#also these are the four i know the most about

[nerdygirlramblings]

Hello! Ive been binging poly!141 and I keep coming back to your writing for my fix (because by now its basically an addiction😅)

I had this idea that the 141 are together with a civilian reader. And civilian reader works in retail, part time, and is mostly at home. Normally, they would be home by the time their boys came home, welcoming them with open arms, a hot plate of food, and time to rest and relax. But this time, the 141 get home early and realize where reader works: Walmart (or equivalent). Reader has been keeping this a secret cause they know its not cute like a coffee shop or cool. Its just their job. And now the most important men in their life know. Im thinking the 141 found out because they went grocery shopping and happened to come across reader or something similar to that.

I work at Walmart and it sucks🥲 thought that maybe something like this might help😅

Tysm, nonny! So happy to hear you like the writing. I hope this does your idea justice. (Walmart doesn't have stores in the UK, but they own ASDA.)

Also, thank you for my first request! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

pure fluff, bad accents (per usual)

Your boys find out you work part-time at ASDA on a random rainy Thursday in March.

You don't really need a job. All four of your lovers are officers with the British army. Prior to you, they all lived in base barracks. Prior to you, they lived fairly Spartan existences. Prior to you, most of their income sat in the bank, quietly accumulating.

They have plenty of money saved up that they love using to spoil you, when you let them. You know that if you asked, they'd give you everything, but you draw the line about asking them for an allowance like some tradwife. You want some pocket money of your own. Thus, the part-time job at the ASDA in town.

You're a people person, good at handling big personalities. You need to be to keep up with your boys. Between John's need for control, Simon's stoic dominance, Johnny's aggressive enthusiasm, and Kyle's blinding charisma, you aren't some shrinking violet. Within a week of your hire, your manager watches how you weather a nasty piece of work trying to demand concessions you aren't permitted to give and immediately puts you in customer service.

You're nearly unflappable in the face of frustrated pensioners and harried parents and entitled young professionals. Over and over, you're the one they call when a customer is going spare. Which is how your boys find out about your job.

They've been deployed for over two weeks, and you have no idea when they'll return. John had originally said they'd be gone for at least a month, so you aren't expecting them home any time soon. However, they'd come home much earlier than anyone thought, and they wanted to surprise you.

You're always so good about making the house feel like a home, with your bright smile and warm laughter, your home cooked food and soft touches in decor. You make them feel like people, not weapons, and they want to return the favor. This last deployment had been hard, and all four of your boys were missing your sweet voice and tender care. They wanted to show you that they loved and cared for you the way you always showed your love and care for them.

It was Johnny's suggestion to prep a meal for you as both a surprise and a thank you. After debrief, they pile into the car and decide to stop at ASDA for everything they need before heading home to surprise you. It's John who causes the code call.

You hear Susan's voice over the store-wide address system. "We could use a little Sunshine in the floral department." That's your cue. You finish with the pensioner at your till as Jacob, your manager, comes over to relieve you.

You take a deep breath and square your shoulders. In your experience, a Sunshine call in floral is a man angry the store doesn't have the fancy arrangements listed on the website. You wish the signage on the site would be more clear that the beautiful bouquets are online orders only. It would save you having to explain why the offers in store are so limited.

You hear him before you see him, smokey voice grumbling, "But if they show the bloody thing on the site as available, you should have it hear." You'd recognize the voice anywhere. He's not angry, not really, but Susan doesn't know that. Add in the sheer size of him, and Simon looming over his shoulder, it's no wonder she called for support.

You have never wanted to walk away from a situation as much as you want to right now, but before you can make an escape, Susan notices you over John's shoulder. Her little wave is enough for your men to notice, and they turn as one to see you coming towards them. Immediately their demeanor shifts. Simon's back sags as though his strings were cut, leaving him loose-limbed. John stands a little straighter, chin up as if to impress you. They've both broken out in smiles, though Simon's are only evidenced by the laugh lines you know to look for. It's only as you get close do they zero in on the badge on your shirt.

"I've got this, Susan," you say to your co-worker. "Jacob's on my till. Can you cover?"

Susan wrings her hands. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay and-"

"They're nothing I can't handle," you tell her, cutting off her worried rambles. There's a cheeky glint in your eye as you flick your gaze at your men. You clap your hands together and say, "Right, let's get this settled, then."

Susan takes one quick look between you and the now slightly less intimidating men and heads towards the front of the store.

Once she's out of earshot, John's face breaks into a frown. "What're you doing here, love?" He glances at your name on your chest again. "You work here?" He sounds almost hurt by the revelation. You can tell Simon wants to reach for you, and the only thing stopping him is you working.

You hear heavy footfalls behind you as Johnny's Scottish lilt reaches your ears. "Och, Cap! Ye said ye'd only be a moment. Gaz and I had a hell of a time getting the trolley on its lift ta find ye. How hard is it to buy bon..." His question dies on his lips as you turn around. "Bonnie?" He, too, sounds hurt to find you working here.

You can see Kyle over Johnny's shoulder, confusion written across his features. This is not how you wanted your boys to find out about your job, if you ever wanted them to actually find out. You thought maybe you'd surprise them with tickets to Hereford FC's opening game in a few months. And if they asked how you afforded them, you could handle this conversation then, but it's out of your hands now.

And as much as you don't want to have this conversation, especially not in the middle of the floral department, you can't stop the wide grin at seeing your boys again, home and whole.

"Hi, boys," you say, opening your arms. Disappointed he might be about finding you here, Johnny's no fool. He immediately steps into your embrace, and the others quickly follow suit. You're swallowed up by the smell and feel of them. The hug lasts one minute. Then two. Then they all slowly step back.

You can see the questions and cut them off before they get started. "I have another three hours before I'm off. We can talk at home, and I'll tell you anything you want to know."

John nods first. He recognizes your tone. You won't let them derail you for answers now, and they would be wasting their breath to try. "You heard the lady, lads. Let's get home."

They start to walk away when you tease, "Captain? Was there a reason you were arguing with Susan about the flowers?"

He halts his steps and turns to you, flush creeping up his neck. He brings his hand up to rub it as he says, "Er, I, we, wanted to get ya something nice, but they don't have the same ones as online."

You melt a little, watching the way your men shift nervously behind their captain. You smile softly and reach over, plucking a bouquet of rainbow poms from the rack. "These are what I usually get for myself when you're away."

John takes them gently from your hand and passes them to Gaz to put in the trolley. "We'll see you at home, love," he murmurs, leaning over briefly to kiss your cheek. Simon kisses the top of your head, fabric brushing your hair. Johnny pulls you in for another bruising hug and kisses your other cheek. Gaz puts his hands on your waist, drinking in the sight of you, before taking your hands in his and kissing your palms.

You watch them leave, wondering how you'll make it through the rest of your shift.

Three hours and fifteen minutes later, you cross the threshold of your shared home to the most delicious scents wafting from the kitchen. After slipping your shoes off next to the piles of boots at the door, you follow your nose back to the kitchen and the spread laid out on the large wood-topped island. There's a roast and mushy peas and mashed potatoes and stewed carrots and battered cod and crisps and spinach all surrounding the flowers you'd suggested, nestled in the vase you love most, the Caithness one Johnny'd bought you on your first trip with them to Scotland.

At the table, your men sit, plates made for everyone, waiting on you. They've changed since you saw them. Gone are any traces of fatigues and tactical gear. Instead they're all in casual civvies, truly home for the first time in nearly three weeks. Simon stands as you come in and pulls out your chair, smile on his scarred lips. "Come sit, doll," he tells you, not quite an order.

You look quickly around. "Let me change," you say, tugging at your uniform top. "I won't be but a minute." You back out of the room before they can stop you. You hurry to your bedroom, pulling your top off as you go. Once behind the door, you slip from your trousers into comfortable leggings and a large jumper, one of Kyle's you think.

By the time you make it back to the kitchen, your men are more than a little antsy. Simon's smile is a little strained, Johnny is fidgeting, Kyle keeps glancing between you and John, and John is staring at you. Your chair is still out. He waves a hand at it, and gently says, "Come sit, love." It's couched as request, but you know a command from your lover when you hear it.

You take your seat at the table. "Listen-" you start, but John cuts you off.

"Are we not providing for ya, love?" You see the hurt in his eyes, how much it bothers him to think he, they, aren't doing enough for you.

"Oh, John, dear, no!" you reply, putting your hand over his on the table. "It's not that at all."

"Then what?" Simon asks.

You look at them all, the expectant faces waiting to hear how they failed you. "I get restless sometimes. I love you, and I love our life. I'm happy to take care of the house and make sure you're all fed after a long day. But I wasn't built for sitting around doing nothing. I like people; being home on my own all day can get lonely. Especially when you're deployed. I also like having my own pocket money."

John opens his mouth, and you know what he's about to say, so you continue. "I know you'd give me any money I need or want, but I like having my money. Money I earned myself." You look around at them, willing them to understand. "It's only part time. Helps me keep a little busy and have a little extra to spoil you and me with."

Johnny is frowning, but you see Kyle, head cocked, looking at you as a puzzle. "I think I understand," he says softly. "You were making you way just fine before us, and you gave up everything for us."

At his words, the crease between John's brow deepens, and you're sure he's remembering the job you had, that you'd somewhat enjoyed, when you'd first met them. You'd been working at RAF Lakenheath, living in a cozy flat in Cambridge, near The Backs, when the 141 had been coming through the base after an op. An injury had put Kyle in the med center for a week, and while he could have been transported to Hereford once stable, Laswell had worked it out for the whole team to have some R&R near the base.

You'd quite literally run into John one day, rushing to your office, after which he suggested lunch as an apology. You quickly became close with all four, smitten with them from the start. In turn, they fell hard for you. They wooed you over the course of several weeks, stopping through Lakenheath on deployments to spend some time with you. Six months in and you were completely gone on all four of them, so when they'd asked you to move to Hereford, you did without ever looking back. But it meant giving up the life you'd led.

Somewhere along the way, your happiness overshadowed all you'd left behind. After a few weeks, being home alone while your men worked started to feel isolating. You liked being a little busy, and there weren't enough projects around the house to keep you busy enough. You'd always been independent, but you didn't want to be stuck in a job with long hours anymore. You wanted to be home for your men. So you'd found the job at ASDA.

Kyle reaches over to where you hand is still on John's. "I'm sorry we didn't ask how you were coping us being gone all day," he says. He looks you in the eye as he continues. "I understand wanting to do something, wanting to be a little busy, and if this makes you happy, then I'm all for it, doll." He gives you a small smile and squeezes your and John's hand.

"Gaz is right," Simon rumbles. "We were so happy to have you here we didn't think about what you did all alone all day." He puts a heavy hand on your thigh, the warmth of him seeping through your thin leggings. "'m glad you have something to keep you from getting lonely."

"Sorry, hen," Johnny murmurs, just above a whisper. "We didnae think a' ye enough." You smile widely at him.

"Johnny, you think of me all the time. This isn't about neglect at all!" You try to catch his eye, but he's looking hard at the table in front of him. "You did nothing wrong, love," you tell him gently.

He looks at you, blue eyes bright. "Ye sure?" You've never seen him this nervous before, and you break a little.

"I'm sure love."

He smiles then, a little smile, but it brightens his face and shifts the mood in the room. You look at John who's been surprisingly quiet this whole time.

He's smiling, but it's a little sad. "I know ya said we didn't do anything wrong, but we feel like we did. We didn't notice you were bored, didn't ask if you were lonely." He flips his hand over under yours and threads your fingers with his. "Yer giving us a gift by not blaming us, and we'd be stupid not to take it, even though it feels like yer giving us an out. Thank you." He brings your hand to his lips and kisses it softly.

"Thank you. I was worried you'd be mad," you admit.

"Never could make us mad with something like this, hen," Johnny reassures you. "I'm sorry we had to spoil your day is all."

You turn back to look at the food on the island. "You didn't spoil my day. You made it. You're home early, and you made such a lovely spread. I think we should tuck in, yeah?"

Simon chuckles. "Point made, doll," he says, scooping a heaping helping of mash onto his fork. The rest take it as a sign to start eating too.

The room is silent save for the sounds of food savored until John pipes up, "Why'd ya come to florals, love? We might have missed ya altogether if not for that."

You giggle. "The sunshine call, John."

"Yeah?" He clearly doesn't understand.

"It's the shop call for a difficult customer. When I'm on shift, it's my job to handle those." You look at each of your lovers in turn. "Seems I've got a knack for dealing with muppets," you tell them with a smirk.

[motorsportbarbie13]

Aftermath - Chapter 5

Aftermath - MV33 - Chapter 1 Aftermath - Chapter 2 Aftermath - Chapter 3 Aftermath - Chapter 4 Master List

When Lando leaves you heartbroken after you get tired of trying to make something out of nothing for far too long, Max steps in to help you pick up the pieces.

warnings: this chapter contains language and descriptions that illustrate abuse (mental and emotional). please don't engage with my work if you find any of the topics triggering. lando is, once again, an absolute asshole in this. i'd also like to point out that this is a character i am writing, i in no way am insinuating or implying the real lando is like this in any way.

pairing: max verstappen x leclercsister!reader

word count: 4k or something like that?

(Everyone say ‘thank you’ to @lestapiastrisgirl for beta reading and helping me through late night plot crisis so this can come out today!!)

f1.gossip.source posted

f1.gossip.source It's been months since @/Lando and @/MissLeClerc have been spotted togtether and we're starting to wonder...are they even together anymore?! Lando was spotted out alone in Monaco, looking annoyed at fans calling his name while his (ex???) girlfriend was papped out and about with none other than...Max Verstappen. Again. Rumors about the LeClerc sister and Dutch driver started to swirl right around the time her and Lando stopped being seen out in public...What do we think, chat??? Has little miss leclerc finally ditched the cocky British pilot for a new Dutch beau??? user029 maybe she got tired of having to parent her boyfriend??? user220 if it's true, she's really upgraded. 4 time world champion vs...what??? 4 time race winner. please. user0298 he never supported her art or anything, i'm not surprised she's moved on. max always looks smitten with her.

“Lando, you have got to get this under control.��� The head of McLaren’s communications team hisses, her glare shooting daggers at the driver who’s just walked into the the hospitality building ahead of the race in Belgium. 

Lando glances up from his phone, face pale and eyes worried. “How the fuck am I supposed to control what the gossip pages post?” 

Marina throws her hands up in the air as she paces, her McLaren team kit wrinkled from lack of sleep thanks to the British driver. In the four weeks since your argument with Lando after Austria, things have only gotten worse. You’re still not talking to him and he still hasn’t figured out where the hell you’re living. You’re not staying with Charles and Alexandra or Jade, he’s been subtly watching both buildings. He knows you’re still in Monaco because you’ve been papped out with your family and friends but most maddeningly Max Verstappen. 

Everyone seems to have noticed you’re not living with Lando anymore, your appearances in his streams have dwindled down to nothing. Fewtrell has had to start banning people form his chat because they won’t stop asking about you and what’s going on. Everyone knows that something went down but you’re straight up refusing to behave like an adult and come back to Lando, where you belong and it’s infuriating. 

“You can’t, obviously.” Marina sighs, sitting down at one of the high top tables in the middle of the suite. 

Around her, the Thursday afternoon crew of engineers and communications people buzz, all prepping for their weekends. Everyone seems to be acting normal but Lando can feel their glares on his back as he walks through the building. They all know he’s causing the entire team grief by causing so much drama with you, taking the attention away from the decent start to the year they’d had before all hell had broken loose a few months ago. 

“But,” She continues, leveling a glare at Lando. “You either need to bite the bullet and release a joint statement with her announcing your breakup or you need to get her to the track this weekend and make a big show of a united front. It’s up to you Lando, but you need to do something. I can’t keep saying ‘no comment’ whenever we’re asked about the distraction this is causing the team.” 

Lando pulls at his curls, like hell he’s going to admit that you’d left him. He supposed he could go rogue and release a statement without you. That way he could control the narrative and try to get the fans back on his side if he made something up like a cheating scandal or something. The moment that the thought flutters through his mind, he forces it out. For some fucking reason, the fans seem to have a soft spot for you and it’s maddening. Lando knew there was no way he could get public opinion on his side, not with how he was getting ripped apart on socials right now. 

