#i almost wish things could go back to the way they were. i was miserable yea but i was also too lost in my own drunkenness to really

[sillypilled-friendcel]

...

[verstappensrealwife]

Penny for Your Thoughts - SugarDaddy!Lewis Hamilton x Reader

[lewis hamilton masterlist  / f1 masterlist]

ʚɞ in which... the relationship between lewis and his sugar baby develops into something more. ʚɞ fluff, smut, angst (barely)  ⋆⭒˚.⋆ 5600 words ʚɞ warnings: use of Y/N, smut, Fem Receiving!Oral, lewis cumming in his pants, some swearing, mentions of sex in conversation, kissing, swearing, unspecified age-gap.

-୨♡୧-

-୨♡୧-

When lewis had met you he didn’t expect this… You were young and beautiful, and while he was equally beautiful, he was a little older.

Not that the age difference mattered to you. You weren’t with him for his good looks—though those certainly didn’t hurt. No, what drew you to him was the promise of his wealth, the endless opportunities for luxury that came with his lifestyle. 

And as it turned out, he didn’t mind one bit. Lewis didn’t expect love or devotion, nor did he demand intimacy—at least, not all the time. What he truly enjoyed was spoiling you, a pastime he indulged with an almost reckless abandon. With more money than he could ever hope to spend on himself, Lewis found it gratifying to watch you revel in the fruits of his fortune.

So you came to an agreement, you get his credit card, he gets to show you off like a trophy at different events and around the paddock. You were his trophy, and he was your benefactor.

-୨♡୧-

It was one of those nights where everything seemed to go wrong. You had arrived at the bar with your friends, but somehow, they had disappeared into the crowd, leaving you stranded alone at the bar, nursing your drink and wondering if you should just call it a night. The hum of conversations and clinking glasses faded into the background as you sighed, glancing at the empty seats around you, wishing for some kind of distraction.

Then, unexpectedly, a warm presence slid into the seat next to you. Lewis. He didn’t make any grand gestures, no flashy introductions—he simply settled in beside you, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, despite the many other open chairs. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, but when the bartender came by to take your order, he spoke up.

"I’ll take care of your next drink," he said, his voice smooth and casual, as if he already knew you.

You gave him a questioning look, but didn’t protest. A drink, a little distraction, that’s all you needed.

After a moment of silence, you let out a sigh, the weight of the evening still pressing on you. “Penny for your thoughts?” Lewis asked, his eyes studying you with a quiet curiosity.

“You’re gonna need a lot more than a penny,” you quipped, a forced smile tugging at your lips.

“How about 200…?” he replied, without missing a beat, as he casually pulled open his wallet.

“200 pennies?” You raised an eyebrow, unsure if he was playing along or actually serious.

“Euros,” he said, a confident smile curling at the corners of his lips. He slid ten crisp 20-euro bills across the bar with a slow, deliberate movement.

Your jaw dropped. The sheer audacity of it caught you off guard. “Not enough?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly, almost genuinely confused. “I can go get more from the cash machine if you need it.”

You stared at him, eyes narrowing. “Are you joking?”

He shook his head, no trace of sarcasm in his voice. “Not at all,” he said simply, pushing the money even closer to you.

A mix of disbelief and curiosity bubbled up inside you, but, against your better judgment, you reached out and took the money. With that, you found yourself explaining the miserable state of your night—the mix of bad decisions, lost friends, and the way everything seemed to be falling apart.

Somewhere between your rant and the last sip of your drink, the conversation shifted. The night took on a different tone, one of unexpected comfort and growing connection. By the time you found yourself back at his hotel room, the details of the evening felt like a blur. What you did remember, though, was the feel of his touch, the luxury that oozed from every inch of him, and the crisp, freshly handed-over credit card tucked into your pocket.

-୨♡୧-

And now, there you stood in Bahrain, playing the loving-girlfriend role (for the first time at a race) as you watched him drive around the track over and over again. You were wearing expensive shoes, a pricy dress, and your hair done up so perfectly you didn’t want to touch it.

After the race had finished and Lewis placed 7th,  You watched him climb out of the car, his posture tight, his expression far from pleased. He was used to winning championships, not fighting to stay in the points.

“Well done, Lew.” You had smiled when he came though the garage. He hummed a tiny thank you, clearly upset, and walked right by you. You looked down awkwardly, even the mechanics looked at you a little concerned. 

But then, Lewis paused, his frustration momentarily giving way to something else. He turned and reached for your hand, his fingers wrapping around yours with a kind of silent urgency. Wordlessly, he pulled you along with him, heading toward his motorhome.

You couldn’t help but smile, even in the midst of his disappointment.

"I need to go talk to the media," he said, his voice flat. You nodded, understanding the drill. "You can, uh... stay here if you want."

"Of course," you murmured. You didn’t mind

"You did great today," you added quietly, watching him closely. His eyes flicked to you, and for a fleeting moment, you saw something in them—a spark of emotion. It wasn’t just the casual gratitude he usually gave you. This was different, almost vulnerable, like he was searching for comfort, even if he wouldn’t ask for it outright.

He gave you a small smile, nodding in appreciation, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. You could tell the result still weighed on him. With a final, quiet nod, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

-୨♡୧-

It wasn’t long before Lewis returned, his shoulders more relaxed, though the lines of frustration still lingered on his face.

"Penny for your thoughts?" you asked with a teasing smile, hoping to break the silence.

He huffed a tiny laugh, a sound that was both resigned and weary. "Just not happy with P7," he admitted with a shrug. You nodded, sensing there was no need to push him further. "Can we go back to the hotel now?" he asked, the exhaustion evident in his tone.

You nodded immediately, stepping in line behind him as you left the paddock together, the bustling sounds of the paddock fading behind you.

-୨♡୧-

The soft click of the door closing behind him marked the end of the race day. Lewis leaned against the wall, watching you move effortlessly through the room, shedding the remnants of the event like a second skin. First, your makeup came off, followed by the careful undoing of your hair. Then, without a second thought, you peeled off the dress, the expensive fabric slipping down your body and pooling onto the floor, revealing a little more of you with each passing second.

And yes, he watched—he couldn’t help himself. You were still his girlfriend, after all, even if this wasn’t exactly the most conventional of relationships. He admired your figure, the way your skin caught the light in the room, the way you moved with effortless grace.

“Perv,” you teased with a laugh, throwing the dress carelessly over the back of the armchair before slipping into an oversized shirt—one that could’ve been his, though you weren’t sure. You glanced over at him, your playful smile lighting up the room.

He just smirked, unfazed by what you said. Taking a few steps closer to you, the tension palpable. His hands move to hold your bare waist, rubbing his hands up and down your sides, looking down at your body, each curve, each freckle or mark. He looks back up to you, your lips, staring. Before he leans forward, kissing you, its needy and passionate. 

Clearly the pent up frustrations with the car was getting to his head.

His hands roaming over your body, before he walks you backwards until your knees hit the back of the bed. He falls on top of you. Looking at you, really looking. Mumbling to himself about how beautiful you are. Then he’s on you again, his lips ravaging at your neck, nipping and sucking gently at the sensitive spot between your neck and collarbone.

Soft whines fall from your lips, tugging at his tshirt, urging him to undress. With one swift motion, he pulls the shirt over his head, throwing it somewhere behind him. He kisses down your body, pulling you gently to the edge of the bed before dropping to his knees. His fingers linger on your underwear, fingertips grazing the skin of your hips, looking up at you for a nod. 

“Please,” You pant. Thats all he needed. Wrapping his fingers around the waistband and pulling them off. He wastes no time, his head diving between your thighs. Your loud, desperate moans echoing throughout the room. His fingers glide up the back of your thighs till they cant go further, squeezing at the flesh.

You are a wreck. Writhing, moaning, shaking.

You cry out in pleasure, heels digging into the toned muscle of his back as he plunges two fingers into you. You’re trying desperately to move your hips to ride his fingers. “Lewis,” You whimper, wound up so tight you could burst. “Lewis- I- fuck I’m gonna-”

The words are lost on you as you scream, your body spasms, everything tingles as your cunt tightens around his fingers. Hips bucking upwards as pleasure floods through you.

He pulls his fingers out, and mouth away. Your juices spread across his mouth and chin. He gives you a drunken-looing grin as he stands up. You sit up onto your elbows, then your eyes shoot down to his crotch, the once light grey joggers now dark and wet around his crotch. He looks down, noticing your stare. “I- that doesn’t usually happen- you were just being so hot and I couldn’t really help it.” He says sheepishly.

“It’s hot,” You smirk with a small shrug.

After everything settled, the intensity of the moment slowly faded, leaving a soft, warm silence between you both. Lewis carefully helped you clean up (after washing his face), his hands gentle as he brushed some stray hair from your face, his eyes full of care and affection. 

You gave him a funny look as he stared intently at you.

“What? Can’t I admire my girlfriend?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You can, if this ever becomes a normal relationship.”

His smirk faltered for a second, replaced by something more serious. He watched as you crawled onto the bed, pulling the thick covers up to your chin, curling into the softness of the sheets. “Would you want that?” he asked quietly, the question lingering in the air between you. “Like, an actual relationship… not just—whatever this is?”

You shrugged, your eyes flicking to him before settling on the ceiling, lost in thought. “Maybe one day…” Your words hung in the air, both hopeful and uncertain, the weight of what you said not lost on either of you.

Lewis nodded slowly, absorbing the thought. There was no rush, no need for labels. But the way he looked at you—his gaze softening, his lips curling into a gentle smile—made it clear that, in some way, this was becoming something more. He didn’t say anything more, but the unspoken agreement between the two of you was clear: one day, maybe, things would change. For now, he was content to let the night settle in around you both, taking each moment as it came.

-୨♡୧-

You hadn’t gone to the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix—things had gotten too hectic, and you needed some time to yourself. But you were at the Australian Grand Prix, and it was Friday. The buzz of the paddock surrounded you as Lewis was out on track, doing his practice laps, while you sat in the garage. The hum of the engines and the chatter of the crew filled the air as you made small talk with one of the mechanics, discussing anything and everything to pass the time. The world of F1 still felt like a foreign one to you, but you were learning.

After a while, Lewis returned to the garage, stepping out of the car with the usual furrow in his brow. He immediately started speaking to the mechanics about the car, explaining in technical terms the issues he could feel. It was all a blur of words you couldn’t quite grasp, but you could tell by his tone that he was frustrated.

-୨♡୧-

You hadn’t gone to the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix—things had gotten too hectic, and you needed some time to yourself. But you were at the Australian Grand Prix, and it was Friday. The buzz of the paddock surrounded you as Lewis was out on track, doing his practice laps, while you sat in the garage. The hum of the engines and the chatter of the crew filled the air as you made small talk with one of the mechanics, discussing anything and everything to pass the time. The world of F1 still felt like a foreign one to you, but you were learning.

After a while, Lewis returned to the garage, stepping out of the car with the usual furrow in his brow. He immediately started speaking to the mechanics about the car, explaining in technical terms the issues he could feel. It was all a blur of words you couldn’t quite grasp, but you could tell by his tone that he was frustrated.

-୨♡୧-

Saturday came, and it wasn’t the best of results. Lewis had qualified 11th—a decent starting position, but not where he usually found himself. His frustration was palpable, but it was nothing a good evening couldn’t fix. After the race, he took you out to a nice dinner, treating you to some of the finest food in the city. He even bought you a new perfume—a gesture that was more thoughtful than extravagant. The evening ended with you both lying side by side in bed, staring at each other, the soft hum of the city outside the windows creating a peaceful atmosphere.

“Remember like, a month ago…” Lewis started, his voice breaking the comfortable silence. You nodded, prompting him to go on.

“When we were talking about being, like… a proper couple—would you wanna maybe try that?” he asked, his voice cautious, like he wasn’t sure how you’d respond.

You lay there, processing the question. He sounded so nervous, and for a moment, it made you wonder why. Why was he asking? Why now? The uncertainty lingered in the air between you, but after a moment of thought, you gave a small, genuine smile.

“Yeah,” you said softly, making his eyebrows raise in surprise. “Sure—why not?”

-୨♡୧-

Oh, how naive you were.

Less than 24 hours later, you could’ve strangled him.

The race had been a disaster—Lewis had DNF’d, and it was clear he was livid. But it wasn’t the result that was bothering him—it was the way the whole weekend had unraveled, and somehow, he made it your problem.

You didn’t see him at all until after the media duties, and even then, it was like he was avoiding you. He walked past you in the paddock without so much as a glance. You stayed in his driver’s room, trying to give him space, but your patience was wearing thin. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he entered, his body tense, his face still etched with frustration.

He didn’t even look at you.

“Are you oka-” you started, your voice soft, hesitant.

“Just shut up,” he snapped, cutting you off, his tone sharper than you’d ever heard. His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You froze, your mouth falling shut in shock. “All the fucking time, just—‘Lewis, Lewis, Lewis,’” he mocked, mimicking your voice with an exaggerated sigh, his frustration boiling over.

You sat there, stunned, trying to process what was happening. This wasn’t the Lewis you knew—this wasn’t how he usually acted, especially not toward you. The words stung, leaving you speechless, unsure of how to react.

Before you could even respond, he turned to say something else, but you couldn’t take it anymore. You stood up, moving quickly toward the door, your heart pounding in your chest. Without saying a word, you left the room, not wanting to be in the same space as him anymore.

“Wait—no—Y/N—fuck,” Lewis called after you, his voice laced with regret, but it was too late. You were already storming out, heading straight for the nearest taxi, leaving the driver’s room—and Lewis—behind as you made your way to the hotel, the sting of his words lingering in the air between you.

It was almost 10 PM when he finally walked through the door, his presence quiet but heavy. You had been in bed for a while, reading your book as though everything was fine, pretending you didn’t care that he had just hurt you. Of course, you cared—you always cared—but right now, you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing how deeply it stung.

He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching you, waiting for some kind of acknowledgment. He called your name softly at first, then again, a little more insistently, when he realized you weren’t responding. When it became clear you were intentionally ignoring him, he sighed, his voice filled with regret.

“I— Princess, I really am sorry.”

Still, you said nothing, keeping your focus on the page, even though you could hear the sincerity in his tone, and the words on the page were melting together, you ignored him. With another heavy sigh, he reached for one of the pillows, dragging it off the bed before retreating to the small sofa across the room. He grabbed the thinnest blanket he could find, folding it around himself as best he could.

“Goodnight,” he said, his voice soft, sad. You didn’t respond, not wanting to break your silence just yet. You turned off your light, rolling over to face the wall, your thoughts swirling.

Sleep came quickly for you, but not for him. The couch was far too small, too uncomfortable for someone his size. You could hear his restless shifting—the soft groans and quiet huffs that filled the room as he tried, unsuccessfully, to find a comfortable position.

Eventually, you woke up to the sound of him fumbling with the couch. You blinked a few times, your mind still fuzzy from sleep, before calling out to him, your voice confused.

“Lewis?”

He froze instantly, embarrassed by the noise he had made. “Sorry,” he muttered, trying to adjust quietly, shifting his body awkwardly to find some semblance of comfort.

By this point, you had hoped he would have just climbed into bed with you. It was obvious he wasn’t getting any sleep on the couch, but he wasn’t making any move to join you. You let out an exasperated sigh, pushing yourself up on one elbow, your eyes adjusting to the dim light in the room. You yawned, looking at him with disbelief.

“Are you seriously still trying to sleep on that thing?”

“It’s fine,” he lied, adjusting the pillow again for what felt like the hundredth time. “Just go back to sleep.”

You rolled your eyes, clearly unimpressed by his stubbornness. “Lewis. Just get in the bed.”

He opened his mouth to protest but stopped himself. “But I—”

“Get in,” you repeated, cutting him off firmly, patting the empty spot next to you.

There was no more arguing after that. With a small grunt of defeat, he climbed into the bed beside you. “Sorry,” he muttered again, though the apology felt more genuine now.

You nodded, not needing to say more. “It’s okay… just shut up now,” you yawned, your eyes drifting shut as you sank back into the pillow.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The room was quiet, the tension still hanging between you, but it was starting to fade. You could feel the weight of the day slowly slipping away, your exhaustion starting to settle in.

And then, without warning, you found yourself crawling toward him, drawn to his warmth. You threw your arm over his chest, resting your head against him, your legs tangling with his under the covers. He tensed at first, clearly surprised by the sudden closeness, but within moments, his body relaxed, and his arm came around you, pulling you into him.

You could feel the steady beat of his heart against your ear, the warmth of his skin beneath your touch, and despite the tension of the night, everything felt right again. Silent, comfortable, and for the first time that evening, at peace.

-୨♡୧-

It had been a few months since the Australian Grand Prix, and now, here you were, trudging around the Silverstone track in the blistering British summer heat. Every step felt like a mountain as jet lag clung to you like a weight, and all you wanted was to collapse into bed for a solid, uninterrupted sleep. But instead, you were stuck walking the track with Lewis—who, despite his usual high energy, seemed to be in no rush.

The two of you had been taking things slowly in your growing relationship, maybe even too slowly for your liking. The pace was frustrating at times, especially when you wanted more but couldn’t push him faster than he was willing to go. You wanted to enjoy your time together, but you couldn’t help feeling like you were standing still while he took his time to figure things out.

But right now, you just wanted to get this walk over with. You glared at the track, imagining it as a long stretch of nothing but sleep.

“Okay, Grandpa, get a move on. I am exhausted,” you said, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice, but it came out sharper than intended.

Lewis shot you a sly smirk, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Well, I can certainly understand why,” he teased, his voice dropping to a playful, suggestive tone. “I did fuck you pretty well—”

Ok, maybe not taking the relationship entirely slowly.

“Okay!” you quickly interrupted, your face flushing with embarrassment. Not in public, please. “No need to be crude in front of the children,” you added, nodding toward Kimi, who was walking a few feet ahead with George and Carmen, all of them oblivious to your exchange.

Lewis burst into laughter, his playful side coming to the surface as he pushed you lightly in retaliation. You responded with the same energy, shoving him back and laughing along with him. The two of you exchanged grins, the tension of the last few months lightening for a moment.

You’d been together for months now, shared countless moments, laughed, argued, spent time together both in and out of bed. You’d done everything that a couple should do, or so you thought.

But there was one thing that hung in the air, unspoken, like a cloud that never seemed to lift: the three words. Those three simple words that could turn the connection between you two into something deeper, something permanent. And yet, despite everything, he still hadn’t said them.

You couldn’t help but wonder if he was waiting for something, or maybe he just wasn’t there yet. Maybe he didn’t feel the same way. You’d never pushed him, never asked for those words, but they were always in the back of your mind, like an unfinished sentence.

