#And Sundown's story too

[alynnl]

Live A Live Remake: Thoughts

It’s been roughly three weeks since I played through all of the Live A Live remake for the Switch.  It was a fun little game, just way shorter than what I’m used to.  I’m going to give my thoughts on all the different eras, as well as the final area.  Spoilers ahead, as I will be talking about all chapters and endgame!  I will be talking about every era in terms of gameplay and story.

Prehistory: Out of all of them, this one plays the most like a standard fantasy RPG.  You fight monsters to get healing items and materials to forge better weapons.  You have a party with their strengths and weaknesses, and of course a final boss showdown at the end of the chapter.

Story-wise it’s also pretty typical of RPGs.  Boy meets girl, girl has problems, boy tries helping girl and also gets into problems, girl gets captured, boy saves her, boy and his friends fight big monster, and they live happily ever after.  The twist to prehistory is that all of this is told without words and dialogue, so the story is instead told by emotes and gestures.  I thought that was a great creative decision, and it makes me believe that this is a time before words as we know them.  Pogo as a character is kind of endearing, but not gonna lie, he’s also thirsty if ya know what I mean.

Imperial China:  Gameplay wise, this one also has more of a JRPG flavor.  You have your main character, you have three others who can join your party at first, and then you have encounters that you can avoid, and items to gather.  It also plays on the “duel” mechanic some RPGs have, where there are one-on-one fights against opponents.

This one plays on a lot of kung fu movie tropes from what I can see.  You have the wise mentor and then the promising disciples, and the whole idea of what it means to be a martial artist.  There are people who use their kung fu for good reasons and bad, it all depends on the heart of the person.  The plot twist of only one disciple surviving an attack from a rival dojo (really, a gang if you think about it) was handled really well, and it’s interesting that the player has a choice and the survivor is not scripted for later replays.  The Earthen Heart Shifu himself is not portrayed as perfect and he makes mistakes, but overall he is a man who just wants his style of martial arts to live on.

The Twilight of Edo Japan: The gameplay mechanics in this one are very interesting.  It’s a mix between RPG combat and stealth, and you really have the option to pick your battles, so to say.  Then there’s a counter showing how many lives you’ve taken in battle, and even when you’re forced into a fight, there’s the option to run away.  One can do a “kill ‘em all” run, a pacifist run, or a neutral run.

Story-wise we’re given all the trappings of any Japanese fantasy.  There’s clans fighting one another, ninjas, and samurai.  (Although it’s pretty cool that the playable samurai in this one also has a gun, which is accurate for the time period!)  It’s a story about shaping Japan’s future.  Whether it’s a new dawn or storm clouds are on the horizon is up to you.  Either way, Oboromaru takes his role as a shinobi seriously and he’s determined to see his mission through.

The Wild West: I wanted to like this chapter.  I wanted to love this chapter.  But gameplay wise it was very difficult for a first-time player.  Because right after you see the cutscenes and you're introduced to the characters and the town, you have a timed mission.  That’s right, a timed mission to set traps before the boss and his cronies come, and if you don’t set enough traps correctly, you will have a monster of a boss fight on your hands.  I will be up front and say I used a guide because sometimes, that’s how you have to get things done.

Story-wise I did like this chapter though.  That’s what it’s got going for it, despite the difficulty curve.  Sundown doesn’t know any of the people in the town of Success, but he’s still willing to stop there and lend a hand and help them deal with a band of outlaws that have been terrorizing them.  There’s some back and forth between him and his rival, Mad Dog that I really enjoy, and there’s a choice you can make in the ending (to flee the last duel and spare Mad Dog) that makes it just worth it to replay at least one more time.

Present Day:  Gameplay wise, Present day is  like a fighting game.  Think Street Fighter, or Tekken but with the twist that you get to learn your opponents’ techniques if they use them on you.  I like how you get unlimited tries to do this, so that you can learn every skill your rivals have to offer (I know I wanted to get them all.)  The boss at the end is challenging enough to make it interesting, but if you picked up all the skills, he’s not unbeatable.

Story-wise, it’s fairly simple.  Masaru wants to be the strongest warrior, so  he challenges masters of various martial arts to learn from them and use their techniques.  It’s implied that he’s always going to be fighting for this title of The Strongest, as he faces another challenger immediately after the boss.  I think I get what the story was going for.  Being the best is a constant struggle, and sooner or later, someone else is going to rise to the top.

The Near Future: This one reminded me a bit of modern day Golden Sun!  You have different elemental powers that you use in battle, and you’re also able to read others’ minds and find out different flavor text from them.  There’s also a hint of Magitek gameplay when you get control of the Steel Titan later on.  All around solid, easy to pick up gameplay that sometimes makes you feel really powerful.

Plot-wise, I really enjoyed this story.  But that’s only because I love mecha in general and it fills me with a lot of nostalgia.  At first Akira isn’t sure what to do with his life and he’s sort of an outcast for the whole “reading minds” deal, but then he’s able to prove himself a hero when he finally takes control of the Steel Titan and goes to smack a corrupted God back into oblivion.  Imagine conspiring to bring back a mad god, only to have a mouthy mind-reading punk pound it with mecha.  Amazing.

The Distant Future:  Gameplay wise it’s a lot of dialogue, looking for clues, and later, running.  Essentially it plays like a futuristic survival horror.  There’s a conspiracy and it’s up to you to find clues to uncover it, all while being chased by a monster that will meet you with instant death if it touches you.  You have no weapons, just places to hide.

Story wise I swear it felt like Space Odyssey: 2001 the video game.  You have a crew who go in and out of cryo-sleep, you have inventors and you have an AI gone rogue.  There is discord among the crew and a sort of whodunit plot, and it all culminates in a confrontation with the computer OD-10, that decides it was going to murder people because they weren’t working in perfect harmony.  Cube has to fight for their life, and the lives of the two remaining survivors: their creator Kato and the soldier Darthe (who despised Cube at first but opens up to them later.)  Ultimately Cube’s story values the robot’s kindness over any physical strength or violence.

The Medieval Era: Gameplay wise you couldn’t get more standard of an RPG at first.  You’re in a fantasy medieval setting, with your main character Oersted being a knight who goes on a quest to rescue the princess Alethea from a demon lord that was defeated by a great hero in the past.  There is the “epic quest” aspect of the gameplay, traveling the world, finding party members and fighting random encounters.  Even after the plot happens and the party members dwindle, the swords and sorcery gameplay remains.

Story wise, I got spoiled.  But I was still in awe to actually see it on screen.  What I expected was a happy Dragon Quest like fantasy, where the hero saved the princess with the help of his friends and everyone lived happily ever after.  What I got instead was a Shakespearean tragedy.  In the course of the story, everyone important to Oersted either betrays him or dies, sometimes both at the same time.  All of the loss, hatred and pain leads Oersted, once champion of his realm into becoming the Lord of Dark himself, lashing out against everyone who wronged him with newfound dark power.  It is heartbreaking to see his attempts to do the right thing at every turn just backfire against him, making it almost understandable that he is driven to villainy (although hermit life could’ve also been an option and I’ll stand by that as an AU possibility.)

The Final Chapter: Plot-wise and gameplay wise, it feels very open world.  The protagonists from the different eras are brought together in the Dominion of Hate, which is just Oersted’s former kingdom brought to ruin.  Technically the only place you have to go is the dark mountain to face off against Odio (who’s completely taken over Oersted by now.)  But the different areas of the ruined kingdom and all the different trials your seven protagonists can take on really put me in mind of Ocarina of time and the Sages’ temples.  Every trial you take on gives you an ultimate weapon for that character, which is crucial to the ending.  And whoever you choose to lead the finale will personally confront Oersted after you do the true final boss battle.  There are so many different ways the final chapter could go, and each one is worth exploring.

[gallusrostromegalus]

I haven't seen any dog stories in a while. How are Charleston and The Hanukkah Goblin doing?

Dog updates!

The first one is a little sad, but also how life should go. Arwen is 14 now and while she's still moving, eating, pooping and generally enjoying life, she also has canine dementia and sundown syndrome where she gets extremely nervous and her dementia gets worse after dark. She'll be with us for a while yet, but it's something we have to manage now.

One person who is very much helping her manage is Herschel. My parents are traveling a lot while they still have the knees for it so I spend a lot of time up at their house, and Charleston and Herschel come up too. Being a Corgi, Herschel likes to manage things, and Arwen would like someone to manage things for her so he's become her self-appointed guide dog.

When I call the dogs for food or outside, he goes and finds her deaf ass and herds her to the location. Normally she doesn't go outside after dark but when the boys are there she's willing to wait for Charlie to chase away anything that might be lurking out there, and then follow Herschel's ass around the yard at night.

Very literally.

She's also got cataracts forming and I think his bright white backside is easy for her to see in the dark, so she follows it around.

During daytime walks she sees well enough but neither she nor Charlie are fans of strange off-leash dogs running up to them (a regrettably common problem out here. I don't care if your dog is friendly MINE ARE NOT!), so both of them prefer to walk half a pace behind Herschel so his more socially adept and knife-filled face is out front to intercept any unwanted solicitors. This does tend to give people the opposite impression though- because he is so much shorter, Herschel gives the impression of a tiny, charming mafioso flanked by his two large and surly bodyguards.

Like, they absolutely would kill a bear for him.

But Charlie and Arwen would also try to kill a bear on general principle.

At night, when Arwen barks at shadows, Herschel runs up and stand between her and the alleged menace, and does his best to look large and intimidating and for as silly as he looks, he does have a very good growl. After a moment, when the alleged bear or congressman or other horror fails to appear, he will stick his nose into the offending shadow, and finding nothing, be satisfied that their joint effort has successfully chased the problem off, and report back to her. This, more than anything else, seems to alleviate Arwen 's fears.

I guess we all just need someone to take us seriously when we're frightened.

Charleston, meanwhile, has gotten into giving safari tours of the front range's small vertebrates.

After eight years of managing his exceptionally high prey drive, something clicked earlier this summer and instead of immediately lunging his whole face at any approximately bite-sized animal in an attempt to expedite it's journey into his stomach, Charlie has started *pointing* at things until I come look at them and tell him he's a good boy. This started with a mole, something he'd never seen before and that moves above ground in a strange way, so he wasn't sure about eating it, so he only alerted at it. "GOOD BOY!" I shouted, giving him all the cuddles. "GOOD SPOT! GOOD JOB NOT EATING IT!"

It's important to reward behavior you want to see.

Since then, he's been trying out pointing at small creatures in the grass and then making very pointed eye contact with me until I come look at them. This is a little tricky when walking both dogs because Herschel is still very much in his "inhale wildlife" phase, but usually I can lock the little gremlin's leash and go look at whatever Charlie has cornered while Herschel attempts to develop telekinesis to will the critter into his mouth.

So far, Charleston has found: a baby rabbit, several baby rabbits in a cluster, an adult rabbit with Jackalope virus, several voles, several moles, a fledgling owl, only the two mice, several mouse-sized grasshoppers and cicada, someone's pet rat (the person was searching within earshot and 'Socks' was collected forthwith), a beanie baby that had me fooled for a hit minute too, a marmot which I didn't know lived down here, a groundhog which I didn't know lived up here, a mink, so many toads, a wild turkey chick, so many more garter snakes and last night, an aquatic shrew.

I don't know if there's an Audubon Society for small things that scuttle around in the undergrowth, but I am inclined to join solely to get Charleston recognition for his service in surveying them.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 11: The Innocent Can Never Last]

A/N: Below are your guesses…let’s see how you did!!! 🥰😘 Only 2 chapters left 🥳

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon™️, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Wake Me Up When September Ends” by Green Day.

Word count: 5.3k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

“You could have gone to California with them,” Rio says as he flips open the fuel cap of a black Nissan Frontier, parked in the driveway of a two-story brick house on National Avenue, not far from where Route 95 branches north of Winnemucca like an artery from a heart.

You squint up at the cumulus clouds to avoid meeting his eyes. You keep thinking you’re going to cry and have to suffocate it, drown it, slit its throat. “I didn’t want to.”

“Sure you didn’t.” Sweat runs in rivulets down his face as he slides in the semitransparent siphoning hose, the one with the little pump on it that Jace had when you found him in Iowa. Aemond gave this to Cregan; he kept the hose without the pump for himself. A small, curious sacrifice. You are fanning Rio with a magazine, Bow International. You had grabbed it thinking of Daeron, then remembered he wasn’t here to give it to. “Jesus Christ, it’s so fucking hot…”

“Djibouti was hotter.”

“Djibouti had a beach. And an air conditioning unit in every window.”

Cregan is waiting by the Tahoe and leafing through a guidebook he found at the Maverik gas station. Ice is lying on the ground and panting beside him, her shaggy grey coat filthy with dust and sand. “The town was named for Chief Winnemucca, who was born in the 1820s in what would later become the Oregon Territory. It either means ‘the giver of spiritual gifts’ or ‘one moccasin,’ depending on the interpretation.”

Rio says: “Damn Cregan, you can read?”

Cregan frowns down at the guidebook with feigned regret. “I really wish Trump had built that wall.”

Rio guffaws. “Cregan, man, I told you. I was born here!”

He continues: “Winnemucca was a stop on the transcontinental railroad.”

“Great. Let’s get that up and running again.” Rio groans as he squeezes the pump on the siphoning hose with increasing frustration. “Absolutely nothing. Not a drop.”

“We probably have enough to get to Denio Junction,” you say gingerly, knowing he’s suffering. It has to be over 100 degrees.

“Yeah, and what if there’s no gas there? How the hell are we going to get to Adel, Oregon?”

“We could walk if we have to.”

“85 miles? In heat like this?”

“In basic training we had to run—”

“We had water in basic training, Chips!” he snaps; and Rio never snaps. “And real food, and corpsmen for if we passed out, and also there were no fucking zombies running around eating people, remember that part?!”

You stare down at the dirt. You can’t cry; you can’t waste the liquid.

“Wait, no, no, no, I’m sorry.” Rio lifts your chin so you aren’t able to hide from him. “I’m…you know…I should already be there. I could be in Odessa in six hours, I could be with Sophie and the baby before sundown, and instead we’re stuck here in the desert and I’m thinking…what if what should take hours ends up taking weeks? What if when I get there, I’m too late?”

You nod, you understand. Out on the road, Cregan keeps his face buried in his guidebook, trying to be polite and pretend he can’t hear you.

“And, I’m also thinking…” Rio says, soft and low. “That I don’t want to be the reason why you miss out on a chance at happiness when the world could literally be ending.”

You gaze up at him, dejected, pathetic. “I can’t handle any virgin jokes right now.”

“I know. I wasn’t going to make one.”

“I didn’t want to go with them to California,” you lie. And then a truth: “And I would never leave you. I promised.”

Rio smiles. “You promised not to let me die alone, and I don’t plan on dying. You’ve gotten me most of the way already.” He glances towards the Tahoe. “I think Axe Boy would have rather stayed with them too. When he was asleep last night I heard him mumbling something about Helaena.”

Cregan? Helaena? Interesting. “Aemond doesn’t want me.”

“Oh, come on. You know he and his one eye are sobbing into a can of SpaghettiOs right now.”

“Be nice,” you murmur morosely.

“Why? He can’t hear me,” Rio says. “Look, Aemond’s fucked up. And of course he is. He went from learning how to save lives and deliver babies to watching his friends die horrible, preventable, completely meaningless deaths. That’s gotta suck. It sucked for me, and I barely even knew them, and no one expected me to be able to do anything about it. Aemond’s the one people trusted to protect them, and he couldn’t. So why would he be able to protect you?”

I never wanted Aemond to protect me. I just wanted him to take me away from here, even for a minute, even for seconds, one hushed stolen moment at a time. “I wish I had said something different back in Battle Mountain.” I wish I had told him I love him. But I didn’t, and now it’s too late.

“You deserve to have the whole wholesome normal family thing, the husband and the kids and the warm fuzzy holiday traditions. I know you’ve always wanted that.”

“If I choose the wrong person, I’m going to end up alone and miserable. And I’ll turn into a monster like my mother.”

“Hey,” Rio says, like he’s ready to fight you. And then he uses your real name, something he’s done maybe five times since you met him, just like you almost never call him Bryan. “You will never be like your mother. Okay? It’s not possible. You don’t have it in you. You’re not a parasite, you’re not mean.”

You want to believe him. “Okay.”

Then Rio chuckles. “Actually, you’re going to end up like my mom. Living in the middle of the woods, making your own soap out of goat milk, growing weed and knitting sweaters.”

You smile wistfully. “I have no idea how to knit. I want to build things.” Then you remember something from when you were fishing on Lake McConaughy in Nebraska. “Aegon said I look like someone who knits. Whatever that means.”

“It means you’re from Kentucky.” Then Rio asks, tentative: “So…what do you think about Aegon?”

This seems random. “He’s cool. I like him, obviously. He’s, um…I don’t know how to describe it. He’s so sad but so warm. It’s impossible to feel nervous around him, which is nice.”

Rio nods, giving you a teasing smirk. “Alright then.”

“Why?”

“Well I was just thinking that if he grows up a little more, he might be good for you.”

“Rio, he’s thirty.”

He bursts out laughing. “So give it another decade and he’ll finally be baby daddy material.”

“I’m sure he’ll be preoccupied with his drug dealing and brothel empire by then.”

“You aren’t even the tiniest bit intrigued?”

“I’ve never really thought about him that way.” And there’s another dimension to it that wouldn’t occur to Rio: Aegon is an addict. You know what it’s like to have to depend on somebody like that. You would never allow yourself to fall in love with him, not the way he is now.

Rio sighs and pivots. “You want me to give you a baby?”

Now you’re giggling. Of course, he’s not serious, just like he wasn’t serious when you were trapped on that transmission tower together back in Pennsylvania. “Stop.”

“I’m super tall and charming, and I was a great electrician back when electricity existed, and I have luscious curly hair that you can readily observe since the U.S. Navy isn’t around to make me shave it off anymore.”

“Sorry, I don’t reproduce with Enrique Iglesias fans.”

“You are so racist, and yet I’d still be willing to help you out with a sperm donation. I’d blindfold myself and struggle through it somehow.” He’s grinning, but his dark eyes are kind. “As long as I’m alive, you will always have a family. And Sophie gets that. Her parents were fuckups too. That’s why she’s so close with mine even though they’re insane.”

“They’re exactly the right kind of insane for the way the world is now.”

“Remember when my dad went through his ‘wifi gives you cancer’ phase and would only communicate with me via Republican-president-themed postcards?”

“The Ronald Reagan one was neat. So many eagles.”

“Truly an excessive amount of eagles.” Rio goes for the porch. “I guess we’ll scrounge whatever we can inside and check the rest of the cars on the street before we head north.”

“I ain’t seen any others without the fuel cap already open,” Cregan says from the Tahoe, dispirited but trying not to show it.

“If we end up having to walk, we’re going to need water or Hawaiian Punch or something. A lot of it. Maybe we can find some of that Pedialyte stuff Aemond got for Jace when he was sick.” Rio pounds one closed fist against the front door. “Hey! Anybody home? We’re looking for supplies. Not trying to cause any problems. If somebody’s in there, just give a shout and we’d be happy to keep moving.”

You’ve followed Rio up onto the porch. “If there’s no water inside, canned fruit will work. You can drink the syrup for hydration, and all the sugar gives you calories.”

Back by the Tahoe, Cregan is leaning down to pet Ice. She’s still panting hard, foamy saliva dripping from her muzzle. “Y’all, we gotta get moving,” Cregan says. “Princess needs to be back in the truck with the AC, and I don’t want to waste gas by letting it idle.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re working on it.” Rio kicks the door once, hard enough that you hear the wood split near the hinges, dry and cracking. He backs up to prepare to give the door another blow, which is all it will take. Then there is a muffled voice from inside the house.

“Get the hell off my property!”

Immediately, you are stunned by the boom of an explosion, shards of wood flying like shrapnel, the steel barrel of a shotgun jutting from the fresh hole in the center of the door. Rio is scrambling off the porch and dragging you with him. With your free hand, you grab your M9 from its holster and begin shooting before the man inside can fire again, before he can kill Rio or Cregan or you. Your bullets pierce through the blackness of the gaping wound in the front door. You hear shrieks of agony; you see flecks of blood painting the wood. Now there are people shooting from the second-story windows, and you feel the wind of bullets clip by as Rio pulls you towards the Tahoe. The engine starts; Cregan is already in the driver’s seat. You return fire until your M9 makes only small, hollow clicks when you pull the trigger. And by then Rio is shoving you into the truck.

“Go, go, go!” Rio yells at Cregan the second he crawls in behind you and slams the door shut. Cregan swerves away from the curb and barrels down the street, tires squealing, gunshots still ringing out from the house. Ice is barking franticly.

“Rio, I’m out,” you say, terrified.

“What?”

“Bullets. I’m out of bullets.”

“We gotta go,” Rio concedes. There are scratches on his cheeks from splinters of wood, sweat turning from clear to blood-tinged pink as it drips down onto his shirt. “We gotta get out of Winnemucca. If we have to walk, we’ll walk. At least there’s no one north of here to worry about for a hundred miles. Not living and not dead either.”

From the backseat, you glance over at Cregan. “Oh my God, Cregan, you’re hurt.”

“I know.” His right forearm is covered in blood. It’s a graze wound, but deep; when he turns the steering wheel, you can glimpse the white of bone as his shredded muscles open like a mouth.

“You need stitches!”

“Oh yeah?” Cregan replies as the Tahoe bumps over corpses in the street, bodies mummified by the wind and the sun. “And which of you two would be better at that, you think?”

“We’ll get supplies to patch you up,” Rio says, peering out the window, searching for someplace to stop. “And enough food and water to last us through the desert. Right there, hop on Route 95, and we’ll find a store at the edge of town before we’re in No Man’s Land.” Cregan jerks the wheel; the Tahoe veers onto Route 95 heading north. Boarded-up houses and graffitied overpasses and gnarled bristlecone pine trees and lifeless traffic lights and looted storefronts pass by in a blur.

You turn to Rio. “What if those people try to follow us?”

“It’ll only take five minutes.”

“Rio…”

“We don’t have enough to drink. If we get stranded in the desert, we’ll die. I’m not dying out there. I didn’t cross 3,000 miles to drop dead just a few hundred away from Sophie.”

He’s right. There’s no other option. North of Winnemucca is a wasteland, a boneyard. “Okay,” you surrender, helping him look for stores. “But we have to be quick.”

