#She throws herself into her work to try and cope and when that works she finds a way to functionally kill herself without losing her job-

[angelsdean]

I agree with your Mary posts! I also think Dean asking her to "be a mom" in that scene is not about wanting her to baby them but simply just wanting her to choose her sons over the organization that let one of its members literally torture and r*pe Sam only a few episodes before that!

Literally Dean is so very clear in that scene that what he's upset abt is her choosing the BMOL over them. Not abt her not "parenting" them or playing "mommy." He's just upset that she doesn't seem to want to be around them, and that she instead has been working with their enemies. And even if that wasn't her intention, even if she was in fact doing it "for" them and trying to protect them by working with the enemy they're still allowed to be hurt by her decision.

She tells them that she's been struggling, trying to play three decades of catch up and Dean tells her they have been struggling too. They have been grieving her their whole lives. But now that she's here they want her there. She's finally alive, they finally have a chance to be together, and she keeps leaving. And that hurts. But he also understands and sympathizes. He tells her, "You said that you needed time. No, you said you need space. So we gave you your space." They have been patient with her. Dean understands very well needing time and space to process things. But what hurts is that, from his perspective, it seems like she is choosing anyone but them. So when he says, "No, you needed space from us," and when she says she's "trying" and he cuts in with "How 'bout for once, you just try to be a mom?" IMO it's less about wanting her to "mother" them and play mommy and more about wanting her to be present in their lives, to choose them, to unconditionally love and support them and shoulder some of the pain and burdens they have been carrying on their own their whole lives. He wants, for once, to have a parent that CHOOSES him over the "mission." Like, don't people think that maybe seeing another parent walk out on him and choose hunting / work over being present in his life is a little bit upsetting / salting old wounds?

Anyways, I love Mary, though some may think it's a hashtag Crime to sympathize with Dean in this scene but like ??? Some people are projecting a lot of stuff Dean did not say or express in that scene. His upset and main criticism is about her choosing the BMOL over them, that's made clear in this exchange:

Dean: So between us and them – Mary: It's not like that. Dean: Yeah, Mary, it is. And you made your choice. So there's the door.

It's not about wanting her to play some "mom" role as if they were children. He wants her to choose them over their adversaries, and to be around them, get to know them, something both Dean and Sam want to do.

Anyways, I am always saying I would have loved more from this arc esp re: Mary's grief over losing her "babies." I think a lot of what Mary's feeling would've hit harder if they'd showed us more of her grief. (The "I need you to see me" scene hits so good for me bc it's tied up with this complicated grief. Mary finally acknowledging that adult Dean IS her baby. Truly SEEING him, instead of the perpetual 4 yr old that lives in her mind). But I don't blame her for wanting / needing space to process (deancoded!) or for throwing herself into hunting to Cope (john-and-sam coded!). Or for struggling with her identity in this new life. I enjoy all the tension and her being flawed and real and messy.

[jack-of-heartstrings]

The issue with this is that it's not just "plot armor". It's about characterization. Ladybug "could" risk her life to protect Chat but that's not Ladybug's character.

Chat being reckless and chaotic and constantly throwing himself in danger is a character flaw, and it's also part of his core strength. He is brave and loyal, and when Ladybug asks for blind faith, he rarely has any trouble giving it. He doesn't stop to question, and sometimes that's exactly what's needed to take decisive action. When there's no time to stop and deliberate, he's the guy you want on the job.

It's just that when there is time, and he's being impatient or having trouble regulating his anger or taking on a martyr mentality putting faith in her she didn't ask for, then it can become a problem. And it's been a while since we've seen much issue or consequence with that, but... I'll come back to this.

In the same way, Marinette overthinking everything makes her a trainwreck in her daily life and it's literally her strength as Ladybug. Being able to figure out how to use something absurd is a direct result of her brain racing 10 million miles a minute analyzing every possibility.

But even as Ladybug, she can be overly cautious and overthink. She can be too slow to act and miss opportunities, and when she does try to push herself to act fast, she's often bad at it. That's how you get "no, today HAS to be the day, I'll deliver this gift as Ladybug!" and hello Chat Blanc. That's how you get "I'm not being a good girlfriend if I can't figure out how to become friends with my boyfriend's friends and oh no now she's gonna think I'm a liar so I need to act fast" and oh there go her legs. And in a different way, trusting her gut more than her head is how you get "we can think and work out a solution on our own, human scale" but he already had his solution, Marinette.

