#Window Fan with Remote Control

[coldmilkchoices]

ceiling fans should not be fucking remote operated

[tarosunshine]

ʚ STORM

genre fluff 𖹭 warning none ﹗ pairing boyfriend OT7 x fem reader

— You two when a storm begins.

─── SHOTARO 𓂂 ׄ

Exactly 4 minutes ago, the rain had started. You heard the thunder seconds later, so you already knew what that meant. Shotaro appeared before you and just looked at you before approaching and leaning on the couch you were in. He hugged you around the waist and rested his head on your lap, sighing. You just let him do that and put your hand on the top of his head.

“I knew you would come any minute.” You told him as you began to pet his head. You heard him giggle and then tighten his grip on you a little, rubbing his face affectionately.

─── EUNSEOK 𓂂 ׄ

The storm had started about 20 minutes ago, and apparently, there was more and more wind. You could hear the loud drops hitting the window, but you also heard the loud sigh, or rather complain, of your boyfriend on the other side of the room. You looked at him. “What’s wrong?” He looked at you back and held up his cell phone, showing it to you. “There is no wifi.” Was the only thing he said, and then he left the device somewhere while he shuffled over to you. You smiled at his attitude, and he sat next to you, then lay down and placed you on top of his chest. You shook your head, giggling as you rested on him.

“Let's stay like this.” He whispered as he rested his head on yours.

─── SUNGCHAN 𓂂 ׄ

You called your boyfriend on the phone, since you were worried because the news had said that a strong storm was coming. He said he would arrive in 15 minutes, but for some reason, you were restless. Storms weren't something you liked too much, especially if Sungchan was driving. Not that he could see very well in the rain or anyone.

A few minutes later, you heard the noise of the car outside the house, so you went to open the door and saw him approaching, soaked, loosening his tie. You looked at him with a smile and gave him space to enter. “Hey, princess.” He kissed you as he closed the door behind him.

─── WONBIN 𓂂 ׄ

Your boyfriend was someone who wasn't a big fan of storms. It was something that made him a little... nervous. So the best you could do was hug him and stroke his hair.

You were lying in bed, and after hearing thunder outside, you looked at the bedroom door waiting for your boyfriend, and that's how it was. He walked towards you with a small smile and climbed onto the bed. You opened your arms, and he snuggled into them, enjoying the warmth. “Stroke my hair…” he asked in a whisper, causing you to laugh. You obeyed him.

─── SEUNGHAN 𓂂 ׄ

You saw the drops of water fall on his forehead, wet hair, and red nose. You looked at him with your arms crossed. He smiled, trying to appease the summons. “I told you, Seunghan.” You said to him, as you grabbed a small towel and placed it over his head. He took it and started drying himself off as he followed behind you. You sat on the couch, and he sat next to you, smiling, resting his chin on your shoulder.

Seunghan had insisted on going for a jog despite you telling him that rain had been forecast. You were worried, but he's so hard-headed that he ended up going the same way.

So now he was looking at you with puppy ​​eyes while he repeated your name over and over again. “C'mon babe, don't be mad at me.” You looked at him, holding your smile. You couldn't resist him. “First go take a bath before you get sick.” You caressed his cheek as you looked at him. He just nodded, and half an hour later, he returned to your side, resting his head on your shoulder again.

─── SOHEE 𓂂 ׄ

The rain could be heard outside, and you felt the aroma of chocolate through the house. Sohee had decided to make a little for both of you. He just told you to wait for him on the couch until he finished.

“Here you go.” He handed you the hot cup with a smile, and he sat next to you as he grabbed the remote control. You kissed his cheek in gratitude and then took a sip, enjoying the sweet taste.

Once you two decided on which movie to put on, you snuggled up next to each other.

─── ANTON 𓂂 ׄ

When Anton heard the thunder outside, he looked in your direction. And came to hug you as soon as he saw you jump. He laughed a little, and he hid his head in the crook of your neck. He sighed and rubbed your back, comforting you. “We should go to sleep.” He murmured as you felt his breath on your skin. You nodded, and your boyfriend grabbed your hand, heading the both of you to your bedroom.

Once you were lying down, he hugged you around your waist, bringing you closer to his chest and caressed your head lovingly. You heard him chuckle softly, and then he kissed your forehead. You just love how comforting he is.

[theforestwisperings]

The lark headcanons! (Part one)

I have a lot of silly headcanons on mind. Maybe this will be a HUGE post but I need to get this out of my mind.

Ofc this will be have a lot of colentine and imaginative scenarios

Disclaimer: Remember that this are headcanons!

This is NOT CANON and doesn't have the intention of spread misinformation. If you want real lore information, Remember check yaelokre's medias!!

Also, I'm sorry if my English sounds Rudimentary, I'm not a native speaker

🌾 The larks sharing a house

Perrine

(not a real) owner of the house. Always have control on the other ones ("Kingsley don't eat that you're gonna get sick")

Cozy room. The larks always enjoy having time on there.

Have in exhibition their own skull collection (and loves when someone wants to know more about)

HUGE WINDOW that have views to the forest

All of their decorations have brownish tones

Have a secretly spot with portraits of the others (specially Kingsley) (a/n: this is in the most fraternal way posible)

Kitchen owner (with Cole) and loves to cook btw

Confident of clemm, they usually have sleepovers (when clémmie aren't with Cole)

Silent. Doesn't speak to much

Sometimes even forget their voice

Have a hum language and the lark (surprisingly) understand them

Cole

Big room and bed. Usually sleeps with clémentine (but clemm also have their own room)

Messy but they have an order

Have a lot of notebooks/sheets in every single space

Also have a little love letters that they made to clemm but they never gives. (Such a shy little one)

The decorations of the room are always in greenish and blueish colours

Love working on night. Ofc they have a lot of candles.

Have a hare plush that clémentine gives them ("it reminds me of you!")

Have a wall with "pictures" (that's really portraits) of their friends

Usually helps Perrine with cooking and cleaning (specially cleaning)

Clémentine

The cleanest room. (They actually didn't spend a lot of time in there)

Have a huge dresser with all the things to have their curls cutely perfect

In the dresser there's a cole portrait (not a huge fan of portraits) and some letters to cole

Have the habit of walking barefoot

Have a lot of plushes that they made by themselves (a handcraft fairy)

Every plush have their name and favourite place on the room

Also ofc they have tea-parties with them

Have a library. Loves to read a lot.

Yellowish, blueish and greyish decorations.

Hides fruits and other snacks because they're just don't want to get out for food

Kingsley

Surprisingly, he is so organized. Loves to see their room clean

Small room. They actually want this space.

A little roof pass across their room

Have a cricket terrarium. Loves to see every single detail on them

And they usually gives that as a gift

Likes to draw. They have a lot of drawings in their desk

Greenish decorations

Nocturnal habits. He goes to sleep in the early morning

Likes to scare the other larks (specially Cole)

Have lots of portraits with Perrine

🐍 Modern life! AU

Perrine

Big fluffy clothes>>>>

Love sports. Part of a basketball team

Have a lot of injuries playing basketball

But they have their friends that take care of them

Quiet person

Take care of the larks in the remoteness

Loves physical contact

Cole

Anxiety and misophonia issues.

Tendency to being alone in free times

Needs academic validation so bad

Nervous but quiet

Hate physical contact but with clémmie make an exception

Everyone notes that exception

Writer of poetry

The face mask are their most important accessory

Clémentine

The curly method is the most important part of them

Loves fashion and Scarves. Like a lot

Layering clothes because they love it

Doesn't like to be alone. They always plays with Kingsley

hopeless romantic. Loves the idea of being in love and all the things

Having mixed feelings with Cole but there's no confidence enough to talk with Cole about that

Genius in math

Kingsley

Messiest child. With a lot of rebel intentions

Enjoy to play in the mud and rain

Always dirty (pretty self explanatory)

Clémentine best friend

Have a tendency of get hurt frequently

One time, they saved a cat on a tree. Then they fall resoundingly of the tree

They are okay I swear

Struggles with math

Artist kid, with innocence and pure heart. (A/n: protect them to all costs)

[holybibly]

Hongjoong as a CEO (Or a Secretary).

Imagine you met him...You are quiet because he's strict.

You are trying to be your very best but things don't go well sometimes.

And oh my, he's going to punishing you from behind. There are times you're having sex when nobody is there in the middle of the night but there are times when he fucks you in the morning.

And there is one moment when he is going to claim you as his.

Hongjoong would punish you by making you wear a little vibrator all damn day, controlled remotely from his office. To increase the pressure between your thighs, he also makes you wear super-tight, uncomfortable skirts.

Gets bloody jealous when you're watching someone else. It might have you warming his cock in your mouth while he sits under his desk holding a business or serious meeting. All the while giving you sultry glances through his fluffy eyelashes.

He's also a big fan of fucking you until you're bruised, tying his tie around your hands as he bends you over the desk and slaps you hard. He can't keep his hands to himself when you stutter and blush with embarrassment. Maybe! He'd fuck you first thing in the morning. He'd pin you up against the window and pull your blouse and bra completely off so your naked tits rubbed against the cold glass. Joong will constantly mock you.

"When they see your boss fucking you, what will they think of you?"

"I want everyone to see what kind of slut you are."

"You're completely useless; the only thing you're good for is being a nice cock sleeve."

[fairlyang]

Ghostie I 🕷️

in which you get a phone call by the infamous killer Ghostface, as a huge scream fanatic

w/c: 5.8K

pairing: ghostface!miguel x f!reader

tags: 18+ smut, mention of stalking and killings, home alone, phone call, teasing, getting tempted, masturbating, getting watched, phone sex, praise, toy usage

part two ~ part three

It was Friday night and I didn't feel like going to the party my friends had invited me to. Plus with all the killings happening in our area... yeah right..

I stayed my ass home and was preparing for a solo movie night, or yet another one of my scream-a-thons. I was in the kitchen waiting on the popcorn while I was trying to find a bowl. I lean down to grab a Disney themed one and then placed it on the counter.

I looked at the microwave and sighed. Whys this shit always gotta drag?

I walk over to the fridge and grab an Arizona can. Perfect.

I feel a buzz and grab my phone from my pocket. I look at my lockscreen and see I got a text from my best friend Ryan. I put the can on the counter and unlock my phone.

Ryan🤞🏼 :

bitch you're missing out- there's so many guys your type out here

I snicker and shake my head, of course that's his first thought. I roll my eyes and lean against the counter thinking of what to type.

Well I'd prefer to not die at some frat party tonight but feel free to give out my insta;)

I hit send and laugh knowing his ass would. The texting bubble immediately appears making me scoff. That was too fast.

Ryan🤞🏼:

got you🫡

Might drop by after to give you some company

I immediately text back a response and send it before turning my phone off and putting it back in my pocket.

Sounds good just call me

Just then the microwave beeps. Finally. I walk to it and open it carefully taking out the popcorn bag. I open it and pour it all onto the bowl.

I throw away the bag into the trash then grab the can of Arizona and the bowl, walking into my living room. I place the snacks on the table and grab the remote before plopping on the couch. I turn the tv on then realize I left the kitchen lights on.

I put the controller on the couch and stand up walking into the kitchen and flicking the light off. As soon as I did it I thought I saw something running away through the window above the sink. Maybe just a rabbit?

I walk back to the dark living room, the light from the tv being the only thing that lead me to the couch. I plop down and go on a fast hunt to find the first scream. I can never get enough of the original, mostly because of Billy Loomis and Sid's reaction to the reveal. And I guess also all the little details I love.

I click on the movie and press play. I reach over for the bowl of popcorn and put it on the side then grab my can and open it before taking a sip and placing it back on the table. I grab the blanket that is always on the couch and place it on my lap.

I take my phone out of my pocket and put it on the couch to my right. Just in case. The opening scene starts and I lean back. Ghostface's voice and tone- lordddd-

I bring the blanket up to my face feeling the room was colder than earlier. My mom must've put the ac up before she went to work. I properly cover myself and sit with one leg under my other one.

"What number are you trying to reach?"

"I don't know..."

"well I think you have the wrong number."

"Do I?"

"It happens. Take it easy."

And what kind of dumbass answers the phone again? Like obviously it's gonna be the person you were just on the phone with!!! I scoff and shake my head, how the first girls are somehow always the dumbest.

"To apologize"

"You're forgiven, bye now"

"Wait wait don't hang up-"

"What?"

"I wanna talk to you for a second."

"They have 500 numbers for that, see ya."

I stare at my screen in admiration. How someone thought of making this series- must've been a real sicko but it brought us an incredible killer, dedicated fans, and iconic characters.

I shake my thoughts away not wanting to get carried away and focus on the movie again.

"What's your favorite scary movie?"

"I don't know"

"You have to have a favorite... what comes to mind?"

I grab a handful of popcorn and put 'em into my mouth watching their back and forth. It was truly never tiring of watching every single scene endless amount of times. I guess that's what being one of the crazed fans in the community is like.

"Freddy! That's right."

That tone. Why does it have to sound so sweet? Especially knowing he's flirting with her just to then gut her after.

"So you got a boyfriend?"

Me, personally, that's where I would've folded and told him no but that I'd love to have one.

"Maybe.. do you have a boyfriend.."

Again the tone just always makes my heart flutter and legs go weak. Especially since it was Billy talking. Just something about extremely attractive ghostfaces....

"No"

"You never told me your name."

"Why do you wanna know my name?"

"'Cause I wanna know who I'm looking at."

I'd be giggling and kicking my feet- take that shit as a compliment, man wants to know your name- well given he definitely already knew the names of all his victims but still the thought that counts. And the fact he planned that shit completely on purpose with Stu.... But still.

Kinda like having your very own personal stalker... you could easily change his mind if you really wanted or attempted to.

"What do you think I said?"

"What?"

"Hello?"

"Look I gotta go."

"Wait... I thought we were gonna go out."

"Uh nah I don't think so."

"Don't hang up on me."

And she hangs up. Hm maybe if she didn't hang up she and her boyfriend could have survived. Or maybe she could've flirted her way out of not getting murdered.

Though I guess Stu would've wanted to kill her ass anyway for breaking up with him to be with Steven. But in these movies anything could be possible.

Ah the third phone call. "Yes?"

"I told you to not hang up on me." So menacing.

"What do you want?"

"To talk..." sounding oh so sweet.

And she hung up again. It's like she has literal worms for brain.

Fourth call.

The game begins.

The opening scene ended and I was soon an hour into the movie. It always went by so fast which was a bummer but that meant I was on the right track to watch the next one and hopefully finish the first four movies by 4am.

By the first half hour I grew hot and took the blanket off and leaving it off to the side. More than half of the popcorn was also gone hopefully I had enough for the rest of the movie.

"No please don't kill me Mr. Ghostface I wanna be in the sequel!" So fucking iconic.

And Tatum actually had some fight in her!! Although trying to squeeze in the doggy door was not the smartest idea....

After her scene I let out a yawn and wipe my eyes when Billy jumped in front of Stu and Sid and at the exact same time my phone rang, making me jump as well. Jesus.

I grab my phone and see it's from an unknown caller... well I always answer these to fuck with the annoying sales people. "Hello?" I ask and let out another yawn. It was barely midnight why the fuck was I already getting tired?

"Hey there, hm past your bedtime?" A smooth and husky voice teases.

Huh?

"Not at all, just a long day." I say and raise an eyebrow.

This was convenient timing- insane timing. Impeccable....