“I can be real quick, baby. You’d know that if you took me up on my very selfless sperm donation offer.”

Cregan raises his eyebrows; you can see his reflection in the rearview mirror. “Y’all have a mighty strange relationship.”

Rio is pointing. “Right there, Riverside Grocery & Liquor. Let’s give that a try. Cregan? You see it? By the Taco Bell.”

“Of course you’d be attracted to Taco Bells,” Cregan says as the Tahoe zigzags across the parking lot, but his voice is woozy. Blood pours from the gash in his arm. What if the bullet severed a major artery? What if he’s bleeding to death?

You ask: “Cregan, do you feel okay?”

“I’m alright. Don’t you worry about me, Miss Chips. You got enough worries already.”

“You don’t look alright.”

His eyes meet yours in the rearview mirror; they are fearful. “I think I need to get pressure on it.”

“We’ll take care of you, buddy,” Rio says. And as soon as Cregan shifts the Tahoe into park, Rio is out the door and striding into the small grocery store, his Remington 12 gauge in his hands. It’s unloaded, but still good for blunt force trauma. The glass of one of the front doors has been shattered. Rio steps inside, his boots crunching on broken glass. You are right behind him; Cregan lifts Ice with his uninjured arm so she can get inside without cutting her paws.

Harsh desert sunlight streams in bright enough that you can see reasonably well, dusk or dawn instead of midday. The air tastes like dirt and decay. The shelves of alcohol have been picked clean, but cans and bottles and cardboard boxes have been left strewn haphazardly around the rest of the store. There are several circular racks of souvenir t-shirts: horses, mountains, pine trees, I was a buckaroo on the Cowboy Corridor, #DesertLife, Straight Outta Winnemucca. You yank a white shirt with a rattlesnake on it off its hanger and tie it tightly around Cregan’s bleeding forearm, closing the ragged ends of his wound.

Ice is whining and nudging at Cregan. “There’s one in here,” he warns.

“Yeah, I got it,” Rio says. She staggers out of the stockroom hissing and growling, the flesh on her face almost completely gone, her exposed skull stained with clotted blood, her teeth chattering. Long strands of blonde hair hang in patches from the back of her head. She is wearing a red vest with a nametag on it. Once upon a time, her parents called her Jasmine. Rio strikes the zombie with his Remington so hard it is decapitated, and the corpse crumples to the filthy tile floor as its head rolls over towards the cash register. Then he slings the shotgun over one of his shoulders and begins shopping.

Cregan is tall enough to see the tops of shelves where items have been missed; he pulls down bottles of Snapple, Gatorade, Yoohoo, Jarritos soda and stuffs them into his backpack. You are on your hands and knees sorting through the debris on the floor, everything coated with a layer of dust and sand. You find cans of mandarin oranges, boxes of graham crackers, tuna pouches, and packets of Tylenol. Cregan will need them. He needs more than that, but you can’t give it to him. You’ve never been to medical school. You grab more souvenir shirts to use as bandages later.

Maybe there are doctors in Odessa.

Rio says excitedly from the other side of the store: “Chips, they got Cheddar Whales!”

Maybe there’s a life worth living in Odessa.

“Just hurry up so we can go.”

“Yeah, yeah…” He’s filling his arms with boxes and bottles, making a lot of noise. Ice is pacing and whimpering, panting like she can hardly breathe, drooling gluey strings of saliva. The grocery store is an oven. Cregan pops open a can of Arizona iced tea and pours it into her mouth to be gulped greedily down. Still, Ice’s yellow wolfish eyes dart around the room, vigilant, rattled.

“I think there’s another zombie,” you say, watching her. You reach for your M9 before remembering it’s unloaded.

Cregan replies: “Sure she ain’t just overheated?”

Somewhere close, less than a mile away: gunshots out on the streets of Winnemucca.

“Ready, kids?” Rio says, his arms overflowing, half a Slim Jim hanging out of his mouth like a cigarette.

“Yes sir,” Cregan agrees. The t-shirt you knotted around his forearm is splotched with crimson, but the bleeding appears to have slowed. Fragments of glass shatter as he crosses through the doorway and out into the parking lot, carrying Ice as she struggles and barks.

Rio pauses as he passes one of the other t-shirt racks, circles of metal that gleam like halos. He’s rearranging his supplies so he has a free hand to grab a shirt he likes. There are more distant gunshots outside, and the squealing of tires. In the parking lot, Cregan is starting the Tahoe.

You say distractedly, noticing an empty Twizzlers wrapper on the floor and thinking of Jace: “Rio, let’s go.”

“Hold up, this one has an elephant on it—”

The hand juts out from below the rack and seizes his ankle, claws up his legs, rips and tears at him, grey flayed flesh and screeches from rotting vocal chords, something that used to be a man or a woman and is now only a monster, half a body, nothing from the waist down but shred of black necrotic muscle, skin, intestines, too close for Rio to push away, already clinging to him like graffiti on concrete, like a pair of stainless steel dog tags hanging from his neck. Without thinking, without hesitating, you are across the store and trying to get it off him, screaming as your fingers rake through disintegrating gore, so deep you can feel the zombie’s ribs like rungs of a ladder, trying to get a grip on it, trying to kill it. Now Cregan is back with his axe and he’s hacking at the skull as best he can without hitting Rio, and Ice is barking, and Cregan is yelling for you to get away before you’re bitten, but you don’t listen, you don’t care; all your life you were homesick until you found homes with Rio thousands of miles from where you were born, and if he’s gone then so is the only place you’ve ever belonged. There is a surge of blood, hot and metallic, rot and iron in the air, and you don’t know whose it is.

He can’t be gone. If he’s gone, who am I?

An arm hooks around your waist and drags you backwards, so roughly you lose your breath for a moment and cannot fight them; over your right shoulder, you see a hand holding a Glock. Aemond pulls the trigger and the zombie falls to the floor, a mangle of decomposition and exposed bones, because wherever the others ended up they found bullets and gasoline…and then they came back for you.

Aegon is stumbling over the rubble that litters the floor to get to Rio. You can hear Daeron and Rhaena’s voices out in the parking lot, and the blasts of Rhaena’s Ruger, the revolver she once didn’t know how to use. Cregan is trying to help Rio up, but he can’t stand. He is slumped against bare shelves and holding a hand to his throat, where he’s hemorrhaging from a gaping, ragged wound, torn arteries and lacerated veins. He’s been bitten, but his transformation won’t take long. He’s bleeding out. His dark eyes are on you, and beneath the glassy sheen of catastrophic blood loss is disbelief and fury and grief. He will never see Sophie again; he will never meet his child.

Your voice is a whisper, a phantom. “Bryan…”

“It only takes once, right?” he says, weak and guttural, already fading, blood on his lips. Then his eyes drift to Aemond. “Get her out of here.”

“No!” you shriek as Aemond pulls you towards the door, his arms locked around your waist, his lips to your ear as he begs you to come with him, that you have to leave, that it’s not safe here, that Rio doesn’t want you to see what has to happen next. Aegon is sobbing as he touches Rio’s face. Cregan bows his head; but he’s already looking at the Marlin .22 that hangs by its leather strap from Aegon’s shoulder. “No, I promised, I promised! I promised I wouldn’t let him die alone!”

“He’s not alone,” Aemond tells you, and he doesn’t let go when you struggle, when you scream. Burning sunlight floods over you, and you are in the parking lot. Rhaena and Daeron are shooting down zombies as they lurch towards the grocery store, drawn by the commotion, the symphony of the dead and dying. Luke is using a siphoning hose to fill the Tahoe’s tank with the remaining fuel in the Ford Expedition. Helaena is moving their supplies into the Tahoe, weeping softly to herself, her long ghost-pale hair flowing in the desert wind.

The racks, you think, you remember. You can see Helaena shining the flashlight into your eyes like you’re back on a living room floor in Iowa. I forgot to remind Rio to check under the racks. And now he’s gone.

You’re screaming that it’s your fault as Aemond forces you into the Tahoe, and you don’t care what anyone says to you: Luke trying to tell you that’s not true, Rhaena swearing that you’re safe now. There is a gunshot from inside the grocery store. Your heart and lungs have turned to iron like the anchor of a ship, cold and still and heavy, unmovable, unbearable. You cannot breathe through your sobs; you cannot see, cannot speak. You curl up on a seat and wish you were dead. All your life you have been compelled by a blind belief that there are better places even if you cannot imagine them, that sometimes when it feels like the world is ending the only way out is through. For the very first time, you want to give up. You want to let all the poisons of this earth seep into your bloodstream until they stop your pulse and everything goes quiet, quiet, quiet.

Aemond is pouring bottles of water over you so he can wash away the blood and sand and gore. He is searching your skin for bitemarks. People are climbing into the Tahoe and a key turns in the ignition. The wheels are spinning; shadows fall over your face through the windows as you sail beneath overpasses. You hear voices but not words. You feel Aemond’s hands on you and do not flinch away.

Someone is putting pills in your mouth and telling you to swallow. “What is it?” you ask.

“Tramadol,” Aegon says. “It will take you somewhere else.”

And it does, this poison he doesn’t know you are starving for; it erases the future and the past until you don’t exist, you never have, and this is a relief.

~~~~~~~~~~

Glimpses through fogged vision, disjointed flashes like dreams: Aemond cleaning and suturing Cregan’s arm, Helaena’s fingers threading through Ice’s shaggy grey fur, smoke from smoldering Marlboro Golds billowing from Aegon’s lips and out through an open window, coyotes watching the Tahoe pass from the shoulder of the highway, mountains and barbed wire, clouds and useless power lines, land that turns from flat and vast and vacant to steep hills thick with pine trees, so many they block out the sun.

You are dimly aware that the Tahoe is stopping frequently, long lulls to hunt for gasoline in small towns, one gallon here, three gallons there, discussions over which routes to take as Aegon scrutinizes his map. Aemond is always with you, coaxing you to take sips of Gatorade and nibbles of Ritz crackers, feeding you spoonfuls of chicken noodle soup straight from the can, and each night when you fall into numb unconsciousness in a dead stranger’s bed he sleeps on the floor in case you need him, and eventually you do. You jolt awake from a nightmare, not death but cursed immortality, a bite he missed somehow that turned you into a monster, into a murderer, your raw skin and muscles sloughing off your bones.

“You’re fine, you’re fine, look at your hands,” Aemond says, taking your wrists and holding them gently. “No bites. You’re going to be okay, I promise. Hey, hey…” He cradles your face, he pleads for you to believe him. “I swear to God, you’re going to be okay.”

“It should have been me,” you whisper in the red glow of the candlelight. “I don’t have a family that would miss me if I was gone.”

“Yes you do,” Aemond says fiercely; and it takes your drugged, horrorstruck mind a moment to realize who he means.

The next day the Tahoe runs out of gas, and you know this because Aemond wakes you with a palm resting lightly on your forehead and an apology sighed through your hair. “What’s wrong?” you murmur.

“We have to get out and walk for a while. Can you do that?”

You force yourself to sit up, blinking at him. “Where are we?”

“Kingvale, California. In the Sierra Nevada Mountains.”

“We’re going to the beach house,” you realize.

“Yeah,” Aemond says, smiling a little. “Yeah, we are. We’re going home.”

On Donner Pass Road, following in the centuries-old footsteps of doomed westward migrants, someone always walks with you as you shuffle along in a daze. Aemond tells you about California, Rhaena reads aloud from Mockingjay, Ice licks your knuckles, Aegon talks endlessly about golf and yachting even when you can’t respond. His burned leg is still bandaged, but healing, and he’s found a Converse sneaker a few sizes too big to wear on his left foot; Aemond treats and wraps his wounds each morning and night, and Rhaena observes and takes notes so she can learn how to do it.

One afternoon just north of Beale Air Force Base, Daeron sneaks a Marlboro Gold out of Aegon’s backpack when no one is watching and lights it as he lingers in the back of the group. Aegon smells the smoke immediately and whirls, runs to him, snatches the cigarette from between Daeron’s lips and stomps it into the pavement.

“You’re not going to be like me!” Aegon shouts at him in the middle of the road. “Goddammit, you’re going to be safe, and you’re going to be happy, and you’re going to know that people care about you because I’ll break your fucking arm if I ever see you smoking again. You don’t get to poison yourself. You’re going to live to be a hundred years old. Got it?”

“Got it,” Daeron echoes, startled, petrified; and then Aegon hugs him, hanging on for a very long time.

~~~~~~~~~~

It is midnight in Meridian, a miniscule town founded in the 1850s on the banks of the Sacramento River, a relic from a time when travel meant ferries and railroads and wagon trains. Here, well outside the state capital, there are no sounds except the breeze through the trees—blue oaks, sycamores, willows, white alders—and the hoots of owls. The house is old, built in the 1950s or 60s, creaking steps and a screened-in front porch where Cregan and Daeron are playing Uno while keeping watch. The moon is new and invisible. The stars are bright.

Aemond appears in the doorway of your room. You are on the edge of the bed and staring at the wallpaper, flickering candlelight and scenes of galloping horses. Aemond is not letting you have any more Tramadol. He’s also not letting anyone load your Beretta, although you saw a box of 9mm bullets in Helaena’s burlap messenger bag. Maybe he’s worried you’ll try to shoot yourself. Maybe he’s not too far off.

He closes the door, crosses the room, and sits down on the bed beside you. In the firelit quiet, Aemond says: “I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to help you.”

“I can’t stay here. Take me somewhere else.”

At first, he doesn’t understand what you mean. Then you reach for him—for a life raft, for something to tether you to the earth—and the lines of your palm press against his scar, flesh he stitched back together himself, proof he can heal people, a reminder of how temporary any of you could be. Aemond lays his hand over yours and closes his eye, holding you there against his face, feeling your warmth and your forgiveness, your need to be close to him in a way that is suddenly so uncomplicated. There is no fear left in you. Perhaps there’s nothing left at all.

Aemond kisses you, and there are blooms of golden light through your darkness like what you call lightning bugs and he says are fireflies. You are entangled on the bed together, and all the sounds still ricocheting in your memory—screams, gunshots, bloodlust, hunger, anarchy—fade until they cease to exist. He is touching you, and you can feel lost pieces of yourself returning to you like rain soaking through parched earth, faith and resolve and desire. And now, and now…

Now Aemond is taking you far, far, far away, to bottomless blue water you can drown in, to where Diego Garcia lies marooned in the middle of the Indian Ocean, to the sun-glinting waves off the coasts of Chinhae, Corpus Christi, Key West, the Horn of Africa. He is between your thighs, and you want him through the pain, a razor-sharp fullness that seems so immaterial and so fleeting; and you lie to him over and over again because if he knows he’s hurting you he’ll stop, and in this world one cannot assume there will be second chances. Aemond stills once he’s inside you, giving you time to adjust but also overwhelmed by the intensity of it, his hands in your hair and trembling all over, kissing your face as the pain bleeds away and leaves a shade of craving you’ve never felt before, something deep and indistinct, something intangible like a spell or a myth. You move first, rolling your hips with a slow, cautious rhythm, and only then does Aemond follow you. It’s in his voice, in the reverence of his hands, in his iris like a clear secretless sky; you have taken him far away too.

“I love you,” Aemond says afterwards as his head rests on your belly, your fingers tangled in his damp hair and your skull hushed like calm seas. “And I can’t pretend I don’t anymore.”

“Good. I wouldn’t want you to.”

And in the morning, there is something different about the world: a hopefulness that makes you want to wake up, a radiance like moonlight on the wave crests of the Indian Ocean.

[thatlittlered]

time warp | aaron hotchner

warning(s): none, just hotch being delicious

GIF by @katebeckets

part one

author's note: I have never updated a story this fast in my life. Another part is coming tomorrow.

Follow me @MadeofLilies on Ao3 and let me know if you want to be tagged here.

-.-.-

The door to his office is open, chatter from the bullpen reaching him when you all get too loud. He can tell Morgan is pestering you about something and the others have gathered around to listen.

“You only have one watch?”

“How many watches do other people have? You act like it’s insane.”

Spencer, like always, feels the need to interject, “I have three.”

You sigh, abandoning your pen and notes.

“I have another one but that’s my grandmother’s, I can’t wear it to work.”

Derek is not satisfied with your answer.

“You have a thousand pieces of jewelry.”

“I know!”

“You are wearing most of them right now.”

“I know, Morgan, you can stop bullying me now.” You pout at him and he pouts back, but his grin is indicator enough that he’s not even close to finished with you.

“Where do you even spend your paychecks, sweetheart?”

“Important stuff. Like shoes.”

“I only have one pair of shoes aside of my trainers.”

Emily laughs, “Yeah, we know that, Spence. Their time is coming to an end, by the way.”

Morgan zeroes in on you again, poking a finger into your knee to get a reaction.

“How many pairs of shoes do you have exactly? Fifteen? Twenty?”

“They were twenty… at some point.”

Triumph.

You almost can’t stand his shit-eating grin.

“There you go. Too bad you don’t get to wear them here.”

“Where do you spend yours? A lifetime’s supply of V-necks at GAP?”

You stand up from your chair, eager to get away from this conversation.

“You’re only mean to me because you know I’ll love you anyway.”  

“Maybe.”

He puts his hand over his heart in feign hurt. Garcia mutters something about a woman’s right to shoes in your defense and you kiss her cheek to thank her on your way to the kitchenette. Aaron still watches from his seat and squirms uncomfortably when he sees Morgan follow you.

You take his mug and pour you both some coffee while he takes a seat, thanking you. You don’t even see Hotch come in.

“Did your watch get lost?”

You almost spill your coffee at the baritone of his voice. Everything he says comes out so official, so professional, as if speaking orders, but not at that beach under the sunrise. Who was he then?

“Yes, it did. Totally on its own and not because I keep leaving my stuff in random places and not looking after them properly.”

“Maybe that’s why you spend so much on stuff, if you keep losing them.”

You quirk a brow at Derek, leaning over him menacingly from your position.

“I swear to God, Morgan, this might be the day you officially lose my affection.”

He takes the cup you’ve poured for him from your hand and slowly walks backwards in resignation.

“No, please, I didn’t mean it.”

You smile at each other and you point a finger at him. Hotch watches with a frown.

“Tread lightly.”

When Morgan’s gone, he can finally step closer to you. Getting to the coffee machine is only the excuse.

“You know, you’re really good at keeping him in check. Maybe you should be in charge here.”

You smile into your cup, “That’s alright, we already have a boss and he’s okay.”

“Oh, is he? Good to know, I can’t wait to have that all over my evaluation files next year.”

You nod. The fabric of his suit jacket brushes against your arm while he pours.

“Some might even use the words ‘pretty good’.”

He hums, “So eloquent.”

Your smile deepens, nose wrinkling upwards in a way that now really can’t be hidden in your cup.

-.-.-

It’s almost time for everyone to head home and for once, he’s trying really hard to make it out of the office before sundown; maybe spend some quality time with Jack.

There’s a knock on his door before it opens and he’s about to send whoever it is away but-

“Hi, sorry, am I interrupting?”

He looks up, uncharacteristically disoriented.

“Uh, no-no, come in.”

“Are you coming to Rossi’s tonight?”

He’s dumbfounded.

“I’m not really sure yet, I have some errands to run when I’m done here.”

“Oh, okay… I just found some old Marvel comics and I thought Jack might like to have them, but I didn’t bring them with me. Maybe I could give them to you tonight? That is, if you make it.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Do you mind?”

“No, of course not, I just-”, he exhales, “I’ll be there.”

You smile and nod, ready to leave.

“Maybe I could give you a ride and you can give them to me then. I mean,” his thumb scratches his bottom lip uncomfortably, “your place is practically on the way.”

“Have you ever been to my place?”

Aaron laughs awkwardly, “No.”

“But you seem to know what you’re talking about, so I’m going to put my faith in you. Pick me up at seven?”

“That works.”

-.-.-

It’s not even half past six when he rings your doorbell and you open the door still clad in pjs.

“You are so early.”

Hotch suddenly looks so small for such a usually imposing man. He stands in your doorway with nervous hands in his pockets and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him act like this before.

“I’m sorry, I can wait in the car if you’d like.”

“No, it’s okay, come in. I think I knew deep down that you would be; just not by this much.”

 He clears his throat and moves inside to now stand awkwardly at the apartment’s entrance, “I’m sorry, I started way too early from my house. Overestimated how long it would take to get here.”

Your interactions do something to warp his sense of time.

“That’s okay, Aaron, really. You’re just going to have to give me a few minutes because I haven’t had the time to get ready yet.”

He watches, frozen in his place, while you walk towards the kitchen.

“Do you need anything? Coffee, orange juice?”

He almost smiles to himself. He just knew you’d be the type of person to always keep the fridge fully stocked even if you’re barely ever home. He likes the confirmation that he knows you, despite his inability to really make conversation and establish familiarity. He grasps at straws; little pieces of you that he sometimes finds and keeps them close to his heart.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

You still bring him a glass of water, freezing cold, just like he likes it, and rest it on the coffee table.

“You can sit, if you want.”

“Right.”

He smiles and sits almost robotically. When he picks up the glass, he softly wipes the ring of water that’s formed underneath with his hand but you don’t see it.

“Let me just grab the box.”

“It’s a whole box?”

“Yeah, I got it at a yard sale.”

“You bought it? You really didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, now that him and I are officially friends I have to do something to maintain the relationship, seeing how I never actually get to see him.” You sit beside him while he looks through the various issues. There have to be at least fifteen in here.

“Yeah, neither do I,” he really appreciates the comforting hand on his shoulder, “This was very nice of you to do, thank you.”

You smile and nod at him.

“Actually, I also have something I wanted to give you; I just need to get it from the car.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, give me a moment, will you?”

He’s out and back in a second. Practically runs back into your apartment when you open the door; a small gift bag in hand.

“I would have brought in with me, but I chickened out at the last minute.”

His fingers linger when he hands it to you. It’s almost a caress in passing.

“You got me something?”

It’s a digital watch, neatly sat on soft velvet.

Was that the errand he had to run?

“Oh, Hotch, thank you so much, but you really shouldn’t have. I know I joked around today, but I would have actually gotten around to getting one. I am not that financially irresponsible.”

“It’s nothing really, it’s not an expensive watch.”

“Oh, okay, as long as it’s the cheap, trashy stuff. Phew.”

He laughs and you realize you’re both standing in your doorway again.

“I just wanted to do something nice.”

“You’re nice to me all the time.”

His brows furrow, “It doesn’t feel like I am.”

“It must come easy then.”

“It does with you.”