Everyone is a mess right now. It's not just the lovebirds nervous about their new relationship. Gabriel's looming presence as shown in the new intro is still deeply impacting things on both sides. It's in how she now has a much worse Secret driving her to try harder than ever to never allow herself any missteps with him, because in her mind she "owes" him more than she can ever repay. But it's also in Adrien.

Adrien is exploring freedom for the first time in his life, but he was still quietly grieving his mom when he also lost his dad. The one time he decided he COULDN'T be there for Ladybug, his dad died, and without the fully story, in his mind, maybe he could have made a difference.

In what world would he NOT be regressing back to being his most impulsive protective self? Under what circumstances would it make sense for him to be behaving calmly and rationally right now? When he stops to worry, he gets scared, and bad things happen. When she doesn't constantly worry, she makes stupid choices, and bad things happen. They're both overcompensating to cope.

For the antikumas specifically:

I DO agree it would be nice to see Carapace take that hit sometimes too. (Minotaurox might need to become the designated shield, since his power is specifically invulnerability to magic, so he might be the anti-antikuma? But we'll see. If not, him too.)

But I doubt they're just "worfing the cat" for cheap drama. Since it keeps happening, I'm expecting him to get antikuma'd several times over the course of the season, to get us to a point where we expect it, but then to make something of it. Either it builds to a point where that recklessness has MUCH WORSE consequences and it's a major plot event, or he keeps doing this to a point he gets more competent helping without powers and becomes more of a badass because what's crippling to his teammates has become an expected inconvenience to him. Possibly both. Either way, give it time.

Ok so the daddycop trailer shows cat getting antikuma'd mid air... and let me just say:

Can we stop Worfing the cat? Like, at every opportunity?

I get that "hero takes a hit" and "hero goes down" are dramatic narrativs beats, and that for structural "shes the healer" reasons these beats cant go to marinette. But in a post-team era? Can those beats please go to other people on occasion?

We literally have 2 heroes with dedicated "meatshield" powers (invulnerable Ivan and nino the shieldbearer). For the "just protect mari" scenario's, and we have an entire b-team that is just as easily resurectable as Adrien.

[inkperch]

I really wish modern aus would acknowledge that there's no universe where Scara was planned, the closest human equivalent to his messy origins imho is 'Ei went on a year long bender to try and cope with her sisters death, ended it with a baby and no clue who the father is'

[himblebo]

I just want to be allowed to scream at my sister the way she screams at me. I want to be allowed to slam doors and throw things and break things. I want to be allowed to react to the way she treats us and not be called selfish.

[trashytracktales]

I need lando ANGST. Make me cry! But also smut! Goshhhh I need it. Something like they’ve been distancing each other and things have been so tense and one day lando catches reader getting herself off so he says ‘if you wanted me to fuck you all you had to do was ask.’ And then he ruins here. But lots of angst in the beginning. Ty I love you xx

Endings, beginnings | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Well. I was sobbing while writing this. Hope you're proud of yourself 💔

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𐙚 summary ──── They’re at a breaking point in their relationship, their stubbornness and jealousy pushing them so close to the edge. After agreeing to distance each other during an exhausting triple header, Lando returns home unexpectedly to find her in his apartment, trying to cope with his absence.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, angst, smut, toxic dynamics, emotional distress, descriptive language, masturbation, oral & fingering ─ (f)receiving, unprotected sex, swearing, potential relationship breakdown.

𐙚 word count ──── 5.1k

𐙚 date ──── Dec. 12, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── This is my 10th work ayeee! Thank you guys so much for investing your time into reading my silly little stories, and for trusting me enough to bring your requests to life. I appreciate you a lot 🤍🎀

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IT'S LATE. THE kind of hour that turns Monaco into a still painting, muted and hollow, yet as breathtaking as ever.

Lando isn’t supposed to be home yet. The plan was to stay in Brazil for a couple more days after the race, but plans change when you're a professional overthinker. Somewhere between the chaos of three back-to-back races, he couldn’t stand the thought of another night in a hotel.

He needed to be in his own space so he could think.

