#it’s the first time he’s really left to be the responsible one and he’s not bad at it but he’s so out of depths

[kenmaspuddinghair]

Honorably discharged partially disabled Simon part 5

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

this one ends angsty, but I'll try to get the next (happier) part out soon

It's been a week since Simon's diagnosis and his symptoms have persisted along with a few new ones. His muscles have weakened, you personally can't tell cause he's still strong but he can tell and he gets annoyed about it, his right-hand twitches and shakes often and he has started dropping things more often. His leg is what messes him up the most though, his left leg is fine but his right tense up or randomly twitches resulting in him almost falling. This has resulted in a few incidents, the most recent being the worst.

 You were just finishing up fixing lunch when you heard a loud crash followed by a string of curses, you rushed over to find Simon sitting on the floor, his hand scraped and bleeding, every time before this he had managed to catch himself before he fell and he insisted he was fine and didn't need help, saying “ just walkin, don’ need ‘elp” you immediately started fussing over Simon “oh Simon what happened? I told you, you needed help but no you didn't want to hear it” you started rummaging through cabinets trying to find a cloth and some bandages. Once you found it, you helped Simon up, bringing him to the sink and gently cleaning the wound before you wrapped it up in bandages, the entire time Simon stayed fully silent.

You brought Simon over to the couch making him sit next to you, he knew you wanted answers, and as much as he didn't want to tell you, he wanted to prove he didn't need help, although deep down he knew he needed help he just didn't want to admit it, it's like he expected you to just know, he wasn't planning on telling you now either, but the look on your face broke his heart, it said so much. You were worried, what if Simon fell and couldn't get up, what if he hurt himself even worse than this, what if you weren't there. Simon knew he couldn't keep hurting you, and if it meant he had to swallow his pride for you to not be so worried, he would do that 

“was just washin my hand’ for lunch and when i went to leave, my leg just tensed up, wouldn't move, then well i fell, couldn't catch myself fast enough” Simon always spoke in a soft voice when he was telling you something vulnerable, it only broke your heart more “Oh Simon please just let me help, what if i can't help you, what if-” Simon tried to stop you but you just kept rambling on about the possibilities, Simon let you talk just staring at your eyes not even listening to what you were saying and when you noticed you paused “Simon are you listening?” he smiled slightly “no but your really cute when your worried, and when you ramble” his response only made you huff but before you could go off on him he continued “what can ya do to ‘elp me lovie” you paused “well most things that come to mind i know you wont accept so I'll have to do some research’ you looked him straight in his eyes, smiled tilting you head slightly before added “thank you Simon” his faced immediately flushed bright red, getting worse as you laughed at him, you knew exactly how to fluster him.

The night went on without any other incident, till almost eleven. This was the first night Simon would be sleeping on his own, you'd been staying in his room, sleeping on him the chair to really make sure everything was okay, so you really weren't worried for the night, Simon hadn't shown any extra pain during the night, he did have a bit of trouble sleeping before you were right next to him but you just chalked it up to being in the military for years. He was so confused, every other night he felt fine, yet the one night you're not in the room his leg hurts so bad, it started off as occasional jabbing pain before it became all around throbbing, that's when he knew he needed to go get you. The trip to your room was short but so painful, every step made the pain worse until his entire leg was in burning pain, he could barely tell where he was going his vision getting more and more blurry due to the pain, he tried to feel his way around but his right hand started to feel numb and painfully tingly, by the time he made it to the room it felt like it was spinning and his whole body wanted to give up, you were just a few steps away, you would help you always make things better if only he could make it a few more steps you could help him. 

You woke up to the sound of a loud thump, you looked up to see Simon passed out flat on your floor, you rushed over immediately noticing how hot his body was, you immediately brought him in front of the fan, calling the doctor as you ran to the fridge to grab an ice pack. You kept the ice pack to Simon's head while you waited for the doctor to get there, you were holding his hand begging him to wake up when he slowly woke up looking at you, “I-it hurts, my leg, hurts s’much, make it stop” god his voice hurt you, but you needed to be strong for him “it's gonna be okay Simon, the doctors are coming baby”

tags- @piconico17 @just-lilita @madsdawson @silversfavfics @enfppuff @solazoro @sirbonesly @roastyyytoastyyy @the-disaster-in-waiting @lonjitas @squishytap @gays6968 @sunndust @dreamland08 @sweetpeakarolinaaa @marcysbear @alfiestreacle @bxm-2121@goldyghoul  @itsanemu0101 @wolverineswaifu @crempuffie @ohdrey89 @cucurucho-amargo @avalkyrieofparis @castellomargot @cmbghost @strawberrygato @blueladys-world @goodsoup19 @pinkylouise @creepzeyecandy @tessakate @identity2212 @callmytherapistplease-blog  @witchblossoms @carolb111  @iiriam  @berryjuicyy @bmtillerbabe @stoned-anime-babe @junitries @harrysthiccthighss @lucienofthelakes @urmomsgirlfriend1 @rexythebitch @milanriol @cryingpages

[autumnheartsprice]

Truth or Dare

|Simon Riley x reader, no warnings really, fluff, revealing feelings, mentions of being drunk & drinking|

"I'd rather lick the bathroom floor than kiss the Simon Riley."

After a particularly rough night with the team, it was Soap's bright idea to play the famous Truth or Dare. Which led you and the other 4 men into the common room, whiskey glasses and beer cans left on the table as each person takes turns going against each other.

Soap and Gaz have practically been your girl's girls ever since you joined the team and they are both well aware of your little crush on the not-so-little Lieutenant. They made it their goal to get you closer to him before the night ended, they waited for the drinks to kick in before coming up with their dare.

As your Lieutenant dug around in the kitchen to find another whiskey bottle, the chatter continued as Soap 'thought' of a dare for you, oh he fully knew what he was going to say for the past 3 rounds. "Aye dare ye to kiss L.T. when he comes back in." He says with his eyebrows raised before taking another swig of whiskey.

You almost spit out your drink at the sudden change of dare, you'd smack him if he was any closer. You checked around, L.T. was still in the kitchen that you were aware of, at least he wouldn't have to hear about this. "I'd rather lick the bathroom floor than kiss the Simon Riley."

Gaz begins to laugh before the room is silenced with a loud slam of a glass bottle against the counter, before heavy footsteps fade away down the hallway with the slam of a door.

You knew you fucked up. You've been hanging around your L.T. and pulling the Soap tactic until he actually started enjoying your presence. He would beg ask for you to join him in the gym early in the mornings where he could also spot you - he'd be damned if he let anybody else touch what's his. But you figured it was best, denying your feelings towards your Superior was what was for the best.. maybe not.

You knew him by now that whenever he was pissed, he'd spend hours in his room cleaning his guns and knives until he passed out in his chair. The next morning, you reach his door and sigh before knocking, you two created a special knock over time to aware each other it was just the other instead of having to use words each time, words were for losers. Even after you knock, you don't get a response or even hear him shifting in his room but you smell his freshly-lit cigarette out of his window even though he knows Price will get on him for it if he finds out again.

"C'mon Lieutenant, please? Just wanna talk to you for a little bit." You plead, almost giving him puppy dog eyes through the door. "We don't have to talk if that's what you prefer.. I want to just sit with you." Finally, you almost want to celebrate your victory when you hear his chair roll back as he starts to stand up and walk to the door. You stand back but notice it seems to take a while for him to open his door as if he was hesitating.

His door slowly opens, a stronger smell of his classic cigarettes filling your senses. He lets go of the doorknob and walks back to his seat silently, refusing to make eye contact with you but you know it's a gesture of him letting you in anyway.

You nervously sit at the edge of his bed and admire him cleaning his collection of knives and sharpening them. You choose to sit in silence for a little bit - your usual routine but the air feels too tense. "Is it something someone said?"

He scoffs, pathetically laughs and gives you the answer you need. The room sits silent for a few more moments until he hears the rustling behind him which he assumes is you pulling out your phone. You open your messages and open the group chat with Soap and Gaz, scrolling up until you reach the first text from Gaz of him talking about what you revealed on one drunk night.

Dish Soap: Can't believe our little bird found the man of her dreams

You: Istg if you don't shut the hell up

Gaz: Says the one fighting a hangover right now

Gaz: Big bad L.T. caught your interest, huh?

Dish Soap: Ghost would break her in half

The rest is just chatter that filled the chat over time, occasional sneaky pics of Ghost to get you to swoon over him even more. You didn't care what he decided to read after that, or if he even cared at this point but he deserved to see it. Sliding your phone onto his desk next to him, he ignored it until he couldn't resist it anymore. Reading where you purposely left it at, he stares at it for wayyyy too long until you see his thumb scroll up a little bit before skimming the rest of the texts.

"I was half out of it last night and didn't want you to know about my little thing, but figured you should know after what I said.. I don't care how you decide to react to it but I didn't know a better way to prove to you that I didn't mean it." You mutter. Looking down to play with your thumbs, you hardly notice as he turns his chair around to look at you.

He places a firm hand on your chin and forces you to look up at him. After basically a staring contest, "Tell me you mean it and that you want this." He grumbles, voice raspy like he hasn't been out of his room since to even get a drink of water.

"Ghost, I mean-"

"Simon."

You pause at his interruption, eyes wide but he doesn't move his position.

"Simon.. I mean it.. but if you'd rather ignore it then-" He bunches his mask above his nose before pressing his unchapped lips roughly against yours, claiming your lips as he pushes you back against his bed until he's hovering over you. "I want this.. I want you."

He groans into your mouth before slipping his tongue in your mouth to explore your warm taste. Until the point that drool drips from his chin when he pulls away, he grumbles "I hope your hangover sucks." While trying to catch his breath. A small smile forms at the corners of your lips as he runs a grounding hand into your hair. "Oh, it absolutely does so I hope you're happy."

He gives you some ibuprofen to help your lasting headache before laying down with you - he still keeps a respectable distance as he doesn't know how far to go but he holds one of your hands in his. "Shouldn't you finish your cleaning?"

"Got better things to worry about." Before he presses a kiss against the back of your hand that remains interlocked with his.

[accidentcache]

Late night confession with keigo

confession prompt list + i wrote half of this on my laptop and the other on my phone can u tell

every monday, tuesday and friday you meet with keigo and share an order of chicken skewers on the roof of the agency. it started out as his guilty pleasure, it's a cheap stand just a block away-- the meat isn't nearly as good as the usual place he gets chicken from; but it's close and they're fast. fast enough that he can dip down and grab an order and be back and within ear's reach in case he was needed for something.

ever since you caught him months ago, you've been indulging him in this little activity-- eating about four skewers as you watch the sun dip below the skyline of the city. the two of you talk (keigo more than you, but you're starting to open up more) and by the time the sun is down, it's the end of your shift and you depart to clock out for the day.

keigo is nothing but sweet on you. everyone in the agency knows it, they can see it. it's obvious-- you're his favorite.

you weren't always on his radar. when you started as just a lowly intern, he barely saw you at first-- literally and figuratively. he was just a busy guy and you were trying to keep up with him.

but keigo has come to admire your dedication. years you've spent at his agency, promotion after promotion-- until you landed the position as his personal assistant. if he didn't notice you before, he definetly paid attention to you then.

and from that moment on, to be honest.

he's paid attention to the little quirks you have that have become so painfully obvious to him. how you lick your thumb every fifth sheet on papers that you’re filing, how you take one half ‘n half and one french vanilla creamer serving while making your coffee in the break room in the morning. you never use the microwave. you always hand him a blue pen first instead of a black one.

you always sit on the left side of the couch in his office, and you always take your hair down the moment you’re clocked out for the night.

even nights like this— friday, the city is buzzing with drunk patrons and night life; he can’t help but take looks at you. you were scheduled a double today, he could tell you were practically buzzing when he met you out in the usual spot.

he wonders why you haven’t called him out about staring at you for as much as he has been tonight. are you really that exhausted? should he have sent you home earlier when things were slower and didn’t need you to stick around?

the slouch of your spine says yes. you lean back onto a palm, sliding another bite of chicken off the stick with your teeth before you’re chewing again, zoned out on the skyline.

it’s late. you should be in bed, it’s going on 11:30 and keigo knows both of you have an early morning of interviews and meetings ahead of you. keigo doesn’t think you’d make it home if you drove yourself and wonders if he should offer to fly you to your apartment.

but for some reason— with as busy and hectic and chaotic as his life is— he finds himself breathing so easily. his head feels empty in such a good way, floating above the crowds without even using his wings.

something about this, right now— you— feels right.

“i think i like you,” his mouth moves and forms syllables before his brain can function and stop them.

a small chuckle leaves your lips, and your head tilts towards him. “i like you too,” you reply— though yours isn’t a confession. at least not like his. “i would hope so, i am your assistant.”

keigo stiffens ever so slightly. his grip tightens on the cheap styrofoam container that your shared late night snack came in, and his eyes finally dart away from your form. “not like that,” he mutters.

your brows scrunch together minutely, and your lips part with words on the tip of your tongue. you find yourself unable to really say anything in response.

“i think i… like you,” he repeats, lower this time. quieter, but more firm. sincere and almost embarrassed.

for the first time, you find yourself stuttering in front of him.

you’ve always been good with words. you know exactly what to say and when to say things, you’ve spoken on his behalf at so many meetings and at broadcasts. you’ve never shown the country that you’re capable of shaking in your boots.

keigo’s never seen you look so startled before. “i’m sorry,” he’s immediately apologizing, his expression melting to one of distraught embarrassment. “that was unprofessional of me, i’m your boss; i should’ve known better—“

your head dips down to look at the watch on your wrist. your cheeks are warm in the slight glow from the tiny screen and keigo feels a tiny flutter in his chest.

“i clock out in seven minutes.”

keigo’s eyebrows knit together. “you’re not going to acknowledge my apology?”

your head tilts, a sigh leaving your mouth in response. you yawn— but keigo can tell that it’s forced. he feels like his blood pumps faster through his veins. is this what it feels like to be rejected? is this what happens when you confess and get turned down?

“i might need a ride home,” you say after a beat, stretching your limbs in a way that keigo is all too late to pick up on as a hint. he can only stare at you, his expression confused, eyebrows drawn so tightly together you would think they’ve connected by now.

you stare back at him. a silent challenge is offered.

do you want to talk this out?

five minutes now.

both of you continue to stare at each other, keigo still looks somewhat confused. you guess you’ll have to spell it out for him in another subtle way.

“can you fly me home, hawks? i think i’m too tired to drive.”

© accidentcache do not repost, translate or alter my work without permission. all rights reserved.

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

8: PAINTBALL, PUNS AND PLANS

Previous chapter < MASTERLIST > Next chapter (pending)

Summary: A bachelorette party turns into a chaotic day of paintball, bruises, and a little too much fun. By the time dinner rolls around, exhaustion and cocktails lead to meddling friends taking matters into their own hands— by texting your "mystery boyfriend" without your knowledge. When Bucky actually shows up, the girls are left wondering: is he really your secret boyfriend, or have they just summoned The Winter Soldier to a bridal party?

Warnings: Mild swearing, alcohol use, meddling friends, and one very skeptical bridesmaid, fluff, humor, and a slightly tipsy reader.

Word Count: 3500

“I TEXTED YOU. YOU DIDN’T REPLY.”

“DID YOU PRESS SEND?”

You’d been up since the ass crack of dawn. When it came to your friends, you couldn’t say no. Everything had to be perfect for them. Although, setting up flags on a paintball battlefield wasn’t how you’d imagined spending the morning of Hanna and Aditi’s bachelorette party, but it was what they wanted— a day of adrenaline, followed by a night of indulgence— so you had obliged.

By the time you’d finished hanging up the flags, checking the boundaries of the field and making sure the bridesmaids had their protective gear, you were already feeling a little worse for wear. It hadn’t helped that you’d not gone to bed until 2am, checking and rechecking all the details of the plan. Luckily Hanna and Aditi’s excitement was infectious and you found yourself getting a second wind as you donned your jumpsuit and grabbed a paintball rifle.