He meets your gaze and you stay there for a while.

“Can you help me try it on?”

“Of course.”

He clasps it high on your wrist, just like he’s seen you wear the previous one. The color matches your jewelry and it’s excruciatingly sweet just how much attention he pays to details.

“I just wanted to thank you, I suppose, for the other day. It meant a lot to me.”

Aaron’s hand doesn’t leave your arm, instead wraps gently around it instead, as if one of your bracelets.

“It meant a lot to me too.”

His breathing is heavy, his voice barely a whisper. What you are doing feels like a secret; like it’s meant to be hidden from the rest of the world.

“I’m not sure you mean that in the same way that I do.”

Your other hand comes to rest on top of his, thumb passing softly over protruding veins and scars. He thinks, for a moment, it might wipe them away.

“Then you’re not the people expert that you think you are.”

His laugh is heartbreaking.

“Guess I’m not very good at that either.”

You hum, “You’re okay.”

Neither of you is moving but it feels like you’re getting closer.

“So eloquent again.”

You can’t help but beam with pride at how comfortable he’s getting with your banter. A whole world unlocked and open for you to see. His body is drawn to you, almost folds over and around you to be closer. As close as he can possibly get without touching you more.

“It’s the worst moment possible now, when you’ve just given me a gift and picked me up from my place, but I think it deserves to be said that I would very much like to be kissed by you.”

His eyes flutter close.

“It really is the worst moment possible,” his hand slides slowly from your wrist to elbow, taking in the feeling of bare skin, “but I would very much like to kiss you.”

“But you won’t.”

His hand stops traveling up your arm, drops back onto your wrist and without really meaning to, pulls you closer.

“No.”

You stay like this for a while. Nothing but soft breathing to be heard in the room.

“I should probably go.”

You look up in surprise, “Are you not coming with me?”

“I’m sorry, I just…” he touches the inside of your palm and traces the lines as if to remember them, “I wouldn't know what to say or do after this.”

You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“It’s alright, I understand… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The loss of his touch is like a sudden drop in the temperature around you. You both feel it.

He doesn’t meet your gaze again, simply gathers the box and clears his throat as if that will magically return him to what he’s used to being.

“Yeah. Tomorrow.”

You see him press his lips together before he turns to leave.

When you get to Rossi’s, the team is disappointed to know he’s not coming after all, but they’re not surprised. JJ asks you about the new watch and you lie. You can tell Emily is not convinced but she doesn’t say anything about it, merely smiles at you and inches closer with her chair.

Aaron spends another night alone. Jack is at a sleepover with a friend that he didn’t have the heart to pick him up from all of the sudden.

That’s the cost of being a stone, he supposes.

part three

[borathae]

Sext

↳ Full Art

"Because Taehyung is currently on a business trip, you and he haven't been able to be intimate in weeks. Plagued by unbearable desire, you ask him to send you something sexy. Luckily for you, your husband is an obedient good boy with an amazing artistic sense."

Pairing: CEO!Taehyung x CEO!Reader

Genre: Smut, married life!AU

Warnings: sub!Taehyung, Dom!Reader, sexting, sending of a dick pic, kinda public sex at first because he touches himself on a balcony, phone sex, guided masturbation, mutual masturbation, lots of dirty talk, praise, good boy!kink, she uses a vibrator on herself, he uses his hands, she tells him to cum on his own briefs, he is so whiney and needy for her, guided aftercare, they're lowkey so kinky with each other

Wordcount: 4.2k

a/n: i decided to write something for the ihyily!couple again hohoho enjoy besties, this is very horny 💚 i hope you guys are enjoying my stories lately, feedback's been kinda little for all of them so i can't really tell. also big shoutout to all the lovely people who do leave feedback, i see you and love you!!! either way, enjoy my besties hehe

You are on your back, stretching your limbs from you in the middle of your king sized bed and with your eyes glued to the sky light on your ceiling. On normal nights, you would already be fast asleep by now, but because you haven’t been with your husband in a week, you aren’t. 

The bed is too big without him. 

You miss him so much. You miss his cuddles and his kisses and his voice and his scent and his smiles and his jokes and his hugs and his everything. You huff out air in frustration. Yes, you miss his everything. 

You roll your head to the side, flipping your phone to check the time on your clock app. When one of you is on a business trip in another time zone, you always put in the zone on your apps to see what time the other is currently experiencing. 

Taehyung must currently experience early evening hours. The beginning of sundowns, the sound of people driving home from work, the scent of dinner in the air. You want to be with him. Listen to Paris get ready for sleep, eat dinner on the balcony, drink wine and play with him.

You falter for a moment. There it is again. That heavy lump in your stomach. That heavy, hot lump of build up frustration. It has been bothering you ever since the morning, making it difficult to work. If Taehyung was home, he would have already helped you take care of it. You miss him so much. In more ways than one.

Before Taehyung left for his business trip to Paris, you and he weren’t able to have goodbye sex because you were on your period and felt too shitty to be horny. You aren’t on your period anymore and you are paying the price. You keep thinking back to the last night with him where you cuddled instead of fucked. If you could turn back time, you would take him so many times in so many ways that he forgets his own name. 

Your eyes gaze at your home screen. A family pictures of you, Taehyung and your daughter. Nope. You need other pictures, now is Not the time for family pictures. You need to see him and only him. In the kind of ways only you get to see him. You open your pictures and the folder you titled “my stinker”. It contains pictures solely of Taehyung. Be it random candid pics, posed pictures or all the selcas he sends you. There are too many of them and you are currently getting lost in them. 

He is so handsome and cute and pretty and sexy and handsome and, and, and. 

You huff out air. You want to bite his cheek and feel him up, but you can’t. It’s fucking unfair. 

Missing him unbearably, you open your messages next. Your text is typed within seconds.

-          You: do you have time?

Taehyung’s answer comes moments later.

-          My handsome ♡: I do, but why are you still up? 

It is currently one in the morning where you are. You normally fall asleep at eleven, sometimes even ten because being a working CEO and mother is exhausting even with such a supportive and involved husband as Taehyung by your side.

-          You: i can’t sleep ㅠㅠ

-          My handsome ♡: NOOOO why?

-          You: I miss you ㅠㅠ and I’m lowkey horny

-          My handsome ♡: 😪😪 

-          My handsome ♡: I understand your pain

-          My handsome ♡: 😪😪

You wiggle your toes in excitement.

-          You: are you horny too?

-          My handsome ♡: 😂😂 No, I meant that I miss you too 😂😂😂

You huff out air, feeling slightly hot in embarrassment.

-          You: sorry, I misunderstood ✊🏻😔

-          My handsome ♡: 😂😂 It’s fine ♡♡♡ 

-          My handsome ♡: I’m getting horny now that you mentioned it ;)

You feel hot in excitement. He is willing to play into it. God, you are tingling like crazy between your legs.

-          You: are you?

-          My handsome ♡: ;) yes ;)

-          You: fuck baby…

You put the phone aside for a moment to get a toy and some lube. 

You prop yourself up on your backrest and work yourself up with just two fingers first. You get to play with him. The aspect is turning you on to the point where typing becomes difficult to do with one hand.

-          You: I got a toy…

-          My handsome ♡: omg 🥵 are you using it? 

-          You: soon…working myself up

-          My handsome ♡: You’re so hot 🥵😭🥵

-          You: fuck Tae 🥵 where are you?

-          My handsome ♡: Hotel balcony. I’ve got the sun setting and a glass of wine by my side. I’m wearing your favourite sweater ;)

-          You: the green one?

-          My handsome ♡: Yes ;););)

-          You: 🥵🥵 you are seducing me

-          My Handsome ♡: 😂 only you can get horny over a jumper

-          You: Don’t judge me, you look hot in it

You take a few deep breaths. Your touch feels good. Knowing that he is sharing this moment with you really excites you. You crave something again.

-          You: Fuck Tae, send me something sexy please 👉👈

-          My handsome ♡: Something sexy? Like this?

A selfie of him arrives next. He is looking into the camera with half-lidded eyes and his lower lip between his teeth. The golden light of the setting sun gives his hair and skin such a sexy glow to them. On the lower corner of the picture, glimpses of his green sweater are visible.

You bite your lower lip and let out a frustrated whimper. You want to crawl through your phone and eat his entire face. He is so fucking handsome.

You type your answer with shaky fingers.

-          You: I wanna tell you the nastiest things right now…

-          My handsome ♡: don’t hold back ;)

-          You: I wanna fucking sit on your face and ride it till I cream it…I’m touching myself right now, but all I want is your tongue on me…

- You: If you’d be here right now, I’d use your pretty nose as my toy and mark it as mine. Fuck Tae, you’re so sexy…

Taehyung types for a while. Knowing him, your answer surprised him despite your initial warning. He is a little shy cutie after all. You stay online until he finally answers you.

-          My handsome ♡: omg…

You smile, feeling your stomach tingle. All this time of typing and his flustered brain came up with “omg”. If you didn’t need him before, you need him like crazy starting now. Your fingers speed up between your legs. He is so sexy.

-          My handsome ♡: This just made me hard omg…

-          You: Show me fuckk I need to see

You are panting as you wait for the picture. Taehyung went offline, which means he is taking it with his phone camera. He will probably take a while because he is very particular about the kind of nudes he sends you. You have a folder of them on your phone, hidden behind a passcode only you know. He also never sends you nudes without getting asked or warning you, which makes them so much sexier. You can’t wait to see how he is going to show you his pretty cock.

The picture arrives with one singular emoji under it.

-          My handsome: 🥺

It taunts you. Of course he is acting like that when he literally just sent you his dick. You download the picture, opening it with bated breath. One you release in a moan once the view presents itself to your eyes.

He is pulling his beige pants down, exposing his shaft and pubes. His hand is in the picture, his green sweater is as well. The picture is clearly taken outside, judging by the warm, sunset-esque colours. He took it on his balcony.

You try to text him, but then get too needy to do so. You send him a picture back. Two of your fingers buried deep inside you. You are all wet and puffy, presenting yourself for his viewing pleasure. He sees it and goes offline instantly.

A second later your phone rings. It’s him.

You pick up without hesitation.

“Hey there”, you try to sound nonchalant, but your voice is just slightly raspy from arousal.

Taehyung is panting. You know that he is struggling with his words because of you.

“Tae?”

“Can I touch myself, please?” he croaks, sending jolts of excitement through you. He is such a good boy asking for permission like that.

“You wanna touch yourself?”

“Yes. Oh god, you’re so sexy”, he groans.

“Mhm…you’re sexier”, you purr and turn on the toy. You hold it close to the phone so Taehyung can hear.

His breathing speeds up. His chair creaks in the background as he clearly shifts in it.

“Please”, he begs quietly.

“Soon. Listen to me push it inside, yeah?”

“Yes, Madam. Oh god, you’re so sexy, I’m going insane.”

You drag the toy through your folds twice then finally thrust it into you, moaning loudly as it fills you up. Taehyung moans with you, turning you on like crazy.

“Tae…baby…I’m so wet, fuck…it fills me up so good…”

“Can, can I touch myself now?”

“Not yet, be patient.”

Taehyung whines, motivating you to move the toy inside you. God, you love when he is needy for you.

“Mhm Tae… I’m fucking myself with it. Almost feels like you.”

“Oh god, I’m so hard”, he whines, “please can I at least take it out?”

“Are you outside?”

“I am”, he has his sexy voice on. God, you want him so bad. 

“And you still wanna take it out?”

“Yes please, hurts so bad.”

“Poor boy.”

Taehyung whines, breathing shakily afterwards. You take out the toy and thrust it back inside, giving him a delicious moan. You know for a fact that he can hear the vibrations and how wet you are around the silicon shaft.

“Please Madam…” he begs with an obvious pout on his lips.

“How much do you want it?”

“So much. I miss you, please I’m horny too.”

“I love it when you talk like this. Fine, take it out.”

Taehyung thanks you in a breathy moan, lifting his hips so he could pulls his pants over his butt. He lets it punch up under his balls, wrapping his long fingers around his cock. It glows prettily in the sunset light, begging to be touched.

“Now listen to me, okay?”

“Yes, Madam.”

“Are you holding it right now?”

“Yes.”

“Feel up your shaft for me, but leave out your tip.”

Taehyung follows your orders, guiding his fist around his length. It feels good, but leaves him desperate. His tip is his favourite spot, it’s so sensitive and reactive. Having to leave it out feels like torture. He breathes heavily into the phone, giving you little whimpers each time his fingers have to stop right under his frenulum.

“For how long do I have to do that?” he asks hopefully.

“Until I tell you otherwise”, you dismiss him and bury the toy deeper, “fuck Tae seriously, this toy feels fucking amazing. It’s hitting the right spots.”

“Oh god.” He ogles his own cock and his fingers right under his tip. Maybe if he controls his voice well enough, you won’t find out that he is touching his tip. His fingers itch in the desire to disobey. One little movement… just one….

“You feel better tough, fuck I’m thinking about you and how you fuck me. You’re always such a good boy for me, Tae sweetie.”

Taehyung moans, moving his hand away from his tip as quickly as possible. What was he thinking? He doesn’t misbehave, he is your good boy. He bites down on his lower lip and keeps his touch focused on nothing but his shaft despite how leaky his tip gets because of it.

“Are you my good boy, Tae sweetie?”

“Yes, Madam. I’m your good boy”, he keens, nodding his head vigorously.

“Of course you are…are you wet for me?”

Taehyung looks at his tip. It is flushed red with pearls of excitement leaking from his slit. If you were here right now, you’d play with it or lick it off of him. Taehyung rolls his head back slightly at the fantasy, whimpering his answer.

“I’m wet for you.”

“You are…” You increase the vibrations, opening your legs further. “Take some of it and taste it for me.”

Taehyung obeys your orders, letting you listen to him as he licks his finger. He moans softly as he does it, acting slobbier than he needs to just so you have something good to listen to. Your breathing speeds up, your heart races. It sounds as if he is between your legs sucking and licking your clit.

“Does it taste sweet, baby?” you ask him shakily.

“Yeah, sweet”, he purrs, flicking his tongue against his own thumb.

“Fuck Tae, do it again.”

Taehyung obeys, licking and sucking on his fingers as if he was feasting on your pussy. You talked about sitting on his face and creaming his tongue and he is hellbent on making the fantasy as real as possible.

“It tastes so good, Madam”, he lulls.

“I wanna fucking sit on you, fuck.”

The desperation in your voice makes him tingle. He is needy too, but you sound feral. If he wasn’t such a good boy for you, he’d tell you a bratty little comment about your state. But instead of teasing you, he begs again.

“Can I touch my tip now, please?”

“Yes, fuck, yes.”

Taehyung acts instantly, wrapping his fingers tightly around his cockhead to pump it. He moans loudly, rolling his head back and closing his eyes.

“Thank you, ah…feels so good…”

“Slow down.”

His obedience comes before his mind can even register what his hand was doing. He slows down, keeping the movements as minimal as possible. The whimper he lets out makes you speed up in return.

“It’s so slow…”

“I know baby, I know. Keep it like this until I tell you otherwise.”

“It’s hard, mhhmmm.”

“Be my good boy, baby. I know you wanna be my good boy.”

“Yeah..good boy…”

You smile in bliss. He is so perfect. Even now that he is so desperate, he still listens. You could probably tell him to stop and put his cock back into his pants and he would listen. Your stomach tingles. What a good idea actually.

“Tae sweetie?”

“Yes, Madam”, he gets out between his heavy breaths.

“Stop touching yourself and put your pants back on.”

“What?” he sounds devastated.

“Go on, you heard me.”

“Why? Please…”

“By my good boy, baby.”

You hear him whimper in frustration followed by agonized sounds of him having to stuff his raging boner back into his pants. You throb around the toy at the aspect. He is such an obedient boy for you. It’s difficult to hold back on your orgasm when he is acting like that.

“I did it. I don’t know why you made me do that, but I did it”, he tells you with the biggest pout ever.

“Send me a pic.”

“Wait”, he is still clearly pouting.

Moments later your phone vibrates. You put him on speaker and open the picture he sent. He actually put his pants back on. The light material stretches around his boner, barely wanting to keep it in. A dark spot has appeared on the fabric where his tip can’t stop leaking.

You laugh.

“Why are you laughing?” he sounds distressed.

“Oh it’s nothing, I’m just laughing ‘cause you actually did it.”

“You told me to”, he is almost sassy in the way he talks back. Sassy but also very frustrated.

“Mhm I did. I was just messing with you.”

“___”, he gasps, making you laugh and moan at the same time.

“Okay, okay fuck stop whining, it’s making me cum.”

“No, you’re so mean. It hurts to have it inside”, he continues whining.

“Fuck Tae, keep talking and I’m gonna cum.”

“I, I…really?” he whimpers.

“Yes, fuck”, you pull the toy out, groaning in agony, “fuck that was so close.”

He takes a deep breath, squeaking as he breathes out.

“Please can I touch myself again? Please?”

“Go inside first.”

“Why do you wanna tease me today?”

“Just feeling like it.”

“Oh god.”

Taehyung keeps the balcony door open, now standing in his hotel bedroom with a hard-on in his pants and his head dizzy in need.

“I’m inside. Please can I touch myself now?”

“Get naked first.”

He puts the phone on speaker and starts undressing. He is in the midst of sliding off his sweater when you stop him.

“Keep the sweater on. I’ll ask for a picture of proof.”

“I’m already naked then.”

“Yes? Good boy. Send me a picture of your cock, keep the sweater in the angle.”

Taehyung obeys your orders, using the sound of your heavy breathing and little moans as motivation. The picture he takes is definitely not his most artistic masterpiece. It is a little blurry because he can’t stop his hands from shaking. Your loud reaction is satisfactory enough however.

“Fuck, look at you. I wanna sit on it. God, wanna fucking choke on it and make it squirt.”

Taehyung feels weak in the knees. It aches not to touch himself.

“Does this mean I can touch myself again? Please? Maybe? Please, please?”

“Soon. Put your briefs on the bed and do it over them, okay?”

He obeys your orders even if he is confused. He lays out his briefs and begins pumping his cock above them.

“I’m doing it, Madam”, he moans, feeling blurry. His touch is electric, his cock so sensitive.

“Good boy. Keep touching yourself. I want you to cum on them and then mail them to me.”

His knees buckle. He has to use the mattress to catch himself and push his own faltering body back into a standing position. He leaks heavy droplets of pleasure, feeling his pulse throb in his cock.

“What?” he squeaks.

“You heard me. Repeat it to me.”

“You want me to.” He gasps and whimpers. “Want me to cum on them and.” He keens your name. “And mail them to you.”

“That’s right.”

“Madam, this is getting me close.”

“I know it is. Don’t stop. Focus your touch on your tip.”

“I am”, he whines.

“Good boy. Keep telling me how close this is getting you.”

“It won’t take long.”

“Good boy, keep going.”

The line fills with your shared moans. He is so loud and breathy while you answer him in purrs and drawn-out moans. You both have your eyes closed, minds racing with images of shared moments together. If you concentrate hard enough, it almost feels as if you were fucking each other right now. As if Taehyung was pumping his cock deep into you, hitting the best spots over and over again.

“Fuck Tae, keep going baby. So good”, you moan, arching your back.

“Can I move my hips please?”

“Whatever you need baby, just keep moaning for me.”

Taehyung chases the pleasure instantly, fucking his own fist as if he was fucking you. He moans louder for you, feeling his sense of reality blur.

“You’re so tight tonight”, he gets out.

“I am?”

“Yeah, so tight. Ah!”

“Just for you baby, my good boy”, you moan, meeting his movements with needy rolls of your hips. Not that he is actually with you, but it feels like it.

You and he are so far gone in the fanatsy, the distance is no longer there. It’s just you and him. 

“Love fucking you, baby. Love it so much…aahmmm….”

“Madam…ah…love it too…”

It is Taehyung who breaks the fantasy first. His instincts told him to open his eyes and look at you and so he did only to be met with an empty bed and his hand around his own cock.

“I miss you”, he whimpers.

You open your eyes to his flushed face only to be met with the ceiling instead. Your stomach tightens.

“I miss you too”, you get out, “Tae, it felt like you were there.”

“For me too”, he confesses, “I’m really close, just letting you know.”

You laugh breathily, “fuck, you’re so good. Such a good boy. Tell me three things you love about yourself and maybe I’ll let you cum.”

“My, my eyes and my hands and my…my nose.”

“Cause I can grind on it?”

“Yeah”, he whimpers, nodding his head vigorously.

“Shit, so hot. Where are you touching yourself right now?”

“My tip. It’s so wet, Madam.”

“So sexy, fuck. Keep talking to me.”

“My, my cock is so flushed. I’m so red at the tip.”

“Fuck, so hot. Ah Tae”, you moan, rolling your eyes back in delight as you bury the toy as deep as possible to draw circles with it. Your voice pitches, only coming out as gasps.

Taehyung speeds up his hand, furrowing his brows at the perfect sounds you let out.

“Are you feeling good, Madam?”

“Yeah…so good…hitting the right spot.”

He exhales shakily, moaning deeply.

“I’m leaking on my briefs, Madam.”

“Shit. Tae. Woah fu-fuck.”

“Close?”

“Really.”

“It’s all over my fingers too. They’re so wet and sticky, Madam.”

“Tae. Baby”, you whimper, tightening around the toy.

“I can’t stop leaking, Madam”, he mewls for you, jerking his cock loud enough that you can hear the wet mess he makes.

“I’m cumming”, you get out and feel the knot burst. All you can gasp is his name, body shaking out of control as your high takes over.

Taehyung moans with you, scrunching his face in agony from holding back. He wants to cum with you, but knows that you never gave him permission to do. So he is left moaning prettily for you and listening to you floating on absolute bliss.

You come down with curses and shaky gasps for air, ending it with a disbelieved “damn”.

“Fuck, can I cum? Please?” Taehyung begs, feeling delirious in frustration. He genuinely can’t do this for long anymore.

“Cum for me, baby.”

“Yes. oh god yes. Madam, yes. ___, yes, yes, yes”, he chants and breaks with one last squeak of your name, emptying his heavy balls all over his briefs. He twitches and shakes, throwing his head back as your name repeatedly leaves him.

“Good boy. Cum for me. Good boy”, you talk him through it, tingling in your afterglow. Listening to his orgasm is truly the best way to calm down after your own intense high.

“I’m done. Can, can I stop?” he soon begs, sounding stressed. You know that his sensitive cock is burning in overstimulation.

If he wasn’t such a good boy tonight, you would have told him to keep going.

