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#Sport Glide Garage
leclucklerc · 6 months
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Hard Carry CL16 - 00.
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Pairing: Charles Leclerc x driver!reader
Summary: When you're talking about one of the greats in Formula One, y/n is up there.
Word Count: 1.3K
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Drive to Survive, Season 1 Episode 3
It's all about Porsche
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"There's just something about Porsche that attracts you."
The scene cuts into Porsche's jet black F1 car zooming pass the screen in a top speed. The sound of the loud roar from the engine, as well as the checkered flag that was being waved as the car glide through the finish line is a sight to behold.
"Their team is new in Formula one," said Will Buxton as he leaned back on his seat. The pitch black backdrop is almost poetic considering which team they're discussing right now. "They debuted in 2012, and never looked back ever since."
At this, the scene cuts into a compilation of Formula one announcer announcing many of Porsche's achievements. From the constructor championships, to the world driver championships. An intimidating music can be heard playing in the background before it switches back into the interviewer room. Though, this time, it's not Will Buxton who sat there.
A man with greying hair and pitch black shirt could be seen. There's a small logo of Porsche on his breast pocket. Besides that, the shirt is void from any decoration. Just like how the man expression is void from any emotions.
"Hello," started the man, eyes zeroing straight towards the camera. "I'm Herman Muller, the team principal for the Porsche Royale Formula 1 team."
The scene changed into Porsche's Formula One garage. The pitch black theme with golden accent could be seen everywhere as the mechanics and engineers huddled along the car that they had created for the past year.
"We are a German based team," said Herman as many compilations appeared on the scene. Many of those, are the team celebrating their wins. "A fairly new player in the game, but a tough one, certainly." His English is loaded with German accent, though it only made him seems a bit intimidating.
Constructor championship.
Driver championship.
Many trophies could be seen lining the wall of their factory back in Leipzig. Pictures of their Formula One cars too could be seen littered around the wall.
"When Porsche came, it brought a lot of excitement," said Will as he gripped his hands together. There's excitement evident on his eyes as he began the tale. "There are a lot of buzz here and there about the team. After all, it was the first time FIA had decided to expand the sport." As he said this, clips of articles and old interviews from back in 2012 can be seen playing.
The decision that FIA made to add one more team in the sport after decades. It's for the fans, they had said. To add more excitement and enjoyment for the sport.
"I think our team motto is the reason why we can become like this," said Herman as the camera switched back to him. "Complete domination."
Sounds of machine whirring could be heard as a clip from recent grand prix could be seen. It's a fight between Porsche and Red Bull. A fight, that the pitch black car wins easily.
"Porsche managed to become one of F1 top team during their debut year, and they only ever skyrocketed ever since then," continue Will, he sounds every bit amazed at that. "Every year, without fail, they will always become a favorite to win the championship."
"It's a rocket ship," said Herman as the scene changed towards mechanics and engineers did their adjustment towards their car in the garage. There's a serious air around them as they continue their job. "I like to think that we're building a rocket ship, and not cars."
A compilation of the pitch black car zooming in front of the camera could be seen.
"Besides the complete monstrosity that they call car," said Will, eyes full of amusement. "Their driver lineup is, is simply incredible."
Two people could be seen walking through the grid in a dramatic slow motion. Only their bottom half could be seen, both wearing dark colored pants and sneakers. 
"We have the most amazing driver lineup in the grid," mused out Herman as the scene changed back to him, letting out a small laugh. His previous lack of emotions has changed as a clear mirth could be seen shining through hid eyes. "A really unique one."
Well, unique is an understatement.
Will laughed, head nodding. "Their number one driver is probably the favorite driver is most definitely the favorite driver on the track-"
The scene changed into many race compilations, as a pitch black car with the number 1 could be seen overtaking Ferrari's familiar deep red car as well as Mercedes's during their highest height. Checkered flag could be seen waving around as the car zoomed past it, as it was announced as the winner of the race.
"And the favorite off the track."
Kring! Kring!
At the familiar sound of a bicycle bell, many turned their gazes towards the source of it. Almost immediately, their faces broke into smile as they laid their eyes on the person riding the vehicle. The camera is positioned at the back, showcasing long hair with dark Porsche hat on top of it.
As she made her way, many people greeted the woman in a friendly greetings. Some drivers like Daniel Ricciardo or Lewis Hamilton too could be seen waving or trying to make small talk with the rider of the bicycle. With those small interactions, it's clear that she's a popular face here in the grid.
The scene changed towards the interview room where a woman could be seen sitting on the chair. She looks oddly comfortable. As if there's no whole production crew staring at her just beyond the camera.
"Can I start?" she asked, voice soft. Long hair styled perfectly and bright eyes could be seen staring straight towards the camera.
"Yes, yes, start when you feel ready," voiced out the producer.
Said woman laughed, eyes crinkling and cheek rosy. "Well, hello, everyone, Netflix, and new Formula One fans, hopefully," grinned the woman as a round of small laughter rang through the room. Pearly white teeth could be seen under the painted lips. "I'm y/n l/n and I drive for Porsche Formula One team."
"Please say the full team name," said the producer.
Y/n blinked, before the grin on her face widened. "Ah, I completely forgot what it is. Better call Herman, no?"
After that introduction, a camera that was being placed on top of Porsche's garage as the car did a pitstop could be seen showcasing the Drive to Survive opening. 
The scene cuts back towards the dark colored interview room. The name y/n l/n now could be seen besides the female as the title as Porsche's driver could be seen underneath it. Besides that, another addition also can be seen.
Three times world champion.
It's a title that many would salivate at the mere thought of. The very dream of every driver that ever graced Formula One.
Various news outlet appeared at this. News anchor announcing y/n's debut back in 2012. Of her, being the first female formula one driver in decades. Of her, as the youngest person to actually managed to snagged one of the most coveted seats in motorsport. Of her, breaking many unseen boundaries and limitations that the sport had put.
A photo of her on the cover of Times Magazine could be seen. Posing comfortably in front of her Formula One car as she holds her helmet.
"Y/n is probably the biggest star that F1 has ever produced," said Will as the screen shows Y/n's instagram page with a whooping 50 million followers. And counting. "She's completely charismatic woman-"
A scene where y/n is mingling with people in the paddock was seen. Laughters could be heard as a response to whatever she said. They seems magically charmed and completely fixated on the woman.
"- a fashion icon-"
Y/n now can be seen in Paris Fashion Week, sitting front row with various celebrities near her.
"- life of the party -"
A ecstatic y/n could be seen spraying champagne to other fellow drivers. The atmosphere is light and full of teasing and banters.
"- And of course, a damn good driver."
The scene changed into a dramatic turn that the woman made in one of the corners. The screeching sound of tires meeting gravel could be heard as she propelled into full speed, easily overtaking cars that stood in front of her. A scene where she was crowned as that year world champion also can be seen as she celebrated with the team.
It changed back to the interview room, where the woman could be seen completely relaxed as she smiled. 
"Do you think you're a good driver?" asked the producer.
Y/n tilted her head before various clips appeared.
"AND Y/N L/N IS THIS YEAR WORLD CHAMPIOOON-!" She could be seen spraying champagne.
"TWO YEARS IN A ROW! Y/N L/N IS A WORLD CHAMPIOON-!" A clip of her spraying champagne once again was shown.
"AND YET, SHE MANAGED TO TAKE BACK HER CROWN AS A WORLD CHAMPION!" And another clip of her spraying champagne towards other fellow drivers could be seen.
The loud scene full of euphoria and loud yells are cut as y/n appeared back in the interview room, a small smile on her face. The sudden change into a tense silence is a bit shocking.
"Well," she started, laughing. "I guess I'm a pretty good driver?" y/n stopped a bit. "Can definitely become an Uber as a side hustle."
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fangirl-dot-com · 20 days
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Across Every Universe - Part 2
Well, I didn't expect this work to get this long. It was only supposed to be short but then I worked on it all day and for multiple hours on end?? I guess I just enjoy this concept so much! These are basically the stories I wanted to put in last time, but they needed their own chapter to truly shine.
I know people asked for Arthur and reader romance, but To Do Is To Dare has always been a racing fic first and romance second. I tried to add in all the people I could without going crazy with the plot line or it would have gotten out of hand (or more than it already is). There is a lot of Max and Charles (my two favorite boys on the grid).
If anyone has anything against Lestappen - there's the door :)
Please enjoy :)
Earth 33891
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“Please stand for his Majesty King Max Emilian Verstappen, King of the Netherlands and Prince of Orange.” 
Max always hated these announcements. Like, why did they have to always say his middle name and all the titles that came with it? He put on a gentle smile and waved to the crowds around him. Thankfully, his dressers had decided to forgo the kingly robes and opted for a nice suit with his pins. Definitely fitting for the Dutch Grand Prix. 
This would be his ninth to attend since taking the throne at 18-years-old after his father passed away. The kind always enjoyed seeing the Orange Army at the home race. 
After greeting everyone, he was led to the special box. Apparently, more than one royal had decided to attend as well. Max’s shoulders loosened when his eyes landed on a familiar figure. 
“Charles!”
Charles Marc Herve Perceval Leclerc, The Sovereign Prince of the Principality of Monaco. Max was always glad that his mother only chose one middle name for him instead of three. 
The prince’s green eyes widened at the sight of the Dutchman. He waved off whoever he was speaking to and all but glided across the room. The two forwent the formalities and brought each other into a hug. 
Max leaned back a bit to look the Monegasque in the eye. 
“What are you doing here? Monaco not enough for you?” 
There was a playful glint in his eyes as Charles rolled his. The brunet gestured to a plush couch in the corner, one that Max was excited to sit in. 
Charles began to speak, a small smile on his face, “Well as you know, my brother is currently dating one of the drivers on the grid. And it is her home race so Arthur wanted to come watch.” 
Max nodded, understanding perfectly. He knew exactly who Charles was talking about.
Y/n L/n, the only female driver, who currently was working on her fourth World Champion.
“And where is your brother now?” 
“He’s in the garage,” Charles rolled his eyes. He had wanted to go, but an ambassador had insisted that he needed to talk to the prince. 
“Why don’t we head there. I always want to say hello to my race winner.” 
Now, Max and Y/n had a very loving sibling relationship. The king had watched her grow up karting and made sure to sponsor her and support her through her career. Without his support, the girl would not have been able to continue. Yet, when you put the royal Dutch crest on your Formula 3 car, someone has to know that it means something. 
This would be her 4th season in Red Bull, having been 19 when she joined in 2019. She was only 20 when she won her first World Championship, breaking the record for the youngest ever to dominate the sport. 
Now she was 24 and is on a path to win her fourth in only five races if she keeps up the winning streak. Max was only older by 3 years, yet he watched over her like a very protective older brother. 
He and Charles had made their way down to the pitlane, much to their advisors’ chagrin. They passed by the Mercedes garage to say hello to King Lewis Hamilton III and then George Russell, Duke of Sussex. The two Brits had been friends or well, colleagues, with the other two reigning monarchs for quite some time. They were currently backing Kimi Antonelli and Mick Schumacher, the current driver line up for Mercedes.
Right next to the silver garage stood a very orange and bright one. Max was excited to see Lando Norris, Duke of York also in attendance. He was very close with the two Aussie drivers, Oscar Piastri and Daniel Ricciardo. 
Down the line was Williams, who was attending to a very eager Logan Sargeant, the President of the United States’ kid. Max was fond of the blond and often said hello to him whenever he got the chance in diplomatic settings. 
But finally, they were able to reach the big navy garage. Max could definitely pick up Arthur’s almost French accent everywhere. But, his ears were tuned to the sound of your Dutch accent that was similar to his. 
“Geitje!” he called out, finding your blond hair against the navy racing suit. 
You looked over your shoulder, pausing the conversation with your boyfriend. You rolled your eyes when you saw Max in his kingly splendor. You took a few steps toward the fellow Dutch and gave him a hug. 
“I told you to quit calling me that. I’m not a kid anymore, or was never a goat for that matter.” 
Charles took this moment to catch up with his brother. 
Max looked down at you fondly. “You’ll always be that small kid whose suit was two sizes too big on her.” 
You honestly wanted to cry, but you kept the tears in. There was a race that you needed to win. 
“Are you going to give me my trophy this year?” 
“Don’t I every year?” 
You looked up in mock thought. “Well, there was that one year that you had appendicitis and your mom gave me my trophy.” 
Max lightly nudged you. “That was one year, let it go.” 
You grumbled. “Well I hope that someone won’t break my trophy this year.” 
Your teammate, Ollie Bearman, popped his head up from where he was looking at his tyres. 
“It was one year Y/n! One year!” 
You giggled at the disgruntled yells from the British Driver. Ollie had been one of your favorite teammates. 
Your first year, you were paired with the golden boy himself, Sebastian Vettel, before he retired with one last championship. And then your first year as world champion, you were paired with Oscar Piastri before he left for McLaren. Ollie had been your teammate for the past two years, but you had a feeling that he’d stick around for more than a year. 
You got the heads up that the race would be starting soon. You turned back to Max. 
“Are you staying here or do you have to go?” 
Max had a mischievous glint in his eyes and was about to reply before being interrupted. 
“Actually, their royal highnesses need to return to the royal box.” 
Max fought the urge to roll his eyes. You only laughed and pushed him in the direction of the exit. 
“Go, I’ll see you at the top.” 
“Blijf veilig, alsjeblieft,” Max softly pleaded. 
He really hated that you put your life on the line every weekend for the job that you loved. He remembers the first time you had a terrifying crash when you were unconscious until they got you to the hospital. He was told that you probably wouldn’t wake up. However, you defied the odds and were back in the seat for the next race. 
You responded, just as gentle, “Voor jou, mijn koning, altijd.” 
When Max left, he turned around one last time and witnessed you giving Arthur a quick kiss before he put your helmet on. It was something that the two of you had been doing since you started dating almost two years ago. 
The Dutch king was back to walking with Charles to the box. 
“So, when is he proposing.” 
He hadn’t expected an answer, but was surprised when he got one. 
Charles gave Max a look. “They’re actually going to a restaurant, and he plans to propose tonight.” 
Max’s eyes widened at the confession. But, he got over it quickly before gently smiling. You deserved happiness, and you found that in his closest friend’s brother. 
“So will she have to stop racing for royal duties?” the blond questioned. 
Charles shook his head. “Non. Arthur will step down.” 
Max clapped him on the back. “Guess you and Alexandra need to start with some heirs huh?” 
Charles squinted up at him. “Says the man who currently needs to propose as well.” 
The prince got the last laugh as he left Max stuttering for a comeback. 
You won the race like Max knew you would. The king watched as you held your head up high as the Dutch National Anthem played loudly through the crowds. He saw the crowds of orange, the only ones rivaling the red Tifosi at Monza. 
The crowds were shouting, “De Langverwachte! Onze kleine leeuw!” 
The Long Awaited. 
Their Little Lion. 
Max had always wished for a champion from his home country. Something to ode back to the sport he loved as a kid. His wish came true in the form of you. People talked as the king publicly backed the only female driver on the grid. But he knew that you were something special. He was there as you took the championship from Vettel in the last lap of the 2020 season fair and square. Obviously he was thankful that there was no safety car to ruin your race of any kind. You had coped brilliantly against your older teammate and your talent truly showed.
Max was given the signal to head out with the hand painted trophy. He was honestly kind of scared to drop it. But he made it across the stage and handed it out to you.
You proudly took the trophy from Max after you bowed in respect. He may have been your friend, but he was your king first. 
The ceramic trophy was held high once it was safely in your hands. Jokingly you hugged it tight as you gently stepped down off the podium. Ollie gawked at your childishness before spraying you with the champagne. 
With trophy set down a nice ways away, you took your own bottle. Except, instead of spraying Ollie, you pointed it at Max, whose jaw was on the floor as you came after him with the liquid. 
If you were having fun now, you wouldn’t expect what was coming later that night. 
And you said yes. 
Earth 12399
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“Zusje!”
Your eyes widened at the familiar squeaky and young voice. You turned your whole body away from your race engineer to only be taken down in the knees. Once you were on the floor, you laps was immediately filled with a small body that had bleach blond hair and bright blue eyes. 
“Maxy, Ik heb je gemist Kleintje!” 
“Uh Y/n, is everything good?” Charles’s voice sounded from above. You stared back at your teammate in the red overalls. You grabbed under the child’s arms and hoisted him up along with yourself. 
“Yep! Charles meet Max. Max meet Charlie.” 
Max’s small eyes widened before he tucked himself in your neck. Your hand came up and rubbed his back as you cooed. You turned back to Charles. 
“He’s a bit shy in front of his favorite driver.” 
You poked Max’s side and his giggles filled the room. The small one turned his head and peered at the Monegasque whose eyes were wide, looking at the child in his teammate’s arms. 
“Didn’t know you had a kid.” 
Your jaw dropped at his statement. 