The next few hours were sheer chaos. Camille, Aditi’s coworker, had taken the game far too seriously, barking out orders to incomprehensible strategies like she was leading a tactical unit. She was the chief resident on Aditi’s residency program. When you had first met her you had got the impression that she didn’t like you. Now you were convinced, since she targeted you almost exclusively. Her shots were relentless and you swore she was out for blood.

“Damn, Camille,” you called out, ducking behind a bunker after another near miss. “You know this isn’t actually a life or death scenario, right?”

Her response was a cheeky grin and another well-aimed shot that exploded right next to your head, splatting yellow paint across the side of your face and in your hair. You groaned and Hanna dived behind the bunker beside you to save herself from Aditi’s fire. Luckily, her poor aim compensated for Camille’s sharpshooter skills.

“You okay?” Hanna asked.

“Peachy,” you sniped, glad to have the spritely woman on your side.

Hanna jumped up and started firing in the direction of her bride and teammates, allowing the two of you to make a getaway.

“Hey!” Aditi yelled. “You’re supposed to be my bride! Isn’t there supposed to be some loyalty?”

“Not in this wedding!” Hanna hollered, peeking out just long enough to fire at Camille— and miss. Her paintball went wide, hitting Aditi right in the chest.

Aditi gasped dramatically, clutching her heart and falling to the floor like she’d been mortally wounded. “You’re supposed to be on my team! Divorce!” she shrieked, doubling over in mock betrayal.

“At least wait til we’re actually married!” Hanna quipped, laughing so hard she had to lean against the tree for support.

Your laughter joined theirs until another paintball hit your hip— courtesy of Camille, who clearly had no sense of humor. “Retribution!” she yelled joyfully, waving all the flags she had aggressively claimed for their team.

“Alright, that’s it,” you muttered under your breath, plotting your revenge. A few moments later, you managed to circle around behind her and fired three perfectly aimed shots, covering her back in pink splatters. Unfortunately Hanna and Aditi got caught in the crossfire.

Camille whipped around, stunned. “Are you kidding me?”

“Oops,” you said sweetly.

The rest of the bridesmaids gathered around chuckling, all quite pleased to see Camille get a taste of her own medicine. Hanna and Aditi were in stitches when they saw Camille’s scowl.

 “You’ve really got it out for us today, don’t you?” Hanna teased later, still wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you two,” you retorted before dropping your voices so only the brides could hear. “Camille, though? Totally on purpose.”

By the time dinner rolled around, you were sore and dead on your feet. Your arms were covered in round bruises and your hair still had the remnants of dried paint in it. But there was no denying it, you’d had fun. The restaurant and lounge was walking distance from the paintball field and the party had stripped out of the coveralls trudged over in cocktail dresses. The restaurant lounge was cozy and as evening fell, it was dimly lit, providing a sense of comfort and warmth.

The food being served was exquisite, the multiple courses providing variety and flavor. And the cocktails were good— dangerously so— and by the third round, your exhaustion had finally caught up with you. But not quite enough to loosen your lips.

“Alright missy, spill,” Hanna demanded, leaning towards you. “When are we going to meet this mystery man of yours?”

“Yeah,” Aditi chimed in, her glass of sangria swaying slightly in her hand. “You’ve been suspiciously vague about him.”

You gave them a small smile and feigned extreme interest in your own drink to avoid their inquisitive gazes. “You’ll meet him at the wedding,” you said airily. “He’s… busy.”

“Too busy for you?” Hanna asked, raising an eyebrow.

Camille leaned back in her chair, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “You know, when I met Gabriel, I used to think he was too busy for me. I mean surgical residency is no joke, right? But he’d show up at the randomest times— once, he even surprised me at 2am in the middle of my double shift with coffee and croissants.”

Hanna’s work friend, Swan, chimed in. “Same with me and Jung. He worked such crazy hours at the firm when we first started dating, but we always made an effort to never let over a week go by without seeing each other.” She shot you a pointed look. “You just know when someone’s serious.”

“Or fake,” Camille muttered under her breath, not quite quiet enough for you to miss it.

You scowled, rubbing your nose angrily. “He’s not fake.” Their stories had started making you uncomfortable until your guilt was overcome by outrage.

But Camille wasn’t about to let up. “I’ve heard a lot of stories about these secret boyfriends,” she smiled smugly. “And they’re usually so conveniently unavailable and, well… imaginary.”

“He looks awfully handsome,” Swan piped up in rescue from across the table. “Your Insta posts look pretty perfect.” 

You hoped your blush would be attributed to your mildly inebriated state. “He’s pretty photogenic, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty easy to photoshop yourself into photos these days.”

“Shut it, Cami!” Aditi hissed as she spotted at your reddening expression and mistaking it for anger rather than embarrassment.

“Bucky is real,” you said with gritted teeth.

“Prove it,” Camille challenged with a saccharine smile.

“Well he’s coming to the wedding, so we can all meet him there!” Hanna elbowed Camille roughly under the table. “You can’t just hoard him forever. He must be judged; can’t just have our girl dating any random guy.”

You rolled your eyes, but gave her an appreciative smile. It was good to know they truly cared for you.

Aditi leaned forwards, her expression softening. “Seriously though, we’re just teasing. It’s okay if you don’t want us to meet him. But we just want to know that you’re okay.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, your guilt flaring once again and tears crept into your eyes. And suddenly your defenses crumbled slightly. The alcohol and the exhaustion from the day catching up with you. Hanna and Aditi looked horrified but you waved them off. “I’m fine, it’s just been… a lot. Setting up all of this, trying to make sure everything’s perfect for you two— I’m just tired.”

Everyone fell silent for a moment, your vulnerability catching them off guard. Camille had the decency to look ashamed. Hanna, on the other hand, threw her arms around you and pressed a kiss on your cheek. “We appreciate you so much. You know you didn’t have to do all this alone, right?”

Aditi nodded, looking just as concerned as her fiancé. “You’re the best,” she said, squeezing your arm gently.

“And maybe he’ll surprise us all at the wedding,” Hanna smiled.

“Maybe,” you muttered, leaning back against the cushioned couches of the lounge. Your eyelids grew heavier and you didn’t know who had removed your glass of wine from your hand. The sound of everyone’s voices felt more and more distant and before you knew it your head was resting against the back of the couch.

Just a few moments to rest your eyes, you thought. But those moments turned to minutes and you were sound asleep. When Aditi and Camille noticed you’d drifted off, they exchanged mischievous glances.

“She out?” Aditi asked Camille, who nodded. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Way ahead of you.” Camille had already reached across the table to grab your phone. She swiped your screen to life. She held your phone in front of your face and grinned at how easily the lock screen disappeared.

Aditi whispered. “She’s gonna kill us for this.”

“What’re you doing?” Hanna asked, her eyes narrowing.

“Texting the mystery man,” Camille smirked.

“Camille!” Hanna hissed, reaching out to stop her, but failing.

Camille waved her off with a mischievous smile. “Relax, I’m doing her a favor. She’s clearly exhausted. If this guy’s worth a pinch of salt, he’ll come get her.”

She opened your messages and scrolled down. “What’s his name?”

“Bucky,” Aditi offered readily.

“Now, what do we say?” Camille smirked at the crowd.

“It needs to be convincing, but not too much,” Swan suggested.

Aditi scrunched up her mouth and tapped her lips. “Something simple, like, ‘Can you come pick me up? I’m too drunk to drive.’”

“Boring,” Camille whined and rolled her eyes. “We need to go big.” She started typing. Hey lover, your girlfriend misses you so muc-

Aditi grabbed the phone from Camille mid sentence. “No way. Subtle works better. She’s the least flirty person you’ll ever meet. He’s gonna know something is up if we get carried away.”

“Fine,” Camille said with mock exasperation and snatched the phone back from Aditi. She typed quickly, her thumbs flying across the keyboard.

“Can you come pick me up? I’m too drunk to drive.”

She dropped a pin of your location for good measure.

“Oh my God, Camille!” Hanna gasped. “You could have let us proofread it!”

Aditi covered her mouth to stifle a laugh to avoid waking you. “What if he doesn’t come? Or worse, what if he does?”

Camille smirked. “Oh he’ll come. Most men love to play the hero, they can’t resist a damsel in distress. And if he doesn’t, well... we’ll have our answer about him, won’t we?”

Everyone sat back in the wake of what they’d just done, the phone in the center of the table.

“Do you think it’s really him?” Swan asked.

Aditi frowned at her. “What do you mean?”

“The guy in the photos.”

“She called him Bucky.”

“Yeah, Bucky Barnes. You know, The Winter Soldier.”

Aditi and Hanna looked at each other with matching looks of concern. Camille on the other hand pulled out her phone and did a quick google search. Comparing the images to your instagram. “Yeah, I guess they look kinda similar, but I’m not convinced. Didn’t think Y/N would be into the bad boys.”

“Isn’t he a killer?” Swan whispered.

“I thought he was Captain America’s best friend.”

“Or, he’s made up.”

“She’s texting with someone called Bucky.”

Their debate was interrupted by your phone buzzing and the group crowded around your screen.

10:45 PM - Bucky: On my way. Be there in 15.

The chatter in the lounge faltered when Bucky appeared in the doorway, only for a moment before a wave of excitement spread across the group.

“Oh my God,” Camille whispered, gripping Aditi’s arm so tightly that Aditi winced. “He’s gorgeous.”

“Is that him?” Hanna murmured.

“Hellooo, Winter Soldier,” Swan chimed, earning a round of laughter.

Bucky’s broad frame filled the doorway, his striking presence commanding attention. He glanced around the room, taking in the surroundings. His expression remained neutral despite the wariness he felt. His sharp eyes flitted past the bachelorette group until they landed on you— now curled up on the couch, blissfully unaware of the commotion your ‘boyfriend’ had caused.

A familiar crease appeared between his eyebrows as he took in the scene. He wasn’t thrilled to be there, you had not prepared him for this eventuality but he couldn’t exactly say no to a plea for help. But as he gazed at your sleeping form, his gaze softened, betraying a quiet fondness.

He had barely had time to take a step towards you when he was intercepted by Camille, like a predator stalking its prey.

“You must be Bucky,” she said, her voice practically dripping with sugar. She hooked her hand through his arm as she looked up at him with a flirtatious tilt of her head. “Wow, I see why she’s not been keen to share.”

Bucky hesitated, his eyes flicking down to her hand before he offered a polite but tight smile. “Nice to meet you,” he said, stepping back just enough to create a sliver of space between them.

Unfortunately Camille wasn’t one to give up easily. She hadn’t become chief resident by being shy about her goals. She slid her fingers up to his bicep, giving it an appreciative squeeze. “Wow, Bucky, do you, like, workout every day? Because like… wow.”

Behind her, Aditi and Hanna exchanged looks, half amused, half exasperated and came to Bucky’s rescue. “Sorry about Camille. She’s…”

“I’m Hanna, this is Aditi. It’s nice to meet you, Bucky.” Bucky shook hands with the brides and waved to the other women.

“So, umm, I guess I’m here to pick up… Sleeping Beauty over there.” He nodded his head towards you, making the group burst into a fit of giggles, wolf whistles and whoops.

“Can’t believe she’s been hiding him from us,” Swan shook her head.

Camille pulled out her phone, calling Bucky’s name as she snapped a photo. She was momentarily stunned as he evaded further opportunity for interrogation. He slipped past the ogling women and crouched down at the couch beside you. He put his hand on your arm but his mouth froze before he had a chance to call your name as he spotted the bruises on your skin. Gently he grazed his fingers over the darkened patches, his face etched with concern. But rather than asking the other women what had happened, he called your name softly. “Hey, Princess.”

You stirred, blinking groggily. It took a moment for your sleep and alcohol addled mind to focus on the man in front of you. When you recognized Bucky, a sleepy smile spread across your face. “Bucky! Hi, Bucky!”

He chuckled under his breath, feeling glad that you didn’t seem upset. “Hi. Let’s get you home, yeah?”

Before he had the chance to help you up, you noticed everyone’s attention on you. You threw your arms around his neck. “Everyone, this is my boyfriend, Bucky!” you announced proudly in a slurred voice.

The girls cheered with a chorus of ‘awws’. Hanna buried her face in her hands, shaking with suppressed giggles. Aditi whispered to her, “She’s gonna hate us for this later.”

“Nice to meet you all,” he said dryly.

Camille, however, was still skeptical. “So boyfriend, huh?” she interjected with a smirk.

“Yeah,” you pouted and Bucky’s eyes widened, worried about what you were about to say in your current state. 

“Look how handsome he is!” you declared. “Boy-friend.”

The group dissolved into another round of laughter.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, glancing down at you with a faint smirk. “That’s me,” he said dryly, wrapping his arm around your teetering form. “Handsome guy with the sleepy girlfriend.”

“Guess you’re officially off the market, Y/N.”

“Completely,” Bucky said firmly and politely. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, Sleeping Beauty here needs some actual beauty rest.”

“Hey,” you pouted. “I’m not sleepy.”

“You literally fell asleep in a room full of people,” he replied, smirking with amusement. “Let’s get you home before you try and prove something else.”

“Wait, you’re leaving already? Come on! We haven’t heard a single embarrassing story!” Aditi called after the two of you.

“I’ll be sure to remind her of this one tomorrow,” he said, glancing down at you as you leaned into his side.

“You’re the best, Bucky,” you murmured sleepily, letting him guide you out.

He rolled his eyes fondly. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

He walked you out, ignoring the cacophony of shouts behind you.

Bucky opened the passenger door for you to get in. “Come on, Princess. In you get.”

“They love you, you know,” you slurred, your words coming out in an exaggerated whisper.

He snorted. “Yeah, I noticed. Pretty sure Camille was ready to propose back there.”

“Ugh,” you groaned, flopping back against the seat. “She was a little handsy, huh?”

Bucky smirked, leaning down to buckle you in. “A little?” he repeated dryly. “She actually asked for my workout routine. And I’m not sure she was referring to the gym.”

“She’s not your type, though,” you mumbled, your eyelids fluttering closed.

“And what exactly is my type?” he asked as he straightened up.

“Mmm... me,” you declared, the word coming out more triumphant than you intended.

Bucky froze mid-motion, his eyebrows shooting up. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “Why else would you be here?”

Bucky shook his head and closed the passenger door, circling around to the driver’s side. He slid into the driver’s seat and glanced over at you, clearly trying to fight sleep.

“Didn’t realize I’d be meeting everyone tonight,” he teased, starting the engine. “You sure know how to keep things interesting.”

“Gotta keep you on your toes, Barnes.”

Bucky chuckled, the warm sound echoing through the car. “Yeah, you’re doing a great job of that.”

The ride was silent, the hum of the car engine pulling you towards slumber.

“Bucky,” you murmured.

“Yeah?”

“You didn’t have to come all the way out here, you know?”

He glanced over at you, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Someone had to rescue you from the wolves back there.”

You giggled at that, your laugh fading into a content sigh. “Thank you, you’re so… good.”

Bucky stared at the road ahead of him, his grip on the wheel tightening as he took in your words. Good. Not a word he would have used to describe himself, but somehow he didn’t mind it coming from you.

“Get some sleep, Princess,” he said softly, more to fill the quiet than anything else.

For a moment, he let himself steal a glance at you, before turning back to the dimly lit road. And even though he wouldn’t admit it to himself just yet, a strange warmth was blooming in his chest— something he wasn’t ready to name.

The next morning, you woke up with a groan. Your head throbbed lightly. Thank God for Sundays, you thought. Picking up your phone, you shielded your eyes against the brightness of the screen, cursing about how it hurt your eyes. You hadn’t had that much to drink, had you?

Your phone buzzed and a message notification popped up at the top of the screen from your group chat: Power of 3.

10:15 AM - Hanna: Mystery boyfriend: No longer a mystery!

You sighed and rolled over, groaning into your pillow.

10:16 AM - Aditi: Can’t believe you’ve been hiding him. I don’t bat for his side, but I might consider changing teams for him.

10:16 AM - Aditi: Don’t tell Hanna I said that.

10:16 AM - Hanna: I can read this, you know!

10:17 AM - Aditi: Have you seen Camille’s Instagram yet?

