#because at the end of the day the show was about

[elodieunderglass]

Hi! As someone who grew up in (I think?) New England and now lives in the UK, is living outside the US all it's made out to be? I know you moved a while ago and didn't go to "escape the US", but I imagine you can offer some insight. I'm sorry to be projecting some envy on to you, but the life you describe seems so lovely and livable. Your neighbors, your chickens, your gardens--it seems like you have some actual community. I (probably incorrectly) picture you living in the stereotypical British cottage that all of the British chicken-keeping companies seem to use to advertise their products. When I picture life in Europe, I picture the small fragments of life that we get from you and other bloggers, like the one with the escapist pet llama in France. I know that the UK has plenty of problems, and that we are only seeing slivers of your actual life, but do you think there's a different sense of community and livability over there that we don't have here? New England is also so standoffish that it might just be negatively skewing my perception of the US, too. Thanks for your thoughts, if you want to give them!

I’m sorry it took so long to reply!

I'm going to write a personal response about the impact of material conditions on parenting, because I think that's the most useful response and outcome. However, this response will be missing a lot of the political framing that it ought to have. I believe that describing the policies and infrastructure that the UK has, and how they impact on myself, explains a lot about how I am able to parent, what my life looks like, and in turn how that impacts a society. I think it is useful to outline SPECIFIC POLICIES and show what they do, because understanding specific material changes is a necessary part of any shift, let alone revolution. So this is not about escaping anywhere, or anywhere being better than anywhere else; it's about frameworks that I use which are (essentially) nonexistent in the USA, and how they contribute to a liveable society. It might seem like "why does a question about your life sounding nice, with chickens, start with 'maternity leave'?" but... this is the answer.

1. Parental Leave In the UK, parental leave is a minimum 6 months. After the first 6 weeks of full pay, the government pays you a very small stipend every week (currently £188/week) plus a very small child benefit. Some jobs offer better-paid leave as a benefit. You accrue your fully paid vacation time (6+ weeks) while on leave, and therefore most people use it at the end of their leave to pad it out. Parental leave can usually be split between parents. A perfectly normal thing is for a mother to take the first 6 months, then hand the baby to Dad for his three months off with it. Impacts of parental leave on my personal life: - I had time and space to adjust to being a parent. - I was able to pay my bills while not working. - Our children went to nursery (daycare) when they were over the age of 1. - I was able to return to work in the exact same job, back into the benefits of working (which, for me, include intellectual exercise and making a positive impact on the world.) Impacts of parental leave on society: - "it takes a village to raise a child" - well, here's the bloody village. - You spend time attentively raising a baby, in a stage of life where that returns a lot of dividends. - You have a year to make "parenting friends," forming networks and not being isolated. Everyone else with a baby the same age is doing exactly the same thing too. - Babies grow up in social circles with friends pre-installed. - Parents develop support networks. - "Toddler group" culture is normalised. On parental leave you are supported to build and structure a social life. - There is daily foot traffic and people moving around towns during the day, because Not Everyone is At Work. Some number of mothers are in coffee shops with babies every day of the week. Some number of parents are always drifting through libraries on a Thursday morning. In any town there will be adults in their 30s engaging with local resources, shops, events, classes, museums, culture, and friendships during the weekday - because they are having a year off with their baby. This is hard to articulate, but has huge knock-on effects. - after all, things like shops and museums and libraries are expected to be Always Open (staffed by workers) but workers are also expected to be Always Working (at places that are open) so when are working people going to use these resources? - people can be friendly and know the people in their community if they have had some time, space and reason to meet them.

Culture of part-time working In the UK it's very normal for kids to have two working parents, with one - or both - parents working part-time. That's what my husband and I do. Impacts of part-time working on my family: - My partner and I each spend one day a week with our nursery-age child while the other two are in school, allowing us to have a relationship with the youngest that isn't a constant four-way tug-of-war. - We meet our friends in a regular, routine heartbeat of connection, social expression, and support. It is extremely good to see your good friends once a week, and maintaining friendships over years is extremely good for you. - it's very good for the kids. not only do they have a lot of parental attention (which improves behaviour, teaches them skills, makes them good citizens, etc) but they see their own best friends all the time, building their own relationships and connecting THEM to the networks of "village." - we have adults during the week who can do things like go to the bank, pick up prescriptions, or do other capacity-balancing things within work hours. - we can collect our schoolchildren from school and they don't need afterschool care 2 days out of 5, saving money and letting us see our kids. - working part time means that we need to take less time off work over school half-terms and holidays. Impacts of part time working on society: - more working adults are available during the week to do things like the PTA, local committees, local volunteering, local mutual aid, local classes and groups. More working adults can do things like walk their dogs, have allotments, and take their kids swimming. Working adults can run toddler groups for new parents, who then return to work part-time, to come and help run the toddler group. - I feel like this is obvious, but if you want a society with amenities, then you have to staff and use the amenities. - If you don't have part-time workers, you're relying on retired and nonworking people to run your communities during the week - and they do a brilliant job! - but a balanced society should have people of different ages and abilities working together. - again, you have people in coffee shops in the week; you have people USING things and DOING things in the week. - you are NOT forcing one parent into Permanent Babycarer Role and one parent into Permanent Worker Role! This is threaded through all of these points, but you do NOT have to set up a permanent Stay At Home Parent / Working Parent dynamic when your society offers infrastructure for flexibility and supportive policies.

More Holiday (and different school holidays) Okay, so you're a working parent in the USA. You get 2 weeks of vacation time a year... and your kids are off school for 10-12 weeks of summer. how do you work and also raise your kids? well, usually through some unholy feats of juggling, expensive summer camps, and relying HEAVILY on family. This isn't sensible or necessary. (It's also incredibly hard on American teachers.) but it DOES mean that parents are in a vulnerable state in America. In many American families, the three-month childcare gap in summer makes it really hard for women in particular to work, widening inequality. In the UK, workers usually have 6 weeks of holiday. School summer holidays are only 6 weeks long. There are lots of other holidays - every six weeks, kids get a week off for Half Term - but with two parents and a culture of part-time working, you can just about cover it every year, and still have a bit of vacation time for yourself, Christmas, and travel. What this means for my family: - We can have three kids and two nearly-full-time jobs. - We see a reasonable amount of our children. What this means for society: - you've possibly picked up on the recurring theme that the USA requires a Designated Parent to be removed from the workforce/society and turned into a permanent caretaker, because otherwise the family couldn't manage the admin. The knock-on effects (resentful caretaker, resentful breadwinner, stressed out children, family with less economic/emotional resilience, caretaker expected to do all domestic chores and admin, breadwinner expected to exhaust themselves to provide resources, children do not interact/engage with breadwinner) form the backbone of the American family unit, which is not a great (or default) way of actually raising kids. - another huge expectation in America is that Family and the Church will step in to provide this missing material support - i.e. church summer camps. or grandparents taking the kids. Which - what do you do if you're not Christian? if you're estranged? if you're queer? if you moved away from the small town where that would have worked? if your parents are harmful or unsafe? again, policy changes and infrastructure are making family life workable.

Better Nursery Options (and nursery support) The UK has some of the worst nursery options and highest bills in Europe, I think? (citation needed) but it's still cheaper and higher-quality than the USA. My mother in the USA is always ranting about "don't you want to raise your OWN children?" and "they will be harmed by their carers, or made to watch TV!" but on the contrary - I LIKE my kids having multiple caretakers and a qualified professional care team. they are NOT watching TV. their nursery staff take them to do LOVELY THINGS and I can work an ENTIRE DAY without being CLIMBED ON. There is SOME financial support available for sending kids to nursery. From the age of 3, or younger if the parents are low-income, kids receive 30 hours a week free childcare from the government. (in practice they've just changed this and it isn't as great as it sounds but it's a slight savings). What this meant for my family: - I could afford three kids. And they are EXACTLY three years apart (lol). this means that as each child turned 3 and got cheaper childcare, the next one started, so we were never paying 2x nursery bills. - This allowed us to have children, a nice number and a nice age gap, who would therefore grow up together as a nice sibling set, but we could afford it and afford their childcare. - this literally shaped my family. size, age gap, and choices. everything about their dynamics, their relationships, and their future as siblings was shaped by this random scrap of policy. What this means for society: - EVEN STAY-AT-HOME MOTHERS IN BRITAIN SEND THEIR THREE-YEAR-OLD KIDS TO NURSERY. - EVEN CHILDMINDERS (people who run in-home childcare facilities alongside raising their own kids) PUT THEIR KIDS IN OTHER NURSERIES! - that's right - stay-at-home mothers DESERVE breaks. it's an EXHAUSTING job, with no recharge time or holiday, and tremendous pressure to be perfect all the time. - it is so, so normal to use nursery. it's not a bad choice, or a place to "park" your children, or something Bad Parents do, or something you Must Become A Stay At Home Parent to Avoid Using. there are no terrors of satanists or people being hurt or kids being locked in closets, as many Americans do worry about. having help with childcare is just a wider village, a care team, another aspect of your kids' lives. - seriously, if you speak to American parents on the internet, it isn't just a financial thing - daycare is perceived as being BAD for children, something a good mom should break herself to avoid using. - in the UK it's... nursery. Kids go to nursery. you pick the days. they go and pick daisies. - it's okay to have a break from parenting and being Touched all the time. - it's very good for kids to start making friends and having other carers.

Decent schooling In England, free public schooling starts at aged 4. children wear uniforms from age 4. hot meals are about £3 a day and are free for the first few years. there are no metal detectors or shootings. kids learn phonics, cursive, maths, tech, cooking, art, sports, etc. at a reasonable standard, not dependent on local property taxes - okay, so, background: in the USA schools budgets are state-set, but are ALSO often linked to local property taxes and local funding pots. so schools in "poor" areas generally have less resources, while schools in areas with nice houses and Good School Districts have a completely different experience. In some USA schools, teachers have to use food banks and buy pencils for their own students. It's all pretty wild and inconsistent. This is somewhat true in the UK (better schools tend to be in 'better' areas) but the funding is more consistently given and there is a national-level monitoring and regulation program. (it isn't left up to 50 insane separate states who all want to strip school budgets and cut their funding to do this according to Personal Vibes.) this means that you can just... send your kids to school. they learn things. and then come home. It's fine. you can just send your kids to school. everyone else is too. Many communities are walkable, and "driving kids to school" is not the default. Kids are expected to become independent earlier, and society is expected to be safer. at the age of 11 they usually walk to school with their friends. What this means for my family: - my kids are pleasant, the older two can read, they have opportunities and are supported. I don't feel like school is damaging them. On the contrary. - it isn't on me as (Femme Parent) to be their entire cultural and intellectual education. they're exposed to diverse viewpoints, people, and teachers. their mental landscapes are broader and more resilient than if it had just been me. - (I was homeschooled, you see.) What this means for society: - children are mildly educated. - children are fairly safe when they're Away From You. - teachers are a reasonable profession that's normal to go into. and teachers live fairly normal lives. - social inequality is reduced through equity introduced in education. - educational opportunities are more consistent and less stratified. - children can safely get out of family homes (and parents can work).

walkable communities, but you got that.

public transport, but you know about that.

socialised healthcare, but you get that. As a result of all these things, raising a family is materially different in the UK, with effects that knock on throughout. With one or two tweaks - now you have present and engaged fathers. Now women can be working parents without breaking themselves in half. Now babies make friends they'll keep their whole lives. Now you CAN be distant from toxic family because you don't need family support to raise kids. But all of those things could be put into policy. They are not something British people invented. ANY SOCIETY THAT LAYS THINGS OUT COULD ACHIEVE THIS. And I think that's worth saying and laying out. Livable communities can be made livable with livable infrastructure. infrastructure is something we can make.

[littlegrapejuice]

Grid Mum 4 | MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: The calm before the storm- and the storm - that was the Miami Grand Prix.

Author's Note: idk what happened but inspo was just gone???? Like the miami gp was just not it and i wasn't motivated at all to write it, esp when i was getting ideas for the next parts given that imola was already happening😭 hope you still enjoy this part, even tho it was made w half love lol

F1 MASTERLIST🏎 | Previous Part | Next Part

You needed a break. Max needed a break.

You both debated going away for a week before the Miami Grand Prix was to happen, but then you decided otherwise. You and Max would simply stay home in Monaco, not putting one foot outside until you would have to leave for the US.

The plan was simple: sleep, eat, drink, watch stupid TV shows, and repeat that every day.

But then, the plan changed when your phone started blowing up.

You and Max had been back for a couple days already, having updated the rookies about your whereabouts and wishing them a good rest before the next race. However, it seemed that they eventually took it as their cue to invade your couple time and transform it into family time.

The first text was from Ollie, wondering if you wanted to have lunch with him after he had finished biking with Carlos.

The second was from Liam, asking if you were free to play some video games.

The third from Kimi, needing a reminder on how to use a maths formula because he couldn’t read his own handwriting.

The fourth from Gabriel, sending you a recipe that you could try together.

The fifth from Isack, just wanting to visit you.

And the sixth from Jack, offering you to join him on a shopping trip.

You were about to reply to all of them, until Max stole your phone and started typing.

“You better be nice to them!” You warned Max, trying to read what he was writing.

“I always am”, he claimed while hiding the screen away from you. “Please, don’t contact my girlfriend anymore during our break. You’ll see her next week in Miami”, Max read out loud as he typed the words. “And I signed my name, obviously.”

“Obviously”, you repeated as you rolled your eyes. “I would enjoy seeing them, though. You know that?”

“I know, yeah.” Max handed you your phone back, leaning back on the couch as he glanced at you. “But focus on me for the next few days, please?”

It was hard to refuse his request when he was looking at you with such love in his eyes, his voice soft and almost pleading. You had to admit that spending some peaceful and romantic time with Max sounded perfect right now – exactly what you needed after the triple header.

And Max was right, you could always wait until Miami to see the rookies.

But it seemed like they couldn’t wait until then.

After texting each other in a groupchat you weren’t a part of, they agreed to give you a couple days of rest alone. Then, some of them decided that they missed you a bit too much. So that’s why one evening, you ended up with a facetime from Ollie and Gabriel.

“Hello!” Ollie said as soon as he saw your face on his screen. He turned his phone to the side for a second, showing Gabriel who waved at you. “I hope I’m not bothering you by calling, but we have a slight issue.”

“Hi, you’re not bothering at all. Everything alright?” You noticed that Ollie and Gabriel were outside, and wondered if they were having a problem in the streets of Monaco.

“You can’t be mad,” Ollie warned.

“Why would I be?” Straightening up on the couch, you were almost getting worried.

“We wanted to surprise you with dinner”, Gabriel explained as he re-entered the frame, “but we got lost.”

“Lost? Wait, we’ll circle back to the dinner thing after. But what do you mean you’re lost?”

“Well…” Ollie scratched the back of his neck, seemingly nervous. “I asked Liam for your address, and he didn’t really give it. Like–”

“He just gave us directions from Ollie’s place, but I think we took a wrong turn somewhere.”

“How do you even get lost in Monaco?” Max, who had just appeared behind you, asked. He had his arms crossed, and raised an eyebrow at the rookies.

“Give them a break, Max.” You then focused back on Ollie and Gabriel. “He’s not wrong, though. Kinda hard to get lost in such a small city.”

“Not our proudest moment for sure”, Gabriel admitted.

A silence then settled for a few seconds, as you debated over your next course of actions. While you were thinking, the rookies were already expecting you to tell them to go home and forget about their surprise dinner. But you thought about how sweet it was of them, and decided to welcome them to your home after you exchanged a glance of confirmation with Max.

“Tell you what: Gabriel, I’ll text you my address and you look it up. Ollie, you stay on the phone with me and I’ll guide you if necessary. Does that sound good?”

“Yes, thank you so much!” Ollie’s smile was bright and wide on your screen. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

“I’ll set the table, then”. Max sighed and then left from where he had been standing behind you, walking to the kitchen.

For the next ten minutes or so, you stayed on facetime with Ollie. You could hear Gabriel guiding him through the streets of Monaco, occasionally confirming to him that it was the right way. Then, the two rookies eventually arrived in front of your building and you hung up before ringing them in.

It seemed that they hadn’t been lying about their so-called surprise dinner, as you noticed that they both had their hands full with bags when they entered. You helped them settle everything down on the counter, putting out the food as they listed what they had brought.

“Okay, so I made mini pizzas. Like loads of them with different garnitures, we just gotta cook them. I also brought muffins – Liam recommended a place where he bought some when he was here.”

“Thank you so much, Ollie.” You smiled at him, before handing the pizzas to Max for him to put them in the oven.

“And I brought feijoada, which my mum helped me make. It’s a specialty from back home,” Gabriel explained.

“Okay, wow. This all sounds great, thank you boys.” You didn’t think your smile could get bigger, but it did. “Go sit down if you want, Max and I will finish preparing everything.”

“You’re sure?” Gabriel asked. “We can help.”

“Yeah, we definitely can!” Ollie agreed with a passionate nod.

“It’s fine, don't worry. Just go and watch some TV,” Max told them as he motioned to the living-room. “We’ll take care of the rest, thanks for the food.”

“No problem”, Ollie said before he and Gabriel went to sit on the couch.

The rookies observed the room, trying to look for every little detail that would help them know more about you and Max. They obviously noticed the rather out-of-place simulator, which was a harsh contrast to the carefully decorated shelf next to it. They saw that there were a lot of pictures of you and Max throughout the years, amongst which a few seemed to have been taken during race weekends.

After they had analysed almost every picture depicting yours and Max’s love story, they decided to follow Max’s instructions and turned on the TV to find something to watch while waiting for the food to heat. Meanwhile, you and Max were still in the kitchen.

“So much for a bit of peace before Miami,” Max mumbled into your shoulder as he hugged you from behind.

“I know, I’m sorry. But how could I have refused when they just wanted to get dinner with us?”

“It’s okay,” Max assured you. “They’re lucky they didn’t try to pull this move last week because you were all mine.”

“I’m always yours, though. You know that,” you reminded him as you turned around to face him.

“Except when I have to share you with the kids”, Max said. His arms were around your waist, which helped him pull you closer to him.

“Even then, I’m still yours.” Your tone was soft and loving, almost making Max fall all over again for you. You gave him a kiss during which you felt him smile against your lips, before you escaped his hold. “Gonna check on the food, wait.”

Max leaned back against the counter as he observed you making your way around the kitchen, opening the oven and carefully looking at the food as if it would tell you itself that it was ready. You confirmed to Max that it was indeed good to go, and you both brought the food to the table.

“What are you kids watching?” Max asked as he stood behind the couch where Ollie and Gabriel were sitting.

“Still channel-hopping,” Gabriel replied. “We’ll just turn off the TV anyways if we’re eating.”

“Wait, no. Check the sports channel first,” you requested.

The Brazilian driver did as he was told, suddenly aware of how focused you were on the TV as you were waiting to see what was on. A couple seconds later, burnt orange filled the screen as the sound of applause could be heard.

“Okay, that seems like a good one.” You quickly sat down next to Ollie, waiting to see more info about what was happening. “Food is ready, by the way. So we can eat after they finally show who the hell is playing.”

Fortunately for you, and unfortunately for the drivers, there was a tennis match ongoing. As soon as you were aware of the current score and watched a couple points, you reluctantly got up from the couch and made your way to the table – your eyes weren’t leaving the TV and Max knew he now had to explain your attitude to the rookies.

“We’re done for, guys.” Max sighed, as he shook his head with a smile on his face. “She won’t pay attention to us if there’s tennis.”

“That’s a lie!” You denied. “I’ll talk to you during changeovers”, you told them with an innocent smile.

“Do you like those players?” Ollie wondered. “I never knew you followed tennis.”

“Because I have to pretend to like the padel you all seem to enjoy so much.” You tried to be dramatic, but there was honestly a part of truth. Padel wasn’t as entertaining as tennis to you, and you were definitely complaining everytime Max wanted to talk to you about it. “Tennis is superior, and you need to realise it.”

“You’re very passionate about it”, Gabriel pointed out.

“Trust me, she is. I remember when Sinner was in Abu Dhabi last year, she begged me to arrange a meeting between them.” Max was teasing you, never planning on letting you live this down.

“Because you were literally hiding the fact that you had met him!” You reminded him. “I had to hear about it from Oscar, who casually mentions my favourite player is in the same paddock as me.”

“Oh, I met him too!” Ollie added. “He’s such a nice guy, really cool too!”

“And that’s why he’s my back-up plan if Max ever leaves me. Those two would be as well if they weren’t happily taken,” you said as you pointed to the TV where Ruud and Fritz were playing.

“Once again, I am not planning on ever leaving you because you are happily taken too”

“You better not,” Gabriel warned. “We’ll take her side anyway.”

“True”, Ollie agreed with a confident nod.