“We’re not broken up.” He bites out, taking a sip out of his water bottle as he contemplates what he can do. 

Marina glances up from her phone, brow lifted in question. “That’s not what it looks like here.” She turns her phone towards Lando and shows him a photo of you descending the stairs of a private jet that’s just landed in Belgium. In front of you, already down the stairs and waiting on the tarmac for you is your brother with Leo cradled in his arms. 

And behind you? A fiery rage burns bright and hot in Lando’s chest when he sees who’s behind you. 

Fucking Max Verstappen. 

The look you’re giving him makes his heart twist and for the first time since this entire thing began, Lando actually misses you. He misses the way you used to smile up at him like that, like your entire world revolved Lando and no one else. He missed the way your eyes would follow him around a room, how your body would center towards his. The way you looked at Max was how you used to look at him and it made jealousy twist violently deep in Lando’s gut just looking at the photo. 

“I’ll take care of it.” Lando spits before stalking off to the privacy of his drivers room. 

f1.gossip.source posted

f1.gossip.source Alexandra, Charles, and his little sister were seen arriving in Belgium this afternoon on Max Verstappen's private jet. It's yet another instance where the LeClerc sister was spotted without boyfriend Lando Norris, sparking new breakup rumors. Neither party has confirmed if they're still together, with McLaren PR insisting that the personal lives of their drivers are off limits. user019 honestly, I'm here for a LeClerc sister & Max relationship. >>>user028 me too. at least Max seems to actually like her, unlike Lando user0029 I mean, we all can see it. Why can't they just confirm it already??? user2333 fully on board the 'get her away from Lando train' ROOTING FOR YOU MAX!!! Get your girl!!! user029 my friend was out at the restaurant they were all at a few weeks ago and said that Lando crashed the dinner but left after a few minutes looking PISSED. >>>user029 honestly, Lando is kind of unhinged rn. get over her my man, move onnnnnnn!

“I can’t believe you got me to agree to come this weekend.” You grumble as you follow Max towards the paddock gates Friday morning before practice. 

“You’ve barely been to any races this year and it’s almost the end of July!” Max shoots over his shoulder, grinning like an idiot he’s so happy you decided to come this weekend. 

“I was at Monaco!” You protest lamely, shoving your elbow into your brother’s ribs when he laughs. 

“You live in Monaco, that doesn’t count Little Dove.” Charles chuckles, rubbing at the sore spot where you’d just assaulted him. 

“Whatever.” You mutter, rolling your eyes. 

After arriving in Belgium last night, you had gone straight to your hotel room, needing a bit of alone time ahead of what you were sure was going to be a stressful weekend. As usual, you’d been papped arriving on Max’s jet, which you were certain Lando had seen because the moment you had checked your messages in the SUV Max had rented for your little group, there had been a text waiting for you from him. 

I know you probably don’t want to see me and I get that. I’m sorry, from the bottom of my heart. Can we please get together this weekend and talk? Somewhere neutral if that’s what you want…

As you settled into the hotel room that was yours for the weekend, a war was being fought in your brain. On one hand, you didn’t trust a single thing coming from Lando’s mouth. Not a single thing. He hadn’t given you any reason to trust anything that he said for months, so why should you start now? But on the other hand…

On the other hand, you and Lando had so much history. His message seemed remorseful. You knew everyone in your life would kill you if you even entertained the idea of getting back with him but somewhere deep in your chest a little voice was saying maybe you should hear him out. He was finally leaving you alone, finally backing off, why did he have to pop up right when you thought you had finally gotten him fully out of your system?

You didn’t tell anyone Lando had texted you. Had been texting you all morning as well. You knew no one would understand. But you also hadn’t returned a single text either. The energy that responding to Lando would take was something that you just didn’t have today. 

Your little group is captured by photographers as you walk in, a few even call out your name asking where you’ll be spending your time this weekend. Since dating Lando, you liked to split your time between the McLaren garage and Ferrari but this weekend was going to be different. Your VIP pass had Charles’ face and name on the back, not Lando’s. You had credentials from Ferrari like normal but this morning, Max had also slipped a Red Bull card around your neck, telling you if you got sick of looking at all that red this weekend, you could spend time with him. 

“Are you going to come to the dark side this weekend and use those Red Bull credentials to whip up some gossip?” Max murmurs in your ear, watching as Charles trots off ahead of you after Leo. 

You bump your shoulder with his, rolling your eyes and laughing lightly. “Stop.”

Mischief plays in Max’s pale blue eyes as he smiles down at you, enjoying the way your cheeks flush under his attention. Ever since the race in Austria a few weeks ago, you and the Dutch driver had been spending a lot of time together, all casual but he’d really begun to look forward to the nights you spent curled up on his couch eating takeout and watching bad reality tv with him. 

Before he has a chance to reply though, he sees the color drain from your face as you freeze in the middle of the sidewalk. Whipping his head around, Max searches for what, or more accurately, who has spooked you. He already knows who he’s looking for so when his eyes settle on the McLaren driver standing just outside the sliding glass doors of the McLaren hospitality building across the paddock, his stomach lurches. 

You had known you’d see Lando this weekend. How could you not? This was literally his workplace too. There was no way to avoid him, you knew that but you hadn’t expected to see him so quickly and before you had managed to work out how to respond to his text from the night before. 

Your brother is between where you stand and McLaren’s hospitality so he clocks Lando staring after you at about the same time as you and Max. Turning on his heel, he scoops up Leo and makes a bee line back to where you stand, utterly frozen. 

“Dovie.” Max coos in your ear, twining his fingers with yours in an attempt to pull you out of the state you’re in. “Hey, sweet girl, look at me.” 

You ignore him, gaze locked on Lando’s frozen frame. 

Charles steps in between you and Lando, instantly cutting off your line of sight. This seems to yank you back to reality and your brother snaps into action. “Shit. I’ve got a meeting in five minutes. I don’t want her alone.” Your brother sounds panicked, like the way you’re just staring blankly ahead is really freaking him out. 

So, he improvises. “Here, take Leo and go take a walk. There’s tons of open space on the other side of the paddock.” Charles presses the small dog into your hands and you drop your gaze away from Lando for the first time in several moments. 

Your gaze drops to where your hand is still clutched in Max’s larger one. The steady warmth from his presence grounds you, allowing you to pull in a full breath for the first time in several minutes. 

“No, she’s not going off on her own.” Max cuts in, tone sharp. “I’ve got some time before I need to be in the car. Come stay in Red Bull with me until practice, then you can watch from my garage, okay?” 

The force of his words leave little wiggle room for argument and Charles can’t help but smirk a little. He should have known Max would step right up to make sure you were taken care of. 

“Yeah.” You agree weakly, finally tearing your gaze away from Lando, who is still starting at you, light eyes sharp and observant. You can feel the way his gaze drops to where Max’s hand is curled around yours possessively. “Yeah, that sounds good.” 

Without waiting for Lando to get any more ideas like wanting to try to come talk to you, Max tugs on your hand. He knows you well enough by now to know that you need a distraction and you need it fast. “Come on, you said you wanted to stir up some gossip this weekend, well here’s your chance.” 

You laugh despite yourself, nuzzling your face into Leo’s soft fur. “I’m keeping the dog.” You tell your brother as you allow yourself to be led away by Max. All Charles does is nod, relieved to know that you’re in good hands while he’s busy. 

missleclerc posted

24,029 likes liked by maxverstappen1, charlesleclerc, redbullracing, and others missleclerc in my defense, I was kidnapped ☝🏻 maxverstappen1 whatever, you wanted to be there. >>>missleclerc lies. It was a hostage situation. >>>maxverstappen1 is that what the kids are calling it these days? >>>user299 chat, are they flirting in the comments??? WE CAN SEE YOU TWO charlesleclerc can't believe you subjected your nephew to this. please make sure you take a shower before dinner tonight. >>>missleclerc rude. user0209 ya know, I'm kinda here for this ship. >>>user987 did you see how utterly distracted Max was during the one interview where she walked past him? couldn't take his eyes off her >>>user0209 lando's gonna be crashing out after seeing that interview tonight >>>user3443 GOOD. bro deserves it

“I think you may need to roll me up to my room after that dinner.” You groan, rubbing at the food baby making your black leather skirt pinch painfully at your hips. 

After qualifying Saturday evening, when the boys were all finished with their media and team duties, Max had insisted that you, your brother, Alexandra and himself all go out to dinner. He’d wanted to insist it just be the two of you but he wasn’t blind to the gossip you two had stirred up in the paddock Friday afternoon so he’d figured bringing your brother and his girlfriend along would be a bit safer. 

“I think I ate my weight in spaghetti.” Alexandra groans beside you as you plod towards the front doors of the hotel. “Carry me up to the room please, Cha?” She coos, throwing her arms around your brother’s neck as if she can’t go on one step more.

 Charles laughs, snaking his arms around her waist and pulls her close, dropping a kiss on her forehead, a gesture so tender and intimate you have to turn away. Your gaze immediately connects with Max who is standing a few paces behind your brother and his girlfriend. A small smile tips up at the corner of his full lips when you make eye contact at him and your stomach swoops at the affection for you in his eyes. 

You’re imagining things, you think instantaneously. There’s no way Max sees you as anything other than a friend, after everything that you’ve endured while he’s watched. How could anyone like Max be attracted to someone who had spent an entire year drowning in a failing relationship? It was likely a pity smile, something he gives you because he feels sorry that you haven’t found what your brother has found in Alexandra. 

“There you are…” A smooth British accent interrupts your thoughts, jarring you out of your spiral. “You stopped answering my texts.” Lando says pointedly as he joins your little group in the lobby of the hotel. 

Your eyes shutter closed as you blow out a breath. You had been hoping to avoid this confrontation all together but it was just another nail in the coffin of why Max wouldn’t even want to begin to get involved with you in the first place. Why would he willingly want to be with someone who was still so intertwined with her ex still? You’ve spent so long with Lando, were so intertwined with him it would certainly be easier to just go back to him, wouldn’t it? Maybe he was all you deserved after wasting three years of your life. 

“I was at dinner, Lando. It’s rude to text during a meal.” You carefully control the tone of your voice, not wanting to instigate yet another public altercation with him. 

“Ah, yes. I’m sure the company was riveting.” His eyes flicker over to where Max stands, stiff and unmoving, the smile that he’d just been showering you with totally gone from his face. “So, what do you say, can we finally talk like two adults?” 

“She doesn’t want to talk to you, Norris.” Charles cuts in, voice sharp and short. 

“I think your sister can answer for herself, LeClerc.” There’s a challenge in Lando’s eyes that you don’t miss and you know you have about five seconds to diffuse the situation before it gets out of hand. Again. 

Placing your hand on Lando’s elbow, you tug him away. “If you promise to chill out and actually listen to me, we can go to the bar and get a drink. One drink, Lando. Can you do that?” 

If you had been looking at Max then, you would have seen the light flicker out of his eyes. He’s grateful that his hands are tucked away in his pockets when he hears your words because the way the ball up into tight fists would be embarrassing had anyone seen it. He wants to say something, anything, that might convince you to not walk away with him. He wants to tell you how he’s feeling, how this afternoon with you in his drivers room and then garage was the best start to a race weekend he’d had in recent memory. He wants to beg you not to go with Lando. 

But he can’t. He can’t because he still hasn’t worked up the courage to tell you how he feels. Max is stuck in this painful sort of limbo where you two spend time together and he craves any bit of attention he can glean from you but it’s not enough for him to risk your fragile state of being right now. He knows you’re still recovering from leaving Lando. Three years is a long time to spend with someone, even if the last year was as painful as Lando had made it for you. He knows you’re not ready for him to tell you how he’s feeling but he’s afraid if he doesn’t, you’ll go running back to Lando. 

While the internal debate about what to do with his feelings rages on inside, Max watches as a cat-like grin spreads slowly across Lando’s face. He’s won. Lando’s won and they both know it. 

“Of course, baby.” 

You bristle at the name but without the energy to fight him, all you do is roll your eyes. Max’s mask of indifference somehow staying in place when he hears the nickname, but it tears him up on the inside. He’s not sure how he manages it. 

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Thanks for dinner, Max.” Taking a step towards Max, you fold yourself into him, enjoying the way his arms come around your waist without hesitation. The hug is firm and he holds onto you for several moments longer than necessary. 

 “I can stay down here if you want me to.” He murmurs in your ear, his breath tickling the shell of your ear, sending a cool shiver of pleasure down your spine. 

“I’m a big girl, I can handle him.” 

“It’s not you I’m worried about.” He responds, looking down at you. You’re surprised to see a stark look of concern all over his face, like he’s genuinely worried about you. 

“Max, I’m fine. It’s just one drink.” 

But Max knows Lando. It’s not just going to be one drink. But what other choice does he have? Reluctantly, he releases you and takes a step back, forcing himself out of arms length. You instantly miss the grounding warmth of his body and fight to keep your expression neutral. 

Max watches you walk away, shoulder brushing with Lando’s and has to resist the urge to rub at the painful clenching sensation that wraps itself around his heart. 

“You don’t have to watch her leave.” Charles murmurs, standing off to the side with a worried looking Alexandra. They both share Max’s opinion that this is a bad idea but like Max, what else can they say?

Max scrubs at his face, suddenly so overwhelmingly exhausted that all he wants to do is climb into bed and sleep until the race tomorrow. “What am I supposed to do, Charles?” He throws his hands up in defeat as you disappear around the corner just as Lando’s arm slips around your waist. “I don’t have a single claim on her, she’s not mine to miss.” 

His stomach twists painfully at the thought of having to go back to his hotel room knowing you’re touching him. 

“She won’t go back to him.” Charles says with more confidence than Max can muster up himself. “She’s been doing so well lately and we all see it’s partially because of you, mate.”

“Don’t give up on her, Max. Not yet.” Alexandra offers quietly, stepping closer to Charles before reaching out and placing a hand on Max’s shoulder. “She’s stronger than we all think but she’s going to need your patience right now. It’ll be okay.” 

The way it physically hurt watching you walk away had alarm bells ringing in Max’s head. He hadn’t realized just how attached to you he’d become in the time since you’d left Lando and it terrified him. If you went back to Lando tonight, he had this gut feeling he’d lose you forever and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to endure that. 

Max barely sleeps that night, tossing and turning for hours trying to convince himself he hadn’t just watched you walk right out of his life again. He knew he was, once again, getting ahead of himself and that he needed to wait before going into full spiral mode but he couldn’t quite get himself there. 

By the time he’s downstairs in the hotel lobby the next morning, waiting for the car that Red Bull had hired for him, he’s exhausted and on the brink of biting someone’s head off. 

“You doing okay over there, Verstappen? You seem a little…irritated.” 

Max turns and has to stifle a groan. “Why can’t you just leave well enough alone, Lando?” 

Lando has the nerve to look confused, brows furrowing as he tilts his head to the side. “I have no idea what you’re on about, mate.” 

It takes every ounce of control Max has honed over the years not to punch the British driver square in the face. “Why are you so fixated on her now that she’s finally trying to get away from you?” 

Lando smirks, quick and ugly, before he shakes his head. “See, now that’s where you’re wrong Max.” He reaches over and pats at Max’s shoulder patronizingly. “I don’t think she really wants to get away form me anymore. Not after last night.” 

It feels like the breath has been sucked out of Max’s lungs at Lando’s words. “What the fuck are you talking about?” He hisses, heat creeping up his neck. 

“You’re a smart man, Max. Use that big brain of yours. I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.” Lando grins like the Cheshire Cat as he shrugs. “Oh look, my ride’s here. Good luck out there today, Verstappen.” 

Without waiting for a response because he knows full well he’s caught Max completely off guard, Lando saunters off, hands deep in his pockets, without a second look back at the Dutch driver. 