10:17 AM - You: No… should I be scared?

You winced at Aditi’s message, but curiosity got the best of you. You opened your Instagram and tapped on Camille’s profile to be hit with a photo of Camille with a huge smile on her face, draped over an incredibly uncomfortable looking Bucky sporting a stiff smile.

The caption read “@charmedbynature sleeping on the job.”

You felt your stomach twisting as you watched her clinging to him. He clearly wasn’t doing anything wrong and the man looked like he’d rather be a thousand miles away. But seeing Camille’s beautiful smile next to him sparked a wave of something unfamiliar.

10:18 AM - Hanna: You’d better watch out because she looks like she’ll race you to the altar for that one.

You tapped off the picture and back to your messages. He hadn’t even bothered to text you to see if you were okay. Why did you even care? You silenced your phone and rolled out of bed. Maybe a run would help you shed this feeling. 

As you opened your front door, your eyes landed on the whiteboard hanging on it.

“YOU MADE IT HOME! GOOD JOB, SLEEPING BEAUTY.”

Your irritation faded instantly, replaced by a reluctant smile. Grabbing your phone, you snapped a quick photo of the message before erasing it. After a moment's thought, you wrote back:

“THANKS FOR THE RESCUE, PRINCE CHARMING.”

Previous chapter < MASTERLIST > Next chapter (pending)

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Posting schedule will be Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays around 2.30pm EST / 11.30am PST / 7.30pm BST

[jabbasyogainstructor]

Obi-Wan does mention her in a pretty meaningful way on the Kenobi series. Twice. He doesn’t say her name, but he’s talking to Leia both times, so he can’t say her name. He messes up the fake name for Leia and says “we lost her mother a while back, and sometimes when I look at Luna (fake Leia name), it’s like I’m looking at her.” Leia immediately clocks that Kenobi must have known her parents, and she questions him about it repeatedly later on. It’s an emotional bit, I felt Padme in that moment. He also vividly describes the personality traits she gets from both biological parents, specifically saying “those are traits you get from your mother.” When Bail and Breha say “I know who she’s like,” in the very first episode, talking about Leia’s stubbornness, they also mean Padme. They don’t mean each other or Anakin. Breha never met Anakin, but she spent a lot of time with Padme. It’s mentioned in all 3 novels written about Padme’s time as queen and senator from the POVs of several handmaidens and Padme herself: Queen’s Hope, Queen’s Peril, and Queen’s Shadow, all by EK Johnson. Padme visited and stayed for extended periods of time on Alderaan with Bail and Breha Organa. Go back and watch Kenobi again, Padme can’t force ghost, but she absolutely haunts that show, as hard as Anakin does. Kenobi feels he failed them both and is still failing to protect their children. Yes, it’s the most referenced she’s been in a while, but for the original trilogy, she didn’t have a name or backstory yet.

Also she was a full on character in the Clone Wars cartoon with her own episodes starting in season 1 and lasting until the end. Not just the middle and not just the love triangle. She had entire episodes devoted to her convincing independent and separatist worlds what the republic could do for them. Anakin and Obi-Wan weren’t even in two of those clone wars episodes. Tales of the Jedi, the funeral episode was almost entirely about her, we didn’t need her name spoken there. The point was that Ahsoka was so determined to pay her respects to this woman that she almost got caught.

I even got the impression that ObiWan focused so hard on Luke because he saw him as Anakin 2.0, a Skywalker padawan he would do right by this time. And if Leia was raised in a palace by the Queen and Senator for Alderaan, he knew exactly who she would become: Padme reborn, and I don’t think he could face that one. Obi-Wan raised Anakin, treated him like a brother, and then he had to kill him (or so he thought.) and he stopped Anakin only to have Padme die in front of him anyway. I mean, Obi-Wan probably sat in his Tattooine hermit cave and just focused on every person he had ever cared for and failed to protect, from Qui-Gon, to Satine, Anakin and Padme, every Jedi he’d ever called a friend, and the entire Republic itself. He refused initially to help a kidnapped 10 year old Leia because he has to watch “the boy” whose name he can’t seem to say because he knows he’s not Anakin and he knows he’s not NOT Anakin. “The girl” who both is and isn’t Padme in his mind, was their responsibility. Padme most definitely haunts the Obi-Wan Kenobi series if nothing else in the franchise.

Yes, Padme needs to be meaningfully named in future projects, but she is consistently referred to in the narrative. She’s not tuned out, people speak about her indirectly all the time. They refuse to say her name possibly because it seems to bring down the wrath of Vader. (I am theorizing that a lot of people who said her name around the time of her death got a red lightsaber height reduction. He’s pretty messed up about it.) I assume there’s lots of rumors about her: she put the emperor on the throne and then turned on him, who was the father of her baby, the other senator who was her rumored lover or one of the two Jedi who never left her side? Why is she the only senator who died? How did she die? Did she really die? There’s a more jokey version of this out there, that she’s a boogeyman on Geonosis, but I would bet that she is remembered, and respected and even feared in many places. In the Star Wars comics, she is mentioned constantly, her visage reflected in Naboo art through statues and stained glass windows, but none of that is canon anymore. Where Leia visits Naboo and looks at her and remembers that fuzzy baby memory or inherited a lot of her clothes. All Leia focused. But they were there.

There’s other tragic events people seem to prefer not to mention, Alderaan for instance. Jedi seems to be an actual banned word, Din Djarin had never even heard it before. She’s mentioned less, but she’s also been dead for years. How often do you mention long dead politicians in your everyday life? Unlike Anakin who showed up consistently in nearly every video game, movie and show, whether as himself or Darth Vader, she is actually dead. Memories of people fade, their legacies fade. Where’s Jar Jar been? He was a war hero, and he was her other senator rep for Naboo. He faded into obscurity as well, and he’s probably still alive. By the time of the mandalorian, she’s been gone at least 30 years. I don’t know in this current canon if Luke or Leia even know who their mother is yet (in legends, Luke went looking but never found her, and there are a few books relating to the movie canon that mention Leia being outed as Vader’s daughter to the New Republic, but I don’t know if they’re actually canon as of today) and I assumed that it was going to be revealed dramatically somewhere in the future.

I do agree with you that for marketing purposes, the women of star wars are woefully underrepresented. She should absolutely be on the RotS poster. They seem to still be working on the premise of “space and it has war in the title so these are boy toys.” My mother had to work to find Princess Leia merchandise for me when I was a kid, and this was before the prequels. I had a Princess Leia figurine in the gold bikini, got it for my birthday. I don’t think think that was supposed to be marketed towards 8 year old me, but it was all she could find. I used to work big box retail, so sometimes after my shift I’d go look in the toy aisle and there’s so many toys of the male characters, ones I didn’t know had names. And for like every 30 male characters, there’s one Princess Leia in the mix, no Padme/Amidala or Ahsoka or Jyn. Sometimes there’s a few Reys (they seem determined to push her more, maybe because she has no feminine dress code like most of the others do), but no Rose Tico and I’ve never seen an older, sequel trilogy Leia. Mon Mothma is non existent. Male Star Wars fans do nothing to help this situation, I have seen many claiming Leia, Ahsoka and Rey are overrated, never mind what they say about the others. (I have firmly come to believe that many of the most toxic Star Wars fans are actually just fans of complaining and this is a very convenient vehicle to project their own issues onto.)

Carrie Fisher used to complain that George Lucas owned her image, and she thought her face was everywhere. I don’t know if Princess Leia merch declined over time or if she had it better than she ever knew. Because it’s never been enough for me.

There’s rumors that Natalie Portman may return in a future season of Ahsoka or Obi-Wan, or some third and as of yet unnamed thing. Natalie herself said she would love to come back, because she feels Padme’s story isn’t finished.

You’re not wrong, she’s under-represented. But she’s never been eliminated.

No one with any kind of creative or executive power over the Star Wars franchise cares about Padme Amidala except George Lucas, and even he decided her story and her thoughts and her work weren't worth keeping in Revenge in the Sith in the end.

For the past 20 years she's been a pawn, a narrative reason to explain Anakin's fall. She gets little to no merchandise and only sparing attention in the books and comics. The Clone Wars gives her a couple of cool Senate scenes in the middle seasons and then refuses to do much with her otherwise except put her in a convoluted, contrived love triangle to showcase Anakin's possessiveness. She's nowhere to be found or mentioned in Obi-Wan despite being one of his closest friends. Ahsoka went to her funeral but still never spoke her name. Luke and Leia never mention their mother in the sequels. Andor never brings her up despite revolving around the birth of the Rebellion, focusing on the ways people resist against fascist governments, and co-starring one of Padme's best friends. It's incredibly frustrating.

She's a ghost, she's haunting the narrative, she's a core facilitator of Lucas's thematic and political messaging, but Disney will never speak her name or acknowledge her importance or do ANYTHING with her. They won't even put her on the damn ROTS 20th anniversary posters! What will it take for people to finally acknowledge Padme and give her ANY kind of respect and narrative spotlight?

[adelliet]

Joel Miller X f!reader

IN CONTROL

Summary: Joel comes back home really pissed, not even telling you why. You decided to tease him a bit and make him loosen up a bit, which worked, but does he deserved it?

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, strong language, dom! Reader (at the beginning), sub! Joel, handjob, fingering, mutual masturbation, eye contact sex, unprotected sex ( p i v ), lowkey aftercare

A/n: Hey! I apologize if some phrases or parts aren’t grammatically correct or don’t make sense, English isn’t my native language! <3 Anyway, enjoy!

You sensed it the moment his foot stepped into the house. He was mad. But not the usual kind of mad—where he explodes, complains about what pissed him off, then calms down and laughs again. No, this was different.

You greeted him softly, trying to be kind, but you didn’t get an answer. Just a barely audible grunt. This is gonna be challenging.

Sitting in the kitchen, sipping your coffee, you watched as Joel stomped angrily toward the couch and threw himself onto it. He didn’t even look at you, not even a quick glance. Nothing.

“Do you want a coffee? Or tea, or something?” Your voice was gentle, sweet, coaxing him to talk, to face you.

“No.”

No? His tone was cold, sharp, almost indignant—and he didn’t even say thank you? You understood that when he was angry, he wasn’t in the mood to act all soft and sweet, but basic manners shouldn’t require any effort.

Even though it frustrated you, you refused to let it ruin your mood.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” you asked, sitting beside him, your eyebrows furrowed as you gave him your best puppy-dog eyes.

“Nothin’.” His response was flat, his gaze never meeting your concerned face.

You took a deep breath, trying not to snap and instead keep yourself calm. Fine. You can play this game too.

“Alrigh’, I’m gonna take a shower,” you informed him, getting up from the couch and heading straight to the bathroom. You didnt even care if he was looking at you or not. You decided to let him cool down a bit by giving him some space alone.

After your shower, you stepped out, and it didn’t take long to realize that there were no towels left. Right. You had washed them all today. Well, at least this would make Joel think about something other than his anger.

“Joel! Could you bring me a towel, please?” you called out, your voice still sweet. You hoped he heard you, because you really didn’t feel like repeating yourself.

While waiting, you spent the time grooming yourself in the mirror, tying your hair up into a cute ponytail.

Suddenly, the door opened, and there he was, a massive man standing in the doorway, completely filling the frame.

You looked up at him, smiling as you took the towel from his hands, lipsyncing a silent ‘thank you’ in return.

Joel froze for a moment, clearly stunned, his eyes locked onto your naked, wet body. He looked mesmerized, but after a second, he cleared his throat, turned around, and without a single word he left, shutting the door behind him.

You couldn’t help but grin. He wasn’t exactly subtle about the obsession he had for you. You knew he was probably replaying the image of you naked over and over again, acting like he hadn’t seen you naked a hundred times before. Still, it was cute.

After wrapping yourself in a towel, you stepped out of the bathroom, fresh and clean.

“I’m going to lie down, I’m pretty tired,” you said before heading upstairs and disappearing from Joel’s sight.

You grabbed the first shirt you could find, not so coincidentally, Joel’s dark brown one, and slipped it on before crawling into bed. You let out a content sigh. Finally, the cool sheets and the most comfortable bed in the world.

Grabbing the book you’d been reading, you picked up right where you left off. But after just a few pages, the soft creak of the door opening caught your attention.

Joel peeked through the small gap he had made, then exhaled when he saw you.

“I thought you were asleep,” he said, explaining his mysterious way of entering, before jumping into bed after you.

He looked much more relaxed now, calmer. Like he had washed all his anger away somehow, being the dear old Joel again. But you won't break that easily.

Now, it was your turn.

He was lying on his stomach, both hands reaching for your legs. His fingertips brushed against your skin before he started stroking it softly, tracing small patterns.

You ignored him.

That didn’t stop him. He let out a quiet purr and placed a soft kiss on your ankle.

Nothing.

It didn’t get a reaction out of you. Or rather, not on the outside. Inside, you were already burning with need, and if you weren’t so stubborn, you would’ve tossed that stupid book aside long ago and pounced on him like a wild cougar.

But you stuck to your statement, letting him suffer for now. With a stony expression, you kept your eyes glued to the words on the page.

Joel, however, was undeterred. His eyes stayed locked on your face as he pressed another kiss a little higher up your leg. Then another. And another.

He trailed kisses all over your skin, not leaving a single inch untouched. Your body, unfortunately, betrayed you, a quiet giggle slipped from your lips.

You felt Joel’s smirk against your skin as he continued his path upward, his lips never stopping. His other hand massaged your other leg, slow and deliberate.

He was too good at this. His hands were always so skilled, rough yet soft at the same time. A combination that never failed to make your heart race and create a waterfall between your legs.

Even though his touches tickled and distracted you, you held your ground, refusing to soften. That’s why you stopped giggling as quickly as possible and refocused on your book.

“You smell so good,” he hummed between kisses, his hands slowly trailing higher.

He skipped over the part of your body covered by his t-shirt, aiming straight for your neck, but you dodged him.

He paused, considering his next move.

“Honey, I need you,” he murmured, dazed from kissing you, before making another attempt at your neck.

You dodged him again.

“Baby, please,” he whined, dropping his head onto your stomach, looking up at you through his lashes, his eyes full of need.

Without hesitation, you covered his face with your book. A bit rude, but undeniably brilliant. “Babe,” he groaned, hugging you and lazily caressing your leg with one hand.

He was trying hard, and for a second, you almost felt sorry for him, until you remembered how he had acted when he came home.

That thought reignited your resolve, and you steeled yourself once more, unyielding as a wall.

“No,” you snapped sharply. Joel sighed, finally realizing what this was about.

“I’m sorry, honey… I didn’t mean to upset you,” he murmured, his voice like the whimper of a guilty puppy. But your expression remained the same, emotionless.

“Please,” he whined, his hand slipping under your shirt, sneaking between your lower back and the mattress. Before you could even take a breath to protest, he grabbed your ass firmly, so hard that a low murmur escaped your lips, your eyes squeezing shut.

That was your limit.

You shut your book and set it aside.

Joel’s lips curled into a satisfied smirk, thinking he had finally won you over. But he was wrong.

“You want me, Joel?” Without hesitation, he nodded.

“And do you think,” you leaned in, stopping just inches from his lips, “you deserve it?”

He completely ignored your question and went in for a kiss, but you pulled away.

“I don’t think you do,” you teased, slipping out of his grasp. You were about to climb out of bed, but before you could, his hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, refusing to let go.

“Please,” he pleaded, looking devastatingly good while doing so, but you weren’t about to give in.

You yanked your arm free and walked around the bed. His eyes followed your every move, forcing him to roll onto his back while still lying down.

“If you really want me,” you mused, dragging a chair from the nearby table and placing it infront of the bed, “you’re gonna have to earn it.”

Joel’s eyes never left you. You sat down with a devilish smile, crossing your leg over the other. You both stared at each other for a moment, and Joel had no idea what you were planning.

“Take your clothes off,” you commanded, leaning back in the chair.

Joel hesitated for a second before he began undoing his shirt and pants, tossing them aside carelessly. Now he was only in his boxers, which perfectly outlined the shape of his hard dick.