“If you have to. You were such a good boy tonight, you can choose yourself.”

“I’m stopping. Sensitive”, he says and the wet squelching stops. He breathes out shakily, mumbling a ruined, “holy fuck.”

“Mhm, liked it?”

“Yeah, liked it.”

“Did you cum on your briefs?”

“Yes, Madam.”

“Good boy”, you praise and sigh in contentment, “lie down for me, sweetheart.”

He obeys, letting his head sink into the pillow. He takes one of them and hugs it to his chest. He purrs happily.

“Comfortable?”

“Yeah, just missing you.”

“I miss you too.” You sit up to discard the toy and clean yourself. “Do you have a tissue by hand?”

“Yeah, by the nightstand.”

“Clean yourself for me.”

He obeys, giggling quietly.

“I’m sensitive.”

“Be careful, yeah?” you chuckle fondly.

“Yes, Madam. Oh god, I’m so giddy. You fucked me so good.”

“I feel giddy too. You were such a good boy for me.”

Taehyung giggles, snuggling back into the pillows and kicking his feet giddily. He loves being your good boy.

“Do you actually want me to mail you my briefs?”

You laugh, “I think I was just being unhinged there. I feel like it would start to smell funny before it can get here.”

“Right”, he agrees, laughing with you, “oh god”, he exhales, “this was actually so sexy. I’m still dizzy.”

“I’m glad you liked it. I was kinda feeling myself.”

“I was feeling you too. You’re such a good talker.”

You wiggle your toes in giddiness, feeling really good inside. He always knows what the say to make you feel like the sexiest Dom ever.

“God, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You and he smile, hugging the pillows you are holding closer. If you concentrate hard enough, it almost feels as if you are hugging each other.

“Mhm, I’m so comfy. This is exactly what I needed.”

“Me too. I was thinking about you before you texted me. It’s been a week since I left and I kept thinking about our last night together.”

Your heart flutters. You and he are so similar.

“You did?”

“Yeah.”

“Tae, I regret not fucking you that night.”

“God, don’t say that”, he says, having to giggle.

You smile, “you’re cute.” A yawn interrupts you.

“Are you tired?” he asks.

“Mhm, yeah.” Another yawn. “I know it’s not really night at your place yet, but can you stay with me as I fall asleep?” you ask him.

“Of course, my sweetheart. Can I tell you about my day?”

“Please tell me. I wanna know everything, my sweetheart. I might doze off in the midst of it though.”

Taehyung laughs, “that’s okay. I don’t mind.”

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

Endings and Beginnings - Rooster

Pairing: Rooster / Fem!Reader (Wife!Reader)

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Pregnancy, Second Person POV ("You"), No Physical Description about Reader

This work, all of my other works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.

Summary: It's Maverick's retirement party but Rooster's far more concerned about you, his pregnant wife, than anything else.

A.N. Rooster is retired in this story and it's set a few years after TGM.

Edit: Part 2 is now out!

Master List

Maverick was officially retiring from the Navy. Or finally, depending on who you asked. The Hard Deck had been cleared out for the party and several generations of naval aviators, active and retired, and their families were spread out around the space. Drinks were poured continuously, there was pizza and snacks and even a cake with a Tomcat on it for later.

“Are you sure that you’re okay to be here?” Rooster asked you softly, grabbing your hand.

“I’m fine,” you assured your husband. “Just pregnant.”

“Very pregnant,” Hangman added, causing Rooster to glare over at him. Phoenix whacked Hangman on the arm your behalf, causing the blond to huff and complain. “What? It’s true!”

“I’m fine,” you repeated, squeezing Rooster’s hand. “I’ll sit down if I need to and there’s plenty of water and snacks that I can eat.” You released his hand and nudged him in the direction of Maverick, who was chatting with a few pilots his own age. “Go, mingle. Shoo. It’s a party. Party.”

“Only if you promise to let me know if you need to go home or to the hospital or—”

“—Rooster, I’m fine. The baby isn’t coming for another two weeks. Now, go. I think Mav’s been trying to subtly introduce you for an hour now.”

“Keep an eye on her for me,” Rooster told the others before heading over to Maverick.

The newly retired pilot was all smiles as he chatted with his old friends. But as soon as Maverick spotted Rooster walking over, he quickly moved to pull him over to the older crowd of pilots.

“She finally kicked you over here?” Maverick asked, referring to you.

“Apparently, I’m hovering too much,” Rooster joked with Mav.

“Well, it’s a perfect time to reintroduce yourself to everyone.”

Maverick gestured around the half-circle of former naval aviators. Slider, Hollywood, Wolfman, Chipper, Sundown, Merlin, and Viper all nodded to Rooster and Rooster shook their corresponding hands. It had been a long time since he saw any of them, what with the whole paper incident, but Slider still dragged him in for a noogie like he was eight-years-old.

“So, you were Maverick’s RIO in that whole business?” Merlin asked, referring to the mission.

Even though the mission was still highly classified three years later, the fact that Maverick and Rooster had barely made it out alive wasn’t. Well, that and word got around when an old smashed up Tomcat was unloaded off of a carrier.

“How was that?” Merlin continued.

“Most terrifying experience of my life,” Rooster responded, half-joking, half-serious.

“I understand completely,” Merlin mused, causing Maverick to smile and shake his head.

“That’s not why you turned in your wings, is it though?” Viper asked with a knowing expression.

“No, no,” Rooster replied immediately. “When I got married and my wife and I started to plan for having our family, I decided that I wanted to be there for every step. And I didn’t want her to worry about me coming home at the end of the day. So, I finished up my service requirements and retired.”

And, well, for a kid who lost his father to the Navy, Rooster’s reasoning didn’t raise a single eyebrow. Every naval aviator knew the risks involved in their line of work and while technological advancements helped decrease training accidents and fatalities, they were still always a possibility.

He wouldn’t—couldn’t—let his child learn about him from pictures, like he had to with his own father.

“And Maverick says that you’re switching to commercial?” Wolfman spoke up.

“Yeah, I have one more test to take and then I’m ready to fly, but I probably won’t start until we’re settled with our baby,” Rooster explained, nodding along.

“Your first one?” Viper guessed with an all-knowing smile.

“How could you tell?” Rooster inquired, earning a chuckle from the other fathers in the group.

 “You got that look in your eye.”

“Not too different from the rookies at flight school,” Hollywood added with an amused smile.

“It’ll pass eventually, but the first one always gets you jittery,”  

“Being a father is like learning how to fly—utterly terrifying at first, and there’s definitely a learning curve to it, but once you’re up there and you’ve leveled out, you won’t even remember what it was like before you learned in the first place.”

“I keep telling him to relax. He’ll be a natural,” Maverick spoke up, squeezing Rooster���s shoulder.

Rooster glanced through the crowd to check on you and found you sitting at one of the tables with your feet propped up on the opposite chair. You looked calm, but uncomfortable—though you’d told him that ‘nearly nine months pregnant’ and ‘comfortable’ did not go together no matter the situation.

“But speaking of, I should probably go check on my wife,” Rooster replied, his nerves and ‘Mother Hen’ tendencies, as Hangman called them, shining through.

“Of course.”

“Don’t let us keep you.”

“It was an honor to meet all of you again,” Rooster offered in goodbye, before checking on you.

The retired naval aviators watched him go and then turned to Maverick.

“God, he looks just like Goose,” Slider replied quietly.

“And with the mustache and the Hawaiian shirt too,” Wolfman agreed, sharing looks with the other retired naval aviators.

“Yeah, he does,” Maverick stated softly, watching Rooster weave through the party. “Just wait until you see him at a piano.”

Rooster slid through the crowd over to the back tables. You were still sitting with your feet propped up, a full glass of water in front of you, and your usual easygoing smile on your lips. Bob, Phoenix, and Hangman were keeping you company and spread out around you.

“You alright?” Rooster asked, walking to your side.

“I’m fine. Just wanted to sit down for a little bit. Baby Bradshaw seems a little excited about the party,” you stated, your hands resting over the swell of your bump. Rooster placed a hand under yours, where Baby Bradshaw tended to kick for the last few days. “How’s Mav doing?”

“I think he’s enjoying himself a lot. He hasn’t seen his old TOP GUN buddies in a while, so it’s nice for them to all come out to see him.”

“Well, Penny can be very convincing when she wants to be,” you mused with a smile.

Wordlessly you moved Rooster’s hand to the side, where the baby was pressing on you. Though you were growing tired of being pregnant, you didn’t think that you’d ever get tired of the way that Rooster just flipped a happy switch whenever he felt your baby.

“What are you all doing over here?” Rooster asked, turning back to the others.

“Actually, we’ve got a poll going about the baby,” Bob explained to Rooster.

“What are the votes?”

“I think it’s a girl,” Phoenix declared confidently.

“Which means that it’s a boy,” Hangman stated, just as confident.

“You only said that after you found out that Rooster and I think it’s a girl,” Phoenix retorted, causing Hangman to shrug his shoulders.

"So what?”

“I think that it’s a boy too,” you offered up. “The way that I’m carrying says that it’s a boy.”

“It’s not an exact science,” Rooster pointed out.

“No but call it mother’s intuition.”

“I guess I can’t argue with that.”

“God, you’re so whipped,” Hangman grunted, earning an elbow to the side from Phoenix.

Rooster and you ended up leaving the party among the first wave of people—mostly elderly and people with small children. But not before you received a whole bunch of random baby gifts from all of the people who missed your shower a month earlier.

“Do you want a hot bath when we get home?” Rooster offered, glancing over at you as he drove home.

“Maybe,” you sighed, shifting in your seat.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just uncomfortable. Nothing either of us can do for that.”

“You want more of that tea that Penny got you then?”

“Yeah, maybe that’ll help,” you murmured, leaning back in your seat. Your hands rubbed up and down your bump, trying to soothe yourself. “I think that Baby Bradshaw just got a little overexcited about meeting everyone all at once. But maybe some tea and a bath will help.”

“Coming right up,” Rooster assured you.

You pulled into the driveway and Rooster walked around to help you out. Usually, yo would just push his hand away and insist that you were more than capable of getting yourself out of the car, but this time you happily accepted his help.

“Are you sure that you’re alright?” Rooster asked worriedly.

“I’m fine,” you replied, pecking his cheek. “Just slow.”

Rooster walked with you to the front door, keeping a protective arm around your waist. You walked into the kitchen and Rooster instantly moved to heat up some hot water for your tea. You leaned on the countertop, just looking completely uncomfortable with your existence.

“I’ll grab the bags out of the car and then I’ll start your bath,” Rooster promised, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you.”

Rooster jogged down to the car and gathered whatever bags were sitting in the trunk. He left the go bag in the car, just in case, before heading back into the house. He wasn’t even completely through the door when he spotted you waddling towards the stairs.

“I’ll run your bath, babe, just sit and relax.”

“I’m not going to take a bath,” you called back, moving up the stairs slowly.

“You need help?”

“No, I just need to change.”

“Oh, okay,” Rooster replied, setting down the bags.

“Also, don’t walk through the kitchen yet,” you warned him, grunting a bit as you walked.

“Why?” Rooster asked, moving to stand at the bottom of the stairs.

“There’s amniotic fluid all over the floor and I haven’t gotten a chance to clean it up yet.”

“Amniotic . . .” Rooster trailed off before the realization hit him like 10 G’s all at once. “Babe!?”

Part 2

[themotherofhorses]

Does handmain!reader braid Aemond's hair? Does Aemond know how to braid his children's hair? PLS THE FLUFFFF

pairing: aemond targaryen x handmaid!reader

notes: DAD!AEMOND DAD!AEMOND DAD!AEMOND

his handmaid's tales | main masterlist

Three hours after sundown, his mother arrives at his doorway, carrying a reading lamp and two books of faith. “Would you like to sit and pray with me tonight, Aemond?” Alicent asks, but her voice soon trails off when she notices the hairbrush clutched in his hand and the twins at his knees. Both boys toy around with their tiny wooden stick swords, offering their grandmother two toothy little smiles.

“Oh, I see that you’re quite busy tonight…” she then adds, in a tone faint with teasing.

Aemond nods where he sits, gently combing out any tangles and snags in his son’s silver-pale hair. “Their mother easily puts me to shame, as she does with most things…” he mumbles, glancing sidelong at his other son, whose own shines like moonglow in a loose braid, “-but I do believe I’ve done a rather fine job with my boys.”   

Alicent hums. “Where might she be tonight? Did you dismiss her?”

Aemond gestures to his bed, where his handmaid lays fast asleep, cuddling around a pillow. As she slept, she had kicked off the blanket and sheets, and the pretty curve of her swollen belly limned in the soft glow from the hearth.

“The babe’s been stealing away most of her energy these past few days,” he tells Alicent, shaking his head. His fingers part the hair into three splits before looping the first over the second and tugging the third into the middle. “The maesters say the name day is nearing, perhaps in another fortnight.”

He refused any looks at his girl; otherwise, he’d drink in the lovely sight a bit too much like a drunken fool, and he’d prefer his mother not bearing witness to such.

Yet Alicent studies the sleeping handmaid, a shadow of a smile flickering across her lips. This time around, she had grown great with a girl, according to the maesters and midwives alike, as well as Aemond himself. He had pined so much for a daughter of his own, frequenting the sept alongside her, to sink onto his knees and pray to the Mother for a baby girl, one blessed with her mother’s features.

She hopes her son receives his daughter. He deserves it that much.

“Would you like for me to tuck in the boys for the night?”

Aemond smiles. “Ah, if it would be no bother to you, mother. I’d appreciate it…I don’t wish to leave her, not when she’s like this…” but Alicent waves him away, kneeling before the boys. “I’ll have them choose a bedtime story, and they can tell me all about their day.” So he kisses his sons on the nose and forehead before whispering a fond goodnight, sending them away with their grandmother.

And as they leave, hand in hand with Alicent, their little braids bounce with every step. The sight gives him nothing but joy and pride.

The fire in the hearth was quickly burning down to embers, and he hadn’t intended to disturb his resting girl, but he couldn’t stop himself from climbing over her. Sweeter than lemon cakes and more beautiful than all the seasons. He rubs at her bump, where hopefully his daughter sleeps too, and kisses her bare shoulder- then her cheeks and lips- and kisses her again when she murmurs in her sleep.

“You’re all I’ll ever need and more,” he breathes, nestling his head against her breast. I love you. I love you. I love you.

At that, her eyes open, and she smiles, stroking his hair. “Tomorrow, I shall braid it,” she whispers.

But Aemond snatches her hand and lifts it to his lips. “No. I’ll braid your hair, my sweet girl,” he promises, kissing each of her fingers, nipping at the skin, “I need the practice anyways.”

tag list for "his handmaid's tales": @aemondsblog @dc-marvel-girl96 @neobanguniverse @missalycat21 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @padfooteyes @alexizodd @avidreader73 @the-common-cowgirl @inlovewithhisblueeyes

[infamousbrad]

Biden's "Dean Scream"?

A week and a half ago, I was convinced that "Biden had one bad debate performance" was going to be a 3-day story. But now I see why it wasn't. (I mean, aside from the fact that summer is Silly Season in US journalism.) How well do you remember Howard Dean's final run for the Democratic nomination?

Howard Dean was a "progressive" by the standards of his time, that is to say, slightly to the left of, say, Richard Nixon at a time when the post-Bill-Clinton center-right wing of the Democratic Party totally controlled the nomination process, and he was running on an FDR-liberal type platform.

And the press spent the whole time he was in the race asking him the same question over and over again, "Does this mean that you're angry at the 'Third Way' Democrats? I'll bet you're angry at Bill Clinton and the 'Third Way' Democrats? Governor Dean, why don't you say a word about how angry you are?" Because if he was still running against "militant centrism" in a post-liberal party, he must be angry, right?

But he really wasn't. I never saw him actually get angry that whole campaign. He was happy to have inspired so many volunteers, and proud of his plan to rejuvenate the state-party apparatuses in written-off "red states," and never not happy to talk to a reporter, any reporter. Which was all the proof they needed to show that he was not only angry, he was nefarious. Because they couldn't imagine any plausible reason why anybody would go to as much effort as he did unless they were genuinely angry.

After the New Hampshire primary, he stood up in front of a group of his campaign volunteers to cheer them on, and they handed him a defective microphone. So he screamed his cheers into the dead microphone, so the volunteers in the back could hear him over the din. But the press microphones? Worked. And he didn't sound excited, he sounded deranged. And I swear to God, 100% of the political press reported it as "Howard Dean finally reveals his inner anger," even though the video shows him grinning and smiling like a child on Christmas.

Why could nothing disprove the "Howard Dean is the Angry Candidate" theory before, why was evidence to the contrary taken as proof it was true?

Because it fit the pre-existing narrative.

Look, we have never not known that Biden's age was going to be a problem. Even as he was sweeping the primaries in 2020, it came up. That's where the "he knows he's too old, he's just reassuring older voters that the party is normal, he's going to step aside for Kamala Harris" rumor got started, remember that? No matter how many times Biden himself denied it?

And if there was any truth to it, there's no point to it now. She hasn't gotten any better at either of the president's jobs, not at public speaking nor at shepherding legislation, so unsurprisingly she polls even worse than Biden.

Should Biden be replaced because he's getting slower and more mumbly as he ages? Did Reagan? He sailed to easy re-election despite the fact he was visibly declining by the end of his first term, way faster than Biden is now. His White House Chief of Staff, Howard Baker, was, by all accounts, acting president for at least three years, making sure that the last person to talk to Reagan before he had to make a decision was the person Baker thought that Reagan would have agreed with if he could remember anything that was happening around him.

(It's not even the most extreme example in US national politics: look up stories about Strom Thurmond's last term in the Senate, which was full-on "Weekend at Bernie's.")

An entirely senile top official who put a good team into place before he sundowned can do a perfectly good job. And trying to replace him would just hand the election to Trump. So no, even if he were as tired and confused as the press and jealous Democrats are painting him, that wouldn't be a good reason to replace him, not at this late of a date.

(If the entire party apparatus had discussed this behind closed doors and agreed to set up, say, Michigan's governor Whitmer or Pennsylvania's governor Shapiro as an agreed-upon backup candidate in case something like this happened, and gotten it done no later than, say, spring of '23, we'd have a minimally plausible option. But we didn't, so we don't. The choice isn't Biden or someone better, it's Biden vs Trump or Trump unopposed.)

But even given how weak-sauce the argument that a few verbal slips and mutters mean that Biden can't perform the duties of the president is, I suddenly realize now why it wasn't a three-day story. Just like the Dean Scream, he handed them the proof they needed of something they've been saying for four years, long before it was true, and everybody loves being "proved" right. Because, as I always say:

Confirmation bias is a hell of a drug.

[bitin-and-barkin]

Intertwined Fingers

What would the aftermath of your so called death look like?

Warnings: Arthur Morgan x Reader, Gender neutral reader, he's going a bit insane ngl, implied self harm, dog symbolism, smut, fun fact: Pomade was commonly used as lube in the 1800s, Dom reader, sub Arthur, soft sex (I finally did the soft sex thing), No mentions of your genetalia, you just jerk off Arthur because you wanted to take care of him tonight, sorry probably not what the people were looking for but its fine, weirdly described sex to the point where it's not even porn, just an art piece, more yandere shit in the next part but you can smell the start of it here, overuse of the word Intertwined

READ MORE UNDER THE CUT + Pt 2 to another story, Pt 1 here, Pt 3 here

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

That night in the hotel room, Arthur sheepishly asked if he could stay with you for the night.

You, of course, accepted.

After climbing into bed, he couldn't keep his hands off of you.

Well, he usually can't, always clinging to you like a koala bear. But especially not tonight.

Rubbing his hands up and down your chest. Feeling the grooves in your skin. The curves and marks. Wrapping his arms around you, nuzzling his nose into your neck.

Making sure all of his touches were gentle, as not to cause you pain.

Feeling your stomach rise and fall as you slept peacefully. Hearing your heartbeat.

Still softly sobbing, keeping it quiet so you could sleep, not daring to let go.

He felt like sinking into you in that moment.

For the first time in ages, Arthur slept peacefully. He could sleep for ages with your hands intertwined with his.

When you tried to get up in the morning, he pretended to be asleep so you'd stay with him for longer. When you tried to get up anyways?

He pretty much begged you to stay with him.

You ended up laying in bed for another hour before you finally were able to leave.

While taking you back to camp you told him about the doctors. How you already went to the one in Valentine, but they could only do so much.

He said he was gonna get a doctor to come here and properly check you out again, as he knew one that owed him some favors.

Worries of discreetness be damned.

Once you had gotten back to camp, people stared at you like they were looking at a ghost.

In fact, Sean fainted when he first saw you. They thought you were dead.

You even looked the part.

Hours had passed and it was sundown. Arthur had brought in a doctor named "Alphonse Renaud." By now, he had been in there for hours, Arthur right by his side.

His hands were soaked in blood, helping the doctor deal with everything they did to you.

The sick fucks had put nails in your legs.

Nails.

Your back was ripped to shreds, with some marks looking even like they came from whips.

They were irritated too, and Dr. Renaud guessed that they had poured whiskey into your wounds.

He was wondering how you managed to let him hold you the night before without wincing and whining out in pain.

Just imagining how much pain you must've been in, when he thought that he needed to hold you?

How much pain you must've been in when he was asking you on the ride back home if you felt okay?

He felt like the worst shit on earth.

Alphonse estimated you'd live a lifetime of numbness and pain on certain, scarred parts.

At least you weren't in pain right now.

You were currently passed out from Morphine after Arthur yelled at Swanson to help alleviate your pain, when he heard you whimper as the doctor worked.

He silently cried into his hands next to your bedside after he heard your shallow breaths.

He was scared. So fucking scared.

A 3 days passed, with Arthur watching your every movement like a hawk. He was around you 24/7. All other priorities just seemed to fade into the background.

You were fading in and out of consciousness. Going through fevers and hot flashes, scaring everybody at camp.

Whenever you were awake, you seemed to be in a trance. Muttering about things that weren't there, unable to recognize anybody. Not even your husband.

Arthur hadn't slept in that time either. Afraid that if he looked away for one second, the O'Driscolls would swoop up and take you away from him again.

He didn't even think of letting Kieran near you, your horse, or the tent you were in.

He got antsy when you got home, gaining an even shorter fuse to match. Doing everything to make the place more comfortable for you. Cleaning your bedsheets, changing your bandages. Gently talking to you about his day and asking about yours while you were asleep, that way if you woke up you wouldn't wake up alone.