"But who is this?" I add and look back at my tv not wanting to miss another second of the movie.

I didn't recognize the voice so I knew it wasn't any of my friends, or any of their boysfriends. Hmm...

The voice on the other end of the line chuckles softly. "Oh, come on now. Don't play dumb with me, baby. You know exactly who this is," he says, his tone laced with a hint of playfulness. "It's your favorite killer, Ghostface."

I scoff and roll my eyes. A prank call. But sure I'll play along.

"How was I suppose to know hm? You're not using the infamous voice changer.... And you didn't ask me my favorite scary movie." I tease back and bite my lip. There was just no way. I wouldn't get this lucky.

Ghostface lets out a low chuckle, seemingly amused by my response. "You're right, I did forget to ask you that. But I already know the answer to that question, don't I? Your favorite scary movie is me," he says, his voice dripping with confidence making me widen my eyes. "And speaking of things you like, I couldn't help but notice how good you look in that outfit you're wearing right now. It's making it hard for me to focus on anything else," he adds, his tone turning flirtatious.

"Well the scream movies are pretty good.... Top tier for sure..." I say, eyes still wide and unsure if it's real or not.

"And what is it I'm wearing?" I test because there's only one way someone would know, if they were watching me.

"Your Billy Loomis shirt. I gotta say you've got great taste in killers." He says sounding almost cocky.

"And some short shorts. Grey. Y'know it's not nice to tease... you look absolutely delicious." he adds and I bite my lip, squeezing my thighs together.

My eyes nearly fall out of their sockets as I feel my heart race. But in the best way possible- holy shit- I was chosen- oh fuck-

Oh my god-

I couldn't fuck this up.

"You gonna come in to find out for yourself?" I ask teasingly and lay back on the couch letting my legs spread on the couch. I pull the ends of my shirt a bit higher up my thigh on purpose.

"Oh, trust me, baby. I'd love nothing more than to come in and find out just how delicious you are," he says, his voice filled with lust. "But unfortunately, I've got other things to take care of right now. But don't worry, I'll make it up to you," he adds, his tone promising.

"Why don't you do something for me instead?" he suggests. "Touch yourself for me. Show me just how wet you are for me."

I squeeze my thighs together yet again and bite my lip. Holy fuck???

Not only is my biggest dream and fantasy happening right now, but his voice was extremely hot and sensual almost... me having a voice kink was helping him out. Wonder if he knew that already...

"Well I'm not wet, yet... definitely turned on I won't deny that." I say and feel my arousal slowly growing. This is all I've ever dreamed of. How did I get so lucky tonight??? All because I didn't go to some frat party? Insanity...

I spread my legs out and make my hand go from squeezing my tits over my shirt to trailing down my stomach. I run a hand up and down my thighs then go down. I rub my slit over my shorts, very softly and let out a shaky breath. My fingers gently rubbing my folds then going up to rub my clit. I let out a moan and lay my head back.

I can't believe this is happening.

His voice drops to a low, husky whisper as he speaks. "Mmm, that's it, baby. You look so fucking hot touching yourself for me," he says, his words sending a shiver down my spine.

"I wish I could be there with you, watching you writhe and moan as you pleasure yourself," he adds, his tone filled with desire. "But since I can't, I'll have to settle for just hearing you. Tell me, baby, how does it feel? Are you getting wet for me?"

"Mm you just contradicted yourself Ghostie." I say breathless and chuckle. "you said I look hot but also wish you were here... which is it? Are you in my backyard or no?" I tease and rub my clit faster making me let out a whimper.

I look over at my patio door the shades were off plus it was dark so I knew he could be out there watching me. Or he could have cameras in here...

"Feels so good- mm I haven't had the chance to touch myself all week-" I say breathless and buck my hips against my fingers. I felt my wetness soak through my panties and onto my shorts. Damn.

I grab the waistband of my shorts and pull them down lifting my hips to get them over my ass and then take them off, throwing them on the floor.

My fingers go back into position, two over my clit, gently rubbing the already swollen nub. My biggest fantasy, coming to life. I've been blessed.

Even if he wasn't the real Ghostface (which I highly doubted), a fake Ghostface wouldn't know what the fuck I was wearing. This was the real deal. And he was watching me.

"So wet Ghostie-" I moan and move my panties to the side and spread my lips just in case he was somehow watching. "such a dirty perv wanting to hear me moan... hearing me play with my pretty pussy." I moan and smile. I've never felt so turned on in my life.

He lets out a low chuckle at my teasing making me blush. Every sound he made sounded so hot. "You got me there, baby. I can't help but wish I was there with you, but unfortunately, I'm not in your backyard," he says with a hint of disappointment in his voice. Man...

"But hearing you moan and seeing you touch yourself is almost as good. You're making me so hard, baby," he adds, his voice thick with desire.

I let out a whimper and rub my clit a bit faster, but not enough to make me close.

He groans softly at the sounds of your moans. He knew you would sound good, but not this good. "Mmm, you sound so fucking sexy when you moan like that. I wish I could feel your wetness on my fingers, taste you on my tongue," he says, his words making my arousal spike even higher. "But for now, I'll have to settle for watching you play with yourself. Keep going, baby. Show me just how much you want me."

I nod and grab the top of my panties, lifting my ass up and taking them off throwing them on the floor. I move two fingers over my slit collecting all of my slick juices making me quiver. I haven't been this wet in ages. "ya hear that Ghostie?" I say and swirl my fingers along my folds.

"So wet for you- mmm- just for you-" I purr and let out strings of moans.

He lets out a low growl and I swear I can hear him shift around. "Fuck, baby. You're making me so fucking hard," he says, his tone thick with lust. "I can practically hear how wet you are for me. You're such a dirty little slut, playing with yourself like this," he adds, his words making me moan even louder.

"Keep going, baby. Show me how much you want me, how much you need me," he says, his voice becoming more urgent. "Imagine me there with you, watching you touch yourself like this. Imagine my fingers inside you, stretching you open, making you scream my name," he adds, his words sending shivers down my spine again. He was already driving me crazy-

"mmm fuck" I whimper and slip one finger inside. "shit-" I whine and slowly push it inside.

I close my eyes and imagine it's his finger instead of mine, slowly fucking my pussy, teasing me on purpose. "Feels so fucking good~" I moan and buck my hips as I slowly push it deeper.

Ghostface groans at the sound of your moans, his own arousal spiking at the incredible sight of you fingering yourself. "God, I wish that was me inside you," he says almost breathless. "You look so fucking good, baby. I can only imagine how tight and wet you would feel around me," he adds, his words making me whimper.

"Keep fucking yourself for me, baby. I want to hear you scream my name when you come," he says, his voice becoming more urgent. "Are you close, baby? Do you want to come for me?"

I whimper and slip another finger inside and fuck myself faster. My breathing was getting more rapid and I could hear my juices with every movement. His words were only making me more and more wet for him. So needy. "mmm fuck- s-so close-" I murmur and buck my hips against my fingers.

I open my eyes and leave my phone on speaker leaving my phone on my stomach while I bring my legs up to my chest, trying to hold them with my available hand as I fuck myself. My pussy felt even more tight and I was a whimpering mess. "I wanna cum for you Ghostie-" I purr and fuck myself faster feeling cream slowly drip down to my asshole.

He lets out a low growl of desire at the sound of your words. He knew his girl would enjoy this, he knew how much a dirty girl you'd be for him."Yes, baby. Cum for me. I want to hear you scream my name," he says, his voice thick with lust. "Faster, baby. Fuck yourself harder. I wanna see you shaking," he adds, his tone becoming more urgent, almost needy.

The sound of your wetness and the sight of you fingering yourself so desperately is driving him wild with need. He can't help but imagine himself inside you, stretching you open and making you scream for more. He needed to be inside you. "I'm so close, baby. I can feel it," he says, his voice becoming more ragged. "Cum with me, baby. Let's come together," he adds, sounding breathless as I could hear him, stroking himself.

Holy fuck- he's been jerking off the whole time? That thought alone almost sent me to the edge.

I add a third finger in and fuck myself harder, feeing myself clench on my own fingers. I let out a mewl and multiple whimpers as more of a mixture of wetness and cream leak out of my pussy. I felt my orgasm approach quickly in my lower abdomen and I go harder curling my fingers up, reaching my g spot with every pump. I come undone and feel my entire body shake. I let out screams of his new given nickname and whimpers as I ride my high.

I bring my legs down slowly and try to calm my breathing down, thighs still shaking but I can't help all the heat the rushed to my face.

"Fuck! Oh my god... that was so good-" I whimper out and slowly take my fingers out letting the mess I made leak out of me.

He groans at the sound of your orgasm, his own cum dripping from his cock and onto his thighs at the sight of you coming apart for him. "Fuck, baby. That was so fucking hot," he says as he was catching his breath. "I wish I could have been there to see you come undone like that," he adds, his tone filled with longing.

"You're such a dirty little slut, coming so hard for me," he says, his words making me whimper. "I want to hear you come for me again. And again. And again," he adds, his tone becoming more urgent.

"You're mine now, baby. You belong to me," he says, his possessiveness evident in his voice.

I whimper and squeeze my thighs together. "So you're not gonna come in here to fuck me? Look how much I came just from hearing your voice." I whine and then a smile spreading my lips at my last sentence, I was absolutely drenched.

"Mmm all yours Ghostie." I say and gently dip a finger back onto my folds to get a taste. I lift my finger to my mouth and suck on my own juices.

"As much as I would love to come in there and fuck you, pretty girl, I've got other things to take care of," he says, his tone filled with slight annoyance. "But don't worry. We'll have plenty of time to play together," he adds, his tone now sounding promising.

I pout and suck the remains of my arousal from my fingers. "a shame...."

He groans softly at the sight of you tasting your own juices. "Mmm, you're so dirty, baby. I love it," he purrs making my heart flutter.

"Are you still wet for me? Do you want to come again?" he asks, his tone becoming more demanding.

"I might just have to go back to my room and use a dildo- I wanna be filled..." I say and try to sit up without making more of a mess but it was inevitable considering I was still leaking. I stand up and pick up my panties and put them back on. Sure those will also get stained but it's fine....

His voice drops to a low, husky whisper as he speaks. "Mmm, I wish I could be there to fill you up, baby. I bet you would look so fucking pretty with my cock buried deep inside you," he says, his words making my heart race and my pussy even more needy, desperate. "But since I can't be there, you'll just have to use your imagination. Pretend it's me inside you," he says making me whine.

"Touch yourself for me again, baby. Give me a show..." he says as I felt my slickness leak to my panties. That was fast. "I want to hear you come for me again. Over and over again," he teases and I feel my eyes flutter.

"Can do ghostie." I say and quickly turn the tv off before heading to the stairs. I go up quickly and open my bedroom door.

I walk over to my chest of toys and pick my thickest dildo. A solid eight inches and a good two inches wide. It always felt so fulfilling.

I sit on my bed putting my phone down for a second and take my stained panties off and also take my shirt off, throwing them both on the floor. "Are you gonna watch hm? Thought you had stuff to attend to..." I tease as I kiss the tip of my dildo, leaving my phone near me as I move to lay down on my stomach.

"Oh, I'm definitely watching, baby. I wouldn't miss the sight of you fucking yourself with that dildo for anything," he says, his tone thick with lust. "I might have things to do, but you're too beautiful to ignore," he whispers and I feel myself melt. His voice was so pretty.

He moans softly at the sight of you kissing the tip of your dildo. Oh how badly he needed your mouth on his cock- licking up all his leftover cum and taking him deep in your throat. "Mmm, that's it, baby," he says, his voice becoming more urgent. "I want to see you take that dildo deep inside you. Show me how much you can take. You'll need the practice pretty girl." He says and I widen my eyes.

How big was he? Oh god-

"Dirty perv. Do you have cameras in here?" I tease and giggle.

I feel myself getting more wet at the thought.. I mean he's definitely watching me somehow....

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't. You'll never know." he taunts letting out a chuckle, his words making me shiver with anticipation.

I lift my hips before moving my dildo down to slowly rub against my soaked folds. "fuck-"

I sit up again and position it only letting the tip inside. "Oh god- s-so thick-" I whine and lift myself up, not able to take it. Has it really been that long?

He grunts at the sight of you rubbing the dildo against your soaked folds. It was a sight he'd never grow tired of seeing. "Mmm, you look so fucking hot with that dildo in your hand," he says as I was barely able to hear him stroking himself again. "Take it slow, baby. I want to see you savor every inch of that dildo. Make it feel good inside you"

"Are you still tight for me, baby? I bet you are. You'll have to work that dildo in slowly. Make it stretch you open to prepare for mine." he teased and I feel like passing out.

I nod and slowly lower myself down on it. I was struggling but was slowly able to take it, it was still huge inside me, absolutely stretching me out. I felt my legs shake a bit and I was barely about to be halfway and I was already feeling full. "Don't fucking stop." he growls and I moan.

"Mm Ghostie I need your cock- I wanna ride you... wanna feel you fill my pussy..." I mumble and slowly go up and down.

"God, you're so fucking hot when you're so desperate and needy," he growls making me widen my eyes. "Keep going, baby. I want to hear you moan for me."

He lays his head back, his hands stroking his dick at the same pace as you were fucking yourself, admiring the way your body is shaking with pleasure. "That's it, baby. Ride that dildo like it's me. Imagine it's my cock inside you, stretching you open," he moans out then lets out a groan. "I want to see you come for me again, baby. Show me how much you need my cock." He snarls and I hear the wet noises again. Fuck.

I slam down on it and let out desperate little noises. "Shit-" I moan out and hold the bottom of it while I move my hips up and down on it.

"A- mmm- fuck-" I moan out, the little pain I felt before being gone and now being overwhelmed with pure pleasure.

He knew you'd look even prettier, even sexier on his lap riding his cock. Moaning for him, clenching on him, cumming while he's deep inside you. "That's it, baby. You look so fucking sexy riding that dildo," he says his stroking sounds getting louder. "You're so wet for me right now aren't you? I can practically hear you dripping," he adds, his words making me clench against the dildo. Oh fuck-

I let out a whimper and fuck myself faster on it. Lord it was so big- who knew I could take it- I just needed some motivation. The right motivation.

"Keep going, baby. I want to see you come again. I need to see you come," he says, his tone becoming demanding again. "You're mine now, baby. You belong to me," he adds, his possessiveness evident in his voice.

I whimper and nod. I felt so dumb, I couldn't think, all I could do was ride my dildo and moan hearing all his sweet dirty nothings. I let out moans as I ride it and go faster but can't form a singular sentence. I wonder if this was how it was gonna be when he fucked me, until I was completely dumb for him.

He stroked himself faster, the sight of you riding the dildo so desperately, helping his hunger for you. He can practically feel your wetness through the phone, and it's driving him wild with need. He needed you. Oh he wanted nothing more than to be deep inside you right now. His cock was twitching in his hands thinking about it. "That's it, baby. Ride it harder. Be a good girl for me." he says, his voice thick with lust.

"I bet you would look so fucking pretty with me inside you. I can't wait to see you come apart for me," he adds, his words making you shiver, wanting it so badly. "Keep going, baby. I want to see you come endless amount of times." he breathes out, the sounds of his hand on his cock making me go crazy.

I feel my orgasm approach in my stomach again but this time it was faster. I moved my body, fucked myself harder as I was getting closer and closer. "p-please- fuck- please let me cum-" I whimper and feel like my legs were made of jelly.