Tag list: @shelbyteller, @martygraciesversion381, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @linnygirl09 @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream @daemyratwst @dramaticpiratellamas @mochimommy2002 @llando4norris @iamaunknownsecret @maxivstappen @imlonelydontsendhelp @nina-or-anna-or-nora @a1leexxa @littlegrapejuice @sunflowervol18 @freyathehuntress @finn-dot-com @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @chirasama @lauralarsen @dr3wstarkey @saskiaalonso @rbv3rstappen @ilovechickenwings @guaaafiiburg @mcmuppet @mindless-rock @piastri-fvx @mel164 @schumi-angel @myescapefromthislife @supertrashbread @sunny44 @tinystudentblaze-stuff @sarx164

[corpsedogs]

jason todd x f!reader (based on this ask)

✿ kitty cat fever — jason has a soft spot for kittens

Jason was completely drained after a week-long mission, now all he wanted to do is go home and place you in his arms.

It wasn’t often that he’d take long missions that took a week or so, considering that sometimes he can’t survive 3 days without you, but it wasn’t like he could ignore his duties.

Finally, Jason stood in front of your shared apartment, practically itching to get home and relax. But as he opened the door, he saw a small little kitten mewling in front of him.

He frowns.

“Jason!” you called out with a smile, at least you were here. His expression softens as he sees you and pulls you into a very tight hug.

Jason buried his face in your hair, “I missed you.” is what he always says when he comes home. Jason pressed a kiss in your temple as you rested your head on his shoulder, “I missed you too.” you said, melting in his embrace

As he was about to say more, his tired eyes widened as he saw four scrawny kittens crawling towards you, with its mother watching from the sofa.

He released you from his grasp, staring at the small little devils pawing and meowing “Baby,” he furrows his brows “What is this?” he asked, looking at you.

“My friend is out of town for a month, so she’s looking for a babysitter, aren’t they just adorable?” you smiled, picking one small kitten in your hands as you showed it to him.

The kitten stared at him, in his head he could hear the little thing telling him, ‘I have replaced you, I belong here now.’

Jason didn’t want to deal with this right now.

He lets out a sigh and walks past you “I just want to lie down right now.” he grunts, you shrugged as you crouched down to play with the kits.

“These things are just gonna make a mess.” He complained as he took a seat on the sofa. Jason rubbed his temples, he had been running around the past week and now he has to chase down kittens all over your place? What a warm welcome home.

You caught him brooding in the corner of your eye as you turned your gaze to him, “Oh, come on Jay.” you said “They’re harmless.”

Jason glared at you, that usually worked. But unfortunately this time you were too overwhelmed by the small kittens running around, too busy playing with them that you didn’t notice the glare he was giving you.

He looked at you, Jason was a little disappointed that you didn’t seem to notice and that you were more distracted by the kittens.

If he were to be honest, he was a little jealous. He wanted to spend time with you, he’s been gone for almost a week, but you had your hands full with these kittens.

The mother cat sits right next to him, looking at him as if she understands him.

Jason looked at the cat but he was also too tired to say anything, instead he walked to the bedroom and dropped himself on the bed.

He thought he was at peace till he heard the sound of a cat purring.

What now?

He turned his head and saw the mom on the foot of the bed, looking at him. “What? I don’t have anything for you, go make your little devils stop running wild.” He grumbled as he turned around to cover his head with his arm.

The cat just moved forward and he could feel its presence next to him. He looked up from his arm as he saw it flopped right in front of him, dozing off.

It was tiring, just like him.

He took the cat, and brought it closer to him and he placed it on his chest. “You know, we may have a lot of similarities.” He mumbled as he began petting its head, the mom purred and did a soft meow.. which was probably the most girliest meow he has ever heard.

He soon dozed off and fell asleep.

It has been 3 hours since, and Jason has been asleep for a while. He could feel a hand caressing his hair and it felt wonderful. “Did you find someone else to take care of the kittens?” he asked, eyes still closed.

He could hear a small laugh and a smile crept on his face. He then could feel the bed dip beside him as you sat down, he could also feel your hand caressing his cheek as you kissed his temple.

Jason opens his eyes and sees you, “Hello.”

“Hello.” you greeted in return, he hummed in response as he wrapped an arm around your waist.

Jason pulled you down to lay next to him as he kisses your temple, “I missed you.” he repeated. “I missed you too.” you repeated as well, Jason buried his face in your hair once again, taking in your scent.

It felt good just being next to each other.

Meow.

Jason groaned as he slowly sat up. “What now?” he asked, annoyed.

He turned around and looked at the floor. There, looking up at him was one of the kittens. The small little thing was mewling as he moved its two front paws up as an attempt to climb the bed.

You tried to stifle a giggle, the sight of the kitten mewling and Jason glaring at it was just too funny for you. Jason didn’t share the same thought though, he looked at you and sighed, “It’s fine if you find them cute, but I'm starting to get annoyed.”

Jason takes the kitten by the scruff and places it on the bed.

You rested your cheek in your palm, “It likes you.” Jason didn’t reply as he just absentmindedly pets the kitten, the small feline curled up beside him, snuggling next to his side.

“How long are they gonna stay here?” Jason asks.

“A month.”

“…”

You placed a hand on his shoulder, “Come on, my friend needs a vacation and she can’t just leave them alone.” you said, “Plus, they’re cute.” As hard as he tries to ignore it, your puppy eyes were too much.

“As long as they don’t make too much noise, we can tolerate them.”

You smiled, cupping his face and pressing a kiss on his cheek “I love my boyfriend.” Jason rolls his eyes at the way you said it. He can’t help but smile, he knows that you said it just to tease him.

“Yeah, you better.” He replied.

After two weeks since the kittens came, Jason begrudgingly grew accustomed to their presence, although he still complains about them bothering him or getting everywhere.

Despite his constant complaining though, to your delight, Jason would often come back from patrol with new cat toys and treats. He thinks he’s being discreet about it, but you see how soft he is for these little creatures.

Jason sat on the couch, reading a book when a kitten started approaching him. This kitten was particularly the runt in the litter, he’d always get left out by its other siblings and at times he’d get a hissy fit.

This runty little kitten was also Jason’s favorite, he couldn’t help but find it adorable whenever it tried to run towards him but fell flat on its face because of its stubby little legs.

This time was no exception. The runt went up to him, mewling in annoyance and pawed at the edge of couch, trying to climb but it was unable to.

He looked down, seeing the kitten’s feeble attempt to climb. Jason dropped his book on his lap. He reached down and picked the kitten up, placing it on the couch next to him.

Jason hears the door open as he sees you coming inside the door. “I'm home.” you called out. He set his book aside and turned his head to see you, he can’t help but smile a little.

“Hey.” He greeted, he watched as you walk over the couch and dropped next to him. You glanced at the kitten in his lap as you scratched behind its ear, “This one really likes you.”

Jason snorted, “It just likes to bother me.”

He didn’t comment on how he’s grown fond of the runt, or how he often lets it lay in his lap whenever he’s sitting down on the couch. You looked around, “Where are the other kittens?”

Jason scoffs, “God knows where they are.” Jason answered. He looked around their living room, no sign of them. “Probably playing in the kitchen again.” You chuckled, “Those little rascals have been too hyper lately, they need someone to tire them up.”

Jason hummed in agreement. He has been getting tired as well, dealing with these little furballs around the house has been tiring. You leaned against the couch, “I'm tired though.” Jason wrapped his arm around your shoulder, “Try babysitting five cats.”

“You think you can get kids now?” you joked. Jason raised an eyebrow, but as he saw your teasing look he scoffed “Haha, very funny.” he rolled his eyes.

When it was time for the kittens to return home to their owner, Jason was secretly disappointed. He stayed inside the apartment, not wanting to show how much he wanted to keep them. Poor Jason.

He sat on the couch, leaning back with a frown on his face. It was quiet for once and Jason didn’t like it, he misses hearing the sounds of the little kittens running around and pestering him.

“I'm home.” you called out.

Jason’s head snapped up when he heard your voice. He looked over at you, his face still blank as ever. “You’re back.” He said bluntly, “Someones with me too.” you smiled as you showed him his favorite kitten.

As soon as he saw his favorite little runt in your arms, Jason’s eyes widened and he instantly straightened his back. “You brought him back?” he asked, he couldn’t hide the surprise in his voice.

You nodded, “My friend told me we could keep one. So I decided to bring him home.” Jason stared at you, then the kitten, then at you again. He looked so confused but he couldn’t be more happy, despite trying to hide his smile. He held out his hands.

“Give me.” he says. You chuckled and placed the kitten in his hands. Jason immediately held him close, petting his head gently. “I’m surprised you’re not mad.” You said, as you watched him with a smile on your face.

Jason looked up at you, holding the kitten close to his chest. “Why would I be mad? I love this little runt.” he admits. You sat next to him, giving the kitten a pet on its side.

“I know how much you’ve grown fond of them, so I had to get you your favorite.”

He slightly shrugs, “He’s my favorite, yeah.”

“Thank you.”

🐈 reblog or the cat gets crowbarred too

[augustisodd]

Thank you for the tag @annies-pie !

Huh. I don't know if I have any fun facts about myself. I'm generally not that interesting. I actually had to think hard about it, though not much came to mind...

Well. I'm a little embarrassed to say, that at 22 years old, I don't have any friends outside my siblings.. And I've never made any. I've always been awkward and weired around people... Though I'm getting better at communicating online lol.

Also, I'm the same height as Armin in season four lol... (which most sources estimate around 167cm or 5'6") d:

Edit update btw: My sister reminded me that I am very good at playing the Medic class from TF2. Or at least, I was at one time. I was number one on the leader board many times…. ‘:)

Anyway, no pressure tags: @cosmosoddyssey @azulmagpie @h0-0d @melimpostor @ladylaratybur @zuzusexytiems

(screw it what's a fun fact about yourself also @ people I'll go first I'm allergic to myself

@escapetheslaughter

@ugly-astral-taurus

@bees-official

@gremlininthedark

@bloodmoon-da-idiot

@multifandomcutie13 )

[aloof-cold-hands]

I’ve been admiring from a distance for a good bit but I’m a recent follower now that you’ve moved to tumblr, can you explain your poly ocs lore? I’m having a bit of a hard time piecing it together haha!

Absolutely! The original story is about four years old and began when I was a little too young to develop a proper story. I have since retconned the ending, which I believe has caused some confusion. The original ending was- what i believe to be- an unneeded tragedy just for the sake of tragedy. Most of what conspires before that remains the same.

With very little richness and detail, the basics are as such:

Ace and Gene have known one another since childhood and grew up in a small town in Idaho. (Their friendship experiences many ups and downs). In their college years they make the decision to move out of town after an unfortunate event that threatens to out them, and Gene buys a house for them under his own name elsewhere. Ace establishes work with a modelling agency, and Gene takes on cooking at a diner. (In the 70s, this was more than enough to pay for their needs) It's here that they meet Rory while getting introduced into the "hippie" scene. This also introduces to them the idea of having a third partner. Jobie is introduced a short time after Rory. He happens to get hit by Gene's car in the middle of the night after the boys went to visit Gene's parents. After taking him to the hospital, he is revealed to be a patient from CopperFell- a psychiatric hospital- and was recorded in their records as "released" three years prior. This, however, is incorrect. His guardians continued to pay for his stay there, and his records were not properly updated. Out of obligation, Gene pays for Jobie to stay in a motel for a handful of nights, but after a dispute with Ace they instead have Jobie room with Rory to save on money, which later becomes his permanent home. And this is where the story becomes very open book! There is no definitive ending, and as far as we know they remain successful and happy well into their older years.

[peace-hunter]

Question for baby prime Orion au: how do the rest of the gang take that Orion is the "lost" prime. Because here's the reaction I think they'll have:

D-16:oh primes my friend is a prime and I punch him in the face yesterday!?

Elita: oh primes, this trouble making bot is a prime!?

B-127: one of my new friends is a prime, this is awesome!!

"How well am I taking that one of my friends is actually a demi-god?" reactions from best to worst:

you're pretty much right with Bee. this has been the wildest day he's had since forever, he's very much just along for the ride and he's kinda just "this may as well happen :)"-ing through everything. he's also lowkey clinging to the one (1) good new he's gotten from this whole affair for dear life. like. he could freak out about the fact his entire life has been a lie and he's been working himself to death for a tyrant that's betrayed their entire race to their sworn enemies. or he could be happy his new best friend is extra cool now. so. y'know. glass half-full half-empty kinda deal.

Dee's reaction is,,,, complicated. obviously.

on one hand holy crap his friend is a prime that's the coolest fucking shit ever he's friends with someone directly related to megatronus prime-

on the other. this is just one more thing he's been wrong about for cycles. everything he thought was true is turning out to be a lie and even if this isn't a betrayal like sentinel's it's still something he has to accept is not what he thought it was. Orion, his best friend, the person he trusted the most, is not what he thought he was.

and even though Orion didn't know (which... is also a point of contention between them with Dee not being quite able to believe one could forget such a thing even as Orion swears over and over again he had no idea) there's still a divide between them that wasn't there before. now Orion is this almost mythological being directly created by their god for greater things while Dee is just... a miner.

now Orion is a Prime. and Dee has just found out what happens when you trust a so-called Prime.

and he also can't help but wonder, as he remembers all those times Orion ignored what he said and involved him in his crazy schemes with no regard for what he thought about it, if it's just in the nature of Primes to do as they wish without considering what it means for everyone else.

but the real victim here is elita who is experiencing a level of cringe that hasn't been seen in cybertron before nor will be seen again until maybe four million years and a war later during peace negotiations. pray for her.

baby prime orion au

[inbabylontheywept]

seeing republicans attack legal structures that make it easier to register for voting always seems like a weird gamble to me. whose side has the laziest voters? whose side is willing to jump through the most hoops to vote? and how likely is that trend to continue into the future?

these aren't rhetorical questions. i don't know. and i don't think the republican party knows either. i can tell you, as a college student, i once got confused and registered to vote three times in one day. there are a lot of redundant programs to help young people vote. i don't know if there's as much of an effort to involve the old.

there's also something to be said about noticing when people take coin flip odds of success. the implied message is that they had less than coinflip odds of winning before. and i can believe that. the republican party has no idea what it's going to do in four years, least of all ten. if they seem busy and organized and scary right now, it's because they are cornered and fighting for their lives. who are they gonna run next? everyone that ran against trump the first time got humiliated. there's no one that he's currently training and grooming into a future leader. all the competency got driven out because trump viewed competency, correctly, as a threat.

like, they might pull a rabbit out of a hat, but i'm strangely optimistic. i can't even imagine what the republican primary will look like in 2029, least of all 2033.

we are looking at the republican party's last stand. and if it's messy and chaotic and insane, it's because they have nothing left to lose.

[absolxguardian]

@egregiousderp #especially since you can find writings of early modern and medival european men writing about the pros of being friends with your wife#they have no concept of romance just friendship and carnal desire#if you actually like your wife shes your best friend#so its culture!#<-absolxguardian’s prev tags#I CAN COMMENT ON THIS ACTUALLY!#because marriage wasn’t so much about sexual desire as it was about the duty of procreation and lineage for a lot of nobler houses?#it’s more tied in with the idea of status or duty!#you see that especially well in some of the chivalry movements#wanting to have sex with someone was almost completely divorced from the idea of proper marriage#seducing a guy you like so he has to ‘do the right thing’ and make your child legitimate was a thing#we have a very different view of sex and marriage post-birth control pill is my theory at least#it’s still super odd as an ace person seeing these people who don’t even LIKE their spouses as people but are so horny for them they marry

You're exactly right. My tags were just about one aspect of this different system, not differentiating between friendship and feelings of emotional affection towards your spouse/sex partner (romance). This isn't even getting into marriage, which was a thing that could be separate from both sexual attraction and friendship/romance. The idea that the birth control pill caused a major sea change is commonly accepted historiography (as well as easier to use condoms and for a period of time before HIV emerged cures for all STDs). A lot of our contemporary sex negative ideas are out-dated good advice when sex could be very dangerous (of course these ideas have forgotten their purpose. They become self justifying with their own value judgements, instead of practical advice about pregnancy being dangerous and new people causing complications).

Another thing that has occured to me since writing those tags is the idea that some contemporary historians have, deeming very close friendships between 17th and 18th century as "romantic friendships" (and thus sexless). This is done in a very no-homoing way, but considering this a way to make their relationship not queer is asexual erasure. But on the other hand, these relationships weren't considered deviant or even all that close to sodomy in their own time periods. But if their culture can be seen as not differentiating between romance and friendship, then what?

