#we're just going full send and seeing how this goes

[moonlightmornings]

hannah's buddie fic recs || pt. 8 💫

i haven't read many fics post-finale but took enough time to make a solid list- like to have around 15 for each. the finale was... certainly something, left a lot of emotions behind (we're also gonna ignore this list was 2 days late 💀)

as always, if you're the author of one of these please reply and i'll tag your tumblr! and check the tags and warnings before reading!!

<- PART SEVEN: hannah's buddie fic recs

gel jail by shortndiaz | 2.3k words | mature Buck hates Eddie’s hair gel. He sentences it to a life sentence in gel jail.

king of the castle by organyx | 12.5k words | explicit Buck and Eddie challenge each other to see who can go the longest without an orgasm. Eddie’s pretty confident he can win.

the way that you hold me tight (there's no other place in the world where I rather would be) by idearlylovetolaugh | 4.1k words | mature 10 hugs throughout Buck and Eddie's relationship.

eddie diaz takes a bubble bath by @folkfae | 6.4k words | explicit Buck and Eddie buy a house, and it comes with the biggest bathtub Eddie's ever seen in his life.

loving life, a new degree by @sonofatoasterwaffle (symphonysoldier97) | 7.6k words | explicit Buck has no shortage of fantasies about Eddie. Eddie doesn't mind indulging him.

do you take this babe to be your babe? by @harrowharkwife (rhinemannultra) | 15.8k words | explicit "You like that?" Buck asks. "Like hearing about how gone I am for you, how hard it was keeping my dick in my pants on our goddamn wedding day, how you read me your vows and all I could think about, right there in front of everyone, was how much I love you and how many times I was gonna make you come for me tonight?" [...]

oh please give me time, cause i’m searching for the words to say to you by @voraciouswriter | 3.2k words | teen+ After Pepa leaves and Chris goes to bed, Eddie and Buck have a much needed conversation.

you keep my mind at ease by @autumnreignss (autumnsreign) | 6.0k words | explicit Eddie needs put out of his mind, Buck is more than happy to oblige. aka the free use fic.

you said it's my kisses (that will take this away) by touchofpurple | 3.7k words | GA Buck had plans for Chris and Eddie's return from a school trip. But that was before he had to work overtime and he found out Eddie was sick. Not that it mattered, as long as his family was united again.

object permanence by @thestigswritercousin | 4.5k words | explicit After a close call, Buck needs to feel Eddie to know that he's okay.

sun soakin' bulges in the shade by @sooperlative (soopsiedaisies) | 14.9k words | explicit Eddie loves Buck, but Buck's withholding something from him; and Buck loves Eddie, and he's just waiting for Eddie to tell him what he wants.

you're all i have by @ellewriteswrongs | 1.9k words | teen+ Bad luck Buck strikes again, this time in the form of malfunctioning equipment that sends Eddie into a panic attack full of memories of the worst night of his life.

no more running by zanekeller | 5.1k words | explicit Eddie’s parents think they can take Christopher away. Buck thinks they can burn in hell. Somewhere between breaking down and breaking open, Eddie figures out that home has been waiting for him all along in Buck’s arms.

i'll make the world stop for you by bethywrites | 2.8k words | NR Eddie’s fought in wars and survived being shot. He’s pretty sure he can survive a little headache.

the comfort of your hands by @spotsandsocks | 2.9k words | teen+ Buck accidentally starts running his fingers through Eddie’s hair. Eddie lets him and things slowly move towards something special.

[paramountinplace]

Do you do fic requests? I’ve seen people send in asks and you wrote em but idk if those were special cases or no :/

If not, perhaps a little!dyslexic!van fic?? Maybe where she’s doing big girl stuff in public and struggling with her dyslexia and a stranger is mean abt it? Then some hurt/comfort when she goes home?

It’s okie if not, thanks for taking the time to read this! I love your writing so much!!! Have a great day/night :33333

Ophtha-what-now? - Little!Van

Summary: Having to take care of her eye doctor's appointment alone gives Van a tough time. Inspired by the above request! (Anon thank you so much for giving me an excuse to write more about dyslexic!Van. I take fic requests/asks as long as the ask box is open!) More notes at the end

On Van's list of how she wanted to spend her time today, huddling in the corner of a dingy eye doctor's waiting room with a clipboard full of paperwork was at the absolute bottom. She'd arrived to her appointment almost half an hour early so that she'd have time to muddle her way through the mess of forms and documents she had to complete for the doctor, but as her appointment time crawled closer and closer, she was still struggling to get through the last couple sheets.

Tai had given her a few notecards with some of the more important information that she tended to forget, like their insurance number or the date of her last appointment. Normally, Tai would just come with her and do all the wordy stuff, but she'd had to stay home with a fussy Mari, who'd been throwing tantrums all morning.

Squinting down at the paper, which was so bright under the fluorescent lights that her eyes burned, she tried to make sense of the last question on the form. For some reason, the letters were italicized, which only made deciphering the meaning of the sentence even harder. She could make out all the words, but what exactly the question was asking, she wasn't quite sure. Blowing out a long breath, she decided she'd just fill it out later if it was really so important.

She fingered the green notecard that had her current perscription penned neatly onto it. Wearing her glasses was something she tried to avoid, but she had to sometimes when her left eye was really bugging her. For months, she'd ignored her general practitioner's advice to see an eye doctor for the eye that had been affected by the attack, but Tai had put her foot down when she realized how much Van favored her other eye.

"Vanessa Palmer?"

The name sent an unpleasant shiver down her back, but she stood and tried to give the nurse a smile.

"Just back this way," the woman said briskly, taking the clipboard from her hands. She flipped through the pages as they walked, which made Van's stomach twist anxiously as she waited to be corrected on one or several mistakes. The nurse, whose name tag read Susan, directed Van into a chair surrounded by metal instruments.

"Can you confirm your current perscription for me?" Susan asked as she took a seat by a computer in the other corner.

"Um," Van scrabbled for her green notecard. She could never remember which number belonged to which eye. "Here."

The look Susan gave her as she handed over the notecard made her want to leap to her feet and sprint out of the room, but she swallowed the feeling down and watched as Susan's fingers clacked over the keyboard.

"Honey, some of these responses don't match with the answers you gave last time, so I'd like to go through them again just to make sure we're on the same page, okay?"

Susan's tone was nice enough, but she was looking at Van like she thought she was rather daft, which made her stomach turn over horribly. She could feel her face heating up as Susan read out a bunch of questions and her responses, moving her pen slow over the words as if it was going to help Van see through the film of tears that kept coming to her eyes. By the time they'd gotten the paperwork all sorted out, the doctor was knocking on the door and Susan sighed as she finished inputting the information into the computer.

"Good luck, doc," she murmured as she walked out of the room. Van was pretty sure she wasn't supposed to have heard that, so she tried not to let the hurt show on her face as Dr. Simmons gave her a polite smile.

The rest of the appointment went smoothly enough. Reading out the letters on the eye chart wasn't so bad because they were all capitals.

Beyond that, her vision hadn't changed much and Dr. Simmons didn't seem to worried when she mentioned eye pain.

"Do you squint when you read?" He asked, peeling off his gloves as Van stood. She nodded. "That would explain it, especially if it's going away so quickly. And, Vanessa, I'd be happy to refer you to a specialist that deals with things like dysl—"

"That's fine, thanks," she cut him off.

She hurried down the hallway before he could say anything else. She let out a breath when she reached the check-out windows, relieved that there was nobody else waiting. All she wanted was to get back home.

A man waved her up to the counter and rattled off the usual end-of-appointment spiel as she nodded and tried to pay attention. Most of what he said flew in one ear and out the other, but she'd just have Tai go over the paperwork with her when she got home.

The issue came when he asked her how she was paying and she fished out the card Tai had tucked in her pocket before she left the house that morning. Swiping it through the reader revealed that it needed a code, which she knew was somewhere on one of her notecards.

As she shuffled through them, growing more and more anxious as she failed to find the exact combination of numbers that she needed amongst all the other information, she heard someone clear their throat behind her.

"I'm sorry, is there a problem?"

Van flushed, trying not to let the tears that pressed insistently at the backs of her eyes spill over.

"Sorry," she murmured, pressing a hand to her forehead. The man on the other side of the counter bit his lip.

"Ma'am, how about I help you over here?" He beckoned to the lady behind Van, scooting over to the next window. She huffed and clicked her way up to him, giving Van an annoyed look as she passed.

Her hands shook as she shuffled through the cards Tai had given her, searching desperately for the red ink that was the number code for the card she was supposed to use. She finally caught a flash of red on the bottom of one of the cards, punching it in to the machine as she tried to surreptitiously wipe her eyes. The machine beeped at her, flashing a red X on the screen and her stomach sunk. Maybe Tai had written the number down wrong. Or, more likely, she was getting the numbers jumbled again.

The man scooted back over to her window after finishing up with the other woman. He looked slightly confused when he realized Van still hadn't completed the transaction, but he didn't say anything when she shoved the card across the counter at him.

"The number, um, is on the button—bottom there," she told him shakily.

He punched in the number and the screen spun in a loading circle for way too long before it switched to the words indicating the payment had gone through.

"You're all set," he said, sliding a few papers across the counter at her.

"Thanks," she choked out, grabbing them and barely managing not to break out into a run as she fled the office.

...

The front door slammed shut and Tai winced, hoping it had been the wind and not a frustrated Van.

"Hey, Van," she called out, waiting for the redhead to come into the sitting room. "How'd it go?"

When she got no response, her stomach sank.

"Mar, wanna watch a show?" She asked, already guiding the girl to her feet and over to the couch. Mari, technically, had gotten her television time taken away for throwing a pony toy at Shauna over breakfast, but Tai needed her occupied while she dealt with Van.

Mari accepted the remote excitedly and Tai patted her head before hurrying over to the foyer.

Van hadn't moved off the doormat, a sheaf of papers clenched in one hand as she wiped frantically at her face with the other.

"Oh, kiddo," Tai murmured. Van's head shot up and her expression crumpled when she saw Tai, a sob spilling out of her mouth as she stumbled forward into her arms. Her body trembled as she pressed her face into Tai's shoulder, muffling her cries in her sweater. Tai stroked a hand over her hair, shushing her softly as she swayed them back and forth rhythmically.

"Let's sit," she said gently, guiding Van to sit next to her on one of the steps leading upstairs. She kept an arm around Van's shoulders, but tried to catch her eyes once they were seated. "How do we feel about a choice right now?"

Van shook her head, face already screwing up with overwhelm and Tai shushed her again, smoothing her thumbs over wet cheeks.

"Shh, it's okay. Are you hurt?"

Shake.

"Did you have a hard time at the doctor?"

Nod.

Van sniffled, her breath catching in her throat as she did. She looked exhausted, gnawing on the inside of her cheek harshly.

"Do we need to talk about any of it right now?"

Van shoved the paperwork at Tai instead of answering, burying her face in her knees as she did. She rocked her body back and forth a little as Tai skimmed over the papers, rubbing a hand in wide circles over Van's back as she did. Nothing seemed out of place or glaringly urgent, so she decided they could talk about it another time, when Van wasn't so small and upset. Among the papers were the notecards she'd filled out for Van that morning, crumpled and spotted with the occasional tear-stain. She winced sympathetically, heart panging. The visit must've really been rough if it had caused Van to cry in public.

"Okay, baby," she started, keeping her voice low and even. "Mari's watching a show in the sitting room right now. How about you come lay down on the couch with me?"

Van gave no response other than another shudder as she sucked in a breath, still shakey from crying. Tai slid off the step to crouch in front of Van, gently tipping her chin up so she could look at her.

Lay down?

She made the sign for it with her hands and pointed to the sitting room. The sign language, an idea presented to them by Nat, was a way of communicating for Van that didn't confuse the same processors in her brain that words and letters did.

Van nodded slowly, still chewing at the inside of her cheek as Tai guided her upright. She opted to let the habit go for now, focused more on getting Van cozied up.

Mari sat up with they entered the room, eyes going wide when she saw Van, mouth already opening for what Tai was sure was going to be a slew of questions that neither of them were prepared to do with.

"We're gonna have some quiet time, okay, Mar? If you can give me two whole episodes of your show without making too much noise, I'll let you pick dinner tomorrow," she bargained.

Mari nodded obediently, obviously excited at the prospect and she slumped back down against the cushions chewing on the end of her braid.

Van was pliant as Tai guided her down onto the couch, pulling her knees into her chest as her head came to rest against Tai's legs. She flipped so she was facing away from the television, burying her face in Tai's stomach as one of her hands grasped at the hem of her sweater.

Tai slid a hand into her hair and let out a relieved breath when Van's shoulders relaxed at the gesture. Pride flooded through her when she realized Van was taking deep breaths all on her own, tapping out the counts with her foot as she did.

"Good girl," she whispered.