You laughed at the support the rookies were showing you, knowing that you would win custody against Max. Not that you would ever have to fight him for it, because Max would soon make sure that you were tied to him for life.

Although it had become kind of a late dinner due to Ollie and Gabriel getting lost, the four of you still enjoyed the food while the tennis match was playing in the background. You thanked the rookies for taking the time to cook, complimenting their skills that easily surpassed Max’s – he tried to accuse you of lying, but you both knew that Max was a good cook only if you were not far away from him and the dish was simple enough.

If anyone were to observe the scene that was taking place, they could only be able to guess that you were a real family. You and Max might be seen as very young parents, probably victims of teen pregnancy, but the love and care that you were giving the rookies would be extremely obvious to everyone around you.

You thought that you would only be talking about racing with three drivers sitting at the table, but you realised that you had more in common as you all shared bits and pieces of information about your respective lives. The rookies told you about their girlfriends with wide smiles, and Gabriel promised to introduce you to his in Miami. You told them about the first time you went on Max’s jet, still unable to properly register how normal it was for him.

The atmosphere was warm and light-hearted just like when Jack and Liam had been here, but this was still a unique moment. A moment that would only belong to you, Max, Ollie, and Gabriel.

…..

It was quite late when you were done with dinner. You were munching on the last muffin – the three men having silently agreed on leaving it for you – as you noticed the time.

“We won’t have any right to complain about the new timezone if we don’t make any effort to rest before having to adjust to it”, you pointed out.

“I’m comfortable here, though. But I hate that you’re right”, Ollie sighed as he reluctantly got up.

“You’ll come to realise that she’s always right”, Max joked.

“I already realised that you are always on her side”, Gabriel said.

“Because it’s either I’m right or he’s wrong”, you explained. Seeing the gears turning in Ollie’s and Gabriel’s heads was hilarious as they tried to understand your words. “Do you want us to walk you back? Monaco’s pretty safe but I wouldn’t want you to get lost, again.”

“We should be fine”, Ollie assured.

“I’ll walk you back, don’t worry. That’ll be the post-meal physical activity”, Max said as he stretched his arms.

“I’m coming too, then. Nothing like a good late-night walk.” You were ready to put on your shoes like the drivers, until Max stopped you.

“You can stay here,” Max told you. “Finish watching your little match and tell me all about it when I’m back, okay? I’ll bring them home safely.”

You nodded, before kissing Max on the cheek and hugging the rookies goodbye. They thanked you for the hundredth time to have welcomed them into your home, and wished you a good night. You would next see them in Miami for the upcoming race weekend, hoping that this one would be good to them.

When the drivers left, you immediately went back to watching tennis as told by your boyfriend while he led Ollie and Gabriel in the streets of Monaco.

“Sorry if it annoyed you that we came tonight,” Gabriel eventually said. “We just wanted to spend time with you and her.”

“Mostly her,” Ollie added with a teasing tone. “But yeah, I know we were supposed to wait until Miami.”

“Which we absolutely didn’t”, Gabriel concluded.

“I would have refused if I didn’t want you there,” Max told them. “I know I was all grumpy about it last week, but tonight was actually nice. And it makes her happy as well to see you, so I won’t go against that. Plus, the food was great so thanks for that because we were actually ordering way too much take out recently.”

“Next time, we’ll call before we go out and not while we’re in the middle of going to yours.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Max put his arms around Gabriel’s shoulders. “Or I’ll tell Fernando to drop you, I don’t know.”

“You do know you don’t sound really threatening right now?” Ollie pointed out.

“Because I’m not trying to be,” Max admitted.

This was the type of conversation Max enjoyed having with the rookies: pretending to be a bit mad with their overwhelming presence when he was actually soft around them, almost showing them more love than you did. But Ollie and Gabriel knew that Max was being genuine. They had eventually heard a bit more from Liam and Jack’s dinner, which confirmed that it was just Max’s personality.

It highlighted how well you and Max worked together: you were the extroverted one and he was more introverted, but deep down you were both the same. Max was more subtle: he didn’t use his words as much as you did, rather showing things through actions that could sometimes go unnoticed. You loved loudly and proudly, while he did it more quietly in ways that felt just as meaningful.

And this was how it went with the rookies, which was something they wouldn’t trade for anything else in the world.

…..

If anyone asked you how you would describe Miami this year, you would answer that it was… eventful.

And not necessarily in a good way.

It had started somehow fine.

Although flashy and packed with celebrities, the atmosphere was one of your favourites. Sure, you didn’t think that three races in the US were needed; but they knew how to bring out good vibes.

Friday had gone particularly well; you were especially happy for Max and Isack, but even more for Kimi. After a good FP1 session, Kimi had become the youngest pole sitter in the history of Formula 1 during the Sprint Qualifying. Barely four hundredths were putting him in front of Oscar, and you could only hope that Kimi wouldn’t trample down the grid to get his first F1 podium.

“I’m so so proud of you Kimi”, you had told him once he was done with his interviews. “That’s a huge achievement, congrats!”

“Thank you!” Kimi was beaming with happiness, over the moon due to his performance. “I don’t know if I can keep the lead tomorrow, but I’ll try my best to at least stay within points.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great,” you encouraged him.

“Also, small request: can you tell your boyfriend to let me get a podium?” Kimi was mostly joking, but he knew he would be under threat from Max who was starting right behind the two McLaren.

“I could try, but no promises.” You chuckled at Kimi’s words, knowing that Max would do everything in his power to get above his starting position and you couldn’t do anything against it.

For once in your life, you were clearly going to be supporting someone other than Max. Kimi definitely deserved his sprint pole, and he was also absolutely deserving of a win one day. Maybe it wouldn’t happen in his rookie year, but points had been a constant result for him and a podium was therefore at least possible before the end of the season.

Still, you would obviously be rooting for your boyfriend too and that’s what you did on the next day during the sprint race. But then, everything went downhill: Red Bull messed up Max's pit stop, which led him to an unsafe release as he slightly collided with Kimi who was in the pit lane to box as well.

You couldn’t help but wince as the TV showed the replay of the incident, and you hoped that it wasn’t going to put either of them at a disadvantage given that Kimi hadn’t had the opportunity to actually change his tyres. Even if it hadn’t been Max’s fault, he would still get penalised from his team’s mistake and that would eventually lead to the less than glorious result that was P17.

Safe to say, Miami wasn’t treating your boyfriend nor the rookies well for now. The groan you let out when you saw Max’s name dropping to the last place was filled with annoyance at Red Bull, as you cursed them in your head. Due to the safety car that had been triggered by Alonso crashing a couple laps before the end, the gaps had been so close between everyone that Max didn’t have a chance of at least staying in points.

The weekend hadn’t really started as a lucky one for Max. But fortunately, he proved to everyone that he was still at the top of his game when he put his car on pole later in the afternoon during qualifying. The margins were really close between Max and the cars behind – barely a few hundreds of a second separating each driver. Kimi would eventually get another chance at a podium, starting P3 on the grid, while the rest of the rookies were scattered once again outside of points.

You wanted to be hopeful, wishing for your boyfriend and grid kids to have a good race. Max would get a second opportunity at winning something in Miami this weekend, and Gabriel would be ever so close to finally scoring points as he had reached his first Q2 of the season.

You wanted everyone to do well, you really did.

…..

However, things didn’t go as you wished and you were now clearly unwell after the race – it almost made you think that you were actually cursing the drivers with your hopes and support.

Max going from pole position to right outside the podium was something – the McLaren were in a whole other league this weekend, but four out of the six rookies DNFing was worse. You didn’t think a race this year would be as traumatising as Melbourne, and yet here you were in Miami.

Thankfully, everyone was physically fine. It was the mentally part that you couldn’t be sure about, though. It was really a sharp contrast from the joy the drivers had all felt earlier during the Lego cars race that had replaced the traditional drivers’ parade. They had all been so happy, having fun like little kids opening their presents on Christmas day.

And now, it almost seemed like they had spent a day experiencing the horrors of Ferrari with how down they all were.

“I wish we were legal so you could take us out drinking”, Ollie told you with a sigh. “We need to drown our sorrows in alcohol.”

“Even if you were, we’re not getting drunk to forget the race. Usually we get drunk to celebrate the race,” you clarified.

“Then we get drunk to celebrate my P6?” Kimi suggested.

“Shouldn’t you be working on your homework instead?” Liam teased. “It’s almost past your bedtime, and you wanna be drinking.”

The other rookies snickered at Liam’s words, while Kimi frowned.

“Says the guy who didn’t even finish the race…” Kimi mumbled, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Okay, that’s it. No race talk anymore”, you warned. You weren’t about to hear any more comments about the race results, knowing that they could still hurt some of the drivers even when disguised as a joke. “We’re not going out to drink. I think we all need a good night of sleep, so I suggest you get back to your hotel rooms and rest. Is that okay with everyone?”

“Yes, mum.”

Despite their voices being filled with sarcasm, you couldn’t help the smile that appeared on your face. You would never dare consider yourself their actual parent, but being their grid mum always left a warm feeling in your chest whenever you remembered that they actually enjoyed your presence.

After agreeing to get some sleep – and also realising that they definitely had early flights the next day, the rookies reluctantly left you alone. Bidding them goodbye, you didn’t hesitate to give a longer hug to the ones who’d had unlucky races. You could feel the way they were holding you a bit tighter than the others, not really wanting to let go of the comfort you were providing them.

Now alone, you decided to find Max. He had told you earlier after the race how he wanted to spend a bit of time on his own, which you didn’t mind. It only took him one second to answer your call, and the loud background noise that could be heard made you think that he wasn’t on his own anymore.

“So much for alone time?” You rhetorically asked with a scoff.

“Well, Lando and George were quite persuasive. Wanna join us? I could really use some moral support after this difficult weekend.” Max’s tone could only indicate that he was exaggerating, as a dramatic sigh left his mouth.

“You’re asking so nicely, how could I say no? Text me your location and I’ll be there when I can,” you told Max. Looking down at your outfit, you figured it could survive a longer night than planned.

Max was over the moon when he saw you walk up to him – the alcohol in his blood definitely made him happier – and you were immediately engulfed into a hug when you were within his reach. Chuckling at his attitude, you then didn’t hesitate to kiss back when Max’s lips were suddenly on yours.

“No PDA tonight, please.” Lando’s voice interrupted your kiss with Max. Putting an arm around your shoulders, Lando tried to pull you away from your needy boyfriend. “You, my friend, are going to be drinking the night away with us. The party can finally start now that we have the better Verstappen here!”

“She’s not a Verstappen yet, Lando.”

“Yet?” You repeated with a smirk. “You plan on marrying me one day, then?”

“Of course, I’d be dumb not to.”

If you and Max were having this conversation just the two of you in a quiet place, maybe it would’ve been romantic. But the loud music combined with Max being more than tipsy, as well as Lando third-wheeling, just made the moment funny to you.

“Glad we’ve cleared up the obvious,” Lando said in reference to you and Max being married in the future. “Now, it’s time to have fun!”

Finally pulling you away from Max, Lando led you towards the bar where George already was.

One shot turned into two, then three. Soon enough, you weren’t really counting anymore and were simply enjoying the night. You danced with Lando – terrible dancer when sober and even worse when drunk, then with George – you had to admit he had some moves, before finding yourself in Max’s arms once again.

You were definitely having the most fun ever. It was always chaotic to party with drivers, but you didn’t care about how loud the music was or how drunk you were getting when the atmosphere was just the right one.

And maybe you would regret it the next morning, especially when your head would be throbbing in pain, but for now you weren’t thinking about the consequences.

Except that one consequence would eventually be a dozen texts from the rookies who had seen you partying – courtesy of Lando who had posted pictures – after you had told them to go to sleep early.

So much for resting

Hope the hungover was worth lying to your KIDS – Gabi

“Good night of sleep” she said🙄 – Liam

Can’t believe that “WE are not going out drinking” was actually just meant for us – Kimi

That’s like next level betrayal💔💔

We might forgive, but we won’t forget – Ollie

Unbelievable… – Isack

The fact that I was legally allowed to come with you – Jack

..........

Next one should be out before monaco, and it'll be a v short part focused on jack after he got sacked by alpine (I'm still sad and heartbroken for him😔)

Taglist: @umm-i-love-u @callsign-mirage @freyathehuntress @elieanana @suns3treading @fastandcurious16 @l3thal-l0lita

Thank you sm for reading🫶🏻🫶🏻 hope you liked this chap!!

Don't hesitate to like, reblog, or comment<3 also you can request some stuff you'd want to happen next and I'll do my best to include it if it works w what i planned to write :)

See you soon, take care of yourselves, love y'all xx

[luna-azzurra]

Vibes for Characters #1

Who Are Angry, But Don’t Know Why...

(aka the ones who punch walls emotionally, even if they never touch anything)

☽ Clenched fists for no reason. Fingernails digging into palms. White knuckles. Always. ☽ Their jaw is sore, but they don’t realize it’s from grinding their teeth all day. ☽ Quick to snap at people who ask “Are you okay?”—because no, but they don’t have a map to what’s actually wrong. ☽ Laughs in the middle of an argument, but it’s that ugly laugh. That “God I wish I knew how to scream without breaking something” laugh. ☽ Gets weirdly emotional over small inconveniences. Burnt toast. Traffic. Missing socks. Not because of the thing—but because of everything. ☽ Hates being pitied more than being hated. ☽ Half the things they say sound sarcastic, even when they’re not trying to be. ☽ Walks too fast. Eats too fast. Always doing something like stillness might swallow them whole. ☽ Tells people “I’m just tired” when what they mean is “I don’t trust myself not to explode.” ☽ Picks fights with mirrors. Or themselves. ☽ Looks calm from a distance, but their energy feels like a storm about to break. ☽ The kind of person who storms out and comes back five minutes later because they weren’t done arguing with themselves.

Who Don’t Think They Deserve to Exist

(The “I’m fine, but I’m not supposed to be here” kind of characters. The ghost-in-their-own-body ones.)

☽ Flinches when praised. Freezes when complimented. Looks confused, like kindness is a foreign language they never learned. ☽ Keeps everything small. Their voice. Their handwriting. Their footprint in the world. ☽ Won’t ask for help, but apologizes for asking if they’re allowed to ask. ☽ Constantly feels like they’re taking up space they didn’t earn. Physically, emotionally, narratively. ☽ Will drop everything to take care of you—and absolutely cannot handle being taken care of in return. ☽ Fills silences with self-deprecation. Can’t stand being left alone with just their own breathing. ☽ Has entire imaginary conversations in their head about being a burden. Usually ends with them deciding to stay quiet. ☽ Smiles when they’re sad, because they’ve learned people like them better that way. ☽ Lives in survival mode, even in safe places. ☽ The kind of tired that isn’t fixed by sleep. The kind of ache that doesn’t bruise. ☽ Doesn’t think anyone would miss them if they left—but still shows up for everyone anyway. ☽ Would literally sacrifice themselves for someone else’s peace, and not tell anyone they were in pain while doing it.

Who Would Rather Self-Destruct Than Be Vulnerable

(You know the type. “I’m fine,” they say, while bleeding emotionally in six places and making it your fault.)

☽ Has a six-sense radar for emotional intimacy and bolts the second they feel it coming. ☽ Jokes about their trauma before anyone else can ask questions. ☽ Flirts like it’s war. Gets emotionally close like it’s a death sentence. ☽ Hates silence because it feels like it might start telling the truth. ☽ Master of the “accidental push away” (says things like “You don’t really care,” when what they mean is “Please prove me wrong.”) ☽ Would rather burn a bridge than admit they actually want you to cross it. ☽ Says “It’s not a big deal” about everything, even when it obviously is. ☽ Responds to “Are you okay?” with “Define okay.” ☽ Thinks vulnerability is weakness, but secretly craves someone who’ll stay after seeing the mess. ☽ Their love language is sabotage. Their defense mechanism is charisma. ☽ Will talk you through your emotional breakdown with terrifying clarity—and ghost you the second you ask how they’re doing. ☽ Would rather be hated for who they pretend to be than be hurt as who they really are.

[batsybat91]

You've left the house to go grab some groceries, leaving Ghost all by himself. It was cute, trying to make him smile like that. You and him have never really... spoken before. To be honest, he thinks that might be the first true interaction you've had with him beyond, "Hey, did you do your chores yet?"

He calls Soap immediately. Soap went on vacation two days ago to visit home. When the Scottish bloke finally picks up, he sounds more than annoyed. "What is it now, ya daft idiot?"

"I haven't called you since you've been gone," Ghost retorts.

"Ye dinnae kill our sweet little roommate, did ye?" Soap asks, clearly repressing a groan. "Ach, I knew I shouldn't 'ave left you 'ome with her! It's like leaving a lion home to watch an antelope."

"Johnny. I haven't touched her," Ghost replies, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Then whyyyyy are ye callin' me?" he drawls.

"Because... she - bloody hell, Johnny - she told me terrible jokes last night, tryin' to get me to smile. Or laugh," sighs Ghost. "And it's the cutest fuckin' thing I've ever seen."

Soap is silent on the other end for a moment. Then the bastard starts snickering. "Aye, I see how it is. Someone's got a wee crush on our dear girl!"

"Don't call it a crush. That's childish," Ghost growls. "Listen, Johnny, what do I do about it?"

"Could just tell 'er."

"No."

"Could drink it away, then."

"No."

"Well, damn, Simon. Just keep shootin' me down, why don't ya?"

"Have better ideas, asshole."

"I dunnae know what you want me tae do!"

"How do I talk to her? What does she like?"

"Aren't ye Mr. Womanizer? I'm pretty sure you've had 15 hookups since she's lived with us!"

"It's different! She's not a one-time thing!"

"She likes colorin' books." Soap finally relents. "And concerts."

Ghost sighs in relief. He can work with that. "Thanks, Johnny."

"You're not welcome," he scoffs. "Don't call me again 'less it's an emergency! Em-er-gen-cy!"

"Right, right, I got it," Ghost grumbles, hanging up the call.

When you get home, Ghost helps you unload the groceries and put them away. You look at him like he's grown another head. But you don't say anything until after the groceries are put away. "Someone's social today," you tease.

"I hear you like coloring books," he blurts.

You feel like you've been flashbanged. Your ears start ringing, and you blink at him a few times to recover. "Yeah, doesn't everyone?"

"Can you show me?" he whispers.

Another dazed look appears on your face. You shake your head to clear it. "Who are you and what have you done with Simon Riley?" you laugh, poking him in the chest. "I thought you didn't talk."

"I want to talk to you," Ghost says, his brown eyes filled with such... emotion. You couldn't name it if you tried. A deep sorrow, perhaps. But that isn't enough to describe the look that was in those wet, brown eyes.

"Alright" you concede. "Let's color."

Part I

[ijustwannabecool]

Rolling, Rolling, Red Bull

Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

Summary… When the Drive to Survive crew shows up to film a behind-the-scenes look at Max Verstappen’s life off track, Y/N is less than thrilled to be in the spotlight. But between sarcastic interviews, soft domestic moments, and a now-viral deleted scene involving a jar of pesto, the world gets a glimpse of a Max they’ve never seen before. Boyfriend-coded. Cat-dad certified. And very, very soft for her.

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy! I’ve been kinda M.I.A. & irregular on my posting but I have been out of town for the last two week so I’ve been writing on my phone and it has been a little difficult.

I hope you guys enjoy this story and feel free to donate on my Ko-Fi, maybe that way I can buy a better computer and write more consistently for you guys.

like, comment, reblog, enjoy (:

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Y/N was halfway through brushing her teeth when Max knocked on the bathroom door.

“They’re here,” he said, muffled through the wood. “The Drive to Survive guys.”

She spat into the sink. “Tell them to come back never.”

Max laughed, leaning against the doorframe in joggers and a Red Bull hoodie, his hair still wet from the shower. “You said yes last night.”

“I was half-asleep and you bribed me with stroopwafels.”

He pushed the door open and gave her the most annoyingly charming grin. “And yet, here we are.”

⸻

The Netflix crew had set up in their living room, pretending the chaos of wires and camera angles was “low-key.” Max greeted them like old friends, casual and cool, while Y/N hovered awkwardly behind a kitchen stool, holding her coffee like a shield.

“Just pretend we’re not here,” the producer said, adjusting his headset.

“Impossible,” she muttered.

Max, ever the calm in the storm, slipped a hand around her waist. “You’ll be fine. Just be yourself.”

“That is the problem.”

⸻

They followed the couple through a normal day: breakfast on the balcony, Max fiddling with a simulator, Y/N curled up reading a book while their cats tried to chew on a mic cord.

But then they asked for a sit-down interview.

“Can you two just talk about what it’s like being in a relationship during the season?” the director asked, arranging pillows behind Y/N like this was a cozy podcast and not her personal nightmare.