Your throat filled with saliva as you sat up more comfortably, pressing your thighs together even tighter, to calm your throbbing pussy down.

You felt the heat spreading from your lower belly, slowly taking over your entire body. Your cheeks started turning red, but you still held your ground. “Take that off,” your voice wavered slightly, not as confident as before, but still carrying a hint of authority mixed with desperation.

Joel let out a deep breath, dropping his head for a moment. He shook it slightly before looking back at you, pure frustration in his eyes. Do you really want this? Do you really want to torture him like this? Yes, you do.

After realizing his pleading eyes weren’t working on you, he gave in and did exactly what you told him. He released his hard cock, that slammed against his stomach the moment he took off his shorts.

You took a deep breath, feeling the dampness between your legs seep onto Joel’s shirt, you couldn’t stop it. He was so big, every vein, every unshaven patch of him, perfect. Made just for you.

His eyes were filled with deep emptiness, as if they reflected the weight of the entire world. His brows were slightly furrowed, his forehead marked with faint lines of worry. His lips were slightly parted, yet no words came out, just a quiet, defeated breath.

His shoulders sagged, his posture slouched, as if even kneeling on the bed took too much effort. There was no spark in his gaze, only silent desperation.

The once strong, dominant, and fearless man, the one all of Jackson feared, whose mere sharp gaze sent shivers down the spine of anyone daring to hold eye contact, had been reduced to a pathetic mess, now kneeling on the bed, practically drooling over you.

He waited patiently, but it looked like it physically hurted him. He needed you, right here, right now, more than anything else.

“Touch yourself” you commanded with your chin held high and a sly look in your eyes. Joel exhaled, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. “Honey, I—” You didn’t even give him a chance to resign.

“Touch. Your. Self.”

He watched you for a moment, questions racing through his mind. Was this worth it? Should he just give up and spare himself the humiliation by you like this? But for you, it was worth it.

He slowly reached to his twitching penis, shivering at his touch, his gaze never left from your body. He carefully wrapped himself with his hand, his palms hot and sweaty. He groaned quietly, as he started lazily stroking himself.

It was pure torture for him, to see you and not be able to touch you, not to taste you. Every fiber of his being ached to grab you, to feel every inch of your body under his hands, but he couldn’t. All he could do was kneeling there, helpless, as you watched him, his breathing growing faster with every passing second and so did his pace.

For a moment he had to throw his head back and focus only on the feeling, the way his hand pumped, trying to imagine your tight wet pussy wrapped around his cock, instead of his own hand.

He snapped back to the present, his eyes scanning every inch of you. But you weren’t any better off, it was just as much torture for you as it was for him.

You wanted to feel him inside you, how deep he would go, how fast and hard he would pound into you, where his hands would wander on your body. Just from these images, your bottom started to tingle and your core clenched around nothing.

You couldn't take it anymore. You slowly opened your legs, revealing your dripping pussy. Joel's eyes immediately dropped down, watching as you traced your fingers against your folds, sighing whole holding eye contact.

The tension between you was unspeakable. The atmosphere was so thick it could be slices into milion pieces.

Your hips were moving along with your fingers, your breath getting louder with every second that passed.

Joel was nearing orgasm. His head was spinning and his balls were so fucking full. His tip already leaking with pre-cum, his hand movements slippery and absent-minded. If he could just feel you, just a little taste of your wetness, he would be happier right away.

,,Fuckk…” he groaned under his nose, his jaw dropped as he tightly shutted his eyes.

You pushed one finger between your folds, stretching your walls. Biting your lip, you let out a small squeak and kept your eyes fixed on Joel, while your finger curled inside you. Your other hand joined, making a small circles around your poking, sensitive clitoris.

Joel grumbled, the urge to watch you forcing him to keep his eyes open, but the need for relief was stronger. "Darlin' I-" his body tensed, every muscle was tight before he shuddered and soiled the entire sheets with his semen.

He growled really loudly from his lungs, before he finally relaxed and lay down on his back. Seeing Joel cum right in front of you moved you way faster to your edge.

You shut your eyes, slowly throw your head back and jumped on your fingers. Your teeth sinking into your lip, making a bloody mess on them. You whimper, your eyebrows furrowed and then, it suddenly hit you. The need to pee, the sudden cold that enveloped your whole body expcept the fire in your belly. A few more pumps and you released, cumming right on your fingers. Your juice seeped onto Joel’s shirt, the one you were still wearing.

Both of you were now trying to catch your breath, still in your places—you on the chair, Joel on the bed. But he didn’t give you much time, because his eagerness and desire for you had only grown stronger, after what had just happened.

He crawled toward you, the bed squeaking beneath him, so he couldn’t exactly sneak up on you completely unnoticed. But by the time you lifted your head and realized what was happening, you were already on the bed, pinned beneath him.

He wasted no time, covering your neck with his mouth. His beard tickled and scratched at the same time, creating a deadly combination you always adored. From the way he was aggressively sucking and biting at your skin, you knew there would definitely be bruises left behind.

But you didn’t mind. It was proof that you were his.

Your fingers, still slick with your own arousal, tangled themselves in Joel’s graying, wavy hair, tugging whenever he unexpectedly bit down. Each time, a gasp escaped your lips. It was music to his ears, fueling him to continue with even more intensity.

His hands couldn’t decide where to stay, roaming your body like he was trying to memorize every inch of your soft, clean skin. Finally having the chance to touch you, to squeeze you, he took full advantage. One hand slipped under your shirt, technically his shirt, and without warning, he cupped one of your breasts, rough and desperate.

“Joel-“

You purred, arching your back as you forcefully grabbed Joel’s face and crashed your lips onto his. He moaned into the kiss, his dick hardening again, as he started playing with you nipple.

He twisted it in different ways, took it between his thumb and index finger, gently squeezing it, careful not to hurt you. As a reaction to that, your whole body arched upward against Joel’s hot body, feeling his thick penis pressing against your inner thigh.

“I’ve been craving for this all day,” his warm breath brushed against your earlobe, sending chills down your spine. His hand never stopped teasing your nipple, while his other hand was planted firmly on the bed to keep his balance.

Despite how much he was teasing you, you gathered your strength and decided that tonight, he wouldn’t be the one in control. With a swift move, you wrapped your legs around his waist and flipped him onto his back, leaving him breathless and completely caught off guard.

“Woah, someone is-” Before he could finish his sentence while grinning devilishly, you interrupted him with a passionate kiss. He quickly responded, holding your head with his massive hand, his palm covering almost your entire scalp, while his other hand firmly gripped your hip, pulling you closer.

“I don’t think you earned the permission to control me tonight,” you whisper, your eyes full of hunger, your voice seductive and sly, while your lips, swollen from kissing Joel, are still pressed against his.

Your tongues were fighting against each other, lazily, even though no one really wanted to win. Your salivas mixes together, creating the most tastefull liquid, that both of you couldn't get enough.

The room was filled with both of your moans, that dissapeard into each other kisses.

Your ass, slowly, frantically, critically rubbing against Joel’s thick cock. You had to feel something, you yearn to feel him. Your chafing grew more intense, quicker and relentless, forcing Joel to stop kissing you and grunt through his clenched teeth.

“Fuck honey,” he sounds rough and hopeless, his eyes making it obvious, that he needs to be fucked, badly.

You adore his miserable face, his trembling hands gripped on your hips, their frantic pressure forcing you to stop moving and finally sink into him. His eyes sparkled with something you couldn't quite name, but it radiated desire, lust, and something much darker. Something like hunger and the thrill of the hunt.

For a moment, your fingers traced over his rough stubble, gently scratching him, before you decided to act. Your gaze dropped beneath you, as you adjusted yourself to drop yourself, without any unpleasant difficulty.

You wrapped his dick in your palm, not too hard but not to soft, making him gasp a little, before his tip touched your wet folds and steadily slipping between them. Finally, it felt so heavenly good to finally be filled, but he also make you remember how fucking big he is, that every time you doubt about making it fit.

And every time, he makes sure it does.

His eagerness refused to let him wait patiently, forcing him to lift his hips and push deeper into you, speeding up the process. Your eyes widened, a soft whimper escaping your lips, a breathless echo of his name.

“J-joel-“

You had to drop your palms against his hairy chest for some balance, claiming his veiny penis in. You bit your lip, trying to keep the moans inside but still, some of your cries slipped out.

Joel's jaw dropped while keep stretching your tenuous walls, until your pussy met his base, not leaving space for anything else. Despite your doubts, Joel proved to you, once again, that it fit.

It was all too much, and you didn't even start. The way you were so full of him, your wetness dropping on his cock, stopping on his balls, that longed to be emptied already.

You both waited, there was no hurry, no preassure, but you were both so aroused, that you couldn't wait any longer. When you got used to his length, you started, with Joel's help, moving smoothly back and forth. Initially slowly, to warm up, so that your persistent pulsating core would stop, but now, you were just tightly gripping Joel.

You listlessly threw your head back and closed your eyes, focusing all your attention only on Joel's cock, that was unintentionally rubbing against your weak walls.

"Mhm yeah, that's it," Joel growled, his eyes glued to you. He watched your every move, every twitch in your face, every shiver, he memorized it all, so during moments alone, he could remember this, remember you.

You were careful, slow and deliberate, but you enjoyed every moment you felt his tip twitch inside you. Your gaze met his, the weight of the eye contact was incalculable. It was so intimate, so romantic, so pleasurable. But you wanted more. You needed more.

Your ass begun to move faster, Joel's hands slid to your fat halves and gently slapped them, making you squeak. His playful slap gave you energy to speed up your pace. You used all your leg muscles to ride him, feeling his cock caressing your silk insides and poking your cervix from time to time.

“Jesus Christ baby,” he sigh, finally give in and drop his head onto the mattress. Your senses were evaporating away, the unyielding urge to take him deeper tickles your brain. Your body instinctively, out of necessity, began gently changing the direction, moving up and down and damn, this position will take you both to the grave.

Your gasps grew more ragged, the wet slapping sounds echoing around you, locking you into an invisible cage.

The heat between your legs was burning and you felt your muscles losing its strength, your lungs having lack of oxygen. Joel noticed it immediately, grabbing your ass firmly and making you jump on him, uncontrollably, rhythmlessly but damn hard.

He pulled himself fully out of you, before he firmly thrust into you with his full strength. Every time he sat you down, your throat automatically let out a wheezing breath, your breasts shift with gravity, just like your already tousled ponytail.

Joel clenched his jaw, still holding your weight, helping both of you reach your orgasm. The air around you both feels thick with anticipation, each breath syncing with the rhythm of your movements. The soft slapping sound of skin against skin fills the space, adding to the sensuality of the moment. The warmth of his body against yours, mixed with the heat from the room, creates a charged, almost intoxicating atmosphere.

It’s a heady blend of desire, closeness, and something deeper, making everything feel intimate and undeniably sexy. The way your bodies move together, the soft sighs and gasps, only heightens the intensity, making each second feel drawn out yet impossibly perfect.

Joel feels every movement, his body tense beneath the pressure as he holds you steady, his grip firm yet careful. His mind is a blur of sensation and restraint, every exhale heavy as he drinks in the sight of you, your skin, the way you move, the warmth between you both. The air is thick, heated, filled with the quiet sounds of breath and the rhythm you’ve fallen into together.

You feel his hands grounding you, his touch sparking waves of pleasure, yet there’s something else beneath it. Something softer, something unexpected. Every motion pulls you deeper into the moment, where instinct and connection intertwine.

It’s intoxicating, the way your body responds to his, the way every shift and sigh draws you closer. You feel strong yet vulnerable all at once, lost in the wild rhythm you’ve created.

“Mhm you're so fucking tight baby~” Joel groan, squeezing your ass, his nostrils flared with every thrust, his brows furrowed as he bit down hard on his lip, trying not to cry out your name across the bedroom, not wanting to seem weak.

The tension builds between you both, every movement pushing you closer to the edge. His grip tightens, fingers digging into your skin as his breath turns ragged, each thrust becoming more desperate, more precise. Your body trembles, heat coiling tight in your core, every nerve alight with sensation.

“Joel, oh god,”

You feel it before it happens. That dizzying moment of surrender, where pleasure overtakes everything else. Your gasp catches in your throat, your body tightening around him as a wave of ecstasy crashes through you, leaving you weightless, breathless, completely undone.

Joel follows right after, a deep, guttural groan escaping his lips as his body shudders against yours, lost in his own release. His hands hold you still, as if grounding himself in the moment, in you.

The world fades into nothing but heat, heavy breaths, the air between you thick with satisfaction and something unspoken, something deeper.

You collapsed dazedly onto Joel, your chest rising and falling rapidly, as you buried your face into his neck. You were both quiet, trying to catch your breath and let the moment settle. The whole room smelled like sex, even Joel, even you.

After a few minutes, Joel regained his strength, lifted his head, and realized he was still inside you. With a sigh, he let his head fall back onto the pillow, staring at the ceiling for a moment.

“You were in control until now.”

His voice was rough, wrecked, hoarse from restraint, yet thick with the remnants of pleasure. Slowly, he pulled himself out of you, a low growl rumbling in his throat as you let out a tired sigh, a deep sense of emptiness settling in.

“Let me take care of you now.”

You could listen to him for hours, lost in the gravelly warmth of his bedroom voice. The last thing you wanted was to leave the bed, but Joel had other plans. He wasn’t about to let you stay like this, not when a mix of him and you was still slipping from between your thighs.

Noticing your exhaustion, he carefully scooped you up, holding you against his chest like you were something delicate, something precious. Your limbs felt heavy, spent, but his warmth made it easy to sink into him as he carried you to the bathroom.

“Shall we take another shower?” Joel asked, and you just let out an annoyed purr, resting your head against his chest. You felt the slight tremor in his body as he chuckled softly.

“You’ll rest after, I promise.” He pressed a gentle, reassuring kiss to your forehead before carrying you both into the bathroom.

[crazylittlejester]

How my modern au guys would respond to their therapist saying “And what do we do when we’re sad?”

Time: Would grumble “lay down and die” under his breath and when asked to repeat himself he’d loudly go “Talk to my lovely wife about my problems so she doesn’t worry about my mental health”. His therapist absolutely heard him correctly the first time

War: “Skate until the voices stop”, he would then be asked to try again and would say “uhhh….. ‘add to cart’?”, he would then be asked to try AGAIN at which point he would start getting defensive and argue about how his first answer, figure skating, is good for his mental health. His therapist who has been with him this whole fucking journey would raise both eyebrows at him like “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me? right?” since figure skating is a huge reason War is in therapy in the first place (the other reason being his mother and severe abandonment issues)

Twilight: “New tattoo”, and then he’d mentally shut down and stare at the wall because Midna has offered to do his next tattoo and he’s too much of a disaster to hold a conversation with her alone because hes head over heels in love with her and cannot bring himself to ask her out so he just spontaneously combusts whenever shes less than twenty feet away from him. His therapist would then attempt to get his attention back for five solid minutes and decide to just move past the question because they have a Lot of other things to discuss and they only get one hour a week

Sky: out loud he’d say “talk to my friends and family for support” but he’d genuinely have to fight to stop himself from cheerfully going “kill myself!!”

Hyrule: does not go to therapy but hypothetically he’d respond with “go on a walk and appreciate nature”, which would be an acceptable answer

Legend: REFUSES to go to therapy, but hypothetically he would say “kill myself”, would double down on it, and would then be asked a series of questions trying to gauge how serious he is about that which would leave his therapist without a concrete answer and then he probably wouldn’t be allowed to be left alone for a while

Wild: “Arts and crafts, and go on a walk”, which is an acceptable answer but his therapist would also remind him to lean on friends if he needs them. Which Wild DOES do. And by “friends” that really just means War because War is the only one he feels comfortable calling while sobbing at 4 in the morning even if he feels really guilty about waking him up

Four: “Drink water”, his poor therapist would respond with “thats a start” but wouldn’t try to argue with him or prompt another response from him because they’ve learned from experience not to do that

Wind: “Play video games”, he would then be asked to try again and would respond with “call my friends”, he would then be asked what else and would spent several minutes trying to think of things he does when he’s sad that he doesn’t think his therapist would judge him for (because he will confess to NO ONE that he curls up under a blanket with a stuffed toy and cries until he feels better”

[toribellsa]

Landoscar!ex-lovers

Lando is quite a popular DJ, while Oscar is a student at a prestigious university. To everyone around them, these two were the perfect couple.