"C-can I know your real name- I- mm I wanna moan it when I cum." I ask as my eyes fluttered shut but I continued my pace, my pussy gripping it perfectly.

He grunts at the sound of your pleading, he felt himself getting close to cumming as well. God how much he wanted to cum deep inside you. "Yes, baby. Cum for me. I want to hear you scream my name," he moans out breathlessly. "Faster, baby. Fuck yourself harder," he adds, his voice driving you closer to the edge.

At the sound of your question, Ghostface hesitates for a moment before finally giving in. He really did wanna hear you moan his name, especially while you cum plus he'd have to tell you it eventually for when he does get the chance to pound into you and he'd make sure all your neighbors knew who you belonged to.

"My name is Miguel," he answers softly. "Now cum for me, baby. Scream my name. I wanna see you make a pretty mess for me."

I whimper as I fuck myself on it, going faster while also trying to go all the way down. "Faster, baby. Fuck yourself harder. Show me how much you want - no show me how much you need me to fuck you," he corrects himself letting out a handful of moans, stroking himself even faster.

"F-Fuck- Miguel- mmm you'd be fucking me so good- fuck your cock would make me- shit!" I moan out and clench against the dildo my pace slowing down as I was right there.

He groans as he hears you moaning his name, his own orgasm building rapidly. He was gonna imagine he was cumming on your perfect tits or ass. Or deep inside you. He wanted to breed you so much. Pull out and watch it all leak out. He was so ready to plan his next move, the perfect meetup. The perfect reveal. Especially knowing how much of a fan you were, you'd appreciate it. "That's it, baby. You look so fucking hot when you're coming apart for me," he moans and I hear his cock. God I needed it. "Cum with me, baby. Let's come together again, my love." He groans and I let go.

I let out screams of his name, sweat forming on my forehead, legs shaking so much, my cream slowly making its way down my dildo as I whimpered slowly riding my high again.

Miguel lets out moans and grunts at the sound of your screams, his own orgasm hitting him hard. His cum shooting up to his stomach and landing on his land and thighs. He moaned your name as he came undone, so happy he was finally able to do this with you. "Fuck, baby. You're so fucking perfect." he says trying to catch his breath. "I wish I could be there to see you covered in sweat, writhing in pleasure," he adds and I feel my legs shake.

He takes a few deep breaths to calm down, his voice becoming more gentle. "You did so well, baby. I'm so proud of you," he says, his tone filled with praise. "You're such a good girl for me," he adds, his tone becoming more affectionate.

I feel myself blush as my breathing calmed down and I let out a drunken smile. "Just and only for you." I purr as I slowly lift myself off the dildo.

"That was.... Incredible." I say as the dildo slips out of my pussy with a 'pop'.

"Thank you Miguel." I whisper sweetly and sit up grabbing my dildo and putting it on my bedside table.

I grab my phone and place it down next to my pillow as I lay down on my bed and feel my breathing come back to normal.

"You were incredible, baby. I could watch you come for me all day," he murmurs softly, "Thank you for letting me watch," he whispers and I giggle.

I really nailed like four different fantasies and kinks into one singular night....

He takes a few deep breaths to calm down, his voice becoming more affectionate and caring. "You're such a good girl for me, baby. I can't wait to see you again."

I felt my cheeks grow warm and I tried to hide a smile creeping onto my face. He wanted to see me. God it’d be better face to face...

"Until then, keep thinking of me. Keep imagining me inside you. Let me live in your wet dreams." he adds, his words making me squeezing my thighs.

He hangs up the phone, leaving me alone with my thoughts and memory filled of my intense phone sex session with Ghostface.

Miguel lets out a sigh and wipes the sweat beads from his forehead as he looks down at the mess he made. So much cum. More than usual. Obviously since he finally decided to call you and knew you'd be his perfect final girl. You were such a good girl for him. Just as he had predicted. He looks up at his laptop in front of him, looking at the screen of you in your bed with a smile on your pretty flushed face.

He takes one final look at your pretty face and cute reaction before closing his laptop and pulls his pants up. He pulls his robe down and grabs his laptop before standing up and carefully opening the door. He takes a small peek outside to see the backyard of your house and slips out of the old shed quickly. It was completely vacant and he knew you were in bed, dad was on a business trip, and mom was still at work.

He slips through the side and got to the front of your house pulling his mask down as he looked up at your window already anticipating for when he'll slip through the window to fuck his girl senseless.

[ch0k3herwithaseaview]

@jegulus-microfic | march 15 use | words: 456

tw: the 1975, sex is mentioned (if you blik you’ll miss it, literally)

seeing this motherfucking drug addict live is now my whole personality but it’ll pass i promise; for now enjoy:3

James heard his boyfriend's concert (loud screams that were supposed to be singing) outside the door of their apartment building. Regulus must have forgotten to close the window because the sounds coming from their apartment were quite clear. James still couldn’t comprehend that none of the neighbours had filed a complaint with the building owner or the police yet. Although he wasn’t a fan of Reg’s concerts, he was always glad to see him as happy as he was while giving them.

When he entered the flat, the song changed from Taylor’s Karma to that one song Regulus was playing on repeat in his Tumblr boy era. With the change of repertoire came a screeching sound of excitement, like when your favourite artist stars playing your favourite song live.

James walked into their living room, where the performance was taking place, and leaned against the doorframe, watching Regulus shout words into a hairbrush, pretending it was a microphone. He was thrashing around the room like a feral animal, alternately falling to his knees and lying on the floor in much the same way he had been lying in their bed last night when James made his way down Regulus’ body.

When the younger man finally noticed him, he didn’t even flinch; he just started singing to James.

“And he said, "Use your hands and my spare time/We've got one thing in common, it's this tongue of  mine"" Regulus was smirking at him while singing those words. James just grinned and shook his head at his boyfriend’s antics. And the lyrics change? Absolutely genius if you asked him (yes, that’s sarcasm; James was capable of that).

“Come on, sing with me!” Regulus shouted to him in the transition between verses, giving him the remote control (second microphone). “There's only minutes before I drop you off,” he continued singing.

James looked at the remote and back at his man. He hesitantly took it and pressed a button that made the lyrics appear on the screen. He didn't really feel it at first, but when Reg looked at him with eyes sparkling with excitement and a bright smile reserved just for him, he gave in. He started getting into the song, banding his knees and throwing back his head.

When it ended and Satellite came on, he threw the remote at the couch, grabbed Regulus’ wrist, and pulled him into his arms. They sang along and danced the routine they had made before Harry's concert, swaying their hips to the melody, spinning each other, and jumping like happy little kids.

So, yes, James might not be the biggest fan of Reg’s singing, but he loves the way it almost always turns into them dancing like nothing else matters.

[rbbrbikerthorp]

A Room For The Night

“Urgh!” I said to myself as I walked down the dingy corridor looking at the numbers on the doors. A sign points the way; up another flight of stairs.

“Room 507 - here it is,″ I said to myself..I put an actual key key into the lock. I turn it to the door to the attic bedroom, I still can’t believe that all the known chains in town were full for the night. After. a really long day trudging around the city from meeting to meeting and then entertaining a customer, I’d missed my last train home. I must’ve checked out two dozen hotels online before I managed to find one with a room. I guess ‘beggars can’t be choosers’.

As I opened the door the stench hit me in the face; a mix of smoke, damp and old furniture offended my nose. No point complaining; there was no alternatives and it would only be for one night.

I dropped my bag on the bed and walked over to the sash window to see If I could open it, but it wouldn’t budge. Years of painting had sealed it shut.  

I looked around the room to see if there was another way to get some ventilation in. There was ventilation panel and a switch on the wall below it. When I flicked the switch, I was pleasantly surprised that hotel had fitted one of those silent air-con units you can hear faintly as opposed to one with a fan that creates an unbearable noise. I looked around the room and spotted a TV on the wall, there was a fridge and kettle. I also noticed a wardrobe, but as I was only staying one night I wouldn’t unpack my bag. 

I guess the day was catching up with me, because I began to feel very tired. Just then I remembered I had to send a couple of emails before the end of the day. So I grabbed my laptop and sat at the desk. As I typed away, I could hear comforting sound of the air conditioning whispering away in the background . “Mmmm perhaps this wasn’t so bad for one night,“ I thought. The two important emails were sent plus, I sent another to my department head summarising meetings - not something I’d normally do, but I felt compelled to do it on this occasion. I logged out and closed my laptop.

I decided to take a shower before bed. I stripped out of my suit trousers and shirt and head into the bathroom. I turned on the shower, and stepped in, the hot water immediately relieved the tension in my muscles. Not having planned to stay away for the night I didn’t have any toiletries with me, but I was amazed to discover a hotel of this standard actually provided a selection of bathroom amenities for guests.

I cracked open the shower gel and rubbed it into my hair. I whiffed the scent, “wow that’s really overpowering,” I thought. I tried to figure out what the scent was but for some reason my mind wandered onto other things. I massaged it into my hair, lost in the smell, closing my eyes. I stood under the water raining down from the shower head feeling the suds wash out of my hair.. I reopened the bottle of shower gel and applied it everywhere, wanting the smell to cover me entirely. The smell is making me feel soooooooo relaxed and sooooooo horny. Eventually, I know I’ve left the soap on me for long enough and rinse myself off

Turning off the shower, I step out and grab one of the towels from the rail and dry myself off. I felt so drained but also so relaxed. I walk out of the en-asuite and drop the towel on the floor and, fully naked, I climb under the covers. At the side of the bed is the remote control, I grab it and turn on the TV. 

When the screen came alive there was just static. I flicked through the channels, but it was the same. “Urgh”, I thought, “here we go, the TV doesn’t work.” I was about to get up and see whether the cable had come loose but I found myself captivated by the colours on the screen. There was also a strange humming noise emanating from the television that made it hard to think. I laid there, watching the pretty colours,”sooooo beauuutifullll…” As I watched I became hornier and hornier but I found couldn’t move a muscle. I began to panic, the static was interspersed by coloured spirals and then there were flashes. the flashes grew brighter and more frequent - I’m sure the flashes were actually words but I couldn’t tell. I kept staring at the screen, open-mouthed. 

All I could do was stare at the screen. Sometime later the screen finally went blank. I reached to the bedside table and switched off the light. I quickly drifted off to sleep listening to the soundtrack of the whispering air conditioning.

I vaguely recall having this weird dream when suddenly I came around. Rolling over I tapped my phone to check the time, it was only 3:30am. A thought entered my head - I needed to get up and check the wardrobe. “What? Are you serious?” I laid there for what felt like ages , but the thought didn’t go away. In fact the voice in my head kept getting louder, Check the wardrobe...Check the wardrobe...Check the wardrobe..It kept getting louder still. Check the wardrobe... Eventually the compulsion took over. I climbed out of bed and walked over the wardrobe, and opened the door. 

As I pulled the doors open, right away there was a rank smell of old leather and cigarette smoke. Hanging inside the wardrobe were some clothes and a pair of boots. Even though I knew thugs wore clothes like these, I couldn’t help myself, I had to touch them. My hand brushed against the green bomber jacket; I felt a static charge that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I picked up the boots, lifted them and held them to my face. They looked as though they’d been well worn. I took a deep breath. Inside each one, someone had stuffed in a sock. At first the smell of foot odour and leather was overpowering, but after inhaling the scent for a few minutes I felt intoxicated and started feeling horny again. 

I picked up the pair of jeans that looked like they’d been splashed with bleach. They looked like they’d been worn a few times since the last wash. There was also a black polo shirt on another hanger. “Hmmm,” I thought, “The last person staying here must have left this behind. I’ll have to mention this to reception when I check out. I put everything back in its place, closed the wardrobe door and went back to bed to try and get some more sleep. 

Back in bed I laid staring at the ceiling listening to the whispering air con. “Was that a voice I could hear? Was it telling me I should try on the clothes hanging in the wardrobe. Why on earth would I want to try on another person’s worn, actually well-worn clothes?” I laid in bed contemplating what the voice in my head was telling me to do. After a while i thought, “maybe I could try the clothes on - it would be a laugh. No, what am I thinking?” I was restless in bed. In the end the voice was becoming unbearable, I caved in. I got out of bed, opened the wardrobe again, and inhaled deeply. This time the smell didn’t offend me. I took out the contents put them on the bed and looked at them closely.

I grabbed the bleached jeans and slid them on, one leg at a time. I struggled to get into them as they were skin tight, probably a size too small compared to any trousers I’d normally wear. I stood up and walked to the mirror. The jeans had been cut short, so they just covered the knee. There was a clear bulge at the front. I turned around; the jeans were nice and tight around my arse. “Where did that thought come from?” I walked back over to the bed and picked up the black polo, with yellow piping on the collar. I raised my arms, slid it over my head. I looked okay to say I’m not the slimmest I could be.. My horniness was increasing.

The boots were next. I felt a definite tingle all over my body as I picked them up. I pulled the socks out and one at a time, I rolled up them up my legs. I studied the boots; the white laces were pristine. This was a total contrast to the rest of the clothes, which had been used multiple times. I could tell there was a certain way the previous owner had set about lacing them up.  It took me a few minutes to work out how to copy what had been done before that would, in the end, create a ladder effect. Instinctively knew they needed to be laced tightly onto my feet, so I started with the left and then moved onto the right boot. After a short while I’d got the the boots on my feet. I stood up and walked around. The boots felt heavier than anything I’d worn on my feet. 

Walking around the bedroom in these tightly laced boots than went all the way to the top of my calf muscles was amazing. I was getting hornier than ever. I could see my growing bulge in my bleached jeans. I walked over to the wardrobe, taking the green bomber jacket from the hanger and slipped it on. I noticed a lump in one of the pockets. Lifting out the contents, I held an unopened packet of cigarettes and a box of matches in my hand. I stood staring in the mirror for ages. I was experiencing a ‘sensory overload’ - that’s the only way I can describe it

The reflection in the mirror was obviously me, but it also wasn’t the me I’d known all my life. For the first time I felt different like a different person, but something didn’t look right. I stared and stared, then I had a revelation. “It’s the hair,” I said out loud, “You don’t wear clothes like this with a head full of hair.” Without thinking I went into the bathroom and looked through the amenities that the hotel provided. Sure enough there was a brand new Mach 3 razor and a tube of shaving cream. I slipped the off the jacket and removed the polo shirt.

Although i kept my hair relatively short, it was going to take some time to shave my head without being able to use any clippers to remove the bulk of my hair. In the whispering air con I heard a voice, so quiet you could barely make it out. It seemed to be whispering “desk drawer, desk drawer”. I walked back into the bedroom and opened the drawer. Inside was a solitary item; a pair of scissors. “Well,” I said to myself, “these will make things easier,” I went back into the bathroom and set about hacking at my hair with the scissors. Clumps of hair were falling into the sink. I kept snipping until there was almost nothing left to cut. 

I turned on the tap and ran the water until it got very hot. Next I squeezed plenty of shaving cream into my hands and applied it evenly all over my head. I rinse my hands of the foam and picked up the razor.

Instinctively I knew what I needed to do. I put the razor at the back of my crown, and pulled it towards my forehead. I rinse the razor under the running hot water. In steady strokes I went from front to back in the direction my hair seemed to be growing in.

I could feel my the bulge in my jeans getting harder and harder. I’d completed the top of my head. Time to do the sides. I put the razor just above the left hand side, pull it down in an even stroke, only stopping when reach the top of my cheek. When I’d finished the one side, I switched to the other side and did it all over again.