Max shrugged. “It’s good. We don’t really fight.”

Y/N snorted. “You say that because you don’t consider ignoring my texts for six hours a fight.”

“I was driving,” he said, deadpan.

“You were on the simulator.”

“Same thing.”

The crew laughed. Max smiled sideways at her.

Then the director leaned in. “Y/N, how do you handle the pressure of being with someone constantly in the spotlight?”

She hesitated. Not because she didn’t know, but because she hadn’t expected the question to feel so… real.

“I don’t try to handle it,” she said slowly. “I just try to remind him that there’s a world outside of racing. That he’s more than just Max Verstappen the driver.”

Max’s expression softened—one of those rare looks he saved just for her, all warm gaze and relaxed jawline.

“And she’s the only one who gets away with calling me out when I start acting like a robot,” he added, voice lower now.

There was a pause.

“Wow,” the sound guy whispered.

“Keep rolling,” the director whispered back.

⸻

Later, when they were reviewing footage in the trailer, someone asked if they could get a shot of Max hugging Y/N.

“We have the paddock stuff, the Monaco stuff—but we need something soft to end on.”

Max found her sitting on the edge of the Red Bull hospitality couch, phone in hand.

He didn’t say anything. Just walked up, pulled her into his chest, and kissed the top of her head. Cameras or not.

“You’re doing great,” he said.

“You owe me ten stroopwafels and a massage.”

“I’ll give you twelve.”

The camera rolled as she smiled against his hoodie, arms tightening around his waist.

And later, when the season aired, fans clipped that moment. Over and over.

“Who knew Max Verstappen could be soft?”

“Protect this woman at all costs.”

“Relationship goals.”

But to Max, it was just Tuesday.

_______

Deleted Scene

Y/N stood barefoot in the kitchen, struggling with a stubborn jar of pesto. The label peeled at the edge, and the lid refused to budge despite two dish towels and her full body weight.

“Max!” she called, mildly annoyed. “Can you come here?”

Off-camera, you hear footsteps. Then Max appears in the kitchen doorway, looking suspicious. “What did I do?”

“Nothing. Just open this before I yeet it into the sea.”

He walks over, takes the jar, and opens it effortlessly with one twist.

She stares. “Are you serious?”

He grins, proud. “You loosened it.”

“Uh-huh.”

Without missing a beat, he dips a finger into the pesto and sticks it in his mouth.

“Max!” she gasps, swatting him with a tea towel. “That’s for dinner!”

He shrugs. “Taste test.”

A Netflix producer can be heard laughing behind the camera.

“Can we actually keep rolling?” another asks. “This is gold.”

Y/N turns, catching the crew still filming, and mock-glares at the camera.

“I’m going to need hazard pay.”

Max wraps an arm around her waist and plants a pesto-flavored kiss on her cheek.

“No one would believe how domestic you are,” Y/N mutters, smirking.

“Good. Let them think I’m scary.”

⸻

But don’t worry. The pesto jar ended up on eBay “signed by Max,” with a sticky note that read:

“She loosened it.” – M.V.

All proceeds went to cat shelters. Because Max demanded it.

⸻

FAN REACTIONS TO DELETED SCENE

Twitter/X:

@paddockbabie:

MAX OPENED A JAR AND A NATION FELL IN LOVE

#driveToSurvive #maxverstappen #domesticking

@softf1updates:

the way he dipped his finger into the pesto and then kissed her with zero shame?? I’m on the floor.

literally who gave him permission to be this boyfriend-coded

@f1spicypage:

“you loosened it.”

OH OKAY MAX VERSTAPPEN KING OF HUMBLE DOMESTICITY

⸻

Tumblr:

f1blurbs:

It’s not about the pesto.

It’s about her calling him like a husband.

It’s about him walking in like “what did I do?” like he knows he exists to be summoned.

It’s about the quiet love.

It’s about the damn jar.

I’m crying.

netflix-please:

Reblog if you too would risk it all to have Max Verstappen open a jar for you and call it “loosened by you.”

⸻

TikTok Comments (under the leaked scene with 4.8M views):

@formulalover44:

the way she’s like “MAX” and he just comes?? we love an obedient man

@jamgirlie:

petition to release ALL deleted scenes or i riot

@pestoprincess:

me @ my boyfriend: “why can’t you be more like max verstappen opening pesto jars and donating to cat shelters?”

⸻

Instagram Stories:

@f1gossipgrid:

MAX & Y/N: PESTO-GATE

This leaked deleted scene is the best PR Netflix never meant to drop.

Rumors say Red Bull marketing is already printing “You loosened it” merch.

We’ll take 5.

⸻

And yes—someone already made pesto-themed merch on Etsy with:

“You loosened it – M.V.” in sleek Helvetica on tote bags, mugs, and aprons.

⸻

the end.

[theorist-fox]

Gemstones

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

18+

CW: angst, hurt/comfort, pregnancy, childbirth (mentions), the good ending to this (if only he behaved), simon is a good husband and a good dad

Masterlist 🦊

Simon had promised himself that if he ever lived long enough to be satisfied with his life, he'd go and piss on his father's grave.

He thought about giving up, thought about ending it sooner rather than later—easier to expect life to deal another bad hand, considering what he'd been given in the past. The whisper of a blade along his wrists, or, better yet, a ripe bullet fuming in his head.

Prevent the cunt from sliding more poor draws as birthday surprises.

Still, the thought of desecrating the bastard's grave gave him something to look forward to. And when you have a source of anticipation, life tends to slide by in a bearable manner.

The only thing he had to do now was find a reason to go there, to the cemetery where he was buried. He wouldn't show up with nothing to shove down the man's throat, no matter how dead it was. No, Simon would go there with a trophy in his hand, rub it nicely where the Riley name was just about to fade, and then piss on it.

Medals didn't do the trick in his own eyes—never fond of chest candy, he couldn't imagine the ghost of his father being impressed either. His survival mattered little, too. Hell, he could go there to tell him that he had made it out of a grave, at least, while he stayed buried and dead, killed by the same things he once worshipped: alcohol, drugs, and a fat fucking liver.

Nothing quite fit the plan.

Simon drifted past his thirties with nothing meaningful in his cards — the same shitty hand life had dealt him from the start.

The only thing he could've bragged about was that he never found it hard to juggle work, relationships, and life.

Mostly because he lacked the latter two. What a brag, aye?

Easy as anything, though: go to work, get the job done, and go back home. Crack open a beer, maybe. Pass out on the couch.

He knows what it looks like. He knows and reluctantly admits it, too. Doesn't need a reminder from his psyche, doesn't need to hear the derisive laugh of his old man echo in his head.

He shuts it all off and drinks on it—paradoxical as it may be.

And as life gets dull and duller, rankled with boredom and self-loathing. With the same beers and the same shows on the telly. With the same silence haunting his flat and the same dreadful black hole swallowing his chest—

A spark. A light.

Out of the blue, during the hottest day of summer. Something that makes the hair on the nape of his neck stand on end, like a cat sensing danger—though this is no threat at all. It's the unusual of it, the novelty leaving his stomach knotted and heavy.

A pair of jeans, a light blue shirt left unbuttoned at the top. Just two, nothing too revealing. Open enough to stave off the warmth of HQ, yet still hiding the right amount of skin for a professional setting.

Makes his imagination run wild. Didn't even know he still had it in him, to fantasise.

A necklace you mindlessly toy with between nimble fingers, pretty blue gemstone mounted in gold, as you point at numbers and charts on the whiteboard behind you.

He's heard fuck all.

"Alright then." You snap him out of it. "Any questions?"

It takes him one well-placed elbow in the ribs, surreptitious as the owner, Garrick, for him to notice that he's been gawking at you to the point of discomfort. You're staring back with tightened brows and steeled shoulders, lips furled in either a pensive frown or a disgusted one.

Simon opts for the latter.

Of course he had to go and act like an animal the day he forgoes the balaclava. Not even his need for anonymity could force him to wrap his face in fabric when the temperature is just shy of 35 degrees. And while this has protected him from melting against the chair of the conference room, it has also left him completely vulnerable to bystanders' eyes.

Including yours. Sharper than a blade, cutting him into thin slices until there's nothing left for him to hide.

John asks something. The focus shifts. God fucking bless him alright.

You answer smoothly, crystalline voice that tinkers with his eardrums like they're made of glass.

He takes the ball and brings a hand to his jaw to massage its hinges. It aches. His mouth is dry. Pulse climbing up, palms clammy as they go for his face. If he didn't know any better, he'd think he's on the verge of having a stroke.

But not even Simon, clueless as he may be when it comes to feelings, is that unfathomably stupid. His cock straining in his trousers is a big, fat hint anyway.

You collect your things. Tap your papers neatly into place. Peel off a post-it note and scribble something on it. He follows the curve of your hand, the sharpness of each knuckle.

Simon blinks, and you're right beside him, sticking that yellow paper on the table in front of him.

Your number penned on it. Your name right below.

Simon has fucked plenty of people without remembering much of it. There are those who care if he comes, and those who fuck him even if he isn't hard at all.

It's a very straightforward way to force his body to feel something that isn't agony. Though he wouldn't describe himself to be a sad person—he doesn't think what he feels is sadness. It's more than that, less fickle than simple heartache.

He's accepted that life could either be this or the complete opposite. Between those two states of being, however, there is a whole ocean to cross, and he's utterly alone on a pitiful raft and with a single oar. At that point, he starts realising that he can either row day and night, hoping to reach a place that only seems to get farther and farther, or he can try his bloody hardest to make the journey more pleasurable.

He's tried drugs. Good for a tick. The aftermath is atrocious, though, worse than whatever has been festering in his guts.

Alcohol knocks him out. That's good. Less frowned upon. Easier to hide. His mouth waters when he pops open his beer and listens to the telltale fizz as the bubbles rise to the top. Foam spills on his knuckles, and he lets it crust. And when the beers are over, he switches to whiskey. It burns so good he wishes he could bathe in it—let it corrode at his skin the same way it's corroding his liver.

Sex is a good, perfect balance.

It can't kill him, for one. Another addiction to add to the list, sure, but at least this one won't have him rotting any time soon.

Whoever lands in his bed is game, to be honest. Doesn't care if he's horny, doesn't care if he can't get it up right away. It's the feeling of it—to be used, to be needed. He'll switch to whatever their hearts desire, as long as they fuck him until the knot in his stomach uncoils and he can somewhat breathe again.

But with you, it feels just slightly different. Or maybe a lot different, and he's not ready to face it yet.

He's not letting himself be used, be needed. Simon is reluctantly accepting that he's wanted, and that he can want too. He can want and he can take, if that's what he fancies.

He takes you. Takes you for all that you are: your sense of humour, your quirks, your wit, how your teeth bite into your cheek when you're thinking, the way your hair sways when you talk excitedly.

The way you fuck him, how you look when he fucks you. How your mouth parts when you cum, the weight of your hands on his chest as you ride him. The gentle breaths in the crook of his neck.

The I love you you whisper that first time.

His stomach gets heavier the longer you stay. It's not an unpleasant feeling, but it's new and unpredictable, and Simon doesn't like unpredictability. However, he forces himself to digest it because it feels like something in his belly is finally full.

Something in his heart, too.

Life gets harder, though—practically speaking. The scale tips to where the air smells of citrus and steeping teas instead of rotting flesh and cheap kentucky.

Now he has to go to work, get the job done, and return home. And if he gets home earlier than you, he has to prep dinner and all. Something nice to treat you right. Has to actually do laundry, the way you like it. Clean the house, much bigger than the studio apartment he used to inhabit.

Can't even brag about being able to juggle his life correctly—the visit to his father's grave has got to wait.

It's alright, he reckons. What's one more year, after all.

He stops enjoying lonely Stellas at night, because he found he doesn't really like to kiss you when his breath smells so heavy. Masks your taste, makes him curl his nose in disappointment.

He fancies wine now, like the posh fuckers he's always despised—pop open a bottle and nurse it from one of the two glasses you set on the coffee table at his feet. Bourbon, if he's got nothing to do the next day, and you're off as well. Pepsi, if you're both too tired to digest alcohol that night.

Liquor tastes different now. He doesn't find himself drawn to the bottle if you're not home—at least, not as often as before. He still loves his bourbon, but only after the clink of his glass with yours. A big lad like him can handle a beer or two—still, it tastes better if he can pet your head propped on his thighs as he gulps one down.

Every night, he's got you cuddled in his side, hence passing out on the couch is not an option anymore. The bed it is, then. Better sleep, much more space—hell, better sex for when you're both up for it.

Plus, sunlight hits you just right when he first wakes up and you're asleep, splayed on his chest. He likes the way golden ribbons curl around your shape, threads on your fingers like you're wearing jewels.

Doesn't take him long to actually put a golden band where it belongs, against all fucking odds. When the thought popped in his head, he prepared himself for the devastation that would follow your no. 

However, you nod your head when he takes out his mum's ring from his pocket. You nod your head vigorously, he'd like to add. You say a yes so genuine it cracks him open, leaves him bare for you to see the confusion festering inside. The elation.

The unmistakable joy.

No one believes him when you say yes—though truthfully, his mates do. Still, he's the first among the sceptics. A loud minority in his own head.

Johnny claps his shoulder as he stands there, clad in a suit and sweating bullets. Clammy hands pulling at his tie. However, none of it matters when you come to stand before him. Wedding gown on, and the most gorgeous of smiles. Pearls on your neck and tears in your eyes—gemstones, as precious as can be.

A hand on his cheek, a kiss on the lips.

The last as his fiancée, the first as his wife.

Sure, life becomes harder than his previous one. Responsibilities double, but loneliness halves. And halves. And halves. Until he forgets what it's like to live in a house and not in a home.

Briefly, the thought of finally having something to rub in his father's face crosses his mind. But when you take his hand and bring it to your lips, golden wedding ring catching the sunlight, he thinks it can wait a bit more.

What's a couple more years to add to his thirties, after all.

It's a foggy day when you abruptly wake up, lamenting a stomach ache that won't leave you alone.

"I'm so fucking sure it's yesterday's dinner," you mumble, unable to peel the frown off your face. "Fucking take out—I knew we should've cooked."

He's fixing you a cuppa in the kitchen to help with your nausea when he hears you retch from the bathroom. Simon sprints your way, leaving the tea bag to steep in the hot water for longer than needed.

He kneels beside you, running his hand up and down your back. Hooks his arm under the crook of your knees after you've brushed your teeth and takes you to bed.

You murmur that he's the best husband in the entire world as you nuzzle his chest. He chuckles at that. Thinks you proper insane but never voices it.

Perhaps because he likes to hear it. Perhaps because you're making him accept it too.

It's hard to digest, to metabolise that he is not… rotten. Or at least, not as wasted as life made him believe. Fear rankles his bones—to disappoint you, to disappoint himself. But you hold him like you'd rather be nowhere else, and that makes it easier for him to swallow it all. Have his stomach break it down into pieces and feed it to his soul.

It's worth it—fucking hell, really worth it.

Worth more than anything, especially when you both peek through the gaps of your fingers as you shield each other's eyes. The buzzing of the cold bathroom lights is the only background noise, silence as the companion of your bated breaths.

The ping of your phone signals time's up, and his focus finally lands on that stick. His eyes meet two little lines instead of one.

Pure horror and delight. His father's cruel eyes flash like lightning in his head, ice cold and terribly real, awfully tangible. Thunder cracks. He can't breathe right, not as calmly as he should.

You look into his eyes with gemstones in yours. A smile so bright the clouds part to favour it. It's not sunless anymore.

And it's worth it again.

Worth it, worth it, worth it. 

Worth every back-breaking job he takes next. Worth every solitary mission he goes on, and every particularly dangerous one he rejects. Worth every extra stack of paperwork tossed on his desk. Worth every bit of overtime he spends in HQ.

Worth it, worth it, worth it.

Worth seeing you grow, worth seeing you healthy. Worth seeing you hungry and devouring the food he makes, drink from the cups he washes.

Worth hearing your chuckle when he brings home that questionable concoction you crave. Worth holding your hair out of the way first thing in the morning.

Worth making love to you again, and again, and again, knowing that's what being home is supposed to feel like. Knowing that he has it, just right there, in the spaces you inhabit. In the pillow under your head, in the green mug next to his blue, in your hair tangled with his clothes.

Worth it. 

Worth it, to hear her heartbeat.

Worth seeing her move around in black and grey.

Worth feeling her hand pressing up. Her feet kicking at her ma.

"Like a little alien," you murmur tenderly, pressing his fingers to your belly.

She answers every time.

He kisses your skin. "My little bug."

Worth it, to watch you hold her when she first sees the world. To leave you that space, reserved for you two and not another soul. Even if his fingers itch to touch her, lurching to hold her as well—beating crazed, pulse climbing up, as if his heart could break the bones in his chest and reach out to her. To you.

Angel in your gentleness, goddess in your strength. Heavenly, overall, even drenched in blood and sweat.

Worth the fear for your safety, the fear for hers.

Worth the apprehension, the anxiety. He's not fit to be a dad, is he? Not fit for this life, where all is tender where he's hard, where all is comfort where he's pure unease. His hands have dealt more punches than caresses. They've taken the brunt of so much anger, it must have transferred to his bones somehow.

But if rage truly is his inheritance, it must not have taken root in him. Or at least, not as deeply as he thought. Not as invasive.

There's no space for it, no space for a hollow heart or withering anger. No space at all, because everything inside of him is full of you.

And it's so, so worth it.

Worth it all—just to hold her that first time.

Tiny, tiny thing. He could fit her in a hand if he wanted to, have her little legs hang off his forearm.

He could, surely.

He doesn't.

No, Simon becomes a cradle instead. Both arms curl around her as he sits down, afraid his knees might give out. He speaks to her words he never thought he'd get the chance to say, never thought they'd fit the mould life forced him into.

"Hey bug," he whispers. "I'm your dad."

Tears in your eyes. Gemstones.

In his, too.

Managing life is tenfold harder, especially when his little bug starts crawling.

Now he has to go to work, get the job done, get home—no, scratch that.

Now he has to wake up earlier so he can get breakfast ready for you. Feed his daughter so you can sleep in. Kiss you goodbye.

Go to work. Check the baby monitor connected to his phone so he can watch her sleep for a minute, or see her play in the cradle.

Good for his heart.

Get the job d—call you, to see if you're alright, how you're hanging on. He hates with all his guts that he can't stay home longer, but money doesn't grow on trees, and it's not only about him anymore.

Again, back on track: get the job done. Try to. Check the monitor. Send you a text.

His life would be so fucking bleak without you in it.

Might as well play along.

Back to his plans.

Get the job done early, precisely, so he can get home earlier and see you. Help you. Shed the soldier's armour and wear his dad clothes. Give you time to rest as he takes care of everything, until his baby falls asleep, so he can take care of you too. Be your husband again.

His days are harder. Balancing life and job is not as easy as it was when he used to come back to an empty house and a cold heart. It doesn't go nearly as smoothly as when he came home to you only, to warm arms and gentle eyes.

He knows it's not easy for you either.

Still, now he comes back to the smell of milk and baby powder. To changing nappies and sleepless nights, only to wake up at the crack of dawn the next day.

He comes home to your beautiful, tired eyes. Happy, happy as can be, like you've always been. Like he is—unbelievable to even think about it.

Home to the sound of innocent laughter or piercing cries, to tender babbling and chubby hands grabbing at his hair.

He still has to piss on his father's grave. But that's a thought for another day. You're waiting for him to come home, for him to be the man you know. The man you love.

The man he is.

Life's harder, but his heart's regrown. Spread its roots, symbiotic with you.

His little bug is a troublemaker. Curious. Brilliant.

Like her mum, he reckons.

She crawls everywhere, touches things she shouldn't. Not a soul on Earth has baby-proofed the house like Simon has, and still she finds ways to give her dad a chain of consequent heart attacks that leave him floored for the next couple of hours.

Hell, he wouldn't change a thing.

A dinner at home is how Simon properly introduces his daughter to the team.

Kyle can't stop baby talking to her and she giggles loudly every time. John promotes her to Sergeant Riley with a velcro SAS patch attached to her onesie. Johnny juggles her on his knees, but it's the third time she reaches out with those chubby hands to grab the��goddamn knife.

Makes sense, to Simon, to just put her on the playing mat and have her handle things she can actually play with.

And as chatter ensues, Simon's hand drawing circles on your thigh under the table, you gasp.

It's a moment of frigid horror. Fear travels like shards of ice through his bloodstream, tips at his skull. But when he follows the line of your eyes, his body freezes in awe.

There she is, standing on her own two feet.

Sage green socks wobbling on the mat. Tiny arms spread out for balance, chubby fingers wiggling in the air as if it could help her keep still.