Van's body went limp within minutes and Tai didn't have to tip her head back to check if she was asleep. She could tell by the way Van's other hand had migrated up to her mouth and that she didn't protest when Tai stopped scratching at the base of her neck.

She realized she'd left Van's paperwork on the stairs, but she figured if anyone saw it, they'd either leave it alone or move it to a better place. A glance over at Mari found the other girl still entranced by her television show and Tai let out a long breath. Everything's fine, she told herself, unable to resist moving Van's head just a little so she could look at the girl's face.

It was hard to see Van like this. It was bad enough when she got frustrated with her dyslexia at home, but when it happened out in public, away from Tai, it was a whole new kind of helpless feeling.

She's okay now, her brain reminded her.

Resisting the urge to let out another sigh, Tai let her head fall back against the couch cushions. Maybe she could catch a few minutes of shut-eye as well. A few minutes before everyone else got home and Van woke up and the house erupted in choas again. The last thing she thought before she dozed off was that Van had left wearing her glasses and came back without them.

Nuts.

This went differently than I expected, so let me know if you'd like a redo, anon! I'd be happy to give it another shot haha. Otherwise, I hope it was what you were wanting!

[mx-t4t0]

Before I say anything, I need to stress that I don't mean to demean OP or encourage harassement towards him, anyone who sends them hate over this will not see the light of heaven.

With that said, this defense holds very little water for multiple reasons.

I want to go over the OG Hollyberry art first, just to point out what we're supposed to be working with in terms of proportions.

I tried to balance working within the constraints of the lineart and still sticking to a silhouette that would look visually appealing. I can't just draw straight lines for her legs and hope for the best, that would make her thigh gap go from accurate to her being obviously stanced up to straight up comically wide. CR as a franchise as a whole makes heavy use of shape language and leans heavily on it to make the designs look as appealing as they do with so little screen space, so I'm willing to meet it where it's at on this level. (1) By extra heft, I mean she's probably wearing undergarments with some kind of padding. It feels like the most realistic choice to make both for comfort (why would you wear armor with no padding underneath) and protection (underlayers will absorb shocks better), and even if they're cookies, we know there's a certain amount of thought that goes into what they wear under all those clothes. It's the reason we know Espresso wears a button down and suspenders under his robes and cape.

But even THEN, even with all those adjustments that make my take on her approximate silhouette under her outfit "skinnier" than she looks with all those assumed layers on, you can tell she's Wide. Like, wide in the purest sense of the word. She's a brick wall, because she's a tank and has to be buff for it, and because hollyberries are round so it's a pretty fair translation to make for what Is essentially a gijinka with extra steps. Shape language!

But ok, maybe my assumptions are wrong! Like I said, her outfit probably adds a lot of width, maybe she's skinnier underneath. If only we had something to reference that gives us a better look at what she looks like without all that extra fluff.

Oh wait!

We have both glimpses at a young Hollyberry who wears a significantly simpler outfit, and at Hollyberry out of her fancy fluffy dress during the "Legend of the Red Dragon" story. So we have both a confirmation for how big her torso and arms are, but also how big her legs are.

Now, I don't think I need to defend my idea that it's fair to assume that she got bigger than she was as a teen, but even then, To Me at least, it seems like she was the biggest of the five ancients. The only one who even comes close is Dark Cacao, and I might be wrong, but looking at their art from might of the ancients, she could be more buff than him. Even if there's more Dark Cacao under the cape, it couldn't be that much.

I will admit myself that this is more of a half-point than a full argument, both because I haven't taken the time to break down either of these drawings, and because this isn't Hollyberry as we see her now as of the Paradise of Passion and Sloth update. I just thought it was interesting to point out.

The same cannot be said for her appearance during the Legend of the Red Dragon storyline. This is adult Hollyberry, with the same body type we would expect her to have in any story set in modern times in the game.

Not only does this give us a better look at how big her legs are, essentially telling me that I myself was lowballing because the poses and the size of her legs under her dresses usually make them seem skinnier, it also once again reaffirms that shes very top-heavy .

Now to that outline from the trailer, because the angle isn't as strong as it pretty obviously is on the statue. I decided to outline her silhouette myself, but also to compare my results to OP's, because to be honest, the whole reason I'm doing this is because I found OP's take on the outline kind of inaccurate to the art itself.

Lo and behold, it is in fact too generous and makes the absolute state of this trailer look better than it really is. Whether they meant to or not, they made her skinny! And I'm 99% sure they also whitewashed her, accidentally or not. That's not how lighting works, this website has been over this. Her dough looks way too pale in contrast to the hot pink of her armor that is almost certainly supposed to be the same hot pink as the outline of her shield. Even if the difference is perceptual, the end-result is the same, and this should have been fixed before it was posted.

It's even more obvious putting all of these in order side by side (using her head as the point of reference for size), something is wrong and no amount of pose or angle differences is going to make it untrue. Her new body type is comparable to Financier, who is maybe a little wider than the average cookie (don't quote me on that, part of it might just be her pauldrons throwing me off), but still pretty standard.

I don't know if they made her taller, that could be the angle, but I know they definitely made her look skinnier!

Conclusion: they did fuck her up‼️😔☹️

I also don't need to point out that saying Hollyberry can't have been slimmed down because she's still bigger than Espresso is barely an argument. Espresso is twink cookie supreme, it doesn't take much for a character to be wider than him. Like, speaking of Financier, who is once again a pretty good average, you can clearly tell Espresso is on the thinner side of the scale when you compare him to her.

That not how it works. It's like if I called myself a bear because I'm bigger and hairier than my twink girlfriend. Come on now.

In light of all this.

I am Still hopeful that the sprite itself will follow her body type more accurately. Staying on model is a bit more difficult when it comes to frame by frame animation (like the trailer we saw) compared to static sprites, and since the overworld animations are tweened from sprite-accurate art, I don't see why they would go out of their way to maker her more skinny in her awakened form in the game itself. It would be more effort just to do something quite frankly... shitty. Slimming down characters on purpose is shitty. I don't think they'd go out of their way to do this on purpose. The statue can't really be defended in the same way because it's a static drawing, and a fully rendered one at that, and one has to wonder how the artist(s) that worked on this didn't notice they were terribly off-model. Bad art practices; follow your refs.

However, and this is why people are making a fuss about all of this in the first place, we are allowed to expect better from Devsisters. There is no way giving Hollyberry her body type in the last chunk of this trailer would have taken longer than it did when she was slimmed down. It's the same amount of work, and they should be working with references on hand anyways. Something went wrong, and what we got is worth being mildly upset over. With all the ressources Devsisters has, they could have easily double-checked and fixed this before releasing it.

TL;DR: They're off-model. There's no other way to put it. They're off-model and this is a ridiculous outlier considering how well they usually follow Hollyberry's usual body type, regardless of angles or outfits. We are allowed to ask for more than this; why are we glazing a multi-million dollar game company.

So I heard some people were complaining that the leaks behind Hollyberry's Awakened form somehow "made her skinnier" or "she looks thinner" and I am here to help clear up this misconception as Hollyberry is my absolute favorite ancient and it hurts that people are making quick assumptions about her new awakened form that isn't even officially introduced yet.

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Before I start, obvious spoiler warning for CRK leaks down below! If you don't wanna see leaks then please do not click the 'read more'

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A few days ago, some recent leaks have came out revealling Hollyberry's Awakened form via the next Kingdom Arena seasonal statue. While the design was met with a lotta positive reception, some people have mistakenly viewed the new awakened form as being "skinnier" than her original form, which is just not true if you give the statue another look.

I went to the image in question and outlined the overall shape of her body in this statue, and the result I got was interesting.

As you can see here, while not exactly being fat fat, she very clearly is more built compared to the likes of the average cookie. She's got a wider frame (particularily in the upper area), defined muscle, and overall has a little more dough baked into her, giving her the broader figure. She is NOT skinny in the slightest, awakened or not. If you think she looks skinnier, it's most likely because of the perspective of the statue making her look that way.

If you need more evidence showing that this has been her body type and that she's not been changed in the slightest, then look no further than her appearance in The Legend of the Red Dragon campaign

Despite the heavy armor she is wearing, you can trace out a very similar, if not, the same silhouette as the one I traced out from her awakened form.

I think where people get the conception that her figure is much larger than it actually is is from her default ballroom dress which naturally has a much puffier look, giving her a wider frame. So notably when you remove the ballroom dress in favor of more heavy armor, she is gonna look a bit different.

Nevertheless, armored or not, her figure is always gonna be represented as this bulky, strong woman.

Now, if you REALLY need a body comparison between her and an ACTUAL skinny cookie to help you out, look no further than the average cookie. Let's take Espresso as an example.

Slim figure, no muscle, no broader mass anywhere on the body. THAT is what a skinny cookie looks like.

Hopefully this post clears some things up. Don't worry, they didn't do anything to her body guys, she's still the big, beautiful queen we all know and love ^^' And don't let this post stop you from seeing her anymore plus sized. I myself imagine her to be a big, chubby strong woman, so keep up with your headcanons <3

Thank you for listening and have a nice day/night.

[rcbdo]

mess it up

sakusa kiyoomi x miya atsumu x f!reader

part four - masterlist

word count: 1,561

tw: implied history of abuse, injury - mention of blood

It was late in the evening when Sakusa Kiyoomi finally woke up. He reached over and found Atsumu’s side of the bed cold and undisturbed. He rolled his eyes; the idiot was probably still at the gym, undoubtedly pushing himself too far. Atsumu rarely took matters of health and wellbeing seriously, much to Sakusa’s chagrin.

A pleasant aroma had filled the apartment. As Sakusa rubbed his eyes, he picked up on rustling sounds coming from the kitchen. Maybe Atsumu was home after all.

Sakusa slipped on his sweatpants before making his way down the hall. Sure enough, something was being prepared. The savory aroma seemed to awaken Sakusa’s appetite; he hadn’t eaten much today. He smiled softly at the humming coming from around the corner.

He took another step forward, then froze.

It wasn’t Atsumu.

It was you.

He frowned, frustrated to find himself alone with you again. It’s not that he didn’t like you; in fact, he was surprised how much you had grown on him in these past weeks. No, it was the longing within him that frustrated him. He was finally happy. He loved Atsumu and the life they had built together. But something in him yearned to reach out to you, to be something more. And that terrified him.

Lost in his own thoughts, Sakusa didn’t think to announce his presence. You turned, and shrieked in surprise.

Sakusa started as well, first at your scream, then at the sound of the wine glass you held shattering across the floor.

After glaring down at the mess, his eyes returned to you, looking like a deer in headlights.

“I’m so—” you began.

“What the hell?” Sakusa snapped, trying to control his temper. It was an accident, he knew that. But he was sick, and tired, and now had this mess to deal with.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, shrinking further back. “I’m really sorry. I’ll clean this up now.”

You crouched down and began to pick up pieces of broken glass. Sakusa noticed you trembling. Fuck, he hadn’t meant to startle you so badly.

He exhaled, taking a moment to compose himself. “Here, let me help,” he said as he stepped into the small space.

“It’s ok, I’ve got it,” you said, your voice strained.

Sakusa continued forward, reaching his longer frame over you to pick up a towel from the counter.

“No!” you cried out as he loomed over you. Sakusa watched, horrified, as you hurried to scramble away from him. Right through the shattered glass.

He froze. Again. His mind was racing, but he could seem to form coherent thoughts.

You were huddled in the corner now, clutching your wounded hand against your chest. Tears began to slip down your face, but your eyes never left him.

“Why did you—are you ok?” he finally managed to ask.

“I’m sorry. Just give me a second. I’ll clean it up,” you replied meekly.

“It’s ok,” Sakusa said softly, crouching down to your level. “Can I look at your hand? That looks pretty bad.”

You looked down at your hand, eyes widening as if you were just now registering the injury. Blood had already begun to drip down your forearm.

“It’s ok,” Sakusa repeated, feeling like he was talking down a skittish animal. “I have a first aid kit, but you may need stitches. Can I take a look?”

He inched himself forward, but you immediately flinched. He paused, not knowing what to do. Were you really that scared of him?

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, then rushed past him and down the hall before he could register what was going on.

He jumped up to follow you, but heard the bathroom door shut and the lock click.

Still, he tried the doorknob. Sakusa called your name, knocking gently on the door.

“Please. I just want to help.”

No response.

Sakusa paced back in forth in front of the door. He tried to get you to respond a few more times, to no avail. He then glanced back and noticed drops of blood on the floor. Should he break down the door? What if you lost too much blood and passed out?

As Sakusa’s thoughts began to spiral, he knew he had to act. He ran back to the bed room and grabbed his phone, calling Atsumu. You were his friend, his ex, after all. He would know what to do.

No answer.

Sakusa dialed again.

Still no answer.

He tried a third time and felt like throwing his phone against the wall at the sound of Atsumu’s stupid voicemail greeting.