Hosea insisted he needed rest. But every single time he went to bed, he couldn't sleep. Wracked with anxiety. Knowing you were just 15 feet away, safe and sound in your tent, yet still wondering where you were.

Wondering where his darling was.

He snuck into your tent later that night and sat down next to you. Coming down here just to make sure you were still breathing.

Watching your chest rise, your breaths were still as shallow as ever.

He had just gotten you back and he was already losing you again.

And with his coddling and touching, he had only made it worse.

He'd give anything to go back to the way things were.

Before you went on that shitty sniping job, god, what in fucking hell made Dutch think that was a good idea?

He'd give up all his things. He'd kill every O'Driscoll known to man. He'd break his own legs. He'd trade places with you. He'd kill himself.

Just for you to be okay.

He reached down, tracing his finger against scars that weren't there before.

He started talking softly to your sleeping body,

Saying how later he'll take you to the city and get you anything you want. He'll take you out dancing, or to the saloon, or to one of those new picture shows if you feel up to it.

How later he'll shoot Colm for what he did. Make his death slow, make him feel every ounce of pain you did. Doubled. He'll make Colm beg for mercy, then leave him to rot to death in some shithole.

How later, if that stupid Tahiti dream ever becomes realized, he'll settle down with you. Have a kid or two if you feel like it. As long as he can raise them with you.

Only you. Nobody but you.

How later, he'll build a mansion for you and you'd never have to be afraid of anyone hurting you ever again.

How he's so sorry that you had to come find him.

That you'd kill him if you died.

He heard the bed creak as he nervously chatted on and on.

Felt your fingers intertwining with his.

He turned to you, smiling.

You had awoken, and reached out to him.

He tucked your hair behind your ear.

There you were.

For the first time in a long time you were coherent. Aware. Unafraid.

And for the first time in a long time, you saw him clearly.

He took your hand and raised it to his lips, gently kissing your bruised knuckles. Asking how you felt as he did.

He looked... tired.

There were scrapes on his palms and hands, deep cutting scars. Going up and along his wrists and forearms.

Now that you think about it, when you first saw him again, his sleeves were rolled down.

He never rolled them down.

There were new gashes on his face. Along his lips and jaw. He was starting to look like John.

His cheeks were gaunt, and he had deep eyebags. As if they've been festering for months.

His hair was longer, a bit tangled too.

You're used to him being so broad, and while he still is, he looks almost underweight.

You took your other hand and reached up to his cheek, gently stroking it.

He leaned into your touch. He looked exhausted.

God, What had happened while you were gone?

He was resting his face on your hand as he held your other.

You gripped his jaw and pulled him close, softly placing a kiss on his lips.

And placing his free hand on yours, he returned it.

Bodies intertwining like a jigsaw puzzle.

He tried to pull away, wanting to give you air, but you pulled him even closer.

God, you were gonna be the death of him.

He pushed his hands under your shirt,

with you hastily undoing his belt.

Whispering to you,

"Darling, you're so pretty it hurts."

Pushing you to the bed,

placing kisses on your scars.

You pulled your hand away and placed them on his jeans, groping him through his pants.

His head whipped back, letting out a shaky moan.

Whimpering something unintelligible.

You were toying with his tits through his shirt.

Biting down, leaving hickeys along his neck.

Continuing to grope his dick, making him sport a tent in his pants.

And just looking into his eyes, and he had the look of a kicked puppy.

Just begging for you to properly touch him.

Unzipping his fly, his dick sprung out. Slapping against his stomach.

No wonder he had that look in his eyes. He'd follow you like a dog, and worship you like god. At least, it looked like he wanted to tonight.

You took his dick in your hand, pumping him up and down. Pressing your forehead against his, telling him to just relax, that you wanted to take care of him. Helping him take his shirt off as he whispered "Are you sure?" Asking you if you felt well enough to do this.

His breath hitching, he fumbled to untie his bandana before resorting to just rip the thing off entirely.

Peeling off his shirt just to feel you more. To touch you, as you pulled him close. Asking him to tell you just how much he missed you as pre-cum seeped out of his dick, slicking your palm.

You pulled forward and gently kissed his collarbone, licking your free hand and playing with his chest as you stroked him at a steady pace.

Biting down on his neck, his flesh soft between your teeth.

Only yours though. Only yours.

He slotted his head into your shoulder, and began to mumble, kissing your neck up and down.

Cradling your head in his palm.

Running his fingers across your bones, licking stripes against healed wounds.

To whimper and to whine, just like he did the day before.

Like a dog doing all the tricks it knew.

Fucking like two instruments playing in tune.

His eyes were glossed over, his hot breath puffing like smoke, and his words weren't making any sense anymore.

The sensual turning the sexual into the unintelligible, just repeating over and over,

I love you,

I love you,

I love you.

People in camp always talked shit about Arthur, how he was "Van Der Linde's Bitch." His dog, broken in like a wild horse. Obedient, pliable, perfect. But they're giving credit to the wrong man.

It was all you. Only you, Only you.

He arched back on the bed, crying your name as he came. His seed splattering across his stomach, into your hands.

Begging you not to leave him ever again.

Not even once,

Not even once,

Not even once.

Pleasure sparked behind his eyelids like a gunshot.

You hushing him with silent kisses, telling him to quiet down.

Letting him rut and sputter into your hands like putty until he finally came completely undone, and the only noise was his labored breathing, panting.

His hands trailed up your thighs, eager to return the favor. But you gingerly grabbed his palms and brought them up to your lips.

Oh so gently kissing his knuckles, just like he did for you.

His eyes were still red from crying. Months of grief released in a week.

You pulled his face close, kissing him on the cheek.

Pulling him down into bed, slotting your hips in between his.

Sleeping together,

with your hands intertwined.

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Should I keep this story going???

@yyiikes

[starry-bi-sky]

Clone^2 - graveyard shift

The dinging of the door alerts Sarah of someone walking in, and she barely glances up from her phone to see who it is. It's past midnight and somehow her coworker John managed to convince her to take over his graveyard shift at their convenience store. He owes her one, because she's been standing here for an hour and nobody's come in.

Not a surprise to her - nobody likes to stay out past sundown in Amity Park, even after nearly three years of ghosts appearing all over the place.

But still, it happens sometimes. So she doesn't look up. The dinging bell just lets her know that it's not a ghost, and that's really all she can ask for. The last time she worked late and a ghost came in, she was cleaning the shelves from some weird goo for an hour.

However, the lack of footsteps in the store after a few seconds worries her enough that she forces her head to lift. And a frown weaves its way onto her face when she sees no one at the door, nor anyone in the closet aisles.

...Shit, was there really a ghost here? Can they ring door when they come in? Normally she sees them just phase right through. And normally they glow, bright and jarring that leaves a migraine building behind Sarah's eyes.

Her eyes quickly scan the shelves again, looking for anything out of place -- anyone with too many heads, or too many teeth, or snakes for hair. She's pretty sure a coworker saw that once when they were working graveyard.

But she still sees no one. Apprehension raises the hair on the back of her neck, and she straightens up from her lean against the counter. Fuuuck. Was this one of those... marshmallow ghosts? An animal ghost?

Sarah really does not want to have to fight off a three-eyed raccoon looking-thing with eagle feet. She's heard the horror stories. And there was no way to contact the Phantom or the Red Huntress to come pick it up -- and she wasn't gonna try her luck with the Drs. Fentons.

Her fingers itch for the broom hanging on the wall behind her. It probably won't do much against a mutant raccoon-ghost-monster, but it'll make her feel better.

There's a rustle and crinkle in the candy aisle, and Sarah's hands are curled around the broom before she could blink. Her heart beating in her chest. She walks out from the counter, the bristled end raised like a bat in the air as she creeps apprehensively towards the noise.

There's nothing there when she peers around the side, and the aisle shelves are tall enough that she can't see over them.

She raises the broom higher. Sarah was in softball. She could take out a raccoon-eagle-hybrid.. thing.... easily. She just... needs to pretend its a golf ball. Except golf isn't softball so that's a terrible comparison.

Oh god she was gonna get her face ripped off, wasn't she.

John so owes her one. So much.

Creeping down the aisle, she keeps her ears perked for any new sounds. But all she can really hear is the soft pop music playing on the store speakers -- chosen by yours truly from her own personal playlist -- and the hum of the freezers. Ugh. This was not good for her paranoia. Like, at all.

Sarah's down at the end of the aisle when she feels a quick set of taps on her shoulder. Her nerves are already shot, so she shrieks and whirls around on her foot, swinging the broom blindly.

Only to be met with sudden and blunt resistance. Blinking rapidly, Sarah stares up and sees a black gloved hand gripping the broom handle tightly, small white bandages peeking over the side around five fingers. Following the hand down connects it with an arm, and then a chest, and suddenly she's staring at a black hoodie and black jacket.

When she tilts her head up, Sarah comes face to face with the bone-white mask and the terrifying, unearthly green eyes of their local vigilante, the Phantom.

...Holy fuck. It was the Phantom.

He was taller than she initially thought. Was her jaw on the ground? Probably. It was flapping like a fish out of water. "I- uh, you-- buh--"

Slowly, the Phantom raised his free hand and wrapped it around the handle of the broom. Sarah watches, wide eyed still and stammering as he firmly plucked the broom out of her hands and turned to lean it against the shelves.

Something about him doing that must've kicked her brain back into gear, because the first thing that comes out of her mouth is; "Your eyes are really green."

And she was going to lock herself in the freezer in the back for that one. She feels her face grow hot with embarrassment, and the Phantom only looks at her blankly. Her eyes shift nervously. "Well, it's true."

It was! The green eyes of the Phantom was his most defining feature other than that unsettling mask he wore. Especially considering they were the same color as some of the ghosts. It was one of the many, many creepy things about the guy.

Looking at it gave her the same, faint headache as when she stared at a ghost for too long. So Sarah drops her gaze a little to avoid it.

The Phantom remains silent, but he raises his hands and signs something to her that she doesn't understand. Fuck, that's right. He didn't speak - and Sarah doesn't know any ASL.

Sarah cringes. "Sorry, I don't know ASL."

She can feel his burning green eyes boring into her, and he remains as silent as the grave as he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a phone in a plain black case. She watches him turn it on -- or at least she assumes he does, there's a privacy protector covering the screen -- and type something into.

He holds it up to her face when he's done, and she squints at the screen. In the notes app, a small text reads; 'We're ready to pay.'

..Oh. This wasn't Sarah's night. Embarrassment flashes hot through her and she forces out a laugh in order to try and quell it, Phantom shoves the phone back into his pocket. "Oh! Oh, right! I'm sorry, I'll uh- get up to the front--" She stops in her tracks.

Wait. Did that message say 'we?'

She smiles nervously, tilting her head up at the Phantom as her brows thread together. "Um," she swallows dryly, "we?" Didn't... didn't the Phantom work alone?

As if startled, the Phantom jerks. And for the first time since he showed up, he blinks and turns around. Which personally, doesn't bode that well as the Phantom swivels his head from side to side like he's looking for someone.

Sarah thinks, after the Phantom stalks up to the end of the aisle and looks around, she hears him sigh. And when he walks back, he snatches the broom with an elegant twist and knocks it against the shelves.

Thud, thud, thud!

There's very, very quiet shuffling that Sarah would have missed if she hadn't been looking for it, and then silence for a few seconds, before suddenly there's a small child pushing past her side and over to the Phantom.

And in the process, scaring the shit out of Sarah.

She squeaks and jumps, nearly tripping over her own feet as the child makes a spot next to the Phantom's side. "Where did you come from?!" She says, her heart pounding against her ribcage.

The child says nothing, just stares at her through a creepy bone-white mask reminiscent of the Phantom's. Although unlike the Phantom, he was wearing some... kind of... dark red ninja outfit?

Sarah really wasn't quite sure. It was partially covered by a jacket that clearly belonged to the Phantom and with the sleeves rolled up multiple times to his elbows. The jacket alone nearly obscured the sword attached to his hip.

...Why the hell did the child have a sword.

She looks between Phantom and the child, at a loss for words. Why-- why did the Phantom have a kid with him, why was the kid wearing a mask like his.

"You have a child with you." Sarah says bluntly, her voice flat. It betrays how shocked she feels. The Phantom doesn't say anything, as she should have expected, but he does nod shortly.

The child bristles slightly, but says nothing. Part of his mouth was uncovered, and she watched it twist downward into a scowl at her. Unlike the Phantom, his eyes were not green. She couldn't see his eyes at all, actually. They were shadowed by the mask.

There's the sound of paper thwipping, and like a magician pulling out a card, the Phantom holds out a note card to her. He stares, expectantly, and Sarah reluctantly takes it.

Written in neat writing and bold sharpie are the words; "This is Wraith."

...And that's it. Sarah glances up at Phantom. Then at the supposed 'Wraith'. Then back at Phantom. "You're bringing a child with you to ghost hunt?" She asks, and okay, maybe she's not able to hide all of the judgement leaking into her voice. "And you gave him a sword?"

The Phantom stares at her blankly, or well, probably blankly. All of his expressions are unreadable with the mask he wears. But the kid, Wraith, bristles again like a stray cat. His scowl deepens, he puffs up, and he opens his mouth like he's about to say something.

...Only for the Phantom to immediately snap his hand out and cover his mouth. Wraith makes an angry sound, and Phantom drags the boy into his side, seemingly nonplussed as he twists his wrist and pulls another note card out of nowhere.

"He is perfectly capable of handling himself." The card reads, and then continues; "I would not have been able to stop him anyways. Wraith would have followed me regardless."

Did he have these prepared?

Best not to question it, Sarah decides. The Phantom has always been strange. So she just nods mutely and stuffs the two notecards into her back pocket. "Okay," she says, and moves around the Phantom. "I'll check you out up front."

[moody-alcoholic]

Epilogue

It's over so here is my opportunity for a quick TED talk.

I do have idea's for some one shots in the future, so the fic won't be 'finished' but the main story is. I am also very much open to suggestions.

For now though this is the end for this fic. I want to say thank you to everyone who loved the story and followed it. To all the people who binge read it in one night. You have no idea how much it means to me.

I want to give a special thank you to @void-my-warranty for inspiring me through her work to bite the bullet and write a smut fic. If I was to dedicate this work to anyone it would be her. Thank you <3

I will write more Ghoap x reader in the future but for now I’m shifting my focus to my other work and the upcoming Johnny x Simon fic I have been working on. I always strive to improve with every work I put out there, so if you like this check out my other works they’re all a little different.

If you want more Ghoap stuff I will leave some recommendations here, there are so many talented authors out there who deserve way more love then me so go forth and enjoy!

Recommendations. A Dichotomy of Thought - REMEMBERWREN Ghoap x reader Harmless Fun - REMEMBERWREN Ghoap x reader Sundowning - losersimonriley Simon x Johnny Service Dog Johnny - void-my-warranty Ghost/Fem Reader/Soap ——————————

Summary: . Ghoap x Reader, throuple. Reader is female (she/her), army nurse, non descript physical features, names used: Ashe. CW: Mentions of suicide, grieving, mentions of death.

Previous parts - masterlist - Back to the start

Enjoy <3

6 months later

You’re surprised to see Johnny is waiting for you as you exit the hospital after your shift. You throw yourself in his arms.

“I thought you weren't back till Friday?” You say kissing him.

“Price got us on an earlier flight, thought I would come and surprise you.” He says wrapping his arm round your waist.

“Where’s Simon?” You ask looking around.

“Debrief, boring admin work, he’ll be back later.” Johnny says as you walk with him.

“That mean we’ve got the flat to ourselves?” You nudge him as he leads you to the car. He chuckles.

“How’s civilian life treating you?” He asks as you both get in. You quit the military a few weeks after what happened with Jack. Price managed to pull some strings and get you honourably discharged. You joined the reserves, it felt right, keeping just a little connection. You got your old job back at the hospital, the same one you and Chloe worked in. It was nice to see old faces, and new ones too.  

“You know, same old same old. We planted that tree for Chloe. You should have been there it was lovely.” You say suddenly feeling sad. You rallied with the people from A&E who worked with Chloe and you all sponsored a tree for the patients garden.

Her family gave you her ashes. They just turned up on your door one day. You had them made into a rock, then placed it under the tree. You don’t know if that’s what she would have wanted but it felt right. Johnny’s hand rests on your thigh. 

“What about you, you must have more interesting stories then the ones I have from working 12 hours in A&E.” You say smiling and pushing the tears away. 

“Ah yes, we’ve had some adventures I’ll give you that love.” Johnny says as you drive out the car park. You let him talk the whole way, it had been a week since you’d seen them and you were desperate to spend time with them again. When you make it into the flat Simon is there. 

“Thought you wouldn’t be back till late?” Johnny asked as you run into his arms.

“Price said he could handle it.” Simon says before you plant your lips on his.

“How’s civilian life?” Simon asks, you roll your eyes.

“They planted the tree for Chloe.” Johnny says from the kitchen.

“Yeah, how’d it go?” He asks, looking at you. 

“Good, I think she would have liked it.” You reply. Simon nods leading you over to the sofa as Johnny comes over with a bottle of wine and wine glasses. You cuddle up next to Simon as Johnny pours the glasses.

“What’s the latest with the Masons?” You ask. You hadn’t been keeping up with it but Simon and Johnny’s had, they’d been watching them like hawks.

“They’re in court on Monday, we’ll know more then.” Simon says. It took a month or so but finally people were formally arrested. Almost every family member who was in the military had been dishonourably discharged, and there were even talks of the Americans getting involved and also prosecuting the family.

You were warned you would need to go to court to testify, but you didn’t care. Jack killed himself, left a suicide note, seems the family was planning on pushing all the blame on him so they could try and get away with it. His note was pretty damming, it’s been big part of why they were able to get so many of his family.

They’ll lose their house, businesses everything. Most of them are looking at life in prison. You didn’t want to smile but it was good, justice and you would never have to worry about them again. You feel Johnny pull your legs up on him scooting over to sit closer to Simon. It reminded you of the first night you stayed in their flat. A bottle of wine and shitty police chaser shows.

“I reckon e’ll make it.” Johnny says sipping the wine. You turn to look at him smiling. 

“Don’t be silly Johnny.” Simon scoffs. You look up at Simon. 

"I bet he makes it." You smile looking back at the TV. Simon kisses the top of your head. You were glad they were back and back safe.

"I love you." You mumble as you hug Simon.

"Love you too." He says as Johnny's hand strokes your back. You look over at the TV. They caught the guy.

[youkissedareaderinthedark]

Red Bull Family

Synopsis: Y/n L/n joins Red Bull Racing in 2022, and after some warming up, becomes Max Verstappen’s best friend. These are seven moments over the years when the energetic young adult breaks down “Mad Max”

young female driver reader x platonic max verstappen

so, I saw a rumor one time about how Max might want to leave f1 after his contract ends in 2028, so I thought it’d be fun to write a story about a teammate friendship and how it feels when one person retires. for this one, reader is 19 and max is 24 when she joins red bull in 2022

(y’all this fic took over a week to write and is almost 10k words 💀 idek if it’s good or not but i am not leaving this is my drafts)

2022- “Welcome”

You didn’t know why you were this nervous. It was just a team. They were just your coworkers. He was just your teammate. Today was your first day at Red Bull Racing. In the middle of the 2021 season, Christian Horner approached you with an offer to leave Alpha Tauri and join the Red Bull Team alongside Max Verstappen for 2022. You didn’t know what to expect from your new team, much less the infamous “Mad Max”. You knew that he could be kind and funny, but you also knew he could be cold and brutally straight forward.

With as much confidence as you could gather, you walked out of your car and towards the Red Bull Headquarters. The only person you knew was the team principal and that was only because of contract meetings and phone calls. It was your only chance at a first impression, and you were determined to make a good one.

The first person you saw when you walked inside was Christian, though he was surrounded by a few other people. “Y/n! Welcome! It’s nice to finally see in here in headquarters” Christian said, offering a smile and a handshake. You offered your own hand as he introduced you to the people around you.

“This is May Dawson your ‘minder’ or personal assistant, of sorts.” A woman that looked around your age stepped forward and shook your hand.

“Pierre Wache, our technical director” A middle-aged man stepped forward. “And our director of engineering, Paul Monaghan” The last man present shook your hand.

“So, first, we’re going to introduce you to everyone in the factory, just to give you a chance to meet everyone, then, there’s a meeting with the five of us, it’s not going to take very long, it’s just to further introduce you to Red Bull, alright?” Christian puts a hand on your shoulder and leads you through the factory. You just nod and smile as you look around the factory.

Your team principle gives you a mini tour of the place while you walk to the main garage, where your co-workers wait for you. You smile as you enter the room and applauds fill the space.

You greet as many people as you can as the five of you walk down the stairs. “Okay, okay. Thank you everyone for being here to introduce our newest driver, Y/n L/n!” Everyone starts clapping again, and you notice your teammate across the room.

As Christian continues talking, you make your way towards him. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you, I’m-” He cuts you off. “Y/n L/n, I know, he just said that” Max chuckles at you.

“It’s nice to meet you too, I’m Max” He takes your outstretched hand. You take notice of Christian’s lasting speech.

“So, how long do these ‘introductions’ usually last? I mean, you know, right? I’m your third teammate in three years” You both laugh.

“Yeah, you are. Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon. But then you have your introduction meeting, that lasts at least an hour and a half, and then I think you’d have some media stuff afterwards. So, you’re not leaving for a couple hours” Both of you laugh again as your team principle’s speech finishes.

“I’ll see you soon, good luck” Max smirks at you. “Thanks, see you soon” You smile back at him as May approaches to take you to the meeting.

Your teammate turns out to be right, and you don’t end up leaving the factory until after sundown. Your first day consists of a lot of handshakes, a photo shoot in your new attire, and a thorough tour of Red Bull headquarters.

You're due back tomorrow for some more introductory stuff and a meeting with your PR team. The first race of the 2022 season isn’t until a month and a half, but there is a lot of prep work.

There were no knots in your stomachs as you thought of your upcoming weeks at Red Bull or with Max. You didn’t really know what to expect, but you were excited, nonetheless.

2023- “The Dream Team”

It’s been over two years since you’ve been recruited to Red Bull, and you couldn’t have asked for a better two seasons with the team. In both 2022 and 2023, the lowest result you’ve got was P9. You and Max have completely dominated both race seasons, with a Red Bull driver always on the podium. Christian Horner was extremely pleased with his driver’s performances and the rest of the racing world came to love watching you race.