Gummy smile pushing at her cheeks, tiny dimples pressing in. She looks at her dad with innocent pride.

Simon's mind travels back. Breath lodged in his throat.

He sees you frowning at him in the conference room. Sees your number scribbled on a post-it note, your half-buttoned shirt and the gemstone in between your fingers.

Sees the pearls like dewdrops around your neck. Those eyes charged with gorgeous tears. The gold around your finger, hand clutching his own to your heart.

He sees those same tiny feet, now touching the floor and holding her up, hidden in your belly. Her tireless kicks to meet his hand through you.

Sees her eyes squinting in a piercing cry. His lips to your forehead, coated in sweat and fear and relief. Feels her weight in his arms like that first time, like he's holding her again—small fists bumping around, eyes adjusting to the first light she's ever seen.

"Hey bug," he whispers. "I'm your dad."

He stands slowly, holding your hand. You follow his movements, eyes locked on your child. The silence in the room is palpable, but it's not a dreadful one—it's anticipation, it's a joy that thrives quietly, bathing each person in the loveliest of lights.

You both crouch a few feet in front of her. Simon opens his arms.

"C'mere bug." His voice trembles, doesn't even sound like his.

You sniffle next to him. "C'mere baby, go to daddy."

There. There she does it. Her babble fades into a giggle. A tiny, tiny step—a tumble. You react automatically, reaching forward with your arms, but his girl's stubborn, resilient.

Like her dad, he reckons.

She stands up again, regaining her balance. And steps forward, and forward, and forward, until the tips of Simon's fingers find hers—solace in her daddy's hold, small hands curled around his bigger thumbs.

Joy explodes. Golden fireworks. His mates laugh brightly, the air is pure delight, and as he picks his daughter in his arms, he holds one out for you.

You scoot inside. Press a kiss wet with lovely tears to your child's cheek. She giggles. It's clueless and light.

It has Simon's heart in a clutch.

He doesn't remember hearing his baby brother laugh like this. Doesn't think he's ever laughed like this either, when he still couldn't even speak.

His baby girl's happy. Loved. You are, too.

His chest tightens when he realizes he is part of the reason why.

"Good job, little bug," you whisper tirelessly, as if no force could stop you from showing how proud you are. How radiant. "Good job my love."

Simon's ears are cottoned. A bubble around you three, impenetrable because Simon has vowed so. His lips on his baby's forehead, then on yours.

His carbon copy looks up at him. Chocolate eyes meet his twin—smaller, fragile, and yet as strong as man can be. His pride, his love, packed inside a mess of curls and dimpled cheeks and pure, gorgeous sunlight.

A small sticky hand lands on his cheek, as if she's trying to make her daddy smile. Simon turns to kiss his daughter's palm and looks into your eyes, glossy with joy—aquamarine tears, glowing from within.

His little bug might look like him, but she's just like you—eyes like gemstones. His treasure trove. Most coveted one, most precious.

"I love you," he mouths to you.

Your smile is wet with tears, chock-full of joy.

You say it back.

His father is buried six feet under. There he'll stay. Drowning under cold, barren soil. Food for bugs, corroded by time.

Not his problem. Not anymore.

You kiss him. A quiet peck in front of guests, but still so charged with love it gives his heart whiplash. He transfers it to his daughter's forehead.

Johnny lifts his glass with a loud Cheers. A happy cacophony follows suit, clinking glasses and a small chorus of congratulations to "wee Sergeant Riley".

Life is hard. It's gonna be harder, and harder, and harder.

But Simon doesn't think it's ever been this bright.

[starrvsn]

꒰ ⌕ ꒱ recommended bucky barnes fics! ✧ ੭ pls support these writers !

OVER THE INTERCOM ⠆bucky revival because of thunderbolts... my og, i will never forget him.

﹙legend!﹚ ✷ includes smut! must 18+ to read! ✱ — thunderbolts (since a newly realeased movie, i want to prevent spoilers from people who haven't seen it yet! but beware of spoilers) 𝜗𝜚 — my personal fav! — indented text is other recommended fics by the same author!

˚⋆𐙚｡ list is regularly updated when i find new fics! & if links aren’t working pls lmk! ⋆𖦹.✧˚

 ── .✦ also! i may be recommending certain fics but please also check out their blogs! so many of these authors have other amazing pieces just waiting to be read!

✱ back to you written by @helaintoloki / synopsis: Yelena’s interest in y/n forces Bucky to confront his feelings for her as the Thunderbolts take refuge in her home

✱ jackass written by @aquaticmercy / synopsis: Everyone is horrified that Bucky is flirting with a married woman, but then they realize there's a reason why. 

⤷ also! recommending their bucky fics in their masterlist because they are absolutely amazing, swear i binge read all their fics in one night… seriously.

weakness written by @marvelstoriesepic / synopsis: You use Bucky’s only weakness to your advantage until it bites you in the ass.

⤷ ✷ in too deep / synopsis: After Bucky calls, and you come running, you end up locked in his bathroom, trying to get rid of the evidence that something hasn’t gone well this time + part two ✷ different, this time / synopsis: After the hospital visit and the doctor’s diagnosis, Bucky is plagued with guilt. He won’t touch you again until he is absolutely sure that you’re okay. Once you manage to reassure him, you both discover what it truly means to make love, rather than just fucking with suppressed feelings. And it’s overwhelming in the best way.

yours whether you know it or not written by @magical-reid / synopsis: You’ve been running missions with Sam and Bucky for a while now, and everything was fine—until John Walker started showing up and taking an interest in you. Bucky isn’t having it. Not because he’s jealous. Definitely not because he’s jealous. He just doesn’t trust Walker. Right?

𝜗𝜚 the solider and his mission written by @magical-reid / synopsis: When a trigger sends Bucky back into the grip of the Winter Soldier, he shadows you with an unyielding protectiveness that leaves the team on edge, though he doesn't harm anyone. After days of tension and careful steps, Bucky finally breaks through the icy barrier, returning to himself in a quiet, tender moment, finding solace in your presence.

✷ queens throne written by @little-miss-dilf-lover / synopsis: you have been feeling insecure and been nitpicking yourself apart. bucky notices and shows you how much he loves your body by asking you to sit on his face

✷ you take the dark and carve me out a home written by @sinner-as-saint / synopsis: Unwinding after a tough mission is not exactly easy. Especially not when you’re part of a group that is always, constantly under scrutiny. Which is why you were always extra hard on yourself whenever you felt like you made a mistake or let the team down in any way. Bucky was aware of this, he was aware of everything regarding you, and usually he gave you your space and within a day or two you’d get back to normal. But this time was different, he noticed. It had been a couple of days since your last mission and you were still in that weird, distant headspace. And Bucky needed you back, the whole team needed you back, but him more because… well, because he cared about you a lot more than he let on. 

𝜗𝜚 ✷ this is (not) fine written by @artficlly / synopsis: personal assistant rules: don’t crush on bucky barnes. definitely don’t misinterpret a flower purchase and spiral into silent heartbreak, and absolutely never ever get stuck alone with him in an elevator.

⤷ ✷ lessons in love making / synopsis: You and Bucky Barnes go undercover as a married couple, but when a fake kiss gets too real, he unexpectedly finishes in his pants—leaving you both stunned. (on-going series!) *not apart of the recommended fit but written by the same author!*

✷ the sunday regular written by @little-miss-dilf-lover / synopsis: you’re a waitress working at some shitty run-down diner in the middle of nowhere. and every sunday you see the same person at the same time walk through the doors. the pair of you forming a bond over time. though today, he doesn’t at his usual time and you begin to worry that you’ll have to wait another week to see him. the regular then finds out some information about you that he didn’t wish to know, and in turn, information you didn’t wish to share.

✷ makeout lessons with bucky written by @bcksgirl

drawing the line written by @fireinmoonshot / synopsis: Bucky Barnes has messed up big time ... he just doesn't know it until he sees you and realises he really should've checked his texts.

✷ breaking the ice written by @buckysouvenir / synopsis: when bucky doesn’t know what sex is like in the 2000s, you volunteer to try his fantasies.

off duty written by @lolab4t / synopsis: after a rare night off, you stumble back into avengers tower at 2 am.. tipsy, feet hurting, and definitely not expecting to run into bucky barnes on the couch.

⤷ ✷ part two of off duty / synopsis: days after the tipsy night on the couch, you're left wondering what it meant... especially with bucky acting infuriatingly normal. the tension leads to a steamy exchange between the two, where bucky seems to let go of his gentleman manners for a bit.

✱ ✷ overheard written by @alisonfics / synopsis: alexei persuades the thunderbolts team that they need to throw a costume party at the tower. your costume has a certain effect on a certain super soldier, but he’s too stubborn to admit it. you go to talk to him after the party and find him masturbating to the thought of you.

𝜗𝜚 smile, you're on camera! part one & ✷ two written by @whambamsami / synopsis: you accidentally find out what neighbor!bucky really does for work. and he's more than interested to show you how professional he can be.

✷ nine lives written by @theaquariusedit / synopsis: Bucky Barnes drives you insane—in every possible way. The bickering, the reckless plans, the way he smirks like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. But when a mission goes sideways, leaving you both bloodied and too close for comfort, the tension between you ignites into something impossible to ignore. You can keep pretending. Keep fighting him. But Bucky isn’t one to back down—especially when he knows you don’t really want him to.

✷ it’s been calling me written by @godmadeaterribleerror / synopsis: You've had these… dreams. Strange, realistic, detailed dreams of the same man, almost your whole life. But they're just dreams. You've been so sure, for so long, that they're just dreams.

✷ you started it written by @lucy-literates / synopsis: When Bucky walks in on you wearing nothing but his shirt and an innocent smile, all his carefully kept restraint goes up in flames — and this time, he’s done playing the gentleman.

you said what? written by @ilovolderman / synopsis: You accidentaly call Bucky babe during a mission briefing in front of the whole team. (can be read as a stand alone but is apart of a mini drabble series!)

𝜗𝜚 ✷ scary my god you’re divine written by @cloudystevie / synopsis: he would do anything for you.

✱ dead of the night written by @bruisedboys / synopsis: bucky calls you, his loyal assistant, in the middle of the night, asking for your help. he’s got four assassins with him and they need a place to hide. you’re too in love with him to say no. SPOILER WARNING!! plot spoilers for thunderbolts

𝜗𝜚 ✷ summer surprise written by @pome-seed / synopsis: You've been looking forward to kicking off the summer with a week on your dads new boat. You decide to have one last night of fun before committing to a week on the sea with your family. But you're thrown into a world of shock when you realize the older man you slept with, only days prior, is not only friends with your dad, but also joining you for the trip.

anyone but you written by @nev3rfound / synopsis: you were Bucky's pocket of sunshine, his sweet girl outside of the avengers. a slice of normality in his less-than lifestyle, but what happens when you're pulled into it in the worst way?

show some loves to the authors ᡣ𐭩 recommendations by jes!

[ineedpaigebuckets]

Hello. Can you write a comfort Pazzi fic about Paige's first days in the W? Perhaps one set after yesterday's game, where she's happy her friends are there, but she's missing Azzi. She come home tired and beat up, wanting to talk to Azzi, who shows up by surprise and takes care of her. Some vulnerable moments maybe where Paige talks about the adjustment and how hard she's working and how her body is best up from the intensity. Azzi, maybe giving her a massage or bath, and some "gentle ish" sex, where they both are soft with each other, but Azzi really, really takes care of her. And Paige finally has her person with her in Dallas, and someone just to talk to and share the moment with.

yes ma'am (it's kinda like filthy be warned)

home, now

the door clicked shut behind her with a quiet finality. paige stood frozen in the entryway, her keys still dangling from her fingers, the strap of her duffel bag sliding off her shoulder and thudding softly to the floor. her legs felt heavy—like concrete—and her arms hung limply at her sides. she had never known her wrists could ache like this, or that the simple motion of pulling her hair out of a ponytail could feel like too much.

the game was over. the adrenaline had worn off hours ago. the high-fives, the lights, the press. her friends had been in the stands—she’d seen them, smiling and screaming her name, and it had helped for a moment. she’d smiled back. waved. she’d even felt proud.

but now the silence of her apartment pressed against her chest like a weight. she was proud. she was also exhausted. and sore. and just… lonely.

paige didn’t cry. not really. not when she left uconn, not when the draft happened, not even when she stepped on a w court for the first time. but now, here, in the soft dark of her living room, with bruises blooming across her thighs and a dull ache pulsing in her knees, she blinked and felt something wet catch on her lashes.

she rubbed at her face, dropped her keys onto the counter, and dragged herself toward the couch—only to stop short.

the lights were on in the kitchen.

and there, standing by the fridge in a hoodie too big for her and socks pulled halfway up her calves, was azzi.

paige froze. stared. didn’t breathe.

“hey,” azzi said, like she hadn’t just rearranged the entire universe by being here.

“what—what are you doing here?”

“you sounded tired on the phone yesterday. and our schedule finally lined up. so… i flew in. got the spare key from your agent.” azzi walked toward her slowly, like she knew paige might crumple if she moved too fast. “i just wanted to be here when you got home, but im really sorry i couldn't make it to the game.”

paige let out a sound—something caught between a laugh and a sob—and stepped into her arms like she hadn’t seen her in months. because it had felt that long. longer. her head dropped to azzi’s shoulder, her face buried in the space between her collar and neck. azzi’s hands circled her back instantly, one sliding up to her hair, fingers gentle.

“i missed you,” paige mumbled. “i don’t even know how much until right now.”

“i know,” azzi whispered. “me too.”

they stood like that for a long time—until paige’s legs started to shake and azzi was guiding her to the couch, pulling her down gently, cradling her like something precious. azzi helped her out of her shoes, then crouched down in front of her, fingertips brushing over paige’s knees like she was cataloging the pain by feel.

“rough night?” azzi asked softly.

paige huffed. “rough month.”

“talk to me.”

paige swallowed. her throat felt thick. “everything’s faster. harder. i knew it would be. but knowing and living it are two different things. i’m trying. i swear i’m trying. but my body… it’s so tired. i’m so tired.”

“you’re doing amazing,” azzi said, brushing hair from her face. “and you don’t have to be strong for me. not here.”

paige’s eyes fluttered shut. “i just needed… you.”

“you have me,” azzi said, kissing her temple.

they ended up in the bathroom, quiet except for the gentle hum of the tub filling. the light was soft—just the dim glow above the mirror and the flicker of one candle azzi had somehow found and lit while paige was in her haze.

paige leaned against the counter, hips resting against the cool marble, eyes barely open. her sports bra clung to her ribs, damp from sweat, and her shorts were loose but felt suffocating after the game. azzi moved around her with quiet purpose, barefoot, hoodie sleeves pushed up to her elbows.

“arms up,” she said gently.

paige obeyed without speaking. azzi pulled her bra over her head with care, folding it and setting it aside. then the shorts, sliding them down slowly, her fingers brushing paige’s skin. nothing rushed. nothing greedy. just presence. reverence. a kind of knowing only built through years of quiet, quiet love.

when paige was fully bare, she didn’t cross her arms or shy away. she just looked at azzi, eyes a little glassy, like she might cry if azzi wasn’t already holding all the heavy things for her.

“in,” azzi whispered.

the bath was warm. not scalding. just enough to pull the tension out, to coax her tired body into letting go. paige stepped in slowly, wincing at first, then sighing deep once she sank beneath the water. azzi got in behind her, pulling paige between her legs like she belonged there. like she always had.

paige’s head rested against azzi’s collarbone, and azzi’s hands started moving—soft circles over sore shoulders, her thumbs pressing gently at the knots by her neck.

“just breathe,” azzi murmured, mouth close to her ear.

paige exhaled shakily, chest rising and falling in uneven waves.

“hurts?” azzi asked, fingers pausing at a particularly tight spot near her spine.

“yeah,” paige said. her voice was hoarse. small. “everywhere.”

“i’ve got you.”

slowly, azzi let one hand drift down, tracing the line of paige’s arm beneath the water. her fingers dipped below the surface, brushed over her ribs, then lower—along her thigh, where bruises were blooming like violet fingerprints. she cupped one gently, her thumb brushing over it like she could take the pain into herself.

“you’re working so hard,” azzi said. “i know it feels like you have to do it all alone. but you don’t. not with me.”

paige tilted her head, cheek brushing azzi’s jaw. “i didn’t know how much i needed you here until you were.”

“i know,” azzi whispered. “you carry everything.”

“sometimes i wish i didn’t have to.”

“then don’t. not tonight.”

azzi’s hand slid across her stomach, slow and steady. not demanding. just there. grounding. the water lapped gently around them, and azzi kissed the top of paige’s head, then her temple, then lower—along her jaw, soft lips pressing into the places where the tension lived.

paige let her legs float open slightly, the smallest movement, but azzi understood. she always did. her fingers found the inside of paige’s thigh beneath the water, just resting there at first, as if to ask are you sure? and paige’s breath caught, then steadied, and she shifted back into her, answering in the way her hand found azzi’s thigh and squeezed lightly.

“okay,” azzi said, so soft it was almost a breath. “just let go, baby.”

and paige did.

she let azzi touch her, slow and steady, the way only azzi could—like her body was a language she already knew by heart. azzi’s palm moved beneath the water, slipping over soft skin and settling between paige’s legs, but even that didn’t feel like the start of anything rushed. it felt like an extension of the care she’d been giving all night. like an offering. like safety.

azzi’s fingers moved slowly, parting her carefully, like she was trying to memorize every reaction. her other arm stayed locked around paige’s waist, holding her steady. anchoring her. her mouth never left paige’s skin—cheek, shoulder, collarbone—kisses placed gently between each breath, each soft sound.

paige’s breath hitched as azzi’s fingers circled her, a slow rhythm that built with no urgency, just intention. her hips shifted, a subtle roll forward that told azzi everything she needed to know. she tightened her arm around her, guiding her through it.

“you’re okay,” azzi whispered. “i’ve got you.”

paige whimpered—a broken, beautiful sound—and azzi kissed her temple, lips lingering.

“you’re doing so good,” she murmured. “just relax.”

paige’s eyes fluttered shut, her body melting into the space azzi had made for her. everything ached—her knees, her wrists, her back—but not here. not like this. azzi’s touch washed it all away, slow and sure and patient, until all that was left was heat building low in her stomach and the soft press of skin and water and love.

when she came, it wasn’t loud or frantic. it was a quiet unraveling, a slow release that crept up on her like dusk. a soft surrender. a breaking open in silence.

it started in her chest—a tight coil of exhaustion, pressure, emotion that finally, finally gave way. her breath stuttered, shallow and uneven, then deepened into a long, trembling exhale as the feeling washed through her, full-body and fierce. not overwhelming, not this time. just consuming in the way that made her feel known. real. touched in places that had nothing to do with skin.

her legs shook beneath the water, gentle but visible, the kind of tremble that started deep in her core and radiated outward in soft, involuntary pulses. her thighs twitched as the warmth swelled low in her belly, a dull ache that unspooled into pleasure slow and deliberate—like her body had been holding back too long and was finally, mercifully, allowed to feel something that didn’t hurt.

her knees knocked faintly against azzi’s, and her breath caught—shallow and sharp—then spilled out in a shaky moan that barely made it past her lips. her stomach clenched, not with effort but release, every muscle around her hips fluttering beneath the water as she let the feeling crest, then crash. not fast. not overwhelming. just steady. consuming.

her body curled slightly, instinctively, the water rippling around her. she reached behind without thinking, fingers fumbling through the bath until they found azzi’s thigh—smooth and strong and steady behind her. she gripped it—not tightly, not desperate, but with this quiet urgency, like she needed to know something was there. something real. something grounding when everything inside her was liquid and shaking and breaking open at once.

her palm flattened there, splayed wide over azzi’s skin, and in that moment she felt everything. the tension in her own shoulders finally starting to ease. the rush of blood behind her ribs. the softness of the water against her chest. the heat between her legs, still pulsing in slow waves. azzi’s breath at her ear. azzi’s hand still cradling her gently, not pushing, just holding her through it.

azzi didn’t speak. she just held her tighter, fingers easing their rhythm as paige’s body trembled once, then again, then stilled. her mouth was pressed to paige’s temple, breath warm against her hairline. she whispered something too quiet to catch, but paige didn’t need words.

the warmth between them was more than the bath. it was the way azzi wrapped around her like a second skin, like protection. it was the way her hands knew when to keep moving and when to stop. the way her touch never asked, only gave.

paige let her body fall completely limp in azzi’s arms, muscles softening like she hadn’t let herself relax in weeks. her spine curved against azzi’s chest, head tipped back onto her shoulder, neck long and exposed in a way that felt like trust.

her eyes stayed shut. her breathing was unsteady still, little aftershocks in her ribs. but her face—usually so guarded, so tense—was calm now. raw and flushed and peaceful.

she didn’t say a word, didn’t need to. everything was already spoken in the way her body curled back into azzi’s like instinct. like belonging. like home.

and azzi just held her, fingers still moving gently, easing her through every wave until she stilled. until her body was slack and heavy in azzi’s arms, her breathing deep and slow and clean for the first time in days.