I'd put my guess for the emergence of romance as a concept in Europe as with the movement- romanticism- it takes its name from. But I don't feel like I know enough to confidently present this as a thesis, and I haven't been able to find an actual acadmic paper saying the same thing. Potentially you could say that courtly love is the first instance of romance in Europe, but you could also classify it as being about sexual tension and unconsummated sexual relationships. They did consider what they did dancing around the line, in a time when you weren't required to like your spouse. (And this is just Europe, but I know very little about this kind of intellectual history elsewhere, since I can only read stuff that has been translated into English).

I'm currently in a philosphy of sex and love class, and after four weeks I have no more insight into what romantic love is. But most of the texts we've read have been about figuring out a definition for love in general. The only guy who put forth an idea about romance specifically, has a definition that is incompatible with polyamory. But I am writing this right before doing the readings for our upcoming week that is focused on polyamory, so maybe I'll have more to say in two hours.

[guy who is aromantic voice] sexual attraction just makes more sense than romantic attraction. like ok, you want to fuck someone. this is quantifiable. it is quite easy to grasp what "i want to fuck someone" looks like, even if you have no idea what it feels like. romantic attraction, though? this is a nebulous construct which seems to largely be "glorified friendship with sex" in the popular imagination. what even is the difference between friendship and romance? the line between friendship and sexual attraction, though both can coexist, is that when there's sexual attraction present, you want to fuck someone. the line between friendship and romantic attraction, so far as i can perceive it within a heteronormative, amatonormative framework, is that it is... friendship where you want to fuck someone. what?

[ebsmind]

⏾ SOMEWHERE IN THE HAZE, GOT A SENSE I'VE BEEN BETRAYED | jack hughes x singer!reader

summary : how y/n found out vince cheated the first time

word count : 1.3k

warning(s) : cheating (poor baby y/n ☹️), arguing, mentions of k wording Vince, Vince is a fucking asshole (sorry lol), crying (i hate to see my baby sad)

a/n : AHHHHHHH okay okay this is my first written part and I hope I did it justice bc as much as I love angst, it's hard to write it! anyways, I'm glad I decided to do this because it challenges me to not only go deeper for yall to understand reader it also kinda makes you see what she had to put up with (what the fuck vince) okay that's all I had to say! send me asks about this series bc I love talking about teehee OKAY BYE ILY

series masterlist

The stars glisten upon the midnight-colored skies. The clock that sits on your nightstand on the right side of the bed, has officially struck midnight, signifying a new day. You turn a page of the book you're reading, And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie, a re-read. The early January winds whip through the city of Seattle. Draped upon you is a lavender-colored fuzzy knitted blanket. Handmade by Vince's mom, Tracy.

In the far distance, you can hear the water leaving the showerhead; Vince is taking a shower. The thought of joining him crosses your mind, but you shake the thought away and continue reading. You go to turn the 129th page, but Vince's phone dings before the next page is revealed. It takes a small fragment of a moment for your eyes to find where it sits. Once you do, you make a B-line to its location. You don't notice how his phone was placed face down until you reach the dresser.

Your eyes burn holes into the back of the phone. The clock is ticking. The more time passes, the less time you have to decide whether or not you're going to snoop through your boyfriend's phone. Your internal dialogue fights between two actions: Pick up the phone and read the text messages waiting for a response, or ignore it and continue reading your book. The little devil on your right shoulder wins the battle.

Before you even think about any consequences if Vince were to catch you, you find your right hand already reaching for the phone. The screen illuminates your face, reflecting against the blue lenses that sit across the bridge of your nose. The first thing you notice is the time, 12:34 am. Who in the hell is texting him at this time? The second thing you notice is how Vince no longer has you as his lock screen. Instead, you're faced with a picture of him on a golf course with some of his buddies. If it weren't for the worry about who was texting Vince this late a night, you probably would have cared. The third and final thing you notice is the simple "D" that had given him a notification four minutes ago. You don't have to unlock Vince's phone to read the message, FaceID recognized your face the moment you picked up the phone.

D

goodnight, can't wait to see you tomorrow 💋

*one image*

Waves of anxiety hit you like a tsunami. You reread the text message over and over, thinking that it'll change every time your eyes scan the last half of the message. It's imprinted into your mind, no matter how hard you try, it will never go away. The thought of pressing the message to fully see the picture makes bile rise up in your throat. Knowing it most likely contained some type of nude picture. Whether it was a picture of some nice expensive midnight blue lingerie, maybe even clear water teal, or a picture of the girl's tits, it was going to taint you for eternity. You weren't stupid. Things like this happen to stupid girls, but not you. It couldn't.

You don't hear the water coming to an abrupt stop or Vince walk into the room until he questions what you're doing. "Why do you have my phone?"

Your head whips up to where Vince stands, at the door frame that connects his master bedroom to the master bathroom. His light caramel curls rest on his forehead, beads of water drip down his chest, and his right hand rests on the knot in the towel that's wrapped around his waist. You don't realize the tears that started falling just moments ago until Vince asks, "Why are you crying?"

The gut-wrenching sadness you once felt slowly simmers down and a deep rust color of rage clouds your vision. Without delay, you chuck Vince's phone at his chest and scoff.

"Why do you fucking think?" You wipe the tears that stream down your face with the sleeve of your cream-colored cotton long sleeve, mascara ruins the once-clean shirt. Vince contemplates whether he wants to deny or openly be truthful with you, he unfortunately chooses the first option.

"Babe, come on!" He looks away from the lasers that are practically coming out of your eyes. He knows deep down he's screwed.

"No, Vince! You fucking listen to me! You better be so fucking grateful that I leave first thing in the morning because I'd probably kill you if I didn't!" Lungs working overtime so you can get all of that out in one go. Vince still stands at the doorframe, he doesn't plan on moving anytime soon.

"Who is she?" The question leaves your mouth under a breath, afraid of the answer that might leave Vince's mouth.

"I'm not telling you that." It leaves Vince's mouth at lightning speed, but you move even faster. Your feet carry you rapidly to where Vince stands, once he's in arm's reach, your hands start hitting his chest. You switch between curling your hands into a fist and punching, to slapping his chest. Uncontrollable sobs leave the depths of your chest, and tears cloud your vision to the point where you can only make out the silhouette of the man you never would have thought would betray you.

"I lo-lo-loved you! An-and you d-d-do this to me?!" Your sobs interrupt your ability to say the sentence in one go. Your body finally begins to feel the heartbreak. Your chest and nostrils burn, your head finally starts to pound, and your legs start to feel like jelly. Letting the sobs control your body and legs giving out, you finally accept defeat.

Your eyes close and you start to drop to the ground, this is a fight you aren't going to win. You wait for your body to hit the ground but it never comes, instead you're met with Vince's damp hands on your arms. He steadies you, "Woah, hey there. You're okay I got you."

Wasting no time, you shove the 6'0 man off of you, and before he can say anything else you spit out, "Don't fucking touch me."

Vince puts his hands up in defeat, "Okay! okay, I won't." Following Vince's response, you dash your way to the front door. The professional hockey player follows hot in your trail.

"Hey hey hey! Where are you going?" He tries to grab a hold of your shoulder to turn you around, your reflexes do you wonder and you shove his hand with all the willpower you have left. Disregarding Vince's question, you take your purse and suitcase -which had been placed right next to the door after you finished packing before you got into bed.

"I'm staying at a hotel for the night." Exhaustion hits your body, a bed -not Vince's- sounds amazing right now.

"No, stay. You leave in the morning."

"I'd rather be in some cheap hotel than spend another night with you." The backhanded comment leaves the boy stunned, you take it as your chance to finally leave. You unlock the door and guide your suitcase to follow you out the door. Vince never intervenes. You don't even bother looking back when you slam the door in his face.

Adrenaline courses through your veins, it doesn't dissipate until you're sat on a hotel bed. The mattress is hard, but you've gotten used to it when touring throughout your career. You take notice that the comforter won't do you any justice during the night but that isn't the first thing that's disappointed you today. Tears that stopped falling start to pour again, your chest aches and your heart feels like it's missing. You take a moment to finally acknowledge everything that had happened 25 minutes ago, and once you forcefully come to terms with it, you fall into a deep sleep. Not noticing the 64 missed calls and messages from Vince.

[created-system-hub]

How the heck do I make a system? A brief introduction

This guide includes brief mentions of suicide and brief descriptions of abuse.

Hi there! My name is Arthur, and I'm a tulpa of the Fluffy Crew. If you're here, I'm assuming you're a singlet who doesn't know much about system creation (but has interacted with the plural community), and wants to intentionally create fully separate headmates. If you're not that, you're welcome here too, but I'm writing with that audience in mind. This will be a long one, so everything else is under the cut.

First, I want you to ask yourself, am I ready to make a system? Becoming a system is a big decision. You are going to be sharing your mind, including the most intimate and private parts, with other people 24/7, for the rest of your life. You will have to give up some of your time and energy to the rest of your system, and more than some if you plan on having them interact with the outside world at all. If you consider all of that and you decide being a system isn't something you want, that's okay. This is a deeply personal decision, and nothing you should be forced into. I highly recommend waiting until adulthood before making this decision, but I also can't exactly stop you.

(suicide and abuse mention in this paragraph) Second, I want you to ask yourself, WHY do I want to be a system? Is it something selfish? Is it going to hurt myself or my headmates? All reasons are going to be a little selfish, and that's okay. But consider what your goals are. Do you want a friend? Do you want to know if this is even real? Do you have an interest in mind hacking and find this really cool? These are "selfish" reasons, but they aren't malicious. When you cross the line into goals that hurt one of you that's the trouble spot. A lot of people want to become plural and switch because they're overwhelmed with the world and want escapism. Others want to force their headmates to fill specific roles, such as being a partner or their favorite character. I've heard of too many systems where the host destroys their own personality and leaves their created headmate alone as an alternative to suicide. Your headmate is a conscious person who can be hurt just like you. If you can't act like a responsible person who can respect and cooperate with their headmates as equals, I suggest not becoming a system until you can.

But let's say you decide that, yep. You 100%, beyond a shadow of a doubt, want to be a system, and you're not doing it to have a brain slave or to withdraw from the world. Do you have someone already in mind? A base can definitely help your mind latch on, but it isn't necessary. A base can be anything from a whole character, to a few personality traits in a list, to just a name and gender. Keep in mind, your headmate will likely diverge from this. A good host encourages this, nurturing a headmate's self-expression.

Speaking of being a good host, there is a certain mindset you should keep in mind. You are here to nurture and help your created headmates grow. You're going to have to be gentle with your mental presence sometimes, especially in the beginning where your personality can accidentally easily dominate. But don't feel like you have to lesser yourself to greater your headmates. You can all grow and become greater together.

Now, we are going to focus and form ONE headmate. For the love of god, do not do what we did and create four at once. Its overwhelming and leads to a lot of guilt over not spending enough time with everyone, speaking from experience. If you are starting with a base, dedicate any traits and visuals to memory. If you aren't, it may help to create a simple visual form to focus on when interacting with them. In tulpamancy, a ball of light is a traditional choice, but you can choose anything you can think of. Visual forms are not necessary for creation, but many enjoy the ability to visualize them and interact in headspace. Headspace creation will not be gone over here.

In my opinion, the best way to start is an introduction. Feel the space in your mind where they are, or at least try to. You are going to direct your thoughts to this space, your headmate. If they have a visual form, visualize it as vividly as you can. Introduce yourself to them, and explain your intention of creating a system. Explain that they are a headmate of yours, and the form you are visualizing is theirs to control. If they have a base, explain who they are and tell them that they are that base, though they are free to change it. Invite them to respond back, and keep an open mind.

Try to spend time with your headmate every day, as much as you can. You are having to build the mental connections that form your headmate by hand, and that takes a LOT of repetition. Spending time with them could be a lot of things. It could be speaking with them as you go about your day, immersing yourself in headspace with them, working on a new system skill, playing a game together, or just hanging out. Try to be varied in the type of interaction you do.

Eventually, you will start getting responses. These probably won't be words at first. More likely, they'll be an emotional response that feels "alien" and "not you", a sense of pressure in your head, or a raw thought or feeling that isnt yours. It can be difficult to hear their responses, especially if you have a busy mind. You have to try not to block out their thoughts from appearing, as especially in the beginning that's easy to do. Their responses may sound like you at first, but that will get better with time and practicing separation.

Now, there isnt exactly one way to form a headmate, and you should experiment on your own to find what works best for you and your system. We theorize the most basic mechanism for created plurality is your brain being allowed to think as someone who isn't the host, over and over, until it happens subconsciously. The difference between a headmate and an imaginary friend or character is autonomy. Wren used to daydream constantly but it didn't lead to a system because they didn't allow their characters any freedom of thought. It was all very much puppeteering. When they started roleplaying, they allowed the characters to "think" on their own, imagining what their emotions and thoughts would be, separate from theirs. This eventually caused me and the other original three to start forming, due to that freedom of thought. Anything that allows your headmate to gain that autonomous thought is just as valid as any other method.

How long development could take varies a lot. Some people are more predisposed to be plural, and become a system easier and quicker than others. Some people have a really hard time becoming plural, and it takes a lot more effort and time to become a system. Singlets who already talk to themselves, have dissociative tendencies, are easily hypnotized, and are creative storytellers tend to have a high disposition for being plural. It could take as short as a week, or as long as years. Average times are around 3-6 months with dedicated work. It took us 18 months to feel confident in saying we were a fully realized system, but we also struggled with motivation and dedication.

The most common system goal is to have fully-realized independent headmates who can operate without their host's help and do not fade without interaction. The best way to get to this stage is just time. Keep spending time with them and living your life together. Treat them as independent, and they will become independent quicker. Your expectations shape a lot of your experiences when it comes to system creation.

I'm not going to cover any more advanced techniques like switching or headspace creation in this guide, as this is meant to be a jumping-off point for beginners. This is our first attempt at a guide and would love to improve. If you have any comments or questions, please feel free to reach out!

Have a wonderful day, and I wish you the best of luck on your system journey!

[trippinsorrows]

dreamland: the wrong one

authors note: i’m still focused on finishing up ltye, but i got this ask, and i had to make this happen 😭

warnings: angst, bullying, and violence amongst children

masterlist

words: 4.3k

Something is wrong.

Call it a hunch, a gut feeling, or just a mother’s instinct, but the moment Solana accepts a call from her kids’ school and hears something has happened with Leya, she knows something is wrong. Because she’s received calls like that before, more than she’d like to admit, most of them regarding Leya having an episode with her OCD.

But the majority of those outreaches also come from Leya herself. She uses her cell phone to call or text Solana, Roman, or usually both of them, that she wants to come home. Then comes the call from the school.

But, there’s no contact from Leya this time. Nor does she answer Solana’s call or text, which is how the wife of the Tribal Chief knows that something is wrong.

And the moment she steps foot into the office, ignores the attempts of the dean of the school, Dean Webber, to catch her before she sees Leya. Solana isn’t having it. She heads straight to the nurses office, immediately stopping in the doorway, her chest tightening to an instant, uncomfortable degree. 

“Oh my God….”

The nurse, Nurse Dixon is tending to a crying Leya. Leya, who sits on the table, face red, a dark, publish bruise around her left eye, cut on her cheek, and the left side of her lip slightly swollen. Sprinkles of blood dripping on her uniform that’s disheveled and wet. Her hair, that Solana had styled in two cute ponytails this morning, as was Leya’s request, is down and frizzy, almost matted. 

But, even with all of that, it’s the look of absolute pain in Leya’s eyes that has Solana on the verge of tears.

“Cataleya….” Solana drops her purse onto the floor, uncaring of some of the contents that spill out. She’s immediately in front of her daughter, having bumped the nurse out of the way. Solana cradles the back of Leya’s head as her daughter cries into her shoulder, clutching onto her. 

Leya’s fear in this moment is palpable. 

“Mommy….” Leya sobs, Solana unable to hold back her own tears as she holds her daughter, comforts her, protects her in a way that she wasn’t able to. And that’s what also messes with her, has Solana several shades of perturbed.

She didn’t protect Leya.