“He’s not my kid, idiot. He’s my brother,” you hissed, lightly bouncing Max up and down as you swayed side to side. 
“Oooohhhh.”
You rolled your eyes. “Yeah oh. I’m younger than you.” 
“One night stand?” 
“Charles!”
The brunet laughed loudly, making Max giggle a bit with him. You looked down into his blue eyes. 
“Oh so you think that’s funny hm? I’m getting bullied.” 
Max only giggled more before pointing at Charles. 
“Rari?” 
You lovingly stared at him in your arms. “Yep, Rari.” You saw how Charles was staring at Max. “You want to hold him?” 
Charles dropped everything (only his water bottle) and reached out to take Max. Once he was in Charles’s arms, Max immediately rested his head on his shoulder and gripped the red suit. You smiled fondly at the two. 
“He’s so small,” Charles whispered after seeing the kid’s eyes close in slumber. 
You ruffled the spiky blond hair. “Yeah, he’s only 3 though. Full of wonder.” 
“Y/n!” 
Ah, there was your mother. You looked over and saw Sophie walking with your other sister Victoria. Thankfully, your dad was nowhere to be found. After you found out what he had done to Max, you put in a restraining order against him immediately. 
It was a hard discussion with your mom when you told her that she needed to divorce him. Tears were shed and hearts were broken. But, you never wanted to see another bruise on your younger brother again. 
It was fine if he did that to you. But to Max? 
Jos wouldn’t stand a chance against your anger. He had shaped you to be like him. 
A racer. A winner. The best. 
But being the best wasn’t supposed to be the most important anymore. And if he wanted you to be like him, then he’ll get his own anger thrown back into his face. You remembered how your fist met his eye after you found Max alone with him one night. An ugly purple thing covered Max’s tiny wrist and there was a scratch on his face. 
You had just returned home from a triple header and wanted to surprise your family. Only, you came home to Max’s screams of terror and Jos Verstappen yelling. You didn’t think, you just did. Sophie and Victoria returned home to multiple police cars and an ambulance in front of the house. When they finally were told what happened, they found you covering Max’s body with your arms as you spoke to one of the paramedics. A blanket was draped around your shoulders and a bruise was forming on your face as well. 
After that, you moved your entire family to Monaco with you. Your house was plenty bit and you only shared it with Charles whenever he came over to play FIFA. But now, whenever he wanted to play, you insisted on going to his house. 
It might have been to protect your family. Or it might have had to do with a certain handsome brother that Charles had. 
Definitely the first one.   
Hence why Charles had never met Max beforehand. But that also didn’t stop the little gremlin from choosing Charles as his favorite driver and not his sister. 
It’s not like you were bitter or anything. 
You walked toward your family and gave the two women a hug. 
“I’m glad that you could come today!” you told them, truly happy at their arrival. It wasn’t like it was a big race. You had already won the championship last week, which sadly they weren’t able to make it. But Max was still up past his bedtime when you got home after. The kid sleepily muttered that he was glad you won, even though you had beaten Charles. Yet, you reminded him that Charles had won the year before and it was sissy’s turn. 
Sophie looked at Max in Charles’s arms. “He’s so comfortable. I honestly thought he’d be scared of men after what happened.” 
Victoria nodded in agreement. 
You crossed your arms. “I think that Max knows that dad wasn’t a good man. And well, he still loves Lando though.” 
“Is that Max?” 
Speaking of. 
Max’s head jerked up from Charles’s shoulder at the familiar voice. His little head swerved in the direction of the papaya clad driver. 
“Lanno!” 
Max started to squirm in the captive arms. Charles quickly set him down, not wanting him to fall. Max immediately ran to the Briton, who picked him up with ease. At the sight of the two, Charles pouted. 
You knocked him with your shoulder. “Don’t’ worry, you’re still his favorite. He bought Max a toy McLaren for his birthday and Max demanded that I paint it red and add a 16 on the side.” 
Charles seemed to gleam with pride at the confession. 
“Don’t tell Lando though. He’d be devastated.” 
What Lando didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. 
“Hey little man. You ready to watch the race?” 
Max’s head bobbed quickly. 
“Are you going to watch Lanno win?” 
At that, Max shook his head making Lando’s eyes widened. 
“Little Verstappen I am hurt.” Lando clutched his hand to his heart in mock hurt. Max only stared at him while the McLaren driver put on a bit of a show. 
Charles piped up from beside you. “Max, is Charlie going to win?” 
Max, once again, shook his head. Now that made you confused, because Max always cheered for Charles. You cocked your head as you looked at your brother. 
“Then who Maxy?” 
The boy shyly pointed at you before muttering, “Zusje gaat jullie allemaal verslaan.” 
Not that made you laugh out loud, causing even more confusion to the two male drivers. You covered your mouth as you continued to laugh. Sophie and Victoria laughing as well. 
You smirked at your rival and teammate. 
“He said I’m going to kick your asses.” 
Max gasped as he heard your words. 
“Bad words!” 
Max pouted as he was put down by Lando. His little legs ran to you and his arms stretched out wanting you to pick him up. You squatted and scooped him up. Your arms tightened around him as he tried his best to hug you. 
“Sorry for the bad words kid.” 
“’S ok,” he slurred, getting even more tired. It was definitely his nap time. And it was time to get in your car. You handed him back to Sophie, who gave you a kiss on your head as you stooped. You gave a quick hug to Victoria before going back to kiss Max’s head. 
“I’ll win for you ok?” 
Obviously, he couldn’t hear you, but you would say it anyway. You turned away from your family to get ready. 
“Going soft on me L/n?” Lando quipped, making his way out of your garage. 
You discreetly flipped him off, to which he laughed at as he left. It took about 30 minutes to get in the car and get everything ready. You swerved your head, making sure the helmet was tight. Your eyes flitted about the garage and caught sight of your family again. Max was now wide awake and waving at you. 
Your gloved hand reached out and displayed your fingers wide. The little boy reached over in his mom’s arms and clapped your hand with his small one. You were given the signal that it was time and drove off once Sophie was out of the way. 
Her and Max watched as you rounded the corner in your red Ferrari, out of sight. 
Sophie leaned down and kissed her youngest’s head.
“Mijn baby, zal zus winnen?” 
Max’s small voice was just loud enough for her to hear. 
“Ja mama, sij is kampioen.” 
Earth 9596 
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(btw - I made the max pic because no one has good edits of him in a ferrari suit)
“Scuderia Ferrari Signs Y/n L/n for the 2024 Season”
“Ferrari Mistake? The Formula 1 Team Signs the Youngest Driver to Date” 
“Ferrari Becomes the First Formula 1 Team to Sign Female Driver” 
“Former F1 Champion Lorenzo Alessandrino Backs Goddaughter as Her Race Engineer” 
“How Will Verstappen React to His Younger Teammate on the Track?” 
You hadn’t known what to expect when you arrived at the paddock first thing on Saturday morning. You had convinced Lorenzo to bring you early so you could at least avoid some of the crowds, if not all. However, it seemed like everyone else liked that plan as well, and the paddock was full. 
You hung back near Enzo as the two of you walked side by side. Your hands gripped your backpack straps hard, turning your knuckles almost stark white. Thankfully, your sunglasses kept your wide and scared eyes from the public. It wasn’t that you were scared of people. It’s what you thought that they thought about you that made you nervous. 
Just 17 and baby faced. 
Something that wasn’t heard of in 2024. Yet, with older drivers retiring back and forth, the FIA had to make new changes to deal with the need of rookie drivers. Hence why Lorenzo pushed to have Ferrari sign you as early as possible. You basically went from karting, to Formula 2 and didn’t even start your second season. 
It came as a shock when Lewis Hamilton finally retired after only one year at Ferrari. You had thought that he’d want to get one more championship to make it to 9. But, life throws curveballs and it was headed straight to you. 
Now you had to face your new teammate, a champion himself, Max Verstappen. You let out a sigh of relief when you noticed that he was talking to Charles Leclerc and Fernando Alonso. The two black Mercedes polos stood out in contrast to Max’s red one. You took a quick glance at the two drivers and realized that they were already watching you. 
Your cheeks heated up as you quickened your steps to get to the garage faster. Once you were in the safety of the garage, you let out a deep sigh. 
Lorenzo looked at you with a sad smile. He knew you were going to be overwhelmed for the entire day. He took his backpack off and reached down in, fingers feeling for your headphones. He took them out and handed them to you. 
You immediately put them on, connected them to your phone, turned on the music, and got to work on your racing journal. You wanted to go over your notes before the race. While you were distracted, Enzo took a little walk, trying to find some coffee. 
He ended up walking past the group of three drivers and smiled at Charles. The Italian knew of him growing up and was excited to see him in a team that gave him a good championship winning car. 
He nodded his head toward your new teammate. “Max.” 
Max’s eyes lightened at the familiar face. “Enzo!” 
The two bro-hugged before parting, letting Enzo greet the two Merc drivers. When he was done, Max had a teasing attitude. 
“Can’t convince you to stay as my engineer? Don’t get me wrong, I love GP, but you knew me better.” 
Enzo smiled and shook his head. “No can do. Gotta take care of my kid.” 
Fernando entered the conversation. “Where is she? We saw her walking but then she disappeared.” 
The older man scratched his head. “Yeah, she tends to do that. She’s a bit nervous.” 
Charles scoffed. “I’ll say. They shouldn’t have said anything until Wednesday. Sky Sports announced it way too early.” 
The Monegasque had something similar happen to him when he first joined Mercedes. It had all been planned that he would take Valtteri Bottas’s seat mid-season. Yet, Sky Sports announced it before Mercedes had a chance to even say that Bottas had wanted to retire early due to an illness. The media had made Charles into a seat-stealing villain his first season. 
The engineer nodded sadly. “I think she’s also nervous about the team.” 
Max looked at him with a shocked expression. “The team?” 
Enzo waved his hands. “She has full confidence. Y/n’s a bit nervous about trying to be on your level Max.” 
Well, that didn’t settle well with the Dutchman. Great, he was excited to have such a young teammate: someone who he could get along with and help them grow in the sport. But now, you were afraid of him? 
“She’s not scared of you Max, just nervous.” 
Oh. He said that out loud. 
Max glanced back at the garage. “Can I go talk to her.” 
Enzo nodded before handing him a pen. “I forgot to give this to her, she’ll be looking for it. You don’t mind giving it to her right?” 
“Not at all,” he responded, thankful for something that could break the ice between the two of you. 
Max grasped the pen and made his way to the overly bright red garage. He really wished Ferrari would take a page out of Mercedes’s book and make everything black. But no, they had to show off the corsa rosso red. 
You were too busy writing some notes down, with the wrong pen, to notice Max’s shoes now in your line of sight. The Dutchman lightly nudged your own shoe, which had your head jerking up to look at him. 
Your eyes widened and your hands reached to pull your headphones off. 
Max only smiled down at you. He thought that you looked like a scared mouse. He wondered if you were quiet like one as well. 
“Mind if I sit?” he asked. 
You could only shake your head no and scoot over as Max sat down on the concrete near you. The two of you sat in silence as you continued to scribble. Max suddenly remembered the pen in his hand. 
“Here. Enzo wanted me to give this to you.” 
Your fingers lightly touched his as you grabbed it from him. 
To Max, you also reminded him of his sister at this age. Shy, meek, quiet. But he had seen your videos and your impressiveness on the track. Your overtakes were nothing to be overlooked. He heard you sigh as the pen now nicely glided over the pages. 
The Dutchman let his eyes wander over the pages. He noticed that you were even taking notes on him as well.
You didn’t look at him, but you spoke, “If you break a bit later on turn 4, you can cut off another tenth.” 
Your voice gave Max whiplash as he wasn’t expecting you to talk to him without being prompted. His mind ran as he tried to remember turn 4. When he did the calculations he was surprised to find that you were correct. 
“How did you..” 
“I watched your onboards from last season. You’re very, what’s the word,” you gave him a smirk, “predictable.” 
Max’s jaw dropped, which caused you to laugh a bit. Max, although shocked, was glad that you were coming out of your shell a bit. 
He leaned over to whisper, “Are you overwhelmed with the red as much as I am.” 
You smiled as you whispered back, “It is positively draining. Why can’t they do black like Mercedes?” 
Max threw his hands up. “That’s what I’ve been saying.” 
You pretended to think. “What if we gang up on them. They can’t resist both drivers.” 
Max put on a weird accent, making his voice higher. “It’s either change the garage and everything to black or we walk.” 
That made you snort which caused Max to wheeze. 
Enzo was just on his way back with two coffees (both for him) when he heard the sound of you laughs mixed with Max’s. He smiled fondly at the two drivers. He took a sip before putting on his bright red headphones that he needed for qualifying. He coughed a bit, but it was soon over. Nothing like the sickness that he barely beat back in 2019. He was thankful that he got to continue to watch you grow. 
Max asked, “How far do you think you’ll get in qualifying?” 
You thought for a moment. “Uh, I hope to make it to Q2 if possible.”
The Dutchman lifted his hand to ruffle your hair. Your hands swatted at him as you pouted. 
“I think you can get farther.” 
You only shrugged. “We’ll see.” 
The car was definitely your safe space. You felt as though you could finally breathe easier. 
“Radio check please.” 
“Loud and clear Enzo.” 
“Ok, let’s get this bread.” 
You shook your head as you sat in the car. “Please never say that again.” 
Much to your and the team’s delight, you made it past Q1 and Q2. And you ended Q3 in the second row in P3. Max had just missed pole by mere hundredths. Charles Leclerc always had scarily good one lappers in the third session. 
Max gave you a giant hug at the end of the session, very glad at your positioning. 
As he had his arms around you, he thought to himself. 
“Yeah. You were going to be great.” 
Earth 331649 
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The big letters stood out to Max as his eyes began to water. 
“Not Applicable for Adoption at this Time” was all the top said. He hadn’t bothered to read the rest. He knew what it was going to say. It’s what every letter said for the past few months. 
They weren’t approved. 
They traveled too much. 
There weren’t any in their preferred age group that were adoptable right now. 
They wouldn’t be able to take care of a baby. 
They were…Max didn’t even want to mention the word. 
He glanced at the gold band that adorned his ring finger on his left hand. The sight made his eyes water more. The paper was quickly crumpled and thrown to the side. The Dutchman leaned forward and put his hands over his face and just sobbed. 
They had been trying for so long. The conversation had started two years ago as they lied in bed one night. They were nearing the ends of their careers, but they hadn’t wanted to wait until they were retired. They were sure in their marriage enough to where they both could handle a baby in their lives. 
A mini them running around, playing with Jimmy and Sassy. The thought was too much to bear right now though. 
The door clicked but Max hadn’t heard, he just continued to sob. 
“Amore, I’m back from the shop. They had the pastries that you really liked. Amore?”
Max started sobbing harder. Before he heard knew it, strong arms wrapped around his shoulders. He heard a big sigh as a head rested against his back. 
“Another one?” 
Max didn’t even reply, but his sobs had subsided into quiet sniffles. Charles glanced over at the crumpled paper that had been tossed to the side. He’s told Max time and time again to wait until he gets home to read them, but the older was always a bit too excited or anxious to wait. He bit his tough, not wanting to say anything that could upset the Dutchman even more. 
“It will be all right.” 
“Will it?” Max bit back, full of sadness and anger. But, it wasn’t anger at Charles. He was angry at the world. 
“It will,” Charles hummed. However, the Monegasque was also getting run down by all the rejection letters. He didn’t know how much more he could take. But, he wanted to be strong for Max. For himself. For their hopeful future child. 
“Every time Charlie. Every time, it’s always a different excuse.” 
“Our time will come.” 
“But what if it doesn’t? We aren’t getting any younger Charles.” 
The Monegasque harshly inhaled. He stopped rubbing Max’s back. Although, he really didn’t know when he started. 
He went to say something, yet his phone rang loudly, breaking the silence of the room. Charles muttered something about wanting to hang up, but his breath hitched at the sight of the name at the top of his phone. His thumb had never pressed the answer button. 
He quickly put the call on speaker. 
“Bonjour?”
“Ah, Mr. Verstappen?”  
“This is he.” 
“Is your husband here with you?” 
Max perked up at the question. His eyes were bloodshot, but he was now paying attention. He scooted even closer to Charles, face almost in the phone. 
Charles chuckled at Max’s closeness. 
“Oui, he is here.” 
“Ok, so we just got a call from the Princess Grace Hospital. We think you want to come here for this.” 
Max gulped before whispering. “It is what we think it is?” 
Charles held his breath as he and Max waited for the answer. 
“Why don’t you come find out.”
The two of them could hear the playfulness as the their adoption agent hung up the phone. They looked into each other’s eyes before they dashed around, getting their shoes on. Max almost tripped as he hopped on one foot, his shoe getting caught on his finger. Charles chuckled as he bent to tie his own shoe. 
Max was halfway out the door, still waiting. 
“Come on Charlie.”
“Mon amore, are you forgetting something?” 