“there you go,” azzi said, pressing a kiss to her cheek, her temple, her wet lashes. “i’ve got you. you’re home now.”

they stayed there, naked and quiet, water cooling around them, but warmth pulsing steady between their bodies. and for the first time since the season started, paige didn’t feel like she was bracing for the next hit.

she just felt held.

they stayed like that long after the water cooled, azzi holding her like something precious, like her being here was the only thing that mattered.

and maybe, for tonight, it was.

when the bath was over, they moved to the bedroom. paige’s skin was soft and warm from the heat, her limbs loose with exhaustion. she didn’t say anything when azzi kissed her—just kissed her back slowly, gratefully, like she needed to memorize the shape of her again.

and when azzi touched her—soft palms over tired muscles, mouth against her chest, her stomach, her thighs—paige let her. she didn’t feel like a wnba player or a public figure or someone who was supposed to be fine. she felt like a person. her person’s person.

they ended up in bed without really speaking, towels loose around their bodies, hair damp against their shoulders. the light was low. the sheets cool. and when azzi kissed her again—really kissed her—there was nothing hesitant about it.

it was different now. not soft, not slow.

it was need.

paige felt it in the way azzi’s hands roamed lower, bolder, like she wasn’t afraid of breaking her anymore. like she finally believed she wouldn’t. and paige met her there—hips lifting, teeth catching azzi’s bottom lip, hands fisting in the towel still slung around her waist before pulling it off completely. she was done being careful.

because this wasn’t about relaxing anymore. this wasn’t about rest.

this was about remembering she was alive.

and when azzi touched her—soft at first, but building, pressing deeper, harder—paige burned for it.

heat bloomed under her skin, spreading fast, fast, fast. her breath stuttered in her chest as azzi’s fingers traced the slope of her waist, her ribs, the dip of her stomach—each touch grounding and electric all at once. her back lifted off the mattress, body curving instinctively into every point of contact like she’d been starved for it. like this—her—was the only thing that still felt real.

azzi’s mouth followed the line of her torso, open and warm, tongue flicking across her skin in slow, purposeful drags. paige could feel every pass of it—how her stomach jumped when azzi dipped into her navel, how her thighs tensed when azzi’s nails scraped lightly up their insides, how her nipples tightened under the rush of breath when azzi grazed past them again, not stopping, teasing, building.

and when azzi finally pressed her hand between paige’s legs, sliding in slow, deliberate strokes, paige gasped—sharp and breathless, her hips jerking up to meet her touch like a live wire had gone off inside her. slick heat surged through her, low and insistent, her thighs falling open without hesitation now, surrendering to the rhythm azzi set, one that was fast becoming frantic.

everything that had been quiet in her all week—the ache in her shoulders, the hollow in her chest, the dull numbness from forcing smiles through days that demanded too much—came roaring back as want. feral. full-body. her fingers twisted in the sheets, jaw slack as a moan slipped loose, shameless and low, and azzi groaned softly in return, like she felt it too.

“that’s it,” azzi murmured, voice dark and reverent, breath hot against the inside of paige’s thigh. “just like that.”

and paige gave in—hips rolling up to meet azzi’s hand, her mouth falling open as the pressure built sharp and fast. her body moved without thinking, chasing it, aching for it, driven by instinct and hunger and the sheer relief of being allowed to want something this badly. to be wanted this badly. to not be composed or collected or fine—but fucked open and undone, and seen in the fire of it.

every nerve in her body was screaming, raw and awake again.

and god, it felt so fucking good to feel.

pure, physical, full-body want.

“azz,” she breathed, eyes fluttering shut as azzi’s mouth moved down her chest, her ribs, her stomach. “please.”

and azzi didn’t ask what she needed—she already knew. her hands were steady, her mouth unrelenting, and paige’s body answered with sharp gasps and a tremble that wasn’t gentle this time. it was raw. it was desperate.

paige clutched the sheets like she needed something to hold onto. like she might come apart if she didn’t. and maybe she did. but azzi was already there, anchoring her, pulling moans from her throat like she wanted to hear them, wanted to feel how wild she could make her.

and god, she was wild.

it wasn’t quiet now. it wasn’t delicate. it was fast and hot and dizzying, and when it hit her—when she came this time—it felt like a snap. like a match strike. her back arched off the bed, and azzi held her there, let her ride it out, let her make noise.

paige didn’t cry, but it was close. the kind of climax that felt like a reckoning. like something crashing through her chest. her whole body was shaking, fingers tangled in azzi’s curls, thighs trembling as she finally fell back against the bed, slick with sweat and flushed all over.

azzi crawled up beside her, mouth kiss-wet, hair sticking to her cheek. and she looked at paige like she was hers. not like an athlete, or a name on a jersey, or a girl who needed to be taken care of. but like a woman who was fire and fury and feeling, who had come back to herself tonight and let someone witness it.

“you good?” azzi asked softly, brushing paige’s hair from her face.

paige let out a long breath. her lips were parted. her eyes still half-lidded, dazed.

“yeah,” she whispered. her voice was hoarse. “yeah, i’m good.”

and she smiled—not polite, not tired.

real.

hungry.

“you’re gonna kill me,” azzi gasped, breath shaky, fingers curling weakly in paige’s hair.

paige smiled against her skin, slow and dangerous, lips brushing the edge of azzi’s ribcage. “good,” she whispered. “you deserve it.”

azzi had taken care of her. had held her through the unraveling. but she wasn’t tired. not really. her chest was rising fast, yeah, and her lips were kiss-swollen—but she hadn’t been wrecked yet. hadn’t been touched like she touched paige. and paige needed that. needed to feel her come undone. to see the heat in her face shift into something wild, something messy, something ruined.

she pressed azzi back into the pillows, hands moving low, deliberate, greedy. azzi’s breath caught, her thighs parting almost automatically, her body too honest to lie.

“baby—” she tried again, but it was thin, breaking. “you don’t have to—”

“shut up,” paige murmured. “let me.”

and then she was everywhere—mouth, hands, hunger. kissing down azzi’s stomach, biting gently at the skin just above her hip, dragging her tongue over every sensitive place she remembered from long nights and low light. she was slower than shefelt, but deeper. pressing her weight into each movement like she wanted to brand azzi with it. like she needed to make her feel it tomorrow. the next day. every time she tried to walk.

“god,” azzi breathed, her voice gone low and wrecked already. “paige—”

but paige didn’t answer. she just kept going. sucking, licking, curling her fingers just right until azzi’s thighs were shaking, until her hips jerked and her hands slammed into the headboard, fingers gripping the slats like she was holding on for dear life.

paige didn’t stop when azzi begged. didn’t stop when she came, the first time—high and sharp and with a broken cry into the crook of her arm. didn’t even slow. just kept going, mouth soft but relentless, fingers deep and confident, coaxing sound after sound out of azzi’s throat until she was writhing, legs clamped around paige’s shoulders, breath a wrecked mess of “please” and “fuck” and “i can’t—i can’t—”

but she could.

and paige proved it.

with her mouth first. slow, then fast. tongue teasing at first, then deep, purposeful, pressing into azzi like she wanted to ruin her. like she meant to. her hands held azzi open, thumbs dragging soft, dizzying circles over her hips while her tongue licked through slick heat, again and again, until azzi’s back arched and her hand flew to the sheets and pulled. the kind of grip that begged for mercy. the kind of grip that meant don’t stop.

and paige didn’t.

she sucked and licked and curled her fingers into azzi when she started shaking—just two at first, then three, slow but deep, hitting the spot that made azzi cry out and snap, hips lifting off the bed, thighs trembling around paige’s shoulders. the third orgasm tore out of her like a sob, like it had been dragged up from the root of her.

but paige didn’t stop there.

she eased her through it, just enough for the tension to break, then started again—lips sticky, chin wet, eyes wild with it. she shifted her angle, kissed the insides of azzi’s thighs, then went back to her center like she couldn’t stay away. her fingers didn’t falter, didn’t slow. her mouth sealed over azzi again with that same steady rhythm, building it up again, and azzi bucked, already too sensitive, already wrecked.

“paige—” her voice cracked, high and hoarse. “please.”

paige just groaned, the sound low and almost possessive. “you can take it,” she said, mouth brushing wet over her. “i know you can.”

azzi came again, harder—hips jerking, legs locking, both hands shoved into her own hair like she didn’t know what else to hold onto. tears welled in her eyes, spilling out at the edges when she gasped paige’s name like a prayer she couldn’t stop saying.

and still—still—it wasn’t over.

paige climbed up her body, kissed her face, her throat, bit at her collarbone, and said, “one more.”

“i can’t,” azzi choked out, voice shredded.

“one more,” paige whispered, breath hot in her ear. “let me, baby. please. i need to.”

and somehow, azzi did. she let her.

paige moved her leg over azzi’s thigh, bodies sliding together, flushed skin on flushed skin, slick and wet and raw. she lined them up, pressed in, slow and devastating, her hips grinding just enough to pull a choked moan from azzi’s throat.

it was too much. and exactly right.

azzi clawed at paige’s back, her body lifting to meet her, rocking helplessly as paige proved it with every roll of her hips. every kiss. every breathless whisper of “i love you” against her ear.

azzi shattered again—legs trembling, thighs slick, voice gone—and this time, she didn’t even make a sound. just a breath, a sob, her whole body seizing beneath paige, then going utterly limp. twitching.

and paige finally stopped.

her mouth pressed to azzi’s cheek, then her temple, then the corner of her mouth. her hand stroked through her hair, whispering “you’re okay, you’re okay, i’ve got you,” over and over until azzi could finally breathe again.

azzi’s arms tried to lift, then dropped. spent. tears still clung to her lashes. her lips parted, eyes unfocused, voice slurred when she mumbled, “you win.”

and paige smiled. soft. proud. completely in love.

“i know.”

azzi didn’t move for a long time. not even a twitch. she just lay there, breathing shallow, lips parted, her entire body slack beneath the damp sheets. paige hovered above her, catching her own breath, chest rising and falling with quiet pride and something even deeper—something like awe.

eventually, azzi stirred.

“you’re a menace,” she croaked, voice absolutely wrecked, the smallest smirk tugging at her mouth. “i’m gonna have to be stretchered into the next team meeting.”

paige grinned, not even a little bit sorry. “you’re the one who showed up unannounced.”

“to take care of you,” azzi groaned, dragging a hand across her face. “and now i need my caregiver.”

“well,” paige said, shifting down and kissing her belly button, “consider it mutual destruction.”

azzi let out a hoarse laugh. “i can’t believe you kept going. i think my soul left my body on orgasm number four.”

“number five,” paige corrected. “but who’s counting.”

“you were,” azzi said, eyes fluttering shut as she grinned. “sicko.”

paige rolled to the side and gently pulled azzi with her, wrapping her up in her arms. azzi was limp but pliant, head falling against paige’s collarbone. their skin was sticky, overheated, slick with sweat and everything else, and still, neither of them pulled away.

“you good?” paige murmured into her hair.

azzi made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a hum. “i’m alive,” she said. “barely.”

“wanna rinse off?”

“i can’t walk, bro.”

“so dramatic,” paige teased. “you’re an elite athlete.”

“not anymore,” azzi groaned. “i’ve been retired by your mouth.”

paige laughed, full and warm, and kissed her temple. “okay. i’ll carry you.”

and she did—half-lifting, half-guiding her into the bathroom again. the lights were low, the air warm. paige ran a soft stream from the showerhead and let it trickle down azzi’s back while she held her steady, soaped her up gently, kissed the slope of her shoulder every time azzi leaned too heavily into her.

“this is actually nice,” azzi murmured, finally able to stand on her own as paige rinsed her arms. “i think i forgive you.”

“think?”

“jury’s still out.”

once they were clean and dry, paige tugged azzi back into bed, this time under the covers. she made sure to lotion her shoulders, run her fingers through the knots in her hair, kiss the soft spot behind her ear just because she could.

“you okay now?” azzi whispered after a while, voice drowsy.

paige looked over at her, and something in her chest softened, like all the fight had gone out of her.

“yeah,” she said quietly. “i am now.”

“good,” azzi said, tucking herself into paige’s side. “i don’t ever want you to have to go through something big without me again.”

paige kissed the top of her head, pulled the blankets up around them. “then don’t leave.”

“wasn’t planning on it.”

and they drifted like that—bodies tangled, skin warm, every ache eased by the presence of the other. there was nothing left to prove. just this. just them.

safe. loved. home.

[spaceshipkat]

okay i really do actually want to write this as a fic, where Buck is pulling back to try to get over Eddie and Eddie fucking loses his mind over it, but i’m feeling a mental block for some reason (i think i don’t quite know where to begin this) so here. have this. enjoy. mwah. <3

okay because i’m thinking. i’m thinking Eddie does give Buck space at first—maybe Buck asks for it when he’s moving out. he doesn’t ask Eddie for help in moving out, though, and maybe Eddie doesn’t even know he is until he gets home and finds Buck is gone. and so he kinda freaks out and calls him (maybe facetimes him, and he doesn’t recognize where Buck is, and he asks but Buck is weirdly evasive) and Buck explains he’s getting out of Eddie’s hair, he just needs some time to himself. Buck sounds off but Eddie is used to Buck eventually coming around bc he always does, so even though it freaks him the fuck out and he doesn’t want Buck gone, he says “okay.”

except of course this time Buck doesn’t repeat the cycle. he’s friendly to Eddie at work, but since Chim is captain that makes Eddie Hen’s partner, and Ravi is Buck’s. so Eddie doesn’t get as much personal time with him on the job, he’s not even always in the rig with him, and Buck turns down hanging out with him only for Eddie to later learn he had Ravi over to his new place to idk help him paint the bathroom and eat pizza. and Eddie Does Not Know how to handle that bc wtf does that mean?! why wouldn’t Buck ask Eddie?!

so of course Eddie shows up at Buck’s new place with Chris the next night, and they hang out and it’s like normal again except Eddie can tell Buck is kinda using Chris as a buffer. he rarely makes eye contact, he said “make yourself at home” but it’s like he didn’t really mean it, because when Eddie gets up to do the dishes, Buck scrambles into the kitchen and says “no, no, i got this, you’re a guest.” which like. what. so the next time they hang out, Eddie goes over without Chris and Buck is acting so off. maybe he’s idk baking or something and just keeping the conversation really surface level, rarely makes eye contact and avoids every opportunity to deepen the conversation. and when Eddie leaves, Buck almost seems relieved.

and it goes on and on and on, for weeks, with Eddie trying desperately to keep Buck close, holding onto him by his fingernails and with white knuckles, until one day Buck ends up injured while Eddie isn’t on shift with him, and Buck’s taken to the hospital, and Eddie isn’t called—because Buck removed Eddie as his emergency contact. Eddie only hears about it because Maddie texts asking if Buck’s blue hoodie is still at Eddie’s house, and if so can Eddie bring it to Buck at the hospital?

so Eddie freaks the fuck out and just. HOVERS over Buck when he’s discharged and goes home to his apartment, not Eddie’s house, and so Eddie cancels all prior plans to take care of him, to the point that Carla ends up staying with Chris one night so Eddie can stay with Buck. and maybe they’re on the couch and Buck is loopy from pain meds so he ends up falling asleep on Eddie’s shoulder and this just makes Eddie’s entire body SING he’s so happy, this feels normal, maybe they can get back to being buckandeddie again, maybe this is what Buck needed, a reminder of why they’re better together

but then the next morning Buck asks Eddie to leave, and doesn’t look at him even once. and Eddie is just. flummoxed. he’s so surprised by this because Buck NEVER asks Eddie to leave. never. not once. so he leaves and tries not to cry in his car like some dumb music video, even if he is listening to Adele and eating a granola bar with chocolate chips in it because it was all he had in the glovebox.

and Eddie needs to let himself fall apart in private, maybe. where he doesn’t think Buck would close his eyes to it. but somehow he instead finds himself on Maddie’s front step, and she welcomes him in and is so grateful bc Chim is busy and Robert Nash Han won’t stop crying so Eddie does his cute dad thing and calms the baby down and Maddie finally asks Eddie why he’s here, and Eddie ends up blurting out everything—it can’t be helped, he’s holding a baby so his heart is all soft but it’s also so broken and he just. feels like he’s losing Buck and he doesn’t understand why

and maybe Maddie doesn’t tell him everything, bc she’s protective of Buck and it should be Buck who tells Eddie everything he feels, but she also knows that Eddie is in love with Buck (even if Eddie doesn’t know it yet) and she wants to help them, so she very carefully tells Eddie that Buck is trying to get over him. and Eddie is flabbergasted. he’s bouncing the baby and staring at Maddie and she can see the cogs spinning in his head because “what?” and also “since when?” and more importantly, ringing like an alarm in the station, “why?” because it hits him he doesn’t want Buck to get over him. he was trying to catch up with Buck, with where he really hoped Buck was re: feelings, but his pace wasn’t right—if he kept going slowly, kept waiting for things to happen on their own, he would lose Buck. hell, he’s already losing Buck. and it feels as terrible as when he lost Chris. a piece of himself went missing. he’s terrified that, this time, he won’t be able to get it back.

so he gives the baby back to Maddie and says he has to go and Maddie just smiles and then Eddie shows back up at Buck’s place, and he knocks, and it takes a second but eventually Buck says through the door “go away” and Eddie thinks he sounds like he’s been crying, his voice is wrecked, and so Eddie says no, he’s not leaving, and Buck tells him he can’t do this right now, and Eddie doesn’t care bc if they don’t do it now it might never happen, it might be too late, and so Eddie starts rambling a confession through the door, super heartfelt and weepy and full of apologies, but suddenly one of Buck’s neighbors appears in the hallway and is like “wtf are you doing i’m calling the cops” and Eddie is scrambling to tell her to chill but she is not happy, so Buck opens the door and drags Eddie inside bc he doesn’t need Eddie getting arrested bc Janice is so uppity (Buck has beef with her, it’s annoying)

and Buck is like “why are you doing this” and Eddie says he realized that if he kept waiting he’d lose Buck, and so he’s tired of waiting. he’s not going to wait anymore. he refuses to lose Buck, not when he wants him so fucking much that it makes him feel insane. and Buck is staring at him bc he really can’t believe this is happening, that Eddie wants him, until eventually Eddie is just like “please can i just fucking kiss you” and Buck can’t speak so he just nods and Eddie grabs his face and crushes their mouths together and kisses him and it’s the best thing Eddie’s ever felt, the best he’s ever felt, he didn’t know kissing could be like this, and he laughs and says “why didn’t you tell me it’d feel like this” and Buck is kinda awkward and says “well sorry i’ve got stubble i’m injured and can’t shave” (what is he injured with? i couldn’t tell you) and Eddie laughs and says no i don’t mean that—it’s you. why didn’t you tell me kissing you would feel like this, which doesn’t actually clarify anything but Eddie doesn’t care to elaborate and so he kisses Buck again

and they stumble back to the couch, and because Buck is injured Eddie is so so careful as he pulls off Buck’s clothes and kisses every inch of exposed skin and it’s driving Buck crazy, how Eddie’s huge hands are pressing into his hips, how he keeps biting his neck and his collarbone and his chest to leave hickeys behind, and they’re both so turned on that by the time Eddie gets his clothes off, too, and climbs onto Buck, pressing him into the couch cushions with all his weight, that Buck suddenly starts to understand what Eddie meant. and he says it back, “why didn’t you tell me it’d feel like this,” and Eddie laughs, shifting to properly straddle Buck and wrap his huge fucking hand around their cocks, and he kisses Buck and says “maybe we were supposed to figure it out together,” and Buck feels like he’s going crazy, because Eddie is above him, around him, kissing him, making sounds into his mouth like he wants Buck, like this is every answer to every question he’s ever asked.

and it’s so so so good and Eddie can’t believe he wasted so much time, can’t believe he almost lost this because he was content with waiting for it to happen organically, for some near death experience to be the reason one of them finally snaps and just kisses the fucking life out of them, and he tells Buck he wants Buck to keep him, he wants to be kept, and he wants to keep Buck. he wants to be buckandeddie again, he wants to be Buck’s emergency contact, he wants them to be so goopy soft mushy gross that everyone groans the instant they so much as hold hands or make eye contact. he wants Buck in his home and his bed and in the rest of his life, and they’re so fucking close, the kiss barely more than lips brushing, breaths gasping, teeth nipping—

and then there’s a knock on the door, and they both stare at each other because what the fuck, who could possibly need them right now. but the knock comes again, and so Eddie scrambles for the first clothes he can find, which happen to be Buck’s, so he’s wearing a hoodie and shorts that are way way too big on him, but it makes Buck stare at Eddie like he’s looking at the rest of his life, too. so Eddie goes to answer the door and it’s Athena bc Janice the uppity neighbor did call the cops, and Eddie has a massive hickey on his neck and sex hair and he’s giggling and blushing and Athena sighs bc she doesn’t get paid enough for this. but she does say she’s happy for them, and tells Buck (she can’t see him but she knows he’s sitting on the couch bc she can hear him giggling, though she doesn’t want to know about what) that he better not be doing anything to injure himself further bc he just got out of the hospital, and Eddie smiles and blushes and says “i’m taking care of him” and Athena says “i’m sure you are” and then she leaves and Eddie shuts the door and Buck is still butt naked on the couch and still hard too and so Eddie throws off his clothes and loves and loves and loves him.

yay :) :) :)

[rum-and-shattered-dreams]

To answer the original question- we went to libraries and read books (often encyclopedias) and periodicals. Libraries still exist. Please try them sometime. And sometimes we did the assignment by flashlight while sitting in the back of a tree prop to weigh it down so it didn’t fall forward on a dancer while it was onstage for a daytime performance of your school’s Nutcracker production when that class was next on your schedule. (Specific example but you get the point.)