Between each stroke I’d rinse my razor in the hot water to keep the blades clean. When that was done, it was time to do the back. I took my time because I couldn’t see what I was doing. I carefully placed the razor at the back of my crown, then pulled it down toward the nape of my neck. I made very slow, even passes with the razor, repeating it until I could was happy that all my hair was gone.

One last scrape...done!

I looked in the mirror and could see my head was fully shaved and gleaming. At that moment I felt different. A ‘switch’ in my head flipped. I stared at myself in the mirror - I sensed I’d evolved. A new character had emerged, I was become mean and aggressive.

I was shaken from my thoughts by a knock at the door. I look through the peephole to see who was at the door. Whoever was standing on the other side of the door had obscured my view.

“Oi! Oi!, lad, open the door.”

It wasn’t a request, it was an order. I had to comply.

I opened the door, standing in front of me was a huge skinhead. He didn’t say anything nor did he smile. 

I spent a few seconds taking him in; From the tightly laced boots on his feet and the obscenely tight bleached jeans to the black bomber jacket, black gloves and shaved head. Not only did I feel tiny by comparison, I also felt intimidated by his appearance. 

He walked over to the other side of the room. Lit a cigarette, inhaled and blew the smoke in my direction.

He took another drag on the cig, exhaled and then spoke. “Right, let’s take a look at you.” 

I walked towards him, inhaling the second hand smoke. He studied me like a scientist looks at bacteria under the microscope. He smiled.

“Yep, it seems that you’ve responded exactly as you were instructed boy.”

All I could do was smile. If I’d have been a dog I’d have been wagging my tail; happy to have pleased my skinhead Boss. “Boss, where did that thought come from” I wondered? 

With that he took another drag on his cigarette. “Boy, I think you’ve already found a pack in your jacket pocket, get one out and light up, ...now! 

Again it wasn’t a request it was an instruction to be obeyed without question. I got one out of the pack, put it in my mouth. I got a match out of the box and, as I pulled it quickly along the side it ignited. I brought the light to my cigarette and instinctively inhaled. I held it for a few seconds and then exhaled.

He took another drag on his cigarette, exhaled in my direction and spoke. “Right boy, get yer wallet and phone and give ‘em to me.”

I walked across to the bedside table where my phone was and then went into my suit trouser pocket to get me wallet. I handed them over without question. 

He watched me finish my cigarette and then spoke, “I want you to get through that pack today boy.”

I didn’t say anything, I nodded still in shock as I realised for the first time in my life I’d smoked.

“Stay there boy, there’s one more thing to do.”

With that he took some red braces out of his pocket and attached them to the top of the jeans I was wearing. He handed back my phone. 

“That’s better - red braces to hold up yer bleachers. Take a selfie boy, and then give the phone back to me. It’s time to tell all your friends, family and workmates yer a skinhead now.”

I took the picture and handed him the phone. I watched him type out a message, attach the picture I’d just taken and select ‘send to all’. “Done,” he said, putting my phone back in his pocket. “Can’t wait to see the responses you get boy.” Now he had a big smile on his face, “Now put your shirt back on and grab yer jacket. Leave everything else behind, we’re leaving.”

He watched me pull the braces off my shoulder so I could put the polo shirt on. I was about to pull them back up when he said, “nah, leave them down. He paused for a few second, “now yer might be dressed like a skinhead boi, but you’ve got a lot to learn about the skinhead code. Yer gonna live with me and I’m going to show ya, but we need to make a few modifications first in order to finish your transformation. Let’s go...”

Without questioning my new Boss I grabbed my jacket and followed him out of the room. The door slammed shut behind me - not turning back. 

Walking down the corridor, we passed a room where someone had left a pair of black boots and some other gear outside. The skinhead turned around,“Ah good, looks like they’re getting ready for the next 'guest, who will join the growing skinhead ranks.”

At which point I grabbed the growing bulge in my bleachers and followed two paces this brute of a skinhead Boss ready to embark on my new life and the final stage of my transformation.

The End?

[All of the pictures used to illustrate the story have been found online. If I’ve used someone’s by mistake, let me know and I will remove it.]

[psuedochakra]

Hot for Teacher - 1

1986, Miramar, CA

As far as naval air stations went, Maverick only had good things to say about Miramar. And the only good thing was that Commander Metcalf didn't bounce Mav as soon as he did something stupid. Oh, wait. No. He wasn't a commander anymore. Fancy pants admiral over there.

When your favorite admiral asks you to fill in as an instructor, you accept. Especially when Maverick’s other option was a questionably long deployment in the Mediterranean. Normally, Maverick wouldn’t mind. But he had just finished up [redacted] months doing [redacted] . Maverick deserved a break. Teaching at TOPGUN had to be easier than [redacted] .

Mav even came to base on the weekend. Only because Viper had asked because Mav needed to meet the other instructors. He waltzed his way to the offices. Maverick would even have an office. He’d have to dig out some photos to put up. 

“Pete Mitchell,” a voice called as he walked toward the offices, “You’re still kicking?”

“Charlie Blackwood,” Maverick smiled. “You’re still slumming it with us naval aviators?”

Charlie laughed. She had a lovely laugh. Sparkling, warm. She also belonged to the list of powerful men's daughters that Mav kept track of in his head. He definitely didn’t need another family mad at him. Between the Blackwoods and the Benjamins, the Blackwoods would be the worst option. At least what happened with Penny Benjamin was a misunderstanding. Admiral Benjamin wasn't very understanding of it, but Penny smoothed it over. Somehow. 

“Where’s Viper?” Maverick asked.

“At home. It’s Sunday,” Charlie replied with a shrug. “Here’s your office.”

The little sign by the door labeled it as Jester’s office. The office was pretty big considering there were two desks shoved in there. The windows overlooked the tarmac.

“I thought I was filling in for Jester,” Mav tapped the sign as they entered the room.

“You are. Talk to Viper if you want your name on there,” Charlie shrugged. “I’m down the hall by Viper’s office.”

“I’m intimately familiar with Viper’s office,” Mav joked.

Charlie laughed again.

“You get Jester’s office to yourself, since he’s out,” Charlie carried on. “I’ve been handling theoreticals and the boring physics parts. You and Hammer will do the practicality and exciting application parts.”

Maverick groaned, “Hammer like Chester Cain?”

Charlie nodded, frowning slightly.

“I hate that guy.”

“He’s not a fan of you,” she informed him. “Especially since you get an actual office and he has to use a section of the classroom.”

“What did he poison Jester for his office?” Mav rolled his eyes.

“Maverick!” Charlie scolded with a giggle.

He knew better. Jester had an unexpected surgery (appendix) and was out for the foreseeable future. At least for this TOPGUN class. They were two weeks into the course. Maverick could suck it up for three weeks and work with Cain.

“Charlie, what’s Cain doing here anyway?” Maverick asked her. “He’s been singing praises of the Air Force’s UAVs for years. Teaching literal humans doesn’t seem like his bag.”

Charlie frowned. She started chewing her lip, a nervous habit. Blackwoods ran deep in DC. Cain could be here to curry favor with her for something. It could just be a run of the mill assignment for Cain too. Or, the secret third option, Cain could have requested it. Not unheard of since TOPGUN was a pretty cushy position. Fly and teach all day.

“Between you and me?” Charlie raised an eyebrow.

“Of course,” Maverick nodded.

She closed the office door and stood closer to Maverick.

“Word back home is that some defense contractor wants to sell more remote controlled toys,” Charlie said quietly, “Air Force is interested, but the Navy won’t buy so long as Viper and this program are effective.”

“Huh,” Mav clicked his tongue, “Think he’s here to snoop?”

“Best case. He did request it.”

“Worst case?”

Charlie shrugged. “Why do you think you’re here?”

“Because Jester had his appendix taken out?”

“Use your brain, Maverick,” Charlie tapped his skull gently. “Out of everyone Viper could have recalled?”

“Charlie, you’re better at this game than I am,” he told her.

Charlie sniffed at him and gave him a look.

“Ensure success,” Charlie explained, “And look good doing it. For you and Viper. The Navy's Maverick wrangler wrangles him again. You prove you can sit still for at least three weeks.”

“See, you’re so much better at this,” Mav praised. “Now, be honest. Do I have to meet up with Cain now? Or can you just catch me up?”

Charlie laughed, “No, sorry. I’m just the liaison today. He’s in his classroom office. I’ll grab your housing keys and meet you over there.”

“Great. Lucky me.”

At least Cain was equally unhappy about their situation as Maverick. He wasn’t outright hostile, at least. They commiserated about having to be there together on a Sunday. They lamented about Viper bailing on them. Cain glossed over the pilots and their backseaters. Charlie hadn’t joined them yet, so Cain complained about her teaching style. All substance; too complex. Everything she said belonged in a textbook. Nobody could possibly apply her theories, but a computer sure could.

Maverick nodded absentmindedly as he flipped through personnel files and lesson plans. Jester left him a bunch of things from TOPGUNs past in their office. Mav could cobble together something from Jester’s old plans and notes from this class.

“They’re all Tomcat duos?” Mav asked.

“Hmm?” Cain looked at him.

“The students.”

“Oh, yeah. All in F-14s.”

“What are we chasing them in?”

“Skyhawks.”

Maverick whistled, “Haven’t flown one of those in a long time. I’ve been in F-5s lately.”

“We can probably find you one,” Charlie announced as she approached the two men.

“What are they like?” Mav continued.

“The pilots? Cocky fucks,” Cain shrugged.

Charlie looked at the personnel folders over Mav’s shoulder. 

“These two,” she pointed, “Chatterboxes. This one just had a kid. He came from the birth here. Little distracted, but his RIO keeps him focused. Oh, he's a sweetheart. Tests really well. His pilot does too. Both physics degrees, I think. These two, top of the class in points.”

“For now,” Cain interjected.

Charlie clicked her tongue quietly in Mav's ear. She handed Maverick his housing keys. The trio went over possible lessons. How to best integrate the boring physics with the exciting physics. After a few hours, Maverick excused himself. He still had to check out his house and unpack. He scooped up his paperwork and left.

The on-base housing wasn’t terrible. Especially compared to a shitty little bunk he had to share with someone else. Mav’s place had two bedrooms, one and a half baths, an attached garage, and was completely furnished. All shitty navy issue furnishings, but he didn’t care. He tossed his duffel into a bedroom, left the paperwork on the dining table, and picked up the phone.

“Bradshaw residence,” the other line greeted him.

“Hey, honey! I’m home,” Mav said cheerfully.

The phone exploded in his ear. Mav held it away and winced. He could clearly hear the loud and frantic chatter from one of his favorite Bradshaws with the phone a few inches away still.

“PETER MAVERICK MITCHELL, THIS IS HOW I FIND OUT YOU’RE STATESIDE?! CAROLE! MAV’S STATESIDE!!”

There was a click of a second phone being picked up.

“Petey!?” she exclaimed.

“Hey Carole,” Pete grinned. “Putting that bedroom phone to good use, huh? And you said it was a stupid idea.”

“I said it was stupid when you wanted us to put a phone in our room so you and Goosey could talk until he fell asleep,” Carole snorted. “It’s perfectly practical for this.”

“Where’re you at now, Mav?” Goose chuckled.

“Miramar,” Mav answered. “Viper called me for this TOPGUN class. Jester’s out. You remember Jester?”

“Yeah, yeah. No fun. S’why he didn’t like us, honey.”

“XO on that carrier, right?” Carole asked them.

“Yeah.”

“Mhmm.”

“How long you stateside for, Petey?” Carole kept on.

“Three weeks at least. I’ve got loads of leave I can take, and Viper will probably grant it,” Mav said.

“I’ve got vacation time too. We can fly out closer to graduation,” Goose hummed. “Bradley doesn’t start college until September.”

“How’s he?”

“Oh, you know,” Carole giggled, “Embarrassed by everything we say and do.”

“Teenagers, Mav, fucking teenagers,” Goose lamented.

“He’s goin’ to UT Austin. Go Longhorns!” Carole cheered. “Got a hefty baseball scholarship and everything.”

“Hey, that’s great,” Mav smiled.

They chatted until Maverick’s stomach rumbled. Carole scolded him for not eating. Reluctantly, the Bradshaws hung up. Left, finally, to his own devices, Mav ordered pizza and went back over the pilots’ personnel files again.

There were four sets of aviators and RIOs. They were all young . Late 20s, but that still felt so young. Their official Navy photos looked even younger. Maverick wondered if the photos were from flight school. Their records were pretty good, of course. TOPGUN was for the best of the best. 

Chipper and Sundown out of NAS Key West; VF-101 Grim Reapers. They were part of a replacement squadron. It sounded like those two were the permanent fixture, training other, newer aviators before they moved on.

Hollywood and Wolfman out of NAS Oceana; VF-41 Black Aces. Mav had heard of a Prowler crashing on the deck of their carrier a few years ago. They lost three F-14s and three crew. Other than that, they were terribly efficient.

Cougar and Merlin also out of NAS Oceana; VF-143 Pukin’ Dogs. A lot of reconnaissance. If Maverick’s memory served him correctly, VF-143 were the first to do combat reconnaissance in F-14s.

Iceman and Slider out of NAS Jacksonville; VF-102 Diamondbacks. Maverick frowned as he skimmed. They had just gotten back from [redacted] a few months ago. A lot of the information was blacked out. He made a mental note to ask the aviator and RIO after the first class.

Class started at 0800 with Charlie’s lectures. After, Jester would give the practical applications of her fancy physics talk. Cain took over that for the first day. Next, the first set of hops before lunch. They’d run simulations after lunch, maybe have a test, and finally the last set of hops in the afternoon.

All the students flew, in some combination. Four in the morning; four in the afternoon. Jester had been shot down once by Iceman and Slider. Cain had been at least once by everyone. That lended credibility to Maverick's developing “here to sabotage TOPGUN” theory.

“We’ve been going up separately,” Cain explained as he put on his flight suit. “Jester wanted us to start going up together in week four.”

“Fine by me,” Maverick nodded.

“I’ve got Cougar, Merlin, Sundown, and Chipper for day. You can take the other four for afternoon.”

The two superior officers had their own locker room. Brand new too. Viper had made a lot of updates to Miramar since Maverick's last stay. The fancy commander-and-higher locker room was by the offices. Which Maverick thought was hilarious because Cain still had to go all the way back to the classrooms if he forgot something at his desk. Because he didn’t have an office on that side of the building. Maverick, per Viper’s orders, avoided the classrooms that Monday. He was a surprise for the afternoon hops victims. Participants. Same thing. 

While everyone played with computers, Maverick went up in a Skyhawk. It wasn’t quite as lithe as he liked, but it would do. Eventually, his two sets of duos were in the air with him. He waited while they searched for him. Comms were on between all three planes (and the base).

“I didn’t even see Hammer go up,” someone said.

“I swear he was still running sims with Blackwood when we left the room,” another one added.

“Maybe they found an extra instructor? Or maybe Jester recovered sooner,” the first person again.

“You think it’s Viper?” the second person laughed.

“No way. Guy hasn’t flown since Korea,” first person.

A third voice chimed in, “Can you two shut up and focus.”

“Eyes peeled,” the fourth and final voice.

Maverick grinned under his mask. 

“Sorry Ice,” the first two voices said together.