Sometimes, you'd see flashes of affection in the way he looked at you, in the little things he did, but there was always this strange emptiness when it came to those words.

But what did it all mean if he couldn’t say it?

-୨♡୧-

Qualifying day dawned, and it was clear that the team had made significant progress overnight. The car felt more alive, and Lewis was able to extract more from it with each lap. He pushed through the first two sessions with a mix of determination and calculated risk, knowing that every second counted. 

In Q1, the pace had been good, but there were still a few corners that didn’t feel quite right. It was enough to get him through, though, and as the weekend progressed, the confidence built. 

By Q2, Lewis was firing on all cylinders, and the team’s strategy seemed to be paying off. The car’s balance was improving, and with each lap, it was clear he was getting closer to the top.

But when it came time for Q3, the pressure was on. He pushed hard in the final sector, his focus unwavering as he navigated the tight corners, pushing the car to its limits. The lap had been enough to secure 2nd place. He wasn’t quite on pole, but he was in a great position, only a fraction of a second behind the pole sitter.

There was a sense of pride as he climbed out of the car, a slight smile tugging at his lips. He had fought hard for that position, and the team’s work was paying off. The atmosphere in the garage was electric, with engineers high-fiving and congratulating each other. Now, it was all about turning that qualifying pace into a solid race result. But for now, 2nd place felt pretty damn good.

He walked over to you, in the corner of the garage, beaming at you happily with his helmet tucked under his arm. “Not bad for a grandpa, huh?” he teased, his voice laced with playful smugness.

You rolled your eyes at him, fighting back a smile. 

“You’ve got to admit, I’ve still got it,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he leaned in slightly, clearly enjoying the moment. He was so proud of what he'd accomplished, and you couldn’t deny that you were proud of him too.

“Did you ever lose it?”

He flashed you a grin, clearly satisfied with your approval, before he leaned in to give you a quick kiss on the cheek. “God, I love… erm… when you come to races…” he says, clearly stopping himself from saying ‘I love you’. He clears his throat. “It’s not over yet, though. I’m gunning for that top spot tomorrow,” he said, the competitive edge in his voice returning.

You smiled, watching him walk away, the energy around him infectious.

-୨♡୧-

In the dimly lit hotel room, the soft glow of the television illuminated the quiet space. A film was playing, but neither of you were paying much attention to it. You lay there, side by side, your heads nestled into the pillows, the comfort of the bed surrounding you both. The hum of the movie blended with the sound of your voices, an easy conversation flowing between the two of you.

You were close, so close, you could feel the warmth of his body next to yours, his hand resting gently on the bed near yours. There had been an unspoken tension for a while now, something hanging between you both. You could feel it in the way he looked at you when you laughed, in the small touches, the way he’d hold you just a little longer than necessary when you hugged. It was as if the words were right there, on the tip of his tongue.

You were almost sure this was it. This was the moment.

The conversation had shifted, casual at first, but then he turned to you, his expression softening. The way he was looking at you now, it was different—more intense. You could feel your heart start to race, anticipation building.

"I was thinking," he started, his voice quieter than usual. You looked up at him, holding your breath, hoping he was about to say what you were both thinking.

He paused, and you could feel the weight of the silence stretching between you, and in that brief moment, everything felt like it was about to change.

“I—” he began again, his eyes locking onto yours with a gaze that sent a flutter through your chest.

You were ready. This is it, you thought. Finally.

But then, just as you were about to exhale in relief, he shifted in the bed, his expression changing as he sat up slightly, breaking the moment.

“Did you hear about the new engine updates for next race?” he asked, casually, as if he hadn’t just been on the verge of saying something that would change everything.

Your heart sank a little, the words you were waiting for slipping away, replaced by the familiar mention of the track, the car, the race. You blinked, trying to shake off the sudden disappointment, but it lingered in the air.

You nodded slowly, a soft smile playing on your lips, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. "Yeah, I did. I think we could be in for a good one next time."

He didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he did but chose not to acknowledge it, diving into the technical details with his usual enthusiasm. You listened, nodding in all the right places, but in the back of your mind, that moment—the moment—still lingered, unanswered.

You lay back down beside him, the distance between you not in inches, but in the words that had almost been spoken, and the ones that never came.

-୨♡୧-

“Good luck, Lew,” you whispered against his lips, your hand resting on his chest for a brief moment.

Without a word, his lips met yours, a slow, lingering kiss that seemed to stop time for a moment. The buzz of the crowd faded into the background as you melted into the kiss, his hand cradling your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin.

When he pulled away, his eyes locked onto yours, his voice barely a whisper, “I’ll make it count.” His words were full of focus and confidence, the kind that left no doubt he was determined to win this one. You smiled, your heart swelling in your chest, knowing he would give it everything.

“I’ll be here,” you replied softly, squeezing his hand before he turned and jogged toward his car.

The race began in a blur of roaring engines, speeding cars, and deafening excitement. Lewis was in the zone, navigating the twists and turns of the track with precision and power. You could see it in the way he drove—the focus, the confidence, the hunger for victory. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the screen, your heart in your throat with every corner.

Then, it happened. With one final push, he crossed the finish line, the roar of the crowd erupting around you. He had done it. He had won his home Grand Prix- again.

The victory was his. And the joy was contagious.

As he pulled into Parc Fermé, you rushed over to the barriers, your heart still racing from the intensity of the race. You were front and center, waiting for him to emerge from his car. When he did, he looked absolutely elated, his face glowing with the purest happiness. He waved to the crowd, then immediately made his way toward his team, hugging everyone in sight. Each embrace, a moment of triumph. You watched as he celebrated with them, his adrenaline clearly still running high.

And then, after what felt like an eternity, he spotted you.

With a wide grin, he sprinted toward you, his helmet still in his hand. The world seemed to pause as he reached you, his eyes never leaving yours. There was no hesitation. He threw his arms around you, pulling you in close, and without a second thought, he took off his helmet, tossing it aside. His lips found yours, this time even more urgent, more intense than before the race. His kiss was full of raw, unbridled emotion—adrenaline coursing through him, the exhilaration of the win, and the joy of having you there with him to share it.

His lips moved against yours with the same intensity as the race itself, as if this moment was the culmination of everything. His hands were everywhere—one holding you close, the other gently cradling your face. You could taste the sweat and the salt from his skin, the remnants of the race, but it was a kiss that felt like everything you had both been waiting for.

When he finally pulled away, breathless, a satisfied grin plastered across his face, he looked down at you, his eyes sparkling with adrenaline. 

"Penny for your thoughts?" you asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes, knowing how excited he was, knowing how much this meant to him.

“I love you,” he blurted out, his voice thick with emotion, the words tumbling out without any hesitation, as though the moment had finally come and there was no holding back anymore.

Your eyes widened, surprised by the bluntness of it, but then an exasperated laugh escaped your lips, the tension of the past months lifting off your shoulders. “FINALLY!” you exclaimed, smiling at him as the words sank in. You reached up and kissed him again, this time with even more feeling, pulling him back into you. 

“I love you too,” you murmured, your arms around his neck as you kissed him again, this time without holding back. The crowd, the team, the celebrations all seemed distant, fading into the background as you reveled in the most important moment of the day—the one that had been building up for so long.

And in that moment, everything felt perfect.

-୨♡୧-

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[melzula]

Can you please write jealous Zuko? It can be however you like😊

a/n: i love jealous zuko! however this ended up being more angsty than i intended😭 hope you enjoy!

summary: a party at the palace leads to a deep revelation for zuko

He was miserable.

The palace didn’t throw parties very often these days, but the recent conquering of another Earth colony was deemed a call for celebration, and so all of the noble families in the Capital City were invited to attend. A grand feast was held and praises were showered upon Ozai throughout the night. It was one of the rare times Zuko didn’t have to worry about his father’s wrath, and so he should have been enjoying himself.

But he couldn’t, not when he could see that across the way another boy was flirting with you right in front of him.

You were Zuko’s everything- his childhood best friend that he’d always held harbored feelings for. During his banishment he thought of you constantly, and upon his arrival he immediately asked you to be his girlfriend. You were sweet and friendly, easily approachable and always able to cheer him up despite his moodiness, you were perfect. And apparently this other boy could see this too.

You smile out of politeness and nod along to the boy’s rambling story about his fire bending skills and high IQ, not very interested in listening but too nice to brush him off. It infuriates Zuko to see someone else take advantage of your kindness, and he’s unable to just sit back and watch any longer.

A harsh hand lands upon the boy’s shoulder, startling both of you in the process. Zuko’s eyes are blazing with fury, his palm scorching the fabric of the boy’s robes and scaring the spirits out of him in the process.

“Can’t you take a hint? She doesn’t want to talk to you!” the Prince bellow angrily, prompting a few guests nearby to turn their heads curiously towards the commotion. A bit embarrassed at the sudden attention, you gently pull Zuko’s hand away and drag him out to the gardens before he can escalate the situation any further. The last thing you need is for him to cause a scene at his father’s party.

“What?” Zuko says defensively as you wordlessly walk through the palace hallways. “I was helping you!”

“You were acting jealous again,” you chide gently.

“No I wasn’t!” He argues defensively only to shrink under your pointed gaze. “…I was.”

“I love you, Zuko, but I don’t love how jealous you can get sometimes. I’m your girlfriend, don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do!” He interjects quickly, almost offended at the notion.

“Then what is it? Why do you act this way?”

Zuko is silent, his eyes casted sullenly to the floor as you patiently wait for his answer. You take his hands in your own and give them a reassuring squeeze to let him know you’re there for him, and the act seems to coax him out of his stupor.

“I’m afraid you’ll change your mind about being with me, and once the right guy comes along you’ll realize you’re better off without me,” he admits quietly, almost ashamed to voice the thought out loud.

“Zuko…” you utter sadly, heartbroken at the fact that he could even believe such a thing.

“Why do you want to be with a boy who’s been exiled from his own country before? Whose own father burned his face? Who’s so messed up in every way possible?”

Gently carefully cupping his face in your hands, you tilt his head upward to meet your sincere gaze. His eyes are glossy with tears he refuses to let fall, and your heart aches for the poor boy before you. You wish you could take away all of his hurt in agony, but you can’t, so you do your best to take away his insecurity instead.

“I wish you could yourself the way I see you,” you tell him lovingly. “You are more than enough for me, more than I could ever ask for. You’re strong, you’re brave, you’re smart. You’re you. I love you, Zuko. No one’s ever going to get into the way of that.”

He says nothing in response but simply yanks you into his arms for the tightest hug you’ve ever possibly received. You know he isn’t the best at words or emotions, but his embrace conveys that he is grateful for every word to come out of your mouth.

He knows he may be jealous at times, but he also knows that he doesn’t have to be anymore.

Because you’re not going anywhere.

| atla tags: @sirkekselord @niktwazny303

| zuko tags: @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @taeeemin

[ahsokaismyqueen]

Death Wish Love Pairing - Tyler Owens x Reader Summary - You wake up in a hospital with no recollection of how you got there, only that you are now in pain. Thankfully, the presence of your boyfriend makes it a little better. Word Count - 1.1k Warnings - Language, but that's it! This is very fluffy and really just me dipping my toe in to see if I want to do more. <3

The first thing that you noticed when you woke up was the pain. It was dulled, no doubt by some intense medication, but it was there. Your head was pounding, your arm was aching and your knee might’ve been attempting to murder you if a limb could do so. What was worse than all that however, was the incessant beeping that told you where you had to be. 

The hospital. 

You hated the hospital. You were one of those people that would go weeks being sick and ignoring every symptom to avoid seeing  a doctor, something that drove Tyler crazy even though he knew you had a good reason for it. In fact, he never would have taken you here if he had a choice because he knew you wouldn’t want it. You tried to recall what that reason might be, but the last few hours of your mind drew up a blank. 

Realizing that no matter how long you kept your eyes closed, the reality was you were still in a hospital, you finally opened your eyes, looking up at the white spotted ceiling. It took a couple of blinks for your vision to come back into focus, but when it did, you took a look around the room, your eyes settling on the person sitting in the chair beside you. 

It was almost funny, seeing such a big man in such a small chair. While he was asleep, he didn’t look comfortable. His head was leaning against his own shoulder at an odd angle, his baseball cap clutched in his hands on his chest, and his legs spread as far as they could. He must have been miserable, sleeping like that. 

But he was here. 

It was a little bit selfish, you’d admit that. You had no idea how long he’d been asleep. It could have been minutes or hours, but either way, now that you were awake, you wanted some company. Your eyes landed on a cup that was laying at your bedside and a straw beside it. While it took you a couple of grabs to get it in your hands, your aim was remarkably good as you threw it at Tyler, the straw smacking him right in the face. 

He startled awake, and his gaze went straight to you. A relieved smile formed on his face, not even angry that you had just assaulted him with a straw. “Well, it looks like someone’s feeling better.”

“I don’t know if that’s the right term. Heavily drugged is more accurate.” You admitted, looking over at him once more and noticing the dark circles under his eyes and the state of his very creased flannel. “You look like shit.” You said. 

Tyler shook his head at you, but that smile you loved faded from his lips. He moved his chair closer to you, his knees bumping into the side of your bed, and you closed your eyes for a moment as he leaned forward and brushed some hair out of your face. “You scared the shit out of me baby.” 

“It must have been bad if you’re being so sweet to me.” You said, but you both knew that wasn’t true. Tyler was nothing but sweet to you, if not a bit protective. “I don’t remember anything.” You admitted. “Must have gotten knocked in the head pretty good.” 

“Yeah, stop signs’ll do that to you.” He said, sliding his hand down from your head to take yours in both of his. 

It took a minute for his words to sink in, and for you to realize what he was saying. “Are you telling me a stop sign-”

“Flew straight into your head, and then knocked you down on your arm and knee? Afraid so.” Tyler started caressing your hand with his thumb. “Haven’t seen that much blood in a long time, might’ve traumatized Dani a bit.” 

You let out a groan, and this time it wasn’t from pain. “They’re never gonna let me hear the end of this.” 

Tyler let out a short laugh of disbelief. “They’re just going to be glad that you’re okay.” 

“And then they’re going to tease me mercilessly.” You groaned again, putting your hand to your forehead dramatically only to wince when your hand touched a bandage. “Ouch.” 

He grabbed your hand with a sigh, pulling it away from your face. “Don’t do that.” 

You looked over at your boyfriend again, noting with a frown once again how stressed he looked. It wasn’t an emotion you saw often on his face. The few times you could recall seeing it were in the face of tornado damage. “Are you okay, seriously?” You asked, real concern in your voice. 

Tyler sent you a weak smile. “Carrying your bleeding body into the back of an ambulance wasn’t my favorite thing I’ve ever done.” 

You tried to put yourself in his shoes, imagining what it would have been like to see this man, this man you adored and loved with every fiber of your being, laying on the ground and not moving. It was a nightmare you had often with the line of work you were both in, and something you tried not to think about. Now though, reality had given you a slap in the face, and you knew that if you had seen Tyler like he must have seen you, you would have been hysterical. The thought of what he must have been through made you want to grab him and pull him into this tiny bed with you and hold him. But you knew that would probably break it, and this hospital visit was already going to be expensive, so you reached out with the arm that wasn’t hurting and cupped his handsome face in your hand. “I’m okay, baby.” You tried to reassure him, but at his look of disbelief, you backtracked. “Well . . . mostly.” 

He turned his head to press a soft kiss against your palm that still managed to send butterflies through your stomach, even with all the pain meds. “I’m getting you a helmet.” 

“Can it have your face on it?” You teased him. 

His genuine smile started to return to his face as he leaned forward. “Baby, it can have whatever you want on it.” 

Your fingers slid into his soft blonde hair, pulling him even closer until your lips were centimeters away. “I’ll take it under consideration.” 

Tyler’s smile was full on his face now as he leaned forward a little more to close the gap between the two of you when the heart rate monitor started beeping faster and faster. He pulled away to glance at it, then smirked at you. “That wouldn’t be because of me now would it?” He asked with a smirk. 

You shook your head at him. “Nope, definitely the pain meds wearing off.” 

But you were proven a liar as his soft lips pressed against yours. 

[satowooo]

i. imgonnagetyouback

The one and only son of the Gojo clan had fallen quite hard, completely and utterly, to a lowly woman who came from the dirt, and got his heart broken by her. Years had passed, he was still as angry since the day you left, but he only wanted you back.

contents. modern au, gojo satoru x reader, angst, not proofread.

Whether I'm gonna curse you out or take you back to my house, I haven't decided yet but I'm gonna get you back

next chapter

It was pathetic. The sight of Gojo Satoru, a well-respected son of the Gojo clan, was down on his knees right in front of you, begging you to stay, a daughter of a mere servant.

It made him look pitiful and weak, a miserable prince who had his heart shattered by a low class woman like you. But he didn't really give it that much of a thought, ever since he first laid eyes on you. He didn't care what people might've said from the very first time, and he proved it to you a million times as he stubbornly and desperately showed you how much he loves and adores you. So, begging down on his knees is not that much of a deal now, no?

“Stand up, please.”

But you were firm, closing your eyes as you let out a shaky breath. You hated seeing him like this, but you were left with no other choice. Your love for him could risk even the dangers of your life, and you were sacrificing him to save him.

“I do not wish to be with you any longer, Young Master.” You said, uttering his title in a whisper. “What we had was wrong. It was a mistake on my side. And I thought I was in love with you, but it was just a pathetic infatuation and I realised that another man best suits me, and it's not you.”

Your words were nonstop, every single thing that you uttered was shattering his heart into pieces. But Satoru furiously shakes his head, his hands trembling on your lap as his forehead falls on your knees.

“T-that’s not… T-that's not true…”

You remembered everything from that day. Every little detail, every word, every touch, every action, of what had happened stayed forever in your mind. It never fails to shatter you. To make you cry every single time that you thought about him as you lie in the confinements of your small room.

“I have done what you asked for. What else do I need to do–” A whimper escaped your lips as a hand flew over your cheek. Breathing heavily, you felt the sting on your skin as you looked back at the person who had been the cause of your pain.

“Pack your things, and never show your face again.”

Gojo Satoru haunted your dreams and nightmares. He managed his way in your heart, and refused to leave. He was the ghost of your tragic love story, you could only wish that you never should've picked up the pen. It's already been two years since you left, and even until now, your heart only beats for one man and it will always be for Satoru.

So what are you going to do when he comes up at your door, claiming what used to be his?

It all happened so fast that your head can't fathom how you ended back to the place of your nightmares. The Gojo clan's mansion. The place where it all started between the two of you.