But to expand on last-minute things - I used to call it “bullshitting (an essay).” And I thought, at the time, that it wasn’t actually useful or good - that it was irresponsible or lazy. But now, looking back on it, it was, in fact, a coping mechanism and a damn good one considering how absolutely awful our public school system (in the US) actually is. (But that’s a topic I’ve already ranted about.)

I was undiagnosed for ADHD and autism and had demand avoidance, anxiety, and short-term memory issues. Those things sucked in an environment where memorizing and regurgitating things on a schedule for a grade that everyone emphasized could affect the rest of your life were the priorities.

So instead of memory and regurgitation, I developed, over time, my own skills in being able to make something up on the spot that contained what I could manage to remember accurately without bringing attention to the parts I couldn’t remember. Bonus points if the essay was part of a test and I could look at the rest of the test and logically pull information from it. (Oh look, research, problem-solving, awareness, and logic skills!) And it turns out that that’s pretty useful even just in everyday conversation. I learned to examine the environment and be aware of everything around me that might be helpful (look around the room for anything that might have a word I can’t remember how to spell or some piece of useful information.) I learned how to communicate through writing quickly and clearly and how to organize my thoughts on the spot.

If it was an essay that required research, I’d gather the materials to do the research then just accept that none of it was going to happen until right before it was due and I’d churn it out at the last minute.

Again, I thought this was procrastination and it was bad but it turns out it was a coping mechanism for poor memory and anxiety. It would have taken so much more effort to break it up over days and basically have to start over every day because I couldn’t remember what I researched yesterday. And it sounds backwards but I was less anxious about getting it done and more anxious about if it was good enough once it was done so it was less stressful to have less time to worry over it after it was done and probably end up screwing it up because of constantly trying to make it better. The procrastination method meant that done at all was better than not done and helped me get over seeking perfection.

So yes, these are learned skills and also good coping mechanisms and they cannot be learned without practice. Having AI do it for you means you are depriving yourself of the incredibly useful skills of research, awareness of the world around you, and of showing what you know/remember in a coherent way while giving yourself grace and privacy for what you’ve forgotten.

Also you’re missing out on the chance to meet people at the library and they often have cool art displayed that you get to see. Seriously, go there. Talk to some fellow humans.

Also the hand drawing thing works. It works for everything in drawing. Anatomy, animals, buildings, etc. If you are bad at it and want to improve, 1000 quick (like 1 minute) drawings of the thing will do it.

"what did students do before chatgpt?" well one time i forgot i had a history essay due at my 10am class the morning of so over the course of my 30 minute bus ride to school i awkwardly used by backpack as a desk, sped wrote the essay, and got an A on it.

six months later i re-read the essay prior to the final exam, went 'ohhhh yeah i remember this', got a question on that topic, and aced it.

point being that actually doing the work is how you learn the material and internalize it. ChatGPT can give you a short cut but it won't build you the the muscles.

[lover-of-mine]

If you liked my recap of 8b, stay tuned for a recap of the switch to abc.

It all started on May 1st 2023 when deadline released an article that made every 911 fan's heart stop for a second with the headline "9-1-1 canceled by Fox, will move to ABC for season 7" (the article was later retitled "9-1-1’ Moving From Fox To ABC For Season 7"). No one knew what to expect, the season 6 finale aired with packaged happy endings that were not all that satisfying but made sense when considering the cancelation threat breathing down their necks.

Not a lot happened after that because the writers and actors strike was happening, obviously halting any possible development or real information to be delivered to us. Until the strike end was announced on November 8th (11/8 if you use month/day) to be officially done on November 9 (9/11 if you use day/month). Not a lot was specified until the day season 7 would be airing on ABC was announced with 118 days' notice.

Filming only formally began in January 2024 but the opening disaster involving Bobby and Athena's cruise was being speculated since season 6 ended with them boarding said cruise, and was confirmed shortly after Christmas.

Once promotion started, it was all overwhelming since Fox only did the basics when it came to promoting the show. Premiere parties, multiple interviews, the 100th episode party mid filming episode 102 for some reason. Angela Bassett is teasing a spinoff. Ryan Guzman is doing interviews about the show for the first time since Eddie Begins. Script about an accident at a basketball accident is posted by Jennifer. Fandom is in a crazy state.

Premiere week comes. Everyone is convinced Buck is about to come out as bisexual but everyone is hesitant to believe it. Ryan ranks buddie moments and says the will reveal was Eddie's way of saying "this goes beyond friendship and I love you to the core". He also giggly says the show is gonna give the fans what they want when it comes to Buck and Eddie and teases they will be closer than ever.

Season airs. Cruise disaster somehow involves pirates, an explosion, and a hurricane. We're being reintroduced to everything. The episode that reintroduces the couples has Buck and Eddie co-parenting. The show is renewed for season 8. Leaks start to fly around that Buck will in fact be coming out on episode 100. Which happens. For the euphoria of everyone in the fandom. Harry is recast but no one remembers his part of the 100th episode. Oliver and Ryan post the same picture of buddie even though Buck just kissed another guy. Oliver promptly disappears from the internet, doesn't really interact with anything about the new ship.

Eddie crashes Buck's first date with a guy. 911 proves they need sensitivity readers by making a very unfortunate comparison of a black kid with a dog dying on a call. Eddie has erectile dysfunction because his girlfriend used to be a nun. After asking said girlfriend to move in with him. Buck says he wishes he could help with that, not relevant I just like mentioning it. Buck comes out to Eddie. Beautiful things are happening in the buddie world.

A small hiatus happens. Promo of the episode includes only Buck and Eddie doing karaoke together even thought it's the madney wedding episode. There's an alarming number of phallic things on and around Buck and Eddie. Most of it doesn't make it to the episode. Cast members go on Family Feud. Funny enough it's all actors who play queer characters plus Ryan. That doesn't air until right before season 8 is about to air. Oliver says he wishes Tommy and Buck can stay friends after they break up. Lou says it was supposed to be Eddie and that Tommy is only there so that Buck can work out the kinks about dating a man. In the meantime, he also opens his cameo and starts selling headcanons a fraction of the fandom starts taking as canon even though Tommy is barely in the season after helping Buck come out to everyone. Oliver blushes to previously unknown shades of red talking about buddie getting married in a possible season 10. He also says he was approached about Buck being bi during season 4 but Fox executives blocked the idea. Buddie fans all around feel vindicated thinking the shooting really was supposed to trigger something. A ship war starts with the help of Lou's cameoverse.

Everything about the episode mentions buddie doing karaoke together. The scene was recorded with actual tequila on set because of how nervous Oliver Stark was. The day before the episode airs Tim Minear goes on record about how they had to cut the scene. The episode is actually about Chimney getting viral encephalitis and forgetting he was supposed to get married. They do get married in the end. He was perfectly fine. Buddie fans are mad at the karaoke being cut, Tim Minear says he wrote something he thought was fun and releases the script saying he didn't cut much, he just didn't want to license the song for a really short clip. Someone jumps into the opportunity to shit on buddie since the ship war is at full steam now, Tim Minear says he ultimately writes buddie for himself. Hen and Karen are trying to adopt.

Devin is seen on set and people are hoping for a fun arc with Eddie facing Shannon's ghost. Tim actually had watched Vertigo in his downtime and decided to make Eddie meet his dead wife's doppelganger. The show frames Eddie as cheating on Buck even though he has a whole girlfriend. Bobby gets another begins episode that makes him a child alcoholic while saving the life of Amir, the husband of someone who died in the fire in Minnesota, fully forgetting he was an addict because of a back injury.

Oliver Stark, who up to this point had stopped posting, posts a full scene of Buck, Eddie, and Christopher to his Instagram story. He later also posted behind the scenes of the karaoke scene, a video that showed that Buck was one of the people who ripped Eddie's shirt and that Eddie was the one pouring alcohol down Buck's throat. The song they were singing is also confirmed as What I Like About You by The Romantics.

Big event is being shot at the firehouse, everyone is half convinced that it's a funeral until Lou sends another cameo with a medal of valor around his neck letting everyone know it's a celebration. Bobby wants to retire and is fully suicidal. Chris walks in on Eddie and Shannon's ghost. Eddie's girlfriend doesn't get a proper breakup. Or lines in her last episode. Bobby and Athena's house is set on fire. Bobby saves her, but his heart stops. The show posts enough still from the episode that we know the full plot before it starts. Bobby's heart stops for 14 minutes with no consequences. Athena decides Amir set her house on fire but it was actually a drug cartel. Chris is allowed to run to Texas on a tantrum, Eddie's parents look a little too happy to do it. Gerrard is back and the last shot of the season kinda feels like a reminder that Gerrard hates minorities but it's never brought up again. Bobby forgets he quit. Henren loses their license to foster because the mother of a drunk driver is on a power trip.

No one likes the way the season ends. There are discussions about daddy kinks. Oliver logs in again to like an Instagram post with a picture of buddie captioned "thumb thumb thumb" referencing the way Buck is rubbing his thumb on Eddie's shoulder. He then leaves for a road trip and it's not seen again in weeks. Lou shuts down the cameoverse. People accuse buddie fans of hacking him after some old posts resurface. There's a Disney-wide data leak and people accuse buddie fans of trying to hack ABC to see the karaoke scene after a scene with Tommy is posted to Instagram. Then a deleted scene with Eddie and Chris is posted.

Filming for season 8 starts. The emergency is a beenado. Ryan has a mustache. Oliver makes fun of it with an Instagram filter and someone does a 4 hour long Twitter space called "Oliver lashing" saying Oliver needs to defend his canon love interest and calling him all sorts of stuff. The emergency stuff start to include planes. Every single article written includes the same buddie still from 710. Where's Waldo game is happening but it's just people trying to figure out if Tommy would be back or not. The first official video of the season is just Oliver and Ryan. Everyone wants to know if the mustache is gay and Tim says it is a "manifestation of something inside of Eddie".

The emergency is actually a mid-air collision. The bees are never mentioned again beyond flying higher. Bobby is working on a tv show. The arc actually fucking slaps, with 3 episodes that make everyone hopeful the season will be good. A child and Athena land the plane on a freeway. Tommy is not there. The thing with Gerrard becomes general "he sucks" not the racism from the begins episodes. Hen proves she's being target, gains Mara's custody back, Gerrard was somehow the key. Eddie looked hot as fuck helping a kid with a bad relationship with his father. Bobby comes back.

Halloween episode happens. Buck gets an actual corpse as decoration. There's a dislocated shoulder and boils and he thinks he's cursed. Denny dies because why let Henren be happy. They start his heart back up though. Throughout the whole season Oliver was posting pictures related to the episode. None of them included Lou even though Lou was the person he worked with the most in that episode. There's a picture of him with Ryan tomdaya style though. A still of Buck in green puts the fandom in a frenzy because it's the color Buck was wearing during his breakups. Tommy turns out to be Abby's ex. Maddie wants more kids. Eddie talks to a gay priest. Maddie is pregnant. Buck and Tommy break up. Eddie does the risky business dance after he shaves. He sits drinking beer with Buck with no pants on.

Mandatory copaganda episode happens and brings up the possibility of Athena getting a rookie that goes nowhere. Bobby ends up having to babysit the star of the show he was working on. Brad gets a whole arc at the station. Eddie decides to go to Texas. They frame the scene where Buck finds out as if he is watching porn. The first half of the season ends. The promo for the rest says Maddie will be kidnapped.

Frenzy starts wondering if Ryan is leaving the show. They post a picture of Oliver and Ryan at midnight on New Year's Day. Filming gets fucked due to fires in LA. A buddie goodbye hug leaks. Oliver plays in the NBA celebrity all-star game. He gets an assist, not relevant, I just like that he's good at basketball.

Second half of the season opens with buddie being a romcom intertwined with a criminal minds episode where Maddie and Athena try to catch a serial killer and Maddie tells them to kill themselves then gets kidnapped by them. She gets her throat slashed trying to escape, because Chimney shows up where she's being held, he doesn't know and almost gets killed himself, don't worry though, she survives and saves Chimney's life with a hammer, did I mention she's pregnant? She's pregnant, doesn't miscarry. It's a boy. In the meantime, Buck tries to sabotage Eddie trying to sublet his house. He tries to make Eddie jealous with a dog. It actually works. They solve their differences, Eddie moves to Texas. Buddie goodbye in the rain sponsored by U-Haul. Buck doesn't have a Jeep anymore.

Bobby's mother shows up, she runs a cult being a faith healer. She's dying of cancer though, Bobby then forgives her for leaving him alone with his alcoholic father and leaving him to become a child alcoholic himself. She's never brought up again. While we are figuring that out, Eddie isn't on the episode but Buck says his name 15 times, he hooks up with Tommy, then Tommy tries to get back together but he calls Eddie the competition, Buck snaps and says he doesn't want to fuck everyone he has feelings for and doesn't have feelings for everyone he fucks, then he escalates to somehow saying Tommy was accusing him of being hopelessly pining for Eddie. All this happens while Buck moves to Eddie's house. Yes, Tommy hooks up with Buck at Eddie's house, fully aware it's Eddie's house then wakes up in the morning, buys champagne and about 100 dollars worth of groceries, because the competition is gone. It didn't go the way he was hoping.

Then we finally see Eddie in Texas, no one cares about what sent Chris to Texas anymore even though that's the first chance to discuss the situation they had in 13 episodes, there isn't an opening at the firehouse, Eddie doesn't have a job, so he sells the truck, becomes an Uber in an 8 minutes long montage of random people in his car, patches things up with Chris after Chris and one of his friends get him as their driver. The episode has product placement for Uber, Prius, Amazon, Playstation, M&MS and GMC. In the meantime Maddie loses her voice in some fear reaction to getting back to the job, she's fine though.

Four buddie facetime calls later, Eddie's parents are being demons, Chris throws up at his chess tournament, Eddie "dad's up" and takes Chris back. We find out he did ballroom dancing. Not relevant, just putting it out there. He didn't yell at his mother but he did leave his father in a city 6 hours away, you win some, you lose some. While this was happening in LA everyone but Athena forgets Hen's birthday and they keep running into the same guy. The guy hijacks a bus, accidentally stabs someone, Hen ends up hostage, the guy is actually quite nice, he gets Hen a gift. This episode is actually added at the last minute, allegedly finished about 7 days before it was set to air. Stills from the episode are deleted because there are lines of white powder next to Kenny, the actual scene might've been edited to cut that out too. Screeners for the episodes start getting delayed. Promotion for the next episode is all over the place even though it even has a cool event name, the actual promo video has a cameraman as a focal shot, Oliver says those episodes have some of his favorite scenes then later says he was lying.

Maddie gets a failed gender reveal party. They answer to a pileup, Ravi doesn't check the backseat, there's a kid trapped, Bobby goes to get the kid, the car explodes, Bobby's survives, Ravi wants to quit, Buck doesn't let him. They answer to a fire at a lab that researches infectious diseases. Crazy scientist creates a super virus to sell the cure for the pandemic she will start because she really really really wants a Nobel Prize. There's a second explosion, Buck is locked out of the lab. Chim is infected, Hen has a collapsed lung, Bobby does surgery. Ravi runs out of oxygen, but Bobby figures out a way to connect them to the room's supply. Their PPE is their normal gear and duct tape. They're diy'ing treatments as Chimney is dying on the phone with Maddie. They find out the cure is in the lab after the military decides they all can die, Ravi, they call him Rav now for some reason, goes to get it, they all get threatened with terrorism charges. The cure isn't there. Everything is lit in the bluest light ever created by men. Athena and Buck go after the cure themselves, they find it, the cure was in a bedazzled Stanley cup she stole from another researcher, this is not relevant, I just like saying it. But then the army and the FBI find them, because every law enforcement agency is in the case now. They distract them with a helicopter chase, which sounds cool but it was really boring, Tim wanted it to be 4 minutes long and had to be stopped, Athena gets the cure to the lab. Chimney is cured. We find out Bobby is infected. He got infected saving Ravi. There's no more cure. Bobby is dead. All charges get dropped because they won't risk people finding out that there was almost an outbreak in LA. We don't see a body though. Hosier is playing. Eddie is not there.

A bunch of stuff about this episode leaks beforehand, including Bobby's funeral procession, a script that shows his burial and resurrection in the form of a 911 call where he says he's being buried alive, and a video of Peter on set in uniform with everyone at the station post filming everything for his death. Everything about this decision is confusing. The episode is rated 3.7 on IMDb. Kenny is crying in interviews, Peter says he doesn't want to leave, Angela says there's no Athena without Bobby. Oliver is being cryptic on Instagram posting and deleting pictures of Brad who would've died in his show but didn't, and referencing the Wrath of Khan in his goodbye post, Ryan is sharing edits of Bobby with a pink bow, Aisha shares a goodbye post with an emotional caption, deletes it and reuploads with a more vague one. A Disney executive goes on record about how they didn't want or approve of this death, but somehow they had to approve Ryan's mustache. Tim said Bobby died for realism with a super virus. While they were filming the procession there was an alleged fight about tomatoes between Ryan and Lou. There were also goofy pictures taken with Bobby's casket that were never posted.

Anyway, there's a 2-week hiatus, nothing makes sense. Everyone is wondering if Bobby is dead for real. No promotion for the episode, journalists get screeners the day of, no interviews. 816 airs. It's actually about Athena helping a mother who thinks her dead son was kidnapped and his death was a coverup. Athena goes full Athena, exhumes the body, there is no body, all signs point to the mother was right. Plot twist, the mother was wrong. Lesson to accept loss or something. Lowkey feels like the show is mocking us. Especially because the case was based on a real-life event where the mother was right and her kid had been kidnapped. And because earlier in the season they use the promise of the captain not dying on a show to talk someone off a ledge. Athena didn't want to choose where to bury Bobby, the military was holding up his body, Gerrard is back, Chim is firmly in the anger stage. Eddie is serving after having 50 seconds of screentime total in the past 3 episodes. Buck is somehow the stable one. No eulogies. The funeral is actually the last 5 minutes of the episode. Athena sends Bobby to Minnesota to be buried with his first wife and kids. No one but her and the kids are there. The scene is somehow the same as the leaked script. We brace ourselves for Bobby to rise from the dead. He doesn't. The episode ends. The water is on fire in the promo for 817. The episode starts rated 2.2 on IMDb, currently sitting at 3.3. No one is happy. Even the Facebook wine moms are pissed and saying they'll never watch the show again.

The cast cancel their appearance at a convention in Paris because production will take longer than expected to wrap. Ryan is finally back on set consistently. There's a small earthquake. More callbacks to previous episodes that a showrunner should be allowed to add. Athena wants to go back to work. Buck and Eddie are fighting like a married couple. Karen is trying to help Athena. Hen doesn't want to be captain. Chim is stress building furniture for the baby. Eddie brings Chris to LA to cheer Buck up. Evancito and cariño are now canon ways a member of the Diaz family has referred to Buck. A bunch of stills of a plotline with Buck are posted but the scenes never make it to the show. A building explodes with Athena right outside.

Production wraps. They have a 20s-themed party at a bowling alley, the drinks make fun of how they get the scripts super late, Oliver doesn't dress up. Oliver and Ryan are sent out to do promo in a way they have never before. Everyone is wondering if buddie is going canon. They don't, but ryliver is definitely up in the air. Oliver calls the you wanna go for the title "super gay" and Ryan calls Oliver his love interest. Oliver seems a bit too happy talking about Ryan's body and Ryan can't make himself read a tweet about being topped by Oliver. Angela talks about 911 at the Met Gala red carpet.