He could see the two Tomcats searching for him. Maverick had never flown a Tomcat; he’d have to ask Viper if he could get up in one. He wasn’t sure how well it would maneuver against the Skyhawk. He knew from the spec sheets that the younger aviators would have him on speed. 

“Slider?” It was the fourth voice again. Iceman, Mav deduced.

“Nothing,” Slider, Mav assumed, answered. The source of the mysterious third voice.

“Maybe Hammer hasn’t launched yet?” Hollywood or Wolfman suggested.

“He couldn’t have if he was still in the classroom,” the other one added.

Mav got bored. He clicked his comms on and soared past them.

“Fight’s on, gentlemen,” he announced.

There was a chorus of “who the fuck was that” over the radio. Maverick chuckled to himself. The aviators, for safety purposes, couldn’t switch to a private channel. Their CO, Maverick in this case (how weird was it he was someone’s CO), had to be able to hear them in case of emergencies. So Maverick got to listen as Iceman and Slider immediately took control.

Iceman took point; Hollywood on his wing. Slider and Wolfman may as well have been speaking a different, backseater language. Mav guessed it was for his location. They’d say a position; their pilots would immediately fall in. 

“Wood, got a shot?” Iceman asked.

“Almost, almost, almost,” came Hollywood’s response.

The Skyhawk didn’t have the speed of the Tomcat. It more than made up for it with handling. Mav tipped his nose until the momentum forced the plane up vertically. He braked, he had to, and flew past Hollywood and Wolfman. 

“What the fuck!?”

“What happened?!”

“Ice?”

“Hmmph.”

Mav leveled out and got tone.

“That’s tone, gentlemen,” he said.

Hollywood and Wolfman swore as they broke off.

“Then there were two,” Mav tried a joke.

No response over the radio. Mav scanned the skies, but he couldn’t find the second Tomcat. He must have lost them after his cobra maneuver. With all this newfound silence, Maverick wondered how the two aviators were communicating. Their records showed they had been together since flight school. They both attended Annapolis; same graduation year. More deduction, but Mav guessed they knew each other back then too. Spend enough time with anyone, and you could convey a lot without sound.

He saw their shadow by pure chance. Mav probably couldn’t pull off the same stunt twice. Especially not in a plane that wasn’t designed for it. Iceman was good, but Maverick had been flying at least as long as that kid had been alive. Which was to say “but Maverick was better.”

He pulled right but didn’t brake. The Skyhawk curved around and down; the Tomcat followed after a beat. A very brief and unnoticable pause, but a pause nonetheless.

“Ice?”

“Fuck.”

Flying a Skyhawk was like riding a bike apparently.

Maverick was giddy as he announced, “Tone, gentlemen!”

Maverick had a terrible idea. Terribly hilarious. Iceman’s file had been nothing but commendation after praise after praise. Nary a punishment, penalty, nor penance to be found.

“Iceman. Kazansky, right?” Mav put on his best senior officer voice, “I want to see you in Jester’s office after this.”

“Yessir,” there was no hesitation in the younger man’s response.

Mav took his time landing. He contemplated buzzing the tower, but thought better on his first day. Favor for Viper and all that. Maverick figured it would take the younger pilot some time to work up the nerve to actually report to his office immediately. So he showered, blissfully alone, and changed. 

Kazansky was still in his flight suit. He stood outside of Jester's/Maverick's office door. He'd probably been there minutes after he landed. Maverick pursed his lips but didn't say anything. He unlocked the door and gestured for Iceman to enter. Mav sat at the empty desk; Kazanksy stood there. Awaiting further instructions.

He was hot; it was unfair to have such a hot student. Kazansky looked like a catalog model. Sharp features, blue eyes, soft lips. His hair was plastered down from sweat and his helmet. The sleeves of his flight suit were pushed up, showing off his thick, tanned arms. Maverick felt his mouth go a bit dry, and he tried not to stare too much. 

“You could have showered,” Mav said with a grin.

“You said you wanted to see me, sir,” Kazansky replied.

“I did, didn’t I?”

No response.

“Commander Pete Mitchell, callsign Maverick,” Maverick extended his hand, “I’m filling in for Jester, as you’ve probably guessed.”

Kazansky looked… Confused for a second. Mav guessed he was used to saluting, but the lieutenant shook his hand and introduced himself.

“Have a seat,” Mav pointed to Jester’s desk chair, “I wanna ask you about some things in your file.”

“My file?” Iceman raised an eyebrow. He moved the desk chair and sat.

“Yeah, it’s all blacked out because of Charlie’s clearance I’m guessing.”

“By all means, sir. I’m an open book.”

They chatted. Eventually, Kazansky appeared to relax. Mav tried not to let his gaze linger too long on him. He really did try, but… Well, Mav always had a problem with self control.

Iceman and Slider had also been in the Mediterranean (Mav was unofficially there, but he didn’t say anything about that) aboard the America . They had been on patrol when they were fired upon by Libyan surface-to-air missiles. And again not even a month after that while escorting other jets for another mission. No casualties; impeccable flying. Their CO recommended them for the next TOPGUN class; they flew in a few days before it started.

“Damn, so you really haven’t had a breather,” Mav whistled.

Kazansky shrugged, “Part of the job, sir.”

“I guess.”

Mav couldn’t think of a reason to keep him there. He was about to dismiss the lieutenant when Kazansky started asking him about his own service record. Maverick’s reputation apparently preceded him. Time flew by. Before long, Maverick finally noticed the sun setting over the hangars.

“Shit, kid. It’s getting late,” Mav remarked.

Kazansky flushed, “Sorry, sir.”

“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind. You probably want to shower.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Here,” Maverick scribbled his address and number down, “Whenever you wanna pick this back up. I’m here until graduation.”

Kazansky took the scrap paper and thanked him. He hesitated before saluting and leaving. Maverick hated to see him leave but enjoyed watching him go. Christ, he was depraved. Kazansky was a student. His student. His well toned student with a small waist. Deep eyes… Birthmark in the perfect spot to kiss… Perfect lips… Wonder what sounds he could pull from those lips…

Okay, yeah.

Maverick was definitely in trouble.

No.

He’d be fine. Mav was a professional. He could keep his hands (and everything else) to himself.

Iceman

Iceman was definitely in trouble. 

The new instructor looked like he stepped right off a movie set. Gorgeous smile, gorgeous eyes, gorgeous everything. The way his eyes crinkled when Maverick laughed? Gorgeous. His slightly crooked nose? Gorgeous.

He’d heard of Maverick, but he hadn’t had a face for the name. He was a legend, of course; a thorn in the brass’ side. Ice had a million more questions for the commander. 

Slider was waiting for him in the locker room. Everyone else was long gone. The RIO continued waiting until his pilot was ready to talk. Ice shucked his flight suit. He desperately kept his thoughts off Maverick as he stood under the water. Slider leaned against the wall, waiting and watching. He wasn’t necessarily watching Ice shower. His gaze drifted past Ice, to the wall behind him.

“You didn't have to wait,” he tried telling his friend.

“I'm your ride, Ice,” Slider replied.

“Oh. Yeah, right.”

“Who even was that? It wasn't Cain. Cougar and them said Hammer was in the classroom.”

“New commander,” Ice willed his tone to be light. 

“Jester's replacement?” Slider asked.

Ice nodded.

“What’d he want?”

Iceman shrugged, “Chat, I guess.”

“About what?” Slider raised an eyebrow.

“Prairie Fire and Canyon.”

“Weird.”

“It was alright,” Ice said, “Maverick’s alright.”

“Like Maverick Mitchell?” Slider let out a low whistle. “He’s our new instructor?”

“Guess so.”

Index Next Chapter

[love-domme]

Today’s Thought: Passenger Princesses

I’m not a big fan of driving but if I had a cute little sub with a vibrator in their hole while we were on a long road trip it would probably change my mind. Seeing them grind down on the toy in the beginning, desperately chasing their high until they reach it and cum hard, staining their pants. After that first orgasm….the real fun begins.

Now they’re doing everything in their power to pull away but it’s useless. Their seatbelt digs into their chest as they strain against the car seat, moaning, drool falling from their open mouth as they fog up the car window.

Of course it’s a remote control vibrator that I could switch off at any moment, but why would I interrupt the show when it’s only just started.

Maybe if I’m feeling nice I’ll pull into an empty car station and fuck them with the vibrator until they can’t form coherent thoughts. Leaving them cum covered and fucked out until we get to our destination.

[wesleysniperking]

Straw Hat Aircrew

I recently read a book about commercial planes and how the flight crew have to work together to get sh*t done and keep everyone safe, and I couldn't help but think of the Straw Hats.

In a given scenario of what-ifs and dire situations (like if it was one of those movies where some of the passengers—along with a bit of inexperienced air crew members find themselves having to fly a plane and get everyone to safety) what each Straw Hat would do. This is a mix of old and new aircrew/airline positions.

Usopp and Nami would have to both be captains. But I think Usopp would make a good Airborne Sensor Operator too—he’d somehow know how to gather information from an airborne platform. They'd both have to tell the pilots and officers what to do and where to go. I believe Nami would actually talk frequently with the air traffic controller, needing to know where to land and the closest airport. If the air traffic controller (ATC) was being an a**hole she’d set them straight. Usopp would be telling the first officer, second officer, and third officer where to go. He's one of the best communicators and strategists in the crew and would use his fear to his advantage. He can work extremely well under pressure. He'd be able to lead this thing. Mitigated speech would be out the window! Yet, I think Usopp and Nami would take turns sitting in the left seat

The officers (co-pilot, second officer, and third officer) would be the monster trio. Now I know this sounds crazy. But if you think about it, they're the three people in the crew who always jump into action. When sh*t gets serious they perform miracles. Luffy would immediately start attempting to fly the plane, Zoro would be the second one to jump in the piloting chair (but he’d need to listen to Usopp and Nami very very CLOSELY), and Sanji would initially be in a cabin position or in the parser role (cabin crew team leader), but he'd have to jump into that piloting chair if need be and help fly the d*mm thing since that's who Sanji is. He be manning the ship wheel sometimes in canon. Then Robin would take over as parser and reassure the passengers that everything is A-okay (morbid humor aside). Besides, Oda said Robin would be a flight attendant in the real world.

Franky would be the flight engineer (he'd be the dude who knows the ends and outs of the plane). Operating the complex airsystems. He'd have to let the captains and pilots know if an engines been blown out or what’s been damaged. He'd let them know how much gas is in the plane and if they're going to “land heavy”.

Chopper would be the flight medic who'd be there if a passenger so happened to be experiencing a medical emergency such as a passenger passing out or something like that. He'd communicate effectively with another medic/doctor (maybe someone like Law or Marco) stationed somewhere remotely who would tell him exactly what to do based on the specific ailment or issue.

Brook would be part of the cabin crew (stewards/flight attendant, parser, etc), and Jinbe would be part of the flight deck operations (with the captains and officers). If he needed to take over as a pilot (a bored/distracted Luffy or Zoro having issues like arguing with Sanji), he'd take over. So he'd be part of the relief crew. Brook would be a flight attendant, but he'd be a cool one who before take off tells the passengers how to be safe what to hold onto, and what not to do. What’s prohibited and not. Crack funny jokes and sing.

The Straw Hat crew would save the day and make a miracle landing.

Usopp fan club if interested…👀

[punkette1026]

Thunder Rolls

Summary: As a thunderstorm rolls into town, you can't help but go down memory lane reliving how much life has changed for you. For Joel, it brings pain and sorrow and a request that you just can't just say no too.

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Fluff, mentions of character death, pregnancy

This is my first Joel fanfic! Please be gentle, but I am open to feedback.

Also shoutout to our amazing discord group pascal's fan net for the inspiration for this story. You are all amazing writers

You have been awake for a while now. The sounds of a thunderstorm off in the distance and the sudden cold breeze that came through the opened window in your bedroom were enough to wake you from your sleep. You could have fallen back to sleep, but your parched throat forced you to get out of bed and walk downstairs to get a glass of water. As you pass the last bedroom before you get to the stairs, you peek in and see Ellie fast asleep snuggled in her bed. She was such a sound sleeper that not even the storm brewing outside was enough to wake her. You were so happy to have her in your life and you couldn’t believe how fast she was growing into a remarkable young woman. Just thinking about it, causes you momentarily to go down memory lane…

You had met Joel and Elle three years prior in an abandoned mall in Montana. You were reminiscing on the days pre outbreak as a young teen where you would spend hours on the weekends shopping with friends and eating your weight in junk at the food court. Joel and Ellie had caught you by surprise in a decaying clothing store as you were trying to find something remotely useful and that would fit your tiny frame. As you came out of the backroom of the store, you were met face to face with a hunting rifle. You could recall Joel looking like he hadn't slept in weeks and poor Ellie was dressed in nothing but a hospital gown and what you can only guess was Joel’s jacket protecting her from the cold chill in the air. 

After a brief standoff that felt like hours, you both concluded that neither parties meant no harm and had agreed to go your separate ways no questions asked. However, Ellie had been the one to protest and had asked if you would tag along with them. At first Joel protested, alluding to the fact that he and Ellie were on the run and they didn’t have time to carry around anymore “cargo” with them. They had to get back to Jackson to warn his brother Tommy what had happened days prior. After a quick argument and one look of disapproval from Ellie was all it took for Joel to give in and allow you to tag along with him on the condition you listen to every word he said or he wouldn’t think twice to shoot you.

You and Ellie hit it off right away like you had known each other your entire life. It was nice to have another person yet alone, another girl to talk to even though she was ten years younger than you. You both gossiped over everything you had been through and both took joy in teasing Joel over how much control Ellie had over him. All of which he would roll his eyes and let out an occasional mumble that you couldn’t make out. You would take that reaction though. Joel was one tough egg to crack. He was one big mystery. He would only speak a few words to you here and there. Always keeping his distance. You would often hear Ellie snapping at him, telling him that he needed to be nice and that you never did anything to deserve such a cold response. 

That seemed to change something in Joel because one night before you reached Jackson, during your night watch, he approached you as you overlooked the ridgeline. You both sat there in silence until you decided to make the first move. You started to open up to him, telling him how you became alone after watching your family get picked off one by one either by raiders or the infected, how you then bounced from QZ to QZ, and everything in between up until the moment you met him and Ellie. You didn’t expect him to tell you anything back. You just wanted to tell him more about you in order for him to trust you. However, in total surprise, Joel opened up to you, sharing his journey. He told you everything from his former partner Tess, how he reunited with his brother Tommy, and the most shocking, what happened with the Fireflies and Ellie. That night opened a new world for you both. From then on you both grew closer sharing glances, smiles and the occasional need to feel each other's touch when Ellie wasn't looking. 

When you got to Jackson, the feelings didn't stop there. When Tommy offered you your own place to stay, Joel quickly protested. He claimed there was no need to take up space that another person can use when he and Ellie had a home big enough to fit all three of you. The real reason though, he couldn’t stand being away from you. He needed you by side. He needed to protect you. You felt the same. Joel made you feel at peace. He eased your mind when it ran into overdrive and he became a shoulder to lean on when you need to cry. Some nights after a long day of patrolling, you would cuddle up by the fireplace, him with whiskey and you with wine, and you would unravel what happened that day. It was one of these nights that you shared your first kiss deciding to give a relationship a try. 

