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cheeriecherrymain · 9 months

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papa!Viktor blurb, anyone?

A/N: slowly, slowly, recovering from the creative drought ive been in

it's nowhere near a waterfall again, more like a frustrating dribble, BUT. It's something. But anyways, here is a Papa Viktor Thought Blurb (listen, my sister is almost three months old now, and I am so besotted with her, she's my favourite tiny person, and i am full of Caretaker Feelings)

Content Warning: 18+ MDNI (not explicit, but very very suggestive), afab!Reader, pregnancy, labour and birth (again, not explicit, but still with some depth), papa!Viktor, no beta no editing we simply die

Imagine Viktor, and him believing he'll be alone for his entire life - working so hard to make some kind of legacy for himself, putting everything he has into his creations and his machines. Every calculation, every experiment a labour of love.

This is how the world will remember his name.

At least, he hopes.

But then he meets you.

You're charming, he has to admit. You make friends wherever you go, and you have a weird habit of bringing people out of their shells. There's just...something about you that makes others want to bare their souls to you. Something that draws people in.

Like you have a tangible sort of gravity, and wherever you go, someone ends up in your orbit.

He won't mean much to you, he thinks, after conversing with you a couple times. You're creative, like he is, and you're enjoyable to talk to. But nothing more. Sooner or later, you'll continue on somewhere else, making waves and drawing attention. And in your wake, he will be left to sink. It's what expects.

Except...

You don't leave.

Your chats start out small. Short and sweet, a How are you today? wondered whenever you pass each other in the halls a couple times a month, curious about the goings-on of his life.

He never has anything interesting to tell you about. No adventures or tales to tell, nothing beyond the walls of a cramped and cluttered office.

You must be bored, he thinks.

But then you start seeking him out. Instead of just catching up for a couple minutes whenever you happen to walk past each other, you hunt him down in his office - and god, he wasn't lying when he'd told you it was cramped.

You're amazed he even has the space to think in there, with how tight it is. Yet you still shimmy yourself into the tiny room, careful not to disturb any piles of papers, and find a careful seat on a spot of open floor beside his desk. There's no room for a second chair, and you've always made it clear that you dislike standing when you're having a long conversation.

It's nice to sit down and rest somewhere together, you'd told him one time.

You grow closer after that. From seeing him a couple times a month, to a couple times a week, to literally every day. You don't seem to care that he never has anything 'exciting' to share with you, even going so far as to chastise him for calling himself uninteresting.

Your experiments are cool, you'd insisted, while leafing through one of his old journals. It's incredible to get to see how your mind works, and how creative and inventive you are. You have so many ideas, Viktor, and I really believe that they could help people.

Something changes in him, after that. He'd always been quieter around you, listening to your stories, and dutifully answering your questions: never quite letting you in.

Now he looks forward to seeing you.

His heart skips a beat every time he hears you knocking on his office door, a chipper little pattern reserved only for him. You know that he doesn't always like dealing with students after hours, so you'd come up with a way to let him know that it was you who was greeting him.

Things progress...surprisingly natural.

He's not subtle by any means, even if he thinks he is. The moment he realizes that he has feelings for you, all bets are off. His cheeks dust pink whenever you're around, his palms get sweaty and he fidgets, and the staring.

Looking at you with ill-contained admiration and affection.

You can't not kiss him.

You spend the next couple years having the time of your lives. Moving from classes and overbearing internships, to actively working on experiments. Collaborating with each other, drawing up ideas and debating functionality and form. The two of you get so heated when you're creating things together.

Neither of you are surprised when it devolves. Wide gestures and hasty chalkboard sketches, impassioned explanations and wild eyes - you bite your lip as you let your gaze trail over him, in all his dishevelled beauty. Hair a mess, tie crooked and loose, shirt partially unbuttoned, and sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Many nights are spent like that, cooped up in his little laboratory, surrounded by sketches and blueprints and scribbles and stray notes. His fingertips digging into the soft of your skin as he kisses the breath out of you. The rhythmic clunking of his crooked desk most telling, as he draws forth your little squeaks and sighs of delight.

Absolutely ruining you, filling you, stretching you open. Feeling the way you tremble in his hands, held tight to his slender body as he reaches so deep into you that you'll feel him for days.

Sinking his teeth into the side of your neck when he finds his own release - to stay quiet, he tells you. But you both know it's his way of marking you.

Claiming you.

You're his. You're his person, his love, his partner. Your eyes only ever shine the way they do when you look at him.

Your body, splayed out and spread before him, quivering and gasping and covered in a thin sheen of sweat - his.

Your taste, sweet on his tongue - your mouth, your skin, your arousal that drips out of you whenever he so much as looks at you.

His.

And he knows, without a single atom of doubt, that he's also yours. So entirely entangled with each other, neither of you knowing how you'd managed to exist separately before now.

How had you possibly found beauty in every day, when you'd never heard his voice? Never caught a whiff of his sweet shampoo as he ambled past you? Never felt the warmth of his touch, or the puff of his sighs on your cheek? Never known the tickle of his hair on your bare skin as you slowly woke every morning to find him curled around you, his face smashed into your back and soft snores emanating from him?

No matter, you think. You have him now, and that's what's important.

...until everything changes.

You miss a period.

You tell him about it.

You're both on edge, but he tries to remain optimistic. Cycles can be upset sometimes, he tells you, as if you don't already know. (You're certain he's really just trying to reassure himself.)

But deep down, you know.

You can feel it in the all-encompassing tiredness you wake with every morning. In the random bouts of nausea, and the sudden food aversions. The back aches, and all the sudden new smells you can detect.

You know something is amiss.

And he knows, too, when he finds you one time in the middle of the night. Standing in your shared little kitchen, in the dark, illuminated only by the light of the open refrigerator.

Pulling pickles straight out of the jar, dipping them in mayonnaise, and sinking your teeth into them. Like they were to most delectable thing you'd ever ingested.

You're both terrified, of course.

You're not really surprised that you've managed to fall pregnant - not with the way you two lust after each other practically every night, and sometimes in the morning. Maybe even once or twice in between meetings, when you're both squished together in his compact office.

Neither of you ever thought you'd become parents.

And certainly not right now.

But...you want this, you realize. You want this with him. You want a family with him, you want the evidence of your love - you want a future with him, and you want to see what beautiful little person you'll make together.

Would they have his eyes? Yours? He hopes they have your smile, he tells you, eventually.

It takes you by surprise, his words, what with how quiet he'd been since you'd both figured everything out. You'd been worrying that he wasn't really on board with keeping the baby - with being a father. And you hadn't blamed him, really.

You'd been beyond stressed at the idea of raising a child alone. The thought of him leaving you, leaving behind something so intrinsically tied to him, had been slowly breaking your heart. You hadn't wanted him to stay simply out of obligation - you know you wouldn't be able to cope with the eventual resentment that such an action would breed.

But to know for certain now that he'd only been anxious?

That he wanted this with you, and was excited?

You're so happy that you immediately burst into tears, squeaking and sniffling and snotting uncontrollably while Viktor bites back a laugh and herds you into his embrace. Stroking your back and murmuring the sweetest things to you while you try to catch your breath, leaving gentle kisses all over your face.

Telling you all about what kind of person he hoped your little one would be.

Your smile, most certainly, he said, resolute. You have the most beautiful smile. You light up the room wherever you go. Maybe your sense of humour, too. And certainly your compassion.

Your tears slowly began to lessen, as you let yourself be lulled by the comfort of his arms around you.

Your hair, though, you insist, smushing your face into his shirt. You look so pretty in the mornings, all fluffed up and in disarray. It's the cutest shit I've ever seen.

That garners a laugh from him.

I want them to have your eyes, as well, you admit, albeit somewhat shyly. I've never seen a colour like yours, so intense and complex. Way back when we first met, and you looked at me for the very first time? I almost lost the ability to breathe. It was...it was like I knew, right then. That you were the person I wanted to spend my life with.

He squeezes you a little bit tighter, stooping down to tenderly slot your lips together. Slow, lazy, intimate. Sharing breath and warmth and love and-

He takes you again.

Right there, in the dim quiet of his office, not seeming to care if anyone passing by in the hallway might hear you. Spoiling you absolutely rotten, speaking praises against your skin as he brings you over the edge again and again and again.

Pupils blown wide as he sinks his fingers into you, crooking them perfectly as to reach the spots he knows will drive you mad. The papers strewn around the room don't matter - they don't even cross his mind, as you wriggle and squirm and quiver and cry out for him.

How could they, when all he can focus on is the way you look when your body tenses up, another wave of ecstasy coursing through your veins, culminating in your lovely little noises, and the addicting feeling of your pleasure dripping down his fingers and over his palm, soaking him thoroughly.

He would be happy to have you like this, as frequently as you would let him.

He knows how sensitive you must be by now, not only from his ministrations, but also from the way your body is changing. He's done his fair amount of reading since discovering your pregnancy - he's aware of all the ways you might be feeling.

The hunger, the exhaustion, the aches and pains.

The all-encompassing, single-minded lust you might go through.

He's ready to please you, however you might want - his fingers, his mouth. And whenever you might want. You could wake him up in the middle of the night, for all he cares. You could nudge him from the sleep that he so desperately needs, and he'd ask not a single question besides What do you need, darling? How would you like me?

What he doesn't expect is his own desire.

You're beautiful. You always have been beautiful. Even as things change, he was absolutely certain that you would never stop being beautiful.

It's you, so of course he's going to want you.

But seeing you now, whining and looking at him like he's hung the moon in the sky, specifically for you? Your tummy already growing round with the life that you've made together, visible proof of your love? Desperate whimpers falling past your lips, begging him for more, for him to fill you up again and again and again?

He can't resist you.

Even when he starts to ache, and his arms start shaking, and his throat is raw and dry from breathing hard and calling out for you.

He can't resist you.

You're insatiable.

So is he.

He's a little more careful as the months progress. Manhandling you less, digging his fingers into the soft fat of your hips a little gentler. He's cognizant of how you're most comfortable, watching in awe as you tremble on top of him, grinding down on him and taking his entire length into you like you were made specifically for him.

Nearly every day, you beg for him.

He loves you.

And when the time eventually comes for you to waddle carefully into the labour centre, meeting your midwife along the way, Viktor tries to keep his worrying quiet. Tries to stay by your side as a supportive pillar, regardless of how well or not he might actually be able to hold you up.

Holding your hand, kissing your knuckles. Trading his fingers for a stress ball when you squeeze a little too hard (and then another stress ball, stronger this time, when the first one explodes in your fist after a couple minutes. It shocks both of you, but to his surprise, you start laughing).

He tenderly dabs the sweat off your forehead as the hours go by, keeping your hairs from pasting themselves to your face and neck. Staying nearby as a source of comfort, but not so close that you feel smothered by him - allowing you the space you need to wiggle around as you see fit.

Telling you stories to distract you, listening to your complaints and observations as his words become unable to mask the pain of your contractions. Doing his absolute best to bite back a fond grin as you breathlessly curse him for doing this to you.

I didn't mean it, you tell him, as soon as the words leave your mouth, your eyes wide and tearful with sorrow.

I know, he promises, leaning forward to press his lips to your dewy skin.

You sigh happily.

It's not for another couple hours that your baby finally decides to enter the world.

You're beyond exhausted, and Viktor is starting to get fidgety with his worry. Is it supposed to be taking this long? he wonders internally, keeping his questions to himself so as not to stress you out even more.

The midwives, to their credit, are incredibly skilled. Staying by your side throughout the whole process, carefully monitoring everything they need to in order to make sure you're healthy. That the baby is healthy. He knows that they would say something, if anything was truly wrong.

And when the little one finally arrives, she does so kicking and screaming, making an absolute ruckus in the quiet room. The door is shut tight, keeping the sounds of the busy establishment at bay, and the curtain is drawn for your privacy so no one can see in when the staff come and go.

But when your girl begins shouting her absolute displeasure into the air, Viktor swears he can hear some quiet clapping and cheering from the hallway. He doesn't know if it's for your success, or for something and someone else entirely - but for a moment, he likes to believe that there are some strangers out there who are happy for him.

They don't know his story, and they don't know yours - but they've heard a great cry from somewhere hidden and full of struggle. An all-encompassing wail that confirms the presence of life, shouting to the world I am here, I am alive, and I have absolutely no idea what's going on!

He doesn't know when the tears start trailing down his cheeks.

Perhaps it's when he first lays eyes on your girl, pink and cranky and a little bit squished. Putting up a fuss on your base chest, scrunching her little face up as you speak softly and tenderly to her.

Perhaps it's when one of the midwives hands him a very soft towel, instructing him on how to carefully pat away the blood and fluid still clinging to your child. His eyes growing wide when he oh so gently cleans her off to reveal more of her tiny features.

She's still new, and needs time to decompress (so to speak), but he stares at her with such rapture. Taking in every inch of her, burning her face into his mind so that he might never forget her. Ever.

She's still new, and yet he can already tell that she has your nose. And your lips. Your smile, he realizes, with a palpable joy spreading through his chest.

His tears eventually dry, if only so he's able to better see you and the newest member of your family. Laying kiss after kiss to whatever part of your skin he can reach. Stroking the tips of his fingers over your girl's hair - her tiny arms and shoulders, her chubby cheeks, the bridge of her nose and over her brows.

But some two hours later, when you're finally allowed to rest in your comfortable hospital bed: when your baby is now dry and fed and swaddled up happily in Viktor's arms?

The tears begin again.

Privately, in the dim of the room, while you snooze a couple feet away from him, he weeps. Silently, and without so much as a sniffle. He cannot stop the wetness that rolls down his face, even if he wanted to.

Your girl is finally relaxed, after her grand, dramatic entrance. On the edge of sleep, warm and with a full tummy, making funny little expression while she dozes.

Much to Viktor's delight, she has a head of fuzzy brown hair - dishevelled and sticking in every direction, not matter how the midwives had tried to tame it. It'll settle down in a few days, they'd promised. But he didn't care.

The wild mop on top of her head rivalled the chaos of his own. The same shade of chestnut, though perhaps less coarse in texture. Maybe it will grow to the same thickness eventually, he thinks, a fond smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he imagines how much he's going to have to help her with it as she grows.

Brushing the inevitable tangles out with a soft brush. Pulling the strands back into braids so she can run around and play easier - or maybe little buns on the top of her head, he realizes, the image conjuring up in his mind.

All at once, pictures pop through his head, so vivid and bright that he can almost see them appearing in front of him.

Watching your daughter grow. Sleepless nights of taking care of her, catering to her every whim. Making sure she's fed, and comfortable - entertaining her with silly little toys that make silly little noises, bright colours painted across them. Reading her books with bright, enticing visuals for her to stare at, despite the fact that she doesn't know what words are.

Making trinkets for her as she gets a little older. Things that help her learn, but that also keep her excited and enticed, encouraging her exploration of the world around her. Teaching her to walk, by helping her strengthen her little legs. Sitting on a footstool, a wide smile on his face, as you hold her by her arms and support her as she figures out how to use her legs while upright. Leading her right over into his waiting arms.

Until she's able to balance on her own, after a number of weeks of practising together. Pushing herself up into a wobbly stance, doing her absolute best to try and balance. Maybe she stumbles a couple of times, but she's persistent -stubborn, like he is- and continuously rises back up until she's able to make it over to him on her own. Giggling and wiggling when he scoops her up and praises her and showers he in affection.

Teaching her about anything and everything, the bigger she gets. Answering every question she has, no matter how confusing or senseless - encouraging with his own suggestions, and prompting her to discover some answers for herself. Putting together little experiments for her, so they can learn together and so he can watch her eyes widen with the joy of new information.

Fixing her toys for her whenever they break, as she brings them to him with misty eyes and a wobbly bottom lip. Papa, it fell apart, she says sadly. To which he pulls her onto his lap, regardless of what work he was doing, and helps her repair the damage. Letting her watch and observe when she's still too small to hold a screwdriver, and carefully explaining things to her when her motor skills start to develop more.

And then helping her figure out in what way her toy broke, when she's a little bigger. Asking specific questions, so she can work to connect all the dots herself. Helping her gather the materials that she needs in order to fix things herself, and praising her to the high heavens when she presents the finished product to him.

The little thing is slightly lopsided, but he fully believes that it adds to its charm - tells her as such, when she sighs about it not being the same as before.

It's a little uneven, just like me, he says, with a laugh.

And, much to his complete shock, she wraps her little arms around him, and gives him her strongest possible squeeze.

It adds to your charm, she parrots back to him with complete honesty. I like you, Papa.

And once again, for the umpteenth time throughout his daughter's life, his eyes well with tears and he presses a kiss to the top of her head.

She could go anywhere she wanted, once she grew up. Learn anything, do anything, be anything. Perhaps she'd enjoy the sciences, like he does - machinery, and building, and designing, and inventing. Maybe she'd get into art, and spend her days painting or sketching, or writing, or making music - inspiring other people with the things she makes.

It doesn't matter, though. Because no matter what she ends up enjoying, or where she goes in her life, Viktor will support her with his entirety. Even when she grows all the way up, and inevitably leaves home to begin her own life, whatever that may be.

He knows he's going to cry then, too. So many years together, and yet it will still never be enough.

But for now, he sighs, staring adoringly down at the tiny infant in his arms. For now, they have time. He vows silently to never waste a single moment with her, and never pass up the opportunity to spend time with her. No matter how busy or frustrated or tired he gets, he won't let her grow up feeling unwanted or unloved or unimportant.

He'll give her a better life than he grew up with, and that is both a promise and a threat.

After all, he would do anything, for her.

His greatest creation.

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #viktor headcanons #viktor blurb #viktor reader insert #arcane reader insert #i am slowly rising from the dead whoops

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nikethestatue · 6 months

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When people say that Elain is 'infantalised' by her sisters and that she takes no responsibilities or accountability or that she just latches on to whoever would provide for her...

Really?

Because as far as I remember, Elain was the one who actually went out and decided to build a life for herself with Graysen. She was the one who stepped out socially, integrated herself and Nesta back into their community, and the one who made strides for independence. Not only that, SHE was the one who sought out the most powerful human lord, who had the most soldiers and the most ash trees, and got engaged to his son. She took concrete steps to guarantee that she and Nesta would be protected should and when the war came.