The elevator ride to his floor seems like going on forever, his suitcase dragging heavily behind him, its wheels scratching aggressively against the polished floors the second he gets out of it. He’s expecting silence; an empty apartment, untouched, heavy with the ghosts of their last argument. But when he opens the door, the faint smell of her perfume hits him hard across the face, and his heart tightens.

His living room is dimly lit, the soft glow of a scented candle casting long shadows on the walls. A throw blanket is draped over the couch, and a half-empty mug of tea sits forgotten on the coffee table.

And then he sees her.

She’s curled up on the couch, wearing one of his oversized hoodies. Its sleeves cover her hands as she hugs her knees to her chest, her face partially hidden in the dim light of the room. Her hair is a little messy, and there’s a redness to her eyes that tells him she hasn’t been sleeping well — he knows he shouldn't, but he's glad he isn't the only one losing sleep over this. On a deeper level, it means they both care enough to let it consume them.

So, it has to count for something, right?

For a moment, he just stands there, staring. Then, the words spill out before he can stop them, or think of something else to ask, “Why are you here?”

Her head snaps toward him, her wide eyes betraying a mix of surprise and guilt. She looks like a deer caught in the headlights, frozen in place.

She straightens slightly, pulling the hoodie tighter around herself. “Lan…” she blinks in amazement, her voice barely audible.

“I just asked you a question,” he says, sharper than he initially intended.

He's not usually like this. But considering how they left things before he had to go, Lando is entitled to ask questions. It was her suggestion to separate, and finding her here only messes with his head more.

“I… know. I'm sorry,” she looks away, her fingers tugging at the hem of the hoodie. “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” his suitcase thuds against the floor while he fixes his eyes on her. “Why are you in my apartment? We said we’d take some time apart.”

Her shoulders hunch defensively, but her voice remains the same as he knows it — soothing, carrying so much tenderness that it could stop wars. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Lando exhales harshly, nodding while dragging a hand through his curls. “We agreed on space, remember?” he insists, “You can’t just show up here like nothing happened.”

“I didn’t—show up,” she snaps, her tone suddenly sharper. “I’ve been here for a while. I didn’t know you were coming back so soon,” she repeats.

“Okay, then. Let me get this straight. You're here, but you don’t answer my texts anymore,” he fires back. “Does that make any sense to you? ‘Cause it sure as hell doesn't for me.”

“I was going to,” she retorts, standing now, the oversized hoodie swallowing her frame.

Lando takes a step forward, his hands on his hips. “I don't understand you. I thought this was what you wanted,” he says, his voice quieter but no less intense. “Space. Time. A chance to figure out if we even work anymore.”

“Yes,” the girl agrees, “I wanted to figure us out, not pretend we don’t exist.”

Lando's voice rises, his frustration spilling over, “You think I’m pretending? I’m doing what I thought you wanted! Because every time we’re together, we just end up—”

“Fighting,” she finishes bitterly. “Yeah, I know. Do you think I enjoy feeling like this all the time?”

His shoulders slump slightly, the fight draining out of him. “I don’t know,” he admits, his voice softer now. “I don’t know what to think or do anymore.”

They stand there in silence, the weight of their shared frustration pressing down on them. She sits back down on the couch, clasping her hands on the edge of it.

When she finally speaks again, her voice cracks. “I don't want to fight, Lando. I’ve been staying here because I couldn’t be in my own place. Everywhere I looked, I saw you. I thought maybe if I stayed here, it would make sense to feel your presence, because it's your place.”

Lando’s jaw tightens as he lets her words sink in. The sight of her, wearing his clothes with tears in her eyes makes his chest ache. He wants to wrap himself around her and make sure nothing will ever hurt her again, but the ego works a double shift tonight.

Still, “I'm not mad that you're here,” he clarifies. “But why didn’t you tell me?” asks Lando quietly.

“I didn’t think it would make a difference,” she whispers. “I planned to leave before you… Well, it doesn't matter now.”

“See, that right there is the fucking problem. Of course it matters! Why wouldn't—”

“Because!” her firm voice interrupts him. “We keep hurting each other, and I honestly don’t think we'll ever stop. You’re stubborn and selfish, and I’m jealous, and we both jump to the worst conclusions about each other all the fucking time.”