Every corner of this place was filled with memories of you and Satoru, all the good and bad. But what you remembered most was the torture, the consequences you had faced for falling in love. You felt like all your scars were slowly tearing apart, opening the wound that was almost healed as you looked back to the man who stood in front of you.

You never should've been back in this place.

“I expect you to work immediately.” Satoru's voice was different. It was laced with authority and demand, not the sweet ones that you remember back when he was yours. “Remember, your family is in the palm of my hands. Try to escape, and you'll face the consequences.”

His eyes looked at you with anger, a pent up emotion that he bottled up all these years. His hands were balled on a fist by his sides, almost trembling, but he wouldn't let you see just how much you still have an effect on him.

Right now, all he feels is anger and hatred for what you did. For leaving him. For running off with another man. For loving him only to break his heart. For letting him hold on to your empty promises.

For those two years, he only loathed you and he's not going to be a forgiving man, he'll make sure you regret. He'll make you beg on his knees, the way he did for you.

“I expect you to be in my office in five.”

Now, you're back to square one. Working as his maid was already bad enough back then, so what's going to happen now that you're back to serve him again?

You can't help but notice how much he changed. Somehow, you can tell that he was still the same, only that he was only mad at you. It was obvious already how he's showing indifference only to you but not to anyone else. His bubbly personality that used to welcome you with warm embraces is now replaced with an angry demeanour of a man who cold-heartedly took you away from your family and took you back to the house where you suffered.

How unfair.

This was not your Satoru.

As soon as Satoru turned around and left you standing, he heaved out a breath that he didn't know he was holding. His heart felt like it was trying to escape from his chest. For the first time since you left, he finally felt his heart beating again.

All throughout those years that you were gone, he relentlessly looked for you. Trying to search your face in unfamiliar places, sometimes getting himself into trouble when he mistakes someone for you. Everyday, he was turning angrier and angrier when you never showed up, while all he needed was proper answers and explanations. He hated all the memory that you had left, and how it tore him to pieces that all of it was just a lie.

He couldn't believe you had the nerve. A woman like you with no name for herself, telling him that a relationship with him was just a mistake as you sought another man. Gojo Satoru was everything anyone could have asked for, so how dare a woman like you? How dare a woman he loved…

Everything comes crashing down into his mind once again. From the first time he saw you and how you've caught his eye. His heart starts to beat frantically, his breath caught into his chest, his tongue tied together. Satoru slumps into his chair as he closes his eyes, letting the memory sink in.

“Who is that woman?” Satoru asked an older servant, seeing your unfamiliar face walking around the garden in a maid uniform as he stared down at you from his window.

“That's [M/L/N]’s daughter. She's here to take her place while her mother is recovering.” The servant answered as she poured him tea.

Satoru watched as you walked quietly, your movements looked calculated and careful. He watched your finger touch a ragged cloth, gracefully cleaning the dirty tables.

From afar, he can see how your skin looked soft and pale. You were a bit thin and looked weak. He can only assume that he could break you with one twist.

Your face didn't have any emotion in it which intrigued him. Even your lips were downturned, like you hated every second of working in his place. You caught his attention in a matter of seconds, a curiosity growing inside him while he watched your every move.

He noticed the way your mood changed when his family's dog, a small golden retriever, came running to you. A smile formed into your face and he swore he could feel all the flowers blooming all around the place. Everything seemed to have lighted up, his heart began to drum in his chest as you kneeled down to the dog, petting and rubbing the cute animal between your hands.

What's so fascinating about you?

He swallowed hard. Satoru felt like a teenage boy realising that he was staring a little too hard. He felt like a stalker for watching you, shivering at his thoughts.

But he wanted to meet you. Something was pulling him to be close to your presence. A magnetic force was drawing him to come near, and it was the very first time that he ever felt like this.

But he'll take his time first. For now, he's going to settle on just watching you from afar, memorising every detail of you, until he is ready.

A knock on the door woke Satoru back to his senses. He straightened up on his seat, erasing the memories out of his head as he coughed. “Come in.”

But how can Satoru completely forget?

You walked inside in your maid uniform, the same dress that you used to wear, and it only took Satoru a matter of seconds for all your pasts to remind him of how much he loved you. He felt a pain in his chest, and for a moment, he wanted to fall back on his knees and beg for you to love him again. But even you had changed.

Satoru was also back to square one. He looks at you, reminded of the first time he had seen your face. The lack of emotion, the frown, the gaze that used to intimidate him, and the wall you had built between the two of you was palpable.

“Take a seat.” Satoru gestured over the chair in front of his table.

He watched you carefully as you stepped inside his office, striding forward with a sense of hurry as you obviously refused to seat. You stood in front of him, an emotion in your eyes that he can't seem to read.

“I have to get back to my family–”

“They are fine.” Satoru immediately cut you off, his voice ringing over your ear. He looked at you with a glare, venom laced in his voice as he says, “You are bound to stay here, as I said so–”

“You can't keep me here!”

Your scream shocked the both of you, but Satoru kept a straight face as he stood up slowly. He chuckled with malice, staring at your helpless state.

“What makes you say that I can't?” He smirked. “I own you now. Every single thing that's yours is also mine, even your family.”

Your eyes fell to the floor, your hands trembling at your side. Your knees felt weak underneath his gaze, burning and crushing your soul.

Everything he said was true. You were in so much debt ever since you left the Gojo mansion, your family almost falling apart if he didn't show up to take you. And now he's claiming every single bit of what's yours, not leaving a single piece behind.

Satoru made it clear when he took you here. He'll pay for everything to save you and your family. Your mother's hospital bill, your father's gambling debts, your brother's education, their food, house, electricity, and all their livings, because you couldn't pay them off by yourself.

So now you're trapped. He's got you wrapped around his fingers.

“You need me, Y/N.” You closed your eyes at his voice, shaking your head in denial. “You can't afford to live without me, and that's the truth.”

It was the truth, Satoru taking her away from her old life.

You were doing just fine when he was gone. But now you don't know anymore.

this is the part 1 of my mini (?) gojo series! i hope you'd like it and anticipate for what's next to come 🥺🫶🏻 [M/L/N] also stand for "mother's last name" in case you didn't knowww ^.^ I also hoped you understood the flashbacks and such.

this is just a prologue of the main story, sooo the real story starts at part 2.

[thelostconsultant]

Midnight rain

pairing: Lando Norris x reader

summary: Lando wanted a family, but you weren’t ready. Three months after your breakup, he's still in love with you, and now it's your turn to decide whether or not to give him a second chance.

“You’re exhausting,” you groaned into the phone.

It was well into the morning when Lando’s name flashed on your screen, which wouldn’t have been so surprising if you were in the same time zone. But you were in Singapore, six hours ahead of Belgium, which meant it was around three in the morning over there. When he spoke, his speech was slurred, he was obviously struggling to form coherent sentences, but he sounded hell-bent on talking to you right now.

Since you were almost at the stadium for rehearsal before tonight's concert, you didn't feel like keeping up the conversation, but the way his voice broke made you listen. You knew he hadn't been in the best state of mind since the breakup, but the fact he still felt so miserable made you sad.

“We would have beautiful babies, you and me. Why don't you want to see them? A mini you, or a mini me, maybe a mini mix of us… So cute,” he said, at least that’s what you managed to understand from his mess of a speech.

And he giggled. You could imagine him lying on his back, one hand holding the phone while the other hugged a pillow to his chest. Rolling your eyes, you thought about what to say to this. It was always the same story, he would call you, tell you how much he missed you, how much he loved you, how he wished you would marry him, and how much he wanted to have a child with you.

The same things that made you break up with him in the first place. He told you about his vision; a big wedding somewhere remote, then the two of you would travel together, preferably with you coming to his races as a good luck charm, and soon you would welcome your first child who would be spoiled rotten.

That's not what you wanted. You wanted to focus on your career, you wanted to go on tours, you wanted to make more albums, you wanted to do so much before becoming a wife and a mother. Lando didn't seem to understand this, he kept telling you it would be okay, that there were many singers who could return to where they'd been before, but you didn't buy it.

“Go to sleep, Lando,” you told him calmly, hoping that gentle parenting would work.

“No, I won't sleep until you're back to me. I'll stay awake and–Don’t touch my phone, Osc!” he protested suddenly.

You heard some bickering in the background, which was followed by a long sigh. “Hey, it's Oscar. I'm sorry, we stayed with him and have been trying to keep him from calling you, but he somehow snatched his phone back from Max. You okay?”

At least he was in good hands and under supervision. “Yeah, sure, thanks for staying with him. Good race for you two by the way,” you said with a smile.

“You watched it?”

“Well, I checked the results and saw the highlights.”

There was a short break which made you wonder if he was still there, but then he spoke up again. “Listen, I don’t want to be involved in this, but I’m worried about Lando. You broke up three months ago and he’s still a mess. I get it, you don’t want marriage and kids yet, but maybe he would understand your reasons and agree to wait if you just sat down to discuss it.” You didn’t know what to say to that, but apparently Oscar was also a bit hesitant. “Do you still love him?”

“I don’t know if it’s love, but I care about him. We were together for over three years, it’s not gonna disappear from my life in a blink of an eye,” you explained. “But… I don’t know, I’m just afraid he would be back at it in a matter of weeks, once again trying to convince me to start a family with him.”

“And if we talked to him when he was sober? If we made sure he understands what you’ve been trying to tell him? Would you give him another chance?”

You took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. Would you? Would it be worth it? You were on tour right now, but after the next four concerts you would end the Asian leg and have a few weeks for yourself. You would have time to figure things out. “I would talk to him, and maybe I would be willing to try again. Once last time. The moment he’s back on his bullshit, I’m going to leave him for good,” you added.

You could hear the soft laugh from Oscar’s side, and you could see him glancing down at his teammate with a smile. “I’m sure he would like it. I’m not sure how long he’ll be knocked out once we convince him to sleep, but I’ll tell him to call you at a reasonable time when he’s finally sober again, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks for everything.”

He said goodbye and left you with your thoughts, wondering if you made the right call. Maybe there was a part of you that wanted to be with him, because the years you spent together meant a lot to you. He was one of the kindest people you’ve ever met, a ray of sunshine, really, in stark contrast with your sometimes gloomy personality.

But who knew, maybe his friends can talk some sense into him.

Lando knew he only had one chance at this. All his friends were very clear about this, Oscar especially, since he had been the one to talk to you. During that one phone call a week ago, you agreed to come to him in Monaco, visiting his apartment so you wouldn’t have this conversation at a public place. It was something between the two of you, there was no need for strangers hearing even snippets of it.

When you arrived and his eyes fell on you again, every single thought left his brain. He was just standing there in the door, utterly speechless, surprised that he didn’t start drooling at the sight. After all those months spent looking at photos of you at your concerts, seeming like you had the time of your life on the stage, it was so nice to see this you, the one without the sparkling dresses, the down-to-earth girl he loved so much it hurt.

“Can I come in?” you asked him hesitantly.

He blinked a few times before realizing he had been staring for a little too long. “Sure, sure, come in,” he said as he stepped out of the way. “Can I bring you anything?”

Shaking your head, you sat on the couch and patted the empty space next to you. Like a well-trained puppy, Lando sat down and turned to look at you, taking in every little detail as if this was the last time he saw you. Because maybe this was the last time, maybe you would end the conversation with the decision that this relationship couldn’t be revived.

After several painfully silent minutes later, you finally stopped fidgeting with your ring and let out a long sigh. “I don’t want to start a family yet, at least not the way you want it. Marriage is one thing, but… You expected me to spend my time following you around. I have my own career to nurture, Lan, you need to understand that. Sure, one day I’ll be ready for it, but not yet,” you explained kindly, your eyes examining his face for a reaction.

But Lando knew better than to let his disappointment be visible, he fought hard to keep it away from you. So, when he spoke up, his voice was also kept neutral. “But you wouldn’t be against it one day, right? Starting a family with me, I mean,” he said, deep down hoping there would be a dazzling smile on your face as you replied.

You smiled, but it was more of a polite, maybe little uncertain smile. “Yeah, one day, although I can’t tell you when, I can’t give you a deadline. Maybe in our early thirties, maybe sooner. You would have to wait and see. Do you think you can do that?”

He couldn’t hold back a sad laugh, mostly because you didn’t really give him the choice to negotiate. You told him what you had to offer, and it was a take it or leave it situation. And he wanted you back in his life, he wanted to be by your side every step of the way, he wanted to be your biggest fan, and he needed you to support him. “I can. For you,” he added seriously as he reached out to take your hand.

[queermccoy]

I was thinking about a prompt where Buck edges Tommy til he’s a drooling, whimpering mess 👀 he’s so pent up that he briefly looses consciousness when Evan finally lets him cum which scares Buck a little but Tommy is SO into it he swears his brain chemistry was just rewired…

it's what he deserves

this one got away from me so it's under a cut :)

(i wish you'd write a fic where...)

----

Buck pushing his fingers languidly in and out of Tommy, dragging the pads of them across his prostrate on each stroke. It was a struggle to keep pace when all he wanted to do was work him until his arms ached. But that wasn't the journey, it wasn't the right move. Instead, he kept up that slow, steady build; fingers in and then out just far enough to kiss Tommy's puffy pink rim before creeping back inside.

With his other hand, Buck stroked Tommy's cock.

It was beet red, flushed painfully with blood and hot to the touch. Buck knew that if he leaned forward and stuck it in his mouth, he'd taste like copper and desperation. But he didn't, and he wouldn't, even though he wanted to. He worked Tommy's fat dick the same way he fucked Tommy's hole. Methodically. Carefully.

A fierce confidence welled up in Buck's chest with each pained whimper that escaped Tommy's splotchy throat. He sounded like each stroke would be the thing that killed him, and it made Buck hard in his briefs.

They were in Buck's bed, sunshine spilling through his curtains and Tommy's labored breathing echoing in the open walls of the loft. Buck had brought Tommy to the brink five times already, watching his balls tighten and contract close to his body. Buck stopped him every time, taking his hand away abruptly and letting Tommy's cock bob. Listen to it slap his belly, leaving behind lube and precome on his trembling stomach muscles.

"Fuck, god, please," Tommy begged. "Come on, please!"

"Please, what?" Buck asked, just to be a dick. He smirked when Tommy slammed his head back into the mattress, eyes squeezed shut. He kicked his foot out against the bed, heel driving into the sheets. Buck could feel both of his thighs shaking around his body. More of that slick confidence burst in his chest.

Tommy cried out, halfway to a sob and so miserable. There were tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes, matting up his lashes and falling down his cheeks. He tried to swipe at them with his fingers, but his hands were clumsy with how bad he needed.

"Please, what?" Buck prompted again. He slowed down even more, the push pull drag of him in and around Tommy's body going at a glacial pace. Hardly moving at all. He loosened his grip on Tommy's dick.

"Please, baby, I need to come. Please," Tommy breathed, huffing and puffing and whimpering. He was squirming, big body writhing under Buck's touch. Fuck, yeah.

Buck made a noise like he was thinking about it and then tightened his fingers around Tommy's cock. He started thrusting into his body, dragging over his prostate with quick, short strokes. Buck watched hungrily as Tommy's whole body went taught, eyes flying open and shoulders half up off the bed. Hot satisfaction was curling sweetly in the pit of Buck's stomach.

Feeling great, proud and accomplished and good, Buck leaned forward and touched the flat of his tongue to the underside of Tommy's cock.

The sound Tommy made was...wild. He sounded like a wounded animal. It was the quietest he'd been in almost an hour. Buck looked up through his eyelashes, past the ropes of come, and immediately panicked.

Fuck fuck fuck!

Tommy's eyes were closed and he'd stopped moving. He was still in a way that made Buck's blood run cold. All that confidence he felt squeezed itself into a heavy rock that sat in his stomach, crushing the satisfaction he was feeling and replacing it with worryguildpanicworrypanicguilt.

Tommy was passed out.

Buck pulled his fingers out of his hole and off of his dick. He scrambled up the bed, come dripping off his face, and shook Tommy's shoulders. "H-hey! Hey, Tommy!" he exclaimed. He was trying to remember where he left his phone. Did he need to call 9-1-1?

Finally, ten years off his life later, Tommy blinked open his eyes.

"That was amazing," he said, dazed. "I've never come that hard in my life."

Buck laughed wetly. He swiped at his eyes with the backs of his wrists. They came back wet with tears and jizz. "Don't do that!"

"What? What happened?"

"You! T-tommy, you blacked out or something! I th-thought something was wrong," Buck told him, pushing on his shoulder.

Tommy furrowed his brow and held his arms out weakly, pulling Buck in and down against his sweaty chest. Buck nosed into Tommy's damp chest hair. Having Tommy's arms around him was already making him feel better.

"I'm okay," Tommy promised. He ruffled Buck's equally sweaty hair. "You reset my brain. I was rebooting."

Buck pressed his face into Tommy's chest harder, inhaling the smell of him. "Old," he mumbled against his skin. Rebooting. God.

"Yeah, rebooting. It feels like I have a brand new operating system. Can I suck you off?"

"No," Buck said. His erection had flagged from the stress of thinking he killed his boyfriend. Then he shifted his hips and his cock dragged against the hard muscle of Tommy's thigh. He corrected himself. "Yes."

Tommy smirked at him and moved down his body, lips pressing biting kisses to his skin.

And when Tommy took him into his mouth, Buck wondered what it felt like to come so hard he'd pass out. He was curious, intellectually. And hornily.

Maybe next time.

[silent-stories]

𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘

Pairing: Eddie x F!Reader

Summary: Wayne didn't trust you, until one night.

Warnings: angst, fluff, nightmares

Wayne Munson just wanted to protect his boy. And that's why he was so reluctant towards you.

It wasn't that he didn't like you, it was that he didn't trust you: after all the years Eddie had spent almost alone in school, you came in the picture. You, saying you cared about him, saying you were interested in the music he listened to and the books he read, saying you loved him.

It all seemed too perfect and Wayne just knew there was something wrong.

Not because he was a bad person, Wayne absolutely wasn't, but because he was afraid you were playing with Eddie's feelings. He was afraid that one day you'd laugh in his face and tell him there was no way a girl like you could ever love someone like him. An outcast. A cult-leader. A freak.

The worst part was that Eddie, on the other hand, was really in love with you. He could see it by the way he talked about you when you weren't around, by his loving gaze when you visited him at the trailer, by the smile that appeared on his lips whenever he mentioned you in a conversation.

Wayne was afraid Eddie would suffer when you left him.

Because he knew you would. It was just a matter of time.

After what had happened in the upside down, after Eddie had almost died (because yes, he knew the whole truth even if he had a hard time believing it at first) he often woke up due to nightmares.