This is not about whataboutalism, but once Feyre ended up in Prythian, what did she do exactly? She stayed in Tamlin's manor and enjoyed her life. She was provided for everything and she was content. Nesta ended up with a whole lot of Tamlin's wealth, and she and their father and Elain all benefitted from it and no one was terribly keen to not take advantage of it. Was Feyre not cared for and coddled and helped by Rhys when she was horribly depressed and when he took her to Night Court? Did everyone not try to help Nesta overcome her depression? Everyone was coddled and cared for, but somehow, it's Elain who is 'infantalised'. Elain didn't have an adoring male to care for her--she didn't have a Rhys, she didn't have a Cassian. She had a broken engagement, and an unwanted mate, and two sisters who were dealing with their own crap and issues, and while they tried their best, Elain was sitting in HoW for 6 weeks after being Made, without anyone helping all that much with anything.

Yes, Elain lives with Feyre right now. So what? Most women did live with their parents or married siblings until they themselves were married. When exactly did women start living independently? The 1960s? Elain does exactly what most women did in her society--she lives with her married sister. Yes, she has room and board, but she also works in the household and the community. If a 500 year old Cassian and presumably Azriel don't have their own places and live in HoW, then why are they not considered 'infantilised' when they depend on Rhys for their wages, their housing, and protection? They work, they get stuff in return. Elain works, she gets stuff in return.

Just because Elain has a generally more positive outlook on life, and she isn't angry like Nesta or self-sacrificing and self-flagellating like Feyre, doesn't mean she is stupid or naïve. She chooses to be calm and friendly and proper. She chose to give Feyre the paints, understanding that a little bit of joy in the face of darkness is sometimes all that is needed. She chose to extend her hand to Nesta again and again and again--she chose to give her gifts for Solstice and her birthday. Stupid, infantile Elain was the one who chose to step up and rammed Truth Teller through the King's throat. Stupid, infantile Elain fought off the naga with her bare feet, and demanded that Azriel save Briar--someone she didn't know and someone who could've caused everyone's deaths. Stupid, infantile Elain was the one who pushed to save the humans and went to beg Lord Nolan for their sanctuary.

If Elain was a silly dog who only cared about comfort and didn't think about anything, she would've already accepted the bond and went off to live with her mate an easy and comfortable life, because Feyre and Rhys would've provided for them.

Truly, the lack of understanding of Elain's character is astonishing. Elain is a survivor. She is the protector. She is the peace keeper. She is not a stupid, infantile Elain, who is 'babied' by others. She is not really babied by anyone. Slowly, but surely, Elain is carving her own path in this new world and new body that she occupies.

#elain archeron #elain #pro elain archeron

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iloveaustinelvisandmannymore · 10 months

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Hi there. I was wondering if you could write about mafia austin!elvis. Where the reader (female) is young and naive. Her, older brother who is around 10-15 years older than her maybe was employed by Elvis, and always comes home bruised up. Her brother tries to hide the fact that he has a younger sister from Elvis because he doesn't want her to be tainted by any means. One night the reader finds out what her brother's line of work actually entails, she decides to confront Elvis herself. This then leaves Elvis obsessed with the reader and causes him to take drastic measures to have her all to himself. You can decide how this ends based on what you're comfortable writing.

Thank you.

This is right up my ally! I love this!

Deal

Austin!Elvis x reader

Warning: Emotional manipulation, Obsessed Austin!Elvis, Mild smut, Naive reader ( reader's 18, Elvis is 31, Mark is 33), Mention of death, Near death experience, Blackmail, First kiss. ( if my maths is wrong you can correct)

Summary: life was looking up, your brother and you lived in a big house, no longer striving for food but it was beginning to come with a cost.

It all started when your father passed, you were 15 then and your mother walked out long before he died, it was just you and your brother Mark. It was rough the few years he died, you lose your house, and barely eat and Some of your dad's friends would help before they decided they had done enough and kicked you two back into the street

It wasn't until recently that your lives begin to turn around, Mark had gotten a job that paid well, very well, that's where as good as could be or that's what you thought, you remember you were talking to your new friends, the topic was one you didn't quite understand, it was something about boys and "Fun stuff" whatever that meant when your brother comes stumbling in, hunched over against the doorway before noticing the sets of eyes on him and stood straight like that never happened "Ladies." he greeted on his way to the kitchen. That was one of many you noticed, he came home like that more and more, with bruises appearing on his body more it scared you but it reached the peek when he ended up at the hospital, you ran faster than you ever had, the closer you got to his room, two voices come out heated, one was your brother and the other had a southern drawl, reach the room the door was flanged out and a man in a dark purple suit, with jet black hair and sideburns, a pair of expensive shades over his eyes stepped out followed by a man with blue eyes and Shaggy dirty blonde hair, Mister purple looked at you for a second before walking to the exit, Mister Shaggy blonde behind him, for a moment you watched the men leave then rushed into your brother's room, a gasp torn itself from your lips and tears budded in your orbs "Mark!" you cried and hugged him without thinking gaining a sharp "OW!" you immediately backed away with an "I'm sorry!!" Mark simply laughed "It's okay little bee" he smiled at your pouting-worried face.

"Who was that man?" you titled your head as you watched his expression change more than once, trying to find something to say. "Nobody, sis, nobody." he smiles, and shakes your hair, making a whine leave your pouted lips, you didn't accept that, and you won't accept that, telling him you were going to the restroom and you'd be back. You walked up to one of Marks's nurses and asked who the man was "Oh honey that was Elvis Presley, he's a very serious man, and he runs this town." she answers, "Do you know where he lives ma'am?" she again answered your question, you thanked her and decided to say goodbye to your brother, he would be there for a few days. Tomorrow You were able to get a friend to drop you off at his address and after enough annoying the gatekeeper you were allowed into the beautiful mansion, and an appointment with Mr. Presley "You got some nerve little girl." he sat his shades on his desk and leaned back into his office chair, his eyes were a stormy blue as he looked you up and down "What do ya want hmm?" he asked, looking, sounding unimpressed and mildly bored "I want you to leave my brother alone." you spoke, luckily without stuttering, your eyes looked into his with determination, a singular eyebrow rose and a spark enter his eyes as quickly as It came it vanished "I think about it. Come back tomorrow. " he answered after a thick silence, you went to protest but was shut down with a look of the man before you. You were then escorted out of Elvis's home and to your home, by a guy named Jerry who was the same man who picked you up the next day.

You were led to his bedroom, the room was dark-lit, with a large bed of a gold and black theme, and red curtains framing the plush headboard of the bed, the walls were painted black with golden lines. The room looked like a king's private chamber, you sat on the bed and waited for the man in question, the bathroom door opened and Elvis stepped out in a robe of maroon, he didn't look at you at first, he was too busy tying a knot, giving you time to admire him, his tan skin glowed beautifully, his black hair hanged in front of his ice blues as he looked down "I'll make ya a deal." he looked at you, a smug smirk tugging on the corner of his plump lips "Have sex with me and I'll take care of you and your bother. Whatcha ya say darlin'?" his voice lowered, seductive tone taking over "What's sex?" a puzzled expression come to his face from your question "You don't know?" he answered you with his own question to which you just nodded, that smirk from before returned as he gently pushed you onto the massive bed "Why don't I show ya?" he whispered, soon his lips lockied with yours, his tongue dominating yours, exploring your mouth. His fingers ran down your body to your wetting cunt, sliding your underwear to the side and beginning to rub at the entrance got core, mewls, and moans were swallowed by Elvis as two of his fingers pushed inside, pumping them in and out slowly just enough to prepare you for his hardening cock, clothes then flanged out across the bedroom. The bed creaked as his slow thrusts became harder, faster sending you to a state of bliss, you never once played with yourself let only stick something inside, you gasped as he rolled his hips, triggering your climax and forcing a scream of his name out, Elvis grunted as he pulled out, his cum spraying on your sex.

You stayed the night that day, he personally drove you home telling you that he would tell your brother the good news. It was three days later that your brother was finally home, and a knock came on the door "Coming!" you shouted as you walked to the door, opening Elvis stood with some of his men, "Hi darlin'" he smiled softly at you, and a rush of heat came to your cheeks before muttering a "Come in" and moving out the way "Boss?" Mark stood up using his crutches, his busted lip turned into a frown, and the purple-black bruise illiterate around his face "What are you doing here?" he asked Elvis, gesturing you to come to the side, which like the good sister you listen to him "Well I came to tell you the good news." Elvis's smiled, almost mockingly as he walked towards you both "Good news?" Mark asked, his eyebrows frowning "Your darlin' little sister asked me to leave ya alone" Elvis replied, gently pulling you into his chest, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, looking at you like you hold the moon and stars before looking at your brother, a strange glint in his ocean eyes "You never have to work again."

BANG

You screamed in terror as your brother's body dropped to the floor, falling into a splatter of brain and blood, tears streamed down your eyes as you thrashed in Elvis's arms as he dragged you out of your home to his car "Shush little lamb, it's okay." he whispered in your ears as he held your trembling form as his driver drove off.

Little lamb? It was fitting, wasn't it? The little lamb who didn't know she was trapped in the jaws of the wolf in sheep's clothing until it was too late, only able to cry for her last of kin in the wolf's den, his pack snickered and howled with laughter in the shadows. little lamb stuck with the alpha as she wondered would the wolf find another lamb or was he gonna devour her whole.

#elvis imagine #yandere!elvis x reader #elvis 2022 #austin elvis imagine #elvis smut #elvis presley x reader #austin butler smut #elvis x reader #yandere austin butler x reader #austin butler x reader #candy answer

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bloodybreakupscene · 1 year

Text

-> 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓.

neteyam x metkayina! reader

-> neteyam wants to talk to you so bad but he can't (ft. wingman kiri)

-> omg hey it's been a few months but i'm back and i saw the avatar movie like a few weeks ago and now i write for avatar 😋😋

only a day ago did neteyam and his family come seeking hospitality in your clan. you, at first, had no interest in them, you didn't have a problem with it like your brother ao' nung did, but you weren't thrilled with them here, unlike your sister tsireya. you were very neutral on their arrival. however after being assigned to teach them the metkayina ways did you actually have to interact with them.

you were about a half an hour late due to your training and they have already begun breathing practice. based on your own observation, you could tell it wasn't going very well. the smallest one, which you later learned was named 'tuk', was struggling the hardest, so you swam over to her first.

"are you okay?" you asked, as she coughed.

"no! breathing underwater is too hard." she complained, rubbing her eyes.

"well, you're not trying to breathe underwater, you just need to hold your breath." you demonstrated by holding your breath through your stomach and then diving down, the young girl replicated, now being able to hold her breath without coughing up a storm.

"woah, did i do it?" she asked, wiping some of the water from her face.

you nodded and you both swam back to where tsireya was, the little girl swam to her sibling, kiri; you think. you remember her when your mom pointed out her small tail.

while the groups conversed you noticed the tallest one glancing at you, as he did earlier when he arrived. you ignored it and moved on with your day.

you had just finished assisting the others in your village when you turned the corner to see ao' nung, lo' ak, one of ao' nung's friends, and neteyam all on the ground fighting, with kiri on the side laughing at how dumb they were being. which was a very warranted reaction to such stupidity.

looking down, at ao' nung's face he used all his strength to shove lo'ak off his body and stood up and walked towards you.

"these stupid freaks tried attacking me." he swore at them, you rolled your eyes and dragged him by his ear to where he was now standing next your, his friend following him.

"sorry for my brother's behavior" you began gently. "he isn't normally like this."

"it's okay, i'm sure if lo' ak controlled himself it wouldn't have escalated this far."

you nodded your head, "see you later then."

"yeah, i'll, um, see you later." he stuttered a bit.

"y-y-y-yeah i'll see you l-l-l-later!" lo' ak teased him, poking his side before being dragged away, with kiri following.

—

"why don't you just talk to them?"

"because. it's complicated, they're just so. . .i don't know." neteyam said, responding to kiri's question.

she laughed at her brother's pathetic attempt for an excuse. she didn't really see the big deal or why he was so nervous, maybe it was something she would learn later in life. you were very cool; in her opinion, so she really doesn't understand why he was so nervous and found it a bit rude that he was taking extra measures to not talk to you but also be near you at every given moment?

she walked around the village until she found tsireya; feeling lucky she didn't run into your other sibling. she was with tuk searching for pearls to put in their hair.

"hello kiri! do you need something?" she asked, moving some hair away from her face.

"nope, where's (y/n)?"

"they're near that rock over there!" tuk answered, pointing in directions of that rock.

"mm, thanks."

she walks over to you as you're fishing some lone creatures out of the water as a hunting exercise. she watches as you stab the fish and pull them out of the water and put them in a basket.

you acknowledged her and you both started to talk.

"ugh i don't even know how you can live with three other people. i can barely survive with tsireya and ao' nung." you complained, sitting down.

"dude, i don't even know how i do it." she laughed, and you were a bit confused about her sky people words but you laughed as well.

"kiri?" neteyam called to your friend.

"neteyam! we were just talking about you."

"you were?"

"we were?

"duh," she rolled her eyes before getting up, "(y/n) was asking about life back in the forest and your training."

"oh, uh, i can explain, if you, uh, want." neteyam didn't know what was wrong with him, he couldn't speak to you without stuttering like an idiot. kiri had already walked away leaving the two of you alone. this wasn't like the other moments he's had with you, he actually had to talk to you instead of standing idly next you, hoping, praying, you'd make the first move.

"yeah sure, you can sit down if you'd like." you shifted positions, creating some space on the rock for him.

neteyam quickly sat next to you and spoke of the wonders of the forest, the enormous trees that decorated the dirt floor. beautiful cool colored flowers and forest green grass that he and his siblings fell asleep on. he talked about the ikrans he flew and how being in the sky felt so free and relaxing.

"y'know talking about the forest really makes me miss home." he laughed a little.

"i would too if i lived there." you played with the water, making small waves from where you sat. "flying an ikran sounds kinda scary though, maybe it's because i'm so used to being underwater."

"it is at first, but when you finally bond it's the most special experience ever."

"your ikrans seem so loyal, how do you know if one chooses you?"

"they try to kill you."

you laughed, he just looked at you. "wait are you serious?"

it was his turn to laugh, "your turn, what's this place like."

"hm, i don't have to tell you, i can just show you. we must meet tomorrow there's a lot i want you to see." you said, as his tail wagged.

"then we will, after tomorrow's lesson."

you smiled at each other in the dim light, signaling to you both that nightfall was coming. "well i have to get going, i promised my mom i'd be back after i got kiri."

"right, well i'll see you tomorrow." you giggled, your tail slowly swaying.

you awkwardly turned around to leave, and he watched as your figure walked to wherever you needed to be. his tail began to pick up pace as well as his heart and while he tried to calm himself down, you were more happy and giddy than usual, which was an odd thing considering your neutral, unbiased personality. there was slight pep in your step as you walked towards your marui, and if someone was really paying attention to you they would've noticed but thankfully no one was at that moment.

you both went home happy that day, you because you finally made friends with the one sully kid who didn't seem to want anything to do with you and neteyam, who'd finally gotten the chance he needed to become friends (and even more) with you.

#avatar #avatar way of water #avatar x reader #avatar x you #avatar x y/n #neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam x y/n

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blindmagdalena · 7 months

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Hey again! So following up on the s/o with close older brother question, let's say the older brother kinda sorta knows that Homelander is fucked up, and has the "talk" with him (the "if you hurt a thread of hair on my sibling I'll fuck you up" type talk. The older brother doesn't really care that Homelander is this famous powerful being or whatever). Maybe the older brother tries to keep Homelander's s/o away from him. How would that scenario go?

Clearly Homelander's persona as an upstanding hero and dream-perfect boyfriend has lulled this moron into a false sense of security. He thinks he can speak to him with some kind of authority the moment he gets a whiff of something being off.

He's in for a harsh wakeup call.

“It you hurt her I’ll—“

“You’ll what?” Homelander interjects sharply, smiling in the same way a beast bares its teeth. The threat of it echoes in his eyes, wide and unkindly set. “No, really. You’ll what?”

Your brother only hesitates a second, but that’s all Homelander needs to pounce.

“That’s right. Not a fucking thing. I could shove your fist all the way down your throat and high-five you out your ass, and no one in this world would do a goddamn thing about it. You wanna know why?”

He leans in, that predator grin stretching wider. “I’m me, and you’re nobody.”

He relishes the look that puts on the poor saps face. He can’t help but continue to push, to establish that he’s the only one calling the shots here.

“Here’s the deal, bro,” he says, slinging an arm around the man’s shoulder. “Your sister? She fucking worships me. I don’t care how close you were or how much you thought she loved you, she’s mine now. And I will tell you one goddamn thing for certain, buckaroo,” he says, possessiveness making his tone vicious. His gloved hand tightens like a claw on the man's shoulder. “No one tells me what to do with what’s mine," he says through his teeth, leaning uncomfortably close. "Threaten me again and you’ll be eating from a tube and shitting into a bag for the rest of your miserable life.”

He soaks up the look of horror on the man’s face, knowing that by saying something so extreme, something so entirely out of character for the man you know, you’ll never believe it. If your brother tries to tattle, he'll look like the psychopath. Homelander will naturally deny every word of it while being as supportive as any good boyfriend should be.

“Okie-dokie. Good talk, bro!” He says, abruptly chipper, his smile now broad and eerily friendly. He gives him a harsh pat on the back and leaves him to stew on his friendly advice. “Let’s not do it again, okay?” He stops in the doorway, turning to point his index finger at him, thumb raised. “And remember, you’re the real hero.”

He savors the fading sound of the man’s heart pounding in his chest and the lingering bitter stink of his fear as he walks away. The taste of you will be the sweetest chaser to it.

#couldn't help myself i just love writing homelander threatening people #homelander x reader #homelander x you #jealousy #darling anon #ask and you shall receive #my writing

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squeakygeeky · 7 months

Text

I Feel You Linger in the Air Novel vs Series

I guess this is a thing I do now. Anyway, I feel like most people who posted about the novel were understandably focused on the ending, but this will be all over the place, full spoilers, this is for if you're interested in how it was adapted but don't actually want to read the novel. I would say I preferred the series since it took full advantage of being a visual medium and also because of the way it expanded on the story.