My name is Miya Atsumu. I’m your favorite volleyball player’s favorite volleyball player. And I’m serving exactly what you are. Cu—*beep*

“Atsumu, call me back as soon as you get this,” Sakusa seethed, then hung up to text him the same message. Atsumu was notorious for neglecting his phone during practice. Who knows when he would respond. Sakusa had to figure something else out.

Osamu was his second choice, but he was all the way back in Hyogo. Sakusa pinched the bridge of his nose and made another call.

“Hey cuz!” Motoya answered cherrily. “What’s up?”

“Hi. Do you have Suna’s number?” Sakusa asked, cutting straight to the chase.

“Uh, yeah. I can text it to you. Is everything ok?” Motoya asked warily.

Sakusa hesitated. The situation felt like something you wouldn’t want shared with strangers, but he was in way over his head. He needed guidance, and he trusted Motoya. He quickly relayed the situation, keeping his voice low so you wouldn’t overhear.

“Shit, that does sound bad,” Motoya replied, “Good call on reaching out to Suna, he always has his phone on him. I’ll text you his number and let him know to get in touch with you.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” Sakusa sighed, feeling relieved to have a plan coming together.

“Of course. Do you need me to come over?” Motoya offered.

“No, not right now. I don’t want to make it worse,” Sakusa answered.

There was a pause, then Sakusa phone buzzed as Suna’s contact information came through.

“There’s Suna’s number,” Motoya said, “And Omi—I know you’re trying, but be gentle with her, ok?”

Sakusa’s heart clenched. Even Motoya, a complete stranger to you, showed more compassion than he had been able to.

“Yeah. Thanks again,” Sakusa said before hanging up. He slumped against the wall and took a deep breath, glancing back at the closed door. You still hadn’t emerged, or made a single sound for that matter.

Before Sakusa could spiral further, his phone began to vibrate.

“This is Saku–”

“What did you do?” Suna Rinatoru asked harshly.

“I don’t know!” Sakusa snapped, then quickly lowered his voice. “I don’t know. I startled her, then tried to help clean up a broken glass and startled her again. She literally crawled through the glass to get away from me, Suna. Now she’s locked herself in the bathroom, and Atsumu won’t answer his goddamn phone, and I don’t know what to do!”

“Fuck, ok, calm down,” Suna replied, his tone much softer, “I’m leaving now, I’ll be there in 15 minutes. Can you slide your phone under the door? Or put me on speaker?”

“Yeah, I can put you on speaker,” Sakusa said as he stumbled towards the door. He knocked gently, then set his phone down.

“Hey, Baby,” Suna said, using the nickname Sakusa didn’t have the courage to employ himself. “I’m coming over, alright. You doing ok?”

The silence between the two men was thick.

“Uh...can she hear me?” Suna asked.

“I think so,” Sakusa whispered back. He could hear the sounds of the city in the background as Suna made his way towards the train station.

“Hmm. Oh! One tap on the door for you’re ok, two taps for you’re not ok,” Suna suggested. Sakusa held his breath, hoping you would answer. Hoping that you were ok, and not bleeding out alone on the floor. He needed you to be ok so he could fix this.

Tap tap tap

Sakusa straightened up, then looked down at his phone.

“Did I hear three taps?” Suna asked.

“Yeah. What does that mean?” Sakusa asked.

“I dunno man, I didn’t make up a code for three knocks. Babes, you lose too much blood in there?”

Tap tap

“Should I take that as no you didn’t lose too much blood or no you’re not ok?” Suna asked worriedly.

Tap

“Ask yes or no questions,” Sakusa huffed.

“You ask them, man! You’re there,” Suna snapped back, “Geez, she was probably telling you to fuck off.”

Tap

Sakusa’s eyes widened. Suna chuckled over the phone.

“Baby’s got jokes, then. Sakusa, I’m hanging up and getting on the train. I’ll be there in a few minutes. It’s gonna be ok.”

Sakusa ended the call, then stared at his reflection in the blank screen. He realized how intensely his brows were knitted, which probably wasn't helping his pounding headache. He took a deep breath, trying to ground himself before even more chaos ensued.

In the silence of the apartment, Sakusa hoped. He hoped Suna could help you. He hoped Atsumu would come home and smooth things over. He hoped you would be ok. But most of all, he hoped he hadn't irrevocably messed up what was between you before it even had a chance to start.

[fazcinatingblog]

I think I had a dream that Mason Cox had a girlfriend and I don't know why my subconscious would send me something like that and

[satellite-evans]

all I need

Pairing: Lando Norris x driver!reader

Summary: Lando gets furiuos when you get fined for swearing after your crash.

Word count: 2.9k+

Warnings: fluff, swearing, injuries, angry lando

Request : Hi could I please request a lando x reader fic where the reader is a driver and she gets in a big crash and the team radio is like asking if she is okay and shes like answers after a bit and is in pain because she just CRASHED and then she accidentally swears on radio and she gets fined and the media is going crazy and like lando is just being a good protective boyfriend and is defending her in interviews and stuff? Thanks!! xoxo - anon 🍟

A/N:

Hi love, thank you so much for sending in a request and trusting me enough to write your idea!! I hope I did it justice xxx

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

One moment, everything is fine—you’re fighting for position, pushing the car to its absolute limit, heart pounding with adrenaline as you navigate the treacherous corners. The next, it all goes horribly wrong.

The rear tires lose grip. A sharp twitch, then a full spin. Time slows, but your mind races. Your hands react on instinct, desperately trying to correct, but it’s too late. The world outside the cockpit blurs in a sickening whirl of colors—track, barriers, sky. Then nothing but gut-wrenching weightlessness as the car lifts off the ground.

The impact is catastrophic. Metal shrieks against metal, carbon fiber shatters like glass. The force slams through your body, rattling bones, squeezing air from your lungs. Pain flares—sharp, immediate—radiating from your ribs, your shoulders, your skull as the cockpit jolts to a brutal stop. Static crackles in your helmet.

For a moment, everything is eerily still. Your pulse roars in your ears, drowning out the stunned gasps from the crowd, the commentary scrambling to make sense of what just happened. Your breath is ragged, shallow. The world tilts nauseatingly around you.

Then, the radio buzzes to life.

"Y/N, Y/N, are you okay?!" David's voice is urgent, bordering on frantic. There’s a tightness to it you’ve never heard before, and that alone terrifies you more than the crash itself.

You try to respond, but pain flares when you shift. A groan escapes before you can stop it. Your fingers fumble for the radio button, and when you finally manage to press it, your voice comes out weak, breathless.

"Fuck—yeah, I think so." A cough, a wince. "That hurt."

Across the track, in his car, Lando watches it all unfold in real-time. His stomach drops, breath catching as he sees your car crumple against the barriers. His knuckles go white around the steering wheel, heart hammering painfully against his ribs. The images flash across the big screens, slow-motion replays dissecting the crash from every angle. He can’t tear his eyes away.

Is she okay? Is she responding?!" His voice is laced with panic, the desperation evident.

His race engineer hesitates. "We're waiting on confirmation, Lando. Focus on the race."

But how the hell is he supposed to do that? The car, the track, the championship—all of it fades. Right now, none of it matters except you.

His grip on the steering wheel tightens. "Please—can you keep me updated? I need to know if she's okay." His voice wavers just slightly, the emotion threatening to spill over.

A pause. Then, softer, "We will, Lando. Just focus for now."

He exhales sharply, forcing himself to keep driving, but his eyes keep flicking to the screens around the circuit, searching for any sign of movement from you. His heart pounds as he waits—praying to hear your voice again.

A beat of silence stretches after your message. Then, Race Control’s voice cuts through.

"Y/N, reminder that all radio transmissions are broadcasted live. Watch the language."

Despite everything, a strained, breathy laugh escapes you. "Yeah, yeah, noted. Ow."

The medical car is already pulling up, orange lights flashing, marshals swarming the wreckage. You can hear them shouting, their voices urgent but professional. Someone taps on the side of your cockpit, checking for a response. Your fingers twitch, slow and uncoordinated, but you give them a thumbs-up.

The crowd, stunned into silence, exhales as one. The commentators try to fill the dead air with reassurances, but the tension is thick. On social media, the crash is already going viral—clips looping endlessly, speculation running rampant.

The straps of your harness dig into your bruised shoulders as the adrenaline begins to wear off, replaced by a dull, spreading ache that makes every breath feel like a struggle. The world around you is a cacophony of noise—sirens wailing, the frantic chatter of the marshals, the dull roar of the crowd beyond the barriers—but it all feels distant, muffled by the ringing in your ears.

"Try not to move too much," one of the medical staff instructs gently, his gloved hands already working to unbuckle you from the mangled remains of your car. "Can you feel everything?"

You give a small, shaky nod. "Yeah," you breathe, wincing as you shift slightly. "Just sore. Really sore."

The relief on his face is immediate, but the tension in the air remains. They move carefully, extracting you from the cockpit as gingerly as possible. As soon as you're free, your knees threaten to buckle, but strong arms catch you before you hit the ground.

"You’re alright, we’ve got you," another voice reassures, steadying you as they guide you toward the waiting medical car. The flash of cameras in the distance, the low hum of anxious murmurs from the pit lane—it all feels surreal.

The moment the checkered flag waves, Lando doesn’t care about anything else. Not the debrief, not the podium celebrations—none of it matters. His car screeches to a halt in parc fermé, barely lined up properly, but he’s already halfway out before the engine even fully shuts down. His hands rip off his steering wheel, then his helmet, tossing it aside as he breaks into a full sprint toward the medical center.

His lungs burn, but he doesn’t slow down. The only thing driving him forward is the sheer panic gripping his chest. His mind replays the crash on an agonizing loop—the way your car crumpled, how long it took for you to respond, the thought of losing you was eating him alive. He pushes past team personnel, ignoring their calls, shoving the medical center doors open with enough force to make them slam against the walls.

"Where is she?" His voice is sharp, almost desperate.

A nurse barely has time to react before he spots you. Sitting on the edge of the examination bed, bruised and battered, your race suit scuffed with streaks of dirt and dried blood. Your arm is wrapped around your ribs, and there’s a gash just below your glove, crimson seeping through the fabric. Your right knee is swollen, and every inhale looks like it stings.

But you’re alive.

Lando exhales a shuddering breath, his entire body sagging with relief. He crosses the room in seconds, reaching you like you might disappear if he doesn’t move fast enough. Without hesitation, he takes your hand, gripping it tightly like an anchor. His fingers ghost over your bruised knuckles, his touch impossibly gentle.

"Jesus, Y/N…" His voice is hoarse, cracking under the weight of the fear still clinging to him.

You manage a small, tired smile despite the pain. "I’m fine. Trust me, it’s not as bad as it looks."

His jaw clenches, eyes scanning you like he doesn’t quite believe you. "Not as bad as it looks? You scared the hell out of me. Don’t do that again. Ever."

The intensity of his words makes your chest tighten—not just from the bruises, but from the raw emotion behind them. You squeeze his hand, grounding him.

Later, after the doctors clear you—bruised ribs, mild concussion, but nothing broken—you limp out of the medical center, Lando’s arm wrapped protectively around your waist. Every step sends a dull ache through your body, but at least you’re standing.

David intercepts you, shifting awkwardly on his feet. "So, uh… don’t shoot the messenger, but you’re getting a fine for the team radio."

You blink. "You’re kidding, right?"

Before David can even answer, Lando scoffs, disbelief flashing across his face. "She just survived a high-speed crash, and they’re fining her for swearing? Seriously?"

David sighs, handing over the paperwork with an apologetic shrug. "Yeah… FIA wasn’t too happy. Regulations and all."

You stare at the notice for a beat before letting out a tired, incredulous laugh. "Yeah, okay. Next time I crash at 200 mph, I’ll be sure to say ‘gosh darn it’ instead."

Lando shakes his head, jaw tight with frustration. "Unbelievable."

But instead of dwelling on it, he just pulls you in closer, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. The warmth of his embrace eases some of the lingering tension in your body. "Don’t worry about it, love. If they want to fine you for being human, let them. You’re still the toughest person I know."

You smile, leaning into him, exhaustion settling deep in your bones. Because at the end of the day, a fine means nothing when you still have Lando by your side.

And, as expected, the media goes absolutely wild.

"Formula 1 Driver Y/N Y/L/N Fined After Shocking Radio Message Post-Crash!"

"Did Y/N Deserve Her FIA Penalty? Fans Debate Over Radio Outburst!"

"Y/N’s Crash Sparks Controversy: Was the Fine Justified?"

The headlines flood every social platform within minutes. Slow-motion replays of the crash loop endlessly on TV screens, side-by-side with grainy images of you wincing as you climbed out of the wreckage. Every angle is analyzed, every expression dissected.

Your post-race hospital visit is barely over when reporters start circling like vultures, bombarding you with questions before you even have the strength to face them, but Lando was having none of it.

Seated in front of the media, still in his race suit, Lando’s jaw is tight, hands clenched on the table as microphones are shoved toward him.

"Lando, there's been a lot of discussion about Y/N’s penalty for language over the team radio. Do you think the FIA was justified in issuing the fine?"