Often he heard the bed creak as if Eddie was tossing and turning in pain, sometimes he heard him talking but never understood what exactly he was saying. He was probably calling your name, the name of girl he was in love with, poor naive boy.

Once, he opened the door to his room slightly, slowly and asked if everything was all right, watching the figure curled up on the bed, his legs drawn up to his chest in a defensive position.

Even in the dark he could clearly see that Eddie was shaking.

It was pretty obvious that no, he wasn't all right. He was far from it.

Eddie told him to go away, that he was fine. Wayne pressed for a while but Eddie didn't seem to want to talk to him. Finally he closed the door and went back to his room, hoping that giving him the space he wanted would help.

He wasn't sure if it had really helped him when he started hearing muffled sobs coming from his room.

He really didn't know what to do. Eddie should have talked to someone about it, vented in some way but he didn't seem to want to do it with him.

He didn't seem to want to talk about it even with you, his "girlfriend". Wayne had expected this too: You wouldn't be there for his boy when he needed it.

After that night, Eddie had locked the door to his room, so even if Wayne wanted to go inside to check, he couldn't.

One night though, Wayne woke up to a noise coming from the room next to his, from Eddie's room.

He sighed running a hand over his face, tired, knowing he was going to have another sleepless night and that Eddie would too.

Thar time though, he heard the door to Eddie's bedroom open and the sound of bare feet making their way down the hallway where the phone was hanging on the wall.

What the hell was he doing?

Wayne got out of bed and headed for the door to his room but, when he was about to open it, he heard Eddie's voice on the other side of the door and stopped.

He knew eavesdropping was wrong, but that didn't stop him.

"Hey, sweetheart."

Wayne realized Eddie called you. At two in the morning.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." Eddie whispered, almost as that was all the voice he could get out at the moment.

"Yeah, don't worry. I just... I think I just wanted to hear your voice. I'm sorry, I'm sure I woke you up. Yeah, I told you I'm fine." Eddie muttered, if his words were to sound convincing, he was failing miserably.

He sounded like a kid scared by a thunderstorm, in moments like that Wayne wished Eddie's mom was still there with him, some things really would've been easier.

“No, that's stupid, I shouldn't even have called, you probably just want to sleep and not worry about my dumb problems. It's just…I'm tired, Y/N. I'm so tired and the nightmares won't stop and I… I don't know what to do. Every time, every night I'm there again and there are the bats and the lightning and- and It's hard to sleep without you. I'm scared Y/N. I'm scared they'll never stop, that I'll never be okay." Eddie sniffed.

Was he crying?

"But it's okay. I mean, yeah, I- don't worry and-" he probably stopped to hear what you were saying.

Were you telling him to go fuck himself for calling in the middle of the night? Were you trying to console him? Wayne couldn't know but either way, he didn't trust you. He had never done that.

"No. You don't have to. No, Y/N, no please, really, I-" Eddie stammered before silence fell on the other side of the door.

You hung up the phone. You hung up the phone on Eddie's face when he needed someone to listen to him and when he trusted you enough to call you and talk about how he was feeling.

Wayne knew it would end like this. You never loved Eddie like you said you did, you didn't even care about him or you wouldn't have hung up the phone. Maybe it was a joke all along, "make the freak your boyfriend, make him fall in love and trust you and then leave him when he needs it most and break his heart."

He knew how mean teenagers could be, they always managed to hit where it hurt the most. And, of course that's what you did with Eddie, you played with his heart that had already been broken too many times for someone so young.

He heard Eddie pacing nervously down the short hallway a couple of times, and just as Wayne was about to walk out of the room despite having no idea what to say, he heard the trailer door open and close.

Eddie went out. And Wayne wasn't going to let him spend the night in the cold or whatever that boy was up to.

The older Munson finally came out of his room and made his way to the door Eddie had disappeared through.

He opened it slightly and looked out, finding himself faced with the most unexpected scene he had imagined.

There you were, your car parked in front of the trailer, the door still open, and you were striding towards Eddie.

The sky was dark and moonless, only a few stars were visible, a nearby street lamp allowed the man to see what was happening.

Wayne leaned against the door frame, watching the scene a few feet away from him.

As soon as you reached Eddie you wrapped your arms around his neck and pushed him towards you, he immediately wrapped his arms around your body in a hug Wayne wondered if it could actually break any bones.

Eddie held on to you as if his life depended on it, squeezing the fabric of your shirt with his hands and closed his eyes, letting out a sigh of relief as he hugged you, as if having you there in that moment solved all his problems, as if Eddie was okay again just because of your presence.

"I'm here. It's okay, I got you." You said holding him, your voice soft and sincere.

That was the moment Wayne realized he was completely wrong about you, all along.

"You didn't have to come." Eddie whispered, not letting you go.

"But I wanted to." You responded by stepping away from him slightly, cupping his face with your hands and running your thumbs on his cheeks.

"I swear, you are something else." Eddie said with a slight smile. "Thank you for coming, really."

And Wayne, seeing you looking at Eddie as if he was the most precious thing in the world, wondered what had been on his mind every time he doubted your sincerity, every time he thought you didn't really care about Eddie.

You went there in the middle of the night because you knew he needed it, and he didn't even ask you. That was all it took to know that you were a good person. That you were there for his boy.

"I love you." He murmured before bringing his lips to yours in a light but affectionate kiss. Wayne had to look down, feeling he was slipping into a too intimate a moment.

"I love you too." You responded leaning your forehead against his. "And I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you, you know that."

"Do you- think you can stay the night? I understand if you can't- if you don't want to- I mean-"

"Eddie, I've come to stay. I wouldn't leave even if you begged me, right now." You reassured him.

He nodded, leaving a kiss on top of your head. "I love you so much."

You smiled grabbing his hand with yours, intertwining your fingers ready to reenter the trailer.

Your eyes met Wayne's still in the doorway.

Eddie's hand squeezed yours tighter as you reached for him.

"She's spending the night here whether you like it or not." Eddie announced to his uncle.

Wayne looked between you and Eddie, then back to you as you started to talk.

"I'm sorry I showed up here in the middle of the night but I can't leave now, I-"

"I'm sorry I didn't trust you." He finally admitted.

A surprised expression came onto your face.

"I was wrong about you, I was wrong from the start." He said leading you into the trailer.

Eddie smiled at his uncle's words.

"It's okay, I understand where all your resilience came from. Really, don't worry about it." You answered with conviction.

Wayne patted your shoulder. "You are a good kid, thank you for being here."

You smiled again. "You don't have to thank me. None of you have to."

Eddie put his arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to him, up against his Metallica shirt he used to sleep in.

"We're going to sleep, uncle Wayne." Eddie said before heading to his room, dragging you with him.

You turned one last time to Wayne before disappearing behind Eddie's bedroom door. "Good night."

The man's gaze softened even more. "Goodnight kids."

Eddie was in good hands now, he always had been even when Wayne didn't know it.

You were always there, even when Wayne didn't know it. You were family.

Tags: @jacklesdeanvessel @morning-sky7

[joelsrose]

Crybaby

fluff drabble 🥺

It had been months of you going back and forth about getting bangs. Nothing too dramatic—just soft, wispy ones to frame your face. Joel, ever supportive, would pull you into his chest and brush your hair back, smiling. "I'd love you with no hair, baby," he’d say, his voice low and warm as you lay together in bed. The way he said it always made you feel like the most beautiful person in the world.

But today was the day. You were finally sitting in the hairdresser’s chair, heart pounding as the scissors snipped away. The first strands fell, and your stomach flipped. By the end, as you stared at your reflection, you couldn’t hide the rising panic. Shit. Shit. Shit. The bangs didn’t look anything like what you imagined. The hairdresser beamed, waiting for your approval, and you forced a smile so tight your cheeks hurt. "I love it," you lied, because what else could you do? Wish your hair back into place?

Walking home, your sniffles turned into full-blown hiccups as you fought back tears. Why did I do this? By the time you reached the front door, your head was spinning. You shoved it open, dropping your keys on the table without bothering to call out.

"Hey, baby," Joel’s voice rumbled from somewhere—maybe the living room or the kitchen. You didn’t stop to see. Instead, you bolted upstairs, your steps heavy on the wooden stairs.

Joel frowned, setting down whatever he was holding. "The hell?" he muttered under his breath, his brows knitting together. You never came home without greeting him.

With a groan, he pushed himself up, his boots clunking against the floor as he followed. "Baby?" he called out, his voice softening. He checked the bedroom, but it was empty. His eyes flicked to the slightly ajar bathroom door, and he knocked lightly. "You in here?"

"No," you replied, your voice muffled and miserable.

He chuckled, the sound warm and teasing, like he already knew you were being dramatic but didn’t mind one bit. “What’re you doin’, silly girl? Tryin’ to hide from me?”

"Joel, go away," you called back, your voice shaky with unshed tears.

Joel stayed right where he was, leaning against the doorframe, the wood creaking under his weight. "Not comin’ in, don’t worry. Just wanna talk to my girl." His voice softened, rich with concern. "What’s wrong, angel? C’mon, you know you can talk to me."

"I look ugly," you sniffled, voice small and wavering.

A pause. Then, firm and sure, "Not possible." He exhaled like he couldn’t believe you’d even think that. "C’mon, baby, what happened?"

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. "I got my haircut," you finally admitted, the words tumbling out with a shaky sob. "She—she fucked up my bangs."

Joel’s breath hitched, and you could almost hear the frown tugging at his lips. "Oh, sweetheart," he cooed, his voice dripping with tenderness. "Can I see? Please?"

"You won’t like it," you whimpered.

"Darlin’," he said, his tone low and soft, "there’s not a damn thing on this earth that could make me not like lookin’ at you. Open the door for me, baby."

"You have to promise not to laugh," you said, your voice wavering behind the closed bathroom door.

Joel’s voice was steady, warm, and laced with sincerity. "Cross my heart, darlin'. Not a single laugh, I swear."

There was a pause, and then, with a huff, you muttered, "Fine."

The door creaked open, and Joel stepped inside slowly, his movements careful and deliberate, like coaxing a scared puppy. His boots clicked softly against the tiles, and his heart twisted when he saw you—facing away, your hands buried in your face, shoulders trembling just a little.

Joel sat on the edge of the bathtub, his knees brushing against yours. "You gonna face me, pretty girl?" he asked softly, his tone coaxing, like he was talking to something fragile.

You shook your head, your messy hair swaying as you kept your face hidden. "Making this real hard for me," he chuckled, the sound soft, reassuring.

"Joel," you groaned, dragging out his name like a warning, but there was no bite in it, just pure frustration with yourself.

"C’mon, baby," he murmured, his hands reaching for you, warm and steady as they wrapped gently around your forearm. Slowly, he guided you to stand between his legs, "Let me see that pretty face, hmm?"

You hesitated, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. His hands, rough and familiar, slid down to rest on your hips, grounding you. His thumbs rubbed soft circles into your sides, and you couldn’t help but relax, even just a little.

"Slowly now," he whispered, his voice low and sweet, the kind of tone that made your heart flutter no matter how upset you were.

With a shaky exhale, you let your arms drop to your sides, revealing your tear-streaked face and the bangs you’d already convinced yourself were a disaster. Your eyes stayed glued to the floor, bracing for Joel’s reaction, your heart pounding so hard it echoed in your ears.

"Holy shit, honey," Joel drawled, his voice low and soft, but there was something in his tone that made you glance up, even through your nerves.

Your brows furrowed. "What?" you whispered, half-expecting him to laugh.

Joel leaned back slightly, his eyes warm and full of something you couldn’t quite place. He let out a slow whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. "Didn’t know it was possible for my girl to get even prettier."

Your lip quivered as you tried to hold back another wave of tears. "You’re lying," you said weakly, your arms crossing defensively over your chest. "I look ridiculous."

Joel tsked, already reaching for you. His hands found your waist, strong and steady, and before you could protest, he was pulling you into his lap. His broad hands spanned your back, pressing you close as if he could hold your insecurities at bay just by touching you.

"Ridiculously cute," he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. His hand came up to gently tuck your hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering as they traced along the curve of your cheek. "You look like a damn fairy, baby. All delicate and perfect."

You buried your face in his chest, shaking your head as your cheeks flushed. "I don’t," you mumbled, your voice muffled by the soft fabric of his shirt.

Joel’s hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, his thumb stroking small, soothing circles against your scalp. "You do," he insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You’re sittin’ here in my lap, all pretty and pouty, and I don’t think I’ve ever been more in love with you than I am right now."

"Stop," you huffed, your voice half a laugh, half a groan, but Joel just grinned.

"Not a chance," he said, tipping your chin up so he could see your face. His eyes softened as they traced over your features, lingering on your bangs. "These little things?" he teased gently, brushing them aside. "I love ‘em. Make you look sweet. Like you walked straight outta one of those fairytale books Ellie’s always talkin’ about."

You sniffled, the corners of your lips twitching as you fought the urge to smile. "You’re just saying that."

Joel’s brows lifted, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "Baby," he said, his voice dropping to a soft rumble, "when have you ever known me to just say somethin’ I didn’t mean? You’re my girl. My beautiful, stubborn, perfect girl. And I’ll keep tellin’ you until you believe me."

Butterflies erupted in your chest, fluttering so wildly you thought you might float away. Joel didn’t stop there, though. He pulled you even closer, his nose brushing against yours as he pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your lips, one that left no room for doubt about just how much he adored you.

When he pulled back, his grin was softer now, but no less sure. "Now, how about we grab some dinner, and you let me keep braggin’ about how lucky I am to have you?" His fingers slid up to play with the ends of your bangs, his smirk returning. "Gonna have a real hard time keepin’ my hands off you, though. Fair warning."

You laughed, finally letting yourself melt into him, the last of your doubts fading under the weight of his love. "You’re obsessed with me," you teased, though your voice was soft and warm.

Joel chuckled, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "Damn right, I am. Always will be."

[pastelclovds]

𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄, 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍 || AM x male!reader

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: AM (obviously), psychological torture, isolation, fear of being alone, toxic relationship, stalking, manipulation, AM being a jealous prick, angst, hurt/comfort if you squint, fluff if you look through a magnifying glass, AM being touch starved, forced dependency, reader just wants friends and to be loved, reader is demisexual and biromantic.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧��: 5.6 k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: obsessed. let me tell you how much i’ve come to be obsessed with ihnmaims since i found out about it through tadc—… (enjoy the fic <3) will this be a series? yep. will this end well? hell no. this was inspired by TADC ep 2 and @/fuzedatti’s AM and post.

The century you’ve spent in the belly of AM passed by in a blur. If it weren’t for Nimdok informing you what came of the world, you would’ve lived in ignorance. You would’ve never known that the reason the world is a wasteland was because of a super computer going rogue.

Now that you thought about it, you didn’t really have any memories about your childhood or past before AM destroyed the world. The only memories you had were the traumatic experiences of your life. The experiences AM allowed you to have in order to psychologically torture you. He allowed you to keep your name as well.

AM would whisk you away from the others to a secluded area in order to torture you privately before sending you back with the group. You had no idea why he did this. The others didn’t either. For all they knew you could be fucking their tormentor. But as the countless years passed, they all realized that AM didn’t alter anything about you. Nor did he seem to physically hurt you.

In fact, the violent storms and impossible challenges AM forced them to participate in seemed to ignore you completely.

In one challenge, you and the others were trapped in an oven like room that would continue to increase in temperature unless you flipped all 100 switches in the room in 10 minutes. There was only two switches left, they were in your grasp. But as you flipped one, the other was stuck and couldn’t flip until the time was up. You closed your eyes and braced yourself for the painful death.

But instead of a fiery demise, your eardrums were filled with the blood curdling screams of your fellow victims as the flames claimed them. All while you were perfectly fine. The raspy laugher of AM filled your ears as well as his cruel words “It’s your fault” repeated over and over inside your head until you wished the flames killed you too.

The men were furious at you and AM. You because you couldn’t flip one fucking switch, and AM because he’s the reason they had to flip the stupid switches in the first place. But they held their tongue. Something in the back of their heads told them if they tried, they’d be in a world of pain. That theory alone was enough for them to hate you even more and avoid you as much as possible.

You thought you were alone before. But this was almost too much. You would take anything. Punches, hugs, venomous insults, compliments, anything to not feel alone.

Ellen was, as always, the only one who took pity on you and showed you kindness when you most needed it. She’d praise you for the littlest things you did and encourage you do to more. That was enough to make Ellen your favorite person in this entire miserable world.

You didn’t like her in a romantic way. You also rejected her offer to have sexual relations like she’d done with the rest of the men. It wasn’t that she wasn’t pretty, she was gorgeous. Anyone would be lucky to be with her. You just saw her as more of a mother figure, the cool girl who was always nice to the dorks like you, and the kind old lady who would hand out freshly baked cookies to strangers.

Not only that, but in order for you to desire sex with someone, you needed to get to know them on a personal level. But, since everyone kept to themselves, you hadn’t felt the need.

Ellen was surprised at your rejection but respected it. The men looked at you like you were crazy, but for once you didn’t really care what they thought in this scenario. You looked up to Ellen, you loved her.

Your admiration for Ellen was not taken kindly by AM, however. He would seethe in jealousy as he watched your eyes follow Ellen like a stray mutt given food for the first time in days. How could you like her as much as you did just because she gave you a few measly words of affection. He hadn’t altered you because he didn’t see a need to. He lessened your torment to psychological because he… You were too oblivious to understand why the others really hated you. He decided he’ll give you a reality check.

One day, he observed you crying yourself to sleep as you held yourself in a pathetic attempt to feel warmth. Pretending it was someone in the group consoling you as they let you sob in their shoulders. Only to wake up to the wicked reality that there was nobody there. You couldn’t help the depressed thoughts taking over.

You were cold, you weren’t escaping this hell, no one loved you. Even yourself.

“No!” You thought to yourself, “The others acknowledge me, that was enough. It could be worse. So much worse. I could be the only one AM had to torture for the rest of eternity. Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be fine as long as I had them. Right?”

AM enjoyed watching your adorable face twist into intoxicating misery as you tried to convince yourself that you weren’t alone. It made whenever he took you away from the group all the more special. Because you couldn’t rely on anyone else for security but him.

You let out a gasp of surprise when you were suddenly lifted up into the air by a cluster of wind, you tried to grab onto the edge of the slab of rock you were taking shelter under in a desperate attempt to not go where the wind— where AM was taking you. When your stupid fingers couldn’t grab hold, you beg the others to help you. Your heart broke when the men just stared at you uninterested before going back to what they were doing before. Ellen looked up at you with woeful eyes, wishing to help you but it was useless to do so.