So the series only covered the first part of the novel, with Jom being transported back to 1928. The novel is first person from Jom's point of view and we really only get Jom adjusting to life in the past and his relationship to Yai.

Jom figures out he's in the past pretty quickly. There's also a mistaken identity thing so he never has to pretend to have amnesia.

Ueangphueng is still his sister's past life, but she's not Yai's sister, just a random neighbor married to Robert and not in a relationship to Mei. Ming is still in love with Mei but she's going to marry someone else, this is just a random thing not important to the plot. Fongkaew's story is kind of similar to the series and so is Khamsaen's, but there's no plot with Robert having done crimes etc. so she and Ueangphueng are just stuck being married to him and having his kids. James is there and flirty with Jom but there's no gay bar. Jom's piglet belongs to Robert and loses the race due to banana shenanigans, I'm sure you were dying to know.

Yai Palathip is 18 and going to be sent off for school and never gets engaged, instead his non-Ueangphueng sister does (happily it seems). No one finds out about Jom and Yai when Jom starts working for him, so there's not really homophobia they deal with, but also no support. They also barely get time together as lovers before Yai gets ripped into the past.

Jom gets transported to the 18th century (I think?) and meets Moustache Commander Yai. I won't go into much of what happens since it's not relevant to the series, but this Yai has no existing connection to Jom, so basically this part is Jom realizing he needs Yai to fall in love with him, which of course is successful because that explains why 1920s Yai was in love with him from the first moment. This is the Yai that gives Jom the tiger ring. Also there is stuff about personal pronouns used in the past: catnip to me.

Jom gets sent back to the present, but weirdly right before the accident. He doesn't check his phone this time but still goes into the River, he just manages to be in slightly better circumstances and gets rescued (by a foreign doctor, my theory is James reincarnated, although there is nothing to support this). He still has the tiger ring on so he knows it wasn't all a dream. When he returns to work on the renovation, he's given a key to a box in the trunk, which has his phone, the letter he wrote (not a letter from Yai), and the theater tickets Jom and Yai never got to use. Then he's told he needs to meet the son of the lady renovating the house, who is Yai Kanthorn of the present day.

1st special is a cute scene of Yai Palathip interacting with his nieces and nephews many years after Jom's disappearance. He became a judge and the family is prosperous because of Jom's advice about the future.

The 2nd special explains that present day Yai is a decendent of Lek, 1920s Yai's brother, so that's how he ended up also being called Yai. His adoptive mom/aunt is Yai's heir, tasked with giving Jom (as far as she knows just a random person of his full name) a key to the box in the chest. She sees his name in an article about a renovation which is why she insisted on hiring him. Yai sees Jom's picture in the article and remembers his past lives, so he goes to Thailand to find Jom.

The 3rd special is Yai and Jom in the present being boyfriends and getting engaged.

There is absolutely no explanation of why Jom time traveled.

#i feel you linger in the air #thai bl #thai ql

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freshlyrage · 9 months

Text

Running Like Water

Chapter 16

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 4.8k

a/n: OMG babes I'm sorry about the wait. I moved back onto campus and wheww they are working my little english major butt. Heres this little update, dont jump me. Hopefully you can forgive me because we're getting like 3 chapters of New Orleans content so... any way enjoy

His body still limp over yours; you feel a rush of nerves run up your spine. Burying your face into the space between his shoulder and neck. Perfectly fit. “Javi!” You whisper. His own chuckles dying at the slow realization of how fucked they are. He’s silent for a bit as you two breath slowly in sync. Shutting your eyes tightly half hoping this part of the night is a nightmare.

“Fuck…” He groans before flopping on his back next to you. The image is dirty too, still in pants but his half hard length exposed sweaty–and you, bare from the waist down.

The circling thoughts of all the ways this could ruin you runs its course in the silence before you begin to panic. Sitting up in bed quickly, grabbing your pillow to conceal him. Javier sighs as if he doesn't have a care in the world. What are we going to do? What are we going to do? “What are we going to do?” You whisper, bringing your knees to your chest. Your eyes nearly blur as you are still coming down from your orgasm.

He’s silent, panting still. You could hear your mom in the living room scattering things around. Your chest heaves with each noise she makes, Javier brings his palm flat on your knee, thumb stroking its side. “We’ll come up with something, I’ll leave once we know she’s asleep.”

“She’s going to catch on when I have to explain to her in a few days that I’m catching a ride with you to Louisiana.” You whisper yell, that thought already cripled you since your bath. How in the world were you going to do this? You were so high off of being bathed and fucked by Javi that you hadn’t thought of how to execute this mini vacation and now? He stirs in his bliss, the perfectly placed pillow concealing him falls to the floor. You look at his waist, groaning, you reach to grab him, he responds in a stomach pitting hiss. You narrow your eyes at him and tuck him back into his boxers.

Why is he so calm? How is this not the biggest deal to him? He smirks watching your mind race.

“Something funny?” You snap in the quietest tone possible. And he keeps on that sly little side smile, the mustache doesn’t help the sexiness of it, you’d kiss him in his stupid face if you weren’t panicking inside. He shakes his head, making no effort to sit up and level with you. He just watches your worry. “What.”

“You’re so pretty.”

Your eyes widen, the tips of your ears red hot. You bring your brows in a small pull and a frown, feeling so shy under his gaze. Eyes closed for a moment, he sits up and kisses the line of worry between your brows. His hands holding your cheek. “Javi.” You groan.

He ignores you and kisses your temple, “You’ll tell Melissa I parked the car here,” he kisses your cheekbone next. “And walked to the bar, in case I needed someone sober to drive me home.” His hand moves down to your neck and just above the plane of bone exposed in your tank top. And finally gripping your breast, lips on your ear, “The bar is only a 4 minute walk from here, it was the smartest idea for me. I did it once in high school, remember?”

Your mouth parts and his thumb grazes over your sensitive nipple. Your brows screw tighter and surprisingly, “No-no I don’t remember.” The idea of him holding onto a memory just like you fills your chest with something unfamiliar. Nails grazing his shoulders, “You’re so touchy.”

He mumbles a complaint before pressing his lips to the side of your face again, “After homecoming, do you remember?”

October 21st 1979

Lorraine hated the color blue on him anyway.

When Javier profusely apologized to his girl about homecoming dance or lack thereof, she had sighed and turned her head out the car window. She wasn’t able to accept the idea, the thought of her exclusive partner choosing to keep the company of his best friend's sister instead of showing up to a dance they were made to go together.

It was a big deal for Lorraine. She had just lost her virginity to Javi and he had called her his girlfriend to his dad just a week before. Homecoming was meant to be them showing themselves to the world. Javier on the other hand couldn’t care for the approval or acknowledgment of others. If people asked, he’d tell them.

So he apologizes with a hand on her knee. There is no right way to tell her, to explain to her why Javier picked you over her that night. He couldn't tell her that the thought of you being upset makes him sick in some twisted overprotective way. He can't say those things, not to someone who liked him so much. He can't say that to her because he also liked her just as much.

“I forgive you.” She sniffles, her tear stained nose pointed towards the door. Her blue manicure scraping his knuckles. The color matching the tie he had planned to wear, his chest tightened.

He hadn’t regretted the night. Telling you the truth, being there for you after being humiliated. He’s known you since you were young, he had developed that need to be in your corner at all times. No one ever was. But, he should’ve called Lorraine, he should’ve told her. She’s understanding, kind, she would have offered to come over and help the situation because that’s just who she was.

Javier hadn’t called, and shoved deep down in a space too uncomfortable to reach he made the decision not to rather than forgetting. The shameful hope that maybe the fast moving relationship would crash and that fleeting thought made him feel awful. That was the first time he had looked at you, in your pretty dress and felt more scared than he’s ever felt in his entire life.

His voice dying in his throat the second he saw the way you learned to cry. Quietly, wiping your face with the back of your palm, trying to hide any evidence of discomfort.

Lorraine cried differently, head turned away but she lets herself go. She doesn’t apologize like you do, she cries and doesn’t wipe away the evidence.

“You forgive me?” Disbelief and shameful disappointment lacing his voice crack.

It’s silent again but she nods. “You’re not allowed to go to the bar for the rest of the year.”

Javier chuckled, his thumb brushing her knuckle. She faces him now, cheeks still wet. Her blonde hair pulled in a low pony, she was just so classically beautiful. Javier felt silly in her presence, there was no way people thought he was up to her standard. “I’m seventeen.”

She scoffs, “I know you go to the bar on fridays, they let you in. Josie saw your truck there last weekend”

She was right. “How’d she know it was me, it could've been my dad.” He teases, internally wincing knowing this isn’t the time. He had been sort of caught. After being away at the youth academy he had frequented the bars, the small habit urged on when he came home. Despite the owner very well knowing who Javi was and his age, they still let him in. So he’d grab a drink or two and drive home. It was a part of his new routine here, maybe he was escaping something, maybe he hoped his mom would walk through the bar doors. It was no coincidence he only sat in at The Tap, the bar his mother frequented in the late years before she left him.

“I know your dad doesn't drink, I’m not joking. It isn't safe to drive like that.” She brushes her hair out of her face, frowning at him so slightly. Javier nods in agreement.

“Is it that you don't want me to go or you don't want me to drive there?”

He was being a hardass he knows, he must have gotten it from his mom because Chucho would never talk back to his woman. He knows the answer, he knows that the question will rile up Lorraine. And still somewhere far in his chest is the desire to argue so much that he can find a way out of this.

Lorraine’s cheeks flush red like it does when she’s angry, she looks out the window for a moment like she’s wondering if what she’s about to say next is appropriate.

“It isn't healthy. You need to deal with the loss of your mother in better ways.”

Javier’s chest caved in on itself, the tips of his own ears getting hot. His gaze quickly averted from every part of Lorraine's face to see if she was serious, if he had heard her correctly. No one knew the details about Flaca, not even Frankie, not you. All you and your brother know is that she had left when Javier was little, she wasn't around when you met him and he never seemed bothered. It always seemed like a nonissue. “My mother isn't dead.” Javi snaps, impulsively reaching for his car keys. He needed to drop Lorraine off before this conversation goes any further.

“I know-” Her hand is quicker as she grabs the keys before him. “Your father told me she used to go to that bar, he pointed it out when we had dinner last week.”

“Give me the keys, you're going home.”

Lorraine flares her nostrils and moves the key further, “No Javi. Talk to me, I don't know anything about your childhood, about your mom, about what you do when we’re not together. I know you have abandonment issues I understand-”

Javier cuts her off, “Jesus christ.” Something strange thrums in his chest, an urge– an urge to cry. An urge he hasnt felt in years, this is fucked.

“Don't scoff like I’m crazy, it's why you do all this shit! It's why you left me stranded on homecoming, you're trying to avoid this commitment. Avoid us, this. ”

There it is.

“Jesus- I literally told you I had to help Andrea out stop changing the topic–why the fuck would you bring my mother into-”

“No lets talk about it, your weird fucking obsession with that girl. Acting like she’s completely off limits, freaking out because I introduced myself to her. You told me you two were not even close! You said you stopped being friends when you went away last year, go figure.” She laughs dryly. Javier’s blood runs dry, facing forward and shutting his mouth. “Abandoning your life for a year because of what? The academy? Give me a break.” They had bickered but nothing like this, he hadn't seen this side of Lorraine. Using something as personal as his mother to feed into something as stupid as homecoming. “She was rude to me at the game and you let it slide, if you’re in love with that girl just fucking spare me. I have no interest in competing against a girl like that.”

Like that.

He takes a breath before continuing. He needed to be rational.He feared any reaction would reveal some truth in her fear. In love with her, it made the strangest knot in his stomach. He had barely interacted with you in the past year. There was no way. Sure he cares for you, a lot, maybe too much. Maybe you consume more of his thoughts than he’d like to admit. Maybe when the two of you were younger he thought you were the sweetest thing to walk this earth but the 2 year gap felt larger than life then. Maybe he’s just confused seeing you older, mature, prettier and maybe he can't stand seeing you be with anyone else. Maybe he misses being around you right now. Just maybe, maybe when Lorraine brought up his mother he felt a sense of dread, she knows something you don't and why does that feel so wrong?

“It isn't like that, just–just please give me the keys Lorraine.”

Without a word she complies and Javier takes her home without a goodbye.

He drives aimlessly for another hour, around town. He passes where he met you by the bikes all those years ago. He remembers those stupid overalls you wore religiously. He passes your moms boutique, the soft lighting of the shop reflecting on the puddle outside the stoop. And he passes the bar his girlfriend had just banished him from, he's urged to enter it more than ever. Spend a few dead presidents on something to distract him from the unsettling feeling of… he wasn't sure.

And fuck it, he drives straight to your house. He wasn't sure when his brain started registering it as your house and not his best friend Frankie’s house but he makes the left and heads up the small hill where your home sat perched in all its glory. An empty driveway and a soft glow coming from the curtains. He remembers waiting outside your door waiting for you to enter safely on hot summer nights.

He parks, eyes skating at the cash in his cup holder, he could leave his truck here and walk to the bar from here. Just in case of course, in case someone catches his truck. His mouth dries when his eye catches the bracelet that belongs to his girlfriend, the word sounding wrong in his own head. He needs a drink.

Javier’s boots crunch on the–no, your driveway was paved, your mother thought dirt driveways were a messy disgrace. He had been so used to having to lay his shoes on the porch in order to be allowed into his own home.

He knocks, it’ll probably be Frankie answering the door if he isn't somewhere bothering his girlfriend. But after only a few seconds he hears you giggling behind the door and Javier finds himself forming a smile before you even reach the knob. The door swings open and-

“Jesus christ what's on your face?” He blurts a bit too loud, your eyes widen and somehow through the mess on your face you turn beat red. Your hand is flying to cover your face.

On your face are red spots at the apple of your cheeks, brows glued down with a thin pencil line mimicking an eyebrow, lips red lined dark and those fake eyelashes Diana Ross wears.

The back of your palm is covered in lines of makeup, browns, blues and yellows. And to top it all off you're in a large shirt and slippers. “Javi–what are you doing here? Oh my god” You shriek, looking over your shoulder still hiding your face.

Javier can't help but feel a warmth spread through his chest at the sight while something else in him scolds himself for reacting so rudely. “Sorry I was wondering if I could leave my car here for a bit–what-you don't have to keep covering your face I already saw it.” Javier steps up onto the highest ledge and peers over your shoulder, your new friend Liandra coming up behind.

“Javi! What a nice surprise, I was practicing my stage makeup for Cabaret on Drea, come in!” She urges, and Andrea swiftly drops her hand shooting a glance at her friend with makeup brushes in her hand. Feeling out of place and rather creepy imposing on your sleepover he shakes his head gives you a glance you can only read as, let's talk alone.

You catch on dismissing yourself for a moment and closing the front door behind you, the light cutting away into the darkness of the night surrounding the two of you. It was a bit chilly for you to be out here, he promised himself he won't keep you long. The two of you haven't spoken since he kept you company last weekend while you detailed your tiny anxieties and insecurities, how you held so much in that tiny body of yours is beyond him. He felt that weird stupid primal instinct of protectiveness when thinking of you being so torn down by the jokes of pathetic men. He hasn't spoken to you in school the following week, attempting to keep you far away from Lorraine. That would have just added salt to the open wound, he wanted a do over. Maybe when they were better together he could properly introduce the two, put out whatever fire Lorraine believes to be between the two of them.

But you looked exceptionally beautiful in this light, even with your face painted. And a thought like that isn’t okay. Not when your brother could be in the house or heading home.

Your lips quirk into a small grin, he had been staring this whole time forgetting to speak. “Sorry for this,” You wave a hand over your face, “I was doing Liandra a favor. Didn’t mean for my face to scare you much.”

Javier’s stupid heart skips a beat, “You didn't scare me.”

You shake your head and bite the inside of your lip, who are you, Javi thinks, when did I start to feel like this?

“Sure, just next time when you bump into me bare faced dont scream, it might hurt my feelings.”

Javi finds no humor in your self depreciation, not after last saturday. Haven't you known? You were so pretty it hurt him bone deep. He’d tell you over and over if it was appropriate but instead he dissents. Looking behind him at the hill that leads to town, to the bar, it was getting dark.

“Is your brother home? Mom?”

You cross your arms in suspicion, “My mom is staying late doing inventory at the store and Frankie is staying at Genies, doing… whatever they do.” You grimace for a split second thinking of your brother and his second year of the honeymoon phase with his girlfriend. “You need to leave your car here, why is everything okay?”

A small line of worry folds between your brows and like always it causes his stomach to flip. What's gotten into him?

“Everythings fine, I just planned to get a few drinks at the bar and didn't want to bring my dads truck in the line of sight of all the nosy people in town.”

You get that judgy look in your eye you gave him whenever you’d watch him smoke weed in the basement, “You’re 17, why don't you just go out and drink with your friends.”

“Got an issue with me going to the bar?”

“No.” You did, at the time your stomach had been in knots at the thought of him doing something so adult, he never felt more out of reach than in that moment. “I don't, so what, you're gonna walk up here drunk and drive home. Not happening.”

Bossy, Javier’s eyes fall to the ground trying to hide the spark in his eyes. What the fuck is happening, he’s blushing like a schoolboy at fucking Andrea. “I was hoping If I was too wasted you could just call me a cab.”

“And if I’m not awake?” You stayed awake the whole time, worried about him.

“I’ll throw a rock at your window, last resort. I rarely get drunk anyway, you can assess the situation.”

You're silent for a moment, your own done up eyes falling to your bunny slippers. You frown for a moment, conspiring all of the ways this could go wrong. Before sighing, “Sure. Be safe or whatever.”

Javier watches you step away and enter the house again. His hand rising to his chest to try to subside the rapid beating behind it. Why is this happening to me? Wasn’t I angry 30 minutes ago?

He hears you and your friend let out girlish laughs and for a moment he considers knocking again. Forget the whole thing, just spend time with you instead, it was probably healthier. It would have made him feel better for the moment. But he knew he couldn't do that, how would he explain that to Lorraine.

Yeah after we argued about Andrea, I went directly to her house to make myself feel better, will you still have me Lorraine?

Surely not.

“No wonder I blocked that from my memory, I looked horrendous.”