Max patted his pockets and realized he forgot the key that were now dangling on Charles’s finger. 
“Oh.” 
Charles rolled his eyes as he walked toward the door, grabbing Max’s waste as he walked. The Dutchman quickly followed him to the Monegasque’s Ferrari Purosangue. He bought the SUV when he and Max put in their first adoption profile. 
Max huffed as he noticed that Charles was going below the speed limit. 
“Baby, can you maybe, hurry up?” 
Charles only hummed as a reply. He did step on the gas a bit, but the Monaco speeds were slow as it. It wasn’t their fault that they drove ridiculously fast cars and his husband was currently high strung. 
Charles put his hand on Max’s thigh and started to rub small circles, which in the long run did help Max calm down a bit. 
The Dutchman had calmed down some by the time they parked in front. Charles started to get out of the car, but Max’s hand grabbed his arm before he got far. Charles recognized the look of fear on his husband’s face. His pointer finger found the golden band on Max’s finger and started to rub it. 
“What if- What if- What if it happens again.” 
Charles’s eyes drooped a bit at the sadness in Max’s voice. 
“But what if it doesn’t?” 
A glimmer of hope came back to Max’s eyes as he places a chaste kiss on Charles’s lips. 
“Let’s go.”
With an unbuckle of his seatbelt, Max was out the door. Charles had to catch up to Max’s larger steps. His hand soon found Max’s as they walked in. He squeezed three times, and got three in return. 
Charles look the lead as they approached the front desk. The lady at the computer had a nice attitude as she gave them a smile when she looked up from her screen. 
“May I help you gentlemen?” 
“Ah, yes, my husband and I got a call from our adoption agent, Mitch Walker.” 
The lady’s eyebrows raised as she started to type on her computer once again. Max bounced in his place, willing the lady to type faster. 
“Ah, floor three, room 89.” 
“Thank you,” Charles stated, already watching Max walk toward the elevator. He chuckled as he slowly followed, knowing the elevator would arrive when he got there. Inside the contraption, Max read the list of floors. 
His finger traced them until he got to the third floor. 
“Charlie.”
Charles looked where his finger had landed. 
Delivery floor.
Before Charles could react, the elevator doors opened. They both bolted into the hallway. 
86. 
87. 
88. 
89. 
They both paused in front. 
“Ready?” 
“Ready.” 
Charles grabbed the nob and slowly twisted. The room was a bit dim and Mitch was standing in the middle of the room. She turned at the sound of the door and a smile made a way on her face. 
“Hi guys,” she whispered. She stepped closer and pulled a curtain that cut the room in half. 
“Hi,” Charles replied, also whispering. 
Mitch put her hands together. “So, we have a little someone who was given up today. If everything goes well, you two might be going home with a baby today.” 
Tears welled up in Max’s eyes at her words. He choked down a sob and bit his knuckle.
“I just need you two to wash your hands and then you can meet her.” 
Charles whispered, “Her?” 
Mitch only nodded. 
This time, Charles was the one to let out a small sob. They gingerly walked over to the sink, hands bumping into each other as they rinsed under the water. Once dry, Mitch dragged the curtain back over. 
In the middle of the smaller section near a couch, lied a bassinet. With bated breath, Charles and Max peered over. Tears now welling in both their eyes. Max’s finger gently moved towards the baby’s face. 
He lightly grazed the soft cheek, causing the baby to squirm. Max had never jerked his hand away from something faster. Charles let out a small and quiet laugh. The baby’s hand was open, inviting Charles to put his finger in the tiny palm. 
The baby suddenly curled her fingers around the one finger, eyes suddenly opening. The Dutchman wanted to cry once again. Her green eyes peered up at him. Max’s eyes caught a tuft of hair and he gently pulled back the tiny hat. Blond hair appeared in a small bit. He gently pulled the hat back into place. 
His blond hair. 
Charles’s green eyes. 
Charles turned to Mitch. 
“Can I hold her.” 
A single nod had Charles scooping the baby in his arms, and he placed her on his chest. His body leaned back just a bit to accommodate her. Max immediately took his phone out and took a picture. He was definitely going to use that as his lock screen picture from now on. 
Max watched as Charles sat on the small couch in the corner. Max followed suit and sat next to him. 
The baby was looking right at him. 
“Hello little one,” he whispered, finding the courage to graze her face once again. A small smile appeared on the girl’s face, but it was short lived. But, Max had seen it and he was happy that it was directed at him. 
“-ax, Amore.”
His eyes shot up to Charles’s face. 
“Yes?” 
The brunet rolled his eyes. “I asked: Do you want to hold her?” 
Max could only nod. Charles gently handed her over to his husband and watched as his big hands cradled the baby. One hand was gently placed on her bum and the other on her head. He cooed at the man and baby, seeing tears stream down his face. 
Mitch quietly approached the couple. “So, it seems like everything is going well. I can almost read your minds and I got your application approved. It’ll take a while for everything to come in but you are good to take her home.” 
Charles stood and gave her a giant hug: big enough for the both of them. She patted Charles’s back before grinning widely again. 
“You know, she doesn’t have a name yet.” 
Max’s head whipped from the baby to the woman. 
“We get to name her?” he questioned, heart filling with so much love. There were so many names that he and Charles had picked out. The first name would be something special, something not used before. The middle names would be in honor of loved ones past and present. And then, the baby would take both last names. 
Mitch came over with a certificate and pen in hand. 
“Do you two know or do you need a moment?” 
Max nodded at Charles and then looked back down at the beautiful green eyes that stared up with him. 
Charles did the honors. 
“Her name is Y/n Julia Sophie Pascale Antoinette Leclerc-Verstappen.” 
Little Y/n. Oh how the world wasn’t ready. But it would welcome her with open arms.
Earth 959589 
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“Shit!” you yelled, tumbling out of bed. You were late, oh you were so late. Max was going to kill you and you could say goodbye to your seat. 
Before the season even started. 
You tripped as you pulled on a shoe, face planting back into the bed. Your phone was currently blowing up with notifications as it rested on the side table. You hastily pulled on your Red Bull polo and grabbed your jeans. Your foot got stuck since you put your shoes on first. 
Great move Y/n, great move. 
You finally got a hand on your phone and answered the call. 
“Where are you? Max is close to having an aneurism,” your race engineer hissed through the phone.  
“I know Charles, but my alarm never went off!” 
Your head was pressing your phone to your shoulder as you talked and walked toward the elevator. 
“Just please get here ASAP,” he sighed. You could see the man rubbing his eyebrows, even if you couldn’t see him. 
“I’m getting in the car now.” 
“You better be thankful. I’ll see you here.” 
When you arrived to the paddock, you went directly to the interviews, which you were late for as well. You winced as you walked in front of everyone and sat down, face ablaze in red. 
Lando poked your side. At least he went with the polo so you two could be matching some. He leaned over when a question was directed to Arthur. 
“Max is going to kill you.” He smirked as he leaned away. Your microphone accidentally picked up the smack to his shoulder. Some eyes landed on you as you tried to duck away. 
Arthur looked over at you. “Nice of you to join us champ.” 
You shrugged. “My alarm didn’t go off.” 
“Sure.” 
Your jaw dropped. “Excuse you?” 
Before you could get any farther, a journalist asked a question directed toward you. 
“Y/n, if I may, how is this season a bit different than last?” 
Your eyes looked up as you thought of a good answer. “Uh, well, there was a lot of change within Red Bull this past winter break. My old teammate went to being my team principal. And then he somehow convinced Charles to join as well and be my race engineer.” 
A scoff came from Arthur that cause you to lean to look at him. 
“Are you all right Leclerc?” 
The Monegasque rolled his eyes. 
“I would like to have my brother back please.” 
“Well, too bad I got him first. And then back to my question. Lando became my teammate and he’s giving me a run for my money.” 
Lando smirked at that statement. 
“Ah yes, the cheeky little bugger he is. But, I’m really on track for my second championship. Maybe next year I’ll let Lando get one.” 
The journalist thanked you for your good answer.
Fortunately the press conference ended after that. Yet, it was unfortunate for you since you could feel Max’s glare from miles away. You stopped, causing Arthur to bump into your back. 
“Any chance I can come hide in your driver’s room?” 
Arthur shook his head yes, giving you some hope. 
“No.” 
You visibly deflated as you watched him walk toward the bright red garage. 
A sigh left your lips as you stalked toward the garage. Charles gave you a sympathetic look as you walked past. His hand rubbed your shoulder until he gently pushed you toward Max. You winced under the Dutchman’s glare. 
“My office Y/n.” 
You could only follow him into the office. You took the first seat you passed in front of the large desk. Max rubbed his eyebrows and sighed. But, you panicked. 
“I’m so sorry Max. I swore I turned on my alarms last night, but I was up late going over data again because I can’t let the team down again like last race. I know that I can make up the speed. And then my phone was on silent and then I tripped on my shoe and the car got stuck in traffic. I swear I went straight to the conference. I won’t be late again I promise, just please don’t take away my seat.” 
Max watched in horror as you lost your composure right in front of him. This monologue only told him that you were truly scared that he’d kick you off the team because of a little DNF last race. His heart dropped as he saw tears stream down your face as you visibly shook. 
He stood up quickly and rounded the desk. His hands dropped on your shoulders. 
“Kid, kid. Listen to me. You’re not going to lose your seat. I was just worried when you didn’t show up and when you didn’t answer mine or Charles’s calls.” 
“Oh.” 
Max wanted to laugh. “Yes, oh. Do you remember all the times I used to show up late? The times that Charles showed up late as well?” 
You let out a chuckle as you remembered both Ferrari drivers would show up a bit late. No one ever seemed to mind. You let out a sigh of relief. 
Max stood up and walked toward the door. “Now, let’s go out there and what do we do?” 
“Kick names and take ass!” 
Max rolled his eyes. “Sure kid. Sure.” 
Earth 1218 - Present Earth   
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You gasped as you sat up in your bed. 
“Kid?” Max questioned, head popping up from the couch. Vegas had been super early again and you and Max didn’t want to go back to the hotel when you had FP2 soon. So, the two of you just curled up in his driver’s room. His voice was groggy as he had just gotten up from an interrupted nap as well. 
You clutched your head and groaned. 
“I had such weird dreams.” 
“Oh. Tell me?” Max’s head was already back down on his pillow. 
“You were a king, and then you were my younger brother?” 
Max snorted but let you continue. He knew that you wouldn’t remember in the morning anyway. 
“And then you were my teammate at Ferrari and Charles drove for Mercedes, Enzo was there. Oh, and then you and Charles were married.” 
“Kid you have been watching too many Lestappen edits on Twitter and TikTok.” 
You only grumbled. 
“I do not. Finally you were my team principal.” 
“Strange. Go back to sleep.” 
Max never got an answer back, because you were already zonked. He chucked and turned back over, phone clenched in his hand as he watched the edit of Charles’s 2022 sunset lap into his 2023 pre-storm qualification. However, he didn’t know that his volume was so loud. 
“He was sunshine, I was midnight rain…And I could see it all in my mind…” 
“I KNEW IT! YOU WATCH THEM TOO!” 
“GO TO SLEEP!” 
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holylulusworld · 5 months
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Backpack - Kinktober 17
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Summary: You've got a new neighbor.
Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader
Kink: Thigh riding
Warnings: ogling, cocky reader, thigh riding, implied smut
Idea by: @dawn-petrichor-world
Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023
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You were about to spend your Friday night like every Friday night. The bathtub was waiting for you, along with a glass of wine and a book or your vibrator. Whatever would make you fall asleep sooner?
That was until your eyes landed on your new neighbor. A cigarette dangling from his mouth as he watches you. He puffs on the cigarette, inhaling deeply as you watch him with curiosity.
“Who is that?” You crane your neck to get a better look at the man standing across the street. He flips the cigarette away and nods in your direction. “What is he up to?” Licking your lips, you watch the man turn around. He uses a remote control to open the garage. 
“That’s the new neighbor. I think his name is Teller,” you dip your head to glance at your neighbor, Patsy. If anything happens in your neighborhood, Patsy is the person you go to. She knows everything about everyone. “I think he’s a biker or something.”
“A biker.” Oh, your Friday night just got interesting. Your new neighbor rolls his bike backward out of the garage. “Maybe our little neighborhood gets a bit more interesting now.”
“I hope he doesn’t throw loud parties and lure more bikers in,” Patsy wrinkles her nose as the bike roars to life.
“Don’t judge a book by its cover,” you tut. Your eyes are glued to your new neighbor’s bike. You always had a thing for bikes. Sadly, you never were brave enough to ride a bike. You always chickened out.
“That monster is loud, and stinks,” she points at the bike. “I will make a note and talk to the other neighbors about that…uh…”
“It’s a Harley-Davidson Dyna Super Glide Sport,” you roll your eyes as she takes notes. “If you want to complain about it, you should know its name.” 
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Two weeks later you’re watching your neighbor again. Watching him became your newest hobby. Whenever he works on his bike or prepares to go on a ride, you watch him.
Today you pretend to water your roses as he rolls his bike out of the garage. All you know about the mysterious man haunting your dreams is his name. Jax Teller. 
You sigh as you imagine becoming his backpack. Your legs and arms slung around his body while you go on a ride with him.
“Maybe I should talk to him,” you say to yourself. If you want your fantasies to come true, you must talk to him eventually. “I can do this.”
Placing the watering can on the ground you take a deep breath.
You’re wearing your favorite summer dress and light makeup. Usually, you don’t wear this kind of outfit at home, but you want to impress your new neighbor.
You cheer yourself up while walking toward your neighbor. He sits on his bike, smoking a cigarette. His eyes are glued to you step toward him and his bike.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” he replies, smirking as you put one hand on your hips, and push your tits out. “I’m Jax. Your new neighbor.”
“I know,” you take the cigarette out of his hand to take a puff. You try not to cough, not used to smoking. “I like your bike.”
“Thanks,” Jax grins. He’s got a lot of women fawning all over him and wonders if you are different. “What’s your name? I didn’t get it.”
“It’s Y/N,” stepping closer to his bike you run your fingertips over the handlebars. “Excuse me, but…can I go for a ride?” You look him straight in the eyes, holding his intense gaze as you try not to show that you’re nervous as hell.
“Sure baby,” he grins. “Let me get a helmet.”
“Oh,” you move your hand to his thigh, gently squeezing it, “I didn’t mean the bike.” 
He inhales sharply, but his eyes darken. “You’re a bold one,” Jax smirks darkly. “How about we go on a ride with my Harley, and you can get that ride later…”
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Just as promised, Jax took you on a ride. You enjoyed every minute. It was just like you always imagined. Wild, and free.
But your night didn’t end when he drove back inside his garage. 
Jax didn’t let you chicken out. He took you to his home, whispering filthy words in your ear as you tried not to pounce on him right on the front porch.
Now, in his bedroom you watch him sit on his bed as he watches you like a hawk in return. 
“I want you to take off your panties,” Jax demands. He holds out his hand and clicks his tongue when you take too long. “No thinking. Take off your panties and come here.”
His voice raspy voice goes straight to your core. “Okay.” You breathe out as you move your hands under your dress to shove your panties down your legs. You step out of your panties and pick them up.
“Come here,” he pats his thigh. “I want you to go on the ride of your life,” Jax smirks as you place your panties in his hands. He presses the fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply. “Your pussy smells so good.”
You make an odd noise. No man ever told you that your pussy smells good. “How? I mean…”
“Take what you want.” Jax points at his lap, but you have other plans. You straddle his lap and grip his shoulder for balance. 
“I wanna ride,” you wrap one arm around his shoulders, “your thigh. It looks so inviting.”
He laughs and throws his head back. “Go ahead, baby. When you are done, I’m going to ride your pussy until you beg me to stop.”
Ignoring his mocking tone, you sit on his thigh and wiggle your hips.
“You’re mine,” you purr against his lips as you try to find the perfect position. 
When you feel comfortable on top of Jax, you slowly start rocking back and forth on his thigh. It feels good, and sinful at the same time. Jax is a stranger to you, but here you are eagerly riding his thigh.
“Yeah, fuck yourself on my leg, sweetness. I want you to make yourself cum. Rub that pretty clit,” he breathes against your lips. “Fuck, me baby. Come on.”
“Ah,” you whine loudly as you drag your pussy over Jax’s leg. “Fuck. This feels so good. I’m gonna soak your pants.”
“Do it,” Jax’s breathing quickens. “I want to be a good girl and soak my pants and thigh. I want to smell like your cunt.”
 Jax grips your hips, now guiding your movement to get you off as fast as possible. Your moans turn into cries, and he smirks. 
He knows you are going to be his after tonight. Jax can hardly wait to ruin your pussy thoroughly. 
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Tags in reblog.
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sweetpeapod · 2 years
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@seweratwitch tumblr is a dick and didn't want to share this to the tags at all, so here's a repost 💚
Thank you for this request. I'll be honest, I was really hoping someone would send this in and this is the first of two requests I received for this prompt 🥰 I hope you like it! It came out a hell of a lot smuttier than I intended!!!! Thank you as always for all of your support, you're honestly an angel!