 They break up after a year of dating because Lando is afraid of serious commitments and responsibilities, but at the same time, he can't treat Oscar lightly. This breakup is painful for both of them, and each copes with it in their own way. Oscar throws himself into his studies, overloading himself so that he has no energy left to think about Lando. Meanwhile, Lando dives into music and parties with all his friends or just acquaintances to drown out the ringing emptiness that remains in him after he left their apartment with Oscar.

And everything would be fine if it weren't for one BUT. Every time after parties, drunk Lando always ends up in Oscar's apartment, where he crawls into bed with him, tightly hugging his ex-boyfriend from behind and falling asleep. In the morning, when he wakes up, he doesn't remember how he got there, so he tries to escape before Oscar wakes up to avoid a conversation and questions.

Max, who picks him up, never says anything, but looks so understanding that Lando wants to hit him.

The first time Lando comes at night, Oscar thinks it's just a dream, a play of a longing mind. So he allows himself to snuggle closer to Lando's chest with his back, feeling the grip around his waist tighten slightly. Only when he becomes unbearably hot because Lando is still a living heater does he realize that the sensations are too real for a dream. The young man thinks that Lando didn't come just for nothing.

In the morning, when he wakes up, Lando is already gone from the apartment.

Oscar gets used to waking up at night from the warmth of Lando behind him, from the weight of his arm on his waist, from his soft kisses on the crown of his head, and his even breathing that lulls Oscar back to sleep. Every time he falls asleep, he thinks about finally getting the second set of keys from Lando or at least changing the locks so that his heart doesn't break every morning from false hope when instead of Lando next to him, he feels only the ghost of his ex-lover's perfume.

They continue in this rhythm for several months. Oscar doesn't change the locks, and Lando keeps coming over. Piastri leaves painkillers and a glass of water on the nightstand by the bed for Lando, while Lando needs less and less alcohol each time to return to the familiar apartment.

(On one gray morning, Oscar wakes up, tries to move, and realizes that familiar hands are still tightly holding him. The familiar weight around his waist only increases when he is pulled closer. Oscar feels Lando's nose pressing against the crown of his head, followed by the sensation of warm lips behind his ear as the guy kisses him.

- It's still too early, Osk, sleep. I won't go anywhere, I promise.

Oscar freezes for a moment, then allows himself to settle more comfortably in Lando's embrace. He is sure that they will really talk.)

[landossnorriss]

never stop racing || ln x she.

Pairing: lando x she. Summary: travelling to the singapore grandprix at 8 months seemed like a great idea. until it wasn't. Word Count: 2.1ishk Warning: pregnancy & mush. AN: i started this after the grand prix and just found it and decided to finish it. it hasn't been proof read or edited really so sorry for any errors, finishing this was purely a self service. she absolutely, should not have come to the track today. at 8 months pregnant she shouldn't have been travelling all but given the level of tears that had been shed when he had tried to leave her, lando felt like he would have moved heaven and earth to get her the all clear to fly with him. she still had a month left at this point so he wasn't sure what the drama was , there was plenty of time for her to be returned safely to monaco after they had finished this race. they had agreed that she would be shipped straight to the garage and that is where she would hide all weekend, no traditional media walk ins together , no stopping to be nice , lando wasn't playing when it came to her and for most of the weekend , a smug feeling settled on him at just how easy it had been to have her here. she had smashed the long practice days, quali hadn't seemed to unsettle her all that much, everything had seemed calm as she had kissed him good luck and he had settled into his car before the race. everything was fine the way that he had said it was going to be.

he was wrong.

the radio was quiet , too quiet. he didn't think much of it at first , it was usually a good thing that the radio was quiet and that there wasn't much for will to say but when he called for a tire update and wills response was so slow? he knew something was wrong.

" tires are good. " wills short reply came and that was enough for lando's panic to really set in. will always had more to say, he was a yapper even when lando had begged him not to be. " what's wrong? " he asked his engineer, fighting back the urge to pull into the pits as he passed them to check himself, he couldn't afford to give up this win if everything was okay but why - " hello? why is no one talking to me? " he called again before he heard the radio open once more and this time , will wasn't quick enough , lando heard it just as he was quickly closed again. " why is she screaming! " his baby , something was happening to his love and no one was talking to him.

" so lando , we don't want you to panic, but we may have a water breaking situation happening here in the garage, just a little labour but she told us not to tell you. " will offered and lando could hear the nerves in his voice. over the years they had promised to not to lie to each other , to keep each other honest and he knew his race engineer was likely in a tough spot.

"what do you mean shes in labour and you didn't tell - fuck i hit the wall, check for wing damage boys. " lando cursed as he made his first hiccup of the race. how could they just drop that on him. sweat was pooling around his eyes, everything in him ached in the heat , he was so far out ahead he didn't even know what point in the race he was even at any more and his son was about to be born?

" box, i'm gunna box this lap." lando called because no championship was worth him missing the birth of his son, not when he was so close. will turned to look at her from where she had been laid out at the back of the garage given she hadn't wanted to move anywhere else. "he's going to box." the engineer called and maybe they always asked too much of her, but today she understood what they wanted, what they needed. " give me a fucking radio right now. " she groaned through another contraction.

she had thought about asking jon to drive her back to the hotel quietly when she had felt her water break. women's births took hours all the time, especially their first, lando could join her when she was done , but everyone had been busy and she was sure her contractions could be hidden once they started. turned out , lando wasn't the only one wrong about everything being fine. " lando norris , you do not need to box."

" but he's about to be here and i don't want to miss him. "

"you're not missing anything other than the damage i'm currently doing to jons hand."

" i want to see you. "

" i want you to stop nearly crashing into the wall, i have a baby to hold off for another 20 minutes and you have a fucking race to win and a championship to win got it muppet? "

" baby... "

" i'll hold off as long as i can lan, but i need you to drive okay, ow shit, i promise, i love you so much now fucking drive. "

" i need to box to check the wing. "

" then box but if you get out of that car i won't deliver this baby out of pure spite. "

" what if i miss him?" lando didn't want to miss the birth of his first son , " whose with you? " he knew that it was likely she was surrounded but he needed to know exactly who was at her side.

she couldn't help but smile, one of the hardest races of the year and he could take the time to ask about who was holding her hand. god she loved him so much. " if you miss , fucking hell that one hurts. " she groaned as another contraction rolled through her and lando swerved, ever so slightly. " okay being on the radio is a bad idea , you're gunna crash , i'll hold off lan and if i can't , we will tell him his dad was winning a race just a few minutes away whilst his team welcomed him into the world okay?" she cried through the radio.

" you mean more to me than this. "

" and your future , your dreams ? they're mine to protect lando norris , box this lap for fresh tires. i'll see you at the end of the race. " she nodded , pulling the headset off of herself before she could change her mind and beg for lando to join her.

lando was sure he and will hadn't spoken this much during a race since he had been a rookie , reminders to drink and bring the car home, the urge to box every time he heard even a muffle of a sound in the background. will gave him the updates he could without distracting him too much.

as soon as he took the chequered flag he had one mission , get weighed, get to the garage. press could honestly go fuck itself , he would take all the fines in the world to make it back to the safety of his garage without being stopped but as he arrived, pulling his balaclava off, he heard the distinct cry he had been waiting for over the last several months. his son.

"i missed him?" lando breathed as he came to a halt next to andrea, his eyes landing on the love of his life and the tiny bundle in her arms, jon faithfully at their side.

" are you gunna believe me if i tell you i had to push one more time just as you crossed the finish line?" she beamed as she looked back at the man who was no doubt facing some serious fines given the lack of time it had taken him to get here from parc ferme , he couldn't have waited to do a single thing other than get weighed.

lando stood frozen as he took in them , she had never looked more beautiful to him in the years that he had loved her. she was surrounded by tires, blankets , her cheeks were as red as his own from the heat. way too many people surrounded her and yet every bit of her looked perfect. " you did it. " slowly finding his feet again lando moved the small few steps to kneel next to her , zak moving out of his way so that the young family could take each other in for the first time.

" careful , we're still attached whilst we wait for the ambulance. " she urged lightly as lando reached to cup his sons head, watching as big blue, green eyes looked up at him. he looked just like him , he was a dad. " meet your son race winner. " feeling a hand clap on his shoulder, lando lifted his head for a moment looking at zak with tears in his eyes.

" congrats kid. " zak offered , words failing him for seemingly the first time in forever. he had known lando since he was a boy. now as he looked at him , for the first time it was clear to see the man he had grown into. with a boy of his own. nodding lando flashed him a smile before his gaze looked back at his baby and the woman holding him.

" you did it , i'm sorry i wasn't here. " he mused , leaning to offer her a soft kiss despite their audience , oscar now having also joined the party. " god hes so perfect look at him. " he couldn't believe that he was here , what had he ever done to deserve his life being this good?

" alright everybody , let's give the new parents some space and let the medical professionals get in here , oscar to interviews , we have some answers to give for landos absence." andrea called, moving the crowds along, only a select few staying close by, not many willing to push the boss.

" i can't believe i gave birth at a grand prix , how did we even let this happen. " she chuckled as she looked back at lando , who had yet to take his eyes off of his son.

" i can't believe you wouldn't let me box. " he muttered , they still hadn't agreed on a name , they had none of his stuff and yet everything felt oddly calm in this moment.

" never stop racing lando , we never stop racing. " she whispered hand reaching out to run through his race worn curls.

" huh , i like that , might have to steal that one. " zak chuckled behind them as he continued to watch on. they weren't paying attention to him and that was fine , he was happy to watch as they spoke in hushed whispers, fawning over their new born. he knew as lando had grown into himself, lots of people had questioned who he was but they would have had needed to see this , the two of them so in love with each other it was obvious in every small movement. his eyes followed lando who never moved from her side as they were moved into an ambulance, who climbed alongside her in his race suit without a thought. there would be questions to answer come tomorrow morning , statements to release, he'd given them as much time as he could together before it was on to the next one .

feeling a presence at his side as he watched the ambulance drive off, zak smiled at his team principle, giving off a small laugh as he did . " you think any race is going to top this one? "

" i'm not so sure , but our family just grew by one , so wins all around."

________________________________________________________

at the hospital , lando found himself wide awake. looking to the hospital bed he found the love of his life still sound asleep, the day had finally caught up with her once everyone had been checked over. jon had dropped him his normal clothes in but the rest of the visitors had been put off till tomorrow.

the nurse had told him it was important to learn to sleep whilst the baby did but all he could do right now was hold him , take in every perfect piece of him. he could feel the tears well again if he thought about the fact he was here and he had just missed him arriving but there had been plenty of assurances that neither mum nor baby would have had it any other way and lando couldn't believe his luck , a mclaren baby through and through was just a little too on brand for the young racing driver.

" hey little man , just me again , i can't believe that you're here and you're mine and that your mum did such an amazing job with you. " he whispered to the sleeping infant in his arms , little milo , milo maxwell norris. " i know you're sleeping , but i just wanted to promise you that i'm going to give you the world, you and your mum , even if i'm racing , even if it gets hard, you will always be my number one milo, always. "

[weirdsht]

Endure - Caleb x Fem! Reader

a/n: so basically this is a rant disguised as a fic lol. I didn't want my first lads fic to be me ranting but it is what it is

tags: SET DURING OLD DAYS, female reader, no hurt comfort only, use of pet names (pipsqueak, princess), hints of insecurity, possessive/yandere caleb if you squint super duper hard, mental breakdowns, religious innuendos if you squint

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Requests are open and welcome

Navigation Masterlist

Everything feels overwhelming. Everything feels tiring. At this point, you have been running on pure adrenaline and spite. You don't know when was the last time you rested, yet the pile of work never seems to lessen.

That has been your life for weeks now. You would have let go of everything if it wasn't for the pressure to do well. To be one of the best. You have to strive for excellence, you have to be better than good. It's the only thing you can do for the adoptive grandma that took you in, as well as Caleb who is always there to support you.

Hence why despite the bloody noses. Despite all the concerned gazes and inquiries from your peers, you persevered. Rise above the challenge to give a more than satisfactory output.

“What do you mean you can't make it? You're the one who volunteered for the job. You said you wanted to be the head of this team and now the night before you're telling me you can't rise to the occasion? What a load of bullshit.”

You mumbled to yourself as you read your classmates' half-assed apology at 3 a.m. in the morning. The project is due later in the day, and they had barely started before abandoning the job—of course, that makes you responsible for picking up their slack. 

Not bothering to reply, you instead focused on stretching as you say goodbye once more to the sleep you have been longing for. You messaged the class representative for the course— telling them to remove that classmate’s name from the final output— before finally starting to work once more.

With your every being focused on the various screens in front of you, you didn't notice the door opening. Caleb enters your apartment, confused as to why there's still light coming from your bedroom when it's already past 4 a.m. in the morning.

“Pips? You still awake?”

Caleb's soft question broke your concentration, making you stand up from your desk in order to greet him in the living room.

“Yea still working on something. I didn't know you were going to visit.”

You replied tiredly, watching your childhood best friend change into indoor slippers before stepping inside the house. He smiled at you but you couldn't reciprocate it. You feel so tired that you think your vision is doubling. Eyes too heavy, yet the task impending seems heavier.

“I bought some ingredients to cook for tomorrow, can you help me arrange them?”

 Even you didn't know why, his request sent you over the edge. As soon as the question left his tongue, tears flooded your eyes and rained down your cheeks. You desperately tried to stop the onslaught of emotions attacking your heart. Tried to immediately wipe the tears flowing down your face before Caleb noticed.

But Caleb's eyes are faster than you.

Of course, it was.

Especially when it comes to you.

Dropping the shopping bag he was holding on the ground, Caleb sauntered over to where you are. His movements are languid and relaxed, clearly seeing that you didn't need something that will add onto your already overwhelming feelings.

He had always been like that. Had always known what you wanted, what you needed. It was as if he could read your mind. 

You wanted to repay his efforts by being the best version of yourself. By showing him that all his love and care won't go to waste. 

Not whatever mess of a state you are currently in.

As Caleb hugs you, you try to stop the tears once more. Rationalise to yourself that there's no reason to cry— because really, there isn't. He didn't even demand you to help him. Caleb just politely asked. On the contrary, it's you who always demands him to be at your beck and call. Not caring if he's in Skyhaven and also pursuing higher education.

The realisation of how he has been to you made you cry harder. The guilt suddenly eating you alive as your brain tells you just how ungrateful you are. 

Meanwhile, Caleb simply hugs you while combing your hair with his fingers. Waiting for you to come back to him on your own time while simultaneously reminding you of his presence. At some point, the two of you ended up on the ground with you on Caleb's lap as you rested your head on his chest.

“You ready to talk princess?”

Caleb whispered against your hair as he noticed your sobs dying down. You nodded, head still against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.

“It's- hic- silly”

“Nothing's silly for me when it comes to you.”

His genuine words of affirmation got you spilling your entire soul. All the stress, anxiety, doubt, and insecurities poured over in one go. Everything that had happened within the past weeks was retold with no details left to spare. 

Caleb, your personal angel sent by the heavens, listened attentively. He never once made you feel like your problems were insignificant. He held onto every last word that left your lips as though you were a goddess sentencing your sinners.

And maybe in Caleb's eyes, you are indeed a goddess.

His goddess.

But that's something you didn't need to know. Something your best friend will keep lock and key until the time is right.

“When was the last time you ate pipsqueak?”

Caleb asks once you are done venting all your problems.

“Thursday…”

You mumbled, hoping he wouldn't hear. But of course, he does, there's not a word spoken by you within Caleb's vicinity that he would not hear. Instead of chastising you, he merely hummed before asking you another question.

“How about sleep?”

“...Also Thursday.”

Caleb hummed once more before picking you up and standing up. Once he was sure you were comfortable in his hold, he went over to his abandoned groceries before walking towards your kitchen.