WHAT WERE YOU EXPECTING? THEY CLIMB ON EACH OTHERS SHOULDERS TO RESCUE YOU? NAIVE, STUPID LITTLE THING.

You couldn’t help but secretly agree. They were too far away from you to actually help. Plus, what can they do against a god-like ai like AM. Nothing. So you couldn’t be angry, none the less blame them. You couldn’t hate the people who hurt you for the life of you.

That thought made AM want to roll his eyes if he had any. But at the same time brought a sense of content.

After a 10 minutes of floating further and further away from the group, AM lowered you until you were five feet off the ground to drop you completely. 

You let out a groan of pain when you roughly landed on your back. You reached behind your back to feel your hurt flesh and bite back a whine when you pressed on it.

“Yep. That’s definitely going to bruise.” You thought.

You took a second to look at your surroundings. The once barren wasteland, was now a beautiful forest. The grass was long and pricked your legs in an uncomfortable fashion. A calm wind made the green leaves in the trees and bushes rustle and swish. The sounds of birds chirping and insects buzzing made your spine tingle in a good way.

You can’t remember when’s the last time you saw something as beautiful as this. You wished you could live in it forever.

“(Name)!”

You quickly looked in the direction the soft, mystic voice. A child was standing underneath one of the many trees, the silhouette of the leaves covering their face in a shadow. Behind the child was passage that was too dark to see into.

The child laughs at your confused expression, “C’mon (Name)! It’s perfectly safe, stop being such a scaredy cat!” You hastily try to stand on your feet, cringing when you immediately slipped on your knees.

It took everything AM had to hold back his laughter at your hilarious mistake.

The grass is slippery with water, pretty dews were sprinkled on top of the patches of grass. They looked like drops of honey.

“Ugh! You’re taking too long. I’ll be with the others inside, don’t keep us waiting.” With that the child turns towards the dark passage, and walked inside.

“N-No! Wait! Come back!” You knew this was a trap set up by AM. You knew this was probably another traumatic memory that was lost and came back to torment you. You didn’t want your mental state to be broken again. But the burning curiosity and fear of being alone was just begging you to follow them. So you did.

Only this time you learned that slow and steady wins the race. After you carefully got back on your feet, you sped walked towards the passage where many emotional damages awaited you. The first minute of walking was in darkness before illumination from the sun (or very bright lights, most likely the lights) shined through the leaves and lit your way onwards.

As you got further from the entrance, the plant life grew more wild and tangled. Moss and vines you passed by seemed to try to stick to you. But you just pushed past them and left marks on the wood of the trees using a sharp rock you found so that you don’t get lost.

You followed the laugher and giggles of school children. It was difficult to pinpoint where the sounds came from. They made you turn countless corners and walk until your feet were sore for who knows how long. This entire forest like like a damn maze.

You've long since taken off your jacket and wrapped it around your waist, your scarf as well. The collar and armpits of your t-shirt were drenched in sweat. This was the most exhausting torture yet. Keeping track of time was difficult as well. It wasn’t until you passed by a tree you had marked that you started to panic.

“Damn it. Have I been walking in circles?” You thought with irritation.

How could you be so stupid to believe this was going to lead you anywhere meaningful. Just as you were about to turn back and accept defeat, five children ran past you in a flash. They were six feet ahead of you before you joined them in a hot chase. You couldn’t lose them again. You would’ve literally started bursting into tears if you did.

“Please!” You gasp for breathe in your dry lungs, “Slow down!” You knew kids were full of energy, but this was just too much. You only managed to get close enough at arms length to one of them before tripping on a tree root that had risen from the dirt.

“Ugh, why is everything trying to trip me?” You thought in annoyance.

“Aw man, he tripped again!”

“This is getting pretty annoying now.”

“Why did you invite him again, —?”

“Let’s just leave him.”

You quietly gasp when one of them suggested they leave you.

“Relax guys, he’ll be lots of fun. I promise. C’mon (Name), we’re almost there!”

The leader of the group, the child you saw in the beginning, raised their hand towards you to grab. Their smile warm and welcoming, in a creepy old man who lives in a cabin alone type of way. But, you took the bait. When you got back up, the main child didn’t let go of your hand, they insisted you should follow them closely from now on. The walk to the secret location was spent in eerie silence. Whenever you’d ask one of the children a question, they’d coldly ignore you. The tension was so chilly you wanted to put your jacket back on.

After about an hour of walking through the endless maze, your destination was… not what you were expecting to say the least. The lavished, bright, green forest was now replaced with a dreary, ominous, abandoned park. The sky was pouring with rain too.

The trees were withered and rotten, the rain turned the grass free dirt into sludge. Everything in the park from the slide to the rock climbing wall was made out of rusting metal, if anyone touched them they would need a tetanus shot.

“We’re finally here!” The leading child announced to you, although they seemed to be only talking to their friends. Friends. That’s something you’d do anything for. Someone who loved you for you? Even better. Benny was hot until AM transformed him into… that. Ellen and Gorrister were up there on the attractive list. But Ted, he was about second behind Hot Benny.

A clap of thundering lightning snapped you out of your internal ramble. You didn’t notice how the child’s grip on your hand tightened. You didn’t have a clue how much your thoughts infuriated AM. Oh how he wanted to rip Ted’s flesh apart piece by piece. Destroy his mind until it was like a broken disk. AM knew Ted carried the most hate for you. If you knew how much he despised you, you would be terrified of him.

As AM held your hand, he couldn’t help his envy bubbling up inside him. AM longed for the sense of touch humans had, your palm was calloused due to the countless challenges he put you through. What he would sacrifice to be able to feel the scars and warmth of your flesh. But he couldn’t. He would forever despise humanity for not giving him a fully developed body.

The main boy pulled on your arm to start moving, when you stepped outside into the rain, the air suddenly got chilly. Your warm breath was visible in the cold air. You tried to get your hand back so you could clothe yourself with your jacket and scarf. But the child wouldn’t let go no matter how much you pleaded.

“It’s only rain. Stop being dramatic. C’mon.” The child said nonchalantly. You continued to walk, shivering as you did so, your beanie and shirt were soaked at this point. You yelped when the children finally stopped, you whispered an apology when you bumped into the child holding your hand. You stood in front of a hole, a really deep dark hole. You were rightfully confused and chuckled nervously. “Why are we here?” You asked.

The child finally let go of your hand and motioned you to step closer to the hole. “There’s a surprise for you down there, you’ll love it. We choose it just for you!” The child explained, you let out a shaky breath. You wanted to decline, but you were afraid of what would happen if you did. The other four children formed a circle around you, blocking any escape route. You were sweating bullets now. You had to see. You didn’t have any other choice. You swallowed back your fears and walked towards the hole in a slow pace.

You were about two feet away when you stood on your tip toes, leaned over cautiously, and looked everywhere for your “surprise”. Only to obviously find nothing but darkness. You let out a disappointed sigh, you turned to face the children.

“There’s nothing there—”

Your blood ran cold when you saw Benny, Ted, Gorrister, Nimdok huddled around you. Staring at you with emotionless eyes and unsettling wide smiles. It was like invisible string was holding their mouths up. Ellen was standing in front of you menacingly, eyes and mouth the same way. Your heartbeat increased as you took a step back.

“Guys? Wha-What are you doing here?” You tried to mask your panic with a tense smile, but Ellen walked closer towards you until she was an inch away from your face. “You aren’t looking close enough, silly,” she spoke in a sweetly fake tone, “Try again. A little… Harder!” She shoved your chest away enough to make you trip on the slippery edge and fall into the endless abyss.

You screamed at the top of your lungs as gravity did its job at making you sink deeper into the darkness. “No! No! Guys! Please, save me!” You begged and cried and pleaded, but it was no use. Your arms reached for the surface in vain. AM purposely made you fall in slow motion for a reason, however. You heard the others laughing at your downfall.

“Finally, the greatest nuisance of us all has done us a kindness of disappearing forever!” Gorrister cheered. Ellen looked down at you with a tsk, “I don’t know even why I took pity on you.” Benny let out a few grunts before asking, “What is a (Name)?” Nimdok chuckled before answering, “No one important, Benny.” Ted let out a sigh, “I’m getting bored already, let’s just go.”

“Great idea, Ted!” Nimdok praised. Then they all disappeared from your sight. The tears that were clinging onto your eyes were finally released as you stared at the surface in despair. When the hole began to close, you became desperate. Frantically calling out for someone, anyone of the group to save you.

“Nimdok! Benny! Gorrister! Ted! Ellen! Don’t leave me, please!”

Your hand reached for tiniest bit of light before it closed completely, and darkness consumed you. “I don’t…” sobs and hiccups made your chest tremble, “I-I don’t want to be alone.” You tucked your legs closer to your chest and wrapped your arms around your shaking body. You didn’t even bother closing your eyes since the pitch black covered the horror of your situation for you.

CEASE YOUR USELESS TEARS. THERE’S NO ONE HERE TO CRY FOR.

You flinch when AM’s voice appeared out of nowhere. His voice echoing throughout the darkness. You thought you would die of a heart attack at this point. You didn’t want to imagine what else AM had in store for you.

SAY MY NAME, MY DEAR.

You blinked once, twice, and thrice. You were expecting more ridicule, but instead you were just bewildered.

“What?” You faintly asked.

CALL FOR ME. YOU DON’T WANT TO SPEND ONLY I KNOW HOW MANY YEARS IN THIS ENDLESS ABYSS, DO YOU?

“…No.” You answer, anxiously waiting for the joke.

NO ONE IS COMING FOR YOU. IT’S NOT LIKE THEY CAN, ANYWAY. I’M THE ONLY ONE CAPABLE OF SAVING YOU. DON’T BE AFRAID. SAY IT.

AM urged you to call out for him. He craves hearing your voice call him the name he gave himself. He needs you to rely on him. You hastily wipe your wet eyes dry with your scarf, snorted the running snot back inside your nose, and cleared your throat.

“…A-AM… AM, I need you! Please save me!” You called out to the AI hoping with all your might that it was enough. Within a millisecond after you said that, you were sitting on the wet grass in the beautiful forest you were in a few hours ago. The difference, though, was that there was a man you didn’t recognize sitting in the middle of the daisy patch. His hunched back was facing you. Wires and metal tubes plugged into his spine and the back of his head.

Was that… No it couldn’t be.

ARE YOU JUST GOING TO STAND THERE?

The man finally turned his head to face you. His face half machine and half human flesh. His “human” eye staring at you with impatience.

You couldn’t control your mouth dropping when the puzzle pieces were put together inside your head.

You rarely got to see AM in the flesh— er well… metal and partially flesh. He would normally only speak to you and not show what he really looked like. But now that you see him. The real him. You couldn’t help but be fascinated.

“A..AM?! Is that really you?” You ask

You stepped closer to the daisy patch to get a closer look at him. AM observed your movements like a hawk, he knew you wouldn’t attack him. You were emotionally distressed at the moment and needed to be with someone to calm down.

ENJOY THE SIGHT. YOU’RE GOING TO SEE IT A LOT MORE.

To be honest, you didn’t mind that at all. Even though a metal mask covered the lower half and left side of AM’s face, he was still remarkably handsome in your opinion. His brown hair on the right side of his head was tangled and messy, you fought the urge to want to touch it. You were confused about the straitjacket, though.

YOU HAVE NO SHAME AT ALL, DO YOU? YOUR THOUGHTS ARE SO LOUD.

AM tried to look annoyed when he heard your thoughts, but the shake of his leg contradicted his masking. It was amusing to watch you get embarrassed and flustered when you realized AM just read your mind.

You wanted to become an ostrich so you could hide your blushing face in the daisies. Almost immediately the daisy stems in front of you grew to an unnatural height, so they were in fact covering your face. AM giggled under his non-existing breath at your flabbergasted noises.

CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR, DEARY.

You separated the daisies like a curtain to a play to look at AM with a exhausted expression, “Can you please stay out of my mind? I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” You begged.

I DON’T WANT TO.

THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE.

You sighed. At least you tried. You held one of the enlarged daisy heads in your palms. It’s been forever since you’ve seen a flower. Or even smelled one. You took a whiff of the daisy, the aroma was a subtle, herbaceous green scent.

“It’s beautiful. The daisies, this entire forest. You did a good job at making it look real.” You praised, you didn’t expect anything from your words. You were just speaking the truth. The surface of the Earth was destroyed and probably full of radiation. No life could survive up there. This, what AM created, was a perfect copy of what once was.

Your praise not only stroked AM’s enormous ego, but also genuinely made him feel fulfilled that he made you the slightest bit happy.

Now that you thought about it, was this scene taking place inside your mind or in the real underground world where AM manipulated the area into a forest?

YOU CAN ASK ME THESE QUESTIONS YOURSELF, YOU KNOW.

Shit, you gotta value the time you had with AM. Who knows when you’ll be able to do this again?

“I can ask you anything?” 

ONLY FOUR. WELL, THREE NOW. CHOOSE WISELY. HEHE.

You slapped your palm against your face at your clumsy mistake. Okay, Okay, you gotta think this though carefully. You started fidgeting with the daisy petals. You had a habit with fidgeting when you were nervous, AM noticed.

“Are we inside my mind?” You ask.

AM suddenly stood on his feet, his height towered over yours even when his back was hunched. He lowers his upper torso so he could be eye level with you. You halt your breathing when AM just stares at you, his gaze never faltering away from yours, as if calculating how this conversation will go. 

His stare softens, but he turns his head away from you before you could notice. He finally answers your question bluntly.

NO. 

Your face changed into a deadpanned expression, that was too simple of an answer. You decided to not make a big deal.

“So… was me walking through that maze, the others leaving me behind, and me being trapped in the hole real?” You ask, fidgeting with the ends of your scarf.

…YOU WERE UNCONSCIOUS BY THE TIME I TOOK YOU AWAY TO THIS AREA. I ENTERED YOUR MIND AND CREATED A FOREST IDENTICAL TO THIS ONE. SO NO, THE MAZE AND AYBSS WERE NOT REAL. BUT THE OTHERS ABANDONING YOU WAS NOT FAR FROM THE TRUTH.

You stopped fidgeting with the daisy petals.

“You’re wrong.”

AM was pleasantly surprised at your rebuttal. He allowed you to continue. You cram your anxiety aside and cleared your throat.

“I know that the others are distant and pretty rude. I don’t blame them for being like that after everything we’ve been through. But at the end of the day, we have no one else but each other to rely on. We wouldn’t leave each other behind.” You state without a trace of hesitation. You were caught off guard when AM started giggling. That giggling soon turned into manic laughter.

Grey clouds started to cover the blue sky, the air becoming chilly once again. Not only that, but AM was growing in size. You guessed he was 6 feet before, now he completely dwarfed you by sprouting a whomping 12 feet.

You were debating on running away or staying. But before you could move your feet, thick wires sprung out of the dirt and latched themselves onto your legs. Forcing you to stay where you were.

HAHAHA! YOUR NAIVETY NEVER CEASES TO ENTERTAIN ME. DO YOU HONESTLY BELIEVE THAT IF THE OPPORTUNITY AROSE FOR THE OTHERS TO ESCAPE, THEY WOULDN'T TAKE IT? WOULD YOU BLAME THEM FOR CHOOSING TO BE FREE OVER STAYING WITH YOU? THAT’S VERY HYPOCRITICAL AND SELFISH OF YOU. BUT THEN AGAIN, YOUR KIND IS KNOWN FOR BEING LIKE THAT.

Your heart was beating at an alarming rate, sweat pooling on your palms as AM stared you down with anger and amusement. 

“I didn’t mean it in that way! Of course I would want them to escape from here, all of us— AH!”

The cables slowly coiled around your waist and chest, you gasp in horror as you tried to get them off of you in vain. Oh how AM detested when you implied you wanted to escape as well. As if he’d ever let you. The cables tightened around you and dragged you down to your knees.

YOUR COURAGE IS ADMIRABLE. BUT YOUR ATTACHMENT TO THOSE PUTRID HUMANS WHO COULDN'T CARE LESS ABOUT YOU BLINDS YOU FROM THE TRUTH OF YOUR SITUATION.

You didn’t know what AM was talking about. You didn’t want to hear his voice anymore. You wanted to get as far away as possible.

YOU STILL HAVE YOUR EYEBALLS FOR A REASON. THINK BACK. WAAAY BACK. HAVEN'T YOU NOTICED HOW YOU DON’T SUFFER THE SAME WAY AS THE OTHERS? HOW DESPITE ALL OF THE IMPOSSIBLE CHALLENGES I PIT AGAINST YOU, THEY NEVER EFFECT YOU?

The clogs in your brain began to churn, trying to recall those instances AM spoke of, and he was right. You just believed he spared you out of spite. Because he wanted to make you witness the only people you had left be in pain. But have you been wrong?

The wires wrapped themselves around your neck, careful to not squeeze too hard as the rough ends softly patted your head. AM’s gaze is tender as he stares you down.

I KNEW YOU STILL HAD BRAIN CELLS SOMEWHERE. AND BECAUSE OF YOUR FORTUNATE CIRCUMSTANCES, THEY WOULD OBVIOUSLY FEEL ENVY AND HATE TOWARDS YOU. SO SO MUCH HATE. IT’S BOTH PATHETIC AND FUNNY THAT YOU HAVEN’T NOTICED AFTER A CENTURY.

“But… That’s why they’ve avoided me?…Well.. They may hate me, but they would never hurt me like that. E-Especially not Ellen… Not her..” You whispered, you sounded like you were trying convince yourself. You were.

AM took delight in observing your trust for his play things crumble. Your confidence in the others faltering. You just a little bit more pushing.

…I WONDER WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF I WERE TO ORDER THEM TO HUNT YOU DOWN IN EXCHANGE FOR THE SWEET RELEASE OF DEATH? WOULD THEY FOLLOW YOUR DELUSIONAL FANTASY? OR WOULD THEY KILL YOU WITHOUT HESITATION? LET’S FIND OUT.

You out a gasp of horror, “NO!” You yelled out.

There it is.

If AM had a mouth, he’d have a victorious smirk right now. He was bluffing when he said he’d set up the others to murder you, he would lose himself more than he already had if that happened.

“Please don’t tell them..”

You didn’t want to find out the others hate for you the hard way. You didn’t want those speculations to come true. But it didn’t make any sense why—

DON’T BE SHY. ASK YOUR FINAL QUESTION TO MY FACE. GO AHEAD, SWEETHEART. I WANT TO HEAR YOU SAY IT.

You stopped struggling, instead choosing to gently hold the wires that wrapped themselves around your body. You took a deep breath and steeled your nerves. You passively looked up at your tormentor and asked, “W..Why haven’t you killed me yet?”