He scoffs, jaw tightening. "Are we seriously focusing on a fine when she just survived a massive crash?" His voice is sharp, edged with barely restrained anger. "She was in pain. She was shaken up. And she swore—who wouldn’t? It's ridiculous."

The journalists shift uncomfortably, but another one presses on. "Rules are rules, though. FIA has strict guidelines about profanity on public transmissions. Do you think it sets a bad precedent if they don’t enforce them?"

Lando lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Mate, if your first thought after seeing a crash like that is to talk about a penalty, maybe rethink your priorities."

Another journalist jumps in. "But don’t you think it’s important to maintain professionalism on the radio? A lot of young fans look up to drivers."

Lando rolls his eyes. "Right, because what’s really damaging to young fans isn’t the fact that someone just had a life-threatening accident, but the fact that she said ‘fuck’ while trying to breathe properly again." He leans forward, voice lower but no less cutting. "If we’re talking role models, maybe start by making sure the sport actually supports its drivers instead of fining them for reacting like a human being."

His words are already making waves, clips spreading across social media.

And while you’re still exhausted, still aching from the crash, there’s something about seeing him so openly, fiercely in your corner that makes your heart ache in the best way.

Even after the official interviews, the media frenzy doesn’t stop. Paparazzi crowd outside the paddock, desperate for a statement. Team members act as buffers, but there’s only so much they can do.

As you slowly make your way out of the motorhome, Lando’s arm firmly around your waist, cameras flash, voices overlapping as reporters shout over each other.

"Y/N, do you think the FIA’s decision was fair?"

"Do you regret your words on the radio?"

"Lando, how did it feel watching the crash happen live?"

He tenses beside you. "How do you think it felt?" His voice is sharp, protective. "I watched someone I love crash at full speed. So no, I don’t really give a damn about some radio penalty right now."

You squeeze his hand in silent gratitude. He doesn’t have to be this involved, but he is. Always.

Another journalist turns to you, voice softer but no less intrusive. "Y/N, how are you feeling after the accident?"

You exhale, trying to keep your expression neutral despite the lingering pain. "Sore, obviously. But I’m okay."

"Will you be racing in the next Grand Prix?"

Lando answers before you can. "She’s focusing on recovery first. That’s the priority."

It’s not a direct confirmation, but it’s enough to hold off the speculation—at least for now.

The chaos of the day finally starts to feel like a distant memory as you curl up on the couch in Lando’s apartment. An ice pack rests gently on your ribs, offering some comfort against the bruising, but it’s Lando’s presence that truly calms you. His arm drapes protectively around you, pulling you in close like he never wants to let go, his warmth surrounding you in a way that makes you feel safe. His thumb moves in slow, soothing circles on your arm, the rhythm gentle and steady.

It’s such a contrast to the frantic energy of the day—the flashing cameras, the endless questions, the tension in the air—but now, in this moment, all of that feels like it belongs to another world. This is where you’re grounded.

You sigh, resting your head against his shoulder, letting the quietness of the room wrap around you like a soft blanket. But there’s something still heavy in the pit of your stomach, a lingering feeling that something was unsettled. You tilt your head up to look at him, your eyes tracing the faint lines of worry still etched across his face, the tension that’s only now starting to ease from his features.

"You didn’t have to go that hard for me," you murmur, your voice soft, though you know the words don’t quite do justice to what you’re feeling. You had been overwhelmed by everything that happened, but he—he had been beside you every step of the way, his every move showing how deeply he cared.

He scoffs, shaking his head slowly like the idea is completely foreign to him. "Of course I did. It’s bullshit," he mutters, his voice laced with frustration that hasn’t quite gone away. "You should be getting support, not fined for a stupid word." The words come out with a little more heat than he intends, but it’s the underlying softness in his voice, the way he’s speaking to you like he wants to protect you from the world’s unfairness, that makes your heart flutter.

You chuckle softly, a tired sound that makes his grip on you tighten just a fraction, like he’s afraid you might slip away. "Guess I owe you, huh?" you tease, trying to lighten the mood.

Lando’s response is immediate—he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. His hands shift, cradling you with a tenderness that almost feels too gentle, like you’re something precious he’s afraid to break. "Just don’t scare me like that again," he whispers, his voice barely above a breath, as though the thought of you being hurt again is more than he can bear. "And we’ll call it even."

You smile up at him, heart full of warmth for this man who always seems to put your well-being before his own. But you can’t promise him that. You know how the sport works, how unpredictable it is. You’ll never be able to give him that guarantee.

But there’s something you can promise him, something more important. You squeeze his hand, the simple act grounding you both in this moment. Your voice is steady as you look up into his eyes, locking your gaze with his. "No matter what happens," you say, the words firm but soft, a promise from the deepest part of you, "you’ll always have me. I’ll always have you."

His expression softens in a way that makes you think he’s heard every unspoken word in your statement, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. The air between you feels full—full of shared understanding, full of the love you have for each other, full of the promise that no matter the challenges, no matter the risks, you’ll face it all side by side.

For a long moment, Lando is quiet, his thumb still brushing over your skin in slow, absentminded strokes. But then his breath catches slightly, and when you glance up, you see it—the way his eyes shimmer with unshed tears. His jaw tenses as if he’s trying to hold it all back, but the emotion is too heavy, too raw.

"I thought I lost you," he admits, his voice breaking just enough to reveal the fear he’s been holding in. "When everything was happening, and I couldn’t reach you..." He trails off, shaking his head as if trying to push the memory away, but his grip on you tightens like he never wants to let go again. "I don’t know what I would’ve done if—"

"Hey," you interrupt softly, your hand moving to cup his face, your thumb brushing against the dampness on his cheek. "I’m here. I’m okay. And I’m not going anywhere."

That seems to break whatever wall he was trying to hold up. Lando lets out a shaky breath, his forehead dropping against yours as he closes his eyes. "I just... I can’t lose you," he confesses, the words raw and vulnerable in a way that makes your chest ache. "Not you."

You press a soft kiss to his lips, hoping it conveys everything words can’t. "You won’t," you promise against his mouth, your voice unwavering. "I’m right here."

He nods slightly, like he’s trying to believe it, and when he pulls you into his arms again, it’s with a desperation that speaks to how close he felt to losing you. But in this moment, with his heart laid bare and your arms wrapped tightly around each other, there’s nothing else that matters.

Lando kisses you gently on the forehead, his lips lingering there for just a second longer. "That’s all I need," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. Then, his arms pull you even closer, his warmth radiating through your bones.

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Sweat

Sergei Kravinoff x Fem!Reader

Req, Anon: "Happy holidays! Can you please do Sergei kravinoff x female reader smut? Reader is taking care of him post hunt by sharing a bath together and it gets 🔥 Ty!"

Genre: Smut

Summary: Y/N takes care of Sergei after a hunt and things get a little hot and heavy

Warnings: Cursing, Oral, Porn with a plot (barely), google translated Russian

The thud of the glass door closing is what jolted me away from the book that I was currently nose deep in. Looking up I'm met with the beautiful sight of my fiancé Sergei who's been out hunting.

I watch as he walks from one end of the little home to the next as he puts away his hunting gear, his skin glistening in a beautiful sheer of sweat.

"You know I can feel your gaze on me моя принцесс (my princess)?" I hear a deep and thick Russian accent pierce the silence. The heaviness of his voice is enough for me to clench my thighs together in hopes of relieving the tingle at my core. Every time Sergei talks, it's like something in me just sparks and I have to jump on his bones and fuck him until the sun comes up. It could be his accent or the way he just knows his way around every crease and crevices of my body or maybe it's the way his gaze on me makes me feel small against him.

Gosh, everything about Sergei right now makes me want to do some unspeakable thing to him. "I'm talking to you" It makes me blink, how long have I been staring at him? I mean this is an everyday occurrence but it's still embarrassing to get caught.

"Hmm?" I said as I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my heads in hopes of clearing my mind from all the thoughts that are currently fresh in my mind.

"What are you thinking of? I can tell there is something going on in that pretty mind of yours." The compliments. If he doesn't stop soon we're gonna have to call his brother and tell him that he's going to be an uncle.

"I was just thinking about how much I need to take a bath," Sergei quirks a brow as a tiny smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth as I speak "And how I would love for you to join me- just to save water." I see his eyes darken with lust as a low almost inaudible growl gurgles at the base of his throat.

Sergei lowly strides towards me peeling his sweat drenched jacket off his body, his eyes still staring in mine "Really, мой невинный (my innocent), just to save water?" he's closer now, so much so that I can start to feel his breath on my neck as he leans into me.

My heart pounds against my chest as Sergei's lips near my ear before seductively whispering "And don't even think about lying to me драгоценный (Precious)." his palm comes up to caress my cheek before he grips my chin with enough force not to hurt but to make my eyes shoot open after not realizing they'd fluttered shut. "because you know how much I hate liars." something about the way he's talking to me right now is just so hot, sending shivers down my body and heat traveling to my core. His big muscular arms are the only thing on my mind as my hand goes up to caress the back of his.

"I-I just want to see you naked," hearing my confession makes a full smile break out on his face "and wet." Sergei could tell that I wanted to say more but he didn't want to push like he always does enjoying the way I shrink in embarrassment, instead he gave in almost immediately.

"What are we waiting for котенок (kitten)?" within milliseconds of him saying that does he pick me up and swing me over his shoulders as if my body weight was that of a feather. His long legs striding towards the bathroom and once in, he kicks the door shut before setting me down as he walks over to the shower and turns in on, steam quickly filling up the small room.

Sergei turns to face me, his hands tugging at the bottom on his shirt pulling it up and over his head, before unbuckling his pants and kicking those off, his eyes still never leaving mine as he does so. My eyes rake over his body almost unsure of where to look first. Without thinking I rush in front of him, my hands cupping either side of his face before crashing my lips flush against his. I can taste the faint saltiness of his sweat on my tongue as we start devouring the taste of each other. I pull away needing air, using this time to strip myself of my clothes leaving me more exposed than Sergei, who is still in his boxers.

"You look so sexy Моя любовь (My love), I need you now" without a second thought, I pressed my lips against his again with enough force to have Sergei stumble backwards. I feel his arm snake around my waist as he pulls me into the shower with him, his tongue licking my bottom lip, asking for permission which I grant him at an embarrassingly fast speed.

My hands find his hair as his roam my body, our lips never leaving each others. One of my hands travel south and feels up his hard on, wrapping my hand around his shaft, slowly pumping it while sucking on his tongue. My hand jerks him off faster before I get the sudden urge to wrap my lips around his beautifully long and girth cock.

The urge becoming too strong that I drop to my knees, the water hitting my face as I looked up at him, silently asking for permission as I lick my lips and continue jerking him off, Sergei give a slight nod which was enough of confirmation for me to wrap my lips around his cock, so needy that I forced all 9 hard inches of him down my throat, my one hand kneading his balls while my other hand travels down to my aching clit, rubbing hard circles around the sensitive bud before feeling a hand grip my hair and yank me off his cock. A groan of disappointment leaves my throat as I look up at Sergei, "Don't rush it baby, take your time." he says, leaning down a little to place a quick peck on my lips.

"I want it rough, I need you to ruin me Sergei. I need it, badly." my voice sound pathetic but I'm too horny to actually care. I didn't have to say much because the second those words left my mouth, the hand that Sergei has wrapped in my hair quickly guides my mouth back to his cock before shoving it down my throat, Sergei's other hand coming to the back of my head forcing his cock further down my throat even though my nose is flush against his pubes. I flatten my tongue as a way to let him impossibly further down my throat, my eyes watering and lungs burning as I am unable to breathe. I tap on his upper thigh to signal to Sergei that I need air which he was happily able to oblige to.

A few gasps of air and a wipe away of my saliva later, he's shoving my mouth back on his cock only for him to keep my head stationary and he thrusts his cock in and out of my throat, furthering himself down my throat with each thrust. I feel his cock twitch in my throat signaling that he's about to cum which prompts Sergei to pull my mouth off his cock before yanking my body up and into his arms as he pushes me against the shower wall before reaching between us and grabbing his cock before mercilessly shoving it into my dripping wet and aching core.

Sergei's thrusts are hard, rough and full of need. He's determined to fuck every drop of his cum so deep in me that it would have a 95% chance of fertility, not that it's what he's going for but he doesn't want any drop of his liquid gold to go unused.

Not that I let any drop of his cum go to waste on the regular anyway, whether he cums in my tight pussy or he cums down my warm throat it always stays in me. Who knows maybe if Sergei deserves it, I might let him use my other whole. Only three times in the year and a half that we've been together have I let Sergei fuck my ass and boy does it make him go feral each and every time.