“Okay here's what we're going to do. I'm going to cook, you're going to eat and then sleep. It's Monday morning now princess, I can't let you neglect yourself like this.”

The fighter pilot student spoke with finality but you couldn't help but question him.

“What about my outputs? It needs to be done now…”

Honestly, you didn't want to do them anymore. After crying your body felt heavier than ever before and all you wanted to do was cuddle in Caleb's arms after eating his homemade cooking. Plus, it wasn't even your job to begin with, so why must you work so hard to finish it?

Of course, you also know that you can't just leave it be. Your grades are on the line. You can't just let all your hard work go down the train because you feel a little tired.

“I'll finish it. All you need to do is follow as I say and I'll handle the rest, okay?”

“But…”

“Don't worry it's not for free.”

Caleb reassured you, knowing exactly how to get you to agree to his whims.

“Of course not pips. In exchange for this, you must show me proof that your classmate that you mentioned will get a zero on this project. Plus you need to join me in that new cafe in Skyhaven next weekend, I heard they have a couples discount.” 

Later you'll realise how Caleb's conditions are still unfair towards him. But by that time it'll be too late because he'll reason that it's a done deal already— he won't be accepting extra payments outside of your contract.

For now though, you sit comfortably on the counter Caleb placed you in. Watching him cook you your favourite meals as you look forward to finally relaxing with the one person you can call home.

[belit0]

The Uchiha's reaction to learning that her one-night stand with an Uzumaki woman ended with her pregnant with their child, she sent them letters to inform them of the existence of their child that never reached them, causing her to resent them and decide to raise her child alone, only to later meet them in the village while visiting members of the Senju clan.

The only 3 Uchihas, who, in my opinion, would have one-night stands

Madara

Madara was not a man easily caught off guard. He prided himself on control, on knowing all the moving pieces of the board before anyone else. But when he saw her—really saw her—standing in the village square, speaking with a Senju, a small child gripping the hem of her cloak, something in him stilled.

That dark hair. That face. The unmistakable Uchiha eyes staring up at him from a child far too young to have any business looking at him like that.

His.

The realization struck hard and fast, a silent storm beneath his ribs. His gaze lifted to (Y/N), but she was already watching him, arms crossed, shoulders squared—unyielding. There was no warmth in her expression. No relief. Only the cold steel of resentment, carved deep with time.

-You knew,- he said, voice low, carrying between them.

Her lips curled—not a smile, not quite. -Not at first. Not until the letters went unanswered.-

A letter. No—letters.

Something burned hot in his chest. Who had intercepted them? Who had kept this from him? The answer mattered less than the consequence.

He stepped forward, but the child pressed closer to her side. (Y/N)’s fingers curled protectively around their shoulder.

-Don’t.- A warning.

Madara exhaled slowly. He had never wanted for control, never needed to chase. But this? This was something he had no hold over.

A child. His child.

And a woman who no longer trusted him.

He could fix this. He would fix this.

Izuna

-You're joking,- Izuna said flatly, staring at the child peeking out from behind (Y/N)’s leg.

-Do I look like I’m joking?- she shot back.

Izuna opened his mouth, closed it again. His mind raced. A child? His? He’d never—he would have—

His eyes narrowed. -I never got any letters.-

-I figured that much when I never got a response.- There was no heat in her voice, just the weight of a wound left untended.

Izuna ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. This was insane. A child? And a Uzumaki at that. Their kid was bound to be a force of nature.

The kid—his kid—tilted their head, watching him carefully. He could see it, now that he was looking. The sharp Uchiha features softened by (Y/N)’s bloodline. Dark hair, but a tint of red catching in the sun.

-Say something,- (Y/N) said, arms crossed.

Izuna let out a huff, dropping into a crouch before the child. He wasn’t sure what to say, what could be said after all these years. So, he did what he did best—he grinned.

-Well,- he drawled, -you’ve got my good looks, at least.-

The child blinked at him. Then, to his utter delight, smirked.

(Y/N) sighed. -Great. There’s two of you now.-

Izuna chuckled. This wasn’t what he’d expected today—but he wasn’t the type to run.

-Guess I’ve got some catching up to do, huh?

Shisui

Shisui had faced war. Had been a ghost on the battlefield, a whisper in the dark. And yet, nothing in his life had prepared him for this moment.

For her.

For the small child gripping (Y/N)’s hand, looking up at him with eyes he knew far too well.

His stomach twisted. He could feel it, the weight of all that had been lost. The letters he never received. The years he’d never get back.

-…I would have come,- he said at last, voice quiet.

(Y/N) flinched, just slightly. Anger flickered across her face, but beneath it, something else. Something softer, rawer. -I waited for you,- she admitted. -For a long time.-

Shisui swallowed hard. He wanted to say he was sorry, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to reach out, but he had no right.

The child stepped closer, half-curious, half-cautious. Shisui lowered himself to the level of the boy's eyes, offering a smile that felt too small for the moment.

-Hey there,- he murmured.

Dark eyes studied him. Then, carefully, tentatively—the child took a step closer.

And Shisui knew, with bone-deep certainty, that he would never let them go again.

[anellopeao3]

Little insight of my absolute favourite official art ever made and the meaning behind it (imo).

Let's start with this: it did not come out of nowhere. It splits an important interaction in two, a fundamental turning point for their relationship: Kou deciding to open up to Nene after the Severance (and the aftermath of that).

When Kou methaphorically points at his and Nene's very similar apples to asks a very important question.

"What are you going to do.../ What do you want to do?"

Did you think of a solution?

Arc after arc, Kou and Nene were proven times and times again that you can't just wish for the supernatural you care about to stick by your side. Because something always happens. Because they'll find a way to always slip from your fingers. Because Nene and Kou have the exact same kind of apple in hand: a supernatural they can't be with, not by the rules of their world. Hanako is the apple, Mitsuba is the apple.

And Kou has made his decision already.

There is no time left for the perfect solution to be figured out. Kou can't wait anymore for things to get fixed the right way. Of course, Kou aspires and will always try to reach for Absolute Victory. Why settle for less? Why giving up when something can still be done?

But that has no importance if his future with Mitsuba isn't secured first.

The taste of honey of the forbidden garden at reach is what Nene and Kou have in common; their sinful desire of what is forbidden to know the flavor of. And Kou's stare is anything but doubtful when he comes closer to take the first bite.

He knows a way to reach the apple, now. He knows how to get Mitsuba, in the end. A road with no way back, finally (in fact, a bite is enough to get banished from Eden, you can't undo it, the same way someone who died can't turn back to a human, not by their world's rules, at least.)

Because she has to have thought about it as well, right? A solution to their desires. A way to secure their happiness, no matter what happens around them, to them. They are the same, after all, so she will understand.

And so he tells her.

The art is placed here, cutting in half a question from its response: Kou and Nene are back to back, and while he looks straight ahead... Nene looks doubtfully in our direction, the apple right to her face, ...no intention to eat it yet. And that's it.

He doesn't really give her a chance at all to properly respond. To decide. To understand.

She answers the question with another question, with doubts and concern, and Kou not only doesn't have an answer for her but expected something totally different; he expected her to be like him, to understand instantly, without further questions. Because he didn't need any of those.

The one time Kou opens up to her ends as quick as it started: Nene answers wrongly and so he closes her off again, because he wasn't looking for her actual opinion, he was looking for her comforting presence next to him while taking the bite that he had already choosen to take.

I think it isn't just a coincidence that Kou went and faced all of his rotten desires right after this, in the Red House. Maybe Adam and Eve discovered the feeling of shame after the first bite, but Kou is facing it as if, by willingness alone, he had already set his faults in stone and is already paying the consequences of his sin.

[nahoney22]

Liar Liar (Part 6/?)

Part Six - Escape // «<< Part Five

🫧Pairings: Commander Fox X Female Reader

🫧 word count: 2.1k

🫧Chapter Summary: Tensions are high and secrets are being shared among the Guard. Meanwhile Fox's lies dig him in deeper trouble with one of his brothers.

🫧Warnings: Safe for work, implied argument between Hound and Fox, flirty messages, more lying, mentions of an escape prisoner, over protective fox kinda.

You spent far too long staring at your comm when you got back to your apartment, typing and deleting message after message, unable to settle on what to say to Whisky as your date had been cut short…

You could just ask him outright about what he wanted to say but something held you back. Every time your fingers hovered over the keys, doubt crept in, and you erased the words before they could be sent

So instead, you paced your apartment, overthinking.

What had he been about to say?

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was everything.

Maybe he didn’t want to date you. You would be upset, yes, but you hadn’t known him very long. Although, a part of you felt like you had known him for longer. Your stomach twists at the thought. Huh, maybe you would be more upset than you thought.

You set your comm down with a sigh, deciding to leave it for now. If he wanted to talk, he’d reach out. In the meantime, you distracted yourself the best way you knew how—watching terrible holomovies with your face buried in a bag of something sweet and delicious.

But even that wasn’t enough to settle your restless thoughts.

When the night cycle finally rolled in, you tucked yourself into bed, tossing and turning as your mind refused to quiet. Just as you were about to give up on sleep entirely and get up for a walk, the familiar chime of your comm made your breath hitch.

Whisky.

Your fingers fumbled slightly as you grabbed the device, opening the message.

Hello, please know I am very sorry that I had to cut our date short. I hope you got back to your apartment okay. We can arrange another date sometime soon.

A relieved smile tugged at your lips as you quickly typed back.

No worries, I hope everything is okay? It sounded urgent.

His response came almost immediately.

I am sure you will hear about it tomorrow. I have to go now. I hope you sleep well.

Your brows furrowed. “ Tomorrow?” You whisper to yourself.

A ripple of unease passed through you. Had something happened at work? Was it serious? Ugh, another thing to add to the list of worries.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, your fingers flew across the screen.

Before you go, what was it you wanted to tell me? Can you tell me now?

You waited.

And waited.

No reply came.

A frustrated sigh left your lips as you flopped back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, your thoughts spinning uselessly. Eventually, exhaustion won out, pulling you into sleep.

And when you dreamed, it wasn’t of uncertainty or unanswered questions.

It was of the meadow.

⋅───⊱༺  🦊 ༻⊰───⋅

The moment you stepped into work, you knew something was wrong. The air was thick with hushed whispers and tension was rolling through the hall with every clone and officers exchanging anxious glances.

Curiosity gnawed at you with every step until you finally reached your station, where you spot Thire and Stone stood by the unloved caf machine, their usual smiley expressions replaced with something far more serious.

“Hey,” you greeted, setting your things down before walking over. “What’s going on?”

“You didn’t hear?” Stone asked, his brow creasing.

“Hear what?”

“The prisoner that came in the other day, Rik Waldar?” Thire said. “Thorn gave you the file to pass to Fox, remember?”

Your mind rifled through memories of endless reports and case files. You were so used to sorting out reports of prisoners coming and going, it was really hard to keep track of. So naturally, it was foggy at first, but then it clicked. It was the paperwork you handed over after coming back from the caf run. “I think so... why?”

Stone exhaled sharply. “He escaped.”

Your stomach dropped. “ Escaped? How? Is anyone hurt?”

“Everyone’s fine,” Thire reassured you quickly. “But Fox is—”

“Losing his mind,” Stone finished with a sigh, rubbing a hand over his tired face.

You followed their gaze toward Fox’s empty desk, unease creeping down your spine. If there was ever a reason for him to be more irritable than usual, this was it.

Stone shook his head. “The worst part? We have no idea where the guy went. He vanished without a trace.”

“That’s… not possible,” you said, frowning. “Surely you can track him down?”

Thire and Stone exchanged a look, one that didn’t exactly inspire confidence.

“Apparently, he was a nightmare to find in the first place,” Thire admitted. “But we’re doing everything we can.”

Your fingers tapped anxiously against your arm as your thoughts spun. Was this what Whisky had meant? He had said you’d hear about it today. Infiltrating a ship would be a perfect way to slip away unnoticed… If you had any free time today, maybe you will go see Whisky and see if anything happened there.

You tried your best to go about your day, focusing on the usual rigmarole of tasks, but everything felt off. The tension among the clones was suffocating, stretching the hours unbearably thin. Normally, you’d be laughing at Thire and Stone bickering over something ridiculous to pass the time—but for once, they were actually working.

Like, really working.

You sat at your desk, fingers skimming over a datapad, scrolling through intergalactic news and any updates on the escaped prisoner. Re-reading his report didn’t make you feel any better—fraud, murder, theft, kidnapping. Stars, he was practically a one-man crime syndicate. What a great day to be a citizen of Coruscant.

“Find anything useful?”

You looked up to see Hound approaching, setting his helmet down on the desk beside you.

“Nah, not really,” you sighed. “Might go check out the hangar later.”

Hound stiffened, just barely, before clearing his throat. “Uh… why’s that?”

You paused. Kriff. That was a good question. It wasn’t your job to hunt down escaped criminals, and you definitely weren’t trained for it. But truthfully? You weren’t thinking about the prisoner at all.

You just wanted to see Whisky.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you hesitated. Should you tell him? What’s the worst that could happen?

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

Hound raised a brow. “Sure.”

A grin tugged at your lips. “Well… I’m kinda seeing someone.”

His expression shifted into a smirk, amused by how utterly smitten you sounded. “That’s great! Who’s the lucky guy?”

You glanced around, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. “His name’s Whisky.”

There was a flicker of something in Hound’s expression—something that didn’t sit right. His lips pulled into a smile, but it looked tight. Forced.

“Whisky, huh?” His voice was casual, but there was tension in his shoulders.

You straightened slightly, setting the datapad down. “Do you know him?”

For a second, he didn’t answer. Then he shrugged. “Only heard of him in passing.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“What? No.” He laughed, but it sounded hollow. “My head’s just preoccupied with everything going on, that’s all.”

Sure.

You didn’t quite believe him, but you didn’t feel like pressing it either. Between the prisoner, whatever secret Whisky was keeping, and now this , you were getting a headache.

“Alright,” you said, deciding to let it go. “Hey, I finally watched that holomovie you recommended.”

That seemed to do the trick. Hound perked up immediately, his tension melting away as he leaned on the desk, a smug grin overtaking his features. “Told you it was a masterpiece. Which part was your favourite?”

“Oh, definitely the part where the droid turned out to be the senator’s actual father.”

Hound barked out a laugh. “Right? That twist got me so bad the first time I watched it.”

You smirked, shaking your head as the conversation took a lighter turn. It was nice to momentarily push everything else aside, even if the questions still lurked in the back of your mind.

For the next while, you busied yourself with work, ordering supplies and tidying up, half-listening as Hound debated movie rankings with one of the other troopers. The hours stretched on, but eventually, you finally got a break.

Time to visit the hangar.

⋅───⊱༺  🦊 ༻⊰───⋅

You walk along the strip of the hangar where you last saw Whisky, scanning the area as casually as possible. There were several sections he could be in, but this was your best bet. Yet, as you search, there’s no sign of him.

Maybe he was wearing one of those mechanic helmets, blending in with the dozens of clones bustling about. You lean against the wall, eyes flicking over the sea of troopers and workers as you pull out your datapad. He still hadn’t replied to your last message, but you figured he was busy. Still, you hesitated, fingers hovering over the screen before—

“Hey, miss, everything alright?”

You glance up to see an officer approaching. He looked to be around your age, neatly dressed—almost too neat for someone stationed here. Probably new.

“Yeah, sorry, just looking for someone,” you say, keeping your voice light.

The officer doesn’t take the hint. “Anyone in particular? Maybe I could help you find her?”

You smile politely. “Him, actually. His name’s Whisky. Know him?”

Something in the officer’s expression shifts, barely perceptible, but enough for you to notice. His eyes flick around the hangar before settling back on you.

“Oh… is he a clone?”

You blink. The way he asked that felt off—like the word “clone” left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Yes,” you answer flatly, crossing your arms.

He exhales sharply through his nose, almost like a scoff, before shaking his head. “Sorry, can’t say I know a Whisky. But I could look up his CC number for you, if you’ve got it.”