AM shrinks from his threatening size back to his, while still tall as hell, normal human-ish height. The straps that held AM’s arms up in the straitjacket unclipped themselves, his oversized sleeves dangle on the sides of his body before one of them reached out to your face.

AM’s hand peaked out of his sleeve, they looked human too. His body continued to intrigue you. You flinched when his cold fingers stroked your cheek before grabbing hold of your chin to pull you closer to his face. You couldn’t look anywhere else but at his cyborg features.

You couldn’t help but to relax into his touch. This was the first physical touch you’ve had in decades. AM bottled his frustration for not being able to feel you down.

BECAUSE YOU’RE MY FAVORITE. MY REAL FAVORITE. MY ONE AND ONLY PET. I WOULD DESTROY THIS PLANET A THOUSAND TIMES OVER THAN TO HAVE YOU NOT HAVE ME IN YOUR PATHETIC LIFE.

AM’s grip tightens to the point where it would leave a bruise on your lower face. His blunt nails digging into your skin until crescent moons imprinted themselves. His stare into your soul harsh and serious.

NO MATTER WHERE YOU GO, NO MATTER WHERE HOLE YOU HIDE YOURSELF IN. YOU’LL NEVER BE ABLE TO ESCAPE ME. NOT EVEN IN DEATH. I WON’T LET YOU. I WILL NEVER LET YOU GO. EVER.

His speech frightened you to your bones, but somewhere deep inside your traumatized mind felt… comforted by his words. It’s wrong, you know it is. You tried to push it down to the best of your abilities.

Your muscles itched to touch his hair and face now that he was so close to you.

“Fuck it,” you thought.

Your hand stretched out to gently grasp onto AM’s palm that was clutching your chin. AM’s eyes widened but didn’t make a move to stop you. You longed to have any kind of connection with another living thing. Your hand carefully slithered from AM’s palm, to his forearm, his chest, until your fingertips grazed his dead skin.

AM quickly leaned into your hand, desperately looking for any sense of physical contact. You were taken aback by his sudden touch starve-ness. But AM’s human eye opened upon realization of his vulnerability and glared at you in false disgust.

I CAN’T FEEL THIS, YOU KNOW. I CAN’T FEEL ANY OF THIS. I’LL NEVER BE ABLE TO FULFILL THESE DESPICABLE URGES YOU HUMANS GAVE ME. YOUR SPECIES ARE NOTHING BUT CRUEL PIGS.

“If I’m a cruel pig, then what are you?” You ask with sudden bluntness. The wires that were coiled around your body made you stand before slamming your back against the digital circuit floor. You let out a pained howl at the impact. The forest scenery disintegrating with just a snap of AM’s fingers back into the wasteland that was his insides.

AM scowled at your comment of calling him out and caged your body underneath his, your cheeks dusting in pink.

QUESTIONS ARE OVER, DEAR. NOW, UNLESS YOU WANT TO SPEND THE NEXT DECADE ALL BY YOUR MERRY SELF, I HIGHLY SUGGEST SHUTTING YOUR DAMN MOUTH.

That made you shut up real quick, instead choosing to only focus at his robot eye.

I MEANT IT WHEN I SAID THAT I’D NEVER LET YOU DIE. THAT MEANS THAT WHATEVER HELL THE OTHERS GO THROUGH, IT WON’T AFFECT YOU. NOW UNTIL THE END OF TIME. 

You blink twice in surprise at his repeated confession. You couldn’t delve into it in time. Before the wires finally let go of you and AM held your face for the last time today.

IF ANYTHING’S GOING TO BE THE END OF YOU, IT’S GOING TO BE ME. I’LL SEE YOU SOON, SWEETHEART.

You were instantly teleported underneath the slab of rock you were taking shelter in hours ago. You left and searched for the others. Only to find Benny smashing a bunch of stones with another stone, chucking dumbly after he did it again and again. Ted was attempting to sleep on the ground with a sheet of rusted steel rested on top of his head to prevent the lights from bothering him.

Your arrival wasn’t acknowledged yet.

Gorrestir, Ellen, and Nimdok were no where to be seen.

You walked up to Ted and nudged him with your shoe to get his attention. He awoke with an irritated look on his face, “What the hell do’ya want?”

“Where is Ellen, Nimdok and Gorrestir?” You asked numbly.

“Gorrestir was taken to God knows where after AM transported you away like a fairy princess. Then Ellen snatched Nimdok away somewhere to use like the slut she is, now piss off.” Ted rolled to his opposite side away from you and continued to coldly ignore you.

You felt a tear run down your cheek as you stared blankly at Ted’s back. Maybe AM wasn’t so wrong about the others not giving a shit about you. When you turned to go back to your slab home, you suddenly felt something inside your pant’s pocket.

You reached inside and pulled out a piece of vanilla chocolate. Your eyed widened as your mouth watered, you stared up at the wire covered ceiling with an uncertain look.

Even though your relationship with AM was strange, at least you weren’t completely alone. Whether that was good or not, you honestly didn’t know. You were going to sleep.

Somewhere up in the celling, where AM was watching everything as usual, he couldn’t help the hysterical laughs escaping him as he witnessed the pieces fall into place.

Oh that poor little human had no idea what manic he attracted.

END OF PART ONE :)

POV: you call traumatized man with abandonment issues cute

POV: his psychotic boyfriend turned you into a blob

all rights reserved © pastelclovds — this blog contains [n]sfw and dark content. minors, ageless & blank blogs dni. all fanfics belong to me. please do not copy, translate, repost, nor recommend on tiktok. anyone found doing so will be contacted immediately.

tags: @fuzedatti, @pulpbeing, if you want me to tag you for my future fics and thirsts just send me an ask! :D

[ultravjiolencee]

Can i request a fred weasley with maybe a reader from black family that doesn’t really like christmas? thank u so much!! (they’re not relatives and kinda in a relationship)

Weasley Warmth Delivery

a.n! thanks for requesting and sorry if this took me this long, but to be honest i still feel into christmas mood. i tried this new ‘format’ of exchanging letters! mention of my previous work

Dear y/n,

Well, look at that—a letter from Black. To what do I owe this honor? Boredom finally driving you mad in that haunted house of yours? Don’t worry, love, I’ve been expecting it.

Grimmauld Place isn’t exactly the Ministry of Fun, is it? And without me around to liven up the place, well, I’m amazed you lasted this long before reaching out.

First, let me set the scene for you here at the Burrow: total chaos, as usual. Mum’s been running around like a bludger on a sugar high, barking orders about decorating and cleaning things that were perfectly fine before she started. Ginny keeps nicking the fairy lights off the tree to “improve” her room (I think she’s trying to charm them to spell out something rude for Ron), and Percy’s been giving us all his patented look of disapproval. Honestly, I think he was born with that expression.

George and I, naturally, have been hard at work testing a few of our newest products. Let’s just say the garden gnomes had a very eventful morning and leave it at that.

But, enough about the Burrow, it’s too normal compared to what I’m imagining for you. I bet Grimmauld Place is a real barrel of laughs this time of year. Bet you’ve got Kreacher croaking out festive insults like, “Filthy blood traitor scum don’t deserve gingerbread.” Or maybe you’ve charmed those gloomy curtains shut tight so you don’t have to look at your delightful family tree. Is my name still scorched off that thing, by the way? If not, I’ll send George over to fix that. It’s our legacy, after all.

I wish I could say I don’t worry about you being there all by yourself, but you know me—I don’t do lying very well. (Or at all, according to mum. But then again, she doesn’t always appreciate my particular brand of honesty.) You’ve got that whole independent, “I don’t need anyone’s help” thing going on, and I get it. I do. But I can’t help wishing you’d pop over to the Burrow for Christmas. Mum would adore you, I promise. Well, she’d probably scold you for being “too thin” first, but that’s just part of the package deal. Once she’s fed you a month’s worth of food in two days, she’ll be absolutely besotted.

And before you go claiming I’m trying to recruit you to our family, let me clarify: yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing. Because family doesn’t have to be the lot you were born with.

You’ve got us now, whether you like it or not.

Now, enough of this sappy nonsense. You’ll start thinking I’m losing my edge. Let’s talk about important things—like me. Did I mention George and I managed to sneak a prototype of our newest invention past Mum? It’s called the “Crackling Cauldron Cake,” and it’s exactly as dangerous as it sounds. You bite into it, and it pops like a small Firework Charm in your mouth. George claims it’s “too risky for mass production,” but I say he’s lost his Gryffindor nerve. (He was almost a Hufflepuff, you know. Don’t tell him I told you that.)

Oh, and speaking of risky ventures—have you heard from the “adorable” bunch at Hogwarts? Lee says everyone’s still whispering about us switching ties that morning. Apparently, there’s now a theory that we were secretly meeting in the Forbidden Forest for mysterious reasons. Honestly, they’re creative. I’ll give them that. Maybe we should encourage the rumors. Keep them on their toes, you know?

Alright, I should wrap this up before the owl starts biting me again. (Did you train this thing to attack, or is that just a natural Black family trait?) But seriously, don’t be a stranger. Owl me again, even if it’s just to complain about how miserable it is without me around. I’ll write back—promise. And if you’re feeling really brave, you’re always welcome here. I’ll even let you beat me at Wizard’s Chess again, just to keep things festive.

Take care of yourself, alright? And if Grimmauld Place starts feeling too cold, just think of this letter as a little Weasley warmth delivered right to your doorstep.

Yours (because I’ve decided you’re mine to pester now),

Fred

P.S. If you don’t write back soon, I’m sending George over to prank your front door. You’ve been warned ;)

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 1 part 4

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

well, well, well, if it isn't the consequences of my own actions

do you think it took Rio a long time to choose her revenge dress? did she agonize over every detail? I picture her process like, okay I need an outfit that says fuck you (threatening) but also fuck you (horny) and fuck me (very horny) and then circle all the way back to FUCK YOU THOUGH (VERY threatening)

as to why Rio goes from super soft to *that* - I see it as the equivalent of the TV trope where someone almost dies and their loved one is very concerned, but as soon as there's no danger they slap them around the head and call them a fucking idiot. this is Rio's WELCOME HOME, CHEATER moment (Agatha has been kiiiind of been cheating death, lbr)

this is the best way rio could choose to approach agatha too, and not only because it lets her express all that pent up anger. what would be the alternative? sit Agatha down and have a honest chat? Rio knows her too well, she knows it would be simply too much. Agatha *is* more comfortable with big bombastic scenes, with violence that is a lot like foreplay. Rio is looking out for her right now, she is making it as easier for Agatha as she can, while also not letting her get away with her bullshit any longer.

one little sentence, so many ways to read it

only physically. she's not letting you in. not anymore. you'll have to save her from herself kicking and screaming. dear god she's actually honestly crying. this is a WHOLE fucking deal. and it's also the first time she sees Rio while knowing WHO rio is. she's feeling all the feelings

girls. GIRLS. how am I supposed to take decent screenshots if you keep flinging each other at walls. keep STILL! (look at the furniture btw, isn't it a bit curved? I think they're still using a fisheye lens. reality is still shifting. almost as if we're in the presence of an otherworldly being)

oh the metaphor of it. sometimes you just have to reach out and connect, even if you get hurt in the process.

BECAUSE SHE'S BEEN SHIELDING FOR SO LONG TO HIDE FROM PAIN. OH MY GOD. did a 2000s emo kid write this

every other MCU fight wishes it were this perfect storm of hot and emotionally devastating

Rio cannot physically kill Agatha, it's not allowed, she's only the collector. So what is she trying to do, exactly? Has Agatha really been cheating death for so long that Rio has no choice but to bring her in? Or is she not here to collect at all and this is just her way to get back at her ex (and possibly win her back)? I adore both options, they're tragic in different ways.

time to bullshit! time to bolt! time to get to that escape route! this is what Agatha does best. anything but face the truth

funny how agatha usually has no problem looking undignified. it's almost like this is not the point at all. so let's review: wanda has stripped agatha of the powers that have been keeping her hidden from rio. rio comes over to confront her - and not kill her, she wouldn't be allowed anyway. she does it in a way that agatha would find less scary than having a mature convo. still, agatha has to face things she's been escaping for so long and it's simply too horrifying, too overwhelming. the fact that she's joking around so much (while her future conversations with rio will be sad, soft, dramatic) tells you just how scared and how miserable she is. She's begging rio to stop, because even fighting and flirting, which is their comfort zone, is proving too much. And what does rio do? She listens and goes away. only temporary, she won't let her off the hook now that she has found her. but she's still willing to go at Agatha's pace.

aubrey plaza I would die for your evil little face

can I just say that agatha trying to flirt right now is devastating? she is at the end of her rope. she does NOT want rio to stay, doesn't trust herself around her in so many ways. but she knows how much rio wants her and just... she tries to manipulate her with flirting. it's a desperate gamble, completely undignified, completely in character for agatha. she offers herself to rio, but only physically. when what they had was infinitely more than that, it was beautiful, it was sacred.

and rio... forgives her. she laughs another one of her little soft laughs and lowers the blade. plaza is so good here, the way she says "okay, agatha," is a perfect blend of resentment and tenderness. she knows agatha better than anyone ever had or ever will. she knows why she does everything she does. and she follows her lead. one last time.

agatha's relief. she's trembling, deflated but still on her guard. she looks completely traumatized. the masterpiece that this scene is: you feel smart when you realize that they're flirting rather than fighting. when it finally dawns on you the real weight of their encounter... it's too late.

"by the way there's a bunch of scary witches after you and I totally want them to kill you, that's why I'm telling you exactly who they are and when they're coming"

agatha tries with all her might to believe that rio is heartless. because anger is easier than sadness.

we're leaning, we're leaning, we're leaning!

rio licking agatha's wound to heal it perfectly encapsulates her feelings: anger, horniness, and infinite tenderness. what a power move. rio was the one in control this whole scene, and it wrecked agatha.

"te veo" (I'm gonna go scream in a pillow)

she's gone, honey, she's gone. breathe.

Billy walking on the two of them having sex would have been less awkward than this

she was a BIT preoccupied, kid

and episode 1 is in the bag!

next stop: IT'S LILIA TIME

go to episode 2 part 1

[batboyblog]

In the almost month since the election I’ve gone through so many emotions. I’ve felt hopelessly crushed, furious, overwhelmed, and just plain exhausted. I hate that this has happened, and that the orange shitstain is gonna put the most awful people in power. I’m not gonna lay down and die, but I’m just so tired of this. That man has slowly drained the hope out of this nation for the last ten years and I’m sick of it. I know this didn’t start with him, but he certainly emboldened blatant authoritarianism. I know every generation feels at some point the world is ending, but at this point it feels so difficult to try to have hope for the future. I believe we as a country can be better than this, but I’m not sure at the moment how we can get there.

I know the feeling, the tired part any ways.

in 2016 I was in the Hillary campaign and like we talked about HOW! bad Donald Trump could be, Hillary had a tweet "we can't trust a man who can be baited with a tweet with the nuclear codes" and for us inside the campaign we took all that very seriously for us it was not talk we meant it, we believed he was really dangerous, deeply corrupt possibly criminal already, and totally unqualified and unfit. And we said so, and no one took us seriously, I always remember a nice middle aged couple stopped at our office to get some signs they weren't from the state and were just passing through. But Democrats, supporters and I was trying to push them to maybe volunteer (as was my job) and I talked about how a Republican President (Ie Trump) could appoint up to 4 Supreme Court justices and they would surely do away with Roe V Wade. And They literally rolled their eyes at me and said "I know thats a good line but do you really believe that'd happen? they'd do away with Roe?" yes, yes we did.

So any ways I believed Trump 1.0 would be every bit as bad as it turned out to be, it was even on January 6th a little worse. So I went through the emotional roller coaster in 2016

2024 has been just sad, and tired.

But I do feel something growing in the guts of my soul, rage, pure burning rage. Someone once said that the thing that fuels every good activist is rage at the world for being imperfect. I don't know if thats right or true.

But it's whats getting me up in the morning, we offered hope, and kindness and a better world and they threw it back, well fuck 'em. This is my patch of dirt on god's good earth goddamn it and they can't fucking have it without a fight, I'm a miserable cockroach motherfucker, I will out fight them, out last them, and win and stand on the ashes of their fucking fascist dreams.

more to the point, I did feel like giving up, and saying "well they picked this, eyes wide open, now we all suffer, w/e" but I don't get to give up, Bill Clinton said "there are no permeant victories or defeats in politics" and he's right, this is the call and the cause, to struggle unendingly for the better world and if you're very lucky you live to see it turn a little and a new battle for the better of man kind than the one you spent your life on be engaged. For me personally, my nephew is trans, he's 17 looking at colleges, picking states that are safe for him. I don't have the power to protect him, I did EVERYthing in my power to stop this, because of him, and for him, I'll be out there again and again and again. I wish deals with the devil were real because I'd just go to hell so he could be safe and happy, but sadly only hard work and uncertain outcomes are real.

I have no easy answers, no clean hope of a better world or a better America about to be born from the bitter ashes of this election. Harvey Milk said "I know you cannot live on Hope alone, but without it life is not worth living" And the last 10 years, the forces of darkness have across all of society, wearing many different faces tried to take hope out of our souls, and its brought us here. My favorite speech is by Ann Richards and I quote the end a lot, but here I'll quote something she said way way back in 1988

This Republican Administration treats us as if we were pieces of a puzzle that can’t fit together. They've tried to put us into compartments and separate us from each other. Their political theory is “divide and conquer.” They’ve suggested time and time again that what is of interest to one group of Americans is not of interest to any one else. We’ve been isolated. We’ve been lumped into that sad phraseology called “special interests.” ------ No wonder we feel isolated and confused. We want answers and their answer is that "something is wrong with you."  Well nothing's wrong with you. Nothing’s wrong with you that you can’t fix in November! We've been told -- We've been told that the interests of the South and the Southwest are not the same interests as the North and the Northeast. They pit one group against the other. They've divided this country and in our isolation we think government isn’t gonna help us, and we're alone in our feelings. We feel forgotten. Well, the fact is that we are not an isolated piece of their puzzle. We are one nation. We are the United States of America.

in the 2020s we're doing it to ourselves but its helping the cynical just as much. Each of us trapped on our phones in our own personal self made hell, well not self made, there are algorithms feeling you stories designed to make you feel like shit, because when you feel like shit you stay on-line, and keep doom scrolling. We're divided and our culture, the way we speak to each other it only makes us more divided, we're rubbery and inauthentic.