The finale has the weirdest pace ever. Eddie gets a going away party even though he's been living in Texas for months and Buck put in for a transfer out of the 118 with no lead-up. Buck drags a guy out of a closet. Athena and Chimney are teaming up to save a couple of people trapped. The building starts to collapse again. Eddie is getting ready to leave but sees the news and rushes to the scene. He saves Buck and Ravi. There are 4 Eddie dramatic reveals in 3 minutes and 47 seconds of runtime. Complete with superhero music. They save the guy they were trying to save. The kid who was helping them had actually been even more seriously injured. He's dying. But teamwork makes the dream work or something like that and they manage to save the kid in a very blatant parallel to Bobby's death, making it seem that Bobby wouldn't have died if the team was all together. Eddie is still leaving until Chim tells him not to. Captain Han is set up. Eddie's arc is solved without a single conversation on screen after 21 episodes across 2 seasons. Maddie has the baby off-screen. Eddie gets another dramatic reveal, there are 8 Eddie reveals in the last 3 episodes of the season. Athena sells the dream house Bobby and her were building. The kid is named Robert Nash Han. Buck might've moved out of Eddie's house but it's unclear. Hen and Karen finally adopt Mara. It feels like a rushed series finale.

The show is being accused of queerbaiting after successfully dodging that for years, people are wondering if Bobby could still be alive. Angela is giggling at questions, saying she doesn't know the future of the characters, mentioning the funeral had a closed casket. No one is happy. The finale is rated 4. The season somehow has 2 of the 10 top-rated episodes of the show and the bottom 3 episodes and 4 of the bottom 5-tied. Season 9 is confirmed and ABC representatives say there is no end in sight. Somehow Deuxmoi posts about wanting the tea on why Peter got written off. No one knows what to expect from season 9.

And that's not even everything you missed in the last 2 years in 911.

[tarotlexa]

PICK A PILE READING- which artist's muse would you be and why?

helloooo, idk how many of you might recall this but i was VERY interested in making an art series/saga with tarot (like a month or two ago) and i got so busy i forgot to publish it. i think that i might make this into a series since i'm a huge art and history art nerd and what not so we shall see.

the idea behind this pick a pile is reading about whose muse would you be, why would they pick you and what sort of artwork would they make of you.

as usual, this is a collective reading so take what resonates and leave what does not! much love <3

.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀✦ ⠀ ⠀　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀* ⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　ﾟ .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　✦ 　　　　　,　　　　　　　.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　.

.　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　　　　　　　　*

　　　　　⠀　　　　⠀　　,

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　 　　⠀　　　⠀.　

　　˚　　　⠀　⠀  　　,　　　　　　.

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　　　　　　*⠀　　⠀  　　　　　⠀✦⠀　

　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　.

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　　　˚　　　　　　　　ﾟ　　　　　.

　.⠀　　⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀,

　　　*　　⠀.

　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　⠀✦

　˚　　　　　　　　　　　　　　*

.⠀ 　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　.

　　　　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　    　　　　　　　　.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀✦ ⠀ ⠀　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀* ⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　ﾟ .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　✦ 　　　　　,　　　　　　　.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　.

.　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　　　　　　　　*

　　　　　⠀　　　　⠀　　,

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　 　　⠀　　　⠀.　

　　˚　　　⠀　⠀  　　,　　　　　　.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　.

　　　　　　*⠀　　⠀  　　　　　⠀✦⠀　

　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　.

　　　　.　　　　.　　　

　　　　　　　　　　　.

　　　˚　　　　　　　　ﾟ　　　　　.

　.⠀　⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀,

　　　　　✦⠀　   　　　,

pile 1: you would absolutely be the muse of schiele, known to be haunting, electric, melancholic and raw. he was known for his nervous, obsessive linework and sexually charged emotional portraits, that's why he would have gravitated towards your energy instantly, you'd haunt him because you would remind him of his previous muses and previous artwork.

he's an expressionist, an artist who prefers the truth to perfection, he'd want to portray your raw emotions. something about you draws people in even when you're not trying. he would choose you as his muse because he'd see you as someone who's carrying a lot but still moves forward and wins. that contrast would intrigue him because he would love to portray that sort of feeling in his art. also your contrast between pressure and strength, sadness and perseverance would make you stand out. you'd be "real" to him, perfect as his muse. he would be pulled to how resilient you are, you would inspire work that explores struggle, pride, healing and identity. he would feel changed by you, you wouldn't be just a muse but someone who'd end up shaping both him and his work in the long term. he wouldn't make party scenes or beauty shots of you, instead he would make something that focuses on your more private, serious side, not your social image or an aesthetic. as i mentioned before, he doesn't care about perfection. you would be painted in moments where you're alone with your thoughts and he'd create a recurring theme out of you in his work, someone he would keep coming back to. he'd strip you down figuratively to get something raw and personal out of you. he'd want to see the real you. think sharp lines, tense posture, hollow eyes or visible bone structure, the kind of portrait that makes people pause because it would make them feel as if they walked in on something private. what would attract them would be the fact that you wouldn't be styled, you would be shown exactly as you are, tired, defiant, vulnerable, burnt out. he would draw you in the same pose in different days, you would be someone he would study as a long term project. sketches done late at night and so many different versions of you that he would never show to others.

pile 2: before i tell you about the artist i must tell you that you would definitely be a famous or immortalized muse as a result of their artwork, someone that would literally be famous in art history due to the artwork that would have been made with you as a muse. you would become part of the standard of a movement or an artist's artwork, like their main "icon".

i think you could be the muse of artists that gravitate towards the surreal, symbolic and psychological imagery of some kind. a few names come to mind, maybe leonora carrington, odileon redon or remedios varo or even salvador dalì. your artist(s) would love to decode you, you'd inspire hallucinations or visions or symbols in them. they'd be obsessed with your subconscious and your mystery, another name that came to mind was rené magritte. they'd choose you because you'd be seen as the perfect poster person for their obsessions, you're sharp, observant but emotionally self contained. they'd sense that there's something different in you that's powerful and mentally complex. you might even be someone who resists being seen, that detachment is part of your pull and the reason why they'd choose you in the first place. you're not desperate to become a muse, which is why you become one. they wouldn't just paint you but they'd build a whole world around you, you'd become part of their personal mythos. a recurring character or a symbol, a riddle they would revisit over and over again (think beatrice for dante). expect coded symbolism in their work, something like birds, mirrors or ritualistic details. you wouldn't be just represented in form but also in concept, in the way that artists channel ideas through recurring icons or visual language. they'd portray you alone, powerful, untouched, in ornate settings or surreal environments. the art they'd make of you would be studied, interpreted and obsessed over. you would become part of their religion.

pile 3: pile 3 might be my favorite here because of the contradictions that have shown up during your reading. so layered and complex which i LOVE.

you'd be the muse of artists who paint from memory and focus on emotional complexity, they wouldn't romanticize you but they'd keep coming back to you because they'd feel like there's something about you that still feels unresolved. you're not loud or dramatic or seductive in an obvious way, you are someone they'd associate with pivotal emotional moments (first love, regret, heartbreak, grief...). a few names that come to my mind are millais in his post ophelia phase, monet after camille, edward hopper for the emotional distance that you carry and even frida kahlo due to those emotionally complex themes. you'd be someone that would remind them of the person they miss or idealize or can't let go of. also vilhelm hammershoi who often painted people turning away from the viewer. they'd choose you as their muse because you give off a contrast, emotionally warm but hard to reach. you're not the type of person to reveal much but you still manage to feel like a safe place for other people. this tension alone would be compelling to them. physically there's something about you that would feel nostalgic, maybe the way you dress or hold yourself or your expressions. you might have a stillness or seriousness that others read as aloof. they'd be drawn to how you carry your emotions in silence and the fact that you're not performing for anyone. they'd also see something pure and warm in you. you'd challenge them to look at parts of themselves they'd rather avoid, you are someone who's hard to get. you'd be the kind of person they'd fall in love with during one summer and then compare every future person to, even years later, this would drive them to keep creating because they'd still be trying to understand what they lost. the art they'd make of you would be emotional, they'd pour their feelings into the work but they'd try to contain them too because losing control would mean admitting how deeply you affected them. expect portraits that don't show your face entirely or artwork that would focus on a part of you (like your body, your hair, your hands). scenes you were once in but now you're absent and that absence becomes the subject. the vibe would be soft melancholy and sweet nostalgia. they might even paint you in moments of stillness, not as you were with them but as you miht be now without them. their work would become a way to hold onto you. they would never sell these pieces, they'd keep them in their studios only showing them to people they deeply trust. it feels very romantic overall.

thank you for reading <3

[centaurianthropology]

Murderbot as a ‘Cringe’ Litmus Test for the Audience (a.k.a., we are culturally the Corporation Rim)

One of the more interesting things I’ve seen in discussions of ‘Murderbot’ are how many people are not happy that the show made the Preservation team more explicitly hippies.  After all, per our current cultural zeitgeist, hippies are silly, over-earnest, over-feeling, over-EVERYTHING. Why is this team of scientists holding hands and humming?  Why are they taking breaks in the middle of a tense situation to reassure a colleague that they love him? Why do they stand around playing music and dancing during their downtime?  Why did the show make them “Cringe”?

And that got me thinking again about the current cultural antipathy toward sincerity and openness.  People who are seen as open and sincere beyond a fairly narrow scope of emotional expression are treated as deeply weird, off-putting, and most importantly for this conversation, as INCOMPETENT.  You can’t be goofy and competent.  You can’t believe in the power of love and friendship and holding hands and taking a dance break, and still be a good scientist.  You can’t have one of the unsexy sorts of mental health problems (panic disorder) and be a good leader.  In our current cultural moment, you have to be Cool.  You have to be unaffected by both the horrors of the world and the day-to-day joys. 

I think that a lot of people see themselves in ‘The Murderbot Diaries’, and a lot of them understandably love the very anticapitalist tone of the books.  And they wanted Preservation to be Cool Space Communists.  Hypercompetent at all times, serious, without flaw.  Because any personal flaws might be taken as flaws in their cultural and political leanings, right?  And we can’t have silliness or goofiness or fun in our Communist Utopia, or people won’t take us seriously.

But to me, the tension is so much better, so much more real and human and FUN. And it makes the audience question their own implicit biases as much as SecUnit is going to have to contemplate its implicit biases.  This team is comprised of highly talented scientists from a culture that values emotions and, yes, activities that we the audience have been culturally trained to think are Cringe.  They do have a humming consensus circle—so that anyone in the team can have veto power over a decision that has major ramifications not only for a research project, but for their own ethics.  They do like to play music and dance when they’ve got some free time, even if that music would be considered embarrassing or offputting to outsiders.  They do openly love one another and support one another, even in—no, especially in—challenging times.  It’s good to have that tension, both to tell the story and to give the characters and the AUDIENCE an emotional and thematic arc.

Let’s use Dr. Mensah as a the best example so far of this tension. Mensah is a good leader.  In every scene where she’s with the group, she’s the heart of it.  She’s always weighing the fears, the thoughts, the feelings, and the arguments of her friends to come to a decision.  She doesn’t feel like Gurathin’s right about not trusting SecUnit, but she’s also very aware that he knows more about the Corporation Rim than she does, and that his arguments, while rooted in his fears, are rational.  So she ends up deciding that they’ll leave the SecUnit behind for their mission. 

And it’s the wrong call. Going out to the dark site in the map without the SecUnit almost gets her killed. But her decision to climb the scree pile alone makes sense, because she doesn’t want to further endanger Bharadwaj, and if she doesn’t climb up there with her equipment, they won’t get important information about what’s going on with their survey data. And yes, while she’s climbing she has another panic attack. But she keeps climbing through it. Hell, she even takes a moment to encourage the teamwork between SecUnit and Gurathin, because that’s an important part of being their leader.  And, yes, they both roll their eyes because they still don’t like one another. But the important thing is that she’s created this sense of openness, of acceptance, of love.

Being a good leader doesn’t mean making the right call all the time.  It means learning from both right calls and wrong calls.  It means creating an environment where people can be wrong, and learn from their mistakes, and try again to get it right.  And it works!  Gurathin may roll his eyes, but he also has the space to apologize for getting it wrong. He has the space to fuck up and try again. And that is created by her encouragement, by her openness, by her caring even when it becomes embarrassing to a man raised in our culture the Corporation Rim, where open emotion is something to smirk at.

And when she’s alone, Mensah falls apart.  When no one can see her, she has panic attacks, because things are starting to go pear-shaped for these people she loves.  Because one of her dear friends nearly died, and she wasn’t there, and apparently that could happen at any time because their maps are faulty, and the only real rescue is an untrustworthy bond company that is a week away at best.  That’s a perfect recipe for a panic attack, but she hides them because she knows what she needs to be for her friends and colleagues.  She is the leader, and damned if she’s going to let something like her panic disorder stop her from doing that.

That’s not incompetent, that’s incredibly courageous.  Her bravery lies in being afraid and pushing through, not being flawless from the off.  The bravery and the competence and the things that eventually are going to win Murderbot over to loving these humans ARE their flaws and the fact that they don’t let those flaws stop them from trying to be the best people they can be, while also being true to a culture of being open and loving to the point that they can come across, to the jaded construct or audience member, as Cringe.

I think we’re going to see more and more of that as the show unfolds.  We’ve only just laid the groundwork, and established the initial impressions of all the characters.  They are being set up for arcs, and by electing to let the Preservation team be more out-there, more earnest, more Cringe, they’re setting the audience up for an arc too.

Anyway, loving the show, can’t wait for the DeltFall storyline to kick off tonight.  And I love this crew being highly-competent space hippies with realistic human flaws, who love and support one another.  In an unrelentingly Cool, Bleak, and Edgy television landscape, it really is nice to have kind characters be free to be their kooky selves without the show judging them for it.

[landoughnut]

Mr. Darcy Who? - LN4

masterlist - request

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

summary: you're a book influencer dating lando, and when interviewed, he admits he's gotten into reading because of you (requested)

w/c & a/n: smau | thank you for the request! I didn't know if you wanted an smau or not so I picked, I'm sorry if you wanted written!

yourusername

liked by lando, mclaren, alexandrasaintmleux, lilyzneimer, and 3,192,487 others yourusername new rec video dropping soon! you all asked for summer recs, so you all shall receive summer recs 🌸

view all comments

lando my precious beautiful girl who I love so dearly 🥰

yourusername why are you saying that like you did something wrong...

lando yourusername I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING??? jeez a guy can't love his girlfriend these days without being blamed for something 🙄

lando when you finish annotating that book can I have it pretty please with two and a half cherries on top 🥺

yourusername why only two and a half

lando yourusername because im eating half of the third, duh 😋

oscarpiastri lando another book? you called me crying at the ending of iron flame

yourusername lando EXCUSE ME?? YOU CALL OSCAR INSTEAD OF ME?? ARE YOU JOKINGGGGGGG

lando yourusername IM SORRY MY SWEET LOVE I WAS EMBARRASSED

yourusername lando oh I'll show you embarrassed. if you dare to rant to someone other than ME about MY books that you stole, I'm telling everyone what book you wanted to buy

lando yourusername dully noted 😅 I'll make it up to you tonight

mclaren lando here we go again...

user1 do my eyes deceive me?? lando... reading????

yourusername I'm turning him into a book boyfriend, you're welcome ladies 🤗

user2 yourusername I'm jealous 😪

lando yourusername what even is a book boyfriend... I don't know what a morally gray love interest is but apparently I am one

yourusername lando details aren't necessary love, but yes you are 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

user3 lando a book boyfriend is the male love interest that girls in the book community all obsess over together

lando yourusername YOU HAVE OTHER BOYFRIENDS????

yourusername lando oh my gosh THEY ARE FICTIONAL

yourusername user3 WHYYYY would you tell him that now he's never going to stop bothering me

alexandrasaintmleux wow I need to learn how to be you asap

yourusername girly pop I'm trying to be YOU

yourusername also look at my baby fluffykins is he adorable

user4 almost as cute at you 😉

lando user4 bye.

user5 did I miss something? since when does LANDO read?

user6 when they started dating a little over a year ago! she has a YouTube channel about books and met him at an event and started dating, then I guess he just picked it up from stealing her books

lilyzneimer we should go to barnes together!

yourusername omg yes pleaseee 🥹 I'll plan it

lilyzneimer yourusername yayy! 🤭

skysportsf1

liked by lando, yourusername, f1, mclaren, oscarpiastri and 1,284,536 others skysportsf1 lando finally speaks about how he's always so calm before racing! here's the secret (or not anymore): he said he either reads one of yourusernames annotated books or facetimes her so she can read to him 📖

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user6 AWWWWWW THAT'S SO CUTE 🥹

user7 damn I'm feeling extra single now...

yourusername my baby looks so handsome omg

lando I love you.

yourusername I love you most 😚

user8 the way he said "her voice is more calming than anything I could ask for" I'm gonna cry

user10 okay but what kinda books is he reading

yourusername well I read every genre so he usually just picks whatever book with a cover that sticks out to him, right now he's reading the republic by plato

user11 yourusername DANGGG I didn't know he new sophistication like that

yourusername user11 believe it or not but he actually got into philosophy recently!

user12 HELLO? why is no one talking about how he immediately smiles when the interviewer - or anyone for that matter - mentions her

user13 I KNOWW its adorable look at him blushinggg 🥹

user14 she's living the life bro, dating an f1 driver and having my dream career

lando erm actually 🤓 I'm living the life cause I get to wake up next to her every morning

user14 lando so you want me to go sleep on the highway

yourusername lando AWHHH ILY SO SO MUCH COME KISS ME

lando yourusername 🏃🏃

maxverstappen1 you two are disgusting

lando maxverstappen1 just say you're jealous and move on

yourusername the amount of times he's fallen asleep on me reading to him a few hours before the race starts is crazy

user15 I swear he feels so safe with her

lando baby don't rat me out 😭

yourusername lando but I love when you do because then I get to secretly braid your hair 😊

lando yourusername believe it or not but I'm usually half awake and just pretend to sleep cause its so relaxing

yourusername lando of course you do 🙄 just ask me next time

user16 if they’re not married by the next season I’m suing.

carlossainz55 why are you always giggling when you talk about her

lando excuse me for being in a happy and healthy relationship

lando

liked by yourusername, f1, carlossainz55, maxfewtrell, and 2,491,638 others lando thank you my love for introducting me to books, they relax me almost as much as making out with you 🤗

view all comments

yourusername baby I love you but the last part really wasn't necessary 😭

mclaren agreed

lando but its true 🥺

charles_leclerc I agree with your girlfriend tmi 🤢

lando charles_leclerc okay well no one asked you 😒

f1 best couple award goes to:

carlossainz55 I remember the days when you had a crush on her and was too nervous to start a conversation 😂 poor guy would stutter everytime she looked at him from across the room

lando I dont know what you are talking about. don't believe him everyone he's lying.

maxverstappen1 lando he's not 🙂 and I think I also remember you buying your own pride and prejudice cause you binge watched all her videos and knew it was her favorite book

lando .... well fuck me then I guess it's spill all of lando's secrets day 😄

yourusername lando ARE THEY TELLING THE TRUTH??? 🥹

lando yourusername I guess....... maybe.....

yourusername lando YOU ARE SO CUTE I CAN'T 🥹

user17 lando is setting the standards high dang

pierregasly user17 fr he's making me look bad

user18 what book did you read before the Imola gp

lando wuthering heights (yourusername's pick)

lando though tbh I wasn't paying attention for most of it cause she was playing with my hair and I couldn't keep my eyes open

user19 I PRAY THIS LOVE FINDS ME UGHHH

oscarpiastri so like no one wants to hear about to two lip locking

lando so like too bad 😝

maxfewtrell tell her to come onto the next stream I miss my bestie

yourusername MISS YOU MORE KING

lando oh so SHE'S you're best friend now?? what am I???

maxfewtrell lando my best friends boyfriend

lando maxfewtell I'll block you bitch

user20 NO ONE IS TALKING ABOUT HER DRESS BRO I'M OBSESSED PLEASE DROP THE LINK

lando my extremely talented love made it herself actually‼️ she looks beautiful in it doesn't she

user21 lando so she really is just perfect

lando user21 she is 😍 hey siri, play perfect by one direction

[ofstarsandvibranium]

A Happy Ending?

Fandom: The Last of Us

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Your son and Ellie try to play matchmaker with you and Joel.

A/N: reader is 50+ years old in this fic with a 25-29 year old son! also i just wanted something cute and happy bc i miss joel...

The Last of Us Masterlist | Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

James had been spending a lot of time with Joel. He became interested in carpentry when Ellie showed him the guitar Joel made her.