“You looked cute. Like a flapper from the 20s.” He whispers, since the beginning of the story it seemed your mother had gotten in bed. The two of you stayed quiet anyway, holding onto each other under the covers. Your cheeks crimson at him describing the memory in detail. You hadn't known Lorraine had such a bad taste of you from the start, when you had been introduced to her as his girlfriend just a month later she had been so kind, like she had been on homecoming night.

And to bring up his mother in the petty argument…you wished you knew how to react.

You simply knew close to nothing about his mom, to you he made it seem so insignificant. You wished you had known he left to the bar to feed into his unhealthy habit of hoping maybe she’d walk in, if you had known you would have forced Liandra to do that stage makeup on his face. Keep him away from that cycle of grief.

“Do you remember how you showed up later?” You ask, his retelling brought every detail of that night back to the forefront of your brain. The sweetness of each interaction when he stumbled tipsy to your front door a few hours later ringing in your ears.

Javier shuts his eyes, “I don't actually, I got a bit drunk huh?”

You giggle, “Yeah… you did.” You just couldn't believe you had forgotten about it, it wasn't like you.

Javier drops his head in the crook of your neck in boyish embarrassment, “Jesus christ.”

It was 11pm, you were starting to worry that your mother would come home early and unload questions about the situation. Liandra was long gone and so was your painted face. Just you and a bouncing knee as you tried to occupy yourself with a rerun of Different Strokes season 1. Your hair was in its slightly overgrown phase of the layers Genie cut for you in August, pulled in a high ponytail. Face paint still in small dusty crusts on the front strands of your hair, you'd consider another shower if you weren't waiting for a knock.

“You showed up so late, I was afraid my mom would catch us and tell Frankie.” You tell Javi as you stare at the vanity you used to get ready on every morning before school.

Javi sighed, sounds familiar.

Javier knocked half past 11, you sprung to your feet and opened the door. You almost want to laugh thinking of how Javier looked with no mustache, baby faced and glossy eyed. You stare at the grown men next to you and your heart swells at the thought of knowing him for so long.

I’m drunk, he states the second you open the door. Your brows shooting high, Should I call you a cab? You ask, closing the door behind you. Your eyes switch to his fathers truck and back to him. Javier pulls his lips together in a drunk disagreeing pout.

Would you let me sleep here?

Your heart leaps in your chest, how you wished you could have let him. You were only fifteen then and you protected that small fantasy of being with him, forever, taking care of someone. You wished to just let him in and put him to bed, take care of the boy you had such a crush on.

It's a funny thing, just 6 months later it was him taking care of your drunken body.

“I wanted to let you stay.” You tell Javi now, your gaze caught on his side profile under the lowlights of your room. His jaw tightens and the urge to move closer, to kiss him goes bone deep. “I didn't know about your mom, I should have let you stay.”

Javier shakes his head in disapproval and turns to face you. “You did the right thing, you called me a cab right?” He tries to work through his memories, catalog and figure out what happened after he came drunk. He remembers being at the bar, someone asking if he was the son of Flaca and when he lied the patron went on and on about how messy she would get when she stopped by after her shift at the hospital. Javier remembers feeling protective over a mother who had never cared for him in the first place.

“I offered to drive you.”

I can drive you home. He looked like he sobered up in that moment, the thought of you behind the wheel unsettling beyond anything else.

Absolutely not

You remember scoffing, I dont have my license yet, but I can drive!

Javier had shook his head aggressively, Not happening, it's unsafe.

You clamped your mouth shut before forcing him to stay put on your front door step as you head in to call him a cab. You had joined him on the steps again.

How’s high school treating you, he slurs slightly. He was already quite the big teen, broad and tall, his drunk wasn't the same as Frankie’s. Javier’s drunkenness was a small blush on his cheeks and a toothy grin. The opposite of how he presented in school when he walked around with that unapproachable frown and crinkle in his brow.

Always looking like he was on the brink of either fucking you up or fucking you.

It’s okay, I wish you would talk to me more, you wanted to say. It's weird to hang out with people that actually chose to be my friend.

Javier’s drunken glance loaded with discontent cuts into you but he doesnt egg it on. His eyes gaze back down at the solid ground below them. You watched his gaze soften as he lost himself into his own thoughts. You remember looking at his face and feeling lonelier than ever. What lovely feelings at fifteen.

“You weren't yourself that night, you didn't even argue with me. It felt lonely sitting with you when you weren't yourself.”

Javier, the one that's yours, frowns and nods. “I was drunk but I remember hoping you would have touched me, at the time I think I needed some sort of comfort.”

In whispers you apologize to him now and he wants none of that, shaking his head. He grabs your hand and kisses the jagged bones of the back of your hand. Being a teenager sucked. Freshman year sucked. “The cab came quickly, what happened when you went home?”

Javier stares off for a moment and quickly his thick brows furrow. “Lorraine was in my living room when I came home. We made up and she promised me she’d start over with you.”

Ah, you thought. It made sense, that entire month of watching them slowly get close again until they finally made it official. That month when he ignored you and you watched him trail the halls, blushing behind him wondering if maybe you two just grew apart or if he realized he didn't need to be your friend anymore. Of course until that day in December when Javier found you with your textbooks in hand and a blotchy face. The day Lorraine introduced herself as if none of this happened.

“Right.” You mumble, pulling up the covers closer to your chest. Nostalgia flooding and crushing you right in bed with Javier, your thoughts spasming and jumping to all the things you promised to get over. And you turn your back against him, smushing your cheek into the pillow. Too confused to cry and Javier wastes no time in pressing his lips on the round of your shoulder.

“It’s always been you Andrea, you know that.”

Your chin quivers and through it all you smile. With his face pressed against your shoulder you bring your left hand across your body to rough up his hair. “Whatever softie.” He groans, giving your shoulder a nice bite. “I’ll tell my mom it was a bar thing, but I’ll have to lie about Louisiana.”

“Mmm, what are you going to say?” He’s dozing off, you hear his voice getting rougher and smoother.

You think of your mother for a second. You think of all the times she’s belittled you, made a decision for you, and apologized with a gift. You think of her saying that you have overstayed your welcome here, in the home you were raised. And fuck that, fuck her.

“I’m just going to leave, she doesn't care enough.”

Javi stills in his kisses, “And your brother.”

You roll your eyes, forgetting about that pest.

“We can figure it out in Louisiana.”

#javier peña #javier peña x ofc #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier peña smut #ao3 #fanfic #javier peña narcos #javier pena x reader

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bloody-spider77 · 8 months

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ITSSSSS TIME FOR SOME PROXY HEADCANONS!!!!

Characters include; Ticci Toby, Hoodie, Masky, and Kate the Chaser

Masky

An unknown time after Marble Hornets, an amnesiac Tim Wright woke up in a forest with no recollection of where he came from or who he was. This was the manipulation of the Slenderman. When he awoke, he was with Brian, who had been rendered mostly mute probably due to shock.

The two wandered the forest and though, they had no clue who the other was, they seemed to become friends quickly. They walked 3 hours into the forest and finally seen Slenderman and they followed him without question to a small cabin.

Days bled into one another but he soon became complacent and rather content with the job of killing and bringing the bodies to the Slenderman. Living in the cabin was relaxing enough too.

His relationship with the other proxies was fine due to everyone minding their own business and getting the job done and the slashers didn't bug him due to him being a bit higher up and closer to Slender. So everything was good until....Toby showed up. Masky was neutral with him at first but as Toby became more and more relaxed and familiar with the cabin and forest dwellers, he got so fucking annoying for Tim to deal with.

But as of 2023, Tim Wright (assuming he has the same D.O.B. as his actor) would be 35 years old and though wiser and older, still a douche as he had grown accustomed to being.

Hoodie

Brian Thomas woke up roughly at two in the morning next to a man he'd never seen before...he really wouldn't know if he'd ever seen him before, he couldn't remember anything. He chose not to speak after seeing the Slenderman, who he'd assumed he'd seen before but he still couldn't place it.

He passed out again and woke up a bit later, soon enough he was following the man who introduced himself as Tim and then they followed the Slenderman together.

Days passed and he'd spend quite a bit of time in the forest, trying to relax..he barely spoke, he barely took off his mask but he was used to it. He slowly got used to the slashers and other proxies and tried to be relatively nice to them to make up for his lack of speaking and the fact that Tim was a dick to everyone.

As of 2023, Brian would be 34, older, wiser and still mostly unspeaking.

Kate The Chaser

She'd done it, successfully killed Lauren and proved herself worthy to Slenderman. She was the first proxy in 2012. After losing her humanity, she couldn't really deal with other people so she was given the role of the guard-dog, no longer needing to eat or sleep due to Slenderman's power, she would patrol the forest day and night.

Her relationship with the others is simple, she's almost entirely ignorant to the rest. She doesn't go out on missions, she just kills whoever comes by the cabin who isn't a worker.

Ticci Toby

Tobias Erin Rogers followed Slenderman closely, only 17 at the time. At first he was afraid, like a rabid dog ready to attack but also restless and scared. He wasn't certain how exactly a bunch of killers could function all together by living so closely but time went on and he got more comfortable, he started to act the way he used to with his sister. Him and his sister had always been loud and annoying when alone together, coming up with games to play.

Toby gradually started to get annoying, especially to Masky. His relationship with the others was causal but Tim was...special.

Annoying Masky felt like annoying his Dad and it made him able to joke around with him in ways he couldn't with his real dad. Of course, Masky hated it but due to Slender's rules he couldn't do anything about it.

As of 2023, Toby would be 27 (yeah, I'm ignoring that Kastoaway confirmed his early death and there's a reason for that on a certain post you'll probably come across on here), now 10 whole years older, he still annoys Masky but it's very rarely seen these days. He's more concerned with getting his life together and maybe leaving the main cabin with Clockwork to build a new one together but of course, he still works for Slender and can't live outside of the forest.

That's all, I hope you enjoy!

#creepypasta #masky #hoodie #kate the chaser #ticci toby #toby rogers #tobias rogers #tim Wright #Brian Thomas #🕷️'s headcaons #🕷️'s writing

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mins-fins · 9 months

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GENESIS (P.GW)

SUMMARY . . . even with everything hectic going on in his life, he will always be there for him.

PAIRING . . . park gunwook x male!reader

GENRE . . . fluff, angst

WARNINGS . . . mentions of sleep deprivation, and neglectful parenting

WORD COUNT . . . 1.7k

NOTES . . . this is how i cope with the fact that pretty much no one in my household cares about me or my well-being, or even respects me (the baby who can't speak loves me more than the sentient adults and children do) enough of that depressing stuff though because i love gunwook yay!

"seojun chew your food! stop spitting at haneul!"

"i— yuri! don't throw your food! i have to clean that later, you know!"

if you can't tell, y/n is currently at the end of the line right now. he groans and lets his head fall onto the counter, listening to the back and forth bickering of his three child siblings. it's 6:49 pm, and he is so so tired.

for the past four hours all he's simply been taking care of his brothers and sister, like he always does on the weekdays when he isn't working. he dislikes feeling tired; because there's still so much more to do even if they're already in the evening.

y/n can't remember the last time he earned a proper break, or was actually treated his age. his mom (who he absolutely despises at the moment and will probably despise forever), decided to have kids right when her son began high school, which means that he is now an eighteen year old high school graduate with two four year old boys and a three year old girl on his hands.

and y/n is as stressed as can be. it's not like before his mother was this amazing, flawless parent who did a good job at raising him, she wasn't, he had to learn every single basic life skill on his own because his mom was busy gambling away their money.

when he was ten she swore to him that he'd get better.

but she never really did.

and now she's out throwing all her money away at the casino, whilst he stays over at home making sure her kids are well fed, can sleep properly at night, and don't kill each other as they're trying to do now.

y/n knows it's not his job to do this, these aren't his kids, he can move out any time he pleases and leave his mom to actually have responsibility over her own children for once in her life, but he just doesn't have the heart to leave them.

he's practically raised these kids since the first day they came home from the hospital. he's the one who gave the twins their nicknames, the one who was present when all three of them walked for the first time, spoke their first words, began responding to him and what he'd say.

they're not his kids, he didn't choose to bring them into this world, but at the same time, he won't just leave them. he's been.. searching, trying to find a place whilst also trying to provide for his siblings at the same time, he barely makes minimum wage, he doesn't even know if he could rent a place.

as he stares at his young siblings, now cleaned up and simply watching cartoons while sitting on the couch. he sighs, simply wanting to collapse onto the floor and not get up for a long amount of time and just.. not exist anymore.

sometimes it gets so difficult, having to go to school five days a week, pick up his siblings from daycare then proceed to take care of them until their bedtime, make sure the house is clean, then watch as his mom strolls in at midnight, having wasted her money and usually wasted herself. he'd then work for a full 10 hours on saturday and sunday.

wow, his life is crazy is it not?

and he just turned eighteen like.. yesterday.

it pisses him off, yeah, but at the end of the day, he just deals with the circumstances of his life. he's gotten used to being the responsible one, being the one who takes care of the kids and is constantly sleep deprived.

y/n is about to fall asleep on the kitchen counter, the sound of the tv playing just melting into the air as he feels his eyes grow heavier and heavier by the second. his head is about to fall onto the counter when the doorbell rings, startling him.

y/n rubs his eyes, attempting to blink away the tiredness as he stands up and walks towards the door. he tells his siblings to continue watching tv and ignore it, when he opens the door, he smiles at who he sees.

"gunwook".

gunwook smiles, holding up a plastic bag. y/n tilts his head, raising an eyebrow. "what is in that exactly?" he inquires, and his boyfriend chuckles at him.

"candy" he responds simply. the three kids on the couch immediately perk up at the sound of the word "candy", toothy grins coming to their face.

"candy!?" haneul squeals, practically sprinting his way towards gunwook, he jumps up and down, seemingly energetic before even eating the sugary treats.

"if you want candy, sit down okay?" y/n places his hand on his head, ruffling his hair. haneul stares at his older brother, his boyfriend, then back at the couch where his own siblings are kicking their feet.

haneul shuffles his way back to the couch, and gunwook closes the door. y/n stares at him tiredly, but he smiles at the sight of him. "candy at seven pm? really?"

"what? your siblings deserve something sweet!"

"well, you didn't just witness them trying to kill each other with spaghetti, did you?"

gunwook shoves his partner's shoulder lightly, and y/n laughs. "okay, not too much candy, they have to sleep at night" he just earns a grin from gunwook, who nods.

"i got it y/n, you tell me all the time".

"you buy my siblings sweets all the time".

"because i love them" gunwook opens the bag as he says those words, and haneul gasps in delight. "just one piece, okay? your bedtime is soon".

seojun agrees, his voice muffled because of the treat he's chewing. haneul nods happily, and yuri gives a thumbs up, kicking her feet. gunwook gives the three a huge smile, enamored but their cuteness.

y/n stares at the scene unfolding before him, smiling fondly as he watches. gunwook isn't a kid person, but gunwook adores his siblings, always willing to come over to just see them.

the two have been dating for maybe half a year, but they've been friends for much longer than that. gunwook knows about y/n's situation, how he's stuck taking care of siblings because even though he wants to leave, he doesn't have the heart to leave them because his mom can't provide for them.

gunwook usually always comes over, whenever y/n is especially tired and simply feels like he can't do anything, gunwook will keep his siblings company as he collects himself.

of course, having to take care of your three child siblings whilst just becoming an adult yourself can take a huge mental toll on someone, and y/n isn't really doing well in this situation.

he blinks and sighs, covering his face in his hands as he feels his body about to slump over. he really just wants to fall on the floor and not wake up for a super long time.

when he focuses again, gunwook is now coloring with the three, who (surprisingly) stopped eating their candy and didn't ask for any more. gunwook has always had this power, he's always been able to easily calm down the kids amazingly.

a sort of charm, maybe.

gunwook notices his partners silence and turns to look at him, blinking. "y/n? everything okay?"

y/n hums, focusing once more. "yeah just.. tired".

gunwook stares, a knowing glint in his eye. he then looks back to the three coloring and smiles at them. "you guys continue, okay? i'm just gonna go talk to y/n".

the three nod, quickly going back to their coloring sheets and completely ignoring when gunwook stands up and turns y/n's way.

y/n is confused for a moment, he's about to question what gunwook meant but he quickly wraps an arm around his waist, nudging him lightly in the waist as they begin walking down the hallway.

"when was the last time you got a full eight hours of sleep, babe?" he immediately asks when the two of them are far away enough from the kids, y/n chuckles depressingly, because they both already know the answer to that question.

"do my eye bags not give it away?"

y/n laughs awkwardly, and gunwook simply glares at him.

"y/n" gunwook grabs his hands, and y/n shuts his eyes. "you really need to leave, what? are you gonna do this forever?"

"i'm not i just—" y/n pauses, god he's so tired, he feels like he can barely get his words out at this point. "i can't leave, it feels selfish to leave".

"it's not selfish to leave if your already doing everything, y/n, think about yourself, please?"

gunwook's words are said simply, he doesn't raise his voice, his tone doesn't change, he just tells it to y/n how it is, he tells him his opinion calmly and without issue.

ah, charms.. as usual.

y/n grasps his hands harder, as if he never wants to let go. he processes the words but he can't find a way to respond to them, for some reason. he blinks, staying quiet.

"i'll find you something y/n" gunwook whispers. "and you'll finally be able to live your own life, and take care of yourself, and.. you'll be fine".

y/n laughs silently. "your corny".

"corny? really?"

y/n laughs again.

"y/n, i just want you to be happy, you deserve to be happy, you deserve good things" gunwook says, and y/n somehow keeps the tears from falling from his eyes.

y/n lightly nudges him, and gunwook puts his arm around his waist once again. "you are corny".

"you love my corniness".

"yes, yes i do, how'd you know?"

they laugh, and y/n takes a few more seconds to simply stare fondly at gunwook. of course, his life wasn't ideal, his life wasn't amazing, he had many struggles it'd take a while to deal with.

but he had gunwook, gunwook was there for him, and that was more than enough.

gunwook was there for him.

and he's always will be.

#park gunwook #zerobaseone #zb1 #zb1 gunwook #park gunwook x reader #zb1 imagines #zb1 scenarios #zb1 drabbles #park gunwook imagines #𑁍 ࣪˖ 𓂃 isa's works!