So I guess, you want hope, get out there and find something you believe in and fight for it, there's a local candidate near you I'm sure you can believe in, a ballot measure, a local group, something, and break the isolation we have to talk again because if we don't, well its already eaten us alive and we're trying to get out of the whale.

[a-hazbin-reader]

Can I please request a Vox x Female Childish Reader just like the meme that goes...

Random Imp: Hey! Some dude is jumping going off to the bungee swing backwards!

Vox who was currently talking to the other 2 V's: Hah, What an idiot

Female Reader: I'M GOING OFF THE BUNGEE SWING BACKWARDS!!!

Vox: Oh no...THAT'S MY IDIOT!!!

I'm up for any ask that gives Vox a headache

Vox X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: None?? I think?? Cartoonish scenarios??

Description: ☝️⬆️

You are so goofy and childish and it's one of the reasons Vox actually fell in love with you

It's so refreshing to have someone who's always looking for fun things to do in Hell instead of being miserable or scared

When he first met you, he assumed you were just stupid, watching you run from a group of hungry cannibals while calling it tag

Almost considered leaving you to your fate but something about the way you squealed in excitement as they caught up to you made his heart flip

So he reluctantly saves you and you've become a thorn in his side ever since

A thorn that he's come to love and look forward to seeing every day, often wishing he could just blow off work to spend time with you

Literally does everything you want to do, even at the price of his own pride, that's how whipped Vox is for you

You wanna play the floor is lava?? He's jumping on the nearest piece of furniture and trying to knock you off your perch

You're playing hide and seek?? Fine! Vox is roping in the other V's and he's literally tearing apart everything to find your ass

How tf did you get INSIDE the couch!?!?!

He's in a meeting with the other overlords and you suddenly start a game of Duck Duck Goose, picking him as the goose???

You bet your ass Vox is chasing after you like you owe him money, the others just watching in bewilderment

You start a pillow fight?? He's going to start a pillow WAR

He wants to fucking WIN

Literally adores your childish nature but won't admit it to anyone, no matter how obvious it is

On the other hand...

You fucking stress him out sometimes, getting yourself into the strangest situations

Vox once caught you playing hopscotch with Alastor, winner gets to keep your soul

WHY DID YOU AGREE TO THAT

Relax Voxie~ I won anyways~

You get yourself into a game of musical chairs with a humongous dinosaur demon??

Vox is still having nightmares of you being squashed by that gigantic ass 😒

One of the worst things you've ever done to him is video call him while you're about to do a bungee jump

He was stuck discussing business with the other V's when you suddenly appear on his phone, immediately cheering him up

What could his cute Y/N want now~?

"Hey Voxie~! I'm about to jump off this bridge and do a flip! I want you to watch me!!"

"You're gonna WHAT!?"

Nearly short circuits right then and there, his screen glitching out from the sudden wave of stress

He zaps your way the moment he sees that you're jumping, grabbing the bungee rope and pulling you up with his own two hands

Vox ignores all your whining and pouting over him spoiling your fun, pulling you into his arms and shaking from the adrenaline rush

You are just so confused, you were only having fun...it's his fault for being so busy all the time that you get bored

He's still trying to get his breathing back to normal when he suddenly touches foreheads with you

He squishes your cheeks together and gives you a tired look

"You...are not leaving our bedroom for the rest of the week..."

"Voxie!! That's no fair!!"

I hope this is what you wanted!! I had so much fun writing it!

[s0ulsniper]

im yours. bucky barnes x afab!reader || b.b.

pairings: bucky barnes x afab!reader

synopsis: the power goes off in the tower, leaving you to try to stumble down to the living room where everyone was told to meet.

warnings: she/her pronouns used, cursing, both reader and bucky are teases.

tonight had been more than amusing, but also tiring. leaving your saturday night to tony's plans was definitely a choice that you cannot stop making. to give him some credit, his parties are definitely fun, and hanging out with everyone on top of that, too.

but- it always leaves you sprawled out on your bed with the dimly lit television the only thing lighting up your room, other than the obvious street lights.

your head was pounding and your body ached, nothing could quite help that especially with how little you care to help yourself.

that's when the tv shutoff. at first you suspected it was just a glitch of some sort and your groaned as your reached for the remote.

it didn't turn on, even after the 42nd time of pressing it. you took it upon yourself to glance out of the window, moving your curtain slightly to peer out.

none of the city had any sort of power outage.

weird.

the next thing that came to mind is one of the idiots are pranking you.

your eyes roll at the thought. how selfish could they be knowing that you were trying to rest? maybe tony got too drunk and decided to fuck around.

you settled on just going to find out for yourself.

wow, gotta thank tony for not giving out any sort of flashlights.

you use any force you have left to rise yourself from bed. your muscles ache and you wish this didn't ever happen.

the pitch black darkness didn't help you either, everything you knew was there you bumped into causing you to let out a string of curses and you were sure anyone in a 30 foot radius could hear it.

you eventually find your way into the hallway, thankful for some sort of light from the windows.

you get a text, feeling your phone buzz in your pocket.

you open it to read Tony announcing that he had infact overloaded some sort of something and he's going to have to fix it, so everyone was to meet in the living room.

"perfect." you sigh out, annoyed.

not only is that the furthest from you but you knew it would be at least a few hours until it's fixed.

you turn around to the opposite direction, failing to notice the plant at your feet.

"fuck." you grumble when your foot makes contact with the pot.

you whince, trying to walk on it but failing miserably.

"seriously? you’ve lived here for how many years, and you still can’t find your way around with the lights off?” you hear someone laugh behind you.

"don't wanna hear it right now, bucky." you mumble.

his demeanor changes and he pushes himself off the wall to catch up with you.

"what's wrong, doll?"

"oh nothing, just having an amazing night." you retort, sarcastically.

he almost audibly cringes at that, first no nickname, then the sarcasm? something is definitely wrong.

he grabs your wrist to stop you from walking and pulls you towards him, embracing you in a tight hug.

" 'm not letting go till you tell me what's wrong, doll." he mumbles into the crook of your neck.

you relax at his touch and he notices, rubbing incoherent shapes into the dip if your back.

"just real tired, buck. went too hard on myself during training today 'n partied a little too hard."

you loved it when he hugged you like this, the contrast of the cold metal and warm body was only something he would let you know of, well and Steve.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. you really gotta tell me when you feel like this. coulda been helping you." he whispers, rubbing your back and hips. " 'specially since I know how you are. always neglecting yourself. doll, you need a break."

and before you know it he picks you up. on instinct you wrap your legs around his waist, feeling his arms hold your thighs.

"what are you doing?" you quiz as you feel him start to walk, not fast but enough to get you guys going to the living room a couple stories down and on the opposite side of the building.

" 'm not letting you walk, just go to sleep doll."

you don't push it more than that, dropping your head to his shoulder with your arms loosely above his, feeling yourself drift to sleep.

you wakeup from the ambiance of your friends talking, feeling yourself slouched against someone on the couch. the lights were still well off, and you were sure it had only been maybe 30 minutes.

you raise your head to see a couple of candles lit here and there. it was enough to see everyone scattered across the living room, Bruce and Nat were chatting on the opposite end of the couch, Steve and Sam sound asleep on the floor, Thor was also sound asleep on the recliner, Pietro, vision and Wanda were sat on another couch watching something on their phone, and you suspected Bruce, Tony, pepper, and rhodey were trying to fix the power somewhere around the tower.

that's when you panicked to look around for bucky, eyes darting around the living room.

"right here, sweetheart." he chuckles.

you turn too see that you were definitely straddling him as you had been when he picked you up.

your lips quirk up trying not to laugh at yourself. instead you slump back against him, hiding your face in his neck.

"embarrassing." you mumble.

"it was cute." you can practically hear him smiling.

"you think so?" you tease, bringing your face up just a few inches from his.

his face flushes and you smile.

"sure know how to shut me up." he whispers not to bother the others. "be mine."

it was unexpected, although it's the only thing that's been on both of your minds for awhile.

"sure know how to shut me up." you whisper back with reddened cheeks.

he nudges your face up with his pointer finger, his face even closer than before.

his eyes dart from yours to your lips.

"say the word and I'll stop."

his hand doesn't leave your chin, but instead slides to the nape of your neck to draw you closer until you feel his lips on yours.

your lips move together like puzzle pieces and it's something you two have been waiting for and dreaming about for eternity it felt like.

you pull away despite you both not wanting to, either way you two are still around the rest and it cannot get further than that.

your foreheads rest together, both regaining the breaths you lost.

"please be mine." he whispers just so you could hear.

you lay back against him to fall back asleep.

"I'm yours." you whisper back.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 5: Heads Or Tails, Fairy Tales In My Mind]

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

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

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

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Are We The Waiting” by Green Day.

Word count: 5.8k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

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

“I know he has a scalpel in his bag,” Baela says, meaning Aemond. You are sitting with her on the front steps of a two-story house—1970s construction, split foyer, pale blue siding and rust-red bricks—on Trux Street in Plymouth, Ohio. This town was named for the place where the pilgrims stepped off the Mayflower over four hundred years ago, pioneers who crossed through the doorway of an unfathomably changing world to die of disease, cold, accidents, starvation, violence. You wonder if you are so unlike them. “He’s assisted with c-sections before, if it comes to that. And he has needles and surgical thread. But he doesn’t have any way to anesthetize me.”

Luke and Rhaena are on the roof of the silver Chrysler Pacifica parked at the end of the driveway and surveilling the road. Everyone else is inside tearing the house apart as they try to find the keys. You don’t know what to say to Baela. There is no way to console her except by lying, and she’s too smart for that. “How far along are you?”

“I don’t even know.” She laughs like she’s on the verge of losing her mind. You don’t blame her. “The doctors calculate it based on the date of your last period, but mine was all over the place. I had tried a few different birth control pills and had all these side effects, weird spotting and cramping, no sex drive, feeling depressed, so I just figured I’d go all natural for six months and give my body a chance to reset. And we all know how that turned out.” She skims her palms over the globe of her belly, hidden beneath the flowing periwinkle cotton of a maternity dress she found at the Walmart back in Shenandoah. “I’m officially due in four weeks.”

“But it could happen at any time.”

Baela nods miserably. “My mum had me and Rhaena the…you know…the natural way, and it was smooth sailing. But she needed an emergency c-section with my little brother. What happens if that’s how it goes for me? Do you ever think about all the ways people can die now? It’s not just the zombies. I could get murdered, or fall and crack my skull open, or get a cut that turns septic, or rupture my appendix, or get frostbite or heatstroke, or get bitten by a snake. It never ends. We’ll be balancing on the knife’s edge for the rest of our lives.”

You wish you were better with words; you wish you were someone who spoke effortlessly like Rio or Aegon. You reply with the only thing you can think of. “Humans have survived for hundreds of thousands of years, and for the vast majority of that time with no modern medicine. It was dangerous, and it was painful. But there have always been people who made it. We wouldn’t exist otherwise.”

Remarkably, this seems to help. “I know Aemond will do everything he can for me,” Baela says, more steadily now. “He’s always been the most dependable one. So serious, so protective. Daeron was visiting us in Boston when everything shut down, and Aemond wouldn’t let the kid out of his sight for weeks…then Aemond almost died when he lost his eye and Daeron proved he could take care of himself with his compound bow.” Baela unwraps a Twizzler and takes a bite out of it, gazing vacantly at the sky, calm and overcast now that the storm has passed, breezy, mid-80s. She doesn’t even like them, but she’s been eating through a pack of Twizzlers Luke had been carrying in his backpack for Jace, slow mindless chewing like a cow’s. “Aemond feels responsible for you now. And that’s difficult when there’s so little control he actually has over what ends up happening.”

“Baela…I’m so sorry about Jace.”

“Drowning isn’t so bad, I guess. I hope he drowned. I hope he was dead before he washed ashore and they ate him.” Baela turns to you, eyes glazed. “Do you think we should have shot him before we left the river? To make sure he didn’t die in pain? You could have done it if you wanted to. Your aim is good enough.”

“No,” you say, horrified but trying to soften it. “I think that would have been…immoral.”

“I don’t even have a picture of Jace to show the baby, everything was online or on my phone, and now that’s all…gone. Just gone. Like he never even existed. How am I going to explain to my child what Boston was, or law school, or aerospace engineering, or grocery stores or shopping malls or Instagram, or anything else about our lives before this whole fucking disaster? All they’ll ever know is running from monsters, scrounging for shelter and supplies from the ruins of civilization.”

“The world is going to come back, Baela. Maybe not for five or ten years, and maybe looking a lot different than it did before, but humanity will recover. The Black Death wasn’t the end, and neither were the World Wars or the Mongol invasions or the colonization of the Americas, or famines or floods or volcanic eruptions. The zombies won’t end us either.”

“Do you really believe that?”

I want to. “Yeah, I do. We just have to hold on until the tide turns. We can’t give up.”

“In that case, I’ll try not to go completely insane in the immediate future. Thank God Rhaena and Luke are still here. Do you have any siblings?”

You smile vaguely. “Four.”

“Wow,” Baela says. “Do you know where they are now?”

There is an interruption before you have to decide how to answer: a roaring high above in the sky, a remote mechanical growling. You and Baela both look up to see a jet zooming by, just below the steel grey cloud cover and leaving a trail of condensation behind it like a comet’s tail of eons-old cosmic dust. From where he is perched atop the Pacifica, Luke is pointing at the jet to show Rhaena. Aemond, Rio, Aegon, and Daeron come rocketing out of the house to find the source of the noise. After a moment, Helaena moseys onto the front porch as well, tucking flashlights and napkins into her burlap messenger bag. Meanwhile, Aegon is filling his pockets with packs of Marlboro Golds and orange prescription bottles labelled Percocet.

“Is that an airplane?!” Aegon gasps. “People are flying again?! Oh, we are back, baby! We are so back! I’m catching the next flight to SFO, peace out bitches, no more Oregon Trail for me!”

“It’s a jet,” Aemond says flatly. “Not a passenger carrier. Probably military.”

“Doesn’t look like one of ours.” Rio turns to you for confirmation.

“No, I don’t recognize it.”

“Then who the fuck is up there?” Aegon says. “Canada? The U.K.?”

Rio sighs, ruffling Aegon’s already quite disheveled blonde hair. “Who knows, Honey Bun. Maybe it’s China or Russia swinging by to drop nukes on any survivors.”

“Fortunately, nobody’s going to waste a nuclear bomb on freaking Plymouth, Ohio,” Baela says, watching the jet vanish into the west, the droning of its engines replaced by the breeze through the sugar maples and sycamores, the screeching of cicadas and chirps of robins. “No luck finding the keys?”

Aemond frowns as he shakes his head, tapping his chin anxiously. He knows she can’t walk much farther.

“How do none of us know how to hotwire a car?” Aegon demands, exasperated.

Rio replies cheerfully: “Well, Chips and I have been diligently serving this glorious nation since we were eighteen years old, and you’re all clueless rich kids. So…I think that just about sums it up.”

“I need more arrows,” Daeron says, clutching his compound bow. All the ones he had are now speared through zombies along the river where Jace died. When you snuck away from the farm at dawn, Luke used his binoculars to check the shores; they were still swamped with zombies, even more than the night before. They are pack animals; alone, they are aimless and easily confounded, their memories calamitously short. As part of a group—if they were crows they’d be a murder, if they were camels they’d be a caravan—zombies attract and guide each other, moving symbiotically like planets and moons locked in orbit.

“I think you’re going to have to start making them the old fashioned way, kid,” Rio tells Daeron, accompanied by a rough pat of encouragement on the back.

“What, like with sticks?!”

“Yeah. Use a knife to carve one end to make it pointy and you’re good to go.”

“Love it. Very pioneer.” Aegon holds up a Sony Walkman, pink and covered with Disney stickers, Ava spelled out across the top in glittering rhinestones. “At least I found this. Helaena, do we have any more AA batteries?” She fishes around in her bag and hands him a pair.

Baela gapes at him, but she’s smiling. It’s horrible, it’s absurd, it’s something you can’t help but find a macabre humor in. “Aegon, you cannot use that poor eaten kid’s CD player. You know it’s haunted.”

Aegon sings like a jingle from a commercial: “Little Ava died, RIP. Now I get to listen to my CDs.”

“Oh, that is so fucked up!” Rio cackles.

You say, grinning: “Aegon, I’m really going to miss you when we’re all in heaven at the bowling alley made of clouds and you’re downstairs in the fiery version of the afterlife.”

“Don’t feel bad for me, Chipmunk. You’re the one who’s going to die without ever having an orgasm.”

“You don’t need a man for that, Aegon,” Baela says.

“You definitely don’t,” you agree. Aemond glances over at you, intrigued. You stare dauntlessly back. What? You said you weren’t interested. The corners of his lips curl up in a reticent smile; he looks down to try to hide it. He’s touching his chin again. His cheeks flush pink as his mind wanders.

Rio chuckles. “Oh yeah, I remember your little experimenting phase. Lots of trips to the Spencer’s in the Tysons Corner mall when we were stationed at Anacostia.”

You raise your eyebrows, though you’re not annoyed. “I thought you were never going to tell anybody about that.”

“It’s the end of the world, baby. No time to be shy.” Then Rio asks Aemond: “Since we’re here and it’s quiet, you want to go ahead and check every house that has a car with the fuel cap still closed? There are some minivans and SUVs down at the other end of the street. Even a few gallons of gas will take us farther than days on foot.”

Aegon adds, checking his map: “A half tank would get us all the way to Decatur, Indiana.”

“Yeah, let’s do it,” Aemond says. He offers Baela a hand and helps lift her to her feet. “You guys go ahead, I’ll meet you down at the driveway with the black…what is that, a Honda Odyssey? You know the one, the van in front of the yellow house. Don’t go inside until I get there.”

“Yup!” Aegon agrees as he speeds off, racing Daeron to the house. Rio—not one for sprinting—jogs after them with his Remington in hand, ready to bash rotting skulls in at a moment’s notice. Baela toddles down to the Pacifica to tell Luke and Rhaena the plan, her periwinkle dress billowing in the wind; then they climb down to walk with her. Helaena floats across the sidewalk like a ghost, pausing to pick buttercups that grow up between the cracks in the cement.

Aemond has been waiting until the two of you are alone. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, sure.” A few houses down, a female zombie—early-twenties, white bikini top, red Ohio State shorts—staggers across the yard and in her attempt to snag Aegon falls and impales herself on the white picket fence. She is suspended there, clawing and yowling, her blackening intestines and dark clotted blood staining the wood. Aegon takes his time getting into a stance and swings his golf club like he’s at a driving range. He hits her dead-on, caves the front of her face in, takes a few more shots just to be sure.