Lando sighs, “Right,” he says after a pause, his voice laced with guilt. “I am stubborn and selfish,” he agrees, “I get angry too fast. Is that it? And you—you think I’m always looking for a reason to leave.”

Her breath catches as she looks down at a random point on the floor. “Aren’t you?”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He steps much closer, his voice firm. “No. I’m not. But you make it so damn hard to stay sometimes.”

He regrets his words the second they leave his mouth. He's aware that she's not the only one to blame for the situation that they're in, but at the moment, he's making it seem that way. He can't look at her hurt expression, so Lando closes his eyes for a second, a long silence settling in the distance dug so deeply between them.

She continues to look at him, anger flaring in her eyes. “Yeah, well, you make it hard to trust you, Lando. Every time you’re away, I feel like I’m waiting for the other bomb to drop.”

He finally opens his eyes, rubbing a hand over his face. “Alright, what do you want from me, hm?” he asks. “I don't know what you expect me to do.”

Her voice breaks as she replies, “I don't have any expectations left. I just want to stop feeling like I’m losing you all the time.”

Lando’s face softens, the exhaustion from weeks of racing and months of fighting etched into every line. He steps closer, slowly, until he’s standing in front of her. He crouches down so they’re eye level, his expression conflicted.

Even as hurt as she is now, he is still amazed by her beauty. Gazing down at him, she spreads her legs gently so she could make more room for him in her space. However, she's doesn't dare to touch him, no matter how badly she needs to feel him, just to remind herself that he's real.

“I'm so fucking tired, baby,” says Lando, his voice breaking slightly. “Aren’t you tired?”

She nods, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Every day, especially when you're not here,” she chokes out. “But I still want to try. God, Lando, I can’t imagine not trying.”

His hands reach for hers almost instinctively, but he acts with the same hesitation, pulling back at the last second. She notices, the flicker of hurt on her face evident in the way she squeezes her eyes shut, only to erase that image from her memory.

They sit in silence for a while, the air thick with unresolved issues and the weight of everything they can’t say. He studies her, trying to think ahead, but it’s impossible when she's like this — indecisive and lost.

Finally, Lando stands up, exhaling sharply. “I need a shower,” he mutters, heading toward the bathroom without another word.

She watches him go, her heart sinking. She’s still here, but somehow, it feels like she’s further away from him than ever. All she wants to do is jump into his arms and tell him she's missed him so much these past few weeks. Tell him how much she loves him, and that she would do anything to see him happy and satisfied with their life together. But she's too far away, and if she doesn't jump high enough, she could find herself free-falling, with no one to catch her on the other side. And that's too much of a risk, even for her.

When Lando comes back, his hair damp and his expression unreadable, she’s standing by the window, looking out at the city lights.

She doesn’t turn when he approaches, but she speaks softly, her voice small. “Do you even want me here?”

Lando freezes, her question cutting deeper than he expects. After a long pause, he answers, his voice low. “Of course,” he says. “But I honestly don’t think it's a good idea.”

She finally turns to look at him, her eyes searching his face. “Yeah…” the girl nods slowly. “I just—Lando. I can’t keep doing this if I’m the only one who believes we can make it.”

Lando nods. “Thing is, I don't know what to believe anymore,” he says honestly, his voice steady.

A simple truth that neither of them wants to acknowledge. But even as the words hang in the air, neither of them moves to leave. Because for all the pain, there’s still something tethering them together — something they’re both terrified to lose.

“I’ll take the couch,” he finally says, tugging the throw blanket off the armrest. His voice is flat, drained of the emotion that had filled it earlier.

“What?” she asks, startled.

“You can have the bed,” he clarifies, avoiding her gaze as he starts arranging the blanket. “It’s late. We’re both tired, and this… we can’t fix this tonight. We should rest and talk it out in the morning.”

She opens her mouth to protest, the words forming instinctively, but then she stops herself. He looks so tired, not just physically but emotionally. His shoulders are tense, his jaw set in that stubborn way she knows so well. He’s trying to create the space she's been asking for — not because he doesn’t care, but because he does.

“Okay,” she ends up saying, her voice small. Defeated. Once again.

At that, Lando turns to meet her eyes, his expression serious, almost distant. It’s a side of him she doesn’t see often, the version of Lando that’s careful and guarded. She hates it, hates the way it makes her feel like a stranger to him. But mostly, she hates that she’s the one who’s brought this out in him.