I feel his hips shudder which means that he's close again, I've thought about it for a minute now and I think I'm just gonna do it, "Baby, fuck- you feel so good. I need to cum, are you close too." I whimper through my moans

"Fuck yes, I'm going to cum" Sergei says as he captures my lips in a searing kiss. "Hmm, cum in my ass" I said as I rest my forehead against his. Looking at him, I see his eyes shoot open, his eyes raking my face as if he's trying to find a hint of a joke in my expression, once he finds none he quickly yanks his cock out of my pussy before slowly pushing it into my asshole.

The stinging pain was enough for me to want to tell him that I regretted saying that he could cum in my ass but the pain went away as fast as it came after only a few thrusts. It wasn't long before the pleasure became too much for me and I came undone, my lips attaching to his neck, sucking on the skin, sure to leave some bruising later. About 10 thrusts later does Sergei's hips come to a halt and I feel him shoot long and warm ropes of cum in my ass. I hear a string a nothings coming from Sergei's mouth, the water still hitting us.

After a minute of silence and slight overstimulation, does Sergei pull out and set me down before cupping my face a placing a long and loving kiss to my lips.

" Моя любовь (my love), will you marry me?"

[soy-soi-si]

Leona, Azul, Idia, Floyd, Jack, Rook, and Sebek with a Fem! Reader who texts to try and get more cuddles.

Leona

He was just dealing with practice not actually doing anything since Vargas was off fuckin around with track and he was just making the rest do a final work out he himself tired sweaty and fucking peeved when his phone buzzes.

He pulls it out expecting it to be some shit from Cheka stealing his brother's phone again for the sixth time today. Then he spots the name and he immediately opens it.

「wheer are u」

He takes a second before smiling imagining y/n half asleep in his bed where he left her.

「practice, you just wake up?」

He barely pays any mind to the group running laps panting like dogs.

「cmoe bavk im lpnely」

Leona can barely resist the urge to get up and fly straight to the dorm on his broom.

「give me a sec」

He looks up at the group hissing in a breath as his tail sways, “That's enough we're done for the day!” immediately he gets up grabbing his shit before walking off to go take a shower before going to the dorm.

Azul

Azul was just dealing with some contractors' study guides when his phone buzzed. He didn't even hear it the first time, or he equated it to Floyd sending another meme. Then it buzzed again, and again though pretty spaced apart by probably fifteen seconds. He got annoyed by the sound quickly grabbing his phone to see who's interrupting his concentration.

Then it immediately goes away at the nickname he put as y/n’s contact info. His beautiful pearl and he opens it taking a second to lean back.

「azzy」

「why’d you leave me」

「i'm coming to the lounge for cuddles」

He pauses remembering he left her at ramshackle after she fell asleep during lunch on him.

「alright, I'll see you soon」

Azul opens jades number calling him who immediately answers him. “Yeah?” “y/n’s coming to the lounge if you see her just send her straight to my room since I'm busy.” “Alright.”

Idia

Idia for once left his room just to retrieve more snacks for him and y/n when the text chimed through his music causing him to jump before fumbling with his phone and the grocery bag of snacks to see it was y/n and he immediately sighs in relief before glancing around then opening it.

「come back」

His hair turns pink before he texts her back.

「omw」

If he wasn't out of shape, he would've run back to his dorm room.

Floyd

Floyd was just playing on his phone skipping out on practice again since it got boring a little over halfway through, he's just sitting on the sidelines as the rest of them play. He hates how he smells but he can't go into the locker room because it smells worse there. He's just waiting until Vargas finally airs it out when the text comes.

「it's cold come back.」

His eyes light up since he's currently sweating from the heat. And he practically jumps up bolting out of the gym back to his room where his sleepy girlfriend is.

Jack

Hes finishing up with his cactuses in the main area of Savanaclaw when his phone buzzes. And he pulls it out just opening the text expecting it to be ruggie again asking him to grab something.

「babe, where did you goo」

His tail immediately begins wagging dusting the floor as he's kneeling down.

「I’m just in the common area」

Immediately she texts him back and he turns red.

「come back I want my boyfriend to cuddle me」

Rook

He probably went out to stalk Leona or some unsuspecting merman. And as he's sitting in a tree his phone buzzes. He pulls it out quickly spotting y/n's name so he opens it sparing a few glances to his prey who is not going to move anytime soon. Then he spots the picture of her laying in his bed on her stomach clearly tired as she looks into the camera.

「come here」

Rook immediately abandons his objective to go see the domestic beauty in his very own bed he denied his full attention.

Sebek

Sebek was just standing by Malleus when silver showed Malleus his phone. Malleus pauses for a moment before chuckling, turning to sebek who's clearly not amused by silver pulling out his phone at all near waka-sama. “Sebek, you're free to go to y/n. I’m going to retire for the night.” Malleus stands up waving the boy off as he and Silver walk away, leaving him confused.

「I want cuddles I'm lonely」

[captain-huggy-bear]

Had a thot, had a break down over Clayton Keller and that he'll never be mine, wrote some stuff, bonne appetite. 18+ MDNI as there's a little bit of NSFW stuff mentioned but not much. Big requests/full fic/big idea requests are closed at the moment but drabble and prompt requests are still open. Writing Masterlist

You don't expect anything but the traditional set up when Clayton finally proposes. You don't even consider the possibility that it won't just be you wearing your engagement on your finger. It seems natural for you to have the ring on your finger, one that Clay had spent more time than he ever imagined picking. But, it wasn't enough for him, even if it was enough for you. He wanted everyone to know he was taken, everyone to know he was yours as much as you were his.

Seeing the ring on your finger, his ring, does something to him. It makes him feel proud, makes him feel reassured that everyone else knows you're his, but it didn't feel accurate or fair...because it wasn't that you were his, it was that he was yours too. It wasn't a one way street.

He doesn't tell you he's going to do it, doesn't tell anyone. Just goes along to a local tattoo shop a few days after your engagement and gets your first initial permanently marked on the skin of his ring finger, right where his future wedding band will be. It feels right to him when comes out with it there, like he's showing the world he's engaged, he's taken, that you're going to be his wife, like he's now as much yours as you are his. It settles some of the buzzing unease under is skin, the sense of emptiness, wrongness at nothing being on his ring finger.

He doesn't mention it, just waits for you to notice and it doesn't take long. You've always been obsessed with his hands; his long fingers, that stupidly attractive ring he wears, the veins and tendons pulled taut on the back of his palm leading to his wrist where he always wears layers of bracelets. So it's really not a surprise to him that it takes less than 5 minutes of being in his presence for you to clock it.

"What's that?" Your eyes lock onto his ring finger, tongue coming out to wet your lip because that can't be what you think it is. It can't be...

"Mmm, what's what, baby?" The smirk he send your way is lazy and expectant, like he's been waiting for this, like this is the best thing that's happened to him all day.

You grasp his left hand between yours, finger pointing down at the tattoo where a ring will eventually rest. A black letter, a very familiar letter, in cursive stark and new against his skin, still wrapped to protect it as it heals.

"That. You don't have any tattoos."

"Correction, I didn't have any tattoos until an hour ago." Clayton's teeth peek out from beneath his lips, smirk deepening, eyes heavy lidded and dark as he watches your reaction to your initial being branded on his skin forever.

"What..." You know what it is, he can tell you know, but you're confused by it, struck by the statement he's making. Your pupils dilate taking over most of the colour in your eyes at the realisation that he's branded himself with you, declaring to the world that he's yours. Forever because that's certainly not coming off any time soon.

"It's your initial, baby." You hate that it's so hot. You hate that it's not just a sweet gesture of his love for you, a declaration that you're in this together, but that it also makes you want to kiss him so hard he can't breathe. It's just a bit of ink. Just a singular letter. It shouldn't matter that much. Shouldn't impact you that much.

"Why?"

"Want everyone to know I'm taken. We're partners, right? Why should you wear that," he nods to your engagement ring where it glints at him as your fingers smooth over the skin of his knuckles, "if I don't have something too, sweet girl?"

He says it so simply that the way you reach up to kiss him feels just as simple, just as natural as anything else you've ever done. The sort of kiss that makes him a little dizzy from how forceful it is, something you rarely are, the way you tug him down, fingers digging into his hair, how your tongue practically forces its way between his lips. It's more commanding than you've ever been with him, but the sigh you let out against him is so quintessentially you that he can't help but melt into you too.

And maybe the guys give him shit about it in the locker room, just like they always give him shit for all the hickeys you leave on him, all the scratches down his back. But, he just doesn't give a crap. Let them make fun of him, most of them only do it because they're perpetually single to the point where they've forgotten what it's like to be in love, to want someone so much that you'd do anything for them.

It's Kess that pulls him up on it first, noticing it as they're tossing a ball back and forth in a pre-game ritual of theirs.

"Dude, she branded you already?"

"No. I branded myself." Clayton smirks at him because Kess doesn't get it, never has. The guy is so single it hurts and the thought of getting a tattoo for a partner is so far out of his current experience that it's laughable to him.

"You're not even married yet, Kells."

"So? I'm going to be aren't I? I didn't exactly propose assuming we wouldn't get married." It's stupid to him that people act like it's a big deal. He proposed because he's going to marry you. Not because he wants to. Not because he hopes to. Because he is going to. To him the engagement is as good as marriage, it's just the period of preparation, getting it all together before the official ceremony.

"Leave him alone, Kess, let him be whipped and happy." It's Schmaltz, equally as whipped with his own fiancé, that comes to Clay's rescue. Still, Kess grins at Clay not done yet.

"Blink twice if you need help."

"Kess?" Clay smirks at him, basketball braced in his hands, ready to throw it harder at the taller man.

"Yeah?"

"Shut the fuck up." The ball hits Kess in the chest hard enough to wind him a little, bend slightly in too as he winces, Michael nods with a cough.

"Aye, aye, captain!"

And maybe it's also a little self indulgent too. Maybe Clay likes that when his hand wraps around your throat gently while he fucks into you that he can see your initial on his skin. That as he's claiming your body, you've already claimed his.

Call him possessive and you'd be right, but that possession is a two way street. He doesn't just want you to be his, he wants to be yours too. He wants to be coated in your marks, a walking billboard of your love just as much as he loves to cover you in his own marks, in his chain around your neck, his ring on your finger, his marks across your throat.

He wants you all over him and your initial is as good a mark as any, a mark gossip blogs have a field day with, a mark that he gets asked about in interviews that prompts him to talk about you, his fiancé, and how much he loves you.

A mark he hopes never even fades slightly.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Fake dating with hockey player Anakin 😵‍💫😵‍💫

HOCKEY PLAYER!ANAKIN HEADCANONS

Author's note: have no idea if you meant headcanons or fic so im sorry :// also this is also an opportunity for me to ask anyone who want to send a request to be more specific! It helps a lot

You should have said no.

You knew it'd be a disaster when ANAKIN SKYWALKER said, "I need a fake girlfriend."

And you need a freaking bag full of money

The words had barely left his stupid, pretty mouth before you rolled your eyes and continued walking. But, of course, he'd not let you go that easily. He chased after you, hockey bag slung over his shoulder, smelling like cologne and screaming trouble.

"C’mon, bookworm. It’s just for a little while. My ex won’t leave me alone, and Coach says I need to ‘grow up’ and ‘be responsible.’ You’re, like, the most responsible girl I know.”

Your mistake? Stopping to listen.

Your second mistake? Agreeing.

HOCKEY PLAYER!ANAKIN who sat with you to set the rules;

"Alright, we need some ground rules,” you began, tone serious as you laid your notebook flat on the table.

Anakin leaned back in his chair, arms crossed and that signature cocky smirk on his face. "Go ahead, princess. What rules you got in mind?"

You rolled your eyes at the nickname, ignoring the way his gaze lingered on your lips for a second too long. "First off, no unnecessary touching."

He raised an eyebrow, smile widening. "Unnecessary? So what's necessary touching? Hand-holding? Arm around your waist? Kissing?"

Your face heated up instantly, and you cleared your throat, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach. "Only in public, and only when we have to sell it," you replied, writing it down in your notebook, though your hand shook slightly..if your mother would see this, she would instantly deprive you

Anakin chuckled softly, leaning in closer over the table. "Does that mean I get to kiss you whenever people are watching? Maybe slip a hand down to—"

"Rule two!" you cut him off, cheeks flaming as you forced yourself to focus. At least one of you had to be focused "No… suggestive comments."

"Can’t promise that, sweetheart."

You glared at him, though the effect was ruined by how hot your skin felt. "You have to try."

"Fine, fine," Anakin waved it off playfully. Then he leaned forward, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he took your notebook from your hands, flipping it closed. "My turn for some rules."

You blinked, confused. "Your rules? I thought this was—"

"Rule one," he interrupted "When we’re together, you don’t look at anyone else but me."

You scoffed, trying to sound unaffected, but the possessiveness in his tone made something inside you stir. "And why would I need to look at you all the time?"

His lips curled into a slow smirk as his eyes locked with yours. "Because if we’re selling this, I want people to know you’re mine. Fake or not, you’ll have to act the part."

"Fine. But that goes both ways."