Your lips press together. Of course, you didn’t know that.

Huh. He really was a hard man to track down.

The officer shrugs, clearly unbothered. “There’s a lot of clones working in this hangar. Hard to tell them apart.” His eyes linger on you, lips quirking into a grin. “But hey, if you don’t find him… you could always come looking for me instead.”

You let out a surprised laugh, unable to help yourself. At least he had confidence. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you tease, though your tone makes it clear you’re politely declining.

The officer chuckles and nods. “Well, I should get back to work. Good luck finding your guy.”

Before he turns to leave, something nags at you. A sudden thought.

“Wait,” you say quickly, making him pause. “Has anything bad happened in the hangar recently? Like… a security breach? An escaped prisoner?”

The officer furrows his brows. “No, nothing like that. No sign of any prisoner at all. From what I heard, he never even came through this section.”

Your stomach twists. Then why had Whisky run off so suddenly?

You mumble a quick thanks as the officer finally walks away, but your mind is already elsewhere, racing through possibilities.

And then—

A prickle runs down your spine. A feeling, deep and instinctual, like you’re being watched.

You glance up and not far away, standing rigid amidst the bustle of troopers, is a familiar figure clad in deep red armour. Commander Fox.

His visor is locked onto you, unreadable, unwavering.

And for reasons you can’t quite explain—your breath catches.

Before you could dwell on Fox’s prolonged stare, you quickly looked away, forcing yourself to focus on something—anything—else. Maybe he was just irritated that you weren’t in the office. You didn’t exactly have a solid reason to be down here, and if anyone would call you out on it, it’d be him.

Still, something about the way he had been watching you sent an uneasy shiver down your spine.

From the corner of your eye, you caught his attention shifting elsewhere—to Hound, who stood a few yards away, Grizzer trailing faithfully at his feet.

Hound didn’t look happy.

His brows were drawn, his jaw tight, and the way he stood—shoulders squared, fists curled at his sides—told you that whatever conversation he and Fox were about to have, it wasn’t a pleasant one.

You were too far away to hear a word of it, but the tension between Fox and Hound was unmistakable. The way Hound’s posture had stiffened, the sharpness in his gestures—it was clear whatever they were discussing wasn’t pleasant.

For a brief moment, you considered walking over. Maybe you could ease whatever was happening, smooth out whatever had both men looking so wound up. But then you thought better of it. You didn’t need to get caught up in unnecessary drama, not when you had your own tangled thoughts to deal with.

Pushing the scene aside, you turned, pulling out your datapad and tapping out a quick message to Whisky.

Hey, I’m at the hangar. Are you around?

You waited, both patiently and impatiently, fingers drumming along the edge of your device. You checked the time, realizing you’d need to head back soon—especially if Fox had already noticed you were absent.

A minute passed. No reply.

With a soft sigh, you tucked the datapad away and turned to leave.

Only to stop short.

"What are you doing here?"

You spun on your heel, a flicker of hope sparking before fizzling out when you saw not Whisky, but Fox standing before you.

"Commander," you greeted, a touch sheepish. "I was just heading back."

"That doesn’t answer my question." His voice carried that familiar sharp edge, making it clear he wasn’t in the mood for excuses.

You hesitated. You couldn’t exactly tell Fox what you were really doing here. One, your private life was none of his business. Two, the last thing you wanted was for him to go off about the escaped prisoner and accuse you of being careless.

So you lied.

"I was looking for you, actually."

His helmet tilted slightly, the only indication of mild curiosity. "What for?"

Think. Say anything.

"Do you want me to go on a caf run?"

Fox straightened, arms folding over his chest, his stance only adding to the scrutiny of the moment. "You came all the way to the hangar just to ask me that?"

You bit the inside of your cheek. "Yes," you answered smoothly.

A sigh blew past his modulator, and he slowly shook his head. "That won’t be necessary."

You nodded, shifting on your feet. "Okay then. Just thought everyone could use a pick-me-up. Especially you. "

Fox was silent for a beat before he echoed your words, tone unreadable. " Especially me?"

You hesitated. Was he genuinely asking, or was that irritation laced beneath his words? You could never quite tell.

"Well, it’s just that Stone said—"

"Stone says a lot," Fox cut you off flatly. "I’d like you to head back to your station."

His tone was sharp, but then—almost imperceptibly—it softened. "It’s… not safe, is all."

The unexpected shift made you smile slightly, nodding. "Yes, Commander. I understand."

"Good."

"Good," you repeat.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You just stood there, looking at eachother, as if something unspoken hung between you.

You cleared your throat, finally breaking the pause. "I should head back."

Fox gave a curt nod. "I’ll walk with you."

Okay... now that was unexpcted. Then again, if a prisoner was on the loose it does make you feel a touch safer.

The walk back was quiet and awkward however.

Fox's comm constantly flashed with unread transmissions, the small red light blinking again and again. You weren’t sure if he was ignoring them or just too caught up in whatever storm was brewing in his head.

You hesitated before speaking. "Do you… have a lead on the prisoner? Rik Waldar?"

His pace didn’t falter, nor did his posture shift. "You shouldn’t worry about that."

You frowned slightly but let it drop.

The hallways were unusually quiet, and for a moment, it felt like you and Fox were the only two people in the entire sector.

Then a subtle, almost imperceptible sound came from above.

A faint thump.

Your eyes flicked up toward the vents, brows creased in wonder. What was that?

Fox didn’t react. He hadn’t noticed it.

It could’ve been nothing—just the walls settling, just an old pipe shifting. You must have looked troubled because Fox suddenly spoke. "What’s wrong?"

The question surprised you. He wasn’t the type to ask things like that.

"Nothing," you said quickly, brushing it off.

He didn’t push. Just walked beside you in silence, unreadable as ever behind his helmet.

The moment you stepped back into the station, Fox said nothing—didn’t so much as glance your way—as he turned and strode off in another direction.

You watched him for a second before shaking your head and heading toward your desk. As you walked past, you caught Thire and Stone exchanging glances, clearly noticing that you’d come back with the Commander.

But, thankfully, they didn’t comment on it.

Sighing, you settled into your seat, ready to finally focus on work. Your fingers had just brushed over a datapad when your comm chimed.

You barely glanced at the screen at first, expecting some mundane notification—until you saw the name.

Whisky.

Your heart leapt, and you quickly unlocked the device, scanning the message.

Sorry for the delay. Got transferred to a different base this morning, only for a few days. Hope you don’t miss me too much.

Your heart sank just a little. A few days? That meant you wouldn’t get to see him for a while. But at least he replied. The subtle teasing in his message was also enoguh to make your heart flip. You quickly glanced around, ensuring no one was peering over your shoulder before you typed back a response.

A few days, huh? That’s a long time to go without my favorite mechanic. Guess I’ll have to find another handsome clone to keep me company…

You barely had a second to breathe before another message came through.

Rude. And here I was thinking about bringing you back a souvenir. Maybe I won’t now.

Biting your lip to contain your smile, you fired back.

A souvenir? Now you have to tell me what it is.

Nope. You’ll have to suffer.

That did it. A small giggle escaped you before you could stop it.

Immediately, Thire and Stone’s heads snapped in your direction. They were on you like a pair of kath hounds, striding over to your desk with knowing smirks.

“What’s so funny?” Thire asked, arms crossed, clearly amused.

“You’ve been awfully secretive today,” Stone added, wiggling his brows.

You quickly locked your datapad, feeling your face heat up. “Nothing, just—nothing important.”

Thire and Stone exchanged a glance, their grins widening before Stone let out an exaggerated hmm. “Maybe Hound was right.”

Your brows knitted together instantly. “Right about what?”

Before Stone could answer, Thire smacked him on the back of the head. “Ow! What was that for?”

“For running your mouth,” Thire grumbled.

“No, no, no, absolutely not,” you said firmly, sitting up straighter. “You have to tell me now.”

Stone rubbed the back of his head but gave you a teasing look. “Hound seems to think you and Fox have… a thing. ”

You blinked. Hard. “What?” You stared between them, utterly baffled, before scoffing. “Me and Fox ? Never in a million years. Where the hell did he get that idea?”

Thire looked like he wanted to stay out of it entirely, but Stone, ever the instigator, only shrugged. “No idea. He just said something seemed different between you two. Like you’re secretly together.”

You gave them both a flat, incredulous look. “Well, he’s dead wrong.”

“Yeah?” Stone smirked. “Then why were you walking back from the hangar with the Commander?”

Your mouth opened, then shut. There was no chance in all that was the Maker you were telling these two about Whisky. “I—That— That was nothing. He just… told me to go back to my station, that’s all.”

Thire sighed, rubbing his temples. “I swear, the gossip in this place is worse than a bunch of cadets.”

You huffed, shaking your head. “I can’t believe Hound actually thought that.”

Stone just grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “Hey, I’m just saying—Fox doesn’t usually go anywhere with anyone.”

You groaned, throwing your head back. “Stars, kill me now. ”

You couldn’t get your head round it. Why would Hound think yourself and the Commander had a thing? Why are the two of them arguing in the hangar? Surely that was not about you? Was it?

Then you thought about how you met Fox’s stare, how he had been watching you and the Officer. Was he…? No, no. Surely not. The last thing you can imagine is the intolerable Commander being jealous.

Today was proving too much.

Something was going on but you just couldn’t for the life of you figure out what.

Part One - 79's

Part Two - Reflection

Part Three - Sniffed Out

Part Four - Dreams

Part Five - I'll Take My Whisky Neat

Part Six - Escape

Part Seven - The Truth

Part Eight - Aftermath

Or read on AO3 here for more parts ♥️

Tags: @forcesavetheclones s @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @tentakelspektakel @stellarbit @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @greaser-wolf @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @the-bad-batch-baroness @dreamie411 @griffedeloup @501st104th212th99s @clonecyare88 @namechange-mykidfoundmyblog @mitth-eli-vanto @cloneflo99

[malk1ns]

march 15 v devils, 7-3 win

nice.

i really enjoyed geno's bizarro over-the-top penalty fugue state he went into for this one. almost like he was glitching out...

we can call this a homage to @sevenfists' wonderful tragic hockeybot geno, but not as good because like...duh.

this does contain a homophobic slur just fyi.

Evgeni has followed a fairly strict game-day protocol ever since he woke up in Pittsburgh almost 20 years ago. The details have changed, refinements and efficiencies added in as his software was upgraded, but the basics, the stuff that keeps him running at optimal performance and giving his all on the ice, have remained the same.

Most of his start-up process is automated now, thankfully. Those first couple of years he needed to be manually disconnected from his charging station and powered on every morning, and since the station was bulky and he had to charge upright all night he’d spend the first half-hour trying to loosen up his joints and walk without a hitch in his step. It also meant he had to stay at the rink—the unit was permanently installed in his maintenance room, and they only had one more extraordinarily bulky one that got lugged around for road trips. Evgeni spent a lot of mornings after Dana woke him up wandering the hallways until the rest of the guys started to trickle in.

He came back from the Olympics in Sochi with a new charging port, discreetly installed under his left armpit and USB-C compatible provided it’s connected to one of his new, portable power packs. The automated start-up patch came through shortly after, and all he had to do was program in a power-down and power-up time and he boots up all on his own.

Powering down in a comfortable position had been a revelation. Being able to do it wherever he wanted was another.

Evgeni considered buying his own house—the idea of his own space is appealing, even if he’s not quite sure what people do at home by themselves at night. He’d run a pro/con analysis, though, and asked someone to look over the results to verify the conclusion he came to: however unlikely it may be, the scenario of something going wrong when nobody is there to find Evgeni and perform emergency maintenance is an unacceptable trade-off for home ownership.

Sidney’s suggestion that Evgeni just move in with him was much more logical.

Something else that came with Evgeni’s 2014 upgrade was an unexpected, but not unwelcome, libido add-on. All part of the goal to make Evgeni and others like him more human, integrate them more into society at large. It took a few months for Evgeni to calibrate to his new desires; he’d expected a standard program, especially with his lab of origin located in Russia, but after a while he figured out he was gay.

He spent the off-season experimenting and arrived in Pittsburgh for the season with a list of likes and dislikes, and a type. Sidney almost exactly matched the latter, and based on Evgeni’s new experience he was confident that the first two items could be adjusted to suit.

He’d been right. 

Sidney has said he’s in love with Evgeni. Evgeni’s emotional response center has been upgraded on a regular basis over the years, but most of the time it seems like he’s a little…slow, maybe, or removed from how he should be feeling, such as it is.

Not about Sidney. He’s pretty sure he loves Sidney too.

Sidney also understands the value of a routine. He has his own, more rigidly engrained than anything Evgeni does on gameday, and he’s more than happy to leave Evgeni alone to boot up and run his diagnostics in peace. It’s unsettling to watch, Evgeni’s been told—his eyes go disconcertingly blank, and for a solid five minutes he’s utterly unresponsive. People get weird about it, even if they’ve seen it before. He prefers to be alone.

Mid-March in a season like this one is a grind. Evgeni’s been in for repairs more this season than the last two combined, and they might not be officially eliminated from playoff contention yet but it’s just a matter of time; motivation is hard to come by, even for Evgeni. It’s reassuring to fall into his programming and run through each system one by one, making sure he’s primed for optimal performance.

There’s a spark in the corner of his vision.

Evgeni pauses, scrolls back through lines of code, reviews. Nothing. He must have imagined it.

When he pulls himself out, he’s running a few minutes late; Sidney will be almost done with his breakfast.

Evgeni heaves himself to his feet and heads downstairs. Sidney drives on game days, so Evgeni downloads the Devils’ five most recent games to review in the car.

—

He shouldn’t need to, but Evgeni likes to top-up his charge while Sidney takes his pre-game nap. Sidney likes it too, says it feels like they’re falling asleep together; it also helps that once Evgeni’s powered down he doesn’t move, so once they’re arranged to maximize Sidney’s comfort there’s no mid-sleep jostling.

When Evgeni boots back up, he feels…weird. Wrong, lying in bed with Sidney wrapped around him like normal.

He unplugs his charger and extracts himself as carefully as he can, putting on his suit and making his way downstairs to wait until Sidney is awake and ready to drive them to the rink for the game.

Sidney frowns at him when he finally comes down, but Evgeni turns his head, and Sidney lets him be.

They make small talk in the car like usual, but Evgeni’s distracted, and eventually Sidney goes quiet. To distract himself Evgeni runs back to his source code, a well-worn self-soothing mechanism when he’s feeling jumpy or off.

The code itself is simple but effective, wrapped inside a descriptor of the reason Evgeni was made in the first place.

The modern sport of ice hockey was developed in Canada…

By the time the game starts Evgeni’s restless, shifting from foot to foot during the anthem and eyeing the opposing team with more hostility than he’s used to experiencing. 

Evgeni’s never pretended to be the cleanest player in the league. He’s sneaky with his stick, takes risky penalties because when guys hit back he doesn’t feel pain like humans do, and sometimes it works. Even for him, though, this game is tough sledding.

When his reckless double minor results in a goal against and lets the Devils draw within one, Evgeni shatters his stick in the box, then glides back to the bench with his mouth twisted in a frown. He feels—he wants to hit something, or maybe someone.

His higher processing is on alert at this aberration in behavior, but all Evgeni can do is sit on the bench, accept his new stick, and wait.

“G,” comes Sidney’s voice in his ear, and Evgeni flinches away violently—what is Sidney doing, sitting so close? Why is he pressing their legs together like that? Why is he reaching for Evgeni’s hand where it’s resting on his thigh? “Hey, you okay? You seem a little rattled; do you need a breather, maybe someone to check you out?”

“Fuck off, what you do,” Evgeni hisses, snatching his hand away. “Don’t touch me, like, what are you, a faggot? Back off.”

Crosby freezes, and Letang peers around from his other side, eyes narrowed. “What the fuck did you just say to him?”

“You fuck off too,” Evgeni snaps, half-rising with his fists clenching in his gloves, and suddenly the bot maintenance guy has an iron grip on his arm.

“Cool it, or I’m taking you back and decommissioning you here and now instead of letting you get through this game and get examined,” Freddy snaps in his ear.