It went on for a few months with some bumps along the way. An occasional fight or two that ended up with both parties apologizing and making love till the sun came up. Neither one had said the dreaded words I love you yet, as they were both afraid of the other's reaction. Everything came to a head one day though after a scouting trip went horribly wrong. You had been ordered to go out with a scouting party to investigate a fire off in the distance. Joel had begged you not to go and to stay with him. He had been on the mend after spraining his ankle, tripping over Ellie’s jacket that she left on the floor one night. You told him that you needed to go. Tommy had given you an order and you had to follow it. That led to the mother of all fights and you ended up storming out telling Joel you didn’t think this relationship thing would work out. The next time he saw you, you were being carried to the infirmary after being shot twice. It turns out the fire ended up being a trap by a group of raiders looking to make trouble. No one could stop Joel as he forced his way into your hospital room crying that he loved you and that he was sorry for fighting with you. You ended up surviving of course but it was a long road to recovery and Joel was there with you every step of the way. Giving you all the love and attention you needed.

As you stood there reminiscing, a flash of light followed by a loud clap of thunder was enough to bring you out of your thoughts. Quickly heading downstairs, you grabbed your glass of water before making your way back upstairs to your room as the storm finally made its way into Jackson. 

Getting gently back into bed being careful to not to wake Joel, your now husband of over a year, another clap of thunder rocked your house. This one was loud enough to stir him. You could hear small whimpers coming his mouth and the bed sheets that covered his naked body started to move. Looking over, you could see sweat start to form above his brow and the whimpering started to get louder. It was obvious he was having a nightmare. You became torn with waking him or just letting it play out. However the decision was made for you when another clap of thunder came from above causing Joel to jolt up.

“Sarah!” he shouted in a painful scream as he jumped up fully awake. You watch as he tries to get his bearings and figure out where he was. After a moment or two with his chest gasping for air, he turned to look at you, “What…what happened?”

“You were having a nightmare baby,” you console him, sitting up and running your hand up and down his naked back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Joel looked down in shame and shook his head. You knew Sarah was still a touchy subject for him. Even after all these years and now married, she was something that Joel rarely talked about. You didn’t mind though and you didn’t push. You knew what happened to her and how tragic it was, but other than that, she was off limits. Sarah was Joel’s business and his alone. You knew when the timing was right, Joel would tell you everything about her. Until then, you were here for him anyway you could be.

“Do you think you can go back to sleep or do you want to go sit by the fire? It’s still dark out,” you ask him, placing a kiss on his shoulder.

“I jus wanna lay here, but do…do you think…nevermind.”

You sat up a little bit more, this time wrapping your arms around his midsection, resting your cheek on his broad back, “What is it Joel? You know you can ask me anything baby.”

He turned to look at you with tears filling his chocolate colored eyes, “Do you think you can hold me? I don’t think I can go back to sleep without it.”

“Of course baby, you never have to ask me. Lay back down and I’ll do my best,” you tell him as you usher him back to bed.

With Joel on his side, you maneuver behind him wrapping one arm around him, while the other folds behind your head, “Is this good?” He nodded and took your hand, intertwining his with yours. 

As you lay there, you listened to the rain that was pouring down now. Joel’s breath had returned to normal and you thought the rain had lulled him to sleep. However out of nowhere, he let out a chuckle. “What is it?” you ask.

“He’s kicking me,” he chuckles once again, feeling tiny thumps against his back.

You look down at your growing belly that was nestled between you, “It’s because he knows his daddy needs him. He doesn’t like seeing his daddy upset.”

Joel rolled over to look at you and placed his hands on your belly, “It’s okay little guy. Daddy just had a nightmare about your sister. She would have loved you.”

“Joel you don’t…”

“No it’s okay,” he interrupts, “He needs to know about her. I want both of you to know her. I just…I just need more time. Be patient with me.”

You take his hand from your belly and bring it up to your lips, giving it a gentle kiss, “We are here for you. We love you and will always be here for you.”

He gave you his signature smirk, the one where his dimple showed. The one you hoped that your son would inherit. “I love you too darlin. You, Ellie and mini me are my entire world. Thank you for choosing and having me.”

“The pleasure is all mine Mr. Miller. Now roll back over. Momma needs her sleep and you know Ellie is bound to come running in here the first thing in the morning. You know how much she loves the rain.”

“Yes ma’am! Just watch my back kiddo. Daddy has a bad back and is getting old,” he smirked one last time before leaning down to give you and your belly a kiss before rolling over. 

You once again wrap your arms around him and pull him as tight as you could, before letting out a peaceful sigh. The rain at this point has calmed and the thunder is no more. It wasn’t long before you both found sleep again. This was all you needed, just Ellie and your boys all nestled in bed, safe and sound and loved in this apocalyptic filled world. Nothing else mattered. Nothing.

[monoc1ca]

Murder Drones Theories/Observations !!!

I'm sure any Murder Drones fans(myself included) are excited for the final episodes to be released soon! But, I've made some observations from the currently existing episodes that I'm not sure if anyone has brought up yet. Here are my points!

(Brace yourself, this may get lengthy)

Let's get into the longer stuff first. In episode 5, we are taken into N's memories and see what life was like for them while they worked for Tessa's rich family. I think it's worth noting that the disassembly drones that we know in the present time have yellow eyes. However, in these past memories, they have white eyes.

Pay attention to the glow of the eyes, since it can get difficult to tell sometimes. Even if the yellow appears white sometimes, you can see the blurred yellow glow if you look closely. Here's a better comparison with past CYN and N:

Maybe they(N, J, and V) haven't become disassembly drones yet? Honestly I don't think we even know what a disassembly drone is. Actually wait, N actually says exactly that: "Aren't you worried we have no idea what we even are?!" (from episode 3, time 4:22)

On the subject of eyes, I see people commonly confusing some colours with others. Doll has orange eyes, and Alice's eye colour sits somewhere in between Doll's colour and the disassembly drone colour.

Idk it's like a copper?? Or they're the same and Doll's eyes are just dimmer than Alice's. The point is, they don't have yellow eyes. I'm mentioning this because the only drones we've seen associated with the colour yellow are the disassembly drones. Moving on!

At the end of episode 1, the last shot we see is this:

You can probably see that this resembles the symbol of the absolute solver. Of course, I don't know what these devices are - satellites, cannons, or even landing pods or whatever - but this makes me think that the solver originates from off the planet and operates remotely. Additionally, it's been said that the Absolute Solver "took CYN as a host". So CYN and the Solver are not the same; they are separate entities. Or at least, they were. (We don't see CYN acting as a normal drone at any point, only as taken over by Solver.)

+ Other small details I noticed!

1- The lace headpiece that J, V, and CYN wear in episode 5 all have eyeball patterns on them. (resembling the Solver's signature tubular eye cameras)

2- The binary code around the window says "01101110 1110101 1101100 1101100". Using a conversion site translates it to "null"

3- The Copper system appears to be the furthest from Earth(based on what is shown), and at least 2 colonized planets excluding Copper 9 have been taken over by Solver. Earth has also been taken over/destroyed by the Solver.

(the distance shown is not accurate to distance between planets, these are merely how I put the separate frames next to each other)

4- V is a zombie drone? Her eye screen displayed a 'Fatal Error' message earlier in episode 5 like other drones in the library, after which she ends up sporting the same wings and crazed state that Uzi had in episode 4.

Adding onto this, while she is in her zombie mode her lights are yellow. After Uzi hacks into the Solver's body and lets go of V, her eyes are back to white and her behaviour is normal. - This is visible from a little before 18:00 mins. into episode 5 and the seconds that follow.

5- Tessa and CYN have the same hairstyle.

I don't personally think this holds deeper meaning, since it's said that Tessa gives her favourite drones their hair. Oh I just noticed, CYN has the bow too!

6- The doll that CYN disassembles.

I don't understand why this was shown in great focus in episode 5. The only thing I can possibly think of is that it implies that the Solver can take control of biological beings, like humans? I'm not really convinced on this, but this and my previous observation about CYN and Tessa could add on to the theory that's been going around that Tessa is being controlled by the Solver. Maybe if we saw present Tessa with her helmet off we could se what colour her eyes are?

lol jk I know the humans being silhouettes is a stylistic choice.

And that's the end! Feel free to correct me or add on to anything I've theorized about here.

Thanks for reading!

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

This happening very recently, but I was replaying to another fan about the whole thing with the fandom being mad at Marinette about not telling Adrien about his father and about him being a senti monster and how it was dumb that the fandom was (going into a lot of the fandom making fanfic of Adrien leaving Marinette because of her lying and then turn around to complain.)

I, at first, said that I understand the fandom’s criticism because that moment seems OOC for Marinette to keep Gabriel’s secret and that if Marinette loved Adrien, she’d tell him the truth, regardless on him leaving or not.

They responded (to sum it up) that Marinette hates lies yes, but she keeps lies to protect the ones she loves. She does it all of the time. And her keeping a secret has nothing to do with the fear of loosing Adrien, but everything with his safety.

They then responded some more but I can’t get into cus…they blocked me…after I basically said they had Vaild points but I wouldn’t blame Adrien for leaving Marinette if he found out. I see both of their POV’s

My over all thoughts on this is that…I do understand why Marinette did the things she did, but it doesn’t erase the fact that it feels…icky that Adrien has little to no knowledge or anatomy over himself. The knowledge and anatomy lies with his partner…

So….thoughts?

So I disagree that this lie protects Adrien. It might keep him emotionally safe, but it risks his physical safety since he has two magical remote controls that aren't exactly well kept secrets. Marinette has no idea who all knows about them and she should be assuming that the new butterfly is in the know since the butterfly clearly knew about Emilie's hidden chamber.

If Marinette had kept the rings, then you could make the argument that she's keeping him safe in the best way that she can while still protecting the rest of the world since there is a solid argument to be made for not exposing her secrets while there's still an ongoing threat, but that argument's out the window since she gave the rings to Adrien! She made him the unknowing guardian of his own freedom in a world where jewelry theft is a common teenage past time. That's really, really, really bad and you cannot logically justify that choice.

With that being said, I can actually buy Marinette not telling Adrien right away. He just lost his father and, as previously said, telling Adrien probably means exposing her secret identity, which is a huge deal when the butterfly is still at large. I do think that she'd cave pretty quickly, though, because the guilt would eat her alive. I think that she'd quickly start having nightmares about him losing the rings and other such stuff that would quickly poison their relationship.

However, I also feel like this is yet another case of Marinette getting an unfair amount of blame for a thing that isn't all on her. Yes, she needs to tell him, but she's a late comer to this party who only knows the details second hand. Heck, I've said before that I'm not even totally sure that she knows that Adrien is a sentimonster because Felix's play was rather vague about Adrien and Kagami's status.

But you know who is fully in the know about everything? Felix! And Kagami! And Nathalie! And probably Amelie, too. People who are also supposed to love Adrien and want what's best for him. People who have also told him diddly squat even though they knew long before Marinette did, yet I don't see anyone complaining about them.

Kagami in particular really grinds my gears because I especially don't buy her keeping this from Adrien. She's the queen of confrontation who literally called him up to yell at him for being such a push over after seeing a freaking marketing photo! Does anyone actually buy her keeping the senti stuff from Adrien for literal months? In a lot of ways, I actually think Kagami and Felix should be the ones to tell Adrien because they know so much more than Marinette and because they share his status so he won't feel so alone.

Basically, the fact that Adrien doesn't know isn't the result of good writing, it's the hand of the author taking corporal form and sewing everyone's mouths shut because the writers either don't want to deal with this issue or they want to milk it out for drama in the coming seasons. Do I like that Marinette is keeping this a secret? No, but she's not doing it because she wants to. She's doing it because she's a fictional character whose writers are really bad at handling both serious topics and satisfying reveals. I haven't read any post season five fics but I'm sure that they'd annoy me just as much as the fics that deal with the season four conflict by heaping all the blame at Marinette's feet and holding no one else accountable for their actions or lack there of.

[phoebespenglers]

the whole idea of gumball is that it's self aware, right. like. there are multiple characters in the show who know they live in a tv show - rob, sarah, and banana barbara to an extent. but they don't control what goes on in it.

that's not to say they haven't tried, though. intentionally or non-intentionally.

rob is gumball's nemesis and is constantly trying to foil him, but always ends up getting defeated (poor rob. he doesn't deserve that) because he's the show's antagonist and the second he beats gumball, which won't happen - the universe probably implodes (we have seen this happen, btw. when something happens in the World that isn't meant to, such as richard getting a job, the laws of the universe go out the fucking window.) rob can't control shit, even if he's tried by getting the universal remote or turning the characters into humans.

and then we have sarah in "the shippening", who accidentally stumbles upon the CN magic writing book that causes anything one writes in it to come to life - of course, sarah isn't aware it has this power and that she can, essentially, control the entire world until gumball and darwin jump in to stop her from destroying everything. sarah isn't going to destroy the World, though. she's not an enemy of gumball - she's one of his best friends. but she also knows that she's living in a tv show, as referenced in MULTIPLE episodes (such as "the fan" where she sings the outro music), though she doesn't really seem to have an issue with that lol, like rob does. anyway. the point is, she has accidentally tried to control the world and failed because of gumball's interference.

and finally, we have banana barbara. and she's. well. i think her "burnout" did fry her brain, but it also opened her mind. like. she knows more than she can physically let on, so she paints to communicate. she definitely knows the World is ending. she was predicting the future all the way back in season 3, in "the oracle" with the watterson family void painting, which is honestly. really fucking good foreshadowing by the writers. lol. one could also say that she controls the future, since it's shown in "the future" that anything she paints will come true, so she can choose to change the future - but actually, that would be incorrect!! she can only paint "what's left" of the future. which is. ominous. also, she seems to deliberately choose not to fuck everything up with her painting powers, and whether she is doing this intentionally because she knows how much damage that would cause, or non-intentionally because she's too off in her own world, i don't know. banana barbara i am Staring at you.

but anyway. my point is, these side characters have tried to control what happens in the show through their own means, but have ultimately been unsuccessful. and why is that?

because the show isn't called "the amazing world of rob" or "the amazing world of sarah" or "the amazing world of banana barbara". it's the amazing world of gumball. this is GUMBALL'S world. yk why his ego is so goddamn huge??? because he is inadvertently controlling the entire world and what goes on in it. whether the other characters like it or not, this is HIS WORLD and he can do whatever the fuck he wants in it! the world quite literally revolves around him! but here's the thing. he has one Major disadvantage.

he doesn't know that he lives in a tv show, like the other three do.

he can't see that "none of this is real". he has no idea. he thinks he lives in this perfect little world where "nothing can go wrong". and because of this, he has no idea that he CONTROLS it all. he controls it all naturally. because that's how he is. egotistical. he thinks the world revolves around him, because it DOES, but he doesn't actually know it does. which makes him all the more powerful and also really fucking dangerous. because he's unpredictable. we don't KNOW wtf he's gonna do to affect the show, whereas rob, sarah, and bb are all doing what they do whilst knowing they are in a tv show.

which is literally why gumball watterson caused the downfall of his own tv show. HE made rob like that. HE made rob figure out that he lived in a tv show after putting him in the void, which caused him to do all of that shit with the remote and trying to turn the characters into humans. had gumball not villainized rob, the show probably could've ended more normally. and like, obviously this was a writing choice from the shows' creators but if we look at it like this then - yeah. show plot-wise, gumball started and ended the show. or - he's going to end it. eventually.

what i'm getting at here is since there's going to be a s7, i have a prediction that in the last episode or two (if they do a two parter) gumball is going to somehow figure out that he lives in a tv show. maybe from rob, maybe from previous events that foreshadowed this happening. idk. and in the final moments of the show, everything will be getting destroyed. there will be no resolution in sight. and why is that?

because gumball has not yet accepted that it's time for the show to end.

so he's faced with two choices:

1. let the creators end the show against his will (because, obviously, they are the powers that be here) with no resolution because this can't go on forever. everyone is suffering, getting sucked into the void, etc. the audience is left unhappy, like they were at the end of s6.