"Of course, princess," he said, winking. "I wouldn’t dream of looking anywhere else."

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to keep your composure as he continued. "Rule two: when we’re alone, we still act like we're dating."

Your eyebrows shot up. "Wait, why? No one’s around to see it."

"Because I want you to get used to it," he said, voice low and teasing. "It’ll make things easier in public, right?"

You swallowed hard, trying to form a retort, but the way he was looking at you had your words caught in your throat. The way he said it—like he was daring you to admit just how much he was getting under your skin—made your heart race.

You let out a heavy sigh, feeling your cheeks flush again as you looked away. "Fine. But if you cross any lines, this deal is off."

"I wouldn't dream of it"

He nodded at whatever you've been lecturing him about before he leaned back in his chair with that cocky grin of his. "Agreed. But there’s one thing I won’t agree to—you can’t limit how many times I call you my pretty little girlfriend."

He tapped his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “Hmm... how about rule three? You have to wear something of mine to class.”

"Wait, what?" You blinked, caught off guard.

He smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction. "You heard me. Just something simple. A sweatshirt, a jacket—anything. It’ll make the whole thing look more real."

You let out a breath, shaking your head but still writing it down. "Alright, anything else, mister 'I’m perfect’?"

He chuckled, leaning forward now, arms on the table “Oh, I’ve got one more. You have to come to my games. Obvious, right?”

You raised an eyebrow but wrote it down anyway, handing the paper to him with a sigh. “Sign it.”

He scanned over the rules with exaggerated care for someone like him, then grabbed the pen and signed it with a flourish. "With pleasure, pretty girl."

HOCKEY PLAYER!ANAKIN who walked you to another class;

Ball rang and you stepped out of your classroom, only to lock eyes with the devil himself. Anakin stood a few feet away, surrounded by his friends from the hockey team. When your eyes locked, a smirk tugged at his lips before he excused himself from the group and made his way towards you.

"What are you doing here?" You whispered, heart pounding at the sight of him.

He gave you a charming smile, hand quickly finding its way to the small of your back as he leaned in close "I’m here to walk you to your next class, of course."

You stiffened at the unexpected contact, but he didn’t seem to notice, of care, as he led you through the bustling hallway. His hand slid even lower, brushing your pocket, before coming dangerously close to your ass. "What are you doing?" You hissed, voice barely carrying an edge of irritation.

His hand didn’t move though, instead it pressed against you as if to make a point, before sliding in fully to your pocket..on your ass.. His voice got lower, just for you to hear. "I’m just doing my part to sell it, pretty girl. Can’t have everyone think I’m not totally smitten with my girlfriend, can we?"

He glanced around, clearly taking pleasure in the stares from other students. "See? They’re all watching us."

"I don't like that," voice tense but a little breathless from the mix of discomfort and... something else you refused to acknowledge

He grinned again, sensing your unease, and leaned in closer, his hand giving your ass a tiny, teasing squeeze. "Come on, loosen up. You’ve got to act like you enjoy it when I touch you if we’re gonna make this look real." His tone softened for a moment as his gaze met yours. "Where’s your class? Can’t walk around aimlessly with you."

"Chemistry... second floor." You said, words escaping your lips almost automatically as youso desperately tried to focus on something else to keep your composure.

Anakin nodded, still trailing behind you, large hand slipping down a little further, lingering just below your waist as he gave your bum a subtle pat. His words came out smoothly, as if this was just another normal conversation between a boyfriend and his girlfriend. "Looks like we’re headed to the second floor then, sweetheart." then he continued "So, how were classes today? Anything exciting? Any tests?"

"It was okay..." You muttered, wanting the conversation to be over.

He chuckled, clearly not buying it. The grip on your hip only tightened as he pulled you closer, breath warm against your ear. "Just ‘okay’? C’mon, at least one thing had to be interesting." His hand gave your ass a firmer squeeze, body pressing up against yours as you both moved up the stairs.

"Anakin, the PDA, remember?" You whispered, trying to pull away just a little.

He smirked, eyes scanning the hall to make sure no one was paying too much attention. When he didn’t spot anyone, he leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "I’m just keeping up our cover, baby. Can’t have anyone thinking you don’t like my touch, now, can we?" voice sending a shiver down your spine.

"I want to stab you." You muttered

He laughed "Now now, let’s not get too violent. It’s not very ‘girlfriend-like’ to be plotting to stab your boyfriend, is it?" He teased, amusement screaming from his eyes

You furrowed your brows, about to fire back a retort when Anakin closed the gap between you, pressing his lips to yours in a swift kiss before pulling away. His hand gave your ass one final squeeze, smirk never leaving his face as he whispered. "See you after class, pretty girl." And even when he left, you swore you could still feel his touch on your body..and it definitely did not help you treat this as a normal «fake dating» thing

HOCKEY PLAYER!ANAKIN whose eyes made you feral - the way he looked down at you, a little too possessive, a little too protective, a little just too much for your liking. Gaze didn't leave you for a second while you would speak, eyes would soften, be so hypnotized/captivated by you, you caught yourself thinking if he was really pretending

HOCKEY PLAYER!ANAKIN who shamelessly grabbed your hand in front of his teammates..which obviously was flustering for you but weird for his friends, cause since when THE Anakin Skywalker dated some random?

HOCKEY PLAYER!ANAKIN who brought you to parties;

You should have stayed at home.

The party was loud, sweaty, too overwhelming— simply and shortly, not your scene at all. But Anakin had looked at you with those stupid, stupid big blue eyes and said, «I need you there, bookworm. Just one night. It's in the deal, remember?»

So you were standing in the middle of someone's packed house, hugging a solo cup to your chest, while Anakin—the guy you’re fake dating for reasons you’re still not sure of—was locked in an intense stare-down with his ex.

Padmé Amidala. The school’s golden girl. The one everyone thought Anakin would marry someday.

And maybe that's why your stomach curled in a way you couldn't process right now. The idea of competition, the thought of the real reason you were kind of stuck to fake-dating Anakin hit you like a wall.. He was doing it for her. To win her back, in this weird, so-anakin-like way..

Suddenly, before you can contemplate further, Anakin’s turning to you, hands finding your waist. Breath is warm against your ear when he leaned down.

"Kiss me."

Your brain short-circuits. What?

"What?" you echoed dumbly. The music was too loud, the bass feeling like it shook the floor. It all mixed with your beating rapidly heart in the perfect rhythm

"Kiss me," Anakin repeated, voice lower, rougher. His eyes are still trained on Padmé across the room, but his fingers squeezed your waist just enough to make your stomach do a flip.

Twice.

You didn't even have enough time to think properly

Because Anakin cupped your face and crashed his lips with yours. The kiss was deep, hungry, a little desperate. His tongue slide against yours, and your knees literally went weak. None ever kissed you this way..none kissed you in general with such..passion.. precision, as if he was too skilled in this matter

His hands tightened on your waist after he deepened the kiss, pressing you back against the nearest wall as if the idea of any space between you frustrated him.

You're gone. Done. Wrecked. Destroyed. Out of any power.

When he finally pulled away, with those pink lips glistening, being swollen, sinful, tempting, even. He swiped his thumb across your bottom lip, wiping away the evidence of what he just did.

You stared at him dazedly

"Too stunned to speak, kitty cat?" Anakin smirked breathlessly

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy-deactivated20250 @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17-deactivated2025 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @cloverina @nikiloveshayden

[damienshaas]

Hi hello back again, had a much better day today and yesterday and to celebrate I require your finest damangela gifs, pics, videos, 16 page essays etc. go hog wild basically..all the best 💛

YELLS ANON YOU GET ME? this is great for a break from playing bloom & rage need a second from my min maxxing the girl kissing game...... you said essay i'm in that mood so i'm giving essay with a side of pics okay? okay.

OKAY SO like. they're insane right. like I think everyone usually has a lot to say about like amangela because when they're together in a vid they are. FULL sending it. like full "we're getting married in the spring" and "we've been kissing for seven minutes over here while [Shayne and Spencer] prattle on". so like that's their god given yuri right.

BUT when damangela is in a video they're giving in a more. how you would say. demure. mindful. way. like amangela is fun because it's not "serious" like as in it could never realistically happen, right. it's the beach episode of smosh interactions. literally just pure fun.

but damien and ang.......... they're yapper meeting yapper. saying whatever comes out of her brain vs infodumping genuine knowledge, damien. high energy vs cool composed. off the walls humor vs quick-witted and well-thought snipes. damangela is just that bitch. damangela is damien getting into Sarah Christ form and asking in character "so your place tonight or mine. or neither." damangela is bouncing looks at each other between rounds of tntl while everyone else is spiking the camera consistently like good boys and girls. damangela is angela being like "I'm excited we're on a team together again it's been so long"/"we're against each other and i'm going to beat your ass" (proceeds to get obliterated a la loud librarians). damangela is damien "I'm gonna torn apart in the comments about astrology" and angela "I think you're worried and I understand you are. but don't be" and ofc damien "I appreciate you." damangela is angela wanting to do nsfw prompts for games when damien is there AT LEAST 9/10 times. damangela is damien "you have such a great laugh." damangela is damien unprompted bringing angela up everywhere especially when she's not there; his stream, smosh mouth, other podcasts, insta captions, games videos. damangela is angela doing the same; perfect person podcast, smosh mouth, reacting to old smosh content. and there's just. everything else they do. like I see them and my whole brain goes dial up noises combined with like, lawnmower startup sounds.

also. peep the height difference.

it's especially funny when angela is the peak of looking respectfully. because why is she so real.

also they're just the big sillies.

like computer, play bad habit by steve lacy. computer play kiss goodnight by IDKHBTFM. computer. computer help. girl help

also. it helps that they're both. really hot. like if we're talking about power couples that could pass me around like a blunt on a good day in paris I'm not hesitating.

and finally, of course,

it's the mutual respect. it's the genuine friendship. it's the recognizing how absolutely hilarious the other person is. it's the just wanting to make each other laugh.

i'm glad you had a good day, anon! fingers crossed this made today a nice one 💙

[harunayuuka2060]

Twst Unveil Event Part 5

Leona: Congrats. Ruggie sent me the video of your first match.

Leona: You really beat the shit out of that crocodile.

Yuurin: Thank you, Leona-senpai.

Leona: Was falling off the cliff necessary, though? *in a bit worried tone*

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: I'll be more careful.

Leona: Tch. Like you would listen.

Leona: Anyway, who's going to be your next opponent?

Yuurin: Floyd Leech.

Leona: Oh really? *clicks his tongue*

Leona: I heard they get to choose the place?

Yuurin: Yes.

Leona: ...

Leona: I'm hanging up now.

Yuurin: Will you be calling Ruggie-senpai and Jack after this?

Leona: ...

Leona: No. *ends the call*

Yuurin: ...

*Meanwhile*

Leona: Oi, Ruggie!

Ruggie: Geez, Leona! What now?!

Leona: You better show Yuurin's fight to me on real-time or I'm gonna turn your ass to sand!

Ruggie: Okay, okay! I just got too excited so I forgot to video call you!

Jack: ...

Jack: I thought you did it on purpose because you didn't want to be bothered?

Ruggie: ...

Leona: Ruggie.

Ruggie: He was just joking!

Ruggie: Back me up here, Jack!

Philomela: Introducing our contenders for the second match: Yuurin and Floyd Leech!

Floyd: Yaaaaay~!

Yuurin: ...

Silver: Everyone seems excited for this second match.

Rook: Oui. That is no surprise.

Rook: After all, Monsieur Malfeasant has considered everything for this. *chuckles*

Floyd: Ne~ Damselfish~.

Yuurin: ?

Floyd: I won't underestimate you like Crocodile did~.

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: I know that, senpai.

Floyd: Hehe~ I'll enjoy fighting with you~.

Floyd: Please do your best~.

Yuurin: ...

Philomela: I'm sending you now to your designated location!

Philomela: Good luck! *laughs*

*In an underwater cavern*

Epel: Wha— Why?!

Malleus: This is going to be challenging for Yuurin.

Jade: Indeed. *chuckles* Floyd chose the right place.

Jack and Ruggie: ...

Ruggie: Hey, Philomela. Can Yuurin see effectively in the dark?

Philomela: *laughs* Of course not! He's not nocturnal!

Jack and Ruggie: !!!

Jack: Then Yuurin is in a great disadvantage!

Philomela: The greater the challenge, the more excitement we'll get!

Epel: Wow... You don't care about Yuurin's safety, do you?

Sebek: She is his mentor. She knows what she's doing.

Yuurin: ...

Floyd: *who has concealed himself by hiding behind a rock* *smirks while he slowly approaches from behind*

Yuurin: ...

Floyd: Heh~ *kicks Yuurin into the water*

Yuurin: !!!

Yuurin: *finds herself being submerged in it, with Floyd pushing her to the bottom*

Floyd: HEHE~!

Epel, Malleus, Sebek, Jack, and Ruggie: !!!

Epel: He's drowning him!