Warnings: Smut 18+ minors DNI, male masturbation, voyeurism, perv!Eddie, plus size!reader. Not beta'd or reread after finished so please excuse any mistakes!
Word Count: 1,140
Masterlists
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He can’t help but notice as someone new appears in the window opposite his own.
Eddie had been living in his small dingy apartment for the last few months. It only took him a few days to realise that he could see directly into the window across from him, his neighbour in the apartment block across the small courtyard.
Courtyard might be a bit of an exaggeration for the small alley between the two buildings. The paved pathway held a couple of planters with the flowers long dead, and a wooden bench that he’s sure was beginning to rot.
When he first moved in, his window neighbour was an elderly man. Frail and kindly, with an unyielding passion for golf. The old man spent hours upon hours watching the sport. Not that Eddie spent hours upon hours watching him . He simply noticed him, keeping an eye on the man who appeared to have no visitors.
Only a week ago he saw some men in pale purple uniforms packing up the old man’s things. Escorting him into their van with an obnoxiously large logo on the side. Sunset Senior Care . He secretly hoped that the elderly man would find some golf loving older lady to spend the rest of his days with.
It took no time at all to find a new occupant for the now empty apartment. Less than a week later, when he returned from his job at the local garage, still in his oil covered overalls, he saw boxes piled high in the old man’s room. He supposed it wasn’t the old man’s anymore, but until he saw a new face that is how it would remain in his mind.
It was another few days before he saw the new mystery tenant. And what a difference you were to the elder that had lived there before you.
The first time Eddie laid his eyes on you, he was a goner.
There you were, bent over in a pair of sweats, nothing interesting about them at all. Except for the way that your thick thighs filled the light grey fabric, pulling them tight around the swell of your ass.
He feels his own pants tightening as he continues to watch you, rubbing a clammy hand over the back of his neck. He shouldn’t watch you like this. Eddie knows that. But lately he’s been working more than he was at home, not leaving much time for a social life, let alone a love life. Even his nightly self love routine has been skipped in favour of sleep more often than not in recent evenings.
Just as the guilt begins to build to an unbearable level, gnawing at his conscience to make him turn away, you stand up straight. Turning to face the window and stretching your arms above your head.
He fights his conscience as he watches you, unable to will himself to turn his back on you now. Not with the way your flannel shirt rises with your arms, giving him the perfect view of your soft stomach. The white lines of your stretch marks just peeking over the top of your sweatpants, enticing his eyes lower. They drift down to your thighs again, watching the way they tense as you tilt to the side, stretching out your spine. What he wouldn’t give to bite the plush skin of those thighs as they hold his face against your core.
Eddie feels himself throb from within the confine of his overalls. He has one hand bracing himself against the wall by the window, the other unconsciously begins rubbing against the swollen muscle, giving himself just the slightest amount of relief as he struggles to tear his eyes away from you.
He lets his eyes glide up your body. Taking in every dip and curve. Imagining himself holding onto your soft waist, fingers digging into the pillowy flesh.
He feels his mouth water as you unbutton your shirt, his eyes flitting up to your face to see if you’ve spotted him. Praying that you haven’t, but secretly wishing you have and this is an act all for him.
He’s both relieved and disappointed to see your face looking to the side, eyes flashing with colour and lights from what must be the television.
You shrug the oversized flannel off your shoulders, letting it drop carelessly to the floor behind you. Eddie is practically drooling as he sees the way you’re almost falling out of your black lace bra. He longs to kiss and nip along the lacy cups, wishing to dip his head lower, let his lips tease the hard nipples he can see tormenting him through the sheer material. The soft flesh of your breasts begin to bounce as you take a step closer to the window.
He can’t fight the whine that escapes him, his aching cock pressing tightly against his boxers, begging for friction.
He’s rutting desperately against his hand now, his eyes locked on your curved frame. His grip is tight on the wall, fighting to keep himself upright as he loses himself in the sensation of his fingers gripping the hard flesh through his overalls. He can feel how hot he is, beads of sweat running down his forehead as he humps the air, eager to feel his release.
And that moment comes when his eyes, cloudy with lust, drift up your soft, supple body. They follow the expanse of your throat, watching as you gulp and imagining biting down on the sensitive skin just to hear you moan. His dark eyes continue their path. His desperate cock leaking near constantly as you run your wet tongue along those pillowy soft lips.
Eddie whines high in his throat as his eyes finally finish their journey, a deep flush heating the skin of his cheeks. His cock pulsing desperately as the coil within him snaps. Thrusting uncontrollably against his hand, his hot release seeping through the thin material of his boxers, staining his already grease stained overalls.
His eyes, more black than brown as he comes down from his high, never leave their final destination. The sight that left him with an overwhelming intensity that had sent him over the edge. He had never felt as needy as he did when his eyes had locked with yours.
Eddie’s skin crawled with mortification as the fog of lust cleared from his mind. A red hot flush of embarrassment seeping into every inch of his skin. He racked his mind for something, anything he could do to apologise, to excuse his depraved behaviour.
But every thought of apologising fell away when he saw you smile. A shy, seductive curve of your lips.
He was out the door and on his way to yours the second you raised your finger, pointing to him then curling it back towards yourself.
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836 notes · View notes
puckpocketed · 11 days
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The Summer I Fell For Hockey - Some journals I wrote while learning to love the Brave Cave.
1.
Phillip Swimming & Ice Skating Centre — at least, the rink portion of it — is affectionately referred to as the Brave Cave, nicknamed after our local ice hockey team, the CBR Brave.
This isn’t the first time I’ve been, just the first time since I began my summer fling with ice hockey.
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‘Cave’ is appropriate. Enter into the maw after purchasing a ticket from the snippy white-haired booth attendant; to stained brown brick insides, a foiled insulation ceiling, and a Hits of the Decades tape blasting from speakers mounted precariously on thin shelves.
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It smells of damp, artificial cool, and something vaguely dirty and sour; there are webs gummed up with dust and moisture that drape themselves from dark corners. Shoved to the far end of the rink are two red goal nets, awaiting game time. 
Two girls skate the afternoon session with me. We exchange smiles, politely avoidant. In the half-dozen times I’ve skated, I’ve yet to relinquish the safety of the boards. This time is no different.
Not that it helps — the Cave leaves its marks on me in the burn of my calves, the ache in my thighs, a new patch of purple-blue on my hip where I ate shit on my fifth lap. Overall: not the romance I envisioned when I set out to make this place special.
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And yet, every few stumbling steps, I manage to glide. If I strain my ears, I hear the sibilance of my rental skates carving through the ice. Fleetingly, I think; is this what it’s like, even just a little, to play ice hockey?
2.
Aimee and I are late for evening lessons.
We are too late. White-haired Booth Attendant tells us, with little remorse as he counts notes to close the till, that we needed to be here at 6:30 for pre-registration.
He looks like he’s a part of this place. Decaying, with the skin around his eyes collapsing; his mouth a deformed, wrinkled moue; his unfriendly red face a warning sign that says KEEP OUT. His booth is all chipped paint and scratched plexiglass, scattered papers and a thin layer of grime. He is the Cave made flesh.
Words leap into my mouth: ‘White-haired Booth Attendant, last time I was here, when you implied I should come to these lessons because they were “diverse” and for “people like you” I wanted to shake you. White-haired Booth Attendant, I wanted to ask you what the hell that’s supposed to mean, because this city is more home to me than wherever you think I came from.’ Instead, I say nothing. I pull away.
Behind me, Aimee follows.
We sit in the car, parked while we figure out what to do. Around us the eyes of highrises stare on, boxing us in, and their half-built companions yawn a dark greeting through scaffolding. Phillip Swimming & Ice Skating Centre, old and strange and ugly as it is, is the only place that deigns to squat at our level, a white and blue dwarf.
3.
I hang around after my skating lesson, furtive, waiting to be kicked out before the closed sessions of ice hockey start.
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The zamboni is an angel to me, coming through the rusted garage door and onto the ice to chase off lingering skaters. She rains her holy, healing fire down on that carved up plane of ice; she dresses its wounds with water and scrapes away its scars and makes it new again.
No one ever said that fresh ice smells different — something clean and petrol-laced and almost-not-quite sweet.
Later, I chat up a woman on one of the amateur hockey teams. She sneaks me into the stands, explains that we don’t have enough players in our city to have completely separated tiered leagues — the beginners play with the intermediate players and the semi-pros.
This place is falling apart and not built to host ice hockey matches, no team benches, no penalty boxes, and it barely seats 500. The interest is so low they can’t even fill out their leagues. Their referees are volunteers and do double duty as linesmen. Their gear, I learn, is often scraped together, many of them sporting hand-me-downs. What’s the thing below a beer league? This would be it.
But all of that seems immaterial once they come onto the ice for warmups. I forget about it once I hear it: my very first in-person clapper — a slapshot, a one-timer. It punctuates the end of my coherent thoughts, ringing loud and cutting through the warmup ambience.
Later, on the bus, giddy and sore and warm, I label today as the best day of my life.
4.
This part of town is an ugly, artless gash in the heart of the valley. The temporary bus station made to look like the cracked open shells of shipping containers; the construction vehicles and tradies scuttling about — all signs of perpetually unfinished gentrification — and the Cave amongst it all, just another rotted artery.
At first, I assume that people come here not because they like it, but because they have nowhere else to go. Characterless. Void.
I am wrong.
White-haired Booth Attendant cracks a weathered smile as he highlights my skating lesson punch card, notes that I’m on time for this one, and allows me entry after I’ve paid his toll. The tuckshop, which I took to be permanently shut, is as much of an anachronism as the rest of the Cave; right out of someone's 40-year-old memory with its nostalgic candy selection and hot pies. It isn’t closed. It is in fact manned by a gangly rink rat during public skate sessions. Gangly Rink Rat helps me size my rentals properly and wishes me luck.
More character: fellow skaters hang their blade guards on the netting, glittery transparent pink and neon green and a fire engine red. Even more: if you look to the left on your way in, there’s an easily missed cabinet full of dusty trophies and faded photos.
I’ll ask all their names next time. They are as much a part of the Cave as the mortar and steel that make up its foundations.
My instructor sets me to hobbling around on the ice with the correct form. I take it all in and think, on my second lap, yeah. There's something lovely in this decay. There is character here — I just had to look.
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proceduralpassion · 2 years
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I Don't Wanna Be Unfair | Chapter 08
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Pairing: Jax Teller x OC (McKenzie Gilbert)
Summary/synopsis: Fresh off a broken engagement, McKenzie Gilbert has a one night stand with a random guy she never plans to see again. Soon after, their paths cross, which complicates several situations at hand.
Chapter warning(s): language, Brandon, smutttt (oral sex; both male and female receiving, PiV sex)
WC: ~6.3k
McKenzie slid out of her car, not seeing but knowing that Jax was watching her. He was still standing by his bike parked directly in front of his garage. Once she had traipsed over towards him, she planted a soft kiss on his lips before teasing, “Eager, aren’t we?”
Jax raised his eyebrows in challenge and led the way towards the front door. He moved to allow her in first and she playfully pushed his shoulder as she entered. When he looked back from locking the door, he only saw the swing of a few of her twists as she disappeared down the hall. Releasing a soft chuckle, he followed the path that she had just sultrily glided along. When he turned the corner to his room, he found her sitting on the bed, unclasping the strap in her heels. 
“And I’m the eager one?,” he joked. McKenzie chuckled as Jax ran his eyes up and down her frame. She was barefoot now and unzipping the back of her dress. 
He walked closer to her and softly asked, “You sure about this?”
She paused her unzipping and stood. Her brown eyes pierced his own and she slowly nodded her head. And then, she turned around to allow him to finish unzipping her dress. The lime green silk material hit the floor with a faint thud and she turned back around to him. Their lips met in an eager and greedy kiss. They languidly moved together, Jax leading her backwards towards the bed. Before he could lay her down flat against the bed, she lifted up and flipped them. The swift momentum took him by enough surprise that his eyes blinked as he adjusted to their change in position. She pressed her hands into his shoulders, gripping him and bracing him against the mattress. He looked up at her with a grin, enjoying the feeling of her nails lightly digging into his skin. He slipped his own shoes and socks off while their lips met again.
Soon enough, McKenzie’s kisses trailed down to his neck. In the morning, there’d be dark blemishes resembling bruises across his skin. His hands moved to her waist while hers found the belt and zipper of his jeans. Throughout their lips exploring each other, the rest of Jax’s clothes disappeared and now they were both in just their underwear. McKenzie grasped onto Jax’s chest, caressing the random stab scar here, bullet wound there. Jax’s hands traversed the hills and valleys of her frame, enjoying when his light touch caused her to flinch a bit.
Gradually, her kisses moved lower and lower until her teeth grazed the carved, defined muscles of his Adonis belt. He hissed between his hitches of breaths at the sensitivity. At the sensation of her pulling his boxers, he lifted some and allowed her to remove them. 
In their previous two encounters, she hadn’t had the chance to truly admire his body. Maybe if she had, she would’ve recognized the various SOA tattoos he sported earlier. But, can’t take back the past…
So she decided to enjoy the present and really absorb just how sexy he was. The slicked back hair. The blonde goatee with hair traveling the sides of his jaw. The chiseled abs. The sinewy muscles. 
His hand pressed upon the top of hers, almost in a silent, desperate signal for her to continue. In appeasing him, she glided her tongue across where her teeth had just grazed.
“Kenz,” he breathed out roughly. She looked back up at him for the first time since their lips had met and her blood ran warm with the dark desire swimming in his eyes.
She stood and found his eyes moved with her as she ascended from her bent position. Her hands found his shoulders again and he was pushed back into the mattress with her following after him. Her body was firmly pressed up against him, but only until she found herself able to wriggle out his strong embrace. She slid back down and without a second glance, took him in her mouth. His eyes immediately flew open and he lifted his head some, in order to see her. Her motions were slow and intentional, and he knew by the look in her eye through her eyelashes that she knew exactly what she was already doing to him.
He felt like he was struggling to breathe. Unable to tell up from down or what dimension he was in right now. 
He placed his hand along the top of her head, guiding her, not that she needed it. If anything, his touching her was for his own benefit. So that he was grounded on earth. Because her lips and tongue were absolutely throwing him into another galaxy right about now. She picked up her pace and it took everything in him to sit still. He could just barely resist the urge to either collapse back into the pillows or lift his hips up into her mouth. Focusing on what she was doing to him right now was both disjointing him and stitching him back together. 
Her free hand scratched the expanse of his abs while the other assisted in her ministrations. Everything about her was lighting his body on fire right now and he was searching and chasing for the water to salve him. She had complete control of the situation right now, something he wasn’t used to but wasn’t complaining about in the slightest.
Her movements began slowing down but her passion was still on a high. She closed her mouth tightly around his member, sucking the tension out of his body. A low groan left his lips as his hand returned to gripping her twists. She spared yet another quick glance at him through her eyelashes. If her mouth wasn’t busy, she’d probably giggle at the way his hips involuntarily rose in response to her. 
When she removed her lips from him, he sighed in relief. As much as he wanted that release and for her to finish what she started, he didn’t want things to be over for them already. 
McKenzie’s kisses began soaring back up his chest until they were finally eye level once again. She ground herself into him and they shared a moan at the feeling. Together, they worked on removing the final articles of her clothing; her unclasping her bra and him pulling down her panties. 
Jax brought her face back up to his and kissed her again. She could feel his desire for her against her thigh, along with the desperation with which his hands roamed her. He clenched his hands under her leg and used the leverage to flip them over once again.
She yelped out in surprise and giggled in between their kisses. He began to leave his own marks across her skin as his lips traveled further down her neck, shoulders, and then her breasts. When his teeth lightly grazed over one of her nipples, her hips bucked in response, the response that Jax had been looking for.
For a moment, their eyes met in the darkness and connected. Silently, Jax asked if she was alright, if she was sure of going through with this. And without words, she spoke as if to say “we’re already here, aren’t we?”
And with that, he settled his face between her thighs and resumed his open-mouthed kissing along her skin. Soon enough, his tongue was going to work, eliciting the unholiest of moans from her. Her mind went blank from the sensation of him exploring her with his mouth. Her grip on his hair tightened as he added his fingers to bring forth more pleasure. Even, if not, for her loud moans, he could feel her appreciation for his ministrations as he felt her tighten around him.
Never halting his movements, he continued all the way through even after she found the brink of her release. McKenzie trembled underneath him as he slowly eased her back down to earth. Clouds of her euphoric haze began to finally dissipate and it was then that she could feel him right upon the brink of entering her. He looked at her for a final moment, silently asking for permission. She nods and he gives a slow, initial thrust into her.