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the-valiant-valkyrie · 11 months

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one very specific thing that i wish i saw more of is cases of charlie being freed from the influence of Them/the throne (either all of the survivors are free from the constant, or they just find some way to free charlie while staying inside of the constant) and charlie doesn't revert back to being the person who she used to be. because- knowing what we know about her- she probably wouldn't. the charlie maxwell killed hasn't risen from the grave just because she's regained what parts of herself she lost.

winona needing to deal with having her sister back, only to feel like she's engaging with a stranger. sure, they know and remember each other... but to charlie, winona's like a time capsule... preserved, just the same as she's always been- only older. but to winona, charlie's barely a flicker of her former self.

she doesn't speak with the same excitement in her tone- or nearly as frequently as she used to. her coy and playful demeanor has been completely replaced with exhaustion. she still smiles, but not in the right way, and never for the right reasons... and she still laughs, but the sound comes out wrong- cynical instead of bubbly.

charlie stares far more than she ever used to... it's difficult to break the habit, after spending so long being practically invisible- an unwanted guest to the mirth of human conversation. and while winona knows its such a childish memory to fall back upon, she can't help but remember the days her little sister was absolutely terrified of the darkness. now night falls, and she doesn't even flinch. she hasn't needed to for a long, long time.

maxwell beating himself over the head for decades- quite possibly longer- forcing himself to suffer for the worst mistake of his life, finding some way to right his wrongs and at the end of it all... he still can never get back the woman he harmed. the woman he killed. and he can only apologize meekly to the ghost left behind, and stay at ground zero after everything he's done. he already knew he would never earn forgiveness, but there was at least a wisp of a chance he could do right by her. that some amount of suffering- his or otherwise- would be enough.

charlie who's a contorted recreation to those who knew her. charlie who's a contorted recreation to herself. she came back wrong. you know how it is.

#dontstarvetogether #dst charlie #you know how it is when you come back wrong #headcanons #or something idk

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fewwawifwiends · 2 years

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and they were roommates!!! part 2

this is part two of what has been my favourite thing to write to date

for those that followed this from part one, thank you for your patience, i hope this doesn't let you down.

for those reading this for the first time, getting to part one first might be a good idea, this is a heavily plot based smut fic (words i thought i'd never say)

warnings: s m u t , (probably) mentions of oueed and alcohol, unprotected sex, another author's note in the end.

oh and in true theo fashion, this has not been proofread, or beta'd

word count: 16,722

“i am going to kill you with my own bare hands.” great start to a family conversation. max heard his sister sigh on the other side of the line.

“whatever did i ever do this time, dear brother?”

“you know damn well what you did, you ruined my summer break!”

“oh get off it, you still have almost three weeks-”

“whose idea was rowan? yours. and a bad one at that.”

“what did she do this time?” max could hear victoria giving up, but if he knew his sister at all, she’d defend the girl to her dying breath. this was a losing battle already.

“she just up and left!”

“wouldn’t you be happy about that? having your place all to your own, the rest of your break-”

“no vic, you don’t understand.”

“oh you had sex and then she left. okay, so what’s the problem with that? don’t you do that with like, every other girl?”

“it’s not like that, it-”

“it’s exactly like that, emilian.” the use of his middle name made him cringe. “a girl left you before you could leave her. big deal. get over it.” and she hung up on him.

the sheer nerve this woman possessed was enough to drive him wild sometimes. he’d kill for his sister, but sometimes he swore he could kill her.

it wasn’t about rowan leaving after he shared his bed with her -which was pretty sacred, but for the moment a bit beside the point. it was about how she left, like a thief in the night, leaving no trace, no way of contacting her again behind. and sure, that sounds exactly like what he might have done a couple times in the past. but he hadn’t spent a week playing house with those girls, he barely even knew their name. so yes, rowan leaving like that was quite rude. and he took it personally.

defeated, he took his morning coffee to the living room and sat on the couch. it was a comfortable couch and he’d forgotten how it felt; it had been rowan’s for a bit more than a week. yet another reminder. max cursed and took out his phone, determined to find her. at least know where she went after ditching him. that would only be fair, right?

he went through his sister’s followers on instagram, a painstaking and headache inducing process, but came up empty; there was no mention of any rowan on all the handles he checked. how could a girl like that not have instagram? unless she didn’t have her name on the handle, but who does that? still, it was somewhat of a lead, so he searched again. and again. and again, he found nothing. it was like the woman was a ghost.

perhaps it was for the best to think of this as a unique, one time experience, remember it fondly and get on with his life. max really tried to ponder on that thought, internalise it, make it happen. remember rowan as a pleasurable memory. even though pleasurable wasn’t doing justice to the feeling of her soft lips around his cock. fuck, he was getting hard just thinking about it. absentmindedly he gave his cock a couple familiar tugs before shaking his head. remembering her wouldn’t work. he needed to forget.

he took a cold shower and went for a run, realising after the fact that the order of those tasks should’ve been in reverse. still, he was home alone. he could sit in his filth for a few minutes before taking yet another shower. and despite that annoyance, his headache of where rowan was was still lingering, without any signs of subsiding.

she probably went home, but where was even that? her accent didn’t give anything away, and all their conversations were in english, so she wasn’t dutch. but she wasn’t british either, she didn’t speak in an accent he recognised. but rowan is an english name.

and how did she get enough money to afford a last minute plane ticket to literally anywhere? oh god, what if she hitchhiked her way out of the country? it was a dangerous idea, as dangerous as it was free and rowan was more than capable of thinking it would work out just fine. if she wanted out so bad, at the very least she could’ve asked for a ride. stubborn woman.

she was a mystery, a ghost and a constant migraine, from the moment she walked into his life. she’d turned everything upside down and now he couldn’t even find her to… why would he need to find her anyway? give her a piece of his mind, give her front row seats to how irresponsibly she’d acted, how worried he was? as cathartic as that sounded, it wasn’t excuse enough. part of him wanted to fuck her again, he wasn’t nearly done doing everything he wanted to do to her. but it wasn’t a good idea to focus on that for the time being.

what was a better idea would be to ask victoria for help, at least rowan’s number or if she knew where she was. maybe he’d even settle with assurance that she was okay. was he really prepared to have his sister mock him for the rest of their lives over that? was that itch in his chest, the need to know worth it? the thought didn’t ponder in his head for long, as his fingers were already finding his sister’s contact in his phone and tapped on the call button.

“can you give me her number?” pleasantries were something he just couldn’t be bothered with at the moment.

“hi yourself. and wait. rowan didn’t give you her number? not even once?”

“slim chance i’d need it twice, wouldn’t it be?”

“fine be an asshole about it. and the answer is no. and before you get ahead of yourself, it’s not because i’m holding a grudge, which i should. it’s because if she didn’t give you her number, she didn’t want you to have it.”

“maybe the thought didn’t occur to her and now she can’t reach me if she wants to.”

“can’t see why she’d want to.” he could see vic just staring at her nails, indifferent, pretending to be oblivious in an attempt to bruise his ego. it would have worked if matters weren’t so pressing, so a tired sigh was the only response he gave. “okay, fine, you know what? if she calls asking for your number, i’ll give it to her. sound good?”

“but what if she doesn’t?”

“then you’ll just have to live with that.”

“vic, come on. i need to hear she’s okay. i don’t know what you think you know, but it’s more complicated than that.”

“is it now?” she chuckled. let the mocking begin.

“just… please.”

“no. getting the two of you together was a mistake, i thought i was doing an old friend a favour and hoped you’d get a kick out of it as well. but i can’t take your whining -which apparently hasn’t stopped even now that she’s gone- and god knows i won’t be able to take rowan’s as well if i give you her number. i’m sorry max, i’m not budging on that one.”

“now who’s being an asshole? and i’ll forgive you for letting her into my house without my consent if you give me her number. consider your sins absolved.”

“are you seriously blackmailing me?”

“pretty much, yeah.”

“and i’m the asshole?!”

“pretty much, yeah.”

at this point max was running out of options and he was almost certain his pacing would leave a mark on the hardwood floor. besides, a little blackmail among siblings never hurt anyone. once again though, vic hung up on him. exasperated, he tossed his phone on the couch, relived to hear it hit against the pillows and not the floor by accident.

he hopped in the shower for the second and probably not final time that day and his mind was racing through so many things at once that not even the cold water could bring to a halt. flashing memories of the last night the spent together blended with laughs shared over meals, rowan flashing him a smile as she cooked, or when he got home and found her on the couch reading a book with sassy curled next to her.

and all that was mixed with questions answered by theories that bore even more questions, mental images of where rowan might have grown up, how she ended up stranded in monaco of all places, who her friends were, how she stayed in touch with vic without max ever hearing her name mentioned once, and that was only the tip of the iceberg. regrettably for him, his sister was the only person that could even begin to answer any of those questions.

“if you’ve called to beg again, i’m hanging up right now.”

seems that it was victoria’s turn to skip the pleasantries and max chuckled as he ran a towel through his hair, trying to get most of the moisture out.

“no dear sister. even though you do love to hear me beg.”

“true. continue.” her gracious highness granted him permission.

“if i can’t talk to rowan about it, i figured i’d ask you.” he started but was quickly cut off.

“please spare me the details.”

“it’s not about that, you idiot. i just want to know more about her.”

“suppose that can’t hurt.”

finally, a win, no matter how small.

“she mentioned we went karting together when we were kids. how did you stay friends without my knowing?”

“social media is a wonderful thing. we grew apart but then i found her on social and we started talking again.”

“how well would you say you know her?”

“well enough to let her into your home, max.” patience was running thin on victoria’s end and it was max’s cue to start with the more important questions.

“how did she end up in monaco with no place to go and no way out?”

“that’s not my story to tell, max. but i assure you there’s a very good reason behind it, and you did more good than you could possibly imagine.”

“so you know she’s fine?”

“jesus, of course i know she’s okay, what kind of person do you take me for?”

“okay, good. that’s good.”

“are we going to continue playing twenty questions?”

“one last question. how are your little devils?”

“growing and a pain in the ass. they miss their uncle.” her voice softened at max’s concern. not that it was a rare occurrence, but given the circumstances, she didn’t think that there would be much room for anything else than what seemed to be his current obsession.

“i’ll be home to see them as soon as i can. i miss them too. i miss you. how are you holding up?”

“by a thread.” she chuckled. “not but really, mom and tom have been my lifesavers, i couldn’t do it all without them.”

“ouch.”

“you know what i mean, max. you can’t watch the kids while i’m having back to back meetings or when i just need a glass of wine.”

“yeah, yeah, i get it. it’s nice to feel useful though.”

“you’re loved, smart and important. but i have to go, lukas is trying to climb my leg like a tree.”

“mildly concerning. off you go, remind your son he’s a boy, not a monkey.”

“love ya.” the words were rushed and max barely had any time to say them back before he heard the sound to indicate that the call was over.

so she was okay, so the important bit was out of the way. and she was on social media, and his sister’s social media at that. perhaps he hadn’t looked hard enough. maybe going through the likes on vic’s posts would do it? a shot in the dark, but again, better than nothing.

cross-referencing handles on the likes with the ones that stood out on victoria’s followers list turned out to be more fruitful than aimlessly scrolling and trying to determine if what he was seeing seemed like rowan. or at least the version of rowan he’d come to know, and he was so consumed by his moderate success and the feeling of getting closer and closer that once again, he didn’t stop to think anything other than his goal, repercussions be damned.

had he taken a minute or two to think this over, there was a chance he could have realised that maybe rowan didn’t want to be found, especially by him and the reasons were hers and hers alone. maybe he could have seen that at the end of the day, there was nothing to really bind them except for a… unique week. like that kid you meet while on vacation, have fun with them and then never see them again, but in a moderately more adult version. and there would be nothing wrong with that. except he didn’t take a minute, there was no way for any of those thoughts to cross his mind, when finding her took up all the space in his brain. maybe it was a bruise to his ego, being left like that before even the morning after, that he needed to correct. maybe it was that raw connection drawing him back to her, pulling him like a magnet to wherever she may be. it could be so many things, and he didn’t care about any of them. the reason why didn’t matter; only the result.

finally having found an account that might have been rowan’s, max tapped on the blue request to follow button and hoped for the best. the account was private and there was no mention of her name nor was a face visible in the small avatar. It was an educated guess at best, and it could go both ways. maybe he’d have spent all that time on the wrong person. worse yet, he’d found her and she wouldn’t grant him access to the profile, deleting his request. it wasn’t a risk he was comfortable with, but it was one he had to take anyway. from where he stood, he saw no other option.

mental exhaustion was creeping in, as was a migraine that he’d somehow been holding back all this time. max locked the phone and with a flick of his wrist threw it to the side, deciding that he’d had enough screen time for the day. he thought of calling a friend, go out for a drink -or five- but ultimately, did nothing. a quiet night in would be best, to enjoy the silence and serenity his home used to offer up until the week before. he’d crack a beer, watch the sunset, annoy his cats; all things he used to do to unwind.

max did just that, and mechanically walked over to the fridge, grabbed a can and went outside, pausing only to pick up jimmy so he could annoy him with a view. and for a while, everything was back to normal, it felt like there was a way back after all. until he started to really relax though and let his mind wander as the sun sank into the ocean, coating it a warm orange and pink. the first stars were barely just twinkling when max noticed the rails on his balcony and his mind rushed to remind him how he would have loved the opportunity to take rowan right there. the light would look amazing on her skin, and now that he knew exactly how she felt, underneath his fingertips and around his cock, it was much harder to snap out of it, so he didn’t; he allowed the fantasy to play out in a hazy daydream as his hand automatically reached under his pants. as that daydream came to a climax, so did max, and the only thing he could make up his mind about was that he probably wouldn’t bother with washing those pants but throw them away entirely.

the aftermath of his orgasm had him in a trance and found himself naked in his bed, certain that he could still smell a bit of her on the pillowcase before drifting off to a dreamless sleep. but even so, he knew that there was no escaping her.

the next morning, morning number two without rowan, max fumbled on his nightstand to find his phone, with sleep still in his eyes and no luck on the first task of the day. as the gears turned in his brain, he realised that not only he’d left his phone in the living room, but he also probably slept through his alarms and without getting up there was no way of telling the time, completely forgetting about the watch he always wore on his right wrist.

heavy movement got him to the living room and as the brightness on his phone made him squint, he made out that among his usual gazillion notifications, there was one that stood out: the account he played sherlock holmes for the day before had approved of his follow request. suddenly wide awake without a single drop of caffeine in his bloodstream, max opened the notification and the person’s profile, eager to see rowan’s face again. except he didn’t. the profile was one of a perfect stranger, so the whole endeavour had proven a complete bust.

defeated and tired he started going about his usual morning routine, topped with a giant homemade iced coffee as a treat. just as he was about to settle down, his phone rang and max’s initial excitement wore off when he saw the caller id. it was just his trainer, calling to remind him that they’d see each other again toward the end of the summer break, wishing him to enjoy the rest of his vacation and making some god awful small talk. to his own surprise, max survived the call without jumping off his balcony, and tried his best to finally relax.

and that was a plan that worked for him for roughly two minutes, until his phone rang again and he answered using the reflexes bradley had worked hard to help him achieve, not bothering to hide his annoyance at the first ‘hello’.

“is that how you greet an old friend?” he heard rowan’s voice from the other end of the call. it would suffice to say he was left speechless, not really knowing how to respond. “heard you were looking for me.” she stated after the silence got a bit too awkward.

“yeah…” he stammered a reply.

“what for?”

“i was worried, you just left like that and i-”

“i’m fine, max.” she’d never called him by his first name. not when they were just talking, anyway.

“you don’t sound fine.”

“well, i am. would that be all?”

why was she so eager to hang up on him? she was the one who called him to begin with. if she wanted nothing to do with him, all she had to do was ignore him, and victoria, who without a doubt was the one that gave her his number.

“i wanted to talk. are you still in monaco?”

“no, i left yesterday.”

“great, i’ll book you a flight. where are you?”

“i don’t see how that’s necessary.”

“or i could come to you, i am on my break after all.”

“oh so nothing better to do, let’s booty call rowan via proxy?”

“you know that that’s not what this is about.”

“do i?” she raised her voice, shocked by his audacity. she only existed for him when he wanted an easy fuck. and that was okay for the first time around, but going to such lengths for a second time was excessive if not weird.

“well, you would if you knew the first thing about me. i wanted to see if you’re okay and talk about how we left things.”

“i’m fine and there’s nothing to talk about. we said it was a one time thing and i got out of your way as soon as i could, as planned. now if i’ve answered all your questions-”

“don’t you dare hang up on me, rowan.” voice was stern, words conveyed an order, not a request nor urgency.

“or what, you’ll lock me in my room?”

“i haven’t forgotten about your breaking and entering and i have a very good lawyer.”

“oh shiver me timbers!” she tried to be sarcastic, she really did. and she might have succeeded, if it wasn’t for the smile max could hear in her words. rowan wasn’t keen on testing whether max was being serious or not; she knew he wasn’t, and now he knew she knew. this entire thing was giving her a headache, one she hadn’t missed from her days staying with him.

“look, i’m really grateful for letting me stay with you. i know it wasn’t ideal for you…” she tried to tiptoe around… everything. especially the last night she was there. “and like i said, i never wanted to be a bother. so as soon as i got the chance, i left you be. doesn’t mean i don’t appreciate all you did for me.” and by god, he’d done so much more than he could ever understand. he probably didn’t even mean to, or even want to, but he’d done so much and while it was all good, unbeknownst to him, what he did or didn’t do carried so many repercussions.

“you could’ve at least said goodbye, stayed over for coffee.”

“i know, i’m sorry.” and she genuinely was. for so many things she couldn’t even begin to talk about.

max believed her. she was sorry. but that’s not what he wanted to talk to her about, an apology barely even made the list.

“are you sure you’re okay?”

“jesus verstappen, yes, i’m fine!” she chuckled, taken aback by his persistent concern.

“and you do know that you’re welcome here whenever you want, right? of course, you know where the spare key is and everything.”