Jade: *smirks*

Sebek: Dammit, human! Why are you allowing him to push you around?!

Philomela: *amused smile*

Floyd: We're at the rock bottom now, Damselfish~.

Yuurin: *who couldn't read his lips because of the darkness*

Yuurin: *feels the rocky surface underneath her feet*

Yuurin: *grabs his arms, maneuvers herself so that he's positioned over her shoulder, and then forcefully slams him down onto the rock*

Floyd: Oof—

Yuurin: *quickly swims back up to create distance*

Epel: Yes! Go, Yuurin!

Jack: Floyd-senpai is after him!

Floyd: Don't escape from me, Damselfish~. *has caught up to her*

Floyd: *goes behind her and starts to perform a Full Nelson Hold; even coiling his tail around her waist*

Floyd: Damselfish~ How are you feeling now~? *squeezing her tight*

Malleus: Is Leech attempting to deprive him of oxygen?

Jade: Yes. We're fully aware that Yuurin can stay underwater for 30 minutes.

Jade: However, will it be the same if he's being squeezed tight like that? *smirks*

Epel, Jack, Ruggie, and Sebek: ...

Philomela: Impressive tactic, yes. Anyone would have to tap out in that situation.

Philomela: Though, are you seeing Yuurin struggle for air?

Jade: Huh?

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: *starts blowing bubbles*

Floyd: That's right, Damselfish~. Let all your air out~.

Yuurin: *starts to bend her body upward*

Floyd: Eh?

Yuurin: *while continuously blowing bubbles*

Floyd: Eh? EH?

Floyd: *not realizing that he fails to maintain the hold as he finds her actions amusing*

Jade: Oh no. This is bad.

Floyd: Hehehe~! This if fun, Damselfish—

Yuurin: *has sneaked behind him while he was distracted; wrapping her arms around his torso* *then starts squeezing him "tight"*

Floyd: AHHH!!!!

Jade: ...

Philomela: *loudly laughs* Ah, yes! Return the favor, Yuurin!

Epel: D-Does that really hurt?

Malleus: Lilia mentioned to me once that Yuurin can break a steel in half with his bare hands.

Jack: Huh?

Sebek: ...

Sebek: *remembers the handcuffs*

Sebek: Yes... That's right...

Philomela: Yes! YES!!! SQUEEZE HIM TIGHTER, YUURIN!

Floyd: *ends up fainting underwater and Yuurin has to bring him to the surface with her*

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: Floyd-senpai.

Philomela: He's out cold, Yuurin! Let him be! *laughs*

Yuurin: I see.

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: *lightly smacks his face to confirm*

Jade: ...

Jade: Well, that was an entertaining match.

Ruggie: ...

Ruggie: Yeah...

Leona: ...

Leona: I'm going there right now.

Ruggie: Huh? What? *completely forgot about him*

Ruggie: Leona—

*Leona has ended the video call.*

Ruggie: Ah, shit. We're screwed.

Jack: He was watching the whole time?

Ruggie: Yeah. Remember he asked to watch it in real-time?

Ruggie: He was silent the entire time so I thought he dozed off...

Jack: ...

Floyd: *once he regained consciousness*

Floyd: I can't believe you would use my own move against me~ Hehehe~.

Floyd: I should've taken you more seriously~. Sorry about that, damselfish~.

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: You managed to leave bruises on my body.

Floyd: Where?

Yuurin: *shows him the side of her waist*

Floyd: Eh~ That's the only injury you've got~?

Yuurin: Yes.

Floyd: Hehe~ That's fine~. You'll be treated anyway~.

Yuurin: No. I won't be treated until all of the matches are over.

Floyd: Oh... So you're going to carry that injury then?

Yuurin: *nods*

Floyd: Aww... Okay. Let me give you hug to make you feel better~.

Yuurin: No, thank you.

Floyd: But you hugged me earlier~.

Yuurin: That wasn't to comfort you.

Floyd: Hehe~ Fair enough~.

Silver: Yuurin is really strong.

Rook: Oui! *chuckles* I can't wait for my turn to fight Monsieur Tranquille!

Silver: ...

Silver: It's my turn next.

Silver: I will give my best.

Rook: I know you will, Monsieur Sleepyhead!

[ricciardo133]

Winter Break 2025

maxiel, weight gain, body worship, pregnancy briefly alluded to

-

Daniel always loves the way Max looks during the winter months. As Max steps into Daniel's Monaco apartment, Daniel eyes the tight fit of Max's running shorts along his softening hips.

"So, you have new merch?" Max asks, oblivious to Daniel's ogling. Daniel snaps to attention and follows Max into the living room.

"Well, obviously. As your new sponsor, we gotta make a whole Verstappen collection," Daniel adds with jazz hands for pizazz. "And I wanted to get your approval before we send the designs to print and you're stuck wearing all this for a year."

"It can look like anything," Max says, unbothered.

"Oh, good. I'll tell them we're a go on the Enchanté-branded assless chaps."

Max laughs, eyes crinkling in mirth. "Yeah, perfect for Media Day. I assume there is a matching cowboy hat."

Daniel feels his cheeks flush, picturing Max actually wearing that combination and nothing else.

"Just try on the samples and humor me, Maxy."

Thankfully, he's now not the only one blushing. They've been friends for long enough to know how to edge the unspoken line without ever crossing it, neither ever making that final push to send them spiraling onto one side or the other.

"Yeah, alright," Max says. "I'll do a fashion show."

Daniel claps and leads Max over to the dining room table where an already-opened cardboard box holds an assortment of red, blue, white, and orange apparel. He holds up one of the pull-overs, assessing which to try first.

"They're just the rough drafts, so let me know if you think they look like ass."

"No, Daniel, they look very cool. I like the classic look. And the big "É." Very you."

Daniel feels his dick twitch in his pants, thinking of Max branded with his label, marked as his, for the world to see. He tosses the shirt into Max's arms and pulls out a pair of summery shorts to match. "Just give these a spin. I sent them your size, so they should fit."

Daniel has seen how deep the flush can go over the years, like an old-timey thermometer measuring of how flustered his younger friend can get. He bites his full lips as his neck turns pink.

"I, uh, might be a bit bigger right now. But they'll fit for Melbourne. I'll look better."

"You look great now, Max."

Max spins on his heels and into the adjacent half-bath, door closing, as if Daniel hadn't seen him almost naked before. Daniel sits on the barstool at the kitchen island.

Sometimes he hates gooning this fucking horny friendship line and wishes he could just buck up the nerve to say something. Anything. Maybe now that they're not somewhat teammates, it'd be okay? Or is it inappropriate for a patron to think about cupping their client's ass and spreading his soft flesh-

"Okay, remember, they'll fit better in a few months."

Daniel looks up and feels his body tighten as he takes in the sight of him. Max squirms in the pull-over, zipper done all the way up. The orange sleeves hug his full arms, and the white, soft fabric stretches tight along his chest. Oh God, his tits, Daniel thinks guiltily before trying and failing to think about the design aspect of all this and not how Max's soft stomach pulls the pullover's fabric taught. His fuller belly peeks over the top of the shorts. His hips, always seemingly begging to be held, curve and slope down to full thighs. Max shaved. His normally fuzzy legs smooth as he shifts his weight on one bare foot to the other.

"I know," Max says, voice nervy. "It happens every year. I'm on holiday, but I'll get better."

"Don't say that," Daniel gets up. He feels the line veering closer, like pushing too hard on a circuit he knows by heart. He stops just an inch beyond appropriateness. "You look great."

"Daniel." He can't parse the pleading note in Max's voice, something shaky.

"You always look so good this way," Daniel goes on, watching Max's big blue gaze get thrown in starker contrast as his cheeks flush again. Max even shaved his face. He looks so young, like when he was his teamma-

"Daniel," Max says again. "I just feel too big."

"You're perfect, Max. You normally don't wear these things zipped all the way up, though. More like this,"

The line. Daniel crosses it, fingers gently pulling the pull-over's zipper down at an agonizingly slow rate. He didn't realize Max was holding his breath until he shudders a shaky exhale.

"Does it feel good?" Daniel asks, hands trailing up the sleeves, feeling the soft fabric casing Max's biceps.

"Yes. It's good."

"And not too tight here?" Daniel lets his hands draw inwards along Max's chest. Seeing he's already blown past the point of no return, he lets his palms rest over Max's full breasts. "Is it okay?"

Max nods, fast. Through parted reddened lips, Daniel sees Max's perfect, glistening tongue against his straight teeth.

Daniel squeezes. Max keens, a note Daniel has never heard from the other man. He rubs, making gentle circles over hardening nipples.

"Oh, Daniel," Max whispers.

"Maxy," Daniel returns, hands trailing lower, feeling the full rise of his belly. "Breathe."

Max acquiesces, belly shuddering. Daniel relishes the soft, pliable skin below the warm fabric.

"You look so good like this, Max," he says, stepping even closer. He lets his gaze dip, feeling Max's head lower to rest their foreheads together as Daniel stares at his soft belly. He rubs gentle lines around it, dick hardening as Max lets his body go even softer. He could even look three months pregnant, how round and full he fills out the top.

Max whispers his name again and then again as Daniel pulls up the fabric and finally touches smooth skin and then once more as Daniel's fingers dip into the waistband of the shorts, exploring back as Daniel presses flush to squeeze his hands into Max's full, soft ass.

"You deserve to feel good," Daniel says into Max's ear, words falling on the red nape of his neck. "At every weight, you deserve to be so fucking worshiped, Max."

"Oh my God, Daniel."

Daniel squeezes again, more firmly this time as he traces up to hold his pillowy hips. They always look so bitable in his fireproofs, and now they're filling out even more in the too-tight shorts, begging to be gripped. To be used for everything Daniel has wanted for years.

"I know," Daniel says, suddenly self-conscious, "this is, uh, a lot."

"It's good," Max asserts, his own hands flying to Daniel's back as if to keep him in place. "If it's good for you."

Daniel snorts a laugh, letting his hips rut forwards. His stiff cock meets Max's soft thigh. Max whines.

"More than good, Maxy." He presses his lips into heated, soft skin at Max's shoulder. "You're perfect like this. So fucking perfect." He reels at Max pressing his own hard length into Daniel's hips. It's bliss. Max's body, warm and eager and full and, for now, his.

"Alright, so, should I try on the others?" Max asks, a gentle mirth in his tone.

"Yeah, let me help you take these off first."

[endlesslyhyperfixating]

This Is What You Wanted, Right? – SydCarmy & Subtext

Every time Carmy says “This is what you wanted, right?” to Sydney, it feels like Storer and Calo are straight-up taunting us. Like, "Yeah, you wanted this dynamic? This push-and-pull? This agonizingly slow burn? Well, buckle up." They know exactly what they’re doing.

LET ME EXPLAIN

Season 1, Episode 3: "Brigade"

This is the first time Carmy drops the phrase, and it sets the tone for their entire relationship. He’s trying to implement the brigade system, but Sydney’s not on board with how rigid and intense it is. Their exchange goes:

Carmy: "You told me that's what you wanted."

Sydney:"No. I-I said I wanted more to do. I didn't say I wanna run a Russian gymnastics program."

Right away, it’s clear—Sydney asked for something, and Carmy, in typical Carmy fashion, took it and ran with it to an extreme. But the way he phrases it? It’s not just about the brigade system. It’s a challenge. You wanted to be here, didn’t you? You wanted to work with me? And that’s something we see again and again: Sydney choosing to be in Carmy’s orbit, even when it’s a lot.

This is a great starting point for their relationship because it shows that in order for them to be on the same page they have to jump through a few hurdles or misunderstanding and miscommunication first. They will have many obstacles to face before really hearing each other, and for things (between them) to work "the way I think we both want it to work."

Hello. So much subtext in almost every line between these two it makes me CRAZY.

Season 1, Episode 7: "Review"

Now, things get even more intense. The kitchen is a disaster, tensions are at an all-time high, and Carmy—who is spiraling under the weight of it all—snaps at Sydney:

Carmy: "This is what you wanted, right?"

It’s not a genuine question. It’s a LOADED one. There’s frustration, maybe even resentment, but beneath that? There’s an understanding. Sydney wanted something—more responsibility, more control, a partnership with Carmy—and now she’s feeling the full weight of it.

He told her that her dish wasn't ready. — he wasn't ready for her. And because she put herself out there, and was enjoyed and appreciated by someone else it stings in a different way for him, hearing the review of her superb risotto dish. Hence his frustration towards the pre-order option being left open over night only being excelled due to this.

And this moment is key because it isn’t just about work and the frustrations there, but It’s about them. Their dynamic. Their push and pull.

Season 2, Episode 8: "Bolognese"

This one right here is such a quietly brutal moment. Sydney’s pissed because Carmy’s been running ideas by Claire—who, at this point, is basically in the periphery of everything going on with the restaurant—and it’s clear Sydney feels totally blindsided. So she says:

Sydney: "–So, I should I also send my revised COGS to your girlfriend?"