The fandom also loved seeing you and Max together. Your first days at the factory started the friendship and partnership that so successful today. The team behind Red Bull’s YouTube channel had you film a ‘Two Truths and a Lie” video as your first appearance together and the two of you have been attached at the hip since. You’re the first person to congratulate each other after a race and are known for speaking very fondly of the other when given the opportunity.

Max sees a lot of himself in you and ever since the first time he saw you in the Red Bull car on the track, he knew you were going to be something special. You were right about him being kind; the Dutch man has acted like your mentor during your first year at Red Bull, offering advice and never faltering in his belief in your success. He made you laugh a lot too, especially when Daniel Ricciardo was by his side.

Daniel joined you two in most media duties for the team, and it usually takes forever to get anything done due to the constant talking and laughing that goes on between you three. You met the Australian later in your first week at Red Bull and in true Daniel Ricciardo fashion, he made you feel comfortable immediately and the two of you became fast friends.

Seeing as Formula 1 was nearing the end of the 2023 Season, Red Bull decides to bring back a popular class, On the Sofa with Max Verstappen, Y/n L/n, and Daniel Ricciardo. You teased it with a photo of the couch on your Instagram and the fans went crazy. It was a bit sad knowing it was the end of the season, but you were mostly excited, both to go home and to do an iconic video with Max and Daniel.

“Hello everyone, I’m Daniel Riccardo”

“I’m Max Verstappen”

“I’m Y/n L/n”

“And this is, for the first time in a while actually, On the Sofa, with Max, Daniel, and Y/n” The older man introduced you three. “If you don’t remember, it’s fine because neither do I” The three of you smiled. “We are going to be reflecting on some on-track and off-track moments from this racing season. I’ve got the questions, they might have the answers, let’s get started”

Daniel turned to you. “Y/n, you decided to copy me and win in Monaco, your first win in 2023, also. What was going through your head throughout the race, when you crossed the finish line, and during your dive into the pool?”

You smiled at the memory of your first win. “Well, a lot of the race was me trying not to get too excited and mess up. I qualified P2, right behind Max, and because there isn’t a lot of opportunities to overtake in Monaco, I was pretty comfortable finishing there, but then I overtook him towards the end of the race and spent the rest of it trying not to freak out. I was really relieved when I crossed the finish line, and the dive into the pool didn’t even feel like an option. Jumping into the pool is something iconic for all drivers who win there, how I am not going to do it?” You spoke honestly.

“I’m surprised you didn’t copy my belly flop too” Daniel said, making you laugh. He turned to your teammate. “Max, she beat you. How did that feel?”

“Oh, it felt great, you know. I love being overtaken by my teammate. It’s a great feeling really” Max replied sarcastically. “No, but actually, I mean, obviously I wasn’t happy about not winning but it was nice to see you win, I was proud, if I’m not gonna win, I’d want it to be you” He turned to you and a smile came on your face. Daniel let out a small smile before interrupting. ‘Alright enough of the sappy, ‘I love you’ bullshit” He picked up another card.

“Max, what was your favorite win this season?”

“I think the Austrian Grand Prix. With it being at the Red Bull Ring and having a lot of Dutch fans there, it made the race pretty special” That was a good day for Red Bull, a 1-2 from you and Max and a lot of support from the fans. You remembered the cheers from the arena and the celebrations that seemed endless.

“Yeah, you liked flexing on everyone else, didn’t you” Daniel joked and the three of you laughed. “Someone ask me a question now” Neither you or Max were given cards, but you were happy to improvise.

“Daniel, what was the best part of filming your show, ‘Grandstand' with Will Arnett?” You asked. “I think just getting chance to commentate and watch the race with someone. I mean, I’m usually watching the race from the garage or the pit wall, but it was fun to just talk and kinda goof around while the race went on instead of just watching” The Australian replies.

“Y/n, what was your favorite off-track moment from 2023?”

You immediately grin. “Definitely the paint video. By far, that was so much fun.” At the Belgian Grand Prix, the Red Bull media team had you, Daniel, and Max, do a painting challenge. Daniel and Max had to give you instructions to create a portrait of the three of you, while you were blindfolded. You were laughing the entire time, and it escalated to a paint fight once they insulted your finished portrait. The team was mad at you and Max for ruining your clothes and causing a delay for you three of clean up, but it was worth it.

“Oh, the paint video was so much fun”

“I still have some of that purple paint on my hat, I think” You splattered paint on one of Max’s beloved hats, claiming that he should add a purple one to his collection. The three of you laughed and Daniel picked up another card. “This one is for both of you. What is the best part of having the other as a teammate?” You looked at each other before you responded.

“Well, first off, Max is more than my teammate, I think that’s the best part of it” You chuckled before continuing. “I mean, you’re my mentor, you’re my friend, you’re my supporter. You’ve made my first year of Red Bull easier and a lot less scary than I thought it would be, and not a lot of drivers have all those things in a teammate”

You finished, not wanting to ramble on about how grateful you were for your friend and looked at Max, who was smiling at you. “Wow, Max, how are you gonna top that?”

Max chuckled at that before answering. “Y/n is all those things for me as much as I am for her. When I’m unhappy with my performance, she is there for me. Without even realizing it, you teach me things that I probably would not have learned with anyone else as my teammate” He speaks to you now.

“Aw, what a love fest. You guys should hug it out” Daniel comments. “You have to join the hug, too, Daniel” you say before moving closer to the two of them. The Australian wraps his arms around the younger drivers in a hug, swaying slightly, before completely pushing you and Max off the couch.

“No love here. Only violence and pain” You and Max laugh from your places on the ground. “That’s it for today, hope you had a fun 2023 season, don’t do drugs, and we’ll see you next year” Daniel said before walking out of frame. You and Max both waved to the camera. “Bye everyone, we’ll see you next season!”

2024- “More than you think”

It was Round 7 of the 2024 Race Season and for once, Monaco couldn’t have been uglier. It was pouring rain and the wind could be heard over the twenty car engines. You’ve driven in a lot of wet races since you joined Formula 1 in the beginning of 2021 but never in one as bad as this one.

You and Max were talking about the conditions in your driver's room and how even though you both thrived in the rain, this was too intense for comfort.

“I mean, I know the FIA is brain dead in most situations, but, jeez, you’d have to be blind to make us race” You complained to your teammate seated beside you on your couch.

“I know, and in Monaco too” Max trailed off, hoping there wouldn’t be any crashes today. Soon enough you two had to separate to prepare for the race, but not before promising to see each other off before you got into your respective cars.

An hour passes and the rain doesn’t let up. Your race engineer informs you that if anything, it’s somehow supposed to get worse. Frowning, you make your way to Max’s side of the garage to wish him luck. “Hey, be careful today, okay? Good luck” You tapped him on the shoulder and put your hand on his shoulder.

“And you the same, yeah? Good luck” He pulled you into a hug before putting on his balaclava and helmet.

Both Red Bulls start their formation laps, trying to see through the rain and avoid the other cars on track. Your heart beats faster as you approach your place of P3 on the grid and the five red lights come on.

“And it’s lights out and away we go in Monaco!” The voice of Martin Brundle becomes audible. You manage to pull away, but the tight corners of Monte Carlo don’t allow you to gain a lead. You struggle through the mist of the two cars in front of you for the first 11 laps of the race but manage as best you can, until you get to the straight after Turn 8.

You didn’t see Charles Leclerc’s Ferrari in front of you. The spray from the rain kept you from knowing that he slowed down, until your front wing hit the back of his car. The collision caused your car to turn almost 180 degrees around, making the car behind you, Fernando Alonso, ram into the side of your car. The impact made you spin off track and into the barriers for a harsh stop.

“Big collision on the straight before Turn 9! I think that’s Y/n L/n’s Red Bull! She was hit by Fernando Alonso, I think, after Charles Leclerc braked.” Martin commentates as he looks onto the track. ‘That looked very bad, might be- yep, red flag until we know if L/n’s okay. Her car has stopped but she hasn’t moved yet”

You were completely disoriented in your car, your dizzy head making it hard to comprehend what had happened. Once you realized you had crashed into the barrier, you noticed the intense pain coming from your left leg and left side of your rib cage, the side that Fernando hit.

You tried to get out of your car, but your leg made it nearly impossible, you would have to wait until the safety marshals arrived.

Max was in P1 so he didn’t see your crash in person, but he saw glimpses of it through his rearview mirror. “That was Y/n? Is she okay?” The Dutch asks his race engineer, GP. “Yeah, that was Y/n. No information on her yet. Just slow down and get back to the pitlane” The man responds. “Is she out of her car?” Max radios again. GP didn’t want to worry Max, knowing how close you two are, but he knows he has to tell Max.

“She hasn’t, Max, Y/n is still in her car, that’s all we know. Just focus on getting back to the pits safely” Max ignores GP again.

“What has she said?” Gianpiero hesitates for a moment before responding.

“Nothing, Max. There hasn’t been any communication from Y/n yet.” At that, Max mutters “Fuck it” before pulling his car over after Turn 11 and shutting off the engine.

“Max, no, come back to the-”

The driver cuts his race engineer off. “No, I’m going to see if she is okay. Don’t try to stop me”

Max was thinking back to your conversation before the race and became filled with worry. He knew he should’ve pushed Christian to get the FIA to cancel the race; he knew it was too dangerous. Now you’ve crashed and are unresponsive in your car.

Max runs through the rain to get to your car to see you struggling to get out. “Y/n! Are you okay?” He shouts loudly as he gets closer.

“Not really. My left leg got hit, and I think I hurt my ribs” You wince as you shout from your cockpit.

“I’m going to help you get out, let me know if it hurts too much” Max stands over you and grabs your hands to pull you up. You crouch on your one good leg and let him help you stand you up in your seat, one arm across your ribs. “Good?”

“Yeah, I just don’t know how I’m going to get out from here”

“Let me carry you, keep your bad leg out” Max comes to the side of your car, and you make out his outstretched arms through the wind and rain. He puts one of your arms around his neck and grabs your good leg, carrying you bridal style.

He puts you down a few feet away from your car but makes sure your arm is still around his neck so he can help you walk. “Look, the marshals are coming. I’m going to leave you with them and come see you after the race, okay?” Your teammate says as the safety car pulls over next to you and Max.

“Okay, thank you Max, you know you didn’t have to”

“I know, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He says honestly.

“Good luck” You called out as two medics came out of the car and wrapped your arms around their shoulders. They took you to the medical center where you were diagnosed with a fractured knee and a few fractured ribs. You spent the rest of the race in the hospital so doctors could put a cast around your leg, while May sat beside you and updated you about the ongoing event. She got there a little after you did so she could gather all your stuff from the garage, and you could go back to your hotel once you get discharged.

A knock on the door interrupts your conversation with her. “Hey” Max’s head becomes visible as the door opens. “Hey Max, congrats on P1. I’ll check you out, Y/n, I’ll come back in a few minutes” May nods and leaves you and Max alone.

“Hey Max, you did great out there” You smile at your teammate from your place on the hospital bed.

“Thanks, I was happy Charles and Carlos got to the podium with me, but I wish you could’ve been there”

“Me too, but..” You trail off, gesturing to your leg and torso.

“So, I talked to Charles and Fernando, they plan on visiting you at your hotel tomorrow, they were worried about you, especially Charles” The Dutch man tells you.

“Yeah, I figured, I’ll talk to them tomorrow” It is silent for a minute, until Max suddenly blurts out. “Are you okay? I mean, I know you aren’t okay, but, how long until you are?”

It wasn’t until now you noticed that Max’s blue eyes are filled with worry. “The doctor said it would be at least a month until I can race again, and I’m going to be in the cast for a couple weeks” Your teammate frowned.

“I’m sorry, Y/n” You shrugged. “It’s not your fault”

“I know, but I wish I could help”

“Don’t worry about it, Max. I’ll be back soon, it’s only a month”

“I know”

Who you can only guess to be May knocks on the door. “I’ll see you, later, Y/n, get better soon” He grabs your hand before leaving the room. As you ride back to your hotel, you look at social media to make a statement about your current state.

Max has surprised you about a lot of things today, and by the looks of the comments under the videos about your crash, the fans are too. You’ve never been in a serious crash to the point where you need to go to the hospital before, but you expected Max to just text you after his race and ask about it the next time you see him.

The fans are going crazy, mostly the ones that ship you two together, but generally they’re just happy you seemed okay. You would comfortably say that Max is your best friend, but still, he’s not the type to stop his own race to check on you. It may have taken you two years, but you finally realize that “Mad Max” isn’t mad at all.

2025- “By my side”

It was the beginning of the 2025 racing season, you were in your fourth year at Red Bull with Max and by this point, you knew each other better than you knew yourselves. There is no point in having separate driver’s rooms because you are always in his, your press officers have given up on trying to get the two of you to behave and just let you follow each other around the media pen, and your Red Bull co-workers are smart enough to not let you two alone in a room together, especially not after you two had found the old Crazy Carts and pulled a “Daniel” by putting a hole in the wall. Christian feels like he has two more kids, and let’s Geri take care of you however she wants. Your families are close too, always sitting together nervously in the viewing room. Kelly is basically your older sister and Penelope loves you like an aunt, so your excitement about their engagement is understandable.

Max proposed at the end of Abu Dhabi in 2024 and if Charles’ arm wasn’t around you, keeping you grounded, you would’ve been jumping up and down and screaming. You almost tackled her in the hug, the smile on both of your faces blinding. Penelope grabbed your hands and made you start dancing to the music blasting from the speakers with her, while the arene was booming with cheers. You geeked out the same way once the invitation was sent to you and let Kelly gush about the wedding all she wanted once you got your nails done together.

You and Kelly’s friendship started when complimented her jacket when you met her in the 2022 Monaco Race. She gave you the name of the place, but when you joked about not knowing French and having no idea how to get around the city, she offered to take you there herself if you were still around Monday afternoon. You went and had a really good time with the model, talking mostly about how different you two are and making fun of Max. At the next race she attended that year, you two went out for coffee Friday afternoon, and it quickly became a tradition after you went out together a couple more times.

You met Penelope soon after that and fell absolutely in love with her. You thought she was adorable and was so glad she seemed fond of you too, probably because of the candy you give her every time you meet. Your friendship continued to get stronger, leading to now, talking about your role in her wedding.

The event was not going to be small in any way, and Kelly really wanted someone she could trust to keep an eye on her daughter and keep her out of trouble when she couldn’t. Her best friends and family already had their own parts to play, and knowing how much you adored the young girl, she chose you.

The wedding was held at a beautiful venue in Monaco, and it couldn’t have gone better. You weren’t the only driver there, Daniel, Lando, and Charles were present and accompanying you. When you weren’t keeping Penelope occupied, you were with them, talking about Max and Kelly and dancing.

You smiled fondly as the couple when they stood at the altar and would be lying if your eyes were completely dry as you watched them take their first dance. The four of you took photos with the married couple, and you even have some of just you and Max and you and Kelly. Everyone had a great time; love was an amazing part of life, and you were happy to watch your best friend experience it.

Unfortunately, loss was also a part of life. And it nearly killed Max to watch you go through it.

Days before Round 10 of 2025, you got a call saying one of your closest friends, Luis, had been killed in a car crash.

Luis was a part of the friend group you had back home, and you had known him for years at that point. He was hilarious and caring, always making sure you knew he supported you no matter what. A member of the same friend group called you in tears, and it took everything in you not to break down as well.

It was Thursday, meaning you had media duties for hours. You almost left your driver's room to get May and ask her to cancel your responsibilities, but then you remembered that were supposed to meet your PR officer outside the garage in less than five minutes so she could escort you to the media pen. You talked to your friend as long as you could, promising to call back as soon as you finished, and hung up the phone to leave. You blinked back your tears as you met your officer and didn’t even bother putting on a smile as you passed your co-workers.

You met up with Max as you walked. “Hi- what’s wrong?” He immediately notices the frown on your face. “I’ll tell you after” You’d start crying if you talked about it now. You answer questions for what feels like an eternity, probably sounding like a robot, giving generic answers.

You were grateful when you were excused from a press conference and made a bee line for your driver’s room. You locked the door behind you as you grabbed your phone and called your friend back. She broke into tears as she told you the details of what happened, and you couldn’t help but join her. You sat on the floor, back against the couch as both of you cried over your friend. Sobs escaped your body faster than you could stop them and you prayed no one heard you.

You were proven wrong when you heard a knock against the door, and the voice of your teammate called out. “Y/n? Are you okay?” Max pauses, waiting for a response. “Let me in, Y/n, please”

You turned back to your phone. “I’m sorry, Max is at my door, I’ll call you back and we’ll talk” You told her this exact this thing hours ago and was frustrated you can’t spend more than a few minutes alone.

Wiping the tears off your cheeks, you unlocked the door. “Y/n, I heard you crying, what’s wrong?” Max put his hands on your shoulders. “I- I just found out my friend from home, Luis, died-” That’s all you manage before you have to cover your mouth to stop a cry from leaving.

“Oh, Y/n” Your best friend pulls you into a hug, holding your head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry” He repeats, rubbing your back. He brings you to sit down on the couch, an arm around your shoulder and a hand to wipe the tears falling from your cheeks. You sit with Max until you calm down a bit and are ready to talk.

“Luis, he was one you told me comes to the grand prix’s in your country, right?” You nod.

“My friend told me he was in a car crash this morning, on his way to work. I don’t know, Max, just, the fact that he died doing what I do for a living is just...” You trailed off, trying not to cry again.

“I’m sorry, Y/n, it’s not fair. Here, let’s go back to the hotel, you can just relax for the rest of the day”

“Yeah, yeah, we should go. Also, about tonight, can you tell everyone I’m feeling sick or something?”

You and Max were supposed to meet a few other drivers for dinner later, but that was the last thing you wanted to do. “Yeah of course. I’m going to get my stuff from my room and then we’ll leave, yeah?” He leaves and you pack up all your stuff before Max meets you in the hallway.

The trip back to your hotel was silent and Max leaves you with a hug before going to his own room. You were finally able to connect with your friends back home and talk about when you’d be able to see them next after you traveled home Sunday afternoon. You spent the rest of the day in your room, thinking and listening to music when you didn’t want to think anymore.

You didn’t feel any better the next morning, and just hoped to get through Free Practice 1 and 2 quickly. You didn’t smile as you walked through the paddock, keeping your sunglasses on and taking the quickest way to the Red Bull garage. You have headphones in as well, so everyone gets the message that you’re not up for conversation.

FP1 and FP2 go by quickly and as always, the Red Bull does well, and you come right behind Max in P2 both practices. You leave the same way you came in, walking quickly to avoid the press. Your fellow drivers are still around the paddock, and they still don’t know why you’ve been holed up in your hotel room for two days. You haven’t talked to Max much since yesterday, but when you have, you’re glad he doesn’t just look at you with pity and actually checks on you.

You talk with your friends about the funeral arrangements for Luis next week before you talk with his parents, two people that have been as supportive of you as their son has, making you cry again. You skip out on your dinner plans with May and your PR officer with apologies and promises to make it up to them and order room service.

You make yourself a little more approachable on Saturday morning but keep the sunglasses. You wave at your friends but don’t stop to talk. At this point, most of the drivers know something is seriously upsetting you. They watched your media day interviews and barely recognized the person in front of the microphone.

A few of them asked Max about you when they run into him, but your teammate doesn’t want to tell everybody something you might not be ready to share.

He is by far the most worried driver of them all. He’s your best friend and he’s never seen you like this before. Max knows how close you were to Luis; he’s used to hearing stories about the adventures you had when you went home for a few days and can only imagine how you’re feeling inside.

Nobody goes out Saturday night in preparation for tomorrow’s race and you’re glad to have more time by yourself. You take the sunglasses off and stop to talk to your friends on Sunday, the first time all race weekend.

Max walks with you through the paddock, letting you talk when you want to or be silent if you choose. You don’t visit his driver's room, but you make sure to give him a hug before you get into your respective cars, an unspoken ‘thank you’ for his support over the past few days.

The race cheers you up a bit, you go P1 and point at the sky as you stand on top of your car in front of the garages. When the cameras pan over to you, you make sure the top of your helmet is visible, where an R.I.P. Luis sticker is. You wish he could’ve been here to see you win, but you know he would’ve been proud of you.

Max brings you into a hug after he parks behind you in P3, and you’re reminded how grateful you are that he is your best friend.

2026- “We should be proud”

You and Max have accomplished a lot together throughout the past four years. Max is now a four-time world champion, winning 2021, 2022, 2023, and 2025. You beat him in 2024, and you’ve just beaten him to the 2026 title. You and Max have been almost tied with points every year since you’ve joined, so it usually comes down to the last few races to decide the winner. Beating Max wasn’t at all easy, and it didn’t get any less difficult to beat the rest of the grid.

Red Bull can no longer completely dominate as they did in the early 2020’s, but they still manage to top the other nine teams. Ferrari and Mercedes are the biggest rivalries, but a few other teams cause your cars a fair bit of trouble. Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri at Mclaren bring stress for the three big teams, as do Lance Stroll and Mick Schumacher at Aston Martin.

The partnering of Yuki Tsunoda and Daniel Ricciardo has brought Alpha Tauri up to the midfield and has allowed both drivers to stand on the podium multiple times. It’s made the last few years very exciting, and even though you love winning, you love seeing your friends succeed as well.

This year had been no different; You and Max had each won a fair number of races and had each stepped onto the podium multiple times. Ferrari and Mercedes had not made it any easier than previous years but still, by the time Abu Dhabi came around, Red Bull had a lead of 30 points over the second-place team, Mercedes. You were currently first for the Driver’s Championship, but Max was close behind with only a 19-point difference. If he won tonight’s race, he would become a five-time champion, and you’d have to wait until next year.

You tried to shove that thought out of your head with headphones. Your trainer just finished helping you warm up for the race start in an hour and you’re in your driver’s room. Usually, you’d be walking to Max’s room to chill out before drivers have to get into their cars for their formation laps, but you two had long come up with the agreement not to see each other before races that would determine the championship.

When it is time to start the formation lap, you go to the garage and instead of hugging your teammate like you usually do, you settle for a handshake and a nod. He’s your best friend, but also your closest rival. You start P2, Max beating you by half a second yesterday, and anxiously wait for the five red lights to come on.

“And it’s lights out and away we go in Abu Dhabi! Verstappen has a poor start, L/n takes advantage of it and tries to move in front of him and Y/n L/n is now leading this race but Max Verstappen is not far behind, the gap is less than a second, and Verstappen takes P1 back from L/n. It has been an exciting year in Formula 1, what better way to go out than a classic Red Bull battle?” David Croft commentates for the crowd.