“that’s very kind of you.” that was all she had to say. that was all she could say. there was no way to talk about how her mind was flooded with memories of how she got into his house in the first place, finding the spare key and letting herself in, exploring the house, getting to know max’s cats and making herself at home. only this time, along with a tang of nostalgia, those memories were altered; she could see herself letting herself in again, but this time around max would be there to greet her with a warm hug, jimmy and sassy would instantly tangle themselves between her legs, and maybe she’d fall, but max would catch her. she’d played house for too long. but though she tried, there was no shaking those thoughts away.

“so you still won’t come?” only when he spoke did rowan realise how long the silence was.

“don’t you have better friends to spend your vacation with?”

“of course i do. but i want to spend it with you.” there was a a deliberate pause between his sentences. it was a sweet sentiment. such a shame rowan didn’t buy it. all she heard was that he wanted easy access to a good fuck for the rest of the month.

“i thought you couldn’t get rid of me fast enough.” she tried to remain civil.

“oh just get your ass over here. even for just two hours. one coffee. or drink. or dinner. anything.”

“verstappen, are you asking me out?”

“you wish.” he scoffed, a little too quick to dismiss her. “can i be completely honest?”

“no. lie to me.”

“i don’t want you to come, i don’t ever want to talk to you again, i’m not even in the tiniest bit worried about how the fuck you got out of monaco. and of course i haven’t spent the past two days trying not to think about you.” those would have been the hardest lies max would have ever told, save for the smile lacing his words. “so no, i don’t want to see you. i dread the thought of having this conversation in person.”

rowan wasn’t quite sure how to respond. it was obvious he didn’t mean any of that. so why did a part of her wish he did? why would she think it would be easier if it were true? there was resentment in her heart, for fluttering even just a little when she heard him speak.

“okay, i’m hanging up now, good talking to you verstappen.”

“what did i tell you about hanging up on me?” there he was again, using his serious voice, leaving rowan just holding the phone, motionless and staring at the wall. how did he manage to have such a hold on her? wasn’t she better than that already? apparently not. or at least not as much as she’d like to think. “still there, aren’t you?” she could hear his smirk and it was infuriating.

“yes.” she replied through gritted teeth.

“good. if you’re not coming to me, let me come to you. where are you?”

“home.”

“and where would that be, princess?” god, she could kill him for that condescending tone in a heartbeat.

“you are not coming here.”

“try me. text me the address.” and he hung up on her. fuck max verstappen.

but in a twisted turn of her brain wirings, rowan did text him the address, curious to see if he’d keep his word; conflicted on whether she wanted him to keep it or not.

the next few of hours had been a blur for max, from packing a small suitcase -just in case- to making arrangements for his jet to be wheels up asap, everything had felt a little like a fever dream, not quite there but still hanging tight on reality.

rowan on the other hand was enjoying a glass of chilled white wine at the comfort of her home, devouring a random -and probably not so good- book she picked at the airport. she couldn’t care less about the plot. getting even tipsy while also actively trying not to think about max was an achievable goal for the evening. it’s not like he’d be knocking on her front door, why would he do that? it was an exchange, he have her his couch and she gave him home-cooked meals, she let him have some of her pot and he gave her three orgasms. tit for tat, end of exchange and conversation.

sure, she left in a rush, but she did apologise for that. and that’s the reason she got his number from victoria in the first place. and when vic texted her to let her know that max was looking for her, she put on a brave face and went about it as maturely as she possibly could. she did wonder for a minute or two if it was enough, but dismissed the thought entirely. she did get the apology out of the way and it was sincere. that was all that mattered, and it gave her closure. it felt good, to actually get some of that, closure. it was a new feeling, but damn it was finally right. a chapter closed. said and done. so why did the protagonist in her book look like him when she pictured him?

rowan did try to rationalise it, she really did. he’s the last man you actually saw, it’s only natural he’s the first person to pop in your head when reading about a blonde guy with blue eyes. he was practically the only person she saw for a week, that’s how she’d made any sense out of it, entirely forgetting his friends at the club and having the stranger she’d been dancing with that night completely erased from her memory.

if she had to be honest with herself, her attempt at actively not thinking about max was not going so well. but she didn’t have to be honest with herself, so only a small effort was wasted on silencing that voice in her head and trying to focus back on her book. her concentration did not break, even with the distinct sound of the intercom in her apartment buzzing.

mechanically, she walked over to the device on the wall next to her door and pushed on the small button, eyes still glued on the page she was on. it was probably the ubereats she forgot she ordered. except it wasn’t, and as she stood by the open door, leaning on the frame with the book in her hands, she looked up to greet the delivery guy. instead of a cholesterol induced heart attack in a bag however, what stood before her was max, in the flesh.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” she managed to say after staring at him for a couple of seconds at a complete loss.

“you did text me your address.”

“and here you are.”

“obviously.”

“why.” not a question, a statement.

“jesus christ, i told you! i wanted to see you, talk to you. in person.”

rowan let him in and took her seat on the stool of the kitchen island, leaving the book and taking a hold and a brave swing of her wine. max was following suit, albeit a little confused at the girl’s reaction. for him it was so straightforward and obvious that he’d be there, like they’d made plans for coffee.

“okay, talk.”

“how did you leave?”

“booked a flight.”

“thought you were broke.”

“someone in my family finally came through.”

“why didn’t you say goodbye?”

“is this a conversation or twenty questions?”

“it is whatever you want it to be. so, why didn’t you say goodbye?”

“i want this to be over.”

max’s face fell. rowan was serious; her tone had not changed from the moment he stepped through the door, emotionless. maybe she meant the conversation. maybe she meant whatever they had. either way, max was not prepared for such an answer. against all evidence, he was sure that rowan wouldn’t be that person, she wouldn’t be the one to be so harsh and borderline rude. but here they were, staring at each other without saying a word.

“if you didn’t want me here why did you tell me where you were? hell, why did you call?”

both perfectly valid questions that the girl did not have the answer to. impulsive decisions she thought herself wiser than to make. there was no plan to backfire, but that was exactly what it felt like. max put her on the spot and she couldn’t do anything but keep staring back at him.

the man could go on a rant on how fucked up this was, but it would be pointless. it was evident that he was not wanted there and he started questioning why he went through all that trouble. with a sigh, he gave up after a few moments of trying to find a reason to stay, to excuse this whole charade and convince himself that he was welcome.

“nevermind, forget i was ever here. or that any of this happened. whatever. have a good one.” he muttered while looking down and turning on his heels to leave.

in another impulsive decision she was sure to regret, it was rowan’s turn to grab him by the wrist and prevent him from leaving.

“i’m sorry. i’m going through some stuff.” she had no intention of opening up that can of worms, especially not to max verstappen. he had better things to do than waste his time on her issues and she should be better than to drag him in them. perhaps it might have been for the best to let things end like that, plain badly, two people with enough resentment for each other to help them move on faster than the speed of light. but she couldn’t bring herself to do that. she was not this person and he deserved better.

“hope it gets better for you soon.” he freed himself from her grip and continued to make his way to the door, not bothering to look at her. his patience was running thin and from nothing, this had become something and that something was no laughing matter. his temper was getting the best of him, casting a shadow over rowan’s poor attempt at an excuse.

with a loud thud the door closed behind him and max was out of the door and her life, exactly like she walked out of his.

a couple days went by with radio silence. max was almost content with the idea that his life would continue to be exactly as he expected it before it got turned upside down and inside out by a virtual stranger. in this endeavour, in the midst of his summer break when he didn’t have intense training and strategy sessions to drain all his energy, or the adrenaline of a grand prix weekend, but instead he had all the free time in the world, he took up a new hobby to fill his time. sat in his balcony, overseeing the sea as the sun painted everything in pink and orange hues, he had a thick and well recommended fantasy book in one hand and a tall glass of iced tea in the other to combat the heat.

all seemed well for him, a good 80 pages into the story that had him immersed enough to almost not notice the unexpected buzz of his phone. the screen lit up with a notification, a text from rowan and all his peace and quiet fell apart in nanoseconds.

puzzled and curious, he opened it only to find himself even more puzzled and curious. it was a selfie, and she was in an uncharacteristically seductive pose; it was a mirror selfie, in what max could only presume was her bedroom, and there would be nothing weird about that. in the background he could see some minimalistic decorations on the wall and a plant that was close to dying hanging from the ceiling.

so, nothing out of the ordinary, save of course for the black satin nightdress that hung just below her hips, with thin lace straps and lining on the bust to bring just enough attention to her neck, shoulders and chest without revealing too much. and again, that may have been okay, but it wasn’t just that. she was staring at her reflection on the phone with an intense gaze and she had a nail in between her teeth, lips parted just enough. it wasn’t her bare legs, the thought of the satin fabric in between their bodies or even the tasteful hints at her body that made his cock twitch; it was her face and her eyes. it was those lips that he now knew damn well what they felt like.

he thought of replying with words -the debate of whether he would reply or not never even took place in his head-, but it felt strangely inadequate. he needed to pay back with the same coin, it was a matter of principle. in autopilot, his body dragged him to his own bedroom, where he took a similar photo. there was a small debate however, on whether it would be a serious one, him trying to do his thing, or if he’d full on imitate rowan’s pose. he thought of the latter to be the safest option, so there he was, in front of the very same mirror he was intent of having her see their reflection of their bodies colliding, fucking hard and fast, standing with only his grey athletic shorts, one finger hanging from his mouth, eyes fixed on the image on his screen. and send.

‘you’re not not malena.’ came her reply as fast as her fingers could type.

‘how perceptive of you’

‘this was not intended for you’

‘oh yeah? and who’s it for?’ obviously it was not for him. it would be stupid of him to think that after everything, she’d reach out again. perhaps it was even more stupid of him to engage. but he couldn’t resist. and the thought that she’d be sending those kind of photos to anyone else made his blood boil. he didn’t have any right to feel that way but that changed nothing. another stupid thing of him.

‘none of your business’

and she could’ve left it there. she sent the message and there were no more dots on the screen on either end. max was still staring at his phone though, and even though he didn’t know it, so was rowan. she fucked up. so damn much, it was almost incomprehensible. she’d left max with no explanation once before, he didn’t deserve for this to happen again.

‘it was for my best friend. her contact is usually the only one staring from m on my phone’ it was the truth. but would it be enough? would he leave it be? how much of an even bigger mess could she create?

‘and you send those kind of pics to all your best friends?’ a fair question, which demanded more explanation. rowan didn’t know whether to bite on her nails even harder to ease the anxiety or feel entirely exasperated. max was not just any man who would be satisfied with breadcrumbs. she knew better than that, appreciated and respected that. but at that point, it was not working to her advantage.

‘she needed some inspiration, spice things up with her boyfriend’ she yielded and told the truth again, no evasiveness.

‘you’re a good friend’ rowan chuckled bitterly at his response.

‘i try my best’

‘am i your friend?’ he couldn’t resist. apparently his self control had gone out the window for anything that concerned rowan and this was a new and wild feeling in his chest, like a fire that he didn’t have the means to put out, and it never really went away; it just felt a little bit more at home sometimes.

‘no. we’re not friends, max.

and i think it would be better if you lost my number.’

‘we both know i’m not going to do that’

‘and what do you intend to do?’

‘come over again and remind you why that would be a bad idea.’ which was a colossally bad idea in its own accord. the only justification max could give to why it sounded like a sound solution to the problem building inside of him was how hard she made him. he was thinking with his dick and there wasn’t much he could do to help it.

‘you’re talking big, verstappen’

‘don’t make me show you big’

‘go ahead, see if i’m phased’

max was not the person to send dick pics. he’d never done it and he could never see himself do something like that. that said, just a a close up of his crotch, the outline of his hardness clearly visible with his thumb tucked underneath and pushing the hem of his pants down ever so slightly was not a dick pic. one might even consider it tasteful.

rowan’s eyes were glued to the screen, unable to look away. he had some nerve, pushing boundaries like that. she did bring this on herself, although the blame game was not something she could focus on when her mouth was hanging agape and borderline salivating. so yeah, she was phased, and that much was evident from the radio silence that lasted a minute or two, which rowan spent looking at the photo.

‘not phased, huh?’

cocky son of a bitch.

‘so what you mean to tell me is that this didn’t remind you how it felt inside you

how it felt when i was fucking you

while you were touching yourself

cumming all over me’

rowan fell back on the bed, trying to find some soothing and cooling comfort in her white sheets with little success. even if her eyes weren’t running over the screen again and again, the words were etched in her mind, along with the memories they brought up to the surface. she remembered damn well how it felt, have him keep her eyes on them as he was pounding into her and her own hand was shamelessly rubbing her wet folds.

as if in a trance, the memory started blending with the present as her hand started reaching downwards, ready to recreate at least some of the sensations. before she could get below her belly, a ding from her phone brought her back to reality and she physically shook her head to try and get rid of the urges that had overcome her, thankful for the distraction. until she opened the notification.

‘still want me to lose your number, baby?’ fuck, the hold he had on her was out of this world. did he know what that word did to her? but this was not a good time to give in. so she decided to give up.

‘you’re a big boy, verstappen

do whatever you want’

‘what i want

requires consent’ he was not letting go, making this so much harder for rowan.

‘why can’t you let go?’

‘because you won’t let me’ he thought of whether he should elaborate on that or not. maybe it would feel better, that raging feeling, if he did.

‘because you just walked into my life

gave me an amazing week

and just fucking left, rowan.

without a single explanation or a god damn goodbye

and as much as i hate this, you have me hooked.’

‘because i left and bruised your precious ego?

you’re such a man.’ this was actually doing her so much good, it was slowly letting her get out of his hold, tearing down all the pedestals her little mind was too busy putting him on.

‘because you made me feel something and then you left.’

‘yeah, made you feel how good it is to have your cock sucked.’

‘phenomenal’ he had to admit. ‘but beside the point

the point is that i thought we made a good team

label that however you want.’

it was surreal, how they were having that conversation over texts. max had never had a serious discussion over text, he’d barely had one over the phone. the timing was as bad as any other moment. he may have let rowan push him out twice, but he wouldn’t let her get away from it this time; not without telling how he saw things.

rowan on the other hand was speechless yet again. the nerve, the audacity, the way he just went out and bared himself- it almost made her jealous.

‘you don’t want me on your team, verstappen’

‘it’s fine, i can fuck anything that’s bothering you out of your system ‘

‘is this all about sex to you?’

‘with you, it’s an added bonus

so is that a yes?’

he’d made up his mind. she didn’t want him involved in her drama and that was more than fine with him; there was not a single cell in his body that wanted to be involved anyway. what he did want was to be close to her, and to his own surprise, he’d been honest: it was not all about sex, but it was a great bonus. what it was mainly about was to get that feeling back, when they could be in the same room without talking and still feeling comfortable, when their endless banter was equally infuriating and entertaining, when he was with someone he didn’t have to explain himself to because they just get him. when his house felt like home, even for just a few days.

rowan had never felt more confused about such a straightforward statement. actually, confusion wasn’t the primary emotion; first, she was conflicted. whatever max could mean exactly, it wouldn’t matter one bit if it was the worst idea in any plane of existence. she tried to imagine how having anyone new in her life at the moment would play out and it all ended in blood, sweat and tears. she was not in any place to bring someone else into her shit, it would be selfish and irresponsible of her. but what if max didn’t have to be involved? not directly, anyway. suddenly, it felt like his proposal made sense.

‘even if i were to say yes

which im not

what would i be saying yes to?’

‘you clearly need a distraction

so do i

i don’t know what’s going on with you

you have no idea what’s going on with me

we just enjoy each other’s company whenever we feel like it.’

‘and that involves sex.’

‘would you get your mind out of the fucking gutter?’

‘maybe you can fuck that out of me as well ’

‘can’t believe i’m saying this

rowan please focus.

are we a team?’

she didn’t reply straight away. she wanted to get this over with, rip the bandaid. tell him that this would never work, that it was inevitable things would get complicated, one way or the other. but she couldn’t bring herself to say, or even type the words. so she waited until it would feel easier to do.

hours passed and day gave in to night, and rowan had still not touched her phone, entirely out of fear that she’d say the wrong thing, whatever that was. she got ready for bed early for her standards, but the heat along with the emotional toll she bore was getting too much. once her head hit the pillow, her mind started drifting and scrambled thoughts came down to one: max. she decided that visualising their texts like a face to face conversation would help her make up her mind, see how that would never work and finally put things to rest with a simple no. one word, two letters.

at first, she imagined him alone in his room, in his bed, like she’d been, and as the conversation progressed, her mind inserted more details. she could see first hand every eye roll, every exasperated sigh, every grimace at her replies, every single time he held his breath as she typed. before long, her physical presence was inserted to the scene, and it was as if max couldn’t see her at first, still hooked on his phone. he was typing away furiously, and rowan wandered at which part. he was typing a lot… and then it was as if she could hear his thoughts that got transcribed without much alteration.

“how it felt when i was fucking you, while you were touching yourself, cumming all over me”

rowan heard herself audibly sigh as she heard those words fall from his lips. it was one thing to read them, and entirely different to hear him say them, even in her mind. that was what seemed to get max to realise that rowan was sitting next to him on the edge of the bed, one knee bent on the mattress, body turned to face him. and that seemed to help him notice that she was there, in the actual room with him.

“still want me to lose your number, baby?” a cocky smirk laced his lips as he looked at her with eyes that were way too sure of the answer for rowan’s comfort. in her mind at least, max knew exactly how weak that word made her and she hated him for it. in fact, she hated him enough to attack him in the only way she knew how: by kissing him feverishly, quickly straddling him and breaking contact only to remove her nightgown.

what followed was an exact replica of their last night together, every touch, word, sound replayed in her mind and all she could do was ride along, try to satiate the hunger with her fingers. soon -sooner than usual- it was over and instead of a clearer head, as she expected, she was left with an empty feeling in her core and one word tumbling out of her mouth.

‘yes’ she typed out and tapped on send, turning her phone off right after, ensuring a very sleepless night ahead.

max received the text hours later from his last message to rowan. specifically, it was almost 4 am and he hadn't slept a wink. it's not like he didn't try to sleep, get his mind off things, but it was as futile an attempt as the ones that came before that.

he tried to avoid thinking about what rowan might be doing or thinking to take this long to respond, if she was going to reply at all. and even in his wildest fantasies, he would have never guessed that the girl spent the better part of those hours fantasising about him, edging herself in denial time and time again before finally giving in and texting him back. after all that had happened, rowan thinking about sex, with him especially, wouldn't cross his mind. perhaps because that was exactly what he'd done, and the chances of her doing the same seemed slim to none. either way, her text had found him sleepless and frustrated in more ways than he cared to count. finally, as his screen lit up in the middle of the night, he was able to close his eyes and rest, curious and excited about the days to come.