So now you barely see your son because he’s spending all his time with Joel. Not that you mind. Honestly, James is almost 30 and never had a good father figure growing up. (Blame the outbreak and decreasing faith in humanity for that). So you’re grateful he has Joel and that Joel has taken a liking to him.

But you’re still James’ mother and he’ll always be your baby.

You knock on the door of Joel’s place. You don’t wait long until Ellie opens the door.

“James, your mom’s here!” She hollers and you giggle.

You ruffle the young teen’s hair, “How long have they been working?”

Ellie rolls her eyes, “All day. Joel hasn’t even given me my guitar lesson for the day. Tell your son to fuck off!”

You laugh, “I’ll see what I can do, but he’s a grown man.” You walk further into the home and see Joel and James hunched over the dining table, each with some pieces of wood and shavings surrounding them.

You stand behind your son, hands on his shoulders, “How’s it going, boys?”

James beams up at you and you see remnants of the young boy he used to be, “We’re carving out wooden cars for Ben’s birthday.”

“That’s sweet.”

“Everythin’ okay?” Joel asks, tilting his head down to look over his glasses.

You feel your cheeks heat up under his gaze, “Yeah, just wanted to see if I should wait for James before making dinner.”

“Shit,” your son mumbles and looks at his watch, “I lost track of time. I’m sorry, mom.”

You pay down his hair, “Baby, it’s fine. I’m glad you’re spending time with Joel and not your boring mom.”

James scrunches his face, “You’re not boring.”

You snort, “Tell that to his brother,” you nod at Joel, “Always trying to get me to go to movie nights and get togethers.”

“That’s Tommy for ya. Pain in the ass,” Joel says with a smirk, “Don’t mind him though. He’s only doing what he thinks will be good for you.”

“What about you? You think you know what’s good for me, Joel?” You give him a smirk and it makes him squirm in his chair a bit.

You and Joel have been playing this game for months now. This cat and mouse, back and forth game. Flirting and teasing and then pulling back. Honestly, at your grown age, you should be tired of it, but it brought a little thrill back into your life.

Joel clears his throat, “Suppose I don’t, but whatever you think is good for you, just..do that, I guess.”

You chuckle, “Sure, Joel,” you put your attention back on your son, “So, honey, should I wait for you?”

James shakes his head, “Nah, it’s okay. Go ahead. If anything, just leave me some leftovers or-“

“Don’t worry, we’ll feed him,” Joel says, not looking up from his project.

“You sure?”

He nods, “Yup.”

“Alright. Thanks, Joel,” you kiss James’ head, “Don’t stay here too late. The old man will probably need to sleep soon.”

Joel gives you the finger and you laugh while exiting his home.

Once you’re gone, James leans in, “Soooo…”

“Don’t start,” Joel gives him a warning glare.

The younger man holds his hands up, “I’m just sayin’, I give you my blessing to date my mom. You guys clearly have…something between you two.”

Joel takes off his glasses and sighs, leaning back in his chair, “I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life, kid. And your mom? She’s pure and good and I don’t wanna taint her with my shit.”

James can’t help but scoff, “You think my mom’s pure and good? You don’t think she had to do some shitty things in order to raise me during a fucking apocalypse?” He shakes his head, “Man, I get it. You think you’re too old and tainted to have something good in your life, but after everything we’ve all gone through, we deserve good things. You deserve good things, Joel. And my mom? She likes you, really likes you. She hasn’t said it to me but I see it. I just-I want my mom to be happy and I think you can be that for her.”

“I agree,” Ellie says as she appears in the room.

Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, “Fucking-Don’t gang up on me like this.”

Ellie shrugs, “He’s right, plus you can cut the sexual tension you two have with a knife!”

James grimaces, “Ugh. Please don’t talk about my mom having sex. I don’t wanna picture that.”

Ellie rolls her eyes, “Grow up, dude!”

“You grow up!”

“You’re almost thirty and sex grosses you out?”

“Sex doesn’t gross me out! The idea of my mom having sex grosses me out! You can’t tell me that the idea of Joel having sex-“

Joel decides to break up the argument, “Okay! Okay! Hey! Hey! Break it up, you two! Jesus,” he shakes his head, “Enough talking about my sex life!”

“Or lack thereof,” Ellie mumbles causing James to snicker.

Joel glares at the two, “Enough. Nothing is going to happen between Y/N and I.”

“Because you don’t want to?”

“Because it just can’t, alright? Let’s leave it at that.” He says his words with finality and goes back to working on Ben’s birthday present.

Ellie and James give each other and knowing look and then Ellie mumbles, “Whatever, dude,” and heads back to her room.

____________________________________

There's a knock at your door mid-day. You'd just gotten back from helping out in the community garden, so you're covered in soil. Nonetheless, you open the door to reveal Ellie on the other side.

"Oh, hey! James isn't here-"

"I know, I'm here to see you, actually," she steps inside and you close the door behind her.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah, um, Dina mentioned that you know how to bake. Was wondering if you could teach me?"

You look at her in surprise, "Really? Didn't think you'd be interested in that."

The young teen shrugs, "Think it'd be a nice skill to have. That way I can bake shit whenever I want and don't have to trade an arm and a leg for it."

You snort, "Very true, but sure. Lemme just take a quick shower and we can get started. Feel free to hang out here. Some of James' old comics and books are on the shelf there." You point to the bookshelf in the living room.

"Sweet!" Ellie heads straight to it and you rush upstairs for a quick shower.

Twenty minutes pass and you're in the kitchen with damp hair and smelling like flowers. You have all the ingredients laid out in front of you, "Okay, so first, we pre-heat the oven so by the time we're done mixing everything together, it should be ready to pop it in."

You show her how to pre-heat the oven and then guide her back to the counter, so the best method for this is to mix all the dry ingredients together in one bowl. And the wet ingredients in another bowl, then combine them."

"Cool. Got it." You give her the measurements of each ingredient, instructing her the best way to mix everything and what to look out for. Ellie's smart and a quick learner, so she gets through it very quickly.

"Fuck yeah," she mumbles to herself in excitement when she pours out the batter into the 12-cup muffin tin.

You laugh, "You've done well so far. So now that the oven is at the temperature we want, we just slide the tin in and let them cook for about twenty-five minutes."

She slides the tin in and closes the door, "So what should we do while we wait?"

"We clean all this up," you gesture to the dirty dishes and flour and egg droppings on the counter, "and wait."

"Boring," Ellie groans, but continues to help you anyway. As you two wash the dishes, she makes conversation.

"So...how's your love life?"

You cackle at her abrupt question, "My love life?"

"Yeah. You seeing anyone? Anyone catch your eye?," she leans in and whispers, "You can tell me, I can keep a secret."

You laugh even more, "I find that hard to believe considering you and Dina share everything."

Ellie scoffs, "She's my best friend. Of course, I tell her everything." She places the spatula she washed into the the drying rack, "But we're not talking about me. We're talking about you."

You hum for a moment, "Fine. I'll play along. To answer your question, no, there isn't really anyone that's caught my eye. Not sure dating is my top priority right now."

"Why not? Don't you want someone at your side before you die?"

You look at Ellie in disbelief, "Okay, first off, I don't think I'm croaking any time soon. Second, why are you interested in my love life? Did James say something?"

"No! I just noticed that you seem to be by yourself all the time, especially since James has been spending all his time with Joel."

You sigh, "I appreciate your concern, Ellie, but I'm fine. My priority is James as well as doing my part in helping this community. What I want doesn't matter."

Ellie holds back a groan because you're starting to sound exactly like someone she knows...

_________________________

James, Joel, Tommy, and several others are working on building a new shed for some supplies. James is, basically, Joel's apprentice, and follows him everywhere, learning what he can from the older man.

As they both hammer away at planks of wood set to be the foundation of the shed, James makes conversation, "So, uh, you going to the barbecue on Friday?"

"Maybe, not sure," Joel stands up straight and rolls his shoulders, "Why?"

"I'll be there...with my mom."

Joel rolls his eyes, "James," he shakes his head, walking away, but the young man follows him, "I know you said for me to drop it, but just hear me out!"

Tommy happens to walk by and smirk, "Hear you out on what?"

Joel whips around, "Don't-"

"I think him and my mom would make a great couple."

Tommy processes the words and then smiles, "I agree."

Joel places his hands on his hips and lets his head hang low. He shakes his head, "Fucking kill me."

Tommy laughs and pats Joel on the shoulder, "Come on, brother, Y/N's a great woman. She'd definitely soften up that hard exterior of yours."

"I'm too old for this shit."

"Hell you ain't. Linda and Daniel just got together and they're older than you! Never too late to find love, even when the world's ended. Worked out for me," he gave his brother a wink and Joel wanted to punch him in the face.

James sighs, "You know I do it 'cause I care about you guys, right? There's chemistry between you and my mom and I think you'd both be dumb to not pursue it. Your pride and stubbornness be damned! I just want my mom to be happy," he mumbles the last sentence before heading back to the area that he was working on, leaving Joel to stew on his words.

It's not like Joel hasn't thought about having something with you. He's definitely thought about it. A lot. And more recently now that he and Eliie keep bringing you up. But there's still that small part of him that feels like he doesn't deserve you. It took him a lot to open his heart up to Ellie, but does his heart have room for more?

__________________________

James is out on patrol, so it's just you in the house. You figured now would be a good time to visit Joel, so you do, with a basket of baked goods.

You find him in the garage working on a truck. He's hunched over the hood and you clear your throat, startling him. He jolts, hitting his head on the hood.

You hear a hiss of pain and you rush over to him, "Shit! I'm so sorry, Joel. Didn't mean to scare you!" you look at his head, making sure there isn't any blood or swelling.

"'s alright, sweetheart. No harm, no foul."

You step back, realizing how close you've gotten, "Still, I'm sorry. Anyway, the reason for me being here is to thank you."

"For?"

"Just taking James in, being a mentor and showing him the ropes on how to fix and build things. I've done my best trying to teach him that stuff growing up, but I'm not as skilled as you are. So," you hold out the basket, "made some bread and muffins for you and Ellie and, well, anyone else you'd like to share them with. Also put in some lavender honey in there I made myself." You hand him the basket and he accepts it.

Joel looks at the basket and then you, "Well. shit. You didn't need to do all this."

You shrug, "It's nothing, really. I just-I really appreciate what you've done for James. I can tell he really looks up to you. He's never had a stable male figure in his life, so thanks."

"Yeah. You're welcome. He's a good kid. You did well."

"I did the best that I could given the circumstances. But I can say the same with you and Ellie. She's also a good kid."

Joel scoffs and props a hand on his hip, "She's a pain in my ass," he pauses and a small smile appears on his face, "But yeah, she's a pretty good kid."

You clear your throat, "Well, I'll let you get back to work," you take a few steps back and Joel stops you, "Wait!" You pause and he realizes what he's done. He curses under his breath and scratches the back of his head, "Wanna share some of these over a cup of coffee?"

You softly smile, "You should share them with other people. I make these all the time."

"I wanna share them with you, if that's okay?"

You giggle and shake your head, "Alright, if you insist."

You follow him into the house and to the kitchen. He sets the basket on the kitchen island and heads to the pot of coffee.

You lean against the counter, "Still keeping your coffee plug a secret?"

Joel gives a low chuckle as he pours a cup for you and himself, "Yeah, how else am I supposed to lure you in here?" He slides you the sugar container and you pour spoonful of it in.

"You know I come by a lot because James is always here."

He cocks a brow and smirks into his cup, "That all?"

"Nah, I like chatting with Ellie too. She's funny."

Joel hums, staring at you over his coffee cup. You're avoiding his eyes, but you feel them staring at you. You mess with the handle of the mug before speaking up again, "Do you get lonely, Joel?"

"Sometimes. Why?"

"Some stuff has come up and just made me think about things."

"Like what?"

"Us, this...game we've been playing. I flirt with you. You flirt with me, then one of us pulls back. And then we start all over again. And endless cycle...does it mean anything?" You still don't look up at him, "To me, it was all fun at first. Flirting with you and you flirting back, it made me feel alive again. Then when you pulled away and distanced yourself, I dunno. Didn't feel good."

You sigh and finally look at him, "Sorry. I'm rambling. I just want to know if this is a waste of time. It probably is," you push your mug away and stand straighter, "Thanks for the coffee," you murmur before walking away.

And for the second time today, Joel stops you, "Wait. Wait, please," he holds his arm out and you pause.

He gulps and lets out a shaky breath, "To be frank, I'm not very good at this. I'm rusty as hell, but..it wasn't just flirtin' to me, sweetheart. I like you. A lot, but you're too fucking good for me and I don't deserve someone like you."

You look at him with soft eyes, slowly approaching him. You place your hands on his chest, "Joel Miller...you are such a self-sacrificing son of a bitch," you whisper before pressing your lips to his.

The kiss is slow and hesitant. You feel Joel holding back and it isn't until you wrap your arms around him that he lets go. He allows himself to have you like this.

He presses you up against the counter, rough hands digging into your hips. He presses himself into you and you moan into his lips.

He feels himself hardening at the sound and he immediately pulls away., "Sorry, sorry. Um," he steps further away from you, running a hand down his face, "Didn't mean to get carried away."

You laugh, "It's fine, Joel. You're fine."

He takes up his usual pose, hands on his hips and contemplation on his face, "So...what now?"

"Now, we see how it goes. Not only will you have James bothering you all the time, but I'll be there with him."

Joel softly smiles at you, "I think I'll be okay with that."

______________________________

When James comes back from patrol, Ellie immediately runs up to him, "Dude!"

"What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong! Everything's right!" Ellie stares up at him with excitement.

James looks at her suspiciously, "What happened?"

"I saw your mom bring Joel the muffins we baked the other day and they went inside the house. They were making out! Our plan worked!"

He held up his hand, "Hold on, you were watching out parents makeout?"

"Ew, no! Dina and I peeped through the kitchen window and saw them sucking each other's faces-"

"Please spare me the details."

Ellie rolls her eyes, "So fucking childish," she murmurs, "but anyway we did it. Joel and your mom are together!"

"Great! Now I need to tell Joel that if he hurts her, I'll kill him."

Ellie snorts and crosses her arms over her chest, "Pretty sure he'd kill himself if he ever does. But whatever. They get their happily ever after and shit!" she lightly punches his arm and goes walking off to wherever.

___________________________

"You fucking cheated!"

"I didn't! Uno is literally a game of chance! It's not my fault you kept pulling yellow cards when blue is called!"

You and Joel watch as Ellie and James argue with each other on the floor, while you and he are cuddled up on the couch.

You lean in, whispering, "Aren't you glad our kids get along?" you ask with sarcasm dripping in your tone.

He chuckles, "Oh yeah, they get along great," he whispers back and then kisses your head.

For the first time in a very long time, Joel feels whole and happy again.

[kxsagi]

Hiii, how are you? 💘 Can I request Blue Lock boys (Nagi, Reo, Rin and idk more 😭) with a girlfriend who collects Calico Critters?

“𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐨 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬”

a/n: CALICO CRITTERS WAS MY CHILDHOOD I HAD THE ADVENTURE TREEHOUSE ONE

also hiii i'm good! i hope you are, too! thank you for being so patient with me love ❤️

ft. nagi seishiro, mikage reo, itoshi rin, isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi sae, kaiser michael, karasu tabito, ness alexis, niko ikki

nagi seishiro

at first, he’s confused. "why do they all have tiny furniture? do they fight with it?" 

you once caught him making two of the bunnies “duel” with forks. it was… oddly cinematic. 

secretly obsessed. he pretends he doesn’t care but you’ll find your calico bear moved slightly, like someone posed it to sit on a couch and watch TV. 

"can i touch this one?" he points at a squirrel with a pink dress. if you say yes, he cradles it like a newborn baby and doesn’t give it back for three days. 

he tries to nap in your room but always ends up staring at the tiny dollhouse setups. "this is so detailed… what the heck. you built a bakery? why's it better than mine in animal crossing..." 

mikage reo

he buys you limited edition calico critter sets the second they drop. like he’s faster than collectors with bots. 

"this one's from a store in france. overnight shipping. look, the hedgehogs have a piano." 

thinks it's so hot that you're good at decorating miniature rooms. like. he brags about it. “my girlfriend has better interior taste than yours and her clients are all two inches tall.” 

helps you reorganize your collection on lazy sundays. he’s good at holding tiny chairs between his fingers like it’s normal. 

absolutely tries to use calico critters to flirt. sets up a little proposal scene and goes, “look. it’s us. except i’m three inches tall and cuter.” 

itoshi rin

doesn't get it. doesn’t want to get it. but respects it because it makes you happy. 

"... how do you keep track of their names?" and when you answer with 20 generations of backstory he blinks twice and decides not to ask again. 

that being said… the miniatures start growing on him. he lowkey thinks the fox family is cool and once helped you repaint a table. 

"this is a hobby that requires patience. i like that." tries to say it casually but you catch the way he watches you glue down a tiny carpet. 

his love language is building the IKEA-sized critter furniture you order off etsy. he acts grumpy the whole time but hands you the final result like it’s a love letter. 

isagi yoichi

SO supportive. he smiles like a golden retriever every time you show him a new family set. 

“you gave them a garden?! babe that’s so sick!” he crouches down to inspect the tiny vegetables like a proud dad. 

helps you organize your display shelf and keeps suggesting ideas like “what if there was a soccer stadium?” 

actually starts getting into it and names a mouse after himself. “this is lil yoichi. he owns a ramen shop and gives advice to travelers.” 

100% takes photos of your setups and shows them to his teammates like they're his own children. “look what she made. look at the bakery. no, really, zoom in.” 

bachira meguru

FERAL. he thinks the calico critters are alive. like he’s convinced they move at night. 

"this one’s the evil one," he whispers, pointing at the cat with a crooked ear. “she’s plotting something. i can feel it.” 

customizes them with you. paints tattoos on the bears. gives the raccoons glow-in-the-dark eyes. adds googly eyes to the furniture when you’re not looking. 

creates wild stories for them. like you’ll walk in and he’s mid-monologue: “and then gregory, the frog with a criminal past, was like ‘not on my watch.’” 

despite the chaos, he’s extremely gentle with your collection. tucks them in at night. kisses the tiny blanket. calls them your "fuzzy little citizens." 

itoshi sae

he walks in. pauses. "... what are these little dudes?" 

squats down and just stares at your display shelf for a good two minutes like he’s trying to process a different dimension. 

“so you collect them? like… all of them? is there… a calico stock market or something?” 

despite the teasing, he finds it oddly charming. asks a million questions while pretending not to care. "do they have a vet? what’s his name. no reason. just curious." 

secretly buys you a rare calico critter set during a trip abroad and plays it off like it was no big deal. “here. it was on sale or something.” (it was not.) 

kaiser michael

calls them "fluff goblins" the first time he sees them. holds one like it’s going to bite him. 

"this one’s judging me. look at its beady little eyes. it knows too much." 

but he instantly gets competitive. “what do you mean there's a limited edition royal set? why don’t we own it? what kind of empire are we running?” 

makes a whole mafia storyline with them. the bunnies run an underground casino. the dogs are corrupt cops. he’s spiraling. 

pretends to hate them but sets up elaborate scenes when you’re not around. “that’s the critter CEO. he just embezzled $3 million from the bank of rabbit.” 

karasu tabito

you show him your collection and he leans in like: "yo. why is this kind of sick?" 

calls them your “little tax-paying civilians.” watches you build a cafe setup like it’s a netflix episode. 

“this the mouse family? they look rich. can i give them a scandal?” proceeds to create drama that rivals actual soap operas. 

absolutely buys tiny props from the dollar store and says “for the homies” while handing you a plastic teapot. 

draws fake little mugshots for your squirrel triplets. “they got caught shoplifting. trial’s on friday.” 

alexis ness

gasps out loud the first time she sees them. hand over mouth. sparkles in her eyes. 

“oh my goodness… they’re dressed so well. is this a gala theme? is this the mayor’s daughter? you have to introduce me.” 

helps you color-coordinate their outfits like she’s styling a met gala red carpet. "no no, the bunny in lavender sits at the head of the table." 

smiles sweetly while hiding the fact she reorganized your ENTIRE shelf. she even gave them a seating chart. 

makes personalized backstories for each critter like it’s the sims. full names, hobbies, zodiac signs, and love interests included. 

niko ikki

tries to act normal about it. fails immediately. 

“uhhh wow… that’s so many of them. do they live here full-time or…?”  

ends up picking a fox family and getting way too attached. carries the baby fox around in his hoodie pocket for emotional support. 

helps you set up shelves and is super careful not to bump anything. treats your collection like a sacred museum exhibit. 

starts talking to them like they're real. “hey guys. hope you slept well. i brought your owner a snack. please don't bite me.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