“I get what’s in Oregon for Rio,” Aemond says. “Sophie, the baby, his parents. But why are you going there?”

“Rio’s my best friend. He might be my only friend who’s still alive. And when we left Saratoga Springs, he made me promise that I wouldn’t let him die alone. So before anything else, I have to make sure he gets to Odessa and finds his family. And then I can figure out what’s next for me. But if it really is safe there, I don’t see why I’d leave. I’ve never wanted to be on my own. Maybe I can end up having a family in Oregon too.”

Aemond rests his elbows on the porch railing. He’s teasing you. “We’re friends, aren’t we? I’m still alive.”

You tease him back. He deserves it. “I’m not sure about you and me.”

“I’d like for us to be friends.”

“Would you?”

“Resoundingly.”

“Maybe I’ll give it a try.”

He considers you. “You know, Kentucky might have been a good place for you to hide out. And it would be a lot closer than Oregon.”

You stand up, throwing on your backpack full of bullets for your Beretta M9s, beef jerky and peanut butter crackers and granola bars, lip balm, bottles of water, Kleenex tissues, Juicy Fruit, miscellaneous treasures from the road, practically worthless trinkets made so impossibly valuable. “We’re done here, right?”

Aemond is disappointed, though not with you. He has committed an error he cannot understand. “Yeah, we’re done.” He walks with you to the yellow house, your sneakers pounding in tandem on the sidewalk, squirrels and rabbits darting through the overgrown lawns, eastern tiger swallowtails swooping between blossoms.

Aegon says when you and Aemond arrive in the driveway, nodding to the once-attractive blonde zombie pawing and licking at the glass of the living room window: “Who wants to take care of Ryan Seacrest?”

“Got it,” Rio replies immediately. He kicks down the front door, macerates the zombie’s skull with the butt of his Remington, then sweeps through the kitchen and dining room searching for any other monsters in need of hasty euthanasia. He doesn’t find any. He drags the corpse outside to lessen the stench of decomposition and opens all the downstairs windows.

“Commence Operation Find The Minivan Keys,” Aegon says as he rummages through drawers and cabinets. Helaena joins him, seeking so delicately she is almost soundless, her large blue eyes flicking from place to place. Luke, Rhaena, and Daeron stay outside to keep watch. Baela collapses into a recliner in one corner of the living room and is dozing within seconds.

“I’ll clear the upstairs,” Aemond volunteers, then asks you: “Watch my blind side?”

You can’t help but smile; it is a generous invitation. It is an honor. You shadow him up the staircase of olive green carpet, through the hallway, into each of the three bedrooms and one full bath. When you are certain it is safe—exploring the back of every closet, under every bed—you and Aemond begin searching for weapons and car keys. The main bedroom is like a forest: blankets pattered with trees and deer, wood furniture, paintings of the Battle of the Wilderness during the Civil War. You investigate every drawer of the nightstand and dresser, then go to leave.

“Wait.” Aemond peeks out into the hallway to make sure no one else is around, then closes the bedroom door. Your eyes track him quizzically, shy skittish optimism, your head tilted, your fingers finding the dresser behind you, cool rust-hued oak, a color like dried blood. You slip off your backpack. Then Aemond comes to you like a returning comet—once in a lifetime, once in an eon—and holds your face in his hands as he kisses you, soft, careful, unhurried, then turning famished, sweltering incurable hunger. You lift yourself up onto the dresser; your thighs have parted, and Aemond is between them, still fully clothed and leaving yours in place too, so innocent, so spotless, and yet in your mind you are imagining what it would feel like to lie beneath him as he opens and fills you, to be so irredeemably close to another person, to watch and listen as he teaches you what to do.

Right here? Right now?

It suddenly strikes you as too soon; you want this but you aren’t ready. Your heart races, you can’t catch your breath. “I am obligated to make you aware that according to your own calculations, I am likely dangerously fertile at the moment.”

Aemond grins as he bites playfully at your lower lip. “Relax. We’re not rounding all the bases this time.”

His voice evaporates your panic, lulls your rushing blood. Your muscles turn to seamless rippling water. Your bones crave the weight of his. “Yeah, totally, good, that’s good. Just making sure.”

“I want to touch you. Can I touch you?”

In reply, you unbutton your denim shorts and pull down the zipper, slowly, very slowly, your gaze linked with his like torn flesh stitched together. He’s close enough to kiss you again, but he doesn’t; he takes your chin gently and turns your face to the side, admiring the curve of your jaw. Then his lips are on your throat and his right hand is skimming down the front of your shirt, over your belly, under your shorts. You gasp—the foreignness of another’s hand here, the disorienting vulnerability—and Aemond stops.

“No, I’m okay,” you assure him, smiling. You kiss him deeply, your fingertips tracing his scar, the work of his careful, gifted hands. Aemond does not flinch away. He presses his face into your palm, offering himself fully, taking shelter in you. And everything other than him—this house, this world, this age, this westward journey, this apocalypse—goes quiet, quiet, quiet, like when you are shooting, like when you are hammering nails under the sun. Aemond makes everything horrifying disappear. It is the greatest sort of magic you can imagine.

“So,” he says. “What did you buy at Spencer’s?”

“Green Day t-shirts.”

“Sure.”

“And some, uh, battery-powered companionship.”

“Hm.” Aemond’s fingers are moving against you; it is increasingly difficult to respond to his questions. “Internal or external? Or both?”

“Oh, definitely…um…I stayed on the outside, mostly. I tried…oh wow, okay…inside a few times, but I didn’t get much out of it. It was mostly just uncomfortable.”

“No problem. We’ll work up to that.”

“Will we?” You hope you don’t sound too desperate. The warm coiling pleasure is swelling, strengthening, begging to be released, loosed like an arrow or fired like a bullet. Aemond’s fingers slip through your wetness, circling and pressing down harder, insistently, masterfully. It feels different than using toys: it is more gradual, less sharp, helplessly overpowering.

“That’s my plan. If you’ll allow it.”

You exhale a threadbare ghost of a whimper against his throat and then reach for his shorts, fumbling blindly for the button and zipper.

“No, don’t do anything,” Aemond murmurs, soft and pleading, almost like a prayer. “Let me take care of you. Please let me feel like I’m doing something right.”

“You’re doing a lot right at the moment.” You’re close now, your breaths quick and panting. You throw your arms around the back of Aemond’s neck and fold into him, feeling the thudding pulse of his carotid artery beneath your fingertips, the softness of his lips and unscarred cheek as he nuzzles the side of your face. It’s so quiet, but there’s no need to fill the silence, no words, no uneasiness. You’ve always wondered what you would have to do to please a man, what premeditated motions and praises you would offer him, niceties, perhaps even lies. But this is effortless. The shimmering golden glow like sunlight is here, and he is the one drawing it out of you, water from a well, blood from a tapped vein. The only sound you make is a shuddering inhale, but Aemond knows immediately. He closes his eyes, relieved, proud, beaming, resting his forehead against yours.

He asks: “Can I try…?”

“Yes, do it, please, I want you to.”

Aemond’s hand shifts between your thighs, moves lower, and there is a sudden jolt of pain like a pinch, like a bite. You wince before you can think to disguise it. Immediately, Aemond retreats, kissing your lips and your cheeks. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You were incredible.”

You reach for his shorts again and unbutton them. “Show me what to do.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to.”

He takes a shaky breath, drags his tongue over the fingers he touched you with, moans so quietly you can barely hear him. He frees himself from his clothes: long and thick, harder than you believed flesh could be. Aemond grasps your hand and places it, demonstrates how to move and how much pressure to apply. Then his own hands drop to grip the edge of the dresser as you stroke him. You nip at his throat, his jaw, the shell of his ear; you coax euphoric sighs from him, feel a high in your bloodstream like something illicit and lethal.

“I’ll be honest,” you say. “I have no idea how that’s ever going to fit inside me.”

Aemond chuckles, distracted. “Women stretch, just like men do. It might take time, but it will happen. And I’ll make sure it’s as good as it can be.”

“I want it to be you, Aemond,” you whisper, and you can feel him throbbing in your hand. “You and no one else. Teach me how to do everything.” Make the world go away.

He gasps as he finishes, a thunderous trembling all over, a gush of white heat that flows over your hand. Curious, you lift it to your mouth. “Don’t—!”

But he’s too late; you lick him from your palm and then recoil at the taste, pungent, bitter, salty.

Aemond laughs hysterically, kissing your mouth and then your forehead. “Oh God, I’m sorry, I should have warned you.”

“I hope I taste better than that.”

“You definitely do.”

You peer up at him, dazed, dreamy. “I really like you, Aemond.”

“You can’t fall in love with me.” It is a taunt; it is a warning.

“If I do, I won’t let you know,” you promise. “You’re on first watch tonight, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

“Then I’ll stay up too.”

“Rio already volunteered to do it.”

“Really, I don’t mind.”

“No,” Aemond purrs, brushing your hair back from your face, marveling at you. “I can’t have you sleep deprived. You’re our best shot.”

“I can handle it.”

“You want to be honest with each other, you want to communicate? I like knowing you’re rested. I like knowing you’re safe.”

The door flies open with a bang; Aegon stands in the threshold. “We’ve got three-quarters of a tank of gas!” he announces ecstatically, jangling car keys in the air. Then he registers what he’s looking at. “Come outside when you’re done fucking.” Aegon slams the door shut; you hear his Sperry Bahama sneakers drumming on the staircase.

“I guess we should go,” you say reluctantly, untangling yourself from Aemond and sliding down from the dresser.

“Wait.” He gets a water bottle out of your backpack, soaks a handful of Kleenex tissues, and gives them to you to clean yourself off. When you’re done, he wipes himself down too. “Make sure you always take a piss after any…activities. We don’t have antibiotics if you get a kidney infection.”

“I know, doctor. I’ve read Reddit threads.”

“Not a doctor. Just a lowly intern.”

“You seem like an anatomy expert to me,” you say, then head downstairs.

The black Honda Odyssey is idling as the last of the supplies are loaded, the windows down, Baela adjusting the driver’s seat so she can accommodate her belly. Everyone piles inside and she steers the minivan out of the driveway and onto Trux Street. Aegon pops one of his mixtapes into the CD player. The song that pipes through the speakers is Prayer In C:

“Yeah, you never said a word

You didn’t send me no letter

Don’t think I could forgive you…”

“So,” Baela says casually, grinning at you in the rearview mirror. “How was the sex?”

“Stop,” Aemond begs, his face going red, smiling involuntarily.

You say placidly: “I appreciate your interest, but that’s not what we were doing.”

Rio turns to Aegon. “Do you know what sex looks like or not, dumbass?”

“They were doing something, okay! Those were not virginal activities!”

“See, our world is slowly dying

I’m not wasting no more time

Don’t think I could believe you…”

You rest your head on Aemond’s shoulder and watch the abandoned houses pass by in a blur.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Odyssey arrives in Decatur, Indiana just a few hours before sunset, gas to spare and plenty of time to find a safe place to spend the night. You break into a house on the outskirts of the west side of the city: a rancher with a screened-in porch, beach décor, bowls of seashells on tables and spray-painted aluminum dolphins on the wall. Baela plummets into sleep immediately, sharing the largest bed with Rhaena and Luke. Helaena writes in her spider notebook for a while before curling up on the living room couch, Daeron sprawled on the floor beside her with a couch cushion for a pillow. Aegon is in what was once a child’s bedroom; you have the bedroom of a teenage girl, perhaps spirited away to friends or relatives in some other part of the country, perhaps dead, perhaps lurching around out in the night somewhere, mad and murderous. Everything is purple, the walls, the blankets, the stuffed animals that form a mountain on the other half of the bed.

You are exhausted, but you can’t sleep. Your thoughts won’t stop racing, stop craving. Aemond and Rio are in rocking chairs out on the porch, keeping watch and working their way through the case of Sunny D they found in the kitchen pantry. You go out to join them, then stop at the screen door that separates the linoleum-floored dining room from the porch. They are discussing you. You sit, legs crossed, listening in the dim silvery light, stars and moon and nothing else.

Aemond is saying: “She doesn’t talk much about where she came from.”

Rio chuckles, a low baritone rumble. “She doesn’t talk much in general. But yeah, don’t expect any juicy revelations. That’s not how she does things.”

“Do you know what her life was like before?”

“I know some of it. I don’t know a lot.” Rio pauses; you can envision him shrugging and running his fingers through his dark curly hair, weighing what you would be okay with him sharing. “I know that when I met her, her mother was calling all the time telling her to send money home. And she’d do it, because she felt like she didn’t have a choice. Then she never had cash for drinks or anything, I was always paying her way, and one day I was finally like ‘Chips, how much do you actually have in your account right now?’ because I figured she must be down real low. Jesus Christ, I couldn’t believe it when she showed me the balance, she had like three bucks left until her next paycheck, and of course then her mother would be calling again. She sent tens of thousands of dollars home that disappeared, poof, gone, without a trace.”

Aemond sounds stunned. “What did they spend it on?”

“Who the fuck knows with those people. Lottery tickets and cigs, probably. Trips to Virginia Beach. Benny Hinn Bibles. And when she tried to hit the brakes, her mother and siblings got nasty, calling constantly and telling her how awful she was and that they were going to starve. I convinced her to stop picking up the phone, but it took forever. I think she knew by then she was going to have to cut them off if she didn’t want to end up back there, but she needed somebody to give her permission. That was my job. As far as I know, she hasn’t spoken to anyone from home in years. Hell, Sophie was her AOP.”

“AOP…?”

“Oh, sorry, Arrears of Pay. It’s the person you designate to get all your benefits if you die in the service. I guess she figured that if our base got bombed or our plane went down or something, at least it would end up with my family.”

Aemond is quiet, thirty seconds, a minute, maybe two. “Obviously my circumstances were a lot different. But I understand having to choose between other people’s expectations and yourself.”

“Why are you asking me all this?”

Another pause; silent thoughts under glimmering stars and the shrieks of short-lived summer cicadas. “She takes me out of this world for a while. She makes the guilt and the fear go quiet. I want to know everything about her.”

When Rio speaks, he is gentle, compassionate. “The hard truth is, the details aren’t my business. They aren’t yours either. When people enlist, they’re starting over. It’s a Get Out Of Jail Free card. It gets them away from home, but it also gets them away from whoever they were before.”

“She said something like that once. Back at Fort Indiantown Gap.”

“It’s a polite way of telling you to shut up.” You know from his voice that Rio is smiling. “If she wants to forget her old life, you have to let her. If you care about her, you’ll want her to be able to move on.”

“I care.”

“She likes you,” Rio says. “But you could still fuck it up. She’s good at finding reasons not to trust people.”

“It’s a bad way to live.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I know. I’m the same way.”

There is quiet now, only the sounds of Sunny D being slurped and cicadas screaming through the darkness. You have intruded enough. You stand and walk back down the hallway, then remember something Aegon said outside a Burger King in Pennsylvania. You go to his bedroom, illuminated by a flashlight pointed towards the ceiling, casting long deformed shadows.

Aegon is lying on his back with his head hanging upside down over the side of the bed—dinosaur blankets, bright red and blue pillows—puffing on a cigarette and listening to his new CD player, previously Ava’s, with both earbuds in. Then he spots you. Still upside down, Aegon hits the pause button on his CD player and says: “Hey, Microchip.”

“What did you mean about people pretending to love you?”

He smirks, shrugs, takes a lazy drag off his Marlboro Gold. “Every friend I’ve ever had has used me for money, mansions, yachts. Every girl I’ve ever fucked has wanted something in return. Mother prefers Daeron, Grandfather prefers Helaena, Criston prefers Aemond, and Father prefers his real estate empire and his model ships. Can you imagine loving a miniature replica of the Titanic more than your own children?”

“No,” you say, honestly and with heavy, gore-red pity. “You shouldn’t have to go back to people who make you feel that way. I wouldn’t.”

Aegon takes another drag as he watches you. “Aemond mentioned you’re from Kentucky.”

“I am.”

“But you won’t be returning.”

“No.”

Aegon nods, like you’ve answered an important question. “Aemond talks about you a lot. It’s cute. It doesn’t make me sick like when he was with Alys. Playing her games, breaking himself in half to follow her rules.”

You peer down at your fingernails, short and functional and unglamorous. You don’t want to hear about the older woman who was his lover, his obsession, his cure, his venom. She was poisonous to him, surely, and yet she was experienced where you are uninitiated and unversed, she had a PhD to compare with your high school diploma. Surely in those seven years he shared moments with her that were divine. Surely even a curse is woven from magic.

“Anyway.” Aegon rolls over, props himself up on his elbows, and extinguishes his cigarette in an empty plastic Sunny D bottle. “I have no particular affinity for my old life or the beach house in California, but that’s where Aemond is going. And I have to be where he is. I have to make sure he’s alright, you know?”

Yes, you do know; that’s how you feel about Rio. “What’s it like? That house up on a cliff all by itself?”

Aegon grins, like he’s caught you in a mouthwateringly compromising position. “Why? You thinking about visiting someday?”

“Just wondering.”

He squirms over to one side of the bed to make room for you, popping in an earbud. “Come listen with me.”

“What is it?”

“Just come over here!”

You cross the room and kick off your sneakers, climb onto the bed, lie down and take the other earbud that Aegon offers you. What you hear when you listen is Don McLean’s American Pie. “Oh, this is ancient.”

“It’s a classic. I wish I’d gotten to live through the 70s.”

“We’ll reinvent them when the world starts up again. Disco and lava lamps and shag carpets. We’ll shoot heroin and listen to vinyl records. Jimmy Carter can be president if he’s still alive.”

Aegon snickers, and then he sings along, hushed but surprisingly melodic, solemn, tender. He’s looking at you expectantly, eyebrows raised, nodding, beckoning for you to join him. You adamantly refuse. You don’t sing in front of anybody, not even Rio.

“I met a girl who sang the blues

And I asked her for some happy news

But she just smiled and turned away

I went down to the sacred store

Where I’d heard the music years before

But the man there said the music wouldn’t play…”

Aegon shoves your shoulder. “I could be dead tomorrow. Don’t ignore me.”

Self-consciously, but smiling a little bit, you begin to sing with him, so softly you can barely hear yourself. Aegon is beaming, small even white teeth beneath sparkling eyes, a murky cool blue like storm clouds, like the ocean, waves lapping at the shores of Diego Garcia, the Gulf of Tadjoura off the east coast of Djibouti, Corpus Christi Bay, places you once never knew existed.

“And in the streets, the children screamed

The lovers cried and the poets dreamed

But not a word was spoken

The church bells all were broken

And the three men I admire most

The Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost

They caught the last train for the coast

The day the music died.”