‘does that mean you're coming back?'

'in your dreams, verstappen'

'in my dreams you're already here'

'good, you can savour the feeling then'

'are you ever going to stop acting like a brat?'

'am not.'

'are too'

'im not playing this game'

'okay, what do you want to play?'

'youre unbelievable and im an adult with responsibilities.

surely your spoiled ass wouldn't know how that feels like'

'youre impossible'

and that was it. the bubbles vanished and suddenly his phone lost all the excitement it ever held, feeling just like another tiny and slim brick in his hand.

max decided to go for a run, and in the midst of sweat and trying to control his breathing, his mind wandered. unsurprisingly, to rowan. what was a surprise however was the fact that his thoughts were not occupied with her in a similar situation, skimpily dressed, skin glistening with sweat and shaky breathing. no, this time all he could do was wonder how he ended up in that situation, entangled so deeply and so fast that he'd defied all defence mechanisms he'd worked so hard on building up all those years.

he'd become a master of keeping everyone at bay, showing them only parts of him that made them feel okay and him safe. his friends were few and unknowingly tested over the years, and that's how he liked it. and then came she, barging into his life and having him express his... ugh.. feelings in what, two weeks? that was a level of vulnerability no one had achieved, not even his sister.

what was so special about rowan? or what had broken in him to have them end up like that? it was so fucked up he couldn’t even tell what they ended up like. like friends? lovers? were they in a relationship? that was the only thing that was surely off the table. sure, they’d spent a week together, but he didn’t know anything about her at the end of the day. and he wasn’t one to risk himself and his career with a relationship. what he did know was that he wanted her in his life and the only logic that kicked in was to ensure that it would be in the most no-strings-attached way possible.

he’d never been this impulsive, always calculated and focused. now he could barely keep his head in taking the route he did every day for his runs and that was a problem in more ways than simply ending up someplace else entirely and winding up a bit lost for half an hour. and that was all on her. even if he didn’t really know who she was or what she was to him, it was her.

he’d given up on trying to convince himself that it wasn’t about rowan, that it was just about a good fuck and having someone else in the house rather than being alone. but he liked being on his own, he’d never questioned it before. and he could throw a pebble and it would land on a girl who could give him a good fuck. well, admittedly, perhaps not as good. he was ways away from getting her out of his system. he hated to think that, but rowan was… special. he lacked a better word, he hated the word ‘special’. but any other adjective would just not be enough; anything else would only scratch the surface and he was itching to scratch and scratch and scratch until he felt satiated. if one thing made sense in his entire uncharacteristic behaviour was that bottom line, it was all for selfish reasons. it made him feel good and if rowan got something out of it -which he’d make sure she did, because funnily enough, he enjoyed that as well- even better. maybe it wasn’t about her, after all. maybe it was about him. and that bit of rationalisation made sense, enough to make his mid grow a little quieter, even for a while.

as he headed home and turned the key into the lock of his apartment, the silence was deafening once more, even more so now that his brain wasn’t blasting at full volume thoughts and images trying to make two and two equal five.

jimmy and sassy were quick to rub on his legs as soon as he took off his shoes, making sure to follow him around as we went to the bathroom to wash his hands and face before gathering up enough strength for a full shower. cats still magically not tripping over his feet, he took a short video and sent it to rowan, as if it were totally normal. ‘they miss you’ his text read.

‘i miss them too ‘

‘are you going to do something about it?’

‘are we still talking about the cats?’ she spent a minute or two thinking over the text before sending it. as much as she loved the furry little bastards and did miss them, they were not exactly what she wanted to talk about.

‘of course we are. kittens love the attention

i think they feel a bit neglected ever since you left

a few seconds passed before his next text, words that begged to be let out.

do you have anything else in mind that might need my attention?’

‘hm… i’d have to think about it’ she tried to buy a bit more time, keep herself from making mistake after mistake.

‘i’ll hop in the shower. when i come back, i expect to look at my phone and see a response’

and true to his word, he put his phone down and jumped in the shower, leaving rowan speechless. she had about ten minutes to decide her course of action. she could just give him a list of all the quirks of jimmy and sassy she’d come to know, point out that that’s what he needed to pay attention to. that would be the sensible thing to do, kill the vibe and get out. fast.

her mind however raced towards other alternatives, swinging between sending him another photo of her, this time on purpose, or just fucking with him to get a reaction. the clock was ticking and she was running out of time. quickly, she typed in: ‘a response’ and tapped on send. now all she had to do was wait -not so patiently- for a text back.

max opened the text and sighed. he should’ve seen that one coming, of course rowan would be annoying about it.

‘when you’re done playing games, i’d like to have a conversation

like adults’

in a not so weird word association game, hair brain hot wired and she went to work, standing in front of the mirror. she was on her knees, legs spread and ass touching her heels, her oversized tshirt riding up on her hips. she tried to tug the shirt downward, in what could be perceived as an attempt to keep her modesty -but in reality, it was outlining her breasts perfectly as the fabric stretched over her shirt. satisfied, she snapped the photo and then tried something even more straightforward, dragging a her index finger over her stomach and upwards, taking her shirt along, leaving her panties exposed, her stomach and just a bit of her cleavage. snapping another photo, she couldn’t decide which one she liked best, so it was only wise to send both.

the first one was followed by a text:

‘adult enough for you?’

and without wasting any more time, she sent the second one.

‘how about now?’

he was going to kill her. or she was going to kill him, whichever came first. all annoyance -and everything else- forgotten, his reply was a simple statement.

‘looks like there is something else that needs my attention’

‘i can manage perfectly fine on my own, thank you’

‘show me’ he got bold and he knew it, but damn that woman knew exactly which buttons to press.

‘looks like you can’t manage on your own’

‘don’t test me.’

‘or?’

‘or i’ll be knocking on your front door again’

‘and i won’t let you in’

‘we both know you will’

she would. as much as she hated it, one way or another she was at his beck and call, wrapped around his finger with no means of escape. rowan though didn’t want an escape. what she wanted was more of that quiet in her mind when he was with her, how everything went away but that moment, how easily it all flowed and how she could be true to herself without feeling judged, because max was just as bad.

if max were knocking on her door, she’d be letting him in without a second thought, or wasting a single precious moment before closing any and all space between them. while her mind being so completely and utterly calm in his presence, her body was on fire, one he could ignite with just one simple text. by god, she hated him for it. he had her focused, only for him. max held too much power and he could never find that out.

what she couldn’t nor wanted to hide was all this back and forth had her frustrated beyond anything she could have ever imagined. as much as she liked bragging earlier, she could not manage on her own, no matter how hard she tried. all she could do was try again and again and again, as she already had. no matter how many times her body convulsed or how sore her fingers were, it wasn’t enough.

‘and even if did, then what?’

‘then i’d be more than happy to show you that i can make you cum better than those pretty little fingers of yours’

‘go ahead then

show me, if you’re so good.’

he didn’t reply. max was very close to complying, keeping true to his word and spending the next three hours getting back to her door. deciding that he’d have enough though, he booked rowan tickets for the next flight to monaco and scheduled an uber to be at her place three hours before the departure. if his math was correct, she was a bit more than twelve hours from being back at his place. his resolve had been tested enough. it was time hers was too.

‘go to sleep baby

i’ll have a surprise waiting for you in the morning’

rowan woke up the exact same way she fell asleep: abruptly and with very little sense of the time. her phone was blowing up, someone kept calling her and interrupting her restless sleep.

“what?” she picked up the phone with sleep still in her voice, angry for the rude wakeup call.

“wake up, your uber is waiting for you downstairs.” she heard max’s voice and then the distinct sound of the call dropping, not giving her any time to ask the questions that were popping up one by one. what uber? where was she going? what time even was it? was he serious?

she got up at lightning speed and looked out her window. it sure looked like an uber was waiting, but she still wasn’t convinced it was for her. curiosity winning the battle against her soft bed, she got hastily dressed and made her way to the car.

“you rowan?” spoke the driver from his rolled down window, finger gliding his sunglasses down his nose to look at her.

“yeah…” pieces were clicking together. max did not bullshit her. which made things even weirder. “can you give me like, 10 minutes? keep the meter running, or whatever ubers have.” and with that she turned around and ran back inside her apartment.

she’d never gotten ready so fast in her life, brushing her teeth while peeing and thinking of what she needed to pack -just in case. in a record time of 7 and a half minutes, she was already on her way back down, small bag with the essentials packed.

thanking the driver for waiting, she got in the backseat of the car, debating on whether it would be too rude to ask him to stop for a coffee to go. after a while that seemed too long, her chance was gone and she was being driven around, abruptly woken up from a restless sleep without a single shot of espresso to make things easier. hell, at that point, she’d go for an instant coffee from the supermarket if that meant her eyes would stop watering and closing, and her jaw would keep its place as the relentless yawning would stop.

she must have dozed off for a part of the drive, as her eyes opened up wide when the car was decelerating, assuming they’d reached their destination, leaving rowan confused. why was she at the airport? she was broke, looking at the taxi meter on the driver’s app, she was about to be even more broke. someone needed to pay that man 45 euros as if she wasn’t strapped in for cash already. still, reluctantly she got her wallet out, hoping and praying that she’d have enough.

“oh no, it’s already paid for.” she heard the man say and a weight was lifted off her chest. it was in that exact moment she realised that she and her 50 euros would need to last more than some of her past relationships if she was going to survive.

either way, she felt an obligation to leave the man a tip for having put up with her, parting reluctantly with a 5 euro bill, a wide and fake smile plastered on her face and a thank you so much leaving through gritted teeth.

thankful to be out of the car and near anywhere she could get herself a coffee, rowan made her way inside, in search of a coffee shop more than anything else. her search was quickly derailed however, from a buzz coming from her phone. another text from max.

‘hope you enjoyed the ride’

‘maybe it would’ve been better if you were driving’

‘maybe

but now you have a plane to catch, get your ass to your gate!!!’

‘i never booked a flight??”

‘i did

sending you over the information now’

and sure enough, within a few seconds time, her phone buzzed with another notification, an email forwarded to her in screenshots with all information necessary for her to board the next flight to monaco, which left in a bit more than an hour. just enough time to go through security and maybe enjoy a coffee at the gate, if she turned her steps to strides that would match a marathon runner. god she needed a smoke. anything to fill up her lungs sounded so damn good. but she quit ‘conventional’ smoking a few months ago -curtesy of her ex- and she wasn’t about to pick it up again now.

instead, she put on her big girl shoes, strapped them up and determined to yell at max to his face for ruining her day, she started going through all the airport motions she hated with a passion. a couple kilometeres of walking through the unending hallways of the airport, rowan found herself in front of her gate which was oh so conveniently house also to a starbucks. without thinking of her bleeding wallet she got herself a venti iced salted caramel macchiato and sipped it as she waited to board.

her mind was surprisingly quiet considering the circumstances, but she could barely register what had happened, much less overthink it as the caffeine was still slowly working its magic in her system. there was not a memorable thing about the airport, but she absentmindedly made a point of noting the blue on the seats, the yellow-ish beige of the curtains, even how many outlets were around here and how strategically and practically they were placed. to her surprise and amusement, it looked like there were enough outlets for a busy day. rowan also really wanted to people watch, but her plans fell short when she realised that in her near vicinity the only people were herself and the nice lady at the gate who was waiting patiently to get the order and board rowan into the plane.

the call finally came and rowan had her ticket checked and escorted into the plane, past where she thought she’d be seated and straight into business class. max hadn’t cheaped out on the expenses, and probably unbeknownst to him, didn’t make anything too extravagant that would leave her in an awkward situation. business class was not first class and it certainly wasn’t his private jet. an uberx or whatever they were called was more than a simple uber, but it still wasn’t a rented limousine or anything like that. and now that rowan was caffeinated -still not quite ready to face the weird day ahead, but at least caffeinated- she could appreciate how he didn’t go all out. it didn’t seem like a desperate cry for help or attention. it seemed like what it probably was: getting her there and having her arrive in comfort, which was greatly appreciated. it didn’t make up for the fact that he dragged her out of the comfort of her own bed and house on a fucking whim, though.

when she finally planted her feet in monaco soil, rowan was looking around like a lost puppy, trying to see if max had rented out yet another car to drive her around, or if she could take her own cab this time around, feel a bit more like a person and herself. god forbid anything that involved max would ever feel normal.

a black aston martin vantage caught her eye -just because she got out of racing what felt like a lifetime ago didn’t mean her love for anything on wheels faltered- and its driver was none other than today’s nemesis, the man responsible for all her trouble the past two weeks and jesus christ he looked good with his hands nonchalantly on the steering wheel. she could make out his sandy blond locks and the structure of his face through the tinted glass and that was enough to purposely walk towards the supercar.

seeing her walk towards him like that was almost menacing and max’s excitement only grew. the uncertainty rowan brought was now something expected, something he’d come to cherish, knowing that she wouldn’t just vanish again. deciding to help her out as much as he could, he stepped out of the car, opened the passenger side door for her and met her halfway, taking her bags.

“i can do that myself” she protested, but max was too quick, already a few steps ahead with her luggage in hand.

“hi yourself. yes, it is a nice morning” he mocked at her lack of curtesy, not because he was bothered by it, more because he could. “can’t you let me be a gentleman for once?”

“i thought you were never gentle.”

“i do have a reputation to uphold, trouble.” he turned around and gave her a knowing wink. he felt a warmth in his chest after seeing how well she remembered their first real conversation.

the car ride was silent, but in true them fashion, it was not an awkward one and max was thriving, convinced that this mistake was the biggest right he’d ever done. the rules were simple and not constrictive, he felt free. in the midst of a season that put immense pressure on him, as the reigning world champion with criticism that regardless of his hard earned lead in the current championship, this would be the second win ‘handed’ to him, this was how he’d truly relax, get away from it all. it was hard to keep the smile forming on his lips, or it would be if he tried even a little bit.

“why am i here, verstappen?” rowan broke the silence and he couldn’t actually decipher her tone. was she being simply inquisitive? was this a question meant to put him in the spot, give her a way out? either way, he wouldn’t reply with anything else but the facts he saw.

“because you want to. you could’ve told me to fuck off about a dozen times.” it was a reminder she needed, but didn’t really appreciate. she opened her mouth to protest, but max cut her off. “and because we need a distraction. wasn’t that the deal?”

“yes…” came her begrudged reply after a few moments of trying to think of a comeback, a reason to tell him to turn the car around and let her go home.

in all honestly, her home didn’t feel like home anymore. although she wasn’t very familiar with the streets of monte carlo, it felt more like home than her own neighbourhood. max being there didn’t hurt either. in fact, he was the reason this place felt so nice instead of a need to burn to the ground. so many things had happened there and their time together, no matter how weird or short, helped her feel like it wasn’t the end, like there was a way to move forward. unorthodox, selfish, maybe even a little bit toxic -only time would tell. but a way nonetheless.

the rules were that max was not to get dragged into her shit, and she was not get dragged into his. fair, simple and important enough. so if she wasn’t to break those rules, she needed to get out of her head; she needed him to get her out of her head.

“will you make good on your promise?”

“i always do. but what promise?” he turned to look at her, confusion clear on his face.

“that you’d make me cum better than my fingers.” desperate times called for desperate measures and rowan was starting to be a master at that. she could never remember herself being so vulgar in the past, and that in itself was making her blush and look straight ahead into the open road, even though her words did not falter.

“all in good time, trouble. let’s get you settled in first.” his voice was warm, sweet and surprisingly, his words didn’t make her want to open the door and throw herself into the traffic. instead, she felt her priorities shift as she remembered how good it felt to just be in his company, forcing herself to take in the moment and things one step at a time. there was no rush and despite of what she’d like to convince herself of, this wasn’t a plainly physical transaction. max had made that clear; it wasn’t just about sex. it was about a distraction, sex being part of it. maybe she could finally let go and be. even for once in her life.

silence laced the atmosphere once again and neither of them cared to break it, not even when they were out of the car and into the elevator, on their way up to max’s apartment. what did change was that max was holding her luggage on one hand while the other travelled along her back, in an aimless back and forth motion. he didn’t even realise he did it until he needed the hand to get his keys. rowan hadn’t said anything, she just enjoyed the relaxing sensation, until it stopped, bringing her back to reality, eyes opening to see the elevator doors doing the same.

“home sweet home. i trust you know the way around the house.” max said as soon as he unlocked the door, going straight to his bedroom, with her bags still in hand…?

“what are you- my bags!”

she rushed behind him, trying to stop max from kidnapping her belongings.

“what?” he said with a chuckle, hearing her footsteps behind him on the marble floor. “oh did you really think you’d be spending your days on the couch with your clothes messed up in your little bag?” max turned to face rowan, amusement clear on his face.

he was giving way too much, but he didn’t know it yet. under any other circumstances he’d notice that this was a limit he might consider twice before crossing. rowan sleeping in his bed, taking up space in his closet, no one he’d known for that little had ever had those ‘privileges’. but this was an overthinking free zone, no second thoughts while she was there. that was his own rule in their… whatever that was.

“but the couch is sooo comfortable!”