2. the better option. he accepts that the show is ending and stops the suffering in the process - because, again, he controls everything. the ending of the show is gumball accepting that it's over. they've had a good run, but it's time to go now. and with that, the show ends. credits roll. tears are probably shed.

THAT is how i think they should end the show. anyway.

[aughby]

It was well known that Yuki Ishikawa had a cold exterior when playing volleyball. His silence-spiking spikes terrified fans as much as they admired them. Among the sea of supporters, one jolly girl named Andy stood out like a sunflower in a snowstorm. She was at every game, cheering loudly, carrying banners, and at times she was the one who initiated the wave.

Yuki made the sneaky decision to buy some bread one bright afternoon in a small town since even cold athletes need carbohydrates. The smell of freshly baked goodies engulfed him as soon as he slipped into an unknown bakery. He was about to pick up a loaf when he heard the distinct sound of heated chatter outside.

Looking through the window, he saw a crowd of fans gathering, taking pictures, and eagerly awaiting his appearance. "A bread mob, that's great," he muttered. With no security in sight, Yuki thought about hiding behind the croissant display.

A kind voice asked, "Need a hand?" The owner of the bakery, a cheerful man with hair covered in flour, grinned at him. "You look like you could use an escape plan."

Yuki nodded while making an effort to keep his expression neutral. "If it's not too much trouble."

The man said, "Follow me," and led the way out a back door and through the kitchen. "Why don't you wait at my house until things calm down? It's just next door."

Yuki, with little choice, nodded. He heard someone belting out a passionate (if somewhat off-key) rendition of a pop song as soon as they entered the little house.

Yuki had no idea that Andy was in the living room, pulling out his concert mode and using a remote control as a microphone. She became so immersed in her act, with her eyes closed, that she failed to notice one famous volleyball player had joined her crowd.

The family dog covered its ears when she attempted a high note in her song, "🎶 And I will always love you!."

Yuki stood there, feeling both amused and like she should retreat in silence. Andy suddenly spun around dramatically, and when she opened her eyes, Yuki was staring at her with a blank expression on her face.

They both froze.

"Y-Yuki Ishikawa?!" she stumbled and almost dropped her "microphone." "Am I dreaming? Did I blow a whistle loud enough to call you here?" she asked.

His eyebrow went up. "If that's what you call it."

Her dad laughed behind her back. "Found him hiding in the bakery. Thought he'd be safer here."

Andy's expression brightened up like a strawberry tart. "So, you've been... standing there the whole time?"

"Long enough to hear the... performance," Yuki said, pursing his lips a tiny bit.

She let out a groan. "This is worse than the time I got stuck in the mascot costume."

She pulled herself together, trying to be as positive as she always was. "Well, welcome to our home! Bread?" she said, extending the loaf he had purchased, which was now a little squashed from the chaos.

At last, he gave in to it and cracked a little smile. "Thanks."

The room fell silent awkwardly, interrupted only when the dog reluctantly came back to watch Andy suspiciously.

"I apologize for the last-minute concert," she remarked, seeming apologetic.

He gave a shrug. "I've heard worse."

She smiled. "Was that a joke? From Yuki Ishikawa? Should I alert the media?"

He looked out the window, where the silhouettes of fans were still visible. "Preferably not."

Yuki scanned his environment. There were family portraits hanging on the walls of the comfortable living room. He saw a shelf filled with mementos related to volleyball. When he looked closer, he saw that the majority of it was... him.

He said, "Impressive collection," as Andy came back.

She almost let the water glass fall. "Oh gosh, you weren't supposed to see that!"

He picked up a bobblehead that had a striking resemblance to himself but that the head was much bigger than the body. He lightly tapped it and observed how it wobbled. "I didn't know these existed."

She put her hands over her face. "They don't. I... might have made that one."

He gave a blink. "You made a bobblehead of me?"

She used her fingers to give him a quick glimpse. "I'm a big fan."

With caution, he placed the bobblehead down. "So I've noticed."

The sound of faraway fans chattering outdoors only interrupted the uneasy silence that descended. Andy had a sudden idea.

"Hey, if we can convince them you've already left, they'll go away!"

He folded his arms. "And how do you propose we do that?"

She gave me a cheeky smile. "Follow me."

She took hold of his hand and dragged him upstairs to her room before he could object. She opened her window, leaned out, and addressed the crowd. "Hey everyone! Yuki just ran down the street towards the park!"

The crowd went wild, running in the direction she indicated. In a short while, the street was abandoned.

Yuki looked at her, astonished. "That actually worked."

She smiled. "Never underestimate the power of misdirection."

He glanced around her room and saw more handcrafted items: a crayon painting of him as a superhero, complete with cape, and a knit scarf featuring his jersey number.

"You're... very creative," he said.

She gave a sheepish shrug. "Art helps me express myself. Plus, it passes the time between games."

He took up the sketch made with a crayon. "Is this supposed to be me saving the world from... giant volleyballs?"

With enthusiasm, she nodded. "They're not just volleyballs—they're meteors! And you're the only one who can spike them back into space."

He was unable to resist. A laugh slipped out of him. "That's... quite the imagination."

She gave a sharp gasp. "Did Yuki Ishikawa just laugh? In my house? Am I dreaming?"

He rolled his eyes, yet there was still an aura of humor. "Don't get used to it."

Her father called from downstairs at that very moment. "Looks like the coast is clear!"

Yuki looked at his timepiece. "I should get going. There's a game to prepare for."

Andy led the way to the entrance. "Good luck tonight. Not that you need it."

He held back. "Thank you. And... thanks for your help."

She smirked and saluted. "Anytime you need an undercover escape, you know where to find me."

He turned back as he went outside. "By the way, you might want to work on those high notes."

She opened her mouth, pretending to be offended. "I'll have you know, my singing has been described as 'uniquely tolerable.'"

He grinned. "I'll keep that in mind."

Andy called after him as he left. "Don't forget to save the world from those volleyball meteors!"

With a slight smile on his face, he shook his head. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to be a little less chilly after all.

Yuki recognized a face in the audience that night as he was standing on the court. "Spike those meteors!" was written on a homemade banner that Andy was waving.

He laughed inside. Perhaps this town wasn't so bad.

The game that night was intense. Yuki, as always, played with precision and focus, his signature spikes cutting through the air like a blade. Yet, every now and then, his eyes wandered toward the stands, where Andy waved her ridiculous "Spike those meteors!" banner with unabashed enthusiasm.

Despite the seriousness of the match, Yuki couldn't help but feel a strange lightness in his chest. It wasn't like him to be distracted, especially during a game. But something about Andy’s endless energy and her goofy creativity made him feel... human, almost like he was allowed to enjoy the moment for once.

The game ended in victory for Yuki’s team, as expected. After shaking hands with the opposing team, Yuki caught himself looking for Andy. It wasn't hard to spot her, jumping up and down, her face lit up like a child on Christmas morning.

As he headed towards the locker room, his teammates started teasing him.

"Hey, Yuki, you seemed a little distracted out there today," one of them nudged him. "You keeping an eye on the crowd?"

Another chimed in, grinning. "Yeah, I saw that girl with the crazy banner. She your number one fan or something?"

Yuki shot them a cold glare, the kind that usually shut down any further teasing. But today, it only half-worked.

"Oooh, look at that! He’s getting soft!" one of them teased, backing off with a laugh.

Yuki shook his head and quickly changed out of his uniform, wanting to get out of there before the conversation took a turn for the worse. But as he stepped out of the locker room, there was Andy, waiting by the exit, holding a paper bag from her father’s bakery.

She bounced on her toes, waving when she spotted him. "Yuki! Great game! You totally spiked those meteors!"

He gave a short nod, unsure of what to say. "Thanks."

She thrust the bag into his hands. "Here! It's just some bread and snacks from the bakery. My dad insisted."

Yuki glanced down at the bag. "You didn’t have to—"

"I know, but I wanted to. You’re always so serious," she said, her eyes twinkling. "You need something to lighten up a bit, and trust me, my dad’s pastries are happiness in edible form."

He took the bag, his grip tightening awkwardly around it. "Thank you."

For a moment, they stood there in silence. Andy was still bouncing a little, her natural energy hard to contain, while Yuki remained as stoic as ever. But then, she blurted out something that caught him off guard.

"You know, you don't have to be so serious all the time."

He blinked, unsure of how to respond. "What do you mean?"

Andy shrugged, her smile softening. "I mean, I get it. You’re one of the best volleyball players in the world, and people expect you to be perfect all the time. But... it’s okay to have fun, too, you know?"

Yuki's face remained impassive, but something in her words hit him. He had spent so many years being the "cold and focused" Yuki Ishikawa that he barely remembered what it felt like to just enjoy life. To let loose. To sing off-key in the living room like no one was watching, like Andy.

Before he could say anything, she reached into her bag and pulled out a small, brightly colored keychain. It was a tiny volleyball with a cartoon Yuki drawn on it—complete with a little scowl on its face.

She handed it to him. "Here. For good luck."

He stared at the keychain for a moment, then looked back at her. "You made this?"

She grinned sheepishly. "Yeah. It’s a hobby of mine. You know, making silly things like that."

Yuki took the keychain, his fingers brushing the smooth plastic. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," she said, her voice playful. "But if it brings you luck and you win the championship, I expect credit in your victory speech."

Yuki almost laughed at the absurdity of that thought. "I’ll... keep that in mind."

As he turned to leave, Andy called after him. "Hey, Yuki?"

He glanced back.

"Next time you feel like the weight of the world’s on your shoulders, just remember—" she raised her fist in the air dramatically, mimicking her earlier imaginary concert, "—you’ve got a jolly fan who believes you can spike those meteors right back into space."

For the first time in what felt like forever, Yuki smiled. Not a smirk, not a polite half-grin, but a genuine smile.

"Thanks, Andy," he said softly before walking away, his heart a little lighter, the ridiculous keychain tucked safely in his pocket.

Back at the hotel, Yuki sat on his bed, staring at the keychain on the nightstand. It was ridiculous. A little bobble of his scowling face attached to a volleyball. And yet, as he lay back and closed his eyes, he found himself thinking about Andy’s words, her carefree attitude, her complete lack of concern for how the world saw her.

Maybe she was right. Maybe it was okay to let the world in once in a while.

As he drifted off to sleep, for the first time in a long time, Yuki felt a strange sense of peace. And the next morning, as he prepared for practice, he clipped the keychain to his bag—a small reminder that not everything in life had to be serious.

And somewhere, deep down, he knew that from that day on, things might just be a little different.

[starleska]

Youth Is Wasted on the Young - Mad Mod x Reader

Following the events of Revolution, Mad Mod finds himself stranded alone in the centre of Jump City with no way to escape. It isn't until he runs into You - a clever fan who knows just how to get him out unseen - that Mad Mod's life takes an unexpected turn... rating: mature. tags: age gap, mutual pining, internalised ageism, holograms, flirting, threats, romance, fear, bargaining, stalking, yandere, surveillance, obsessive behaviour, technology, fluff, copious Britishisms, and teasing.  this fic is inspired by this wonderful art by @blackthewolf17​ 😉 i hope you all enjoy!!

Mad Mod's surveillance system is a marvel of engineering.