Her legs wrapped around him as he gradually increased the speed of his movements. Just like the first two times, their movements were desperate and needy. McKenzie’s nails sunk into his skin while Jax gripped one of her legs as if it was the only thing keeping him from falling over a cliff. His head eventually fell to the side of hers as he thrust into her at a blinding pace. 
It was a familiar rhythm they found themselves falling into as their pants and moans were the only noise that filled the air. This had become their normal together, frantic and frenzied. Neither of them held back as they gave the other what they wanted.
*********
McKenzie’s body felt sated and achy as she started to re-dress. Glancing at the clock, it was still in the wee hours of the morning. A sly grin painted her face as she thought about all that her and Jax had done in the hours they’d been together. She hadn’t even intended to stay so long, but one thing happened after another and one round turned into four. Given the energy spent, there were snacks and a quick, power nap in between, but even then, they simply couldn’t resist going at it one more time for the road.
“You know…” She heard Jax clear his throat, “You don’t have to leave, if you don’t want.” He was still reclined back in the sheets with his hands behind his head. He’d been watching her as she started to get dressed.
She looked back at him with a smile as she picked up her dress.
“I should probably get back before my sister calls for a search party,” she noted as she zipped up the back of her bodycon. 
He nodded and McKenzie paused for a moment, attempting to decipher his unreadable expression. It wasn’t annoyance, but he also wasn’t jumping for joy. Deciding to do everything she could to make this arrangement not go left so early on, she asked him directly.
“What?” 
A soft sigh escaped his lips, “It’s nothing. It’s just- I know we’re keeping this on the DL for a very good reason, but I don’t want you feeling like my dirty little secret. Fuck, then go home, and then swing by again whenever we get that itch?” Jax shook his head, displaying his dismay for the tone of the situation.
“OK, but that’s kinda what we agreed to, no?” She cracked as a joke. Really, she didn’t feel used or at least in an unequal situation where she wasn’t using him the same way he was using her. It was transactional. Consensual. But obviously something that Jax still seemed to worry about. His frown was now apparent and McKenzie paused her dressing to walk closer to the bed.
“What is it, Jax?”
He looked at her for a moment, trying to gather and order his words the way he wanted them to come out. It wasn’t happening, though. They were still sloshing around any kind of way, so instead of taking any longer to reply and creating an awkward silence, he just blurted out the first sentence that legibly formed.
“What are we doing, Kenz?”
With confusion in her features, she replied, “We’re having fun.” 
“I know, but…” Suddenly, Jax was having post-sex clarity and he wondered if their arrangement was really smart, “We can’t keep this up, can we? These random hookups whenever… Surely, this doesn’t end well for either one of us?”
“And why not?” McKenzie crossed her arms, “I mean, we’re grown. We can do whatever we want. And there’s no reason why this has to end bad. All we have to do is stop when one of us says stop.” She paused for a moment, “Do you wanna stop, Jax?”
“What?”
She asked a second time, but this time more slowly, “I asked if you want to stop. You seem like you’re getting cold feet. …Or do you want this to be more than just hooking up? I don’t know where you’re going with this…”
Jax’s eyebrows rose up at the last half of her speech, “I thought you didn’t want to date.”
“I don’t. But I’m asking you,” she replied with a chuckle. She sat down at the edge of the bed and touched his leg. 
“Now, I’m confused,” He responded honestly.
McKenzie sniggered again, “Jax, I meant what I said earlier. I want us to work. Whatever this is. This is me doing that. We need to be on the same page. So I’m telling you right now, I have absolutely no problem with us just having fun. It’s what I want. For us to just keep things casual. Simply fun. That’s it.”
“So using each other for sex,” Jax surmised.
McKenzie rolled her eyes, “This is a mutually beneficial agreement, not something either of us are being forced into.” And then she looked at him pointedly, “Unless you say otherwise…”
“You’re serious?”
“Yes, Jax, I’m serious! I wasn’t bullshittin’ just to get into your pants. I meant what I said then and I still mean it now. You don’t have to be afraid I’m gonna renege on our deal.”
She sighed exasperatedly, but really she was glad that they were getting this out in the air. The less chance that feelings get unnecessarily hurt. 
Jax nodded in acknowledgement, some of his stress and apprehension rolling off him now. 
“Well then, it’s settled,” she said as she finished getting dressed. “I’ll see you later, thanks for tonight.”
With a kiss on the cheek as her parting goodbye, she was grabbing her heels and out the door. He collapsed back onto the bed when he heard the front door shut and blew out a breath. Maybe things had been made clear between them, but there was still the feeling of unease in his stomach at what they were doing. He wasn’t quite sure how to work out what he was feeling. 
“The hell did I just agree to?” He muttered with a chuckle.
*********
Jax walked into the Garden, rubbing his hands together. It was only a short distance from his bike to the entrance, but the morning air was chilly and left him seeking warmth. He nodded to Bobby and Flu who were looking through documents together over coffee. He was impressed with how early they were hitting the books. It’d been a couple of weeks since the new year was brought in and the clubs were working on securing financing with the bank for buying up the first of some commercial properties.
“Morning, Teller,” Lisa sang. She was at the bar, pouring herself a cup of joe before grabbing another mug for him. 
“Hey Lise,” he greeted with a smile.
He nodded his thanks once she passed the freshly brewed beverage to him and immediately took a gulp. The kitchen door opened up and McKenzie appeared in her paramedic polyester.
“Okay, I’m off to go crash for the day,” she said in passing to Lisa.
“Oh.” Jax spouted. It had just come out, mainly from surprise at seeing her.
She looked up at him and her eyes widened upon recognition, “Hi, Jax.” 
Lisa’s back was to McKenzie so McKenzie’s surprised expression formed into a flirty smirk when she noted that Bobby and Flu’s attention was elsewhere. A couple of weeks into this arrangement and Jax still found himself not knowing what to do at times. A grin escaped his face at her smirk, but other than that, he wasn’t entirely sure how to interact with her, much less around others. Should they never speak? Should they act like they just became BFFs? Should they just stick to hi’s and bye’s?
He choked out a greeting back once he realized he should probably respond to her. Nearing his lips back to his coffee cup, he hoped that saved him any awkwardness from the small pause. 
Despite McKenzie explicitly stating that he could break this off whenever he wanted, he didn’t want to. Bouts of discomfort, be damned. It didn’t matter enough for him to end things before they even started. Part of him wondered if this is what it’s like to see incoming trains about to collide but unable to look away. Or if this is like when you can feel what could be a good thing happening but hesitant to jump the cliff into the unknown.
Logically, he knew the cons might stack up against the pros. Sure, they were explosive together, but what happens if someone from the clubs were to find out?  What happens if Gil were to find out? What happens if Brandon were to find out? There’d definitely be questions as to when their relationship began. And Jax didn’t want McKenzie to have to go through that. She hadn’t done anything wrong, she hadn’t cheated. But Brandon surely wouldn’t see it that way and it’d only cause discord within the ranks. Was a casual fling worth that? They were adults and it was no one else’s business, but they’d both be naive to think at least some drama wouldn’t spill out from this. 
Maybe, this was something they needed to reconsider. He didn’t know if “cold feet” was an accurate term to describe anything relating to a meaningless fling, but maybe they should add a little more meat to their agreement before continuing. 
From the sounds of her and Lisa’s conversation, McKenzie was getting ready to leave and get some shut eye after a long, twenty four shift. It probably wasn’t the best space for them to be having this conversation, anyway. Not with potential prying ears. The only problem seemed to be that they were ripping each other’s clothes off whenever they were in an empty space alone.
Shaking those thoughts from his head, he said goodbye to them both before heading up the stairs in search of Gil. His steps came to a slow stop as he approached the lounge room. Brandon was on his phone, but gave a hesitant, greeting nod when he heard Jax. 
“Teller, can I uh- talk to you for a minute?” Jax shared the same hesitance that Brandon did, but he still nodded his head, silently gesturing for the Street Wolf to continue, “I just wanted to clear the air… Maybe start from a clean slate. I was doing too much and I’m not that kind of guy. So… fresh start?”
There was a pause where Jax wasn’t sure how he wanted to respond at what sounded like an apology, but he knew any continued discord needed to be avoided. And with that, he put forth his hand, signaling for a handshake.
Brandon immediately took it and spoke, “I know I may have to earn your trust. And respect, too. But everyone’s gotta pull their weight to make this partnership work, so I’mma do my part.” 
Jax’s face was unreadable, but he nodded yet again to acknowledge that he’d heard the man. His tongue clicked against his teeth as he thought over Brandon’s words in his head. He seemed sincere. There was earnestness in his face. But everything he knew about the man thus far hadn’t even put him in the realm of trustworthiness. No matter how much Jax wanted to take him for his word, he knew it was best to tread lightly. And what with the fact that he was also currently messing around with the man’s ex… Yeah, Jax needed to play it close to the vest. Someone like Brandon didn’t just lose all that ego overnight.
“Well, gotta see it to believe it, but don’t worry bro, we’re straight. There’s no reason you and I gotta have problems, y’know?”
“Exactly,” Brandon responded with a smile. He dropped his hand but before he could turn back to what he was doing, Jax grabbed his attention once more.
“But Brandon…”
He looked up.
“I’m probably not the only one or even the most important one who probably deserves an apology right about now.”
Realization set into Brandon’s features. Jax caught it before the man’s whole face hardened and then quickly reverted back to a more allaying disposition. Though reluctantly, he nodded.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he conceded before heading out of the lounge room.
Instead of lingering around himself, he decided to chill in what had become his unofficial dorm room. Sure, it wasn’t technically his, but no one else used it out of respect and making sure the SAMCRO president had a place of his own to sleep until the Redwood charter could get their own official clubhouse again. Gil and himself were supposed to be meeting to put an offer in for a couple of the ghost town properties now that the bank had all but agreed in writing that they would provide a loan for the mortgages. Jax had gotten here earlier than they were supposed to meet, which would give him time just to relax a little in his dorm room.
As he neared the door to his room, he frowned at a puzzling slight. The door was somewhat ajar despite the fact that he was sure he kept it closed whenever it wasn’t in use. And Rev had explicitly said the room was his and his only to use while he was here. 
He walked closer and slowly pushed the door wider. His eyebrows rose at the sight in front of him. McKenzie lounging on his bed with the widest of smiles on her face. She smirked with a knowing look on her face as he quickly shut the door tight. And locked it for good measure.
“What’re you doing here? I thought you were going home,” he whispered.
She shrugged her shoulders, “I told Lisa I was too sleepy to drive and that I’d take a quick cat nap before hitting the road,” she chuckled, “Figured you’d come in here at some point.”
With his eyebrows still raised up to his forehead, he tread carefully over to her and declared, “You. Are. Trouble” in between soft kisses. 
“Damn good trouble,” he emphasized as the kiss grew deeper. 
Her hands moved to his waist and grazed over his SAMCRO belt. Desire and need pooled into their touches and the longer they went without stopping themselves, the deeper they were ready to fall over the edge together. 
It was risky, them doing this here. But also exhilarating and nearly irresistible. Instead of getting himself too stuck into his own head, he let her take the lead with where this went. 
Without saying a word, she finally undid his belt and pulled him towards her. Her hands unzipped his zipper and undid his button. With a silent pat, she gestured for him to rise a little so that she could slide his boxers and jeans down his legs. The silent rush of air from the momentum of being pushed elicited a chuckle from him. She didn’t completely remove his kutte and flannel, but she loosened the first few buttons to be able to explore his chest. Her eyes ran over his tattoos and along the way, she stopped to admire the purple splotches and half-moon marks that littered the terrain from their previous sessions over the past few weeks. A proud smirk rested on her face which evoked a warning glare from him. He could take off her shirt right now and find plenty of vengeful blemishes carved into her own skin. And if they had the time for something other than a quickie, he’d plant more just because he could.
Instead though, he moved some to allow her the space to undo her own clothing. His mouth ran dry as he watched her remove her panties and work pants in one fell swoop. She’d only removed them from one leg and quickly jumped back into the sack by plopping onto his lap. He watched in desire as his eyes wandered up to her thick thighs that straddled him. A soft groan escaped his lips as she impatiently ground against him, which she shut up by returning her lips to his. He roughly grabbed her hip to steady them both, but also because he was petty and expected to see a hand-shaped bruise on it later the next time they met up. 
Their kiss gradually slowed into an agonizing snail’s pace while McKenzie’s attention wandered between them. She grabbed him fully into her grasp and gave a few teasing strokes before aligning themselves and sinking onto him.
She gasped at the sensation, not stopping to give herself time to adjust. Their hips met where she could feel the base of him and Jax’s soft, sensual touch didn’t help matters as his other hand snaked its way up her shirt. She began moving, bouncing, thrusting and Jax kept his lips to her to keep them from exclaiming their lewd moans beyond these four walls.
His hand slid up to her breast, twisting at her bra to get a feel for the soft mounds of skin underneath. As roughly and quietly as he could, he also began to thrust up into her, matching her stride. They never liked to be outdone by the other and so each time they fucked, it was a fight and a marvel to see how well they could keep up with each other. He smirked into their kiss at the sensation of her legs already trembling. 
Their movements continued in a frantic and erotic rhythm as both his hands clenched onto her hips. He began to buck into her at an unrelenting pace that she was struggling to maintain on her own. Her thighs were on fire and she pulled out of their kiss, only to sink her teeth into his shoulder. His grunts were close to her ear, which only drove her farther into a frenzy.
She was closing in on her release and he knew it. It was becoming that much harder for her to quiet her moans even while biting him and he could feel her squeeze tighter and tighter against his dick. He was on a tightrope where he could fall into pain on one side or pleasure on the other. He freefalled into euphoria, dragging her along with him as she reached her own pulsing peak. 
Her body went slack against him and his chest heaved as though he was finished with a 400m race. They rested into each other’s arms as their highs gradually descended and brought them back down to California, in this room together. 
“That was…” He breathed out and chuckled at his inability to finish his own statement between breaths. McKenzie looked at him, experiencing heavy respirations herself and finished the sentence for him. 
“Fun.. That was very very fun.”
She planted a sweet kiss on his cheek before dismounting him. They slowly made the moves to make themselves look presentable once again, with the duo sneaking peeks at the other while doing so. 
She buttoned up his last flannel button with an almost bashful smile. Almost. Confidence was probably her middle name when it came to sex.
“Thanks for that,” she expressed while tucking her shirt back in. She could already feel the soreness of where the bruises would form on her hips from the rough clutch of his hands. 
“So, you’re still okay with this? Our arrangement?”
An amused simper formed on her face, “Did me riding the shit out of you just now not clear up that I very much like this situationship?” They shared a laugh together before her tone turned more serious. “I’m good with this, Jax. Are you?”
“Yeah,” he readjusted his belt, “Yeah, I am, actually.” Apprehension about anyone finding out about this, be damned, he definitely didn’t mind the fun times they shared together in the sack. Still though, he couldn’t help but ask just to make sure they were on the same page, “So we’re still making sure that absolutely no one will know of this, right?”
She looked up with widened eyes and a frown. Jax silently cursed himself and hoped it didn’t sound like he was ashamed of their “situationship” but that was actually the furthest thing from McKenzie’s mind.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page about people not finding out. Like, not even Lisa or Sairah-”
“Yeah, we’re definitely not telling anyone. It’s no one else’s business but ours.” 
Her mind didn’t even flit to whether he was ashamed of being with her or their arrangement, she just didn’t want to even think about the fallout of what might happen if anyone were to find out. Lisa and Sairah probably wouldn’t blab about it to anyone, but the less people that know, the better.
“Just us,” she muttered again for emphasis.
He nodded in agreement and put his hands in his pockets, “You realize this means we’ll have to be more careful, then?” His words were serious, but there was a melting, flirtatious smirk staring back at her. “Sex in the literal wolf’s den probably shouldn’t be a common occurrence.” 
“I didn’t hear any complaints,” she cracked back but acceded with a nod. 
“You definitely didn’t, but we’re literally up under everyone’s noses.”
“Yeah… It’s just that driving across town to Charming was getting tiresome and boring and I like a little spice in my life,” she winked.
“Well, who said anything about only fucking at my place?”
“I’m still living with Sairah until I can find a place of my own,” she defended.
Jax’s voice got dangerously low, “I didn’t say your place. There’s cars… Drive-in theaters… A hidden spot in the bushes if you’re into disorderly conduct.”
He took a few steps closer to her and she smoothly maneuvered herself out of his grasp, “Ohhh, you’re threatening me with a good time and you don’t want these problems,” she giggled.
“Problems?” He questioned as he watched her saunter towards the door.
“Yeah, you’ll unlock the beast and then fall in love with me. I’ll ruin you for all other women.”
She gave a little wave and a few purposeful eyelash bats before slinking out the door and going on her merry way. 
**********
“Hey Rev, can we talk?” Rev looked up after turning off his bike and removing his helmet. Brandon was in front of him, with his hands flush into his pockets. Rev didn’t actually say anything, but he wasn’t making any kind of aggressive or combative display so Brandon took a few steps closer so that they were eye to eye.