“Baby….” Solana is able to pull back, to gently cup Leya’s face, a mixture of rage and hurt bubbling over seeing her daughter’s injuries. “Baby, who—who did this to you?” Solana sniffles, gently caressing the top of her uninjured cheek. “What happened, Leya?”

The slightest tremble of Leya’s bottom lip is followed by her mouth opening. Unfortunately, nothing comes out, because a steel, firm voice overflowing with faux sympathy interrupts.

“Mrs. Reigns, we are so—”

The speed in which Solana snaps her head around is matched only by the venom in her voice. “I didn’t ask you anything.” She hisses, eyes narrowed at the tall, older woman with far too many lines in her face for someone only in her forties. “I was speaking to my daughter.”

Dean Webber does in fact shut her mouth. Temporarily. “I understand, but—”

“Get out!” Solana snaps, her directive aimed at both the dean and the nurse, the latter of which who still stands, waiting to tend to Leya’s injuries. When no one moves, Solana repeats herself, tone even more aggressive. “I said get out.”

It’s the second issuance that brings about acquiescence. And when it’s just Solana and her daughter, Leya buries her face back into the comfort of Solana’s chest, her tiny hands clutching at Solana’s side.

“They hurt me, mommy.” Four words Solana prayed to never hear from any of her children, especially her daughters. Words that are eerily similar to what she told Xavier that day in the hospital. 

The day she was raped. 

“Who, baby?” It’s unknown to Solana just how she’s able to not crumble and break down in front of her little girl, because the mother of five hasn’t felt this triggered in some time. Years, even. “Who—who hurt you?”

Leya sniffles, answering in almost staccato-like pauses. “P–Paige, Deena, Tionna, and Tracy.” Solana commits every name to memory except one, because the last one she is very familiar with. “I—I went to the bathroom, and they—they came in after me and–and wouldn’t let me leave. They started calling me names and—and I told them to leave me alone, but—but Tracy p–p–punched me and pushed me down.” Leya cries, hiccupping in between her explanations. “They started k–kicking me and hitting me—and—and they pulled my hair and tried to cut it.”

Solana’s heart breaks listening to Leya recount what must have been a terrifying experience. “Oh, baby…”

“They took my purse and broke my phone,” Leya’s crying intensifies, Solana bringing her back into a warm, safe, hug, kissing her temple. “I’m sorry, mommy.”

But, those three words make Solana pull back with a look of horror. “For what, Leya?”

Leya wipes at her running nose with the sleeve of her shirt. “Cause I didn’t f—fight back hard enough.”

And, it’s that moment Solana’s heart truly breaks. 

It’s like looking at a younger version of herself, and that’s a sort of pain she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy.

Solana carefully and gingerly grips Leya’s face, uncaring of the blood seeping from Leya’s cut and collecting on her fingers after staining part of her shirt. “Sweetie, you listen to me, you did nothing wrong. You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing at all. This is not your fault. Okay?” Solana doesn’t need a reply, just welcomes her baby back into her bosom. “Mommy’s so sorry this happened to you.”

Because, it shouldn’t have happened, but the fact that it did is something she cannot find herself able to reconcile with.

Solana holds her daughter for a few minutes before convincing Leya to let her finish tending to her injuries. Leya obliges and also adjusts the shirt of her uniform to show Solana her side that’s already starting to bruise up. Solana has to bite back what she really wants to say, because while her heart breaks for her daughter, another emotion is also building.

Anger.

She’s furious.

But, she doesn’t want to show that to Leya, doesn’t want to further traumatize her daughter. Solana, does, however, manage to gather her purse and items that spilled out, which includes her phone. A phone that she absolutely uses to quickly send a brief text to her husband. Two words.

Need you.

Solana knows she doesn’t need to say anything beyond that, and perhaps she didn’t need to say anything at all, because the time that passes between when she sent her text and Roman knocking softly before entering the nurse’s quarters is inhumanly fast. He had to have already been on his way.

But, it’s way his expression instantly dropped the second he sets his gaze on Leya.

And, Leya’s eyes naturally start watering looking at her dad. “Daddy….”

Roman doesn’t say anything, just takes two strides to close the distance between them. Instantly, she’s in his arms, crying all over again. Roman cradles the back of her head, looking over at Solana with an unspoken question.

What happened?

Solana wipes at her eyes, not wanting her emotions to influence Leya’s. “Some little girls jumped her in the bathroom.”

And just like that, Solana sees it. Sees the shift from Roman, the loving and attentive father and husband. She sees the murderous gleam in his brown eyes. 

She sees the Tribal Chief.

“Stay with her,” Solana directs, gently caressing Leya’s back before walking out, closing the door to allow them continued privacy. Solana maneuvers her way through the administrative office area, headed straight for Dean Webber’s office when she sees them. Four little girls, sitting down on the bench by the secretary’s desk, all but one of them white, and not a contrite expression in sight.

And suddenly, Solana’s blood is boiling, her attention completely redirected.

“You little bitches.” Gasps from around her, other adults, clearly taken back by Solana’s language that’s directed toward her daughter's attackers. Not that she cares. Not one bit. “Who the hell do you think you are to jump my child?” Solana points to herself, calling them out. “And you only did that shit, because you knew Lina wasn’t here to look out for her!”

A smirk from the redheaded one. Tracy. “You can’t talk to us like that.” She crosses her arms over chest, chin jutted. “We’re just kids.”

Solana has never understood the struggle her husband must feel in situations where he has to control his temper until this very moment. “No, you’re evil little bitches, that’s what you ar—”

“Excuse me?” One of the single most annoying voices Solana has ever had the displeasure of hearing. She turns to her side to see a middle aged couple, a man and woman, the woman with fried roots and an uneven tan. “How dare you speak to my daughter like that?”

A light goes off, Solana now completely uninterested in the demon and wholly invested in the creators of said demon.

“Your daughter assaulted my child,” Solana informs, unknowing and uncaring if they know just why they’ve been called to the school. Solana points to the back where the nurse’s station is. “My daughter is sitting back there, crying into her father’s chest because your daughter and these other little evil—”

The woman steps forward. “You watch your mouth!” 

“I’ll watch my mouth when you watch your bitch of a daughter!”

The man beside her, tall with a slightly muscular build moves in front of his wife, in Solana’s space. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to like that, huh?”

“Back the hell away from me,” Solana glares, fist forming at her side. She’s seeing red, the image of Leya’s crying, injured face all the fodder she needs to not cower, to not feel triggered by his obvious intimidation tactic. She swore years ago no man would ever hurt her, make her feel less than, and she still stands ten toes down on that.

However, he doubles down, stepping even closer, thin, non-existent lips turned into a taunting smirk. “And just what are you gonna do, you little cunt?” Solana will absolutely show him what she’s going to do. “What—” The opportunity is ripped away the moment Roman whisks past her, snatching the man by his collar, Solana only seeing Roman’s arm lift before the sickening sound of a crunch fills the small room. The man cries out, holding his nose, gasping and sputtering to say something that’s silenced by the way Roman slams him against the wall, face first, one arm twisted behind his back. Another sickening sound, a snapping almost, followed by Roman tugging on his arm, clearly dislocating it.

“Phil!” 

“Don’t you ever fucking disrespect my wife like that!” Roman growls, uncaring of the near whimpers of this Phil and the pleas of his wife. “I should fucking kill your ass right now!”

“Everyone, please!” Dean Webber’s voice enters the situation. Solana looks over to see she’s flanked by two police officers who, wisely, remain at her side instead of intervening. Unsurprising. 

The whole police department is on Bloodline payroll. They know the consequences of involving themselves in Bloodline business, and this has now most definitely morphed into Bloodline business. 

“I want them arrested,” Solana speaks up. Roman lets up on Phil, looking over at her as his wife falls to her knees, looking at his mangled arm, his daughter also crying. Good. She meets the eyes of the cops, pointing to the girls. “They assaulted my daughter and destroyed her property. I want them arrested.”

Roman moves his shoulders and comes to stand beside her. Protectively.

Dean Webber stammers. “Mr. and Mrs. Reigns, I understand you’re upset, and rightfully so, but these are just children—”

“You think we give a fuck about that?” Roman hisses, voicing his agreement. “We want them arrested.”

Webber is obviously, and smartly, trying to be mindful of her response. “I think we should all just sit down.”

“Fuck that,” Roman sneers, gesturing toward the rest of the also now crying, evil girls. “Arrest them.”

Solana crosses her arms and steps to the side with her husband as one officer goes to grab the blonde little girl, the other three huddling together as the officer goes to round them up.

They‘re all crying, blabbering about being sorry, asking for their parents, and other shit Solana, and especially Roman, couldn’t give two shits about. They didn’t care about Leya’s feelings when they cornered her, attacked her, and broke her phone, so they can go to hell.

—---------

The first few days are rough.

From the way Tama’s smile instantly dropped from his excitement at his field trip at the zoo the minute he saw his big sister was hurt to the anger that filled Lina when she saw and realized the same thing.

Both siblings experienced an amount of anger and confusion, but mostly anger, Lina holding her twin as they sat in bed together later that evening, vowing to “get them back.” The way Tama completely unloaded on his punching bag in one of the playrooms, telling his dad how “angry” he was that they hurt his sister. Koa and Kai, at two, were too young to process the gravity of what happened, so their reaction was a non-reaction.

And Leya, the kindest of the bunch, the most vulnerable, oscillated between sadness and anxiety. Feeling an abundance of hurt over what transpired and a tremendous amount of anxiety that it could happen again. Her OCD was triggered, Solana and Roman having to take her to see Brie four times in just three days.

She slept in the room with Solana and Roman, along with Lina and Tama, the former of which seeming to embark upon an almost expedited recovery from her sickness. Her desire for revenge too strong a warrior for even her coughs and sore throat.

Solana took a few days off, and Roman worked remotely, wanting to be available for all of the kids, especially Leya. 

“We can’t keep her home forever.” Solana knows her husband knows this, knows that they need to figure out how they’re going to proceed sooner rather than later. But, sitting out on the balcony of their master bedroom, their three oldest kids sleeping peacefully in their bed, as Solana reclines into Roman’s back, it’s the first time they’ve had to themselves in days to discuss the plan. So, she intends to take full advantage of that. “Any of them.”

Roman sighs, fingers gently gliding up and down Solana’s upper arm. He knows this. Knows all the kids need to continue school in some capacity after this weekend, after being kept home all this week following Monday’s incident. “I know.”

“We can send her to another school—”

“But, then we have to send all of them,” Roman finishes, already knowing the dilemma, just like he already knows there’s no way in hell the girls would go for being separated. Even Tama might have some objections. “And, I don’t think they want that.”

“Neither do I,” Solana agrees, looking up at him. “Leya….she does like it there for the most part. She likes her teacher, her friends there. It challenges her enough academically.” Solana lists the pros, frowning when something hits her.  “At least, she did.”

Because she’s now not so certain if this event has taken away her daughter’s previous satisfaction with her school. Sure, she’s had moments, some issues with other girls, but never to this extent, and it’s always been largely helped by Lina, her unofficial bodyguard and protector. 

Roman detects the hesitation without even needing to ask. “We’ll make sure those little bitches are expelled if she does go back..”

Solana pauses. “Eventually.”

At that, the Tribal Chief looks down at his wife. “Eventually?”

Sitting up, Solana does her best to answer without directly answering. “Lina wants revenge….” Even saying it aloud, Solana can hear the sound of Lina beating the hell out of her punching bag and fighting dummy, unleashing all of her anger. Practice. “I say we let her.”

Roman looks at his wife, partially surprised, partially turned on. “You know what she wants to do, right?”

Solana shrugs, answering almost nonchalantly. “She’ll do what we can’t.”

Roman makes a sound but offers no sort of disagreement, which he knows should come at no surprise to his wife. Because when it comes to Lina and her lack of fear and temper, Solana is usually the one making a comment or suggesting he talk to her. But, this is different. This is a different level of bullying outside of a few mean comments, to which Lina never hesitates to step in to defend her sister.

The same way she wants to defend her sister in a way Leya couldn’t. 

Hence why she was targeted.

Roman readies to offer another suggestion regarding just what they’re going to do about school when the door to their bedroom is opened, Leya standing there with her small hand on the doorknob.

“Mommy? Daddy?”

Solana sits up, reaching for her daughter. “Come here, baby.” 

Leya quietly shuts the door and shuffles over to her parents, climbing up on the sofa and situating herself between them. 

“Can’t sleep?” Roman asks, gently caressing her cheek, noticing and appreciative of the way the cut has started to heal.

Leya nods, offering no verbal response as she leans into him.

Solana casts Roman a look, mother and father sharing an unspoken conversation. “Leya….” Leya looks over at her mom, eyes a mixture of anxiety and sleepiness. “Daddy and I were talking, and we’re trying to figure out what we’re gonna do about school for you.” It’s not missed on her the increased anxiety that appears in Leya’s eyes. Solana asks in the most careful way, “baby, what do you want to do?”

Roman speaks up, needing his daughter to know. “Whatever you want to do is fine with us, Leya. You just have to tell us what that is.”

Because that’s what is most important. Not what Solana wants or what Roman wants, but what Cataleya wants.  

And, she seems to think about it, the wheels in her head turning as she mulls over how to answer. “I—I like my school,” is the response she finally supplies a good two minutes later. She looks between her parents. “And—and, I wanna stay in school with sissy and Tama.”

Another shared look between husband and wife. Confirmation of what they already knew. “Can—can I stay?”

“Of course, you can stay, baby.” Solana answers with a soft smile, informing. “Daddy and I will just make sure those girls are kicked out of school, so they can’t mess with you anymore.”

Roman also adds. “And, I’m going to make sure you have a guard with you at all times. Even in the bathroom, alright?” Because he’d already started going through a list of options for female guards to assign to Leya to avoid anything like this ever again. 

Relief flashes all across her face, as she asks in a low voice, “so…I can go back next week?”

Solana nods. “Next Tuesday.” Roman casts a subtly confused glance her way,  Solana explaining, “I want you to stay home with mommy on Monday. We can spend the day together. Just you and me. I’ll have your auntie Afia keep Koa and Kai.”

Leya’s lips lift into a wide smile as she shifts and hugs Solana, laying against her chest, Solana also smiling, kissing the top of her head. And as Leya revels in the chance to spend one on one time with her mom, Roman sits quietly, also pleased to see them have that time but also knowing the other reason Solana wants to keep just Leya home an extra day.

To give Lina the time she needs to handle business. One day to enact that vengeance she’s been bursting at the seams all week regarding, ready to dish out.

Ready for blood.

—-------

Lina plans it. 

She plans it more methodically than most seven year-olds. A plan contrived over a week of being home with her family, with her sister who didn’t deserve what happened to her.

Something Lina plans to make sure never happens again.

It starts with her wearing those shoes Aunt Naomi and Uncle Jimmy got her. The ones with the hard tips. 

Then there’s her binder. Sparkly, pink, with hearts all over it. 

Leya’s binder.

The binder that she managed to tape in and keep hidden a pair of scissors. 

And, the last thing with her plan is simply opportunity, arguably, the easiest part. 

All she has to do is “accidentally” not finish up her work by the time recess rolls around, resulting in her having to sit at one of the tables outside while the kids run around playing. Once outside, Lina easily and quickly finishes up the assignment she could have finished in under twenty minutes during class time, but she needed the excuse to bring her binder.

A binder she’s gripping with all her strength as she breaks away from the study table while Mrs. Carlyle is helping another student.

Fury fills her little body when she spots them, laughing and playing away like they did nothing. Like they didn’t hurt Leya. Her sister. 

The tips of Lina’s fingers are practically red by the time she reaches them.

And the minute she’s in close enough vicinity, Catalina Reigns wastes not a single second in taking that hardcover, sparkly binder and smashing the back of Tracy’s head. 

She had to start with her first.

Tracy cries out and falls to the ground as Lina does the same to Paige, Deena, and Tionna. Each stupid girl falls and whines instead of running, like they should, because their stupidity is Lina’s advantage. 

Lina jumps on top of Tracy and punches her in her face, aiming for her nose. She grabs her by her shoulders and slams her into the ground repeatedly. “Don’t you ever touch my sissy, you mean bitch!”