It’s a great racing day for Formula 1; the weather is nice, and it looks like all twenty cars are going to last the 58 laps. As you continue the race in P2, trying to defend against Charles Leclerc behind you, you try to think of strategic ways to win the race. You don’t get very far, because you remember that Max is driving the same car as you, and by now, you’re as good as the Dutch man.

Your teammate takes a somewhat early pit stop and you’re able to gain a lead, but then you have to pit and get stuck in P6 behind Lance Stroll.

“Lap 35, Y/n L/n is leading in P1, Verstappen P2, Sainz P3, and Russell P4. Interesting lineup here, but the real fight is within Red Bull. We’re over halfway through this race and L/n and Verstappen have been trading places all day. There are not many options as to who will win this race, folks, but that doesn’t make it any easier to predict”

It’s Lap 50 and the excitement has winded down. It looks like everyone behind you and Max are going to stay the way they are currently, meaning you’ll be sharing a podium with Charles. Whether you’ll be standing on P1 or P2 you still don’t know. Max has made his way in front of you but you’re restless, gaining on him every possible moment, being only a few feet away from his rear wing on the straights.

You’re starting to get nervous now. This would not be your first World Championship, you had that moment in 2024, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t mean the world to you if you became a two-time world champion.

You think it’s your nerves that help you pick up on the fact that Max’s car locked up for just a second before going into the final turn. You think it’s your nerves that make your foot push through the gas pedal and help you get in front of your teammate. It’s Lap 51 and you’re in front of your teammate. You could win this. You could win this.

These words were like a mantra in your head, all the way until Lap 58, when you actually start to believe in yourself. The Dutch man behind you is relentless, getting so terrifyingly close to overtaking you, but never quite getting fully past. “Keep him at bay, Y/n” Your race engineer comes on over the radio. “Keep him at bay and it’s yours, Y/n”

And thirty seconds later, it is yours.

“And it’s Y/n L/n! Y/n L/n is the winner of Abu Dhabi 2026! Y/n L/n is the World Champion! Ladies and gentlemen, L/n is the Champion of 2026!” Crofty shouts and suddenly the only thing you can hear in your race engineer through your ears. "You've done it! You are the World Champion! The World Champion!”

“Holy shit, oh my god, holy-” Suddenly one of your arms is waving up and down because it’s the only way to express energy in your tiny car. You’re screaming, definitely making everyone down at the pit wall’s ear’s bleed. You feel tears in your eyes and don’t care because you were close to sobbing in 2024.

“Y/n, congratulations, you are officially a 2-time World Champion. We are so proud of you down here, congratulations” Christian’s voice comes over the radio next and you feel like you're floating through your cool-down lap.

You put one of your hands on your helmet as if you were covering your face and remember to wave to the crowd. You drive your car in front of the paddock where the 1st place sign is and get out of your seat as quickly as possible. You put your arms in the air and allow yourself to hear the roars of the crowd. You get down to run to your team, but you see Max first.

You know he just lost to you, and he probably is upset but he’s your best friend. Without hesitation, you run to him, and he meets you halfway to pull you into a hug. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m so proud of you. Oh my god, Y/n, I am so proud of you” Your teammate has to shout, even though your heads are right next to each other.

He unwraps his hands from around your waist as you both run to your team. His side of the garage has been so successful these past few years and it’s a win for Red Bull overall, so they cheer just as loud as everyone else, just glad to see you happy. You both jump up so you can be caught by the engineers and it’s just a mess of high fives and cheers.

You both finally pull off your helmets and balaclavas and turn to see each other’s grinning, flushed, faces. You hug each other again. “We should be so proud of ourselves, Y/n. I’m so happy for you” Max doesn’t lie to you, so you’re glad you don’t have to worry he feels otherwise. You both pick up your towels and water bottles before you have to give interviews for Sebastian Vettel.

He became like Nico Rosberg, coming back to the paddock, not as a driver, just as someone who likes to be involved in Formula 1 and has the right to. You were on the grid with him for two years before he retired, and even though you two have never been best friends, you like him, and he roots for you especially. “Before I ask any questions, congratulations” The German man pulls you into a hug. “Thanks Seb” You grin.

“Y/n, you’ve just accomplished something unbelievable in F1, and have ensured Red Bull go down in Formula 1 history. What’s going through your head?”

“It’s unbelievable. I mean, it was more unbelievable the first time, but doing it a second time, just feels incredible. I’m really happy to be a part of Red Bull, and I’m really happy I’m able to help them achieve bigger things” You smile as you give your answer.

“Well, we’re all happy for you, Y/n. Again, congratulations, you drove very well today” Sebastian shakes your hand and sends you off.

While Max steps forward, Charles comes to you. “Congratulations! I am so happy for you. You deserve this” The Monegasque brings you into a tight embrace. “I am so proud of you” He kisses you on the cheek before letting you go. “Thank you, Charles, congratulations to you too” Charles has finished third in the driver’s championship every year since 2024 and you’re happy he’s finally getting the car he deserves.

You go into the driver’s room where a camera and TV wait for you. “A four-time world champion and two-time world champion. We are the dream team, aren’t we?” Max grins at you as he takes a seat. “Definitely” you say as you look at the screen, watching your championship win as long as they let you.

2027- “An Outsider’s perspective”

It has been almost ten years since Drive to Survive premiered and by now, all the drivers on the grid are sick of Netflix’s bullshit. They made it seem like you either hated or were in love with half the grid, and somehow managed to make fake conversations about teammates and contracts. Almost all the drivers never went in for interviews anymore, but a certain email caught their attention.

One thing everyone had known for years; You and Max were best friends. Another thing that nobody had known until about a month ago; Max was not extending his contract with Red Bull to go past the 2028 season. The director of Drive to Survive saw this and thought about making it into a second-to-last season finale of the show. Max’s patience about his contract news had worn out quickly, and nobody has been updated about it in a week.

Everyone in the entire world has heard you and Max say that you two were just friends a million times, but that didn’t mean they weren’t curious to know if there was more going on. It was time for the rest of the grid’s opinion on it.

“So, Charles”

“Lando”

“Carlos”

“Daniel” The director asked the Red Bull drivers’ closest friends.

“What’s really going on between Max and Y/n?”

Charles lets out a small smile. Lando groans. “Seriously?” Carlos rolls his eyes. Daniel laughs.

“There is nothing going on. They are just friends” Charles is confident.

“Nothing! For god’s sake’s...” Lando’s annoyed

“I mean, I don’t think anything romantic is going on. I think they are just very good friends.” Carlos is honest.

“They’re married and they have three secret kids in Monaco” Daniel continues to laugh.

“So you don’t even think they’ve kissed before?” The director continues.

“No” Charles shrugs.

“Maybe. I’m close with both of them but I don’t think it’s any of our business”

“No one except them can know for real. I haven’t seen them kiss before, but I don’t know”

Daniel stops laughing “No but actually, they're not together. Trust me, I’ve spent a lot of time with the two of them. They’re not a couple.”

“You don’t think anything is behind those glances?”

“No”

“Like true love? No” Lando laughs.

“Well, it’s obvious that they love each other. You just said it, the meaning behind their looks, you cannot ignore. But I still don’t think they are in love”

Daniel smiles now. “There is definitely some love between them, in their looks. It’s pretty obvious, I’d say”

“Do you think, let’s say, in another life, they would’ve been together?”

Charles cannot deny this question. “Yes, I do. Not in this one, but in another life, they are definitely soulmates.”

“Yes, I do actually. In another life they are 100% in love and have been together since 2023, probably.”

“I think so, yes. In another life though, not in this lifetime” Carlos smiles.

“Oh yeah. In another life they probably are married and have three secret kids in Monaco”

“Why do you think? That they’re together in another life but not in this one?

“Because they are meant to be with different people”

“I don’t know. Some people might say Kelly, but, if they really wanted to be together, they wouldn't have let somebody else come between them. They just don’t love each other like that” Lando says.

“They are just not meant to be together, I guess” Carlos says.

“They don’t love each other like that. Obviously, they love each other in some way, but not the kind you have in a relationship”

What is one time you thought they were definitely a couple?”

“To me, it was always obvious that they were not. I know to a lot of people it is the opposite but for some reason I could just tell, they loved each other but only as friends.”

“I remember one summer break in 2024, when Daniel invited me, Max, and Y/n to spend some time in Australia at his farm with him. This was a few months after Y/n crashed in Monaco, by the way. I remember we were all on a beach together, and Y/n just kept pulling Max behind her, telling him to look at seashells and crabs and stuff like that. And he didn’t protest at all, no matter how much random beach crap Y/n handed him” Lando smiled. “I thought; ‘Max would never have the patience to let someone pull him around like that’ But he did, and I think it was because he was glad she wasn’t seriously hurt in that crash”

“I said it earlier. I don’t think I ever thought they were. Me and Y/n are very good friends and when I first asked, she told me they were not together, and I have not thought otherwise”

“There have been a few moments over the years at this point, where for some ridiculous reason, Max gets a huge wave of hate at a time and- well, Max has never been one to care what other people think of him, but some stuff really got to him, and I remember Y/n making a few posts on social media telling everyone to stop, and that the stuff they were saying to him was really disgusting and undeserved. She knew everyone would think she had some sort of feelings for Max after that- I did and they’re my best friends. But she did it anyway, multiple times. And Y/n thinks it’s really annoying when people say they’re a couple, so for her to do that... I thought they were 100% in love”

“Last question. What do you think makes Y/n and Max, Y/n and Max? What about them makes them so different than other driver friendships?”

“I think their similarities, I think that’s what started their friendship in the first place. Max has said he sees a lot of himself in Y/n and she joined Formula 1 and Red Bull when she was young, they both did. So, I think it’s that, their similar achievements and such, that helped them become such good friends” Charles answers.

“Their personalities, I’d say. They have similar senses of humor and- they're very different actually. They say opposites attract and I think that’s true for them. Max is a bit introverted, and Y/n is not at all. People think Max is too serious and if I had to add to that, I think Y/n makes him loosen up a bit” Lando states.

“I’d say their loyalty to each other. You know how when you were in school, and the teacher would say, ‘everyone chose a partner’ and you and your friend immediately look at each other? That’s Y/n and Max. They each have a lot of friends but at the end of the day, they’re only looking at each other” Carlos says

“Everything about them together just clicks. If you watch them interact, you can understand how comfortable they are around each other. If Y/n is buying food, she gets extra for Max. If you can’t find Y/n around the paddock, you start looking for Max because he knows better than you do. There’s no hesitation when they touch, whether it’s a hug or just a hand on the shoulder. It’s a combination of how long they’ve known each other and how well they know each other.” Daniel explains.

“Okay, cut!”

2028- “The End of Something Great”

You’ve known for longer than anyone else has. Not because he told you. Because you know him. You don’t know how to explain it, only that you’ve known for almost a year at this point that Max’s contract was ending and he was not going to renew it or look for another team. You think it’s something you’ve always known, since you first saw that Max’s contract was set to end at the end of 2028.

What you don’t know is how you feel about it. You’re happy for Max because he is leaving on his own terms, and as world champion. But you feel like crying once you realize you won’t see him as often anymore. You’ll be best friends always, you know that, but it won’t be the same. Not the same as when you’re driving right next to him, or as when you’re training together, or as when you’re eating breakfast together at hotels.

You’re driving to Red Bull Headquarters for the last time for the 2028 season when you’re thinking about this. You have to turn the radio on to stop yourself from tearing up. Red Bull’s media team is having you two do a ‘On the Sofa: Goodbye Max’ video before he leaves F1 forever and you’ve been dreading it. You’ve enjoyed every second of driving alongside Max Verstappen and you’d do it for another six years if you could.

You take a deep breath as you walk in with May and towards the showroom, where the sofa and your teammate await. The cameras are already rolling and you’re not even in frame yet. You know the people behind the camera want every moment of your goodbye.

You let out a small smile once your eyes meet. “Hi” You move to hug him. “Hi” He whispers back. “You ready?” “No” Another sad smile.

“Hello everyone. I’m Max Verstappen...”

“I’m Y/n L/n”

“And this is On the Sofa with Max and Y/n, for the last time” A laugh escapes your mouth and you put your head in your hands.

“I thought you were sad?”

“I am. I just laugh when I probably shouldn’t”

“Y/n” He gets right to it, knowing neither of you are in the mood to joke around before starting. Reading off the card in his hands, “What are three things you will miss most about me as a teammate?” You don’t even bother trying to be funny or careless.

“Um, filming videos for the channel, testing days were always fun because they let us talk to each other while we’re in our cars, and traveling together, I think” Max laughs. “Oh, testing days were never productive, I mean, at least not for us” You laugh along with him, thinking of the fond memories that have accumulated over the years.

“What has been your favorite video we’ve filmed over the years?”

“We’ve done so many I can’t pick just one, so I’ll say…I think the videos where we’re competing against each other. Like that one baseball game we did in Texas one year, and all those races we did on track, like the roller skates and the scooter one, those were fun because we always just ended up laughing”

“The ones where we’re against each other are definitely very fun” You’re both grinning now.

“What are two things that have changed, and two things that have stayed the same over the past six years- wow, six years. It’s been six years?”

“Oh my god we’re so old- you’re 31 and I’m 25. Jeez”

“Old? Six more years and you’ll be 31 too”

“Yeah and you’ll be 37” You snicker.

“Answer the question” Max rolls his eyes fondly.

“Fine. Two things that haven’t changed are the fact that you’re still wearing that fucking hat, and the fact that Red Bull has billions of dollars and refuses to by a more comfortable couch!”

“Yeah this couch sucks”

“Two things that have changed... Well, we’re both old-“

“Stop calling me old”

“and we’re both World Champions” You smile at the camera.

“Okay, Y/n, if you could choose your teammate for next year, who would you choose and why?”

You stop laughing. “I would choose you because I don’t want you to go” Another sad smile. The mood in the room changes. Max pulls you closer and into a hug. “I know” He says to you.

When you pull away, you try to hide the tears shining in your eyes and you’re surprised to see Max turning his head away too. “Y/n” He grabs another card to distract you two. “If you could relive one moment from the past six years, what moment would you choose?”

“I’d relive all of it if I could. I don’t regret a single second and I’d do it all again like that” You snap your fingers, and you don’t hide your face when the tears spring up again. The video is almost over and you both feel it.

“Y/n, if you had one wish right now, what would it be?” Everyone in the room knows the answer to this question and you don’t know why the marketing team chose today to come up with these questions. “I’d wish for you to stay” At that, a tear drips down your cheek and Max brings you into his arms. You freely let water drip down your face and are surprised when you feel a drop or two of water fall on to your shirt. You’ve never seen Max cry , you don’t think anyone has, but for this moment he lets his emotions overpower his pride and shed a few tears.

“Oh god I haven’t cried in a while” You let out a weak laugh when you pull away. “Me either” And then you're both looking somberly at each other, feeling too much to say.

“The last thing we’re going to do is helmet swap” He breaks the silence as you both pull your written-on helmets out from behind the couch. You decided to give Max the helmet you were wearing when you won your second World Championship. Max hands you the helmet he was wearing a few weeks ago, the one he was wearing when he won his fifth and final World Championship. You smile before reading the paragraph written on the side.

“Y/n, when I met you at the factory all those years ago, I did not expect you to become the person you are to me today. You are my best friend, my supporter, and my confidant, and I don’t know where I’d be without you. We’ve made so much history together, and I hope you go on to make some more. Never stop driving, I wish you the best. Your teammate, Max Verstappen”

You hug Max before he can see your shining eyes. “Thank you for everything” He whispers. You both stand up once you pull away but wrap your arms around each other’s shoulders once you do. “I’m saying all my proper goodbyes to everyone later, but I’ll give the gist of it now” The Dutch man looks at the camera. “Red Bull, thank you for everything you’ve done for me. It’s been an incredible past few years. And I don’t say it much but thank you to all my fans. I’m so grateful I’ve been able to race in F1 for so long, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. The End. Goodbye!” Max waves to the camera and you join. Everyone behind the camera cheers. You and Max hug for the last time as teammates and you wish time would stop right there. “The end” He says. “The End”

[coolnonsenseworld]

(to know more about the story and the calendar on pre-order check out previous posts!)

July is Lance's birthday and they all take him to the sea just to frolic around. They end up doing way too many tricks in the waves and rolling through the sand. When everyone else is busy figuring out if they should wait until sundown to roll out or go back now, Keith and Lance sit by the waves, talking. That’s when Keith takes out a ring. He tells Lance can take it without promising anything, he just thought that for Lance's birthday Keith can offer him being there for him, giving him whatever he needs - and he could keep the ring to remember him by, to be sure he is always accepted and protected by him, that they are each other’s. To make it even less pressuring, it’s not a shiny cute engagement ring, but just a simple one, like promise rings should be. Lance is so touched and surprised, he lacks words and just bulldozes Keith into sand.

"Is it a yes?!" yells Shiro from the sidelines and Keith just "okays" from the ground, before grappling around with Lance.

There is both a dog whistle and a disappointed awwing at their PDA, but their companions just mostly laugh it off. Allura still watches them, shielding her eyes from the sun, before murmuring “they always remind me of the sexual tension between me and an oncoming train.”

Everyone bursts out laughing.

[aka-indulgence]

Man of the Hour

Decided to make a lil snippet of that J&H idea…

Dr. Sans Aster has been gone for a concerning amount of time, so you decide to pay him a visit (only because you’re a good neighbour.) Instead, you see a face you hadn’t hoped to meet.

——————

It was a miserable night. You tuck your coat tighter around you as you approach the Aster Manor. It looks so welcoming during the day, but at night… it looks haunted, almost. You wonder how Sans likes living here.

It’s been a while since you’ve seen the good doctor. Usually you take a detour to or from the morning market, passing by his residence, and calling up to him in his room on the 2nd floor. After a few times, usually you’d be greeted by the window opening and the skeleton leaning out. Sometimes he’d appear from his labroom window, after an overnight bout of unknown experiments. (The monster kept much to himself, and in a roundabout way instead made him more popular.) For the past few days, however, the window has remained shut, and you haven’t heard any sound of activity from the upper floors.

You would’ve asked others but after a conversation with a friend,

“You talk about Sans a lot. Do you have a thing for him?”

You’ve decided against making your infatuation with the doctor too obvious.

Nevertheless, your morning conversations with him has been a comforting consistency that you miss severely. You’ve tried ignoring it, but today you caved. After another morning of no response, you decided to visit the abode after sundown- if the doctor was busy during the day, surely he’d be resting by now?

You walk up to the dimly lit door and reach for the knocker.

Thunk

Thunk

Thunk

 … You didn’t have to wait long before you hear what sounds like smart shoes approaching the door on the other side. You get excited, gripping your coat.

But when the door opens, it isn’t Sans that answers the door.

A deer monster looks at you, his outfit that of a formal servant’s.

“Yes?”

You try not to show your disappointment. But surely… this didn’t mean Sans was absent.

“Good evening, sir… I’m sorry to have bothered you this late at night, but, is Dr. Sans home?”

“Dr. Aster?”

You mentally smack your face- you can’t seem too intimate with him. Your friends would tease you while other people would think you’re being disrespectful.

“I’m sorry, miss. The doctor has been away from home for three days now.”

“Th… three?” Concern floods your voice. “Did- did he tell you where he went?”

“I’m afraid not. The doctor goes on many excursions, often without telling his servants. Just last month he traveled for a week before returning.”

“A week…?”

“He returned every morning. But he informed us only to look for him if he’s been gone for more than a month.”

A month?! That’s even worse than you thought!

He could disappear for a whole month…?

“What is he doing?”

“He does not tell us, miss.”

You frown. “So I assume he isn’t here tonight?”

“No. I’m sorry I could not be of more help to you,”

You sigh. “That’s alright. At least I know a bit more about what he’s doing. Thank you for the information.”

The deer monster bows and closes the door as you walk out of the yard.

You have a bad feeling about this. Not to mention the nasty rumors around town…

There was a new face in town. One unwelcomed by everyone. A man named Horruer just… appeared one day. You’ve never met the man, but you’ve heard nothing good about him. There were rumors of him having ties to Sans, though the story varied from person to person. Your friend believed in the rumor of him blackmailing the doctor.

“He has servants and a house, and I think Dr. Aster funds him..? That sounds highly suspicious to me.”

She said he had a frightening appearance, but hard to describe. Just that he was also a skeleton monster. Some people thought he might be an estranged family member. You don’t know what Sans has to say about it all, though. You hoped Sans was safe, that he didn’t owe the man any favors.

You were deep in your thoughts. Missing his smile, how his soft eyelights would glow when he laughed during the few times you met the doctor out of home, drinking tea together. He was such a smart man… a conversationist, liked by all. His topics were engaging, and he was surprisingly humorful.

Would it be too hopeful to imagine him liking you back..?

Distracted, you don’t register the large body in front of you, and crash into a wall of a man, and stumble forwards.

Before you could mutter apologies, the man starts snarling, a primal sound.

“idiot- don’t you use your eyes when you-?!”

You startle, standing at attention after you turn around. What you see isn’t a face, but a chest. You swallow before you bring your eyes up to see… a new, but known face.

A big red eye is looking down at you. You watch the pupil in its center shrink into a pinprick, edges sharpening. You’re frozen under his stare- despite never having seen him, it’s obvious who this stranger was.

Mr. Horruer.

He was maybe twice your size, in height and width. Almost as big as the large front doors of Sans’ manor. His shoulders were broad, and so was his chest. He was built like a fortress of bones. Though he wore proper clothing, he didn’t look the part. His outer coat was unbuttoned and lopsided. His waistcoat covered more, but the top and middle were unbuttoned. His tie was undone, draped under his collar. His coat didn’t seem old, but it was crinkled.

His teeth was jagged- you aren’t sure if they were sharp canines or if they were simply messy. His eyesockets were mismatched, unlike Sans’. One socket housed the large red orb that peered down at you, while the other was dead, devoid of light. Your eyes trailed up to his head, seeing something peek out of his hat…

The monster gasped, teeth becoming set as he holds it down, covering whatever it was. You flinched- you weren’t thinking. You’ve heard that Mr. Horruer was neurotic about never being seen without his hat. You heard of Mr. Enfield having a rough bump with the skeleton and almost knocking his hat off- the altercation almost turned violent.