“I wanted to apologize,” Rev’s eyes narrowed in slight mistrust, “You’re my VP, but even more than that, you’re my brother. This whole time, you’ve only been trying to help and I’ve been a jackass.”
Rev hummed in agreement and folded his arms against his chest. 
Brandon continued, “I messed up, I know it. I’m just trying to put my best foot forward and make things right.”
The Street Wolf VP nodded, “And have you apologized to McKenzie yet?” 
And Rev didn’t need for Brandon to say anything with the way his defenses rose.
“You’ve been a shit head to her. She’s not a member of this club, no, but she’s a member of this family. Look, what’s done is done. You can’t take back all the bullshit you’ve been pulling with her all this time, but for everyone’s fucking sake, man, apologize and move on.” 
Brandon blew out a heavy breath and responded, “I’m trying to be better,” he confided, “I’m trying to change. This last year, I was a wreck. Stressed with everything we were doing to get out of guns and some other personal stuff… And it doesn’t excuse what I did, but you have to understand, I wasn’t myself.” 
“Then why didn’t you come talk to someone? I mean, take your pick, you’ve gotta bunch of fucking brothers who you could’ve came to. Instead, you fucked up your relationship and now you’re walking around mad at the world like you’re not the one directly responsible for the consequences to your actions!”
“I know. I know, man. When I cheated on McKenzie the first time…  I felt sick, man. Like, damn near puking for doing that to her. But I couldn’t help it. I didn’t know how to stop. I was ignoring my problems, mines and McKenzie’s and it just… kept happening. That’s not an excuse. I’m not trying to justify it. I know I should have, at the very least, just broken things off before going off the deep end, but we didn’t work. There would be nothing left to salvage if I came clean to her the first time. We didn’t work. We never did and we weren’t going to. I should’ve ended things instead of proposing and I can’t take that back…” Brandon rubbed the side of his face in a moment of vulnerability, “I never meant to hurt her. I know that sounds like a lie because I’ve been a complete dick, but I never meant to hurt her. And I don’t wanna keep hurting her or the club. I’m trying to be better.”
Rev took a moment to digest everything Brandon just divulged to him before speaking, “Did you tell Kenz all this?” 
Brandon looking down upon hearing the question told Rev everything he needed to know. 
“Maybe you should start with that,” Rev suggested, “You need to apologize to her, B. Get closure or whatever. For you and her.”
Brandon nodded, “I know. But I gotta know me and my brothers are tight, too? You’re my best friend, man.”
Rev took a deep breath, closing his eyes as Brandon’s words marinated. He never wanted to lose Brandon as a brother and he still didn’t. He truly hoped that him and McKenzie could find a path where they were at least cordial to one another. So everything could go back to the way it used to be. But for some reason, in the back of his mind, Rev couldn’t help but think he never really knew Brandon the way he thought he did.
************
McKenzie sat on the couch in the living room, attempting to concentrate on the book in her hand. Every few minutes, he mind wandered over to where her phone sat on the end table. The ringer was on and the room was otherwise silent. She would’ve heard if any notifications came through, but she still found herself fighting the urge to pick up the device. 
It took another chapter before her will finally lost and the phone replaced the book in her hands. No messages. Not that it should be a surprise, but she still groaned to herself. There was no reason to be antsy. I mean, it was 2022, she could absolutely be the one to text first. And it’s not like they’d even made any concrete plans to hang out tonight anyway. For all she knew, he could have still been busy with her dad with putting in offers for ghost town property.
She knew that that’s why he was at the clubhouse yesterday morning when they had their dorm room rendezvous. And things had definitely picked up with getting business together now that the clubs were officially working together. So, she silently berated herself and determined that he hadn’t called because he didn’t want to deal with her, but simply because he could’ve just been busy. 
So, she sucked it up and decided to text him.
| From McKenzie: You free? Sent at 5:23 p.m.
Short and sweet. There was no reason to hide behind pretense. They both knew why she was texting. 
| From Jax: Yep. Just got out the shower, too bad you didn’t text me earlier, I would’ve waited for you Sent at 5:24 p.m.
McKenzie rose up from the couch and reached around for her slides. Another text came through as she slipped them on.
| From Jax: Should I be expecting some company tonite? Sent at 5:24 p.m.
| From McKenzie: We’ll see Sent at 5:24 p.m.
Meanwhile, she was actively cleaning up to prepare to make her way to Charming. A few minutes later, right as she was headed towards the door, the sound of keys jingling could be heard. A second later, Sairah appeared, who jumped when she noticed how close her sister was to the door.
“Damn bitch, you tryin’ to get knocked out?”
McKenzie chuckled apologetically.
“You going out?” Sairah inquired as she took off her own shoes and settled in.
“Yeah, I’m gonna go over to Evie’s for a bit. I won’t be out long,” she only felt a little bad about lying on her paramedic partner.
“Alright, have fun. Make smart choices.” 
With that, McKenzie once again headed towards the door. Only until she heard her name being called again.
“Hey, Kenz?” Sairah gave a warm smile, “Happiness looks good on you. Glad to see that smile back on your face these past few weeks.” 
McKenzie returned the glowing smile, “Thanks, baby sis.”
“Tell Evie I say hi. I’ll probs be sleep by the time you get back,” The young architect looked on her way into an evening nap as she lounged on the couch with the remote in her hand.
“I will, love you.”
“Love you, too!”
Giving her little sister a white lie about where exactly she was going stung a little, but it was better for everyone involved if absolutely no one knew what was going on. It was just better that way.
Soon enough, she was back at the SAMCRO president’s house and knocking on his door. She chuckled at the immediate sound of shuffling behind the door. They wore matching smug grins as they found themselves face to face.
“Back already at casa de Teller?”
“Shut up,” she threw back lightly while letting herself in. 
He threw up his air quotation marks, “‘We’ll see’, huh?”
A/N: Our favorite little whores! They’ve been having a good ol’ time, huh? 🥰💦 And Brandon… Y’all think he’s being sincere with trying to make amends?🤔 We gotta lil drama and danger coming up in the next chap. Just because they’re going legit doesn’t mean the chaos ends, right? 😉
Taglist: @drabbles-mc@ocfairygodmother@youlovetkay@est1887@rebelwrites@hey-taylor-hey@brownsugarcoffy @kmhappybunny240@readsalot73 @nunya7394
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chaospacemarines · 10 months
Note
Hi boy. Jesse pinkman
Apologies for the deception, but I wanted to make sure you started reading, so I thought it best not to announce myself.
The future is what you make of it. Just know that your supplies are limited. Welcome to Desert Bluffs.
Good afternoon, Desert Bluffs! This is Kevin bringing you all your news and good spirits for another gorgeous day in the Bluffs. But before we get too comfortable, there is some news about that gorgeous day. We're getting word that a sandstorm is moving in toward us. Authorities are telling us that it is a doozy, and that we should all stay indoors. Nothing to worry about. Just stay out of the way. It will
 pass. As with life, and as with all things, it will pass. The sun will be upon us again, and it will be like two mornings in a day. Yes. A two-morning day! A rebirth! A reawakening! What do you think of that, Desert Bluffs?
Intern Vanessa did point out that sandstorms can do a lot of damage to cars, and if you have access to a garage, you should bring your car in. Also, get those pets inside, Desert Bluffs! We don't want all those cute little puppies and spiders and baby raccoons getting lost out in the sandy breeze. Bring those loved ones inside.
A little factoid for you... Ted, our staff weatherman, says that no one really knows what causes sandstorms. God, he thinks. Or maybe they're just big gusts of wind that carry big things of sand. How much sand do you think there is in this world? There's got to be a lot, a lot, of sand. Who even counts it all? Wow, big questions today, Desert Bluffs. Big questions.
So, keep your radios tuned in here, as we'll bring you all the latest reports from today's sandstorm and how you can make up for all this lost time. Hiding from nature is taking away a lot of business productivity, Desert Bluffs, but I'm sure you'll find time to get done what needs to get done. You won't disappoint your town, your home. I believe in you. So mark down the time you spend cowering from the weather, okay? And we'll work that time back into your schedule. Great!
And, listen, get all that time in before the weekend, because this Saturday, it's baseball season again! Desert Bluffs has just a great team this year. New manager Samantha Figgins is not only the first manager to get hired straight out of business school, but she also brings a powerful ethos of teamwork, fun, and responsibility.
Last year's Sunbeams team had some excellent games, but they spent a lot of time just sitting on the bench with nothing to do, because only one person gets to bat at a time. This season, Figgins plans to keep her boys active with customer orders and accounts receivable spreadsheets.
Baseball is not an individual sport. They're all in it together. As Figgins says, “It's not about winning and losing or who you're playing. It's about building the strongest possible team brand.”
The Sunbeams also welcome a new owner in 2013 – Strexcorp Synernists Inc. Look around you. Strex. Look inside you. Strex. Go to sleep. Strex. Believe in a smiling God. Strexcorp: it is everything.
Let's have a peek at traffic. The Highway department says all roads are running smoothly. Smooth roads. Smooth concrete. Smooth tires. The slow, undulating buzz of cars over slight hills. Hard top streets gently gliding us all to our jobs and back home. The beat beat beat of society's healthy heart as we all play parts in its exquisite body.
Oh, I am getting one report that there are several stalled cars in the northbound lanes of Route 800, near exit 66. Police are on the scene dealing with fist fights in the middle of the road. Now, I can't imagine why in a beautiful town with so many kinds of yogurt stores and pony-petting stations, anyone would want to fight his neighbor, so hopefully that gets cleared up soon with a song and a hug.
I want to thank all you listeners for your calls and emails. The sandstorm came to town more quickly than expected. Lawrence Lavine, out in the Edgertown Development, called in to say that the sand was like sand but slightly different. That if you touched it, you could feel it... twice.
Lawrence said he took a scoop of sand into his soft right hand and it was as if he had two right hands. He then held the sand with both soft palms and felt four hands, like one of those foreign gods or radioactive four-armed deer that seem to be attracted to the new Strexcorp distribution center. Lawrence said he was making a sand angel, and then he saw himself. He said he just walked right up to himself and started making two sand angels. He said that there were two of him just making sand angels, and that he would happily double his sand angel production today. He hung up the phone laughing like Vanessa had never heard him laugh.
Well, thank you Lawrence. That was a useful report. Intern Vanessa also tells me she's keeping an eye on Facebook to see if our other neighbors have any news of the storm. I see Grandma Josephine posted a photo of a lovely bouquet of white lilies outside her door. Very pretty. Oh and look at this video, Vanessa! This cat just jumps in and out of boxes. That is adorable. Vanessa, can you tweet that to me?
Let's have a look at financial news. The markets are jumping today. Really jumping. The markets are up and down, but then back up again, like gravity and our fight to break it. The violent force of impact: ground to heel, heel to shin, shin to knee. And then back up again, muscular might and the threat of flight. A young boy heals his wounds as quickly as they form, jumping and pounding and hitting and soaring. He reaches skyward, the drift of the body disconnected from its earth gives the flutter of wings not just on the back but in the belly. The moment between knowing you are mortal and bound to the ground, and then dreaming you have awakened a great power to fly like those hollowed-out rodents that clog our skies with feathers and fluids. It's in that moment of knowing and unknowing, consciousness and bliss that the boy sees all that can never be. Upon his return to the flat hard truth, he sees things, himself, others as they should be seen: as his equals. He gives the jumping one more go. But the magic is gone. Another. Still none. One more for old time's sake. No. It will never be the same. Well, maybe. One more. Still another. He jumps and jumps and jumps. The jumping makes a sound. Like thunder. Like drums. Like steps. Soon he is old. The ups and the downs lack even the memory of the magic. They have replaced nostalgia with creaking, painful bones. He is old now, still jumping. 
This has been financial news.
This just in, Desert Bluffs: Mayor Pablo Mitchell has declared today Sandstorm Day. This massive sandstorm has already damaged several apartments and malls in the northwest part of town and it seems to be on course for even more costly wreckage. So Mayor Mitchell announced that we can all take today off of work. Today is a city-wide holiday. A second announcement, coming from a man that looked and dressed like the mayor said that we can make up some of our lost hours by teaming up with our doubles. The two joined together for an inspirational call to work together with these magical doppelgängers.
Is this true Desert Bluffs? If so, what a blessed and wonderful event to bring us doubles of ourselves. I am stuck inside – doing a job I very much love, of course – but if I were you, I would run outside into the sandy afternoon air and try to meet your other. How exciting.
So make friends with your mirrored colleague, Desert Bluffs! Think of what we could accomplish if there were two of all of us!
[muffled thump or crashing sound]
Oh dear. What was that noise?
Vanessa? Is everything okay in there Vanessa? Who are you talking to?
Vanessa – Oh! There are two of you! What are y-
[muffled crashing sounds, more intense]
Oh you're building a new shelving unit! Let me help you with that. I'm coming in there. Let's go to an important message from our parent company.
[sudden shift in sound/ambient music]
Got something to say? Need to say it? Unfulfilled? Never made sense of what you are? Who you were? What you will be? Unfulfilled? Do you forget sometimes about your own skin? Your own hair? Other people's hair and skin? Can you make more hair? More skin? Do you need more hair and/or skin? Unfulfilled? Are you satisfied with it all? Do you see it all? What room are you in? What room do you want to be in? How big is your room? Unfulfilled? Have you ever said a thing inside your brain and then sent it to your hand to move a pencil to write it into symbols onto a paper, which used to be a tree, and then used your eyes to translate those symbols back into the thing you just said inches away in your brain and then re-said it with your mouth into an ear? Whose ear was it? Unfulfilled? Ever eaten things that made you think differently? Breathed things? Unfulfilled? Feel things? Felt things? We are you. Strexcorp.
[back to original ambience]
Welcome back. Listeners, I have some bad news and some good news. Vanessa and her other Vanessa broke one of the parts of the new shelving unit, and I don't think we have anything to replace it. One of the Vanessas cut her head pretty badly. When I went in, Vanessa – I think our original Vanessa – was standing over her with a staple gun and a clean, wet rag.
She also handed me a printout of an email from one of our listeners. Well, I presume he's a listener, I've never heard of him. He claims to live in Night Vale. I had no idea those folks down in Night Vale could get our tiny little radio station, Vanessa. How wonderful. You know, in all my years I have never gone to Night Vale. I bet it's beautiful. Really, this whole desert is beautiful. I mean, when it comes right down to it, why would you ever leave Desert Bluffs? How can it get better, really? I wouldn't risk it.
So Steve writes “This sandstorm is clearly a cover-up. I believe this was a government-created project. Our government has long been participating in cloud-seeding experiments and -”
Let me stop you right there, Steve Carlsburg. You have hit the nail on the head. Say no more. The government is indeed covering up their involvement, or should I say lack of involvement in this sandstorm. Honestly, I don't think the government even knows how to orchestrate a project of this magnitude and of this quality. You need a well-run private business like, say, Strexcorp that has not only the faculties and materials to execute a massive geologic and psychedelic storm but to do so inexpensively and without tax dollars. Why, without Strexcorp, and companies like it, we wouldn't have trade schools, or regulated behaviors or insurance or helpful pandemics or black helicopters. Thank you for your email, Steve. What a great guy!
[deep hum]
And with that listeners, let's go to the-
oh my. Look at that. Listeners, there is a white, almost pink, vortex that has formed along my studio wall. Listeners, words fail me. It is so beautiful. I can't leave you, as our show is not yet over. But. There must be something beyond this something, Desert Bluffs. I must see what it is. I must go. I will try not to be long, listeners. [last line, voice fading away from the mic, shouting as he runs away] I will try not to be long.
[long silence, just the hum]
[Cecil's voice] Hello, Hello, Night Vale? What is this studio? What is this damnable studio? Night Vale, I do not know if you can hear me. This is Cecil, and I do not know where I am. It is clearly a radio studio, but the walls are covered in blood, and instead of dials and buttons on the sound board, there is just animal viscera, glistening under the green LED lights. I hope this microphone works. Am I in hell? Dana. Dana can you hear me?
Listeners, if you can hear the sound of my voice, please contact the Sheriff's Secret Police. There is so much blood, it is seeping into my shoes. There are – oh master of us all, no – teeth scattered across the floor. The window into the control booth is shattered and there is a swath of skin and a fistful of long, clumping hair hanging from a sharp glass point. I do not know if this is even Night Vale. I know that I can hear the sandstorm raging outside. There is a low buzz, and deep hum that might be my own heart ready to tear itself from my chest in horror or grief. I cannot know which. There is a photo, a single photo of a man on the desk here. He is wearing a tie. He is not tall or short. Not thin or fat. His hair and nose are like mine, but his eyes. His eyes are black as obsidian, and his smile. No. It is not a smile. He must be wicked, this man.