Tracy continues to cry as Lina transitions to the other girls, a mixture of kicks with her hard ass shoes and more swinging of the binder on top of the now screaming and bleeding girls. Lina knows she doesn’t have much time before a teacher separates them, hence why she reaches for the scissors and starts wildly cutting off the girls hair with no rhyme or reason.

She cuts Tracy’s the shortest.

She looks like Angelica's doll, Cynthia, from Rugrats.

“Hey!” A boy’s voice can be heard before Lina is shoved off Tracy by another boy around her age. “Leave her—”

He’s cut off when the sudden and strong spear knocks him away.  Tama pins the older boy to the ground, screaming, “Don’t touch my sister!” His threat is followed by a punch to the boy’s face. 

Lina doesn’t allow herself to be distracted. She’s waited too long for this. She goes back to attacking the girls, shouting with all the rage in her little body, “nobody messes with my family!”

And, she means it. With everything in her. 

With her sister.

With her brothers.

With her mom or even her dad.

No one comes after anyone with the last name Reigns. 

Period.

By the time the teachers and school resources officers get to Tama and Lina, the damage is done. The kids are on the ground, bleeding, in pain, noses broken, wrists sprained, hair destroyed.

The school nurses are called, someone also says something about calling 911, but neither Reigns kids care. The two simply share a look of pride and fist bump as they’re escorted to the office.

And, it’s in the office where their parents find them, on the bench, sitting together, the only sign of what occurred being their uniforms that are now disheveled, not an ounce of guilt to be found in either one of them.

Solana and Roman can admit they’re both a bit surprised to see Tama. Lina? Not at all. They knew she was planning to get her receipt. They just didn’t expect Tama to also take advantage of the opportunity. 

But, he most certainly did, informing his dad who walks over and crouches down in front of them, “some boy tried to push Lina.”

Already knowing, having to hold back his smile, Roman asks, “and what’d you do, buddy?”

Tama, however, doesn’t hesitate to smile, answering proudly, “I punched him in the face.”

At that, Roman chuckles, fist bumping his son. “That’s my boy.” He turns his gaze onto Lina. “Do I want to know what you did?”

Lina, however, simply lifts her chin, asserting, “they got what they deserved.”

Truer words have never been spoken.

Dean Webber comes out of her office, face flushed and flustered, “Mr. and Mrs. Reigns, we need to have a serious—”

“We want all those kids expelled from the school,” Solana cuts her off, arms crossed, voice even. “Effective today.”

The older woman’s eyes widen. “Excuse me?” She scoffs, gesturing to a still unbothered Lina and Tama. “Your children just brutally assaulted several students, and you want me to expel the—”

“You think my kids caused a scene?” Roman steps forward, voice every bit as menacing and threatening as he intends. “Wait till you see what I do if I drop them off to school tomorrow and those little fuckers aren’t gone.”

 Because what Lina and Tama did is child’s play, and while he would never put his hands on a child, their parents are a different story.

He’ll make all those little bitches orphans and sleep just as fine. 

Dean Webber gulps. “I—I’ll alert the parents.”

Solana grabs her husband by his forearm, pulling him away. “That’s what we thought.” She gestures for her kids, Tama and Lina running over while Roman orders for the kids backpacks and lunch boxes to be brought to the office. 

The kids hug their mom, right as Roman informs, “we’re gonna pick up your sister and brothers and take you all out to eat.” He chuckles when their faces light up, already knowing what comes next. “Ice cream afterwards?”

[nabi-unveiled]

Flipping the Characters in Futtara Doshaburi

This show is a vibe, and I'm vibing with it. I'm loving everything about these two lonely people desperately seeking intimacy. Watching episode four in the car while the rain poured around me only added to the vibe. That said, being in the car means I can't do my normal screenshot process so semi-relevant gifs it is.

We start with Hagiwara descending into the depths. I mentioned after episode 3 that he still had a more positive outlook on his circumstances. But he's now on his way into the hole where he won't be able to gloss over his unhappiness. Sei is already in the hole. He has been there for a while, he knows he's there, and he's somewhat resigned himself to it.

This change in Hagiwara's attitude is reflected in our aesthetics too. While Hagiwara's home had bright and warm elements last episode, the door to his house is cold and dark after their dinner. It's no longer welcoming. The restaurant is where the warm colors resided.

However, the truly interesting thing to me about this show is in how much this show has flipped the character expectations.

It's flipped the idea of "good guys" and "bad guys" - particularly in a drama that's definitely leading towards cheating. It's pretty standard fair in a cheating drama for the partners to be painted as not caring or evil. But as Hiragawa and Sei make clear in their exchange after the meal, nobody really is in the wrong (yet). It's really unfair to all of them. I actually think Sei's partner has the shortest end of this stick thus far, but that's a different discussion.

The partners of our leads are caring. They cook for our leads. They clean up for our leads. They are kind. But they offer companionship, not sex. This makes them "cruel". It's cruel to be kind.

Our leads actually have only shown minimal considerations towards their partner. Sei sprayed perfume and Hiragawa goes to his girlfriend's social events, but they aren't the ones doing the major acts of service. The have mainly shown care to each other, not their partners. And they mainly want sex (and intimacy, but...the dialogue keeps saying sex) from their partners. In most other shows, our leads would be the "bad guy". The boyfriend who is obsessed with sex and has you do all of the work. But this show is clearly demonstrating that while romance may be in the little things, the little things cannot fill the empty hole. And it's okay to want that hole to be filled.

The characterization of our main leads has flipped as well. The initial setup in episode one depicted Hagiwara as a bit of a bumbling oaf. He sent an email to the wrong address. He forgot to pick up his ID card. Sei, on the other hand, was initially portrayed as the fastidious one handling a business need and admonishing Hagiwara for wearing an id tag that wasn't company issued.

But we have learned that those were false impressions. Hagiwara is good at his job. It's made clear that he's good at planning the company outings. He's good at sales. He's the responsible one gathering and returning the umbrellas. He's the "picky" one at the grill making sure the grilling is done correctly. Sei is the one who stands in the rain and acts a mess. We now know he likely reacted to the id tag because of his complex feelings about who designed it, not because he actually cared about the rules. It's an interesting switch up.

There's also some interesting flips in that Hagiwara is a gregarious guy who talks a lot (he's in sales after all). He not only goes to social events on the regular, he plans them. But he never says what he actually wants. That characterization is more common, but it's still an interesting dichotomy. He is tumblr - only saying his deepest thoughts when writing to a stranger.

Meanwhile, Sei says exactly what he wants. The man is crude and rude, but he's also open with his thoughts. Many taciturn, loner characters are blunt, but few are as open as Sei. He just lays it all out on the table. I wish I could catch the linguistics of Japanese to know if he's actually using rude speech patterns as well, but that's outside of my skillset.

Being a prickly porcupine, Sei is used to people being put off by him. He said earlier that he wasn't nice. And he's not. But we still LIKE him and we still FEEL for him. And that's incredibly difficult to pull off in a show that clocks episodes in at under 25 minutes.

Sei fully expected that Higawara would back off and only give him courtesy greetings once he found out his identity. His friend from college did just that this episode. A few courtesy greetings followed by "Oh you don't have LINE. Guess we won't talk then. Bye." Fujisawa is the only one that seems to have put up with his personality. But Higawara, as bad as he is at expressing his own thoughts, feels comfortable with Sei. He keeps reaching out. He reached out through e-mail. He reached out with an umbrella. He reached out with an invite to treat Sei for helping. He reached out with a dinner invite. And unlike his partner, Sei responds.

For Sei, whose desire to talk keeps getting shut down by his partner, this invitation explicitly to talk is a lifeline. He always responds, taking any hint of Hiragawa reaching out to initiate an entire, probably way-too-honest conversation. After all, the hole is deep.

By the end of the episode, Hagiwara has fully descended into the underground thanks to our pregnant friend spilling the tea. In a bright environment with a lot of light no less (enlightenment I dare say?). He's reaches out to his partner in a final attempt and gets shut down. So he reaches out to Sei. And, Sei does what he always does. He responds. He welcomes someone joining him in the underground. At the end of the day, they both crave the intimacy this connection is providing. But as the storm glass predicts....rain is coming.

How did they fit that much meaty stuff in a 25 minute episode?!

[thedaythatwas]

on nagito komaeda and love

I just think it’s sort of funny that for a character whose (arguably) most well-recognized CG is this: 

komaeda’s narrative so heavily centers love. and I don’t just say this because I’ve had komahina brainrot for years (though this is true!!). even if you don’t care about komahina, it’s tough to deny komaeda is a walking tragedy in large part because of the role that love plays in his life. his characterization is driven by the way his luck has denied him love, and how he seeks it out regardless. in that sense, I think that without understanding komahina as at least one-sided, you miss out on one of the juiciest, most miserable pieces of komaeda’s character development.

tldr; a love-centered reading of komaeda makes sense, recognizing komahina as “a thing” in DR2 (whether you ship it or not) is pretty important to understanding how komaeda operates, and I’ll try to prove it right here under this page break!!

Part 1: Komaeda’s Love Life (or, his life without love)

I think it’s safe to assume that if you clicked here, you know about komaeda’s absurdly miserable, tumultuous childhood, but I’ll do a quick recap just in case! meteor kills his parents on a plane, he inherits a ton of money. he’s kidnapped by a serial killer, he finds a winning lottery ticket in the garbage bag he’s thrown out in. he’s diagnosed with terminal cancer and dementia, he gets into hope’s peak.

in his free time events, komaeda *explicitly* frames his luck cycle as something that takes away the people he loves. it only “takes action” against him after his relatives have died (for the sake of this essay, let’s assume that komaeda loved his parents, or would have at least been hurt by their passing). by way of other close connections… well, his wording here implies that by the time of his diagnosis, he didn’t really have anybody in his life. 

either komaeda didn’t allow himself to get close to anyone after the meteor incident, or he did, and they were taken away by his luck. at some point during his childhood, komaeda learned he should view himself as a death sentence.

so, how does this loss of love shape the komaeda we know? I’ll talk about this in terms of four of his defining (and connected!) traits in DR2 canon – the ones that really make his actions make sense: his self-loathing, his hope-seeking, his learned helplessness, and his certainty that his existence poses a threat to those around him. komaeda’s experience with loss makes him view himself as a source of death, which in turn fuels these tenets of his character. ultimately, his loss and the complexes that arise from it give him good incentive to push people away.

his self-loathing

komaeda hates himself. he views himself as worthless outside of his potential to serve as a “stepping stone” for the hope of the ultimates. he claims that this is driven by his beliefs around talent, which are in turn linked to the way his worldview rests on viewing hope as “absolute good.” the talentless (himself included) are only good for advancing the hope of the talented. still, his self-loathing is a bit more personal than that. take what he says and dig just below the surface, and it’s a clean cut trauma response all the way down. which leads us directly to…

his hope-seeking

komaeda is willing to do literally anything to serve hope. on the island, this (in short) means dying. this is where I prod at komaeda’s reasoning a bit more: komaeda’s willingness to act the way he does in canon also stems from his belief that his dying would be a net good for the world. his existence kills the people around him. his illness will kill him anyway. he has less than no value, and hope is invaluable. to go out for the sake of hope would give his wretched life purpose; it’s his dream come true.

and it’s no mystery why komaeda cares so much about hope: again, it’s a coping mechanism! komaeda’s belief that all bad luck is a necessary precursor for good luck and that hope will always triumph over despair is (as he himself says!) the only reason he’s managed to stay alive. I’ll say it again because I really can’t emphasize it enough – komaeda thinks that just by existing, he kills the people he loves. ouch!

learned helplessness / his existence as a threat

komaeda has, essentially, learned to submit to his luck cycle. all bad luck is good luck in the end – isn’t that amazing?! almost paradoxically, he’s hyper-vigilant about the negative impact his luck has on those around him. this is a tricky one. I make sense of it this way: komaeda’s perception of how much his luck impacts the people close to him isn’t inflated, like, at all. the supernatural way the world bends around komaeda to screw him over really does pose a danger to himself and others, and he takes measures to minimize that danger. his stated acceptance of his luck cycle is… well, again, he’s coping. 

if komaeda really thought that all bad luck is ultimately good luck, he wouldn’t try to protect his classmates from his bad luck. but, as we see in island mode, he does!

but really, who could blame komaeda for lying to himself? I’ll restate the facts. komaeda thinks that luck is absolute power. he says that he’s powerless against it. his luck has taken his family, and it’s left him with nothing but money that he doesn’t want. he’s certain he’s a curse, and there’s no end to that in sight: so long as komaeda exists, he’ll keep on losing – murdering – everything he loves. 

in the face of all of that despair, what can you do but abandon your self-esteem and pray for something good to come out of all of it? how else could somebody possibly survive carrying that burden, truly believing that load will never be lightened?

tldr; komaeda thinks his existence is a threat, and a big chunk of his personality is a frankensteined way of surviving the pain that comes with that. still, we should question how much of his worldview komaeda has really internalized without inner conflict. 

Part 2: Enter Hajime Hinata

we get some answers on that front when we see that despite the clear and obvious danger it poses, nagito komaeda still finds himself falling hard for hajime hinata. that’s really, really loud.

I’ll preface this part by saying that you don’t need to actively ship komahina to understand what I’m trying to get at here. this said, I’ll be recapping an argument you’ve almost definitely seen before: komahina is definitely “a thing” – at the very least as a one-sided thing. to this, I’ll add the (perhaps bold?) claim that without recognizing that much as true, you’re missing out on a big part of what makes komaeda so interesting.

komaeda’s FTEs make it abundantly clear that komaeda has feelings for hinata. apart from his famed failed love confession, the fact that komaeda is willing to allow hinata to get close enough to learn about his views on hope and luck is telling. 

(the smoking gun here hinges on trusting that komaeda was telling the truth during the time you spent with him; in so many words, that he only lied about lying. so, for the sake of argument, let’s assume this is true! there’s good proof for it, anyway.)

if you read his final FTE as komaeda flashing his soul to hinata and making a decision at the very last second to retreat, turning to old coping mechanisms to protect hinata from his luck, it’s sort of a komahina bombshell. that capitulation spells out for us that komaeda understands sharing his life experiences with hinata to be one of the most intimate things he could possibly do.

he recognizes the exact moment he lets hinata get too close – when his life story is finally told – and he does what he’s learned he needs to do to get them both out of that situation safely: he tries to make hinata hate him, and tells himself (and hinata!) that he did it for the sake of hope.

(and yet, komaeda let hinata approach him every FTE, knowing damn well that they were both playing with fire… very interesting.)

now, let’s say you don’t consider the FTEs to be integral to canon. I mean, you can really easily miss out on all of komaeda’s content if you choose not to hang out with him in chapter 1! so, for the skeptic, in the unskippable main story, komaeda tells hinata this:

komaeda cares about hinata despite everything. and I really, truly mean despite everything. at this point in the story, the fact that he still cares about hinata calls into question basically every single one of his core beliefs. he’s read his final dead room prize – not only does hinata not have a talent, we can presume that komaeda also knows hinata became ultimate despair along with the rest of them. 

hinata has continually sought out komaeda’s company, even though komaeda knows himself to be worthless at best, lethal at worst. komaeda was willing to let him get closer, even though he knows how dangerous that is for hinata. he can’t help but let hinata try to know him. 

isn’t he awful? to want what he knows he can’t have, even though that wanting has never done anything but cause pain? he’s really the lowest of the low, to love someone who destroyed the world, who makes him question the views that will allow him to do the only good thing he’s ever been able to do for it: to die for hope. 

and yet, it’s a nod to how incredibly capable of love komaeda is that he’s still willing to reach out for it, no matter how many times it’s burned him in the past, and how much it hurts him in the present to want it. he understands more than anyone that his feelings can only result in disaster. reading komaeda as someone who can’t help but go on loving anyway makes his story hurt so much worse. 

but, you miss a whole lot of that without an eye for komahina. seeing hinata as the eye of komaeda’s emotional hurricane (and keeping tabs on their connection accordingly) allows us to glimpse past the cracks in komaeda’s front. we see that komaeda’s worldview is less stable than he presents it as – hinata is where komaeda’s coping mechanisms, for better or worse, run up against a wall. that tends to be uncomfortable for a guy who’s just barely coping in the first place. then again, growth is supposed to be uncomfortable, isn’t it?