Years of designing and equipping his robots with nearly-undetectable surveillance equipment gives Mad Mod not just a bird's eye view of Jump City, but a civilian's view as well. His cameras pepper every building ledge, every street corner, and every statue. There isn’t a corner of the city that he can’t see... ...and the best part is that no one has a clue. Mad Mod slumps back in his recliner, struggling to keep his eyes open. Here in his 'control centre', Mad Mod is surrounded by a litany of screens, with a single, enormous screen dominating the room. Upon each scream a variety of people zooms past: an older woman crossing the street; a young gentleman tapping away at a laptop. A conveyor belt of familiar and unfamiliar faces blink in and out of existence as Mad Mod cycles through, looking for something, anything that might be different. These are not people Mad Mod knows by name: just your run-of-the-mill citizens going about their days with zero idea they're being watched. Bloody ingrates, Mad Mod thinks. Not a lick of manners in the lot of 'em. Lazily, Mad Mod flicks between channels on his remote with a click, click, click. With each push of a button, one of the screens flips to a different channel. Nothing seizes his attention. Since his failed attempt to erase the American Revolution from history and take his place as the rightful king of Jump City, Mad Mod has laid low, taking in the workings of the populace and trying to formulate a new, grand-scale plan. Click. Click. Twinge. Mad Mod hisses and shifts uncomfortably. Despite the youth he'd managed to steal for the day, his lower back aches with all the ferocity of his older spine. Mad Mod could add as many years as he liked, but his body knows that these young luxuries are borrowed. Click. Click. Cli- Mad Mod bolts upright in his chair. It's you. Quick as a flash, Mad Mod slams the pause button on his remote and then presses a couple more. You flare up onto the large screen—a view through a window and from the waist up. There’s nothing outwardly remarkable about you. It’s late, and you’re reaching to close the curtains of your apartment. You’re dressed comfortably, your hair is a little tousled, and you’re clutching a cup of coffee in your hand. Mad Mod leans as far forward as he can without toppling out of his chair. His eyes scan you hungrily, drinking in every detail of your form. He bites his lip, feeling his heart thrumming horribly in his chest. A scalding flush works its way up his neck to settle in his cheeks. “You oughta close your curtains earlier, love,” Mad Mod whispers. Mad Mod stands on shaky legs and approaches the screen. He stops mere inches away and looks up at your frozen image as if transfixed. Up close, he can make out the finer details of your face: a little half-smile makes your mouth crooked, and your eyes bear the strain of a tiring day. For a moment, Mad Mod reaches out a palm to touch the screen…but then draws it back as if he’s been burned. Get it together, old man. What are you doing? One chance encounter and you’re actin’ like a lovesick schoolboy. Mad Mod groans, running his hand over his face and back through his hair. He looks up at you, a vice squeezing around his heart, and then looks down at his own hands. They’re nice hands—long and delicate and well-manicured— but they’re fake, fake, fake . He’s a walking mirage: a sham of a man, wearing skin with elasticity that doesn’t belong to him. Everything from the hair on his head to his functional knees are from a bygone era. What would an angel like you want with a fraud like me? Every detail of your one and only real encounter is cemented into Mad Mod’s head, because he replays it every night before he goes to sleep: It was just after his humiliating defeat at the hands of those bratty Teen Titans. His empire was gone, his kingdom had collapsed, and even his precious ruby cane was broken, robbing him of his stolen youth. Mad Mod had run as fast his aged legs would carry him. Without the use of his cane Mad Mod was unable to truly alter his body, but he still kept some emergency tech on him for situations like this. He yanked a small device in the shape and colours of a British military roundel out of his pocket and pressed its central button. In seconds Mad Mod was enveloped by a hologram—the colour rushed back to his cheeks and hair, and his clothes morphed from stodgy cardigan to trim Union Jack suit. Yet the illusion wasn’t perfect: as he ran, Mad Mod’s real self glitched in and out through the hologram, showing flashes of his aged skin and balding scalp. It was nothing more than a parlour trick—a shimmering façade at least forty years out of date. But in this moment of desperation, Mad Mod could not bear to be himself. He needed to hold onto the dream just a little bit longer. Mad Mod twisted around a sharp corner. He slipped between the decaying remnants of his city-wide pop art illusion into an abandoned building, and he slammed the door shut. He dropped to the floor with his back against the door and sat there, fists clenched and trembling with rage. “Those blasted Teen Titans!” he growled. “When I get my hands on ‘em, I’m gonna…I’m gonna…” “Hello?” Mad Mod froze. The voice had come from the back of the room. Unsteadily, Mad Mod clambered to his feet and felt in his pockets for his Sheffield army knife. Whilst everyone had been under his control mere moments ago, the effects of his brainwashing would have worn off by now, making his former kingdom enemy territory. All the tech in the world wouldn’t stop an angry, unconsenting victim of hypnosis, as Mad Mod knew from experience. But the old man was ready to go down swinging. “Plannin’ a sneak attack, are we?” Mad Mod called, unfurling his knife. “Get out here and show yourself, you crafty sod!” There was a beat of silence…and then you stepped into the dim light. You held your hands aloft in a gesture of surrender. “Oh my God,” you said, breathless. “You’re Mad Mod!” Mad Mod adjusted his glasses to make sure he was seeing things correctly. He had been prepared for someone large and threatening—perhaps even one of those dastardly do-gooders that infested this good-for-nothing city. Instead, he saw a wide-eyed and unassuming adult, with soot dusting your cheeks and clothes. Your hair was tangled and your eyes looked sleepless. He felt a little pang of jealousy for the youth evident in your face. Mad Mod drew his knife and pointed it at you, blade-first. “Take one more step and I’ll ‘ave your guts for garters,” he spat. “Wait! I’m not going to hurt you.” You stepped a little closer to him, and Mad Mod could make out signs of wear and tear on your jumper. Doubtless you’d been caught in some kind of skirmish with his Buckingham Palace guards. Smugness overtook his desire to fight, and Mad Mod laughed in your face. “You? Hurt me? Ha!” he scoffed. “I could beat you with one arm tied behind my back.” “I’m sure you could,” you agreed. “I know what you’re capable of, Mad Mod. So there’s no point in you threatening me with a knife. You could do much worse.” Your words made Mad Mod pause. As a hypnotist, he always felt that he was a good judge of character, and he wanted to register your words as mockery. But when he looked into your eyes, Mad Mod saw no signs of deception: your praise was completely sincere. He stared at you, and weighed up his options. The Teen Titans were on his tail, he no longer had his cane, and the collapsing of his city-wide illusion meant there was nowhere else to go. He needed to retire to his mansion as quickly as possible, and activate all the security measures he could muster. Perhaps it would be best to make an ally. “Sorry about that, love,” said Mad Mod, folding his knife and tucking it back in his pocket. “That weren’t becoming of a gentleman. My day’s gone a bit to pot.” “Yeah,” you agreed. “Sorry about that. I saw the whole thing.” Mad Mod blinked. “Hold on a tick. You mean…you weren’t hypnotised?” You giggled nervously and shook your head. Mad Mod noticed you were bouncing on the balls of your feet. “I’ve known you were going to take over the city for weeks,” you said excitedly. “I wanted to make sure I had a front row seat…but when I caught wind of how big an operation your takeover was going to be, I realised I needed to protect myself. This building sits in a blind spot between all of your hypno-screens. Right here, I was able to watch everything without falling under your control.” Mad Mod gaped at you. A blind spot between his hypno-screens…it was unthinkable. How had you, a dishevelled nobody, managed to outsmart him? The mortification of the day settled into Mad Mod’s stomach, and he felt sick. Months of planning down the drain all because of a bunch of teenagers…and whoever the hell you were. “Well, well, well…you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you, my duckie?” Mad Mod’s mouth twisted into a snarl. He advanced on you, pushing you further into the darkness. You cried out and tripped over something, stumbling backwards, but Mad Mod didn’t stop until your back collided with the far wall. He planted his arms on either side of your head, boxing you in. Your pupils blew wide and dark, and the sight of it gave Mad Mod an adrenaline rush like that of a young man. “Think you’re quite the clever-clogs, don’t you?” Mad Mod hissed. “But that won’t last. You’re causin’ me an awful lot of trouble, you know? A glitch in my system is nothin’ to sniff at…much less when ferreted out by a little muppet like you. What were you hopin’ for, eh? Blackmail? Sabotage? You could well ‘ave been the bastard that tipped off those wretched Teen Titans. Workin’ with them to take ol’ Moddy down, were you?” “No, no, no!” You gasped. “I swear, I would never do anything to get in the way of your plans. All I wanted was to see it all happen and remember it. You have to believe me!” “Tellin’ porkies won’t save you, love,” Mad Mod breathed. “It won’t even get you a trial. When I’m done with you, you’ll be lucky if you remember your own name. Why…” Mad Mod bared his crooked teeth. “...I oughta kill you." The two of you stood like that for some time: one of you seething with barely-contained rage, and the other struggling to breathe from the proximity. Mad Mod clenched and unclenched his fists, wanting, needing to do something, but found himself stuck. “Say,” said Mad Mod slowly. “...How come you aren’t afraid?” “What?” you said. “Oh, I am. Very afraid right now.” “Yeah, o’course, but. Not properly.” Mad Mod took a few steps back. He narrowed his eyes at you, before letting a little squarish device on a chain fall out of his sleeve. A thin white light shot from the device and scanned you, before zipping back into the square. Mad Mod read the display which the display up before him aloud: “Increased heart rate. Heightened body temperature. All signs of any frightened little bugger, and yet…” You weren’t afraid of him. So what the devil was wrong with— Mad Mod’s eyes widened with realisation. You were attracted to him. For a moment, Mad Mod was confused. You were young, and quite easy on the eyes—a thought he’d squashed into the back of his brain before it could cause any damage. What you would want with a man of his age baffled him…until he glanced at his hands and saw smooth, youthful skin. In his confusion, he’d forgotten about the hologram— as well as the effect his younger visage had on others. As long as he didn’t move too quickly, the illusion would hold: to this interloper, he would still look like his young self. That fact gave him a boost of confidence: old man Mad Mod couldn’t get what he needed from this strange, clever person, but the Mad Mod he was inside—the twenty-odd, mischievous, charming Mad Mod—could put his image to good use. Giving his best devil-may-care smile, Mad Mod re-approached his mark with a little sway in his hips. The absence of his cane meant he couldn’t swing with quite the flair he preferred, but he still knew how to off-set someone’s expectations. “Why, I’m flattered, dearie,” said Mad Mod with a toothy grin. “I didn’t realise you fancied me.” You’d shrunk back against the wall, and your hands covered your face. You peeked out from between your fingers, eyes wide in mortification. The sight filled Mad Mod with a perverse kind of glee. He loved nothing more than playing with his victims, and he was going to make you, brainy little toerag that you were, squirm. “What is it about me, then? Is it the suit? The hair? It can’t possibly be the teeth.” Mad Mod laughed and leaned in, stooping to try and force eye contact. “Or perhaps it’s the talent. Maybe you’d like to be hypnotised, eh? Have all that pesky control taken away from you? I know a couple minutes with my hypno-screens would have you ever so relaxed.” You squeaked, and Mad Mod’s grin stretched even wider. What an adorable sound—he was rather starting to enjoy the attention. Slowly, taking care not to disrupt his hologram, Mad Mod took hold of your hands and lowered them away from your face. Heat was radiating from your palms, but your eyes—so wide and innocent—gazed up at him with unspoken expectation. “Y-you’re a very handsome man, sir,” you stammered. “But I started following your schemes because of your work. The scale of your inventions is amazing. You’re…you’re quite brilliant.” “Cheeky,” Mad Mod admonished, feeling a pleasurable heat rising in his cheeks. “You’re not too bad yourself, love. Still, I ought not to encourage you…” Mad Mod leaned in closer, and relished in how you tried to make yourself as small as possible. “You could be one of them groupie sorts,” he said. “Utterly obsessed with me. Posters on your bedroom walls, little messages scrawled with love hearts. Why, you modern fans usually have back-to-back images of your sweethearts stored on your phones. But you’re not like that, are you, pet?” You stared at Mad Mod like he’d just read aloud the pages of your diary. He chuckled, and bent down to speak into your ear: “All I need is a clear way out of view of the Teen Titans,” said Mad Mod. “Get me outta Jump City and to the water’s edge, and I’ll give the teasin’ a rest.” Mad Mod felt the shudder that went through your body: he was close enough for his lips to ghost your earlobe. “Deal,” you whispered. And the deal was honoured. It took the two of you less than fifteen minutes to leave the building and clear the closely-nestled buildings of central Jump City on foot. You’d brought a crudely-drawn paper map, which you used to sneak between alleys and shadowed doorways, always out of sight of CCTV. Mad Mod managed to keep up with you, still being light on his feet. There were a few close moments when you saw a purple shadow flit overheard, and when you heard the telltale sound of a Sonic Cannon, but in no time at all the two of you stood on the beach, overlooking the Mad Mansion fortress sticking up absurdly out of the sea. Mad Mod cleared a space in the sand with his foot. A small circle unearthed itself, and up rose a custom-built elevator tube, connected to an underwater transportation system which would lead Mad Mod right back to his home. The Teen Titans would know where he was, but they wouldn’t be able to get past his security system. “Thanks for all your help, dearie,” said Mad Mod, tipping an imaginary hat to you. “That’s quite enough excitement for one day. It pains me to say it, but I may not have escaped unscathed if it weren’t for your know-how.” A lovely smile lit up your face. “Thank you, sir,” you said, glee evident in your voice. “The pleasure is all mine.” Mad Mod pressed a button to open the door on his elevator, and made to step in—but he hesitated. He looked back at you, and took in the wistful delight on your face. It really was thanks to you that he was able to get here in one piece…and he’d had quite a lot of fun doing it. In a strange way, you’d grown on him…and Mad Mod was nothing if not a gentleman. Perhaps you deserve a little reward. In a few short steps, Mad Mod crossed the sand and stood close to you. When you tried to take a step back, he reached out and steadied you by the elbow. “Flattery will get you everywhere, duckie,” Mad Mod whispered…and he leaned in to kiss your cheek. You yelped and stumbled backwards, losing your balance in the sand. Mad Mod tried to catch you, but you reached out and grabbed first—and your hand yanked out something from his pocket. You collapsed into the sand and brought Mad Mod tumbling down with you, leaving the two of you in a tangled mess of limbs. Something crunched. “Oof,” said Mad Mod, who’d fallen with a soft whump onto his hip. “You’re the ungainly sort, my dear. Good thing about the soft landing, eh?” You sat up, shook the sand from your hair—and then your mouth dropped open. “...What?” Mad Mod blinked. You kept staring. “Are you ‘avin’ some sort of episode, love?” asked Mad Mod, frustrated. He reached out to try and touch your shoulder— —and then he saw his hands. His old, wrinkled hands. “Gah!” Mad Mod sprung to his feet and looked down at his body. His fancy suit was gone, replaced by the dreary old cardigan and dark, sensible trousers. He reached up to touch his hair, and felt the sickening familiarity of his bald spot and its accompanying liver-spotted skin. Desperately, Mad Mod felt in his pocket for his hologramatic remote—and came up with nothing. It was then that he spotted the plasticky remnants of the remote pressed into the sand. The impact of the two of you falling had broken the remote, and taken his youthful illusion with it. Mad Mod looked back at you. You were still staring, open-mouthed. A cold rush of shame and anguish doused Mad Mod’s insides. He needed to get out. As fast as he could run through the sand, Mad Mod made a beeline for his elevator. You struggled to your feet and tried to chase after him, but the clear door slammed shut before you could get in. “Wait, don’t go!” You yelled through the glass. Mad Mod smiled at you sadly. “I’m sorry for the deception, my duckie,” he said. “You take care, now.” He pressed a button…and the elevator fell through the sand. That was two months ago. The night after his failed revolution, Mad Mod couldn’t sleep: he tossed and turned in bed, half-formed images of his stunted kingdom and you mingling together into malformed nightmares. He woke up drenched in sweat, and didn’t even have the comfort of his fake self to hang onto: it was too dangerous to find someone younger and drain their youth with the Teen Titans still looking for him. For the three days it took for Mad Mod to rebuild his hologramatic projector, he avoided all reflective surfaces and showered in the dark. There was one thing that he studied meticulously, however. In your awkward embrace in the sand, Mad Mod had accidentally snagged the paper map you’d drawn to help him out of the city. Although rudimentary, the map showed Mad Mod the locations of all the security cameras in Jump City, as well as all of their blind spots. Brilliant, really. This allowed him to hack into the existing cameras and set up his own, setting his watchful eyes over every possible angle in the entire city. Mad Mod told himself this was so he could reinstate himself as rightful king… …but instead, he found your apartment within 12 hours. He knew it was wrong. But Mad Mod had gotten good at talking himself out of not doing bad things, and he rationalised his watching you coming and going from your home as him protecting you. Because you’d helped him to escape, you’d aided and abetted a known criminal, and could be harangued by those damned Teen Titans at any moment. Of course, that never happened. Days turned into weeks, and Mad Mod found himself becoming familiar with your normal routine. He watched you open your curtains every morning and stretch like a cat, taking in those precious early rays of sunlight. He watched you depart for work, and followed your progress with alternating cameras until he was sure you’d reached your workplace. He watched you select and pay for your groceries, and struggle with your bags while trying to open your front door. He watched you close your curtains at night, blocking his view. He watched you on the night you forgot to close your curtains, too. Now, back in the present, Mad Mod moans in frustration and throws himself back into his chair, covering his face. What is wrong with him! All this time, and he’s scarcely worked on anything to do with his evil plans. You’ve done something to his head, something far more powerful and insidious than his hypno-screens could accomplish. You’ve made him care about you. Mad Mod clicks a couple more buttons on his remote control. All of the other feeds vanish, only to be replaced with more images of you: some still frames, and others loops of video, all from different angles and locations and dates. It’s a cornucopia of you, plucked from a harvest of thousands of hours of video. Eventually, his eyes drift back to the newest image of you, frozen whilst closing your curtains. The little smile on your face makes Mad Mod smile too. It’s an infectious sort of cheer that you have. Mad Mod wishes he could have spent more time appreciating that warmth. For a moment, Mad Mod imagines being there with you. Coming up behind you and slipping his arms around your waist. Laughing into the soft skin of your neck and nibbling playfully on your earlobe. Slipping into your bed and pulling you in after, letting your arms and legs tangle up in one another again just like they did at the beach. He imagines getting lost in your beautiful eyes, and drifting off into a worriless sleep with you curled up against him. Twinge. Mad Mod’s spine protests at the unnatural angle of his chair, and jolts him out of his fantasy. Of course, these thoughts were inappropriate. His behaviour was too. But Mad Mod couldn’t bring himself to delete his collection. He looks up at the newest image of you again, and a painful, boyish blush spreads across his cheeks. What they don’t know won’t hurt them. Mad Mod averts his eyes, and tucks his remote control up into his chest. “Goodnight, my duckie,” says Mad Mod quietly. He switches off the video feeds and sits, alone, in the darkness. “Sweet dreams.”