Carmy: "You don't need to send anything—she's not my girlfriend."

Sydney: "So she's not even your girlfriend."

Carmy: "Right."

Sydney: "And we're, like, arranging this menu—"

Carmy: "She's not arranging anything and she's not looking at the menu—this is what you wanted originally and that is what I'm giving you–"

That line? Oof. He says it AGAIN. And it hits different this time. There’s this weird bitterness to it, like he’s using her own ambition against her to justify why he’s messing things up. It’s defensive, but it’s also exposing—because if it really was “what she wanted,” why does he sound so wounded? Why is she so hurt? It’s not just about logistics. It's not even about Claire, really. It’s about the rift between them.

It's about Carmy choosing to confide in someone else. It’s about Sydney realizing that the “partnership” she thought they were building isn’t quite what she thought it was. And again, choice comes back—choosing each other, or not.

It's straight up saying all these people want is a bit(or all) of each other. Sydney doesn't want to share his focus, just as Carmen wants all of hers.

This, (as far as I know/remember) is the last time he directly says this exact phrase to her. From season one to two it was a challenge to her. A challenge for their relationship. "This is what you wanted?" Almost always checking in with her, too.

It's like saying, hey, yeah, we know the pressure's a lot, and often you feel like throwing a brick in my face, but it's what you chose. It's what you want.

Storer Knows Exactly What He's Doing

The writers love their little winks at the audience, and this phrase? It’s definitely one of them. Every time Carmy says "This is what you wanted” to Sydney, it’s like the show is turning to us, the SydCarmy truthers, and saying:

"This is what you wanted, right?"

A relationship that’s layered, complicated, built on mutual ambition and unspoken tension? A connection that’s frustratingly slow, where every tiny shift feels monumental? The show is teasing us, making us earn whatever payoff is coming. (And it is.)

And the proof that this is all intentional? Fast-forward to Season 3, Episode 1, when Sydney asks why Carmy is changing everything, and he responds with:

"So I can push you, and you can push me."

It’s all connected. From "You wanted to work here, right?” to “This is what you wanted, right?” to “So I can push you, and you can push me.” It’s all part of the same conversation. A question of choice. Of whether they’ll keep choosing each other, through the chaos, through the pressure, through everything. Despite the obstacles, despite the slow realization, they keep coming back to each other. They're gonna keep coming back to each other.

Because we know that everything in this show is purposeful. It's meaningful. And these significant repeating lines are powerful tools to hint and push us towards what they're working for. It's a question of how long can they keep this up.

And we already know the answer.

So yeah, it’s going to be slow. It’s going to be maddening. But this is what we wanted, right?

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 1!

happy new year, everyone!! we're kicking the year off with a slightly shorter rec list than usual - i've been spending a lot more time with family, and a lot less time reading - of lovely, lovely fics. enjoy!!

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

all i want for christmas... | Tizniz/@tizniz | 3.4k | GA

“So…I don’t think we’re gonna make it back for Christmas.” Buck closes his eyes and takes a breath, letting the full impact of Eddie’s words hit him for a second. “Y-yeah, man. Of course. I totally get it.” He swallows, “Your family is there, anyways.” i am still thoroughly enjoying a few more holiday fics and this one was an absolute highlight this week!! so soft and lovely <3

'cause i took the long road to find you wanting me | BekkaChaos/@bekkachaos | 6k | T

Buck can't bring himself to act normal around Eddie in the days after he reveals he's looking for houses in El Paso, he knows that Eddie leaving will be one of the most painful things he'll have to endure, but he refuses to tell him that he shouldn't go. After a few days, Eddie comes to Buck's loft unannounced to confront him about it, and everything becomes even more complicated. i LOVE this fic's characterisation of buck so very much <3 so good!!

every corner of this house is haunted | justhockey | 2.5k | GA

And now that love is everywhere, is in everything. It’s worn so deeply into the grooves of his skin that it’s changed the very structure of his fingerprint - is burrowed so deep inside of him that it has rewritten his DNA. His love for Eddie and for Christopher is carved into his bones - etched onto his heart like an epitaph: love lived here. Love left here. the excitment i feel whenever i see a new justhockey fic <3 i mean seriously, do you need to read more than those two little summary paragraphs to be convinced to read this gem of a fic? i don't think you do. click the link, you know you want to <3

honey came in and she caught me red-handed | lizzybizzyzzz/@lizzybizzyzzz | 9.3k | E

buck accidentally sends eddie nudes; they fuck it out. so hot so good so them <3 oh how i love buddie accidentally sending each other nudes, and this fic is right there among the very best of them!!

if only in my dreams | songbvrd/@songbvrd | 9.2k | GA

Eddie moves to El Paso a month before Christmas. Buck goes a little bit insane about it. at this point a michelle rec list isn't a michelle rec list without a fic by songbvrd on it lol. what can i say, i know what i like, and this author happens to write a lot of it! i love buck going a little bit insane over eddie moving and his decorating and the buddie and just everything <3

pluto is not a planet. | gooondocks (happyhauntt)/@happyhauntt | 3.2k | GA

buck finds out that pluto isn't a planet anymore and takes it very personally. this fic is so so gorgeously written. the most beautiful character study introspection buck fic. genuinely just that good <3

with all the clouds around (it's never been clearer than now) | seachanged | 2.4k | T

It happens on a Saturday. Or, it starts on a Friday that turns into Saturday, the easy joy of the night tipping over into the pale, vulnerable light of the morning; dazzling in its inevitability.  the buddie dynamic here is so so good, a little teasing and a little flirty but mostly so very soft <3 lovely fic!!

[faceofpoe]

On the highly contentious unraveling of Cassian Andor (and how season 2 is at its heart about his relationship with Luthen).

(This has nothing to do with justifying or not fuck-all about Rogue One Cassian beyond getting him to that beach, I'm an Andor girlie just working my head around what we've built and where it's going in the context of the show).

I had a lot of issues with arc 1, and some of those issues (like ducking around pillars at a wedding to have the hey we're gonna have to murder that guy talk or, why is Kleya even here?) are not going to go away BUT as someone whose brain wasn't exploded by season 1 until seeing the full big picture come together (Rix Road, beloved), I promised myself a full season rewatch to try to recalibrate.

I haven't rewatched yet, but let's have a 75% recalibration now that arcs 2 and 3 have led us where they have to much fandom furor, and mulling how we bring this whole thing together.

Which brings me back to: this season is at its heart about Cassian's relationship with Luthen, and his acceptance at the end of season 1 that Luthen was right, he's going to die fighting the Empire - so either kill me right now, or put me to good use fighting these bastards for real.

Season 2 came to us with a gigantic ask: engage with the negative space. We have to imagine how Cassian went from big wet bambi eyes above to Mr Earnest-Reassuring-Come-Into-The-Circle with Niya. Mr Empire's-Most-Wanted is sneaking into top secret facilities and doing it with confidence and -

Shit goes instantly sideways. This isn't even the right ship, did anybody know that?? (they didn't, obviously they didn't, they don't know what's gone wrong, and this is really important I think about the fallout of this arc). Cassian's off having a terrible time while Luthen and Kleya are spying and drinking on Chandrila and he doesn't check in and this isn't normal.

It's been a year+ since season 1. Partagaz tells Dedra she's been on the Axis hunt for "almost two years" I believe so presumably we've jumped decently down the calendar year for the 4bby arc.

I have a lot of feels on how Cassian's arc one story should have had more time to breathe, to make the losses punch harder at the end by showing him leaving home, etc, but perhaps that is also the point -

He's good at this; he's accepted his pact with Luthen, one day he'll die fighting - but they're tucked away safe. Brasso's looking out for everyone, Brasso who he tasked with looking out for Maarva if he could. We're meeting him on the high point of thinking he can have it both ways and... perhaps not fearing what happens back home, if this mission or that is the one from which he doesn't return. They'll pull through. This is perhaps his era of: the Cause comes first; we take what's left. And he's balancing it, or thinks he is anyway.

Dashing off home and having found that unraveled while he was having The Worst time on Yavin - captured by, theoretically, allies -

The balance is upended, and cue crisis of faith. Not in the Cause per se, but in Luthen. He gave his own life up to Luthen but now the situation has changed on multiple levels. He's rattled by the failure on Kleya & Luthen's end on Sienar, doesn't have Brasso, doesn't have this illusion of safety on Mina-Rau, Bix and Wilmon both get involved, but Cassian isn't handling it well. There's no "take what's left" when she's right there in the line of fire too. Bix questions his decisions in the field, Luthen... his exchange with Kleya in 2.6 is telling.

"This isn't the piece we need."

"We knew that already."

"I thought seeing it in person would make a difference."

Cassian is not the operative he was where we met him with Niya. Sending him to Ghorman is something of a confirmation of something they've clearly been realizing/discussing. Luthen going to check on Bix/put her to work/whatever was the deal there - this seems very much Not The Norm by her reaction, they don't have a lot of face-to-face contact I would guess - he's doing his own assessment of just what is the situation here. (In the most dickish way possible of course, my problematic beloved.)

Cassian's at this complicated intersection of having lost this comfortable place where he can risk and trust his family's safety. Luthen and Kleya are having their own meltdown over how chaotic their operation has become. Cassian... is probably thinking about that bad intel for Sienar and wondering when the next catastrophic fuck-up that isn't his fault is going to cost something else while Bix is over here being the far better adjusted one about just what war looks like and how unreasonable his mentality about her presence. And I'm really curious if we're meant to read in the sudden appearance of "I have friends everywhere" that this was an effort to avoid another experience like the Maya Pei Brigade.

And then Luthen asks him to see about stoking the flames on Ghorman. (I'm still trying to decide how I feel about the sort of 'having it both ways' aspect of Ghorman and provocation and 'it never mattered anyway the ending was already written.')

And Cassian says: "I'll sit this one out." He doesn't take the order, he decides he wants no part in it. And that is where the final fracture in kill me or take me in finally happens.

He doesn't trust the vision anymore. Doesn't trust that the inevitable tragedy will be worth something in the end. Is this fighting these bastards for real? And is starting, perhaps, to wonder if it was worth it at all, to walk back off that ship to Gangi Moon.

And somewhere in the next year, Cassian starts to come to terms apparently with the fact that he doesn't trust Luthen with his life anymore. But he's not quite all-in with Yavin and Draven either. He's maybe still grappling with the acceptance, or inevitability, or not, that the fight will claim his life in the end - and he's lost his faith in Luthen spending it well. Sometime in this time gap after arguing over Ghorman, the fallout with Cinta, getting shot and struggling with recovery... it unsettles him into retreating, ducking Luthen's calls, until Wilmon turns up with compelling incentive.

[insert Force-ex-machina plot here to heighten his internal struggle]

And at the root of their conversation before the Mon extraction is basically Cassian refusing the assertion from 1.4 - this end is not already written. His own decisions matter. Arcs 1 and 2 only validated his teenage understanding that rebellion is pointless and all they'll do is fight themselves one way or another and, Ghorman has validated his plea with Maarva that she can't beat them. People stand up, they die.

And he has a very similar sort of conversation with Luthen as he had with Maarva and gets much the same response. Still work to be done. Luthen doesn't ask Cassian to stay, but he gives him the "I can't go." They're done. Cassian's done.

[I have quarantined the unfolding of the Bix departure in my brain, Bix's story is now Tether, sorry, I hate it so much, and it could have very much worked without the Force healer Force-ex-machina of it and probably with different timing, anyway]

Anyway Bix pulls the "if you leave, it won't be for me."

So we the audience know of course that Cassian is going to stay. Ironically, perhaps, in a far less make-my-own-decisions friendly capacity within the military hierarchy than he ever was with Luthen. And it will be interesting to see how we meet him at the opening of arc 4. He's presumably got Wilmon and Vel and Melshi and K2SO. He's finally seen the Rebellion pull together; Bix ripped away his fantasy (and it is a fantasy, he knows it's a fantasy because it's played out already on Ferrix and Niamos and Mina-Rau) that there's somewhere safe they could get away from it all.

Will he trust Draven & co to spend his life for good again? Or perhaps he simply can't bring himself to care so much either way after all of the turmoil surrounding Ghorman and the fallout and Bix. Orders are orders and good soldiers follow orders and here he is now, slapped into a uniform with a rank on his chest (idk if he ever actually wears the uniform with rank insignia between all the amazing coats in R1 but you get me) and he'll play the part because what else is there?

But Luthen is still out there, against just about every prediction for how this season would unfold. Luthen is the one puzzling over Ghorman and Dedra, demanding the endgame. Luthen isn't finished.

And I guess the question is, since we know how this ends - what is the force the propels Cassian along to Kafrene to kick off the final mission?

Just a soldier following orders?

Or are we going to wrap this back around to that s1 claim and that pact and the extension of broken trust and give Luthen something of a chance to earn it back (possibly posthumously), in sending Cassian along to the meaningful death he promised?