Part 3: The Future He Chooses

so, all of this considered, I think one of the most interesting ways you can flesh komaeda out post-canon is by asking how he’d find himself willing to accept love. whether that love is from hinata or the ultimates, whether it’s platonic or romantic, love is the thing that komaeda wants AND fears in equal measure more than anything. it’s the source of his self-loathing and his obsession with hope. it’s the reason he’s lived the way that he has for so long – lonely, and afraid of being anything but.

getting into a relationship wouldn’t solve komaeda’s problems for him, and that’s a good thing. it would force him to confront old ones, and probably create dozens of new issues for him, too. writing him through that makes for great character study!

hinata (or anyone else, for that matter) can’t love komaeda into loving himself, but he can give him a shoulder to cry on while he works through 22 years of fear and sorts through the wreckage of a worldview that’s long since stopped serving him. I don’t think his progress would be linear. but, I think that he could do it. komaeda learning to accept care is what his healing looks like. 

(well. and physically recovering from cancer and dementia. but that’s neither here nor there!)

a post-canon komaeda learning to love narrative is also in line with the themes of DR2. hinata leads the survivors out of the neo world program because he makes the decision to choose his own future, creating a new version of “hope” for himself and his classmates. likewise, komaeda can make the decision to save himself. that is, if he trusts himself enough to actually touch and hold the thing that he’s never been able to stop reaching out for, anyway.

after all, hinata is lucky too. (and if it turns out he isn’t… y'all like angst fics, right?)

(shoutout to @cynopter for looking this over and confirming that I'm not spouting nonsense <33 thank you for reading my thesis of the week <33)

[dustyrkives]

Crimson petals; more tiny footsteps

PAIRING: Ada Wong x pregnant wife reader

WARNINGS: RE6 Ada, soft Ada, domesticity, protective Ada, established relationship (married), GP Ada because I said so!!! Unprotected sex, soft sex, mentions of pregnancy symptoms and morning sickness, Amelia is the carbon copy of Ada, needy Ada, cock-warming, milf but dilf Ada, creampie, hickeys, breeding kink, and that's about it, I think???

SYNOPSIS: After indulging in each other's needs, there's no surprise that another mini-Ada is coming–and just Ada is more than happy to have another addition to the family, that doesn't stop her from wanting you though. No worries, she promises to be gentle.

This is part 2 of Sweet Embrace <3

Also because:

"So that's where my cardigan is." Ada mused as she stood against the doorframe that separates the dining area and the living room, her dark chocolate eyes tender with mirth–a look that only blessed you and your four-year-old daughter.

You sit comfortably on the couch, wearing the above-mentioned clothing, with a playful smile gracing your lips while Amelia sits beside you–playing with her toy.

"Oh, you mean this?" you coyly shrug, "I found it while I was organizing our closet and thought it would look nice on me."

Ada sighs and approaches you, "Didn't I tell you to leave the cleaning to me, darling?" she gently chides and sits on the vacant spot next to you, her hand caressing yours before palming the bump on your very obvious pregnant belly. "You shouldn't be exerting yourself." The short-haired woman says before pressing a gentle kiss on the dome of your stomach.

A downward smile curls on your lips as you look at your wife. It had been months since you got pregnant. Ada wasn't surprised when you told her while you were cuddling with her; she was rather pleased upon being informed that there will be a new addition to your growing family–Amelia jumped for joy, knowing that she'll have a playmate in the next coming months. The first trimester of your pregnancy was awful, but unlike last time with your pregnancy with Amelia, you handled it better–especially with your wife by your side.

With Amelia's help, she took care of you when you felt like you couldn't. Ada doesn't let you lift a finger, insisting that she'll do most of the grunt work. As expected, your wife's body is always on the go, ready to do what she deems necessary while you are carrying her second baby.

Upon your second trimester, things were a breeze. And now, you're at your third.

"It was nothing much," You sheepishly counter while a ghost of a smile flashes on Ada's lips. "Your stubborn attitude is what I love about you." She presses a kiss on your cheek, "But I also find it–"

"Frustrating?" You mused, and your wife shook her head sideways, "worrisome, baby." You purse your lips and lean against her while your eyes land on your daughter who tears her gaze away from her toy and looks at you then at Ada.

"Is mommy being stubborn again?" She bluntly–adorably asks. You can't help but let out a giggle while Ada grins. "Can you tell mommy not to work too hard, baby?"

Amelia puffs, "Mommy, mama said don't be stubborn!"

A playful pout forms on your lips, "Okay, okay." You concede and gently pinch your daughter's cheek, "I'll be good." Amelia beams and looks at your stomach, "When can I see my lil' sister?"

"Soon, my love," I say softly as I coax her to cuddle with me; the little girl doesn't hesitate and presses herself against you. Ada's gaze softens at the sight. "Careful, Amelia." She reminds, and your daughter nods.

A contented sigh leaves your lips, "I love you, my little baby."

"I love mommy too." Your daughter babbles, "and my baby sister."

Ada's gaze softens at the sight, "What about me, hm?" She coos and wraps her lithe arms around you and Amelia–she presses a kiss against your temple.

"I love you too." You say to her as you lock eyes with her.

A rare shy smile makes its way to her lips, she pulls you closer to her and presses a kiss on your shoulder blades then peppering more against the available expanse of your neck.

You close your eyes as warmth swells in your chest.

"Let me take care of you," Ada drawls as she gently ruts her hips while she takes you on the edge of the bed.

The older woman has her knees planted on the carpeted floor, your undergarments strewn across the floor, sweat coating both your bodies while you hug your baby bump.

A soft whine escapes Ada's lips as she gently thrusts her hips into your tight, warm cunt. She presses a tender kiss against the inner side of your knee as she lifts your thighs up. Ada grits her teeth and drives her hips gently.

"Momma of my girls," Ada grunts and flashes you a wolfish smile which you return with a delicious clamp around her throbbing cock. Ada retaliates with a short, sharp thrust that has you rolling your eyes back as she throws her head back while you squeeze the life out of her.

The room echoes with wet, obscene skin-slapping. The bed creaks and Ada can only hope her daughter is asleep by now while she fucks you. Her eyes look down at your prominent growing belly–a blissful image of another baby girl drawing clearer and clearer with each thrust of her dick against the fat of your cervix.

You instinctively cover your mouth, muffling a loud moan that was about to rip from your throat as she drives her hips deep, but careful not to hurt you and her unborn child.

"Maybe you'll give me another carbon copy, hm?" Ada grunts, "A baby girl with my eyes and my hair?" She looms above you, hands gripping the sheets as she resists the urge to fuck you senseless as her balls slap against the curve of your ass.

Despite pleasure ringing through you, you manage to spit out a coherent sentence. "B-but I want a baby that looks j-just like me!"

Your wife chuckles deeply as she jogs her hips, "Yeah? A baby just like you... hm," She presses her lips against yours–a gentle kiss. "Well, if our baby girl ends up looking like me, we can always try another, baby."

She groans, "You don't mind, right?"

A pathetic sob escapes your lips as you meet her hips, shamelessly.

And Ada takes that as a yes as she gives you a blissed out grin, "Answer me, momma."

You bite your lower lip and nod, "Y-yes–oh fuck–!"

"Uh-uh, no profanity, my love. The baby can hear you." She mumbles and closes the distance for a sloppy kiss as you're tethering at the precipice of your orgasm.

"Ada," You warn with another sob.

She didn't need to be told twice as she snaps her hips. You're practically sobbing–and you swear you can feel a sloshing pool of wet juices forming beneath the sheets, courtesy of your arousal and Ada's pre cum.

"Go on," The short, black-haired woman purrs, "Let go for me, my pretty momma."

Your eyes roll back, legs shaking as white, hot pleasure overcomes you, Ada follows after you, her eyes fluttering close as your orgasm rides with hers.

Ada's seed mixes with yours as she pushes her hips deep, leaving a mess as it oozes from your swollen pussy–Ada's wet balls pressing against your ass.

"Good girl," She praises and pecks your forehead. "Good momma. I'm going to pull out, m'kay?"

Tired, fucked-out, and satisfied, you nod.

Your wife smirks at your pitiful state before carefully gathering you in her arms. You press your face against the available bare skin, wanting to feel her.

Ada purrs as she gently lifts you off the edge of the bed before properly laying you against the sheets. The older woman gets a clean towel and wipes you clean before grinning like a bastard and tapping your clit with her index and ring finger.

You glare at your wife before she relents and takes off her shirt, knowing you want to feel her warm skin before sleeping.

She slips in the sheets with you, lithe arms wrapping around you protectively as she presses her front against your back as you both lay sideways.

While peppering kisses, Ada fills the air with whispered affections, her thumb gently rubbing circles around your pregnant belly before whispering:

"I want a son next."

[typewritingyip]

The Arcturus Missions

Part Twenty Four - Closer to Home

Part Twenty Three

———

There are projected to be at least seventeen planets or planetoids that have oceans or internal oceans, most of which are covered in ice. There are fifty four that are orbiting their star close enough that could facilitate liquid water instead of frozen.

Earth’s surface is around seventy-one percent water, where oceans hold around ninety-six and a half percent of all the planet's water. The water also exists in water vapor, through rivers and lakes, as well as in frozen form such as that of glaciers and icebergs. Further, water exists in the ground both in soil moisture and aquifers.

Lastly, humans are made up of roughly sixty percent water along with other materials. 

It is possible that years before, Cybertron had non-acidic water both on the surface of the planet and the undersurface, though now most if not all water that exists on the planet is acidic. 

All the rainfall and snowfall on Cybertron is acidic and harmful to cybertronian life. It has been lost to time whether the water on the planet has always been this acidic or not. 

—

Shuttle trips usually happened early in the morning, before night turns to day, so that everyone can get some rest on the trip before any potential fight. More than half the mecha aboard were asleep, but Sunstreaker and Bluestreak were still talking over a private comm.

Bluestreak was hiding his smile, eyes closed but still viewing the visual feed that Sunstreaker was sending him, head leaned back against the headrest of the seat, “I don’t mean offense, but life on your planet sounds so hectic.” Sunstreaker smiled, shrugged a bit while finishing off his food, “I think that’s just because our lives are so short comparatively.” He sighed a bit, brushed a hand through his curls.

Bluestreak onlined his optics briefly to look at Sunny’s, well, mech before offlining them again, “Don’t talk about that, please.” His voice almost wavered and Sunstreaker held his hands up, nodding a bit, “RIght, right. No talks about my impending doom.” He chuckled lightly but shook his head. 

“Blue, you know what organic life is like. You’ve seen more of it than I ever could, it’s not a topic we can simply avoid.” Sunny sat back on his cot, rubbing at his jaw a bit, and Bluestreak sighed deeply, “Please, just any other topic.” Nodding, Sunny looked down for a moment. 

Nodding again, Sunny looked back to the camera, “Why on Earth, sorry, uh, just why does everyone seem to be in on some inside joke about us?” Blue sat silently for a moment, a long moment, one which started to concern Sunny if he was being perfectly honest, “Blue?” Bluestreak cleared his throat a bit, “Sunny, I think we're landing, uh, you might want to get hooked back up.” “Ah.” Nodding some, Sunstreaker goes over and turns off the camera, “Talk to you in a minute then.” Before disconnections from the comm.

Blue sat there in silence, optics still offline even as his face burned with embarrassment. 

It took a moment for Sunstreaker to get around his suit, frowning down at it, “This is what’s going to kill me Blue, and there is nothing you can do about it.” So he started to pull on his assistance suit, wincing as it pinched and pulled.

The suits themselves weren’t terribly light, light enough to walk around in, even outside the mech but heavier than normal clothes. It was more similar to wearing kevlar head to toe, plus a riot helmet. The bottom half was always the easiest part to go on, it didn’t have any connection. Everything after that was another story. 

With the chest section next, it was hard to maneuver into, a solid piece that was designed to protect the vital organs and spine. Sunstreaker winced as the magnets activated against his shoulders, pulling lightly as the suit found the connectors under his skin. Those were his least favorite, the ones he couldn’t see, couldn’t scratch, and would never be removed. 

Next was the arms, which only became a different component in later iterations of drift tech, like what he and his brother had. Hound and Breakdown’s top sections were chests with light sleeves, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had armored sleeves. He got the left side on first, not wincing as the magnets found the connections in his shoulder and upper arm. Wincing when the physical connectors shocked him.

”Damnit.” It was rare when there would be a shock or a misconception like that.

Unclipping the arm, he adjusted the position and connected it again, not wincing this time before doing the same with the right arm. 

Last was the helmet, which had a connection to the upper part of his chest, reinforcing the spinal connection throughout. 

This was both the easiest and hardest part. Easiest for it was what truly connected you to your mech, made it to where you’d forget you were piloting a several ton machine around instead of being the machine. Hardest for it had the most connections, the external implants, the things that ooze and bleed when fighting overuse and the most painful connection point.

He slipped the helmet on and headed over towards his chair as the magnets found the connectors, sealing to the implants with a sickening squelching sound from the discharge. A shock ran through Sunny’s system as he got into the chair, grabbing several wires and cords to connect to his shoulders along with the base of his helmet.

Not every suit required the hard wire in, some people were able to have just their connections to the assistance suit and the piloting chair, but some people needed that little bit extra help. Usually the people that didn’t last long as pilots. Sighing, he brought up his visual feed and reactivated his audial processing.

Most mecha were still asleep, though it was clear that they were descending now. Bluestreak sat forward, holding his rifle and staring at the ground, probably waiting for Sunstreaker to be back in his seat. Smiling a bit, Sunny shifted and looked to Blue, “Do you know what planet this is?” Blue glanced over and smiled a bit, barely.

”Unfortunately, I think the only mech that knows that is Ironhide and Skyfire. It’s gotta be some place significant though.” Shaking his head slightly, Sunstreaker sits back, “Why?” Bluestreak smiled now and rolled his eyes, “Cause Skyfire is a pacifist. Less Starscream kicked him out of his own hab, again, he’s probably here to collect samples.” Sunny nodded and sighed.

Over the loudspeakers came a voice with a thicker accent than Sunny was used to among Cybertronian’s, “Alright mechs, this is your commander speaking. We are going to land on, whatever the pit this planet is called, in a few klicks. Enemy is already visible on the horizon so we’re probably going to come out of this guns blazing. We’ll set up camp later. Be ready.” When the audio cut people started to move. 

Sunstreaker stayed seated, only adjusting the position of the blades on his bracers with a slight sigh, glancing out the corner of his eye at Bluestreak as he was adjusting the scope on his rifle. Holding the absurdly large gun with such ease that it brought a slight smile to Sunny’s face.

The landing was touch, they hit the surface and bounced twice, the mechs around them swearing loudly, “You know just cause he’s a shuttle doesn’t mean he knows how to fly a freight shuttle!” Someone across from Blue and Sunny shouted at the front. It got only a few chuckles as the shuttle finally settled on the surface. 

Ironhide came out of the cockpit, waving his hand, “Oh shut up, everyone listen up. The surface of this planet is not great, it’s granular so I’d recommend adjusting your seams if you can. If you’ve ever been to New Kaon, it’s like that but well, you’ll see.” Many mecha groaned and started to adjust. Sunstreaker ran a diagnostic to check his seams before looking up at Ironhide, “Civi, you’re with me.” Sunstreaker stared at Ironhide and muted his mic, “Fuck.” before standing.

Although he stood taller than Ironhide, the mech was still intimidating. They moved over to the large door and Ironhide looked to Sunstreaker, “Go ahead and open the door Civi, you get to be the bearer of bad news.”Nodding, Sunny moved to hit the big red button, “Yes sir.” It was going to be at the very least, a long day. 

—

Sideswipe, Breakdown, and Jazz were the last ones left in Iacon. Prowl was away doing only god knows what for the Prime, and they were all getting rest before they’d have to ship out.

To put it nicely, Sideswipe was pouting, his arm in a sling to ensure that his shoulder would heal properly and not further injure itself. With Sunstreaker gone now, he was left with the two people who wouldn’t help him weasel his way back out of the apartment. Breakdown, who was still on bed rest so was of no help, and Jazz who was worrying like a mother hen.