“stop whining and settle in”

and she did, without bothering to weigh out the pros and cons, the significance behind his words and actions. rowan had to know by now that with max, what he said was what he meant. it was a strange thing to get used to, for sure. it was also liberating, having to focus less on subtext like she was analysing salinger in school all over again. it had been a while since nothing had been complicated, and while it would take a few shakes of her head to keep her from drifting away and creating her own scenarios and meanings, it was a good thing.

a couple hours later found them in the couch she used to call her bed, comfortably sitting next to each other while a scifi movie played on the tv that neither of them paid any real attention to. the coffee table was full of empty take out boxes, to which rowan protested, thinking of max’s diet. her concerns were quickly dismissed by a gesture of his hand and a scoff, followed by him opening the ubereats app on his phone and asking her what she was in the mood for, to which rowan simply said ‘surprise me’.

the buildup to the movie’s climax found them next to each other. rowan had both her feet on the soft grey cushions, both knees bent. one leg was resting against the cushion, while the other, her right one and the one right next to max, was propped up. max on the other hand was not exactly sitting, his body spilled on the couch, taking up much more space than he normally would, still leaving the girl with enough to do the same.

so when his left hand reached and touched her skin, she should’ve seen it coming. her jean shorts were not doing much to cover her up -not that she needed to; he’d seen all of her before- and still left a lot of her legs exposed. it would be a blatant lie if she said she hadn’t thought of using it to get his gears turning, even as an afterthought when she hastily got dressed that morning. rowan had never been one to dress or do anything for male approval, and she wasn’t about to start now. but the past week had her head filled with thoughts of him, and when a small voice in her head told her when she was so unexpectedly woken up by his call, that she might get to see him, the thought of holding even the slightest bit of power over him, provoking as subtly as possible, shot a thrilling sensation up her spine.

that power trip did not end with just a pair of loose jean shorts that were just tight enough around her waist and short enough to not be skimpy, and a simple, black, skin tight tank top. it continued with pretending to ignore how his hand felt on her thigh, how close he was to her core which had never really gone to sleep to be woken up all this time. she kept ignoring him even when he squeezed, and from the side of her eye she caught how his fingers tensed up and his knuckles turned white while she was taking the pain it caused in small surges of pleasure. she even managed to ignore him when his grip loosened and his fingers got busy tracing patterns on the reddened skin. but she couldn’t ignore him enough, a triumphant smile appeared on her lips that max was too quick to catch on.

“are you that happy to have the protagonist die and never see his family again?”

“oh yeah, dude’s a complete asshole.”

“nice try, rowan.” her smile was matched with a smirk from max who had been anything but oblivious to her reactions, eager to get something out of her and finally, he did.

they remained silent and max kept his gentle caress, slowly teasing the girl next to him. rowan had a plan of her own. she’d been made, yes, but he gave himself away: he was watching. and if he was watching, she was going to give him a show. bringing her right index finger against her lips, the tip of her nail found her teeth. if he wasn’t going to look her way again, it would seem like she was just biting her nail. if he paid attention though, he would see how the pad of her finger slid across her bottom lip, how her cheeks hollowed just a bit and maybe even notice her tongue darting against it. if max could tease her with a promise of what could be, so could she.

as her lips pursed against her finger, she stole a side glance to her right, and saw max’s chest puff with a breath he’d hold for a good couple seconds before reminding himself to exhale again and another triumphant smile made its way to her face.

“what are you doing?”

like hell she��d give him a straight answer.

“waiting to see if you’ll ever make good on your promise.”

now there was no mistaking which promise she was referring to, or her desire. all that was left was for max to finally make a move. she could be the one to make the move, gods knew how much she wanted to straddle him, feel him against her while their lips clashed. but she also liked the chase, the tease and seeing him break, perhaps she liked that even more.

“be patient, baby.” he saw right through her and paid her back with the same coin. “we do have a movie to finish, anyway.”

in the meantime, ever so subtly, max kept moving millimetres closer to rowan bit by painful bit, until she could feel his hot breath against her neck and her hair standing in response. slow, calculated fingers brushed her hair from her neck, as he took in her scent and continued to caress lightly all her sensitive spots; the one behind her ear and her collarbone received special attention. he would mutter any comments he had on the movie, lips brushing against her earlobe or her jaw. rowan never bothered to actually listened to a word that came out of his mouth, only how they felt when they hit her skin.

the end credits rolled and neither of them moved. max’s hand was still on rowan’s thigh, fingers tightening on the soft flesh when he felt her relax, just to remind her that this wasn’t over; it hadn’t even begun. he was still whispering nothings her way, talking about the movie or something else that the girl never paid any attention to.

soon, the look in her eyes when she turned to face him turned from playful to wanton. the way she looked at him, impatient but keeping still and true to her own game, almost ready to break her perfectly innocent composure and oh so close to falling apart. until she did.

tired of waiting, rowan let max have the win and with a swift move came on top of him, legs now on either side of his, trapping him in place. she was hesitant, careful of giving away too much too quickly. she already got carried away once, after all. as it turned out, there was no need for her inhibitions; besides, max was the only one who could tear them down so quickly. his hands found her neck and drew her close, finally kissing her again. he sighed at the feel of her lips against his into the kiss and he felt rowan do the same. some sweet, well deserved relief.

his hands quickly travelled down to the familiar road from her neck to her chest, stopping only when his palms were full with her tits, fingers ready to knead the skin, even over her shirt, find, tease and tweak on her nipples. he wasted no time doing just that, getting reacquainted with her soft spots, remembering instinctively what made her tick.

rowan was busying herself with stretching the collar of his shirt, fingers reaching underneath, scratching his skin with a dire urgency, desperate to get him moving hard and fast, like she knew he could. max would indulge her, just not yet. she was making him lose his mind, that had not changed nor faltered from the moment they met. but without any substances also messing with his head, he found he could take his time, mess with her a bit more instead.

he could have more control over himself, take his time, look past the feeling of her nails against his skin, the small sounds when he applied just the right pressure on her breast, and tease her a little more. or so he thought, until his mind raced to how her mouth felt elsewhere, besides his lips, until he remembered how soft the skin on her belly felt beneath his fingers as he travelled down lower, to her equally soft pussy. relinquishing all control of his mind over his body in favour to feeling her now he grabbed her by the waist and turned her over on the couch, getting on top of her.

he fumbled against the button and zipper of her shorts, erratically trying to get them off her. the jean fabric was too thick for his liking at the moment and in perfect sync, rowan did the same to his pants, sharing his feelings in more ways than he realised.

she needed to get him out of those clothes, positive that they were hiding all treasures she could ever want beneath them. quickly, they gave up on trying to get the other rid of their clothes; it was too difficult and time consuming for the state they were in, each focusing on their own. not soon enough, they were in their underwear, lost in each other’s form.

rowan thought that perhaps she’d gotten used to his bare torso, from all the days he spent parading around without bothering to put on a shirt, even for modesty’s sake. she still found herself admiring his collar bones, his broad shoulders and chest, his toned abdomen and when her eyes reached his legs she was gone. the soft skin on bulky thighs that was just begging for her attention, just slightly less than his boxer-covered crotch was enough to leave her frozen in place.

for max, seeing rowan like that, only in a pair of lacy panties, sprawled on his couch, was nothing short of a sight to behold. the afternoon light was not allowing for a single detail to be left to the imagination and he was taking everything in, as if it was the first time. in a way, it was, making everything even more exhilarating.

senses were heightened; taste was not altered by the foul taste of weed and that alone opened up a whole new realm of possibilities to explore that neither of them had the patience to list out but knew were there. smell was dominant, the room already filling up with the scent of sex, while most of all, there was nothing making their limbs numb, the other’s skin underneath their palms felt more real, and there was an urgency that could be finally converted into action.

within a matter of nanoseconds, rowan had gotten up while max was bending forward, meeting her halfway when their bodies collided, arms wrapping tightly around the other, lips clashing in a not so tender kiss. rowan heard herself moan into max’s mouth, a sound of pure relief that didn’t fail to grind his gears, fingers quickly finding her neck and pulling her even closer, not giving her much chance of escaping until he was done, setting the tone for the rest of their afternoon. as long as she kept moaning for him, he’d have more to take and more to give.

with eyes still closed and lips still attached, lost in her, max lead them slowly and carefully -more to not break contact than for the sake of being careful and not tripping on the way- to the bedroom. a familiar enough setting, and there was a thought that switching things up might be preferable, which was quickly dismissed in the name of comfort, spaciousness and some relevant privacy. backtracking to the bedroom, max allowed himself to fall on the mattress and finally broke the kiss.

“sit on my face, baby.” leaving rowan dumbfounded. “did i stutter, love?” he played on her surprise, to which rowan didn’t bother with a verbal response.

‘ask and you shall receive’ was the only thought through her mind as she took off her underwear and positioned herself above his head, slowly lowering her core until she felt the contact, making her legs shake just a little but managed to come to a halt in her descent.

his hands quickly and expertly wrapped around her thighs, immediately applying his strength to bring her even further down, until he could feel her thighs mushing his face. once he was content with the positioning, he got to work. only this time, it wasn’t going to be slow or an exposition of his technique.

this time around, it was about needing his face covered with her juices until it was the only thing he’d be able to smell and taste for a week. it was about devouring the sensitive flesh, taking in as much of her as he could. a selfish endeavour that included hard sucking of her folds, teeth scraping those very same, tender spots and tongue working to quench this newfound and unique thirst.

it almost wasn’t about rowan’s pleasure at all. but she didn’t care, it didn’t matter. all that mattered is that it felt too damn good. not only how it felt like eating her pussy was keeping him alive, but how his hands didn’t allow her to move, highlighting that this was not about her; it would not be over until he was satiated, whether that meant she came five times or none at all. and for some reason, that exact feeling was what was driving rowan to the brink of madness only when combined with how his tongue brushed her clit and lapped against it. he was a rabid dog and she was heading to the same direction.

no matter how good it felt, it wasn’t enough. her hands reached for her nipples, trying to bring in some extra stimulation. it worked, as her fingers found max’s rhythm and got in sync, but yet again, it just wasn’t enough. wave after wave of pleasure, something was missing; she was empty. she needed him inside her mouth, her cunt, somewhere.

“max… please…” darkened blue eyes shot open and glared at her, with no stop in his motions. “let me… let me turn around.” words came out between sharp breaths and moans, vowels mixing together. when max didn’t comply with her request, she knew she needed to try harder. “please… i need to feel… you… please.” he didn’t understand, and he wasn’t done, but those pleas made his knees weak. with the first chance he got, he raised his hands from her thighs to her hips, lifting her up and prompting her to turn around, helping as much as he could while never letting her forget that she was not the one in charge.

as soon as her knees touched the mattress again, max’s mouth was again working on her pussy, almost distracting her from her mission. the empty feeling returned soon though, reminding her that she needed to get to work if she wanted to be able to get the most out of her body and what he was doing, how he was making her feel. bending down, her mouth found his cock almost by instinct and she wrapped her lips around it as tightly as she could, as if it held her life inside, determined to get it back inside her.

she couldn’t know if she forgot to swallow or she was just salivating that much at the feeling, the taste of the sensitive skin on her tongue. regardless, rowan was soon testing the limits of her gag reflex time and time again, pushing his cock further down her throat even just a little with each bob of her head. it was all becoming too much, the sensations on her pussy, his feeling in her mouth, her need and striving for more with each passing second, it was making her dizzy. that and the fact that she was too preoccupied to remind herself to come up for air more frequently, letting her body reach its limit at choking on max’s dick.

rowan was still trying to grind herself against his face, get more friction, find a way to let him know that she needed something inside her to accompany his tongue even for just a few seconds, it would be enough to finally get her over the edge. all her efforts were in vain though, and they would continue to be, even as his load hit the back of her throat, hips bucking to get himself further inside her and rowan gagged but tried her best to keep in place and suck even harder.

with max not nearly satiated but with a bit more clear head and rowan still out of her mind, he guided her gently off him and turned her around to bring her up. he needed her to taste herself on his tongue, know exactly what it was that made her feel like that. and tasting himself on hers didn’t hurt as a small, triumphant smile shone through their kiss.

rowan was still lucid enough to assert herself, although her body worked on autopilot. max’s hands travelled to her back and sides, grabbing firmly and hungrily at anything he could find. not letting that stop her, the girl was quick to straddle him. her legs locked tightly around his hips, and with very little effort she finally felt him almost slip inside her, filling her up in an instant. the shock of the sensation, of the newfound kind of pleasure mixed with the slightest bit of pain of stretching around him made her stop in her tracks, movements frozen in time as her eyes shot wide open and turned to the ceiling.

max on the other hand was more quick to adjust, ready to feel more and his hands locked on her hipbones as his pelvis moved, creating much needed friction. this helped rowan adjust, realise what was going on and for a few minutes, she allowed herself to enjoy it. she was coming back to her senses, in a way, as if her brain was finally allowed to work again to let everything sink in. alas, that didn’t last. turns out, max was not a fan of repetition and was quick to change the rhythm and pace, almost violently moving his body against hers, as the sound of skin against skin was almost drowned out by her cries and his grunts. it felt as if with each thrust he was reaching even deeper into her and rowan could only think of one word: how. but she wasn’t going to complain. even if she wanted to, words would fail her.

when he slowed down, presumably to take a breath, rowan took matters into her own hands, still not satiated. she balanced herself on her hands which she placed on his chest, and let her body take over once more. there was no telling if there was any rhythm in the frantic movements of her hips, her only indicator being her own pleasure. her eyes had been closed, too focused on the sensation of his hard cock inside her to ruin it with any other sense. touch was the only one that mattered. how his skin felt beneath her fingertips, how his fingers were bound to leave bruises on her hips, how she could never explain the ecstasy inside her, but she knew it was still touch.

despite feeling her thighs burning, rowan was unyielding; still moving against him, riding the man beneath her as if her life depended on it, her muscles were starting to give up. in trying to find a more comfortable position, she removed her hands from his chest and replaced them with her entire torso, almost falling on him, all while trying not to miss a single beat. max caught her in the very last moment, just before her head was millimetres away from collapsing on his neck, by grabbing her by the hair, pulling her up.

rowan’s mouth hung agape, hair unruly and all over her face, eyes barely open and darker than he’d ever saw them and max had never wanted to fuck the everloving shit out of somebody else as much. the same hand that was holding her up by the hair twisted the fingers around the strands and rowan winced in pain, which max was quick to wash down with a kiss, bringing her face close enough to clash their lips together. all while rowan was practically shaking against him. he almost took pity on her. almost.

“is my baby close?” the fist coherent sounds in a long time, rowan took a while to process but was quick to respond with a shake of her head and another loud moan. if only he knew how much closer calling her that brought her.

his free hand gently touched her back, signalling that she could relax, take a break, he could take over. and he did take over, as his fistful of hair raised her body just enough so he could slide his hand from her back between them and reach her cunt. fingers teased, taking a few seconds to find her clit. and once he was sure he had it, he could keep it up, max resumed his thrusts. hard and fast, not caring about going deep this time around; he just followed his body and kept doing what felt right. and apparently what felt right for him also felt right for her. he could feel her tightening around him -as if that were possible- and her breaths became quick and shallow. now it was only a matter of a few seconds and keep doing exactly what he’d been doing.

the pieces of his plan came together as rowan came apart, writhing on his cock, as her body contorted and her mouth was busying itself with words he couldn’t comprehend in the midst of his own haze. she felt so fucking good, she looked so fucking good and all that was his. only his. all this was because of and for him. he’d made her feel like this, he’d made her look like that.

it seemed like rowan was slowly coming down from her high, regaining her composure. but max wasn’t about to have that, not when he was so close himself. he removed his hand from her pussy and reached for her tit instead, feeling how perfectly it filled up his palm while her nipple had been begging for attention even after everything. and who was he to deny her? fingers got busy fondling the soft skin of her breast, while tweaking the nipple, and rowan sucked in her breath and almost protested.

she’d had enough. all that teasing and edging only to lead to her feeling filled to the brim as his cock caressed the perfect spots with every thrust and his fingers just knew how to move against her clit had her seeing stars. and yes, it was enough. but her hips were still bucking against his, and her pussy was still dripping, a direct manifestation of how she just needed more. and more he gave her. sure, she was sensitive. but for the first time in her life, that didn’t mean stop; it meant that a second orgasm was closer than ever.

and as max reached even closer his own climax, he traded any finesse for even harder thrusts, inevitably getting deeper. and as that happened, rowan felt like she was a backseat driver in her own body, which had grown limp. hoarse sounds escaped her scratched throat and as max’s cock twitched inside her, and that was the final straw. not only feeling it along with the pain from her hair still in his grip and her sensitive nipple being borderline abused, but knowing that he was coming inside her, that she’d made that happen all on her own, brought rowan past the edge again.

max may or may not have been totally oblivious to rowan’s second orgasm, being too focused on the unique sensation that it was to come inside her when she was like that. had he the mind, perhaps he would have realised that what made this time so special was the girl’s own climax. but in the end, it made little to no difference for either of them. they both got what they wanted; everything that had been promised and more.

they shared another breathless yet soft kiss, before he helped her off him, and she did need the help. her legs were almost too sore to close, something she’d definitely feel the next morning among other things that she couldn’t even begin to list.

“so that was… something.” max broke the silence and rowan laughed.

“yeah, you can call it that.” she tried to roll over and get up, take a shower, get dressed, her usual routine, but her legs weren’t cooperating.

“stay here.” it was something between a command and a plea, as he extended his arm, making room her her to lie on his chest. rowan complied, but she was still running her mouth, the adrenaline still had not quite worn off.

“is that what we’re doing now?”

“it’s what we’ve done before.” except you went and left like a thief, max wanted to add but bit his tongue. there was no reason for this, not now.

the sun was beginning to set and when he woke up, the moon was gently shining through his window, providing little light. but he didn’t need to see to feel her weight against him, her soft breath on his skin. he wrapped one arm around her waist, bringing her even closer and closed his eyes again with a dreamy hope that when he opened them again, she’d still be there.

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if you've made it this far, thank you. i understand that this took three months to be delivered and i do have excuses, but you probably don't care for them. it still took three months less to be completed than part one, so i'll give me that much heh!

so if this has an abrupt ending, i'm sorry. but there are too many things going on at the moment to have the anxiety of another wip in my mind. maybe someday i'll get back to patching any holes. perhaps it will be "and they were rommates!!! the dlc" or some shit.

rowan has a backstory (in contrast to any other female main characters i've ever written for smut fics) that would be fun to explore someday, because i do like her. and i'm sure you'd like her too.

as always, your feedback is welcome and appreciated! i love you all for sticking with this story, taking the time to read it!

take care, have fun and BE SAFE THOSE FUCKERS HAVE NEVER HEARD OF A CONDOM JFC

taglist (sorry if i forgot someone!!):

@whathesaids @sriusun @punkladymoes @atlanticowe @shyartisanvoidwagon

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen smut #max verstappen imagine #formula 1 smut #f1 #theo rambles #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #original named female character

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