“Goodnight,” he says softly, his voice tinged with a finality that makes her stomach churn.

Alright then.

“'Night,” she replies, walking past him, their arms touching lightly.

She retreats to his bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her. The familiar scent of him — clean, musky, intoxicating but soothing, grounding her with its quiet presence and making her feel more at home than ever — wraps around her as she crawls into the bed they’ve shared so many times before. But it feels different now, colder, emptier. Foreign, somehow.

For a stupid, silly moment, she lets herself believe that things will be okay in the morning. That they’ll talk, really talk, and find a way back to each other. She clings to that thought as she stares up at the ceiling, her fingers clutching the edge of the blanket. But no matter how hard she tries, she can't shake the feeling that this is it.

Neither of them sleeps for hours after that.

IT'S FOUR IN the morning when Lando lies on the couch, his eyes fixed on the darkened ceiling as his thoughts race. He can hear the faint creak of the bed when she shifts, knowing she's not asleep, either, and it tugs at something deep inside him. He’s never been good at leaving things unfinished, and this is no different.

He pushes himself up from the couch for what feels like the hundredth time, his fingers curling and uncurling in frustration.

Maybe this whole thing was a mistake.

Maybe he shouldn’t have come home.

Maybe this is exactly why they need space, because when they're in each other's proximity, he simply can't think straight. Especially when she's just a few feet away, separated by only a simple door.

A door that masks the sounds of her soft cry.

Then, he hears the same faint sound, broken, but unmistakable. It cuts through his doubts like a knife through butter, sending a sharp pang of guilt and something deeper, a lot darker, straight to his chest. He hesitates for only a moment before moving toward the bedroom, his steps careful, almost hesitant. His hand hovers over the door, his heart pounding against his ribs as he takes a deep breath in.

Lando knocks softly, his voice barely louder than the quiet hum of the apartment. “Is everything okay?”

Nothing.

He knocks again, his jaw tightening.

The silence presses against him, thick and suffocating, until he can’t take it anymore. He twists the knob and pushes the door open, his pulse roaring in his ears as his eyes adjust to the dim light.

She’s sprawled on his bed, the sheets tangled around her hips, one hand clenched in the fabric while the other moves between her thighs. Her head is tilted back, her lips parted in soft, shaky gasps, and her eyes are squeezed shut like she’s trying to block out the rest of the world.

His throat goes dry, his emotions colliding in a chaotic storm of shock, desire, and something dangerously close to anger. Not anger at her — it never is — but at the situation, at the rift between them that’s left her seeking comfort this way. And at himself, for not being able to fix it.

He should walk away. He knows he should. But instead, he steps into the room, his movements slow and calculated as he crosses his arms over his chest, watching her intently.

Her eyes snap open, and for a moment, she looks utterly petrified. Her cheeks flush a deep crimson as she scrambles to sit up, her legs snapping shut as she fumbles for words.

“No, don’t let me interrupt you,” says Lando, his voice low and rough.

“You scared the shit out of me, Lando,” she stammers, her voice trembling. “I thought you were…”

Asleep.

“And I thought you were crying,” he says, wetting his lips. “Well, I was right in a way.”

The words hang heavy in the air, and she looks away, her hands twisting nervously in the sheets. He hates the way she shrinks under his gaze, but he can’t stop himself from taking another step forward. His jaw tightens again. He doesn’t know what to say or do, circling back to the same feeling.

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to feel, either — hurt, anger, longing?

So much lust.

The silence stretches between them until it’s almost unbearable. And then, finally, she moves, swinging her legs off the bed like she’s about to leave.

But he doesn’t let her.

His hand shoots out, grabbing her ankle and tugging her back toward the edge of the bed. Her gasp echoes in the quiet room, her wide eyes locked on his as he steps between her legs, his grip firm but not forceful.

“What are you doing?” she whispers, her voice shaky, a mix of uncertainty and... hope that she already knows the answer.

“Fuck if I know,” he admits. His hands slide up her thighs, spreading them apart again, and he drops to his knees in front of her. “But I can’t just… I can’t leave you like this.”

“Baby,” she breathes, her tone caught between a plea and a warning.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. “Please. I can't take this shit anymore.”