When Jazz had gone through overuse, he hadn’t had a way to try and alleviate it. So he was reinforcing the need to not be in the suit, mostly trying to keep Sideswipe occupied now. Sideswipe was staring at the ceiling while Jazz was telling him the story of one of the many battles he’d been in when first arriving here. 

It was unbearable, at least for Sideswipe. 

—

The big door slowly lowered to the sand, revealing an oddly familiar sight to Sunstreaker, who was staring open mouthed at it. Ironhide sighs, resting his hands on his hips, “Well, tell them the bad news Civi.” Nodding a bit, Sunstreaker looks back at the mecha who were still getting up, “Uh, right. So, it appears we're on a planet with a lot of water.” Every bot groaned loudly and several swore again.

“Oh my primus, that is a lot of water.” Bluestreak was staring out the now open door, frowning at the expansive horizon, glancing at Sunstreaker, “Have you ever been to a place like this before?” Nodding again, Sunstreaker smiles sadly, “Yeah, something like that.” He sighed slowly and started down the ramp. 

Ironhide was still standing at the top of it, “Civi, where do you think you’re going?” Glancing back, Sunstreaker gestured at the water, “To the ocean, sir. If you don’t mind?” But he didn’t stop moving even while Ironhide started to follow, “Actually, I do mind kid. Now stop fragging around.” Sunstreaker reached down and ran his hand through the water, collecting some for a sample. Ironhide swore and grabbed his shoulder, “Kid, stop that! I’m serious.” 

Looking over his shoulder, for a moment Sunny really wanted to hit Ironhide in the face with the water before the diagnostic report popped up and he sighed. Standing and shaking off his hand, “It’s salt water. Only thing it’s good for is surfing and swimming.” Ironhide stared at him, “What?” With a shrug, he flicks what little water was left on his hand at him.

The look Ironhide gave was enough to make Sunstreaker take a half step back and Bluestreak to come over, resting a hand on his shoulder, “Right, so, water planet. Not great, so why are we here?” Diverting the topic would only get them so far.

With a deep sigh, Ironhide looks out across the water, “We don’t know why the Quintessons are here, what they want, or why they are staying above the water. For now, we’re supposed to watch and protect the shore line if we can.” Sunstreaker stared at the horizon, at where a scout ship was just hovering above the water.

It looked straight out of the pictures, just like the graining news feed, the moment that his planet had been invaded. 

He couldn’t just stand there and let it happen to another planet, “When are we going out there to kill them?” His voice was gruff, hands flexing with anger, “We’re not, Civi. It’s too dangerous plus the water is corrosive.” Ironhide was staring out that way too, frowning, “But I don’t know why they aren’t attacking us yet.” Sunstreaker glances at him, shaking his head and moving to help the others with unloading the shuttle. 

Though it was obvious to him, it wouldn’t be to any of these people, none of them had grown up watching the broadcast in schools. None of them had grown up watching the pilot program grow and heroes arise from nothing. Not a single one of the mecha around him knew this is what it looked like when the Quintessons were planning an invasion of a planet.

Sunstreaker had studied it, every pilot did, trying to find the tells of these alien invaders. He’d studied it before his parents died, for a research project on modern history, he’d built a damned diagram of these things for a grade. 

Setting down the crate, he was breathing heavily, his blood boiling. They were standing around doing nothing for a planet that looked so much like his own. Standing on the coastline for a moment he could remember the feeling of sun and a breeze on his skin, surfboard in hand while Sideswipe flirted with some of the girls on the beach. Board shorts instead of assistance suits, open air instead of his cockpit confinement.

The entire shuttle was nearly unpacked when he started to come out of his angered stupor, having just been moving crates from the ship to the sand, on autopilot and stewing darkly. 

Earth or this planet, he wasn’t going to let it happen again, he adjusted the oxygen levels in his suit and adjusted the seams before starting towards the water. 

It was as soon as the water hit his feet that he adjusted his stance, his cadence to wade out into the ocean as he’d done hundreds of times before. He could hardly hear the murmuring of mecha behind him, eyes focused on the ship in the distance, this was not a mistake he’d let his species make again.

“What are you doing Sunstreaker?” Ironhide was standing at the shoreline shouting as Sunstreaker was around waist deep in the water now, moving deeper and activating a certain setting. Sunny turned on his comm, glow of the visor shifting, “I was designed to fight in these specific conditions Commander, sir. I’m originally from a place called Florida back home, I was designed to be not only in the ocean but to fight in it.” He glanced back at the shoreline, where everyone was watching him like he was insane.

Good, he’d rather be considered crazy than not be considered at all. 

—

The waves were washing up over Sunny’s shoulders and his cockpit had cooled down significantly the further out he got, running scans to show all the nearby organic life. Ironhide was still shouting in his ear, but he was focused. 

It was too much like home, it was too much like the past he hadn’t been around to stop. If he could stop it from happening here, then it would give him some sense of peace in this crazy life. The ship wasn’t far now and that was made very clear when a laser light hit his shoulder, “Oh shit.” The ocean around him exploded as he dived under the water. 

Too much like Earth, so much like the news footage they watched in school, it was bringing back the strongest memories that were trying to drag Sunstreaker to the ocean floor. 

Most explosions were around him and he was just barely avoiding them, kicking at the water to get closer to the ship, to hopefully mess with its tracking. His comm was muffled from the water, the voices on the shore garbled and unclear. Though it was clear at least one voice was in fact screaming.

Sunstreaker’s helm broke the surface, cockpit still submerged but dry, though he still took deep gasping breaths as if he’d actually been underwater. It took Sunny a second to reorient himself, finding the ship significantly closer than before and it was easy to smile, “Not much further, come on Sunny.” His voice was quiet, comm still garbled as water was pooling.

A single scout fell from the opening hatch of the ship, it probably was one of maybe two on board, and it hit the water a few yards from Sunstreaker who stared for a single moment before starting to kick his way over, nearly growling.

One of the blades on his arm connected with the things beak, slashing through part of its face and spraying green gore across Sunny’s yellow plating, turning it a sickly brown but it didn’t matter. It dove at Sunstreaker and they both went under the waves.

—

Bluestreak had his scope trained on the horizon while Ironhide paced at the shore line, everyone else had been ordered back and kept at a distance, “He’s reckless.” Ironhide glanced at Bluestreak, who was watching through his scope, “As you’ve said, he’s a civilian. This is probably what he did back home.” Blue winced when he saw a large splash and a yellow ped appear over the waves.

Sighing deeply, Ironhide turned back to the fight in the distance, frown deepening, “What’s a Florida?” Bluestreak laughed, lowering his gun to look at Ironhide, “That’s been eating you alive, hasn’t it sir?” Ironhide harrumphed. 

—

Tentacles were wrapping around Sunstreaker as he fought the Quintesson, one arm pinned to his side but the other still slashing at the damned thing. It was bleeding everywhere like a person stabbed and turning the water green from its stunning clear blue.

Sunstreaker was struggling a bit, his cameras were starting to blur from the water and blood mixing together, his foot coming up to try and catch the side of the alien. Getting one tentacle caught in the crease of his knee, he pulled till the appendage came off. The Quintesson scout screamed.

It was trying to drag him deeper into the water, keeping one arm pinned even as Sunny was tearing it apart, blades cutting into its skin, leaking blood like it didn’t need it. It was almost funny when it wrapped a tentacle around the neck of his mech.

His blade and arm went into the alien with a screeching of metal, and all Sunny could do was grab whatever was there then pull.

It exploded, not literally but just about, its internals splattered across Sunstreaker and the ship above them as the thing screamed and thrashed. Grabbing hold of it the best that he could, Sunstreaker hauled himself up and out of the water, looking up at the ship before turning to look at shore. 

Though Sunny couldn’t see him, he knew Blue was watching out for him so he gestures to the ship above before shifting his stance the best he could to jump. A series of gunshots hit the hull of the ship which lowered towards the sea out of defence, just enough for Sunstreaker to jump and grab the edge of the opening, pulling himself in. Disappearing from sight.

“Who’d have thought the inside would be as ugly as the outside.” Sunny mumbled, moving through the space carefully, arms up and ready for an attack. The ship wouldn’t have moved if the Quint dead in the water was the only one. 

The cockpit didn’t really have a visual of the outside, but it did have a Quintesson to kill. So, Sunny dragged one of his blades along the wall, which sounded like nails on a chalkboard before he grinned as the thing turned, “Hello ugly, do you regret coming here yet?” And he dove on the thing.

It died quickly, cleaved in half, splatting the space in green and its tentacles curled tight. Sunstreaker was caked in gore, it stuck in his seams and stuck to his plating. Then the ship listed and Sunny slammed into the wall, grunting as he hit it and it jarred him in his chair. That moment brought him back to reality, back to clarity and he stared down at his gore covered hands.

Or well, his suit's gore covered hands. He wasn’t on Earth, they had been sent to observe and he had completely violated that order and handled the threat single handedly, mostly, “Shit.” He wasn’t even sure when he went from thinking clearly to thinking like, like…

It wasn’t even worth mentioning, “Shit.” And the ship hit the water.

———

A/N

So, I’m sick. I wanted to post this chapter hours ago but I just finished it. It really isn’t beta read, I might come back through and fix it when I feel better, but I really wanted to post my Sunny chapter.

But yeah, I am sick. I thought I might be better but I simply am not. I found out the hard way people with pots can’t take Sudafed without feeling like dying and having a resting heart rate of like.. 100. It was miserable today.

Tags:

@lunarlei68 @whirlywhirlygig @loop-hole-319 @pixillandjester @alek-the-witch @not-a-moose-in-disguise @goddessofwind8water @neurologicalglitch @dersereblogger @pixel-transformers @mrcrayonofdoom @wireplaces @twilightfreefaller @original-blog-name-2 @devilangel657 @robbin-u @childofprimus @miniartistme @starwold @tea-enthusiasm @valeexpris606 @celticdoggo @bird599 @agentsquirrelsgotrobots @aquaioart @dimencreasatlas @thatwandercat @artdagz @seisha974 @starscreamloverfr @halenhusky309 @leethepiper @cat-cassette @blue-wrens @sirassban @astridkolch @cosmique-oddity @garbageenthusiast @osqindaxend @xervias @azulabutterfly @fryseem @spring-mc @echo-circuit @aghostsnail @wooblewooble @ask-glory-haddock-and-others @nonsscarpheap @magichats @iminahole247 @omgflyingderpywhale @pour1tin @thetrexartist @naaaafam @elegantmantaray @emichusai

And once again thank you to @keferon for this amazing AU!

[bekolxeram]

A whole day late to @bucktommyfluffebruary's day 1 prompt: non-sexual intimacy. Inspiration strikes suddenly, what can I say?

You can also read it on AO3.

Golden Hour

rated G | 1027 words

“Morning, team!” Buck walks into the firehouse with an extra bounce in his step, looking the most carefree he’s been for months.

“What got you so… woah,” Hen begins questioning, but stops in the middle of the sentence once she fully turns around and takes a good look of her strangely jovial co-worker.

“What’s wrong? Is there something on my face?” Buck instinctively touches his face in response to Hen’s reaction. He has a hard time deciphering her expression; She seems… surprised, astonished, but at the same time, shocked, and confounded.

“No! Not really. You seem… happier,” Hen puts on a reassuring smile, “but the bags under your eyes seem like they came straight from the Milan Fashion Week, and your hair looks like you’ve just rolled out of bed.”

The entire 118 bore witness to Buck’s post-Tommy heartbreak. Yes, he obsessively checked his phone and got addictive to baking, maybe he let his stubble grow out a day or two more than it should, but he never, ever, neglected personal hygiene or grooming. He always made sure to dress like a functioning member of the society before heading to work, what happened outside of shift was his own business.

“I used to know someone like this at school,” Chimney joins in. “His girlfriend dumped him just before summer break. Then he came back to school looking like a hobo, but at the same time, happy as the Buddha. He told me he went on a trip to discover himself.”

“But Buck was with us last shift, 48 hours ago. What life-changing destination could he have gone to in such a short amount time?” Hen furrows her brows in confusion.

“By trip, I mean an acid trip,” Chimney snickers, then he turns to face Buck in chorus with Hen, waiting for an answer.

“I can assure you, I’ve never taken any mind altering substance before coming to work. That would be irresponsible!” Buck objects, attempting to halt this dangerous speculation at once.

Just as Hen and Chimney are about to interrogate further, Eddie chimes in while slowly sipping on his coffee, “Buck and Tommy are back together without telling us.”

Gasps, then cheers fill the room.

“Wait, how? Did Tommy tell you?” Buck asks.

“No one told me anything,” Eddie takes another sip from his mug, “I can just tell, from your hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?”

“Oh! Yeah!” Hen’s whole face is lit up by her realization, “the hair thing, right?” She vaguely gesture at her head.

“Exactly.” Eddie snaps his fingers at Hen.

“What hair thing?” It’s now Buck’s turn to be utterly confused.

“I don’t get it either,” Chimney turns his attention to his brother-in-law. “Is Tommy bad at picking shampoo? Or hair product? Can’t you just bring your own?”

“Um… I don’t know.”

“You’ll get it once you’ve spent enough time with them,” Eddie sighs.

“I’ve spent plenty of time with them. One is my oldest friend, the other is my brother by marriage!”

“With both of them together, as a third wheel,” Eddie adds.

Chimney grimaces. “Ugh, no! Is it a sex thing?”

“It’s appropriate safe in public,” Hen clarifies, “as long as you don’t find two people of the same gender being in love inappropriate.”

“Oh, okay,” Chimney nods in understanding, “but, what about the bags under your eyes?”

“Um… Tommy and I…”

Buck’s interrupted by Eddie.

“Stop. That one’s definitely a sex thing.”

It takes Chimney another few months to figure out what the “hair thing” actually is.

Buck and Tommy have been invited to dinner at the Han’s.

The four of them were anxious about the possible awkwardness, but Chimney and Tommy settle right back into their old buddy dynamic once the conversation starts flowing.

“I think you two fixed my brain when you showed up all sooty at the hospital. I was groggy all week, but connecting the dots that you guys had been making out? That was the first time I felt like I could finally think clearly,” Chimney recounts his experience coming down with viral encephalitis, and marrying the love of his life at a hospital.

“A hospital, what is it?” Tommy asks, barely containing his giggle.

“It’s a big building with patients, but that’s not important right now,” Chimney bursts into laughter in unison with Tommy by the time his finishes his sentence.

“Um… What’s the joke?” Maddie asks, while both Buckley siblings frown, seemingly puzzled.

“Airplane! The greatest comedy movie of all time!” Chimney exclaims.

“And the most quotable,” Tommy supplements.

“Neither of you have watched Airplane? Tommy, you didn’t introduce your man to the most influential film in your life?”

The Buckley siblings shake their head.

“Alright, we’re watching it after dinner.”

Chimney has seen Airplane! countless times before. The simple, sometimes childish humor of this classic has been his go-to for years whenever he needs a pick-me-up.

He may have the ability to recite the entire movie from start to finish, but the source of the enjoyment now comes from watching his friends and loved ones’ reaction to this comedic masterpiece, to experience the amusement and wonder anew from their fresh eyes.

“We have clearance, Clarence.”

“Roger, Roger. What’s our vector, Victor?”

Chimney turns to focus on the viewers’ reaction, instead of the screen.

Maddie’s almost crying with laughter, while shoving a few kernels of popcorn into her mouth. Popcorn with butter and pickle juice, the exact snack she’s been craving.

Buck, on the other hand, is laying his head onto Tommy’s shoulder.

And Tommy, he absentmindedly anchors his hand into Buck’s hair, and ruffles the curls around.

Chimney himself would gladly push off whoever dares to touch his carefully styled hair, but Buck’s happily leans into his boyfriend’s touch.

“Is that correct phraseology in aviation?” Buck beams at Tommy, half flirting and half genuinely asking to satisfy his curiosity.

“Yeah, more or less. That’s why it’s a classic,” Tommy gazes back at Buck softly, hand still messing up the younger man’s hair.

Buck shows his dimples, nestles his head at the crook of Tommy’s neck, and continues watching the movie.

My brother is in good hands.

Chimney tells himself silently.