Evgeni shakes his head. There’s an odd echo in his ears, metallic and hollow, and snippets from his source code keep floating into his brain—Hockey Canada announced a plan to address "systemic issues" in the culture of hockey; the early history of hockey encouraged physical intimidation and control; oh, the good old hockey game....

The rest of the game is a blur. Evgeni doesn’t cause any more goals against, even manages to put up a primary assist on the power play, but he spends his time on the bench spacing out, shrinking away from anyone who tries to talk to him as he scrolls through his coding.

The diagnostics are all still fine. Something’s wrong, though.

Evgeni spent a year in stasis while his system was flooded with hockey history and hockey culture. He doesn’t remember it very well, but those first few years had aligned pretty well with what he’d learned—hockey was rough, hockey was physical, hockey was insular and conservative and macho.

Times change. So did Evgeni, through programming and his own conclusions drawn from observing the world around him.

He seesaws between past and present, software upgrades and personality patches warring in his motherboard until he thinks he might short out. He doesn’t, obviously; there are enough redundancies built into him to keep the ISS in orbit, let alone one android on an ice rink, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling overheated and dazed by the time they troop off the ice.

Instead of walking to the locker room he turns left, toward the bot maintenance room.

He half-hears a whispered argument behind him, and shortly after it cuts off someone hurries to catch up.

“Hey,” Sidney says, and Evgeni cringes, his words from earlier rattling in his skull like they were said by someone else.

“Sorry,” he grits out. He wants to reach out and take Sidney’s hand, but the thought of someone seeing him holding hands with a man fills him with nausea. “Not sure…”

“Yeah,” Sidney says. His voice is even, flat and unsettling, but Evgeni doesn’t have room to work through that and find a fix.

Freddy’s waiting outside the room with his arms crossed. He relaxes when Evgeni rounds into view, raising his eyebrows but not commenting when Sidney follows them into the room.

“Alright, let’s get you opened up and see what’s going on,” Freddy says, gesturing to the maintenance station.

It looks like a torture chamber, a metal chair surrounded by needles and machinery and a large, ominous machine with a screen and dozens of blinking lights. Evgeni gingerly lowers himself into the seat and closes his eyes, flinching a little when the chair lifts and tilts him forward, giving Freddy access to his control panel.

It doesn’t hurt to have his panel opened, but it feels wrong, invasive and intrusive. Evgeni used to need to get strapped into the chair to stop from fighting, but now he squeezes his eyes closed and bites on his tongue and takes some of the big, soothing breaths that do nothing for the functioning of his shell but seem to settle his mind anyway.

“Fuck,” Freddy murmurs, and Evgeni’s eyes fly open. Before he can say a word, Sidney’s at his side.

“What is it?” Sidney demands, resting a hand on Evgeni’s shoulder and rubbing his thumb soothingly as he leans over to peer into the panel. “Oh, shit.”

“What!” Evgeni demands, clenching his fists. He hates this, hates feeling helpless and paralyzed while people bend over his back and stare down into his innards.

“Not sure what happened in here, bud, but you’ve got some seriously fucked-up wires. Something in here burnt out, and a few of the metal casings are fried.” Freddy touches something inside Evgeni that sends his left knee straight out in a kick. “Yeah, damn, that’s no good. You were maybe a few days from catching on fire.”

Sidney’s hand spasms on Evgeni’s shoulder. “Can you fix him?” he asks, voice low and worried.

“Oh, sure,” Freddy says, and the easy confidence in his voice is reassuring. Freddy never sounds overwhelmed, never sounds like there’s something he can’t make work. “Might take a while, I think I’ll have to boot him into safety mode for a few hours to make sure everything’s connected okay, but he should be ready to go by Tuesday’s game.”

Sidney’s exhale is shaky with relief. Evgeni wants to reach up and touch his hand. “We start now?” he says instead, keeping his eyes on the ground.

“Sure thing. When was your last backup?” Freddy asks, rummaging through his toolkit. “Sid, when you head back can you let Sully know what’s going on, tell him I’ll get everyone a full rundown once I can pull the readout?”

“Sure. And he backed up last night, so you can probably just—”

Evgeni interrupts him. “No,” he says firmly, finally gathering the courage to crane his neck and look up at Sidney’s face. “Back up now, please. Want to remember what I say.”

“Good man,” Freddy says, clapping Evgeni on his other shoulder.

Sidney crouches down so he can look Evgeni in the eye. “You didn’t mean it,” he says quietly. His eyebrows are furrowed, and there’s a frown tugging at his mouth. He’s sad, Evgeni concludes, and hurt, and he’s trying to hide it. “I mean, it’s like…you’re hurt, you pulled something out from your coding, it’s not—”

“Sid,” Evgeni interrupts, and Sidney startles. A quirk in Evgeni’s programming is that he doesn’t use nicknames unless he really makes an effort. “Doesn’t matter why, I still say. Can’t forget I do, it’s not…” He thinks, running through the relationships course he downloaded back in 2015 when the team was struggling and Sidney seemed like he was on the verge of ending things. “It’s reason, not excuse. I still need, like, accountability.”

He mangles the word, but Sidney’s small smile is worth it.

—

Evgeni doesn’t dream, exactly. When he’s powered down there’s still a flicker of awareness as long as he has battery, enough to pull himself to wakefulness if there’s a threat, but extended downtime for repairs is like floating in a thick black cloud. There’s a very distance perception of voices, of movement and hands on his shell and wires being replaced, but nothing that Evgeni can actually truly call a memory as opposed to a superimposed expectation of what happened.

The grogginess when he’s powered back on is very real, though, as is the stiffness in his knees. He hopes he’ll have enough time to loosen up before he has to play.

“Welcome back,” Freddy’s cheerful voice booms, and Evgeni winces. “You should be set. Had you walk and sit and do a few jumping jacks yesterday in safety mode, nothing else loosened up or shorted. Okay—hands?”

He walks Evgeni through the post-repairs protocol, checking his reactivity, his senses, the last things he remembers to check his backup loaded correctly. Check, check, check.

When Evgeni stumbles out of the room, blinking against the harsh overhead lights in the hall, Sidney’s waiting for him.

“Hey,” Sidney says, eyes flickering over Evgeni’s face.

“I’m so sorry,” Evgeni says immediately. The shame that rolls through him is new and unexpectedly powerful—he rarely feels embarrassed, his programming doesn’t allow for him to make choices that lead to that. When it’s working correctly, of course. “God, Sidney, you know I don’t mean.”

“I know,” Sidney says, and the caution in his voice makes Evgeni’s chest ache. “I told Kris what happened, he said he won’t kick your ass unless it happens again.”

“I let him,” Evgeni says earnestly, which makes Sidney laugh. “Promise, I stand there, he kick and scratch and do whatever, I just let.”

He reaches forward tentatively, touching his fingers to the back of Sidney’s hand. The flood of relief when Sidney turns his hand up and laces their fingers together is nearly enough to make him lose his balance.

Emotions are tricky things, Evgeni thinks, but he wouldn’t wipe them for the world.

[puppireg]

regressor ! maxine minx headcanons .ᐟ cws — discussion of religious trauma , questioning of religion , canon typical substance usage (non - graphic) , cursing , heavy talk of vent regression

maxine always had a𓈒𓈒 tense relationship with her father𓈒 high expectations , strict rules and customs and of course being the preacher 's daughter in a highly devout family , expected to follow in her father 's footsteps𓈒

for years maxine was her father 's girl , appearing on television with him a few times as she clung to his every word while he preached𓈒 practicing his mantra (' i will not accept a life i do not deserve .ᐟ') with vigor , immersing herself in her bible studies𓈒

as she got older she began to push back , coming to disdain the man who had her life planned out for her since she was little𓈒 she began to want more , dreaming of being a star on the big screen despite her father 's vehement disapproval𓈒 their relationship began to fray with maxine 's new desire to forge her own path shedding light on the more sinister side of her father and his control𓈒

due to the oppressive nature of her religious home life maxine 's own previously unwavering faith begins to warp𓈒 if God is who her father says he is , why is she still trapped ? the God she devoted herself to from the moment she was born𓈒 would He really turn her back on his maxine ?

meeting wayne pulls maxine further from her religious upbringing𓈒 he 's her ticket out , her ticket to stardom𓈒 sure , he introduces her to cocaine , alcohol , all of it𓈒 but she doesn 't give a fuck if it means she has a shot , in fact her father can take that and suck it𓈒

it 's shortly after she leaves home with wayne when maxine drops for the first time𓈒 despite her strained childhood leaving her to at times act in a childish manner , the first time she fully regresses is with wayne , when she's far too intoxicated𓈒 she's so far from where she was meant to be in the eyes of her father , the eyes of God , the eyes of even herself𓈒 it 's her first time really being away from home and she 'd never dare to give her father the satisfaction of calling𓈒 not after the way they 'd left things𓈒 both of them said things they shouldn 't have and that bridge has been officially burnt𓈒 maxine miller , the preacher 's daughter dead , gone , ripped to shreds replaced with maxine fucking minx𓈒 future movie star and fucking sex symbol if she 's allowed to say it about herself 𓈒

yet in that trailer on that night she 's her again 𓈒 maxine miller , a scrawny kid who hit puberty late and had her daddy wrapped around her finger 𓈒 the preacher 's little girl 𓈒 the feeling is a putrid one , one that scares her , makes her feel oh so ashamed𓈒 much to her chagrin all she can do is cry 𓈒 wayne , that motherfucker , laughs it off with a raise of his eyebrow𓈒 "guess someone 's had too much , huh max ?" another laugh𓈒

it 's not something they ever talk about𓈒 she wouldn't even know what to say𓈒 maxine doesn 't have the word for regression nor would she be comfortable saying it aloud , really speaking it into existence𓈒

maxine keeps her regression closely guarded , feeling ashamed , embarrassed and if she 's being quite frank confused about it𓈒 it 's not something she can control , regressing entirely involuntarily as a response to trauma𓈒 it 's not a pleasant experience for her , rather a time forcing her to come to terms with the traumas she spends so much time repressing𓈒

although her regression is pretty infrequent before the events of x , she begins breaking down & dropping more and more after𓈒 unable to process the harrowing events while in her normal headspace she tends to slip whenever she 's remembering𓈒

maxine finds a warped sense of comfort in listening to her father 's sermons , whispering along to the ones she knows by heart , tentatively voicing his mantra that has become hers𓈒 sometimes the fact that they soothe her causes anger , frustration , confusion even and she 'll often break down in overwhelmed sobs as she listens𓈒 still they soothe the little girl in her , little maxine miller𓈒

maxine doesn 't tend to play , feeling too vulnerable and exposed to do so𓈒 she doesn 't have any toys or gear nor does she necessarily want any , being unable to fully embrace and accept her regression𓈒 she still has a few items of clothing from her childhood though , her frayed overalls that still fit , her old church dress she 'd worn every sunday𓈒 regressed ! maxine can often be found in these clothes , staring wide eyed into space or humming her father 's favorite hymns𓈒

maxine tends to absentmindedly pull at her face and hair , chewing her lip till it 's raw and bloody , only noticing when she tastes blood𓈒 she has these nervous tics that follow her into her regression , some in fact which she thought she 'd left in her childhood𓈒

although typically loud and outspoken a regressed maxine is quite the opposite𓈒 timid and quiet , hardly saying a word if she can help it𓈒 her accent tends to thicken when she 's regressed , another one of her tells𓈒 though maxine is typically no bullshit and takes orders from no one , a regressed maxine is compliant and a rule follower (thinking of her 'yes ma'am' s in maxxxine with elizabeth bender she 's sooo regressed there if anyone cares𓈒)

were maxine to fully embrace her regression she 'd be the type of regressor to deny being regressed even when it 's quite obvious𓈒 maxine minx elizabeth bender girlfriendism where maxine refuses to admit she 's regressed despite elizabeth taking one look at her and Just Knowing𓈒

maxine would refuse to speak to her about her regression and would get frustrated were elizabeth to automatically slip into that carer headspace , speaking to her more softly , raising an amused eyebrow at the way max would protest𓈒 she 's quite a stubborn little thing and although it 'd embarrass her later may be prone in the moment to tantrums𓈒

maxine would hide away after behaving badly , not wanting to face elizabeth who she admires so much𓈒

despite maxine 's complicated relationship with religion , she 's kept the child 's bible her father gave her as a girl𓈒 she 'll pull it out while regressed , reading passages traced with her finger , mouth moving as she reads𓈒 reading the inscription dedicated to his little girl in his loopy cursive over and over again , careful as she can be not to smudge the ink𓈒 reading her bible can feel overwhelming , immersing herself back into the world she 'd meant to abandon𓈒

literally The preacher 's daughter (ethel cain) regressor of all time𓈒

she tends to regress between the ages of 5 and 8 , sometimes 10𓈒 she regresses to the age where her relationship with her father was at it 's height although she has trouble directly articulating that to herself𓈒

[desreads]

──── lacy. c.s.

warnings. none, just a bit of angst <3

୨ৎ

god, you hated her.

the way her strawberry blonde hair was always silky and perfectly styled, or even when it wasn't, it still looked flawless. you hated the way she always smelt like fresh vanilla, not that cheap crap you found at a target or walmart. you hated her clear skin and good sense of style. god, you hated the way her perfect teeth brightened up a room with a smile, and the way her voice was smooth like honey.

you hated the way she had chris wrapped around her finger, having him completely and unapologetically in love with her. you hated that she was completely and unapologetically in love with him, despite thinking you'd feel better if she was just stringing him along. you wanted her to be some villain, some mean girl who just used people to get what she wanted, who was using chris for her own personal pleasure.

deep down, you didn't, you knew that. you wanted chris to be happy. even if that meant you weren't.

and you really weren't.

you weren't happy when he first told you about her. they met at the gym, a place chris didn't even visit regularly because of his schedule and lack of interest to workout publicly. so he deemed the meeting as fate; that he was meant to meet her and fall in love. you weren't happy when he started spending less time with you to prioritize her as their relationship grew. you weren't happy with the amount of pda they shared whenever she'd tag along on hang outs.

you weren't happy. and you didn't know how you could be now that he was planning to propose to her.

he came around earlier before, all clammy and nervous as if he'd been over analyzing every tiny choice running through his mind that day. you, who's been his best friend ever since he first came to l.a., didn't mind letting him in to talk. you were immediately caught off guard when he pulled out a small box to show you this beautiful ring.

“what do you think? think she'll like it?” he asked with this massive grin, thinking he couldn't get any happier than this, waiting for your response as you studied the ring with wide eyes.

that should've been your ring. he should've been standing in front of someone else asking if you'd like it. he should've been planning to make you his forever. but this wasn't anybody else's fault but yours. you waited too long to tell him your feelings and by the time you finally got the courage, it was simply too late.

“god, chris, that's…” you trailed off as your eyes flicked up to meet his, and when you saw the pure excitement in them, you couldn't bear to tell him anything else than what he wanted to hear. couldn't bear to make him anything other than happy. “it's beautiful. she's gonna love it, really.”

his grin couldn't get any wider with your answer and he let you take the ring out of the box to inspect it further, watching as you eyed the tiny diamond. “i'm gonna do it this saturday. i’ve already got the whole thing planned out. i think im ready, you know? i think… i think she's the one.”

your heart felt like it shattered into a million pieces, aching with the thought of chris finding his one. once upon a time, you thought he was yours, but that was just a silly little dream. a stupid, silly, cruel little dream.

he didn't notice the signs of heartbreak in your eyes, the way your hand shook ever so slightly when you handed back the ring, the way your voice trembled as if you were holding back tears. he was too caught up with the idea of marrying the love of his life, her saying yes, making him the happiest man ever.

chris didn't even bother staying around after he told you the news and got your approval on the ring. he just hugged you goodbye and left, too eager, too wrapped up in himself to just take one look and see how much this was killing you. he did ask you before leaving, though, if you'd come to his planned engagement celebration later that night. he was so sure she'd say yes, it almost made you want to smile.

almost.

--------------

desspeaks! yallllll this may or may not be a small series... anyways