Dear Night Vale, please pray in your bloodstone circle for me. And pray, too, that no one should ever have to meet this vicious wretch of a man. I want to be home, Night Vale. Oh Cecil, you fool! The vortex! The vortex is still there (only here it is white). Okay, dear listeners, from this vile vile place, I leave you to your prison. But before I go, because I am a radio professional, and it is sitting right here on this blood-splattered desk, I give you: the weather.
[WEATHER: "Eliezer's Waltz" composed by Larry Cardozo and Ron Fink, and performed by The Ventura Klezmer Band venturaklezmerband.com]
[Kevin's voice again. Humming is gone.]
Hello there, Desert Bluffs! It is Kevin again. I told you I would be back. I don't know where I went, but I think that I met my double. The vortex is gone now, but as I was returning, I passed a man, a man who looked just like me. I smiled and said hello there, friend! I hugged this man, and he hugged me back. We shared a moment in this otherworld.
I am not sure to where that spiral of space and time took me, nor through where I traveled, but I am certain that there must be more to us than just us, and that there is another place, another time where things could have been different. Better. Worse. But let's think not on woulds, coulds, and shoulds. I am just happy I am alive. I am happy my other is alive. You are alive. We. We are alive.
Outside, the winds are subsiding. Our doubles have left us as the sand has left us. The sun is rising again just as it is setting. Our second sunrise collides with the sunset. Let's reflect on this.
Let us reflect on our lives and where we will be tomorrow. We lost our other selves, Desert Bluffs, but we gained new perspective. Tomorrow, we'll wake again, work again, live again. We are home. All of us, together. My mouth, your ears. We have each other. And as always, until next time, Desert Bluffs, Until next time.
PROVERB: Step 1) Separate your lips. Step 2) Use facial muscles to pull back corners of mouth. Step 3) Widen your eyes. This is how to be happy. 
i ain’t reading all that
i’m happy for u tho
or sorry that happened
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Text
With All the Ghosts
Fingerless leather gloves permitted bare fingertips to glide over the leather grip of the steering wheel. A tender caress that traced the curve as she slid into the driver’s seat.
The blend of sharp smells, slicing into her senses, they almost made her sick. The sting of bleach, the lemony scent of a cheap window cleaning detergent, and the artificial pine from the tree-shaped air freshener dangling from the rearview mirror. All to blot out the stench of decay that once clung to all surfaces inside the cherry-red 1990 Corvette’s interior.
The memory of Tyler sitting behind the wheel churned her stomach far more than the smells. She now sat the same way as his lifeless body once had, her left hand resting on the apex of the steering wheel, the right hand on the stick.
Like he was sleeping, albeit pallid in flesh. Eyelids closed. Closed forever.
She closed her eyes. Instead reminisced how they sat together on that balcony, laughing, and getting drunk, and smoking together.
The film in her mouth tasted bitter, almost as if she still tasted the hangover, despite not having touched any cigarettes or alcohol for months.
Blinding sunlight flooded the garage as the door rumbled open, forcing her to squint. She had lost her sunglasses, so she flapped down the sun visor.
The engine chugged to life. Thundered yet as the vehicle stood still. The Corvette rolled slowly out of the manor’s garage, and Penelope “Penny” Arnold carefully maneuvered it around piles of decaying bodies that littered the driveway. Gravel crunched underneath spinning wheels.
Then the engine went from growl to hungry roar.
Her breath shuddered as she switched gears. Sweat beaded on her forehead as her pulse began to race, faster than this sports car could ever manage.
Terror. Driving this car filled her with terror.
Penny was not a seasoned driver, but she managed to dodge the potholes on the Kentucky backroads. Swerve past the next group of zombies shambling from the woods lining the road. Tires screeched as Tyler’s Corvette turned, drifting onto the main road, where sun and summer heat distorted air over scorching asphalt, and black tracks were left in the car’s wake.
Adrenaline pumped.
A red streak trailed down the wide country road, shooting between wide fields of empty and abandoned farmlands.
The long, straight road provided space for that pulse to quell its racing. For the adrenaline to make way to euphoria. Exhilaration joined the terror, almost drowning it in its red waters. The rumble of the machine, the vibrations, the speed pressing Penny back into the driver’s seat.
A sense of freedom.
Some space to think. To remember.
But of all the ghosts to swim up to the surface of her memory’s recesses, it was not Tyler. Oh, sweet, sweet, Tyler.
No—it was Harry. Right next to her, loafing in the passenger seat.
On their road trip from New York to Kentucky. 1992. Days before New Year’s Eve.
Only days before The Event. Days before The End Times.
They were in the 1987 Buick Turbo Regal that dad had gotten her for her twenty-first birthday. Trailing down the highway. Taking turns on the long trip, Penny was driving.
Harry flipped through her cassette tape collection.
“Do any of these mixtapes not have Bonnie Tyler on ‘em?” he asked. She needn’t look at him, the grin plastering his face was audible.
“No. Of course not. Do you have a problem with Bonnie Tyler?” she said with a straight face.
Snow blanketed the landscape, crowned by dreary wintry gray skies. White flurries drifted steadily down to the ground where they turned to polluted sludge, whipping past the cars on the highway. Wipers abruptly jerked across the windshield in lazy intervals.
Harry sighed. Retaining that smug grin, he said, “Am I gonna have to put up with Bonnie all day, every day, for the rest of our lives?”
Penny’s poker face melted. Her nostrils flared as she fought back the urge to smile. Eyes on the road.
Always eyes on the road.
“You still got half a year to run for the hills, mister. 'Cause when you put that ring on my finger, you’re gettin’ me and Bonnie. For the rest o’ your life. Meanwhile, I get—what, AC/DC? I don’t know who’s gettin’ the rougher part o’ this deal.”
She felt his gaze burning into the side of her head; the grin turning into the same warm and wide smile that she remembered from when they had first met, all those years ago.
Then she snapped out of it—Penny from 1992 and Penny from 1993 both tilted their heads in unison, looking to the passenger seat. 1992 Penny saw Harry sitting in the Buick with his charming smile. 1993 Penny saw an empty seat in the Corvette, and zombies in the fields to her right, stumbling and clawing their way towards the noise of the car but far away and without even the slightest chance of catching up to her.
Eyes back on the road. The Corvette’s engine grumbled as she slowed down to smoothly take the next curve, rolling inches past another mound of dead bodies on the road. The heat had fused them together, decayed flesh sloughing off bones and melting into an indecipherable mass, only recognizable by the clothing on the corpses. Swarms of flies exploded from the mound as the sports car sped past them.
Sweet Tyler.
Another memory surfaced. Another ghost.
“That’s the home I grew up in,” she told Tyler as they stood outside the cluster of three mansions on the outskirts of West Point.
She stared at the building; all its former glory gone. All doors and windows broken by undead hands, torn down by ravenous hordes, leaving piles of splintered wood and broken glass in their wake.
“Oh, shit, really?” Tyler asked. He lifted the front end of his construction helmet and wiped sweat from his brow as he surveyed the husk of a building from where he stood next to Penny.
In turn, Penny did not answer. Lost in memories of her childhood. Reveries within reveries. Mom and dad. The old slide out back. Catching bugs in the woods behind the place. The only reason she snapped out of her daydream of better days was owed to the mental image of mom’s grave—a mound of dirt with a simple wooden cross—dug outside the refugee camp, where Sergeant Chris Burt had buried Daisy Arnold-Adams after killing the zombie Penny’s mother had turned into.
Tyler lit up a cigarette and dragged greedily, nervously sucking on the cancer-stick, his breaths and puffs of smoke haphazardly filling the awkward silence.
Flies buzzed around the corpse mound down the driveway, a constant background noise despite their distance from it.
Finally, Tyler broke the long and somber silence. “I can fix that one up first so you can move back in.”
Penny shook her head with a painful slowness.
“Naw, it’s all good. Home is made by the people in it,” she said. Turning to nod her head towards Marla’s house down the road, she added, “That’s home now. With all o’ y'all.”
The memory broke before she could turn and see his ghost sitting there in the car with her. Penny had never sat in the red Corvette with him—at least not in life. The only time she briefly sat in there with him was when she helped Tatsuya move his lifeless body inside. Propping him up with this closed eyes, letting him sit as majestically as a dead body could, awaiting the ritual before they could afford to give him a proper burial.
The car’s engine roared while the vehicle hurtled down the next long straight stretch of country road. The radio stayed silent. The only music was the thundering of wheels ripping over burning asphalt, the quaking of the machine.
Not a single other vehicle on the road. Only scrap metal and junk heaps littered the sides and ditches, where other survivors had discarded spare parts from cannibalized cars. Leaving wide open roads for them to race down at breakneck speed as they traversed the lost county.
Penny’s hair fluttered in the wind from the open window, whipping around her face. The smell of gasoline admixed with the smell of jasmine reaching the Corvette from now wildly growing tobacco fields. Strong scents to drown out the stench of cleaning chemicals in the car.
Her nostrils flared, but not with the attempt at suppressing a smile. A long sigh escaped her instead.
The motor rumbled as she slowed down again, readying to take another turn at the next intersection.
The days out here in rural Kentucky had turned deathly silent. The farmlands quieter than ever before, a testament to the walking dead outnumbering the living ten thousand to one. The shambling hordes, amassed mostly in Fort Knox and Louisville, far away from here, and kept at bay by the ones who bravely fought the zombies with bullets and blades. Creating those piles of rotting bodies that even the vultures avoided.
She pulled past another group of undead. One of them snarled and hissed at her, pawing at the car as she drove past. With the cluster of seven zombies shrinking in her rearview mirror, she rolled her window up. Just to be safe. The doors were already locked. And unlike said brave warriors, she had never even tried to fight the undead.
The air conditioning hummed, belched out freezing air. Made the sweat beading on her skin cut like tiny blades.
The engine growled, then roared. The trees engulfing the next narrow road loomed, zipping by as the Corvette sped up anew. Another long stretch of straight road.
The car thumped and rocked as she slowed down at the next crossing, cutting over a corner and traversing the dirt and grass by the roadside, avoiding the car wrecks piled up in a disastrous accident on New Year’s Eve. The old steel husks still clogged the intersection and slept peacefully, awaiting the years to fully transform them into rust and distant memories. She wondered: What ghosts may linger here?
Finally, the car pulled up in front of the chapel in Muldraugh.
September 2nd—the day they would have gotten married. Only two months away.
Sorry, Harry.
Penny repeated what she thought when she learned of Tyler’s death, before she had even ever had the closure of seeing his lifeless body.
“The Lord gives us our time here, and then he calls us back. There’s nothin’ to fear in death,” she said out loud. To herself.
And to the ghosts around her.
Yet she feared. Now more than ever. Her flat palm having wandered from the stick to her belly, she feared death now, because her own death would spell out the death of her unborn child, as well.
The big double doors into the chapel, they lay in splinters and debris at the bottom of the stairs leading up to them. The gaping hole into the house of God yawned—wide, dark, and hungry.
The leather of her gloves cracked as she gripped the steering wheel more fiercely than ever before.
“Well, dove. Courage is facing your fears,” Harry said. Back at her, he smiled warmly from the passenger seat. It was both the Buick and the Corvette now. He had said it when they drove out to Kentucky to introduce him to her parents all those years ago, and he said it again—the ghost in the passenger seat of Tyler’s car. “Are you really afraid about what others think?”
Penny smiled at the ghost.
“Not anymore.”
The engine calmly grumbled, motor still running where the Corvette stood in place, a steel casket, shivering on the parking lot in front of the chapel.
“Are you happy for me? For us?” she asked Harry.
But it was no conversation they ever had before. The ghost only continued smiling, bereft of any words.
The seat was empty.
Someone knocked on the driver’s seat window. Something squeaked.
Bloody handprints dragged down the glass, leaving hideous streaks. Fingertips from which pale gray flesh had peeled away, exposing bony fingertips like tiny daggers, missing all fingernails. Rotten teeth clicked against the glass as this zombie thumped against the window again, trying to peel open the metal sardine can to get to the living woman’s brains—drawn by the car’s noise.
It thumped its head against the window once more, and her flinching broke her free from her terrified trance.
“You ain’t got no invitation to the reception,” Penny muttered. A sorry attempt at downplaying her shock upon seeing the undead so closely, face to face, separated only by a thin layer of glass.
Her heart pounded, then the zombie pounded against the window with its ghastly hands.
The machine roared with fury. Tires screeched. Tyler’s Corvette sped away. Penny’s panic took over, hasty hands fumbled with the manual transmission. A hundred paces down the road, the engine chugged, and the car continued rolling with momentum alone—the motor’s roar turned into a purr, a chugging, and then cut out entirely.
Zombies emerged from everywhere. Poking their heads out of broken windows. Shambling out of open doors. Crawling from the tall grass by the roadside. Rotten corpses, alive, and hungry for human flesh. The chorus of snarls and inhuman growls swelled, unmistakable even through the car’s closed windows.
All certainty escaped her hands, mirroring her instinct to ditch the car and run away. But she battled against the machine. Ripped at the stick, kicked down on the clutch pedal.
“Please, no! Not like this!” she pleaded with the Corvette.
The hungry masses closed in on Tyler’s car. The nearest only needed to cover twenty more paces.
The engine roared back to life at the last second. The tires screeched again, and the panic lent her new precision as she shifted gears, speeding down the road. Sparks flew as the body of the car scraped against the curb when she pulled around a tight corner, skidding onto the main road.
Hundreds of zombies were here, all closing in on her, chasing after the noise that Tyler’s corvette made. One of them emitted a ghastly shrieking as she sped by it, and the zombie tripped and fell onto the street, snapping one of its own legs like a twig.
Among the hundreds of zombies amassing, the one with the broken leg reached out a gaunt hand from which a sleeve and flesh both sagged, as if it was begging Penny to come back. It then crawled while the rest of Muldraugh’s undead population trailed behind the car, flooding onto the road.
The vehicle accelerated. The gears chunked into the next higher slot, accompanying the growing roars of the engine. The crowd of a hundred shambling dead quickly shrank in the rearview mirror.
The presence of the ghosts, on the other hand, only grew.
Swerving past empty and abandoned cars on the interstate, she slowed down the Corvette again. Snatched the dangling little air freshener tree and chucked it out the window before rolling it back up again.
Once the Corvette was bound for a steady course of flying straight ahead, she whipped her long hair back with an arm, then slipped off Father Henderson’s crucifix from around her neck. She slung that necklace over the rearview mirror. It immediately began to dangle and bounce once she floored the gas pedal again.
“I feel useless. Everybody’s so brave, and so capable,” Penny had told Chris.
A ghost, too, though of a living man. Perhaps so dead inside, that his ghost could cross the boundaries.
“You’re not useless,” he had replied. Never explaining how. She hadn’t doubted his words, relished the small comfort they provided—but it would have been nice to know what that meant. To receive a concrete answer.
Tyler, back when they had first met, he offered that exact answer.
“My vocational skills ain’t exactly useful in times like these,” she had told him, just like she repeated those words out loud, now.
And Tyler’s ghost responded the same way he had responded then. From behind her, calm, and ponderous. A stark contrast to his often-noncommittal replies and indecision.
“You aren’t useless at all. We need sanity. Thanks for the cheer.”
Her vision blurred as tears welled up in her eyes again, for the first time in days. She wiped at them with the back of her gloved hand, scratching her skin with the seams of the leather.
Even through the fog of tears, something glinted. A bright beacon shined from the grass by the roadside, a flash of brilliant light. There and gone again.
She eased up on the gas, slowed the vehicle down.
Recognized this spot.
She had once sat here, resting, and catching her breath. Thinking that it was a quiet place for her to recuperate from her many cross-country runs. Looking for Marla.
The zombie hadn’t even tried to sneak up on her. The combination of her exhausted breathing, the rushing of blood in her ears, and the pounding pulse of her heart combined. Loud enough to drown out the creature’s ragged breaths as it crawled towards her.
Only in the last moment had she heard the grass rustle. The deathly hands that grabbed at her arm. Yanked at her to feed as she yanked away from it to no avail. The way the fabric of her sleeve tore, filthy fingernails scraping her skin. She turned into a ball of panicked screams and flailing limbs.
Where a shoe connected, the zombie’s face cracked and caved in, turning the ragged breaths all wet and angry, matching the pus that oozed from the shattered visage, smushed like no human face ever should. It continued to paw and grab at her, but she rolled away, scrambled onto her feet, and fled.
Her favorite glasses had fallen off her head in that struggle.
That was then. Weeks ago.
The same glasses that now glinted wondrously in the sunlight.
Now, the Corvette rolled to a stop by the roadside, though she left the engine running. Where the grass still lay matted, trampled down from the struggle. The zombie that had attacked her now rested, silent and unmoving, a rotten carcass sticking out over the edge of the road, its legs still buried in a tangle of turf. The crowd of flies dispersed from the body in response to the car’s thundering engine.
Squinting, she spotted her Oakley Frogskins in the grass—right where she had lost them. Sunlight reflected in the pair of bright orange lenses, framed by a transparent silvery plastic.