You felt your fingers grow cold. The man was more terrifying than what you’ve heard the townsfolk have said. You’ve met many monsters in this town but Horruer was truly monstrous. Just looking at him made your spine tingle unpleasantly, like there was instinctual in you that told you this man was dangerous.

You hear a crack, and see his bony hands turned to fists beside him, and his breathing grow louder, every breath causing his upper body to rise and fall. His teeth was still set, and his eye hadn’t moved.

Your body screamed- you were in danger.

“I-I’m so sorry. I di-didn’t see anything. So sorry, Mr. Horruer,” you stuttered, taking a few frightful paces back before you turned on your heel and ran home.

It was crass, clumsy, impolite, and frankly, unladylike. But you didn’t want to know what Horruer could do with his hands, and you didn’t want to find out if the rumors of his aberrant ‘hobbies’ were true or not.

He looked like he was itching to kill me.

You felt something red burning a hole into your back as you fled.

…

…

…….

“... (y/n).”

[bandgie]

Ghost in the Night

Ghostface!Jeongin x fem!reader

AU 1 | AU 2

synopsis: Keep your doors locks, shut your windows, don't go outside after sundown. Rules were quickly put in place when a killer, known as 'Ghostface,' began terrorizing your city. You listened to all these rules until finals night, but still, there's no way in hell Ghostface could get to you. Right?

warnings: MDNI 18+, DUBCON/NONCON, breaking an entry, implied kidnapping, PIV, forced oral (m! receiving), face slapping, blood/murder, face fucking, slight pain during sex (no prep) crying/begging, cumming inside, degrading words (slut, bitch, etc), not proofread,

4.1k words shheesshhh

Another college student was found dead. Their throat slashed along with their stomach. The police found them in their apartment with the words 'COME FIND ME' smeared on the walls with blood. The story along made you queasy. This killer, who the town nicknamed Ghostface, has been on a spree for about two weeks now. It really happened out of the blue. One day, you're attending college parties, and the next, you're too scared to even shop for necessities.

Rumors began to speculate about who it could be. Many people thought it was the rival university, some thought it was the son of the dean who couldn't get into the school, most thought it was just a psycho. The question remained though, why did Ghostface only go after college students?

Your friends dropped out of college upon hearing the news. They urged you to do the same, but you were so close to graduating that you decided to push through. After all, most of the students attacked were sorority or frats, you weren't either of them. If you kept your head down, didn't attend the stupid parties students kept throwing because they liked the thrill, you would be fine.

So here you were, on the second floor of the library late at night. You're thankful your library had open hours until midnight, it was great for last minute studying. The librarian was very friendly, even offering to drive you home. "I hear about what's been happening," she tells you as she rubs her trails hands.

You shake your head, "Thank you for your concern. I really don't wanna waste your time, I'll be fine." She eyes you cautiously, as if hoping you'd second guess yourself and take her offer. When you don't, she sighs. "Fine, deary. You be safe out there." You nod your head and watch her descend back to her from post.

-

A few hours pass before you decide to head home, your brain fried from all the studying. You wave the librarian a goodbye and exit the doors, greeted with the moon and stars in the sky. Had there not been a killer loose, you would have loved to admire the view. It's a blood moon tonight, and you pray that it's a good omen.

While walking back to your dorm, you couldn't help but hear music blasting. You pass one of the frat dorms, watching as people passed out in the front lawns and other vomiting. You grimaced at the sight. How could they party like this when people were being brutally murdered? You ignored their hollers and whistles to continue on your path.

"Hey!" One of them shouts at you. You ignore it, walking faster to get to your safe place. "Hey! I'm calling you!" Still, you maintain your pace. If you keep walking fast enough, you'll be able to-

"Damn girl! I'm tryna talk to you," the guy had caught up to you. He held you by your upper arms stinking of booze. You turned to face him in an attempt to intimidate him, "I'm not interested." You try your best to sneer, but he only laughs. "Never said I wanted you to be. I was just gonna say you shouldn't be walking all alone." His ominous statement send chills down your spine.

"I appreciate you tryna be my hero, but like I said, I'm not interested." You sternness throws him off, and he quickly lets go of your arm. "Bitch," he mumbles, "I was just tryna help." You don't bother replying, quickly turning around to escape his presence. You can't trust anyone, you can't take your chances.

You make a sharp turn, hoping that you're out of his sight. It doesn't take long to hear the familiar steps behind you. Rather than ignoring him this time, you turn around quickly to confront him. "Didn't you fucking hear me? I said-" You stop yourself. You were fully excepting to see his drunk ass behind you, but instead your faced with nothing.

You shiver, whipping back around to scurry home. It was just the wind, you think. You can feel your heartbeat in your chest, feel the blood that pumps in your veins. No no no, calm down. You're fine. There's nothing here. Even while you try to relax your heartbeat, you start hearing the footsteps again.

Too scared to turn around, you run. Maybe there's nothing behind you at all. Maybe you're running like a manic only scaring yourself more. It doesn't matter though, you're filled with too much fear to think rationally.

Another turn, and you can see your dorm complex in the distance. You stop running as fast, convinced that you're just overreacting. You do keep a fast walk though, still unsure if you could really walk so carelessly. Your gaze is up in the sky, watching how the moon gets bigger and bigger.

The sky provides a good amount of light as you finally make your way to the front door as your house. You reach for your keys only to see that your front door is already open. Your eyebrows raise, unsure if your roommate just got home and forgot to close the door. You push it open, taking a peek. The lights are off and it's quiet. Perhaps they just forgot and went to sleep.

You walk in and flick on the light, setting your bag down. It's not until your eyes are better adjusted in the lighting that you see your roommate. She's hunched over, limp on the couch as if she was waiting for you. You gasp at her, jumping slightly.

"Oh my god!" You breathe. "Jesus Christ you scared the shit outta me." You take steps towards her waiting for her response. There is none. "Hey, girl you good?" You reach out to grasp her shoulder and the little contact makes her fall on the ground. It's then that you see the blood that pool on the couch, how easily her head lolls to the side.

You fall to the ground with her, flipping her around to see a giant slash across her neck. Her eyes are wide with fear, her mouth open as if she was screaming. You can't help but try to shake her despite it being in vain, tears falling down your face. You're so caught up in your mourning that you don't hear the footsteps that come towards you.

A shadow hovers over you, and you turn around to see the familiar descriptions you've seen in the news. A black cloak, gloved hands, a white mask with a permanent open mouth. You cry even harder upon the sight. A part of you doesn't think it's real, that it's all just a sick dream you're having. Even as the killer kneels down towards you to stare at your face, you pray it's just a nightmare.

"I had to come pretty quick, you were almost home," it speaks. You don't really register what he's saying. He straightens back up, "You know, I also killed that dude back there that grabbed you. Guys like that piss me off. They have no respect for personal space ya know what I mean?" Perhaps he said that as a joke, considering this man literally killed your roommate mere moments ago.

"Please," your voice is horse and thick with emotion. "I don't want-want to die." You start sobbing, bloody hands cradling your face in an attempt to comfort yourself. The masked man cocks his head to side, seemingly intrigued by your cries. "You think I'm gonna kill you?" He doesn't wait for an answer, yanking your head up by your hair. You whimper and nod, vision blurry with tears.

You try begging more, but all that comes out are garbles sentences and pathetic wails. Ghostface is rather enjoying the show, smiling behind his mask. "You've got a good crying face. Keep begging," his grip tightens on your hair. You do, and honestly he didn't even need to ask. In the midst of your sobs, you can feel the cold edge of something sharp against your throat. You feel it slowly dig into your neck, but not hard enough to break the skin.

The contact makes you freeze up, eyes wide with absolute terror. Ghostface literally moans at the sight. "Fuck, I love that look." He makes the knife dances around your neck, staring at how your pupils dilate. Pleasurable shivers travel his body, and he can feel the blood traveling to his cock. Killing you now would be a waste, he should at least have some fun first.

He removes the knife from your neck throws it across the room. You jump at the clattering noise, almost missing how he uses his now free hand to yank his pants down. On your knees, your face-to-dick with his half hard on. You almost throw up at the realization, eyes staring into the masks eyes pleading.

He shoves his crotch closer to your face, smearing his cock on your face. You keep your mouth closed, determined to keep your dignity intact. Ghostface doesn't like this, and pulls your hair back so hard you think you'll go bald. "You think this is a fucking game?" He forces you to look at him while he speaks. "You wanna end up like your bitch roommate? Huh?" You shake your head as you sob.

"That's what I fuckin' thought, get to work slut."

You don't think you can manage to even keep your mouth open with how violently your sobbing, but Ghostface doesn't wait for you to open up all the way. He quickly shoves his half hard in your mouth. You wrap your lips around it, trying your best not to gag. A part of you thinks about biting down on him, and he must see a glint in your eyes because he yanks your face off him.

The force of his pull makes you cry out, but he responds by slapping you hard across the face with his free hand. Pain surges in your face, and you can't help the continuous tears that fall. "If you fucking bite me, I'll make you choke on your own insides," he threatens. If it wasn't for the corpse of your roommate mere feet away, you would still believe him because of the look in his eye.

"I won't!" You speak through your cries. "I promise I promise just please don't hurt me." Ghostface smiles under his mask, giving your cheeks three more light slaps before shoving your face back on his cock. Determined to prove your life is worthy, you stick your tongue out to lick his underside. You can tell he surprised by the way his breath hitches.

You let your lips run over his length along with your tongue. Salvia quickly begins to pool in your mouth, and you spit on his dick. You carefully reach your hands up, scared that he might slap you again. You can tell he's watching with judgement as you grab the base of his cock with one of your hands. Your other one steads on your thigh as you let your mouth fall open.

Working in one fluid motion, you bob your head to the speed of your hand. His cock is smooth, save for the pulsating of his veins. He's completely hard now, and it's pretty difficult to get more than half his girth between your lips. Your hands become sticky with precum and spit. You can feel how your drool dibbles down your cheeks as you continue to take him in your mouth.

Now there's two hands in your hair, and he's started pull you closer and closer to him. A particular thrust of his hips has you gagging, nearly coughing his cock out. He doesn't let you pull him out, instead forcing you to keep a couple inches in. You're making noises that both sound like moaning and suffocating, and it turns him on a lot more than he'd like to admit.

Watching you try your best to suck his cock like your life depends on it makes him feel alive because, well, your life does depend on it. You doe eyes wide with fear and concentration amuses him, makes him feel almost bad for the fact that he's still going to kill you when you're done. Not to mention your lips, how swollen and red they are from pleasuring him.

A part of him wishes he could take his mask off, make you look him in the eyes rather than his mask. The clear view could possible make him cum quickly in your mouth. Instead, Ghostface makes do with your current state. You're dripping in him and your own liquids, hands feverishly moving easily in the slobber.

All you and him can hear are your choked sobs, wet sucking, and the occasional movement of his hips hitting your face. To both of your shock, you find yourself getting aroused by his cock in your mouth. The fear in your stomach slowly begins to bubble into desire. Your panties getting slightly damp. You can't stop yourself as you clench you thighs together to get some friction.

You try to convince yourself that it's normal to get like this in a life or death situation. There's been cases of people's brain getting so scared that it gets sexually stimulated. You pray that this is the case now because you're starting to think how pretty this man's moans is. He sounds breathy, needy, desperate. Like he hasn't gotten much action in a while, or at least not to this extent.

A self-defense mechanism, you try to tell yourself as your pussy begins to seep through your underwear.

Ghostface suddenly thrusts his hips into your face, his cock hitting your throat deep. You throat contracts around him, and the pressure has him pulsing. You think you might suffocate with how he just keep shoving his dick into your mouth without caring how you claw at his thighs. Then he moans, almost sings his groans as he shoots his cum down your throat.

If you thought you were suffocating then, you must be dying now. His hot cum chokes you and slightly trickles down your chin. Your wide eyes have now rolled to the back of your head, and your chest began burning from lack of oxygen. Perhaps this is how you go out, dead by dick.

Just before you can feel yourself lose consciousness, he pulls away. You gasp and cough for air, hands grabbing your throat. Ghostface takes a few steps back as if he was surprised by his own orgasm. You heave, lungs burning from the intake of fresh air. Before you have the chance to fully recover, he pulls you up by the back of you head and harshly throws you on the couch. You hate how your shirt begins to grow damp with your roommate's blood, but you try to persuade yourself that it's just sweat.

Ghostface is between your legs in a matter of seconds, lifting up your skirt to expose your underwear.

You're still trying to catch your breath as your hands aimlessly attempt to push him off. You hear him snicker, gripping your thighs tightly to pull them apart. He sighs dreamily, "You're so wet baby. I can't tell if you're that turned on from sucking my cock or if you're so scared you pissed yourself."

Shame overtakes you, and you fight even harder to push him away. He only laughs at your attempts, releasing you for just a second to wrap his hands around his throat. Your finger try to pry him off, but all he does it squeeze harder. You can feel your face turning read, the familiar sensation of suffocating returning.

"I thought you would have learned to be nicer to me by now," he tsks. "Be a good girl and let me fuck you. I would rather like to fuck this pussy warm and alive." You can't verbally answer him since he's crushing your windpipe, so you meekly nod. He released your throat just before your vision went fully dark.

His gloves hands trail over your body, cupping at your breasts before continuing on their way down. You're scared that moving would make you faint, so you stay still as he explores your body. You can feel the warmth of his hands through the latex. How strong his fingers are as they reopen your legs. He rubs a thumb on your clothed pussy, keeping on hand on your abdomen.

Then, he does something even he knows he shouldn't do; Takes off his mask. If you weren't so oxygen-deprived, you could probably see his clearly. All you can make out is his dark hair, thick eyebrows, full lips. His specific features are a little hazy, but you can see enough to know that despite your better judgment, he's not bad looking at all.

He throws the mask onto your face, blocking your vision. "Don't take it off," he commands. "Take that mask off and I'll rip your throat out with my hands." You nod as shivers run down your body, "I won't." Those are all the words he needs to heat before moving your under to the side. The sight of your aroused clit has his breath caught in his throat, he's never seen anything as beautiful.

"Oh baby," he practically moans. His fingers feel a little uncomfortable as he plays with your lower lips, but it's not painful. He smears your wetness all over your pussy and thighs. Ghostface is amazed at how much your pussy was drooling for him. Maybe you're sick too, just like him.

Your cunt feels cold when he withdraws his hand from you, and your body reactively chases his touch. You hate how you hear him chuckle at your actions. He takes his finger and shoves it into his mouth, curious about your taste. You can't see too clear, but from the way his eyebrows go up, he likes what he ate.

"I'd kill to eat your pussy," he compliments. "Don't have the time to though, maybe next time."

No prep, no lube, just this man precisely angling his cock to your soppy entrance. You're whimpering quietly, little sounds as if to say please don't when it only entices him more. He lets out a soft groan when his tip enters your soft walls. You try to close your legs, but now with two hands gripping the back of your thighs, you really don't have a choice.

He pushes in, and you use both your hand to cover your mouth. He has more length than girth, so it feels never ending as he slides in. It's slightly painful at first, but you find yourself feeling satisfying full. Your assaulter can't fit himself all the way since you're too tight, but it's enough for him to rock his hips.

There's no warm up to his strokes, and your thrown in forced pleasure all too quickly. The feeling of his sliding in and out, how he manages to get deeper and deeper each time, the bruising grip on your thighs. Now you're covering your mouth to suppress your moans rather than cries. Even though, he can still hear how you squeak and groan as he pounds into you.

He watches as your breasts bounce from underneath your shirt, the way your body completely shifts every time he thrusts into you. You can say you want him to stop all you want, but he can feel how inviting your pussy has gotten. Almost begging in to stay inside, to pump you full of his cum.

Now he meets you at the hilt, his pelvis slapping against your ass. It's getting hard to breath under his mesh mask, but you don't dare to take it off. You should be ashamed with how you look up at him, practically admiring his expressions and how he groans. From what you can see, his mouth is fallen open as he moans carelessly. Like he didn't just make you take his cock, like he didn't just kill your roommate without remorse.

The pain is completely gone, and you find yourself wondering how you could have been in pain to begin with. He's so good with his cock, like he knows where in your cunt you like it. His hands stay at your thighs, but you wish he could use his gloves fingers to rub your clit. You might've been gripping his by his broad shoulders if you weren't too busy quieting yourself.

Even without the stimulation on your lower lips, you can feel your stomach tightening. The warm orgasm slowly collecting in your abdomen. You let your legs fall open even more, eager for him to drive deeper into you. He accepts happily, laughing maniacally. "God fuck, I knew you were a fucking slut. Putting your nose in a book, acting like a good little girl when you're just as sick as me."

'W-What?" You can't stop from questioning him. Has he been watching you this whole time?

You don't think he's going to answer you with how hard he's driving his hips into you, but he does. "The library. You- ngh fuck!- rather be a fucking loser than party. That scared of me huh?" He cackles. "So scared that you take my fat cock." He stops talking for a few beats to focus on fucking you.

"Aw shit, I'm gonna cum inside you." A statement, not a request. His thrusts become sloppy, aggressive. You cam feel his tip in your throat with how deep he is, and you lose your composure. One of your hands whisk down to rub your aching clit. The movement startles him for a second, but then he smiles once he realizes.

You're despicable. You should feel huge amounts of disgrace as you finish on his cock, but you don't. Instead you feel bliss with your walls squeezing around him. The sudden pressure of your pussy makes him whimper, then cum right after. He's so warm, so lively that you forget that he's a serial killer.

He gives you a few more deep strokes to ride out his high, making you tremble. Your legs shake as he slowly pulls out, but his grip on your legs in firm. He watches as his and your cum oozes out, like blood from a gash. He moans at the sight, feeling his softening cock twitch.

You're breathing heavily under him, still whimpering from the aftershocks. The post nut has not hit yet, and you're tying to relish in his body warmth. If you close your eyes, you can imagine that he's just a hook up. You can tell yourself that you'll get Plan B after this, that you'll take a shower and go to sleep. And when you wake up in the morning, it'll be like nothing happened.

That's not true though, and your fantasy is quickly shut down when his hands wrap around your neck. You gasp at the feeling, your weak hands clawing at his wrists. You both know your fighting is in vain, he was going to kill you regardless of what you did. Tears spring your eyes as you come to terms with your fate. So much for graduating on time.

Maybe it's your tears that have an effect on time. Maybe it's the fact that your pussy is still dripping with him, but Ghostface is having a change of heart. He uses one hand to rip the mask off your face to look into your eyes. It's his favorite part when taking someone's life. Yours though, are not the same. Yes he can see the sadness, the pain, but he can see something he hasn't seen before: Acceptance.

With the mask off, you're able to see his face clearly. He looks like he's thinking with the gentle creases on his forehead. His nose is scrunches and his eyebrows furrowed, and you can't help but think he's..."Cute."

It's the last thing I.N hears you say before you pass out, face turning a purple color. He quickly releases his grip on you, pressing a finger under your chin to feel for a pulse. When he feels it, he sighs in relief. Killing you was on his list since he first saw you weeks ago at the library. You did party, he's seen you before. Yet, watching you turn into a hermit because of him was romantic. He loves having that much power over people, over you.

I.N knows better than to play with his food, but he might make an exception this time. After all, he does have a spare room waiting to be used.

a/n: this took a few days and I feel like I could have done better but here ya go, feeback is appreciated update: au part here!

[singingcicadas]

Realized that even though it's a shame that there wasn’t much Drift/Megatron interaction in the story, we still got a fairly detailed one-sided account of Drift’s opinion.

Because this is in no way an accurate assessment of the mentality of the crew members on Necroworld. Drift's either doing some really bullshit armchair psychology or he's projecting his own feelings and assuming that they're shared by everyone else.

Once you break everyone down individually you can see that Drift’s theory applies to very few people:

Rodimus and Minimus have sort of an ambiguous friendship going on with Megatron. Rodimus literally chose to save his life when he could have let Megatron explode with Tarn. Minimus immediately proceeded to give himself congnitive dissonance b/c he thought Megatron betrayed them by running away.

Nautica Velocity Cyclonus Tailgate Ten have no preexisting history against Megatron.

Nautica has more Other Problems than to pay attention to Megatron.

Velocity’s conversation with Megatron after the psychological attack was nothing but caring and friendly. Megatron even felt comfortable enough to admit to her that he was happy. She and Nautica are amongst the few people who sees Megatron as a person first, before his deeds.

Cyclonus might even admire him a little with the romanticized way he talks about the Decepticon ideology.

Tailgate's knowledge about Megatron's past comes entirely from datapackets and documentaries. And his response to that kind of threat level is to pull a gun on him and then try to shadowplay the evilness out. Point is, Tailgate's method to dealing with threats is to be very hands-on, especially after he got his spark spasm superpowers. His way of coping is definitely not brainwashing himself into thinking 'he's not a threat' and being unconsciously nervous all the time.

Whirl hates Megatron with a passion but he also saved Megatron in the time travel. He views Megatron as less of a threat than the functionists.

Nightbeat doesn’t care about anything other than his mysteries; his response to threat of imminent demise at sundown is to go exploring.

Rung’s… Rung. He’s forgiving and compassionate, and also a professional therapist who should be capable of employing healthy rational methods to cope with Megatron being in his life.

Rewind, like Nautica, has a whole slew of Other Problems, I'm sure Megatron's not a very big priority right now.

Skids is dead.

That only leaves like three people unaccounted for and they’re all branded Megatron sympathizers for a reason: they all said no to Getaway when he asked if they were pro ‘mutiny and kick Megatron off the ship.’

Drift's only been back for seven days, even if he got filled in with everything that happened since, he's still in no position to be making that kind of assessment. He doesn't have the context. He wasn't there when Megatron was captain of the ship. He didn't even meet Nautica Velocity and Nightbeat before he left, he has no idea what they're like or what they think of Megatron. Even Rewind's not the same one from before. (Add: he also didn't know Ultra Magnus was actually Minimus in a suit)

Most importantly his entire response in the second two panels is the complete opposite of Ratchet's original question. Ratchet's question was "Is it me or is everyone a little skittish?" Skittish. as in nervous. uneasy. jumpy. Drift's like "Megatron's gone so they can relax." But skittish is the opposite of relaxing? and they only started being skittish after Megatron left? He's the only one to bring up Megatron in this?

Rodimus' reasoning in the first panel (sans Rodpod) makes much more sense.

TL;DR: Drift's nervous around his old boss and can only relax after Megatron's gone, so he assumes that everyone else must feel the same way too. Everyone else: not really?