The motor still rumbled, and the tree lines nearby replied. Leaves rustled; branches cracked. Whispers in the wind, but not the wind.
Zombies emerged from the trees, shambling towards the Corvette. The panic and terror immediately returned, and she feared losing Tyler’s car again.
She kicked the vehicle back into gear. But not with any intention to get away.
“Courage is facing your fears, dove,” echoed Harry’s ghost.
Penny was going to get those glasses back.
The Corvette hurtled around the next corner, and she cut the engine. The car slowed to a stop, finally causing her to lurch forward against her seatbelt. Hastily, she unbuckled, slipped out the door, shut it behind her quietly, and locked it.
Though distant, she caught wind of zombies snarling and hissing. Broken shoes skidding over the street. More branches snapping.
The smell of death.
They followed the noise. Hunching over, she hunkered down so low she almost had to crawl. In broad daylight, they possessed frighteningly keen senses. She needed to avoid getting seen by them until the very last second.
She snuck into the nearest bushes and froze, melting into the shadows. Obscured through thick brambles and by the trunks of several trees, she watched dark silhouettes of shambling figures pass nearby, creeping down the road, some faster than others. The wind whispered through the woods. The roadside grass crunched under the pressure of zombie shoes.
She crept onwards, bypassing the gaggle looking for Tyler’s car—or more precisely, for the easy meal that had been driving it.
There—the glint again, the flash of sunlight as she moved. The glasses in the grass. She snuck ever closer until she dared to emerge from the tree line, taking the same route the zombies had originally followed to the noises of the car.
Turning into a human blur, she jogged right out with soft steps and snatched the glasses up. Folded them and clipped them onto her shirt.
Thumping erupted from around the corner. Squeaking. The hissing and snarling from the zombies rose to a crescendo. Angry, they wanted to enter the car.
They wanted to feast.
Looking around only briefly, Penny picked up a crumpled beer can that someone had discarded by the roadside, caked in layers of a whole year’s worth of grime. She continued sneaking, albeit now taking the road instead of the woods, giving the trees a wide berth.
Towards the noise.
Towards the group of seven zombies that were busy shaking and thumping their decaying arms and bodies against the car.
She crouched, then started rapping the old can against the Tarmac.
They didn’t respond.
Then a little bit louder, harder, faster. Tack-tack-tack-TACK-TACK—
A first head jerked around, milky-white eyes seeking the source of noise. Then another hissed and lumbered around with a stiff posture. Then another four followed in their inhuman gait. The last one, the crawling cadaver, it had not even made it to the car—it reacted by flopping around and beginning to drag itself towards her, a chunk of exposed spine slithering behind it on the asphalt where the lower half of its body was missing.
One of them raised its hands, outstretched and hungry, clawing at the air repeatedly as if it could grab her from afar. The group of zombies gave up on the car, now having found their meal.
Penny started backing away from them. Then she turned to walk, breaking out into a jog as two of the zombies also proved to move faster than a brisk pace.
Every twenty steps, she crouched down, hectically hammering the ground with the can. And the zombies followed, simple as they were in their drive to consume all living flesh.
Finally, she bolted, shifting from jog to sprint, running away from the car.
Indeed, she wasn’t useless. Running away, distracting the dead—this was her greatest talent. The zombies followed. One of them jogged so quickly after her that the others lagged behind in their shambling pursuit. They sang in their chorus of hungry snarls.
Which is why she then dove through the next copse of trees, breaking line of sight. No heed paid to snapping branches or making more noise, rather ensuring they would follow. They always followed the noise, the movements they could glimpse—and the smell of fresh blood.
Penny flicked a buttoned-up strap and slung out a hunting knife that had been tightly strapped to her leg in a sheath. She nicked her thumb on the blade. Smeared her blood on a tree trunk in passing. The grit of bark burned like salt in the wound.
Without stopping, she suckled on the self-inflicted injury, and emerged from the other end of the copse, breaking her swift stride, and sneaking towards the larger body of woods.
Even though she could outrun them, this part never got easier. So long as the zombies were close, she walked upon the knife’s edge, straddling the line between life and death. Her heart pounded like a war drum, as furiously as when she had driven off with Tyler’s car that day—fearful of wrecking it, fearful of losing it in a crowd of zombies, fearful of dying, always.
It was easy to say: do not fear death.
Words were cheap.
The silhouettes neared. Snarling, hissing, and growling. She crept through the woods nearby, wrapping a piece of torn fabric around her finger when she paused, then crawling out the final stretch. Scrambling up onto her feet and dashing off on soft grass.
Eventually, she circled back. Found herself alone on the road. Jogged the rest of the distance back to the now abandoned car.
Upon arriving by its door, she stood still, and only faintly perceived the noises of zombies in the distance, barely audible over her own pulse and the whispering winds. Without the growls of the Corvette, the farmlands had turned deathly silent again.
Quietly, she unlocked and entered the car again. Unfolded the Oakley shades, used a disinfectant spray and her shirt’s fabric to clean them off, and then slid them over her eyes.
Flapped up the sun visor with a chunky thump.
Tires screeched as she steered the car left at the next intersection.
It was time to visit Tyler’s grave.
With all the ghosts, Penny reckoned that her sanity was forfeit. The constant fear that something awful had infected her child—that its birth would damn the world, like the doctor had claimed at the ritual. Time mercilessly ticked away while a crippling sense of powerlessness threatened to rob her of whatever sanity remained. Slivers slipping away as she toyed with plunging the knife into the bellies of those who would threaten her loved ones. Talking to all the ghosts.
Despite that—or because of it—she could still provide some cheer.
She owed Tyler that much.
—Submitted by Wratts
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thissidekhushi · 6 months
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5 Streamlining Storage Solutions
Introduction
Efficient storage solutions are the backbone of well-organized spaces, whether it’s an office, warehouse, or industrial facility. In the bustling metropolis of Mumbai, where space is a premium commodity, the need for innovative and space-saving storage systems is paramount. This article explores various storage solutions available in Mumbai, including file compactor storage systems, locker manufacturers, material storage racks manufacturers, metal storage cabinet manufacturers, and mobile compactor manufacturers.
File Compactor Storage Systems
File compactor storage systems, also known as mobile filing systems or compactus units, are a popular choice for offices, libraries, and other spaces where large volumes of files and documents need to be stored efficiently. These systems offer several benefits:
Space Efficiency: File compactor storage system utilize vertical space efficiently. By eliminating the need for multiple aisles between shelves, they maximize the storage capacity within a compact footprint.
Organization: These systems are designed for easy organization and retrieval of files. They typically feature a labeling system and smooth gliding mechanisms for easy access to documents.
Security: Many file compactor systems come with locking mechanisms to ensure the security of sensitive documents and confidential information.
In Mumbai, numerous companies specialize in the manufacture and installation of file compactor storage systems, catering to the diverse needs of businesses and organizations. Some notable manufacturers in the city include:
Locker Manufacturers 
Lockers are essential storage solutions used in schools, gyms, offices, and even public spaces like railway stations and airports. In Mumbai, locker manufacturers offer a range of locker options, including:
Employee Lockers: These lockers are commonly used in offices, factories, and educational institutions, providing employees with secure storage for personal belongings and work-related items.
Gym Lockers: Locker manufacturers in Mumbai also produce lockers for fitness centers and sports facilities, offering safe storage for gym-goers.
Public Lockers: Some manufacturers provide lockers for public use, such as those found in train stations and airports, where travelers can store their luggage securely.
Notable locker manufacturers in Mumbai often customize lockers to meet specific space and security requirements. Some renowned companies in this category include:
Material Storage Racks Manufacturers
Material storage racks are indispensable in warehouses, factories, and industrial settings where efficient storage and easy access to materials are critical. These racks come in various types, such as pallet racks, cantilever racks, and selective racks, each designed for specific storage needs. Some advantages of using material storage racks manufacture include:
Optimized Space: Material storage racks are designed to maximize vertical space, making them ideal for warehouses with limited floor space.
Organization: These racks allow for the orderly arrangement of materials, making it easy to locate and retrieve items.
Accessibility: Material storage racks are built for accessibility, enabling swift picking and storing of goods.
Mumbai hosts several manufacturers specializing in material storage racks, offering a wide range of options to cater to the city’s industrial landscape. Prominent manufacturers in this category include:
Metal Storage Cabinet Manufacturers
Metal storage cabinets are versatile storage solutions used in offices, garages, workshops, and industrial facilities. They are known for their durability, security features, and organization capabilities. Key benefits of metal storage cabinets manufacture include:
Durability: Metal cabinets are built to withstand heavy use and harsh environments, making them suitable for industrial and commercial applications.
Security: Many metal storage cabinets come equipped with locking mechanisms to ensure the safety of stored items.
Versatility: These cabinets offer various configurations, including shelves, drawers, and compartments, to accommodate different storage needs.
In Mumbai, metal storage cabinet manufacturers produce a wide range of cabinets for various applications. Some notable manufacturers in this category include:
Mobile Compactor Manufacturers
Mobile compactors, also known as mobile shelving systems or roller racking systems, are innovative storage solutions designed to optimize space usage. These systems are mounted on tracks and can be moved to create access aisles only where needed. The benefits of mobile compactors manufactures include:
Space Maximization: Mobile compactors significantly reduce the space required for storage by eliminating unnecessary aisles, which is especially valuable in Mumbai’s space-constrained environments.
Security: These systems often come with locking mechanisms to secure stored items.
Customization: Mobile compactors can be customized to fit specific storage requirements and space dimensions.
Mumbai hosts several manufacturers specializing in mobile compactor systems, offering customized solutions for diverse industries. 
Conclusion
In the bustling city of Mumbai, where efficient space utilization is paramount, a wide range of storage solutions is available to meet the diverse needs of businesses, organizations, and individuals. From file compactor storage systems that optimize office spaces to locker manufacturers providing secure storage options, material storage racks manufacturers catering to industrial needs, metal storage cabinet manufacturers offering durable and versatile solutions, to mobile compactor manufacturers streamlining storage in space-constrained environments, Mumbai boasts a thriving storage industry. Choosing the right storage solution from these manufacturers can significantly enhance the organization and efficiency of any space in this vibrant metropolis.
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Make sure this fits by entering your model number. Our grocery cart on wheels is lightweight and durable. Features 6-wheel design that glides up and down stairs…
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secretyouthmusic · 1 year
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Voroly Carbon Steel and ABS 4 Tire Slim Kitchen Home Storage Organizer Shelf with Wheel (Silver)
Voroly Carbon Steel and ABS 4
Warranty:Product have 6 Month* Warranty Register your warranty within 10 days of Purchase || Warranty Activation is Mandatory || Send Your Order Id On Our Mail Id For Active Warranty
EASYLY SLIDE OUT STORAGE CART - As the space saver, the 4 tier shelves glides effortlessly into small seemingly useless spaces alongside the refrigerator or already loaded cupboards. Also use in bathroom, laundry room, garage and more
SPORTS A SLIM, COMPACT DESIGN WITH HEFTY CAPABILITIES - Rolling Cart comes with 4 Mesh Basket shaped shelves, Great for storing items in place, especially, SMALL items. Use it as your pantry, your junk drawer, your stationery supply holder, your craft storage, or any other multitude of possibilities., etc
EASY INSTALLATION - Product Size: 21.65”L× 5.9”W× 41.34”H(55×15×105 cm); The installation tool is included. Snap-together design assembles in minutes
EASY INSTALLATION - Product Size: 21.65”L× 5.9”W× 41.34”H(55×15×105 cm); The installation tool is included. Snap-together design assembles in minutes
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cloverpage2 · 1 year
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Some Of Harley Handlebars and Risers
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cloudyflower5 · 2 years
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Nine Methods Create Better Jfk Shuttle With The Assistance Of Your Canine
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Day 9: Eat every 3 to four hours. Rates begin at $20 a day for Economy and $29 a day for regular fee parking. Please Observe: Curbside Parking isn't allowed at any of the terminals. The Central Parking Garage is handy to all terminals. Don’t need guaranteed parking, however still want quick access to the airport’s parking facilities? Dropped off you will need to choose a time. The subway plus bus transfer might cost round $2.75 but shouldn't be advisable to folks with heavy luggage and time shortage. In the bigger shops chances are you'll discover commission salespeople who will just give you enough time of day to close their sale and see you stroll out the door with an enormous purchase. A Jan. 29 order by the Centers for Disease Control spelled it out what it means for passengers - if it strikes, flies or floats and the public rides it, face coverings must be worn. If you haven’t been wearing a facial covering on public transit, airliners or in federal buildings, the federal government is officially telling you to mask-up or else.
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The U.S. is not the solely nation skeptical of electronic voting techniques, however I'm glad the government is pushing ahead with them. This bus schedule is efficient April 27th to January 4, 2017. Bus service is provided to a transfer point positioned at Daniels Parkway and U.S. Our Passenger Service Assistants can be found all through the airport. Architects all the time say, ‘A good design requires much less signage because you can see the place you’re going.’ Signage just isn't as mandatory to tell you there’s a bathroom two toes in entrance of you. AIRPORT WORKER: Yes, there's one right in entrance right here. For airport shuttle from westchester to jfk on the airport route, click here. AIRPORT WORKER: Sure, that is proper. All airport parking areas have each hourly and every day rates. All the time take your parking ticket with you. If you would like the reassurance of a concrete-mounted fence without the risk of rot, use a rust-proof metal like stainless steel or aluminum, or go for low-upkeep vinyl posts.There are plenty of different methods to set wooden fence posts, and we’ll check out these one at a time.Can Fence Posts Be Set in Dirt? We can even look to lots of the movements of our age. In the event you join the Lexus Parking PASSport Gold program you may get unique parking privileges.
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sinoracking · 1 month
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Foldable Rolling Containers: Your Ultimate Storage Solution
In the pursuit of storage and organization, simplicity meets innovation with foldable rolling containers. These nifty contraptions are the unsung heroes of tidiness, offering a convenient way to stow away items with ease. Let's delve into the wonders of these containers and why they're a must-have for any home or workplace.
What Are Foldable Rolling Containers?
Imagine a sturdy box on wheels that you can fold up when not in use. That's essentially what a Foldable rolling container is. Made from durable materials like plastic or metal, these containers are designed to hold various items securely while offering the added convenience of mobility.
Why You Need One
To save space: One of the most significant advantages of foldable storage containers is their ability to save space. When not in use, simply fold them flat and tuck them away in a closet or under a bed. Say goodbye to bulky storage bins taking up precious space in your home.
Easy Transportation: Need to move items from one room to another? No problem! With built-in wheels, these containers glide effortlessly across floors, making transporting heavy or bulky items a breeze. Whether you're rearranging furniture or doing a bit of spring cleaning, a foldable container will be your faithful companion.
Versatile Storage Solutions: From toys and clothes to tools and office supplies, these containers can accommodate a wide range of items. Their sturdy construction ensures that your belongings stay safe and secure, whether you're storing them in a closet or rolling them around a workshop.
Durable: Despite their lightweight design, these rolling containers are built to last. Made from high-quality materials, they can withstand the rigors of everyday use without breaking a sweat. Say goodbye to flimsy storage solutions that fall apart after a few months.
Cost-Effective: Investing in a rolling container is a cost-effective way to keep your home or workplace organized. Instead of constantly buying new storage bins or shelving units, you can rely on these containers for years to come.
Practical Uses
• Home Organization: Tame the clutter in your closets, bedrooms, and garage with Foldable rolling container. Use them to store seasonal clothing, holiday decorations, and sports equipment.
• Office Storage: Keep your workspace tidy and efficient by using these containers to store files, supplies, and equipment. Their mobility makes it easy to reconfigure your office layout as needed.
• Retail Storage: Businesses can benefit greatly from foldable containers in their backrooms or storage areas. These containers are ideal for storing excess inventory, organizing merchandise, and easily transporting items to the sales floor.
• Event Management: Whether you're organizing a trade show, conference, or community event, foldable rolling containers can be indispensable. Use them to transport event supplies, signage, promotional materials, and more with ease, streamlining setup and breakdown processes.
• Moving and Packing: When it's time to relocate, foldable containers can simplify the moving process. Use them to pack and transport belongings safely, reducing the need for cardboard boxes and ensuring items stay secure during transit.
• Outdoor Activities: Take advantage of foldable containers for outdoor adventures like camping, picnics, or beach trips. Easily transport camping gear, picnic supplies, or beach essentials to your desired location without straining your back.
• Classroom Organization: Teachers can utilize foldable rolling containers to keep classrooms neat and organized. Store books, art supplies, educational materials, and teaching aids, and effortlessly move them around for various activities and lessons.
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Foldable rolling container offers a practical and versatile storage solution for a variety of settings. Their space-saving design, mobility, durability, and cost-effectiveness make them an essential addition to any home, workplace, or event space. Whether you're looking to declutter your living space, streamline operations in your business, or simplify your next move, these containers are sure to make your life easier and more organized.
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