At the sound of his pleading, she reaches out, her fingers threading through his hair as her breath hitches. It’s all the permission he needs to press his lips to her warm entrance, soft and tentative at first, but when she arches into him, her body trembling beneath his touch, something inside him snaps.

Lando doesn’t hesitate once she gives in, her fingers tightening in his hair as her thighs tremble against his shoulders. His hands grip her legs, his touch firm but reverent, holding her open for him like he’s afraid she’ll change her mind.

The first swipe of his tongue over her slit is slow and deliberate, tasting her in a way that makes her breath hitch. He hums low in his throat, the vibration sending a shockwave through her that has her head falling back against the mattress.

“Lan…do,” her voice breaks on his name, a soft moan that sends a shiver down his spine.

“Always so sweet for me, love,” he exhales heavily, her scent intoxicating.

Lando's grip on her thighs tightens as he pulls her closer, his tongue moving with purpose now, circling her clit and flicking in a rhythm that makes her toes curl. The erotic sounds from between her legs make her close her eyes in pleasure, her pussy tightening around him with each intentional stroke of his tongue. He’s thorough, so meticulous, as though he’s trying to commit every whimper and every twitch of her body to memory.

“That's so good, Lan. Feels so good,” she lets out a string of moans, her eyes rolling as the air gets knocked out of her lungs. “Oh, god, I've missed your mouth so much.”

She traces her hand through his hair, holding him while her hips push forward, the bridge of his nose tickling her clit so sweetly. He wants to drown in her, to lose himself in the way she responds to him, every single time.

Each gasp feels like a lifeline, tethering him to something real, something he can hold on to when everything else feels so uncertain. Her fingers curl in his hair, tugging slightly as her hips begin to move against him, chasing the friction he so willingly gives. Lando's jaw clenches at the way she’s unraveling for him, and he redoubles his efforts, his tongue flicking faster, more insistently, as he pulls out to suck gently on her clit.

“Baby, please,” she's almost crying, her voice shaky, but still cutting through the air like a plea for salvation. “Need you… so close.”

Lando doesn’t stop. He can’t. Especially not when her legs start to tremble against him, her breathing becoming erratic as she teeters on the edge. Instead, he slides one hand from her thigh to her hip, pressing her down slightly to keep her steady while his other hand moves swiftly to where he has been tongue-fucking her. His long fingers slide gently through her wetness, curling inside as he finds the spot that makes her see stars.

She feels herself opening wider for him, then clenching harder while he adds just enough pressure to make her body tense, his tongue never ceasing its rhythm.

“Lando, I—” her words dissolve into a broken moan, and he knows she’s close.

His heart pounds in his chest as he keeps going, the sound of his fingers fucking in and out of her pussy blending so beautifully with the noise of his tongue lapping at her clit. He doesn’t care how long it takes; he’ll stay between her thighs forever if he has to. He won't move again until she falls apart beneath him. For him. Maybe then Lando will understand why he needs her so much, why the thought of losing her feels like losing a piece of himself.

When she comes, it’s like the world stops from spinning. Her body tenses, her thighs trembling as she cries out his name, over and over again, her release washing over her in waves. He should pull out and give her time to ride out her orgasm, but his tongue and fingers coaxing her through it, making her gasp for another breath, is sending shocks of ecstasy to his hardened cock. In his desperate attempt to relieve his pain, he rubs himself against the bed, but it is not nearly enough.

Finally, when her hands are falling limply from his hair, that's when Lando slows down his movements. He presses soft kisses against her inner thighs as he pulls back slightly, his hands gently stroking her soft legs.

“You alright?” asks Lando, his voice raw.

She looks down at him, her chest heaving as their eyes meet. There’s something vulnerable in his gaze, something that makes her throat tighten. His lips are swollen and glossy, his chin slick and glistening from her arousal. His breathing is as unsteady as hers, his chest rising and falling rapidly as if he’s just run a marathon. The sight of him like this — completely undone and yet so devastatingly composed — makes her stomach clench with need. More need.

“Mhm,” she manages, heat rising from her chest to her cheeks, while her hand involuntarily travels back between her own legs.

Lando slowly wipes the wetness from his chin with the back of his hand, his eyes never leaving hers. The motion is deliberate, almost taunting, as if he wants her to remember every second of her high. Then he rises to his feet, his big frame towering over her as he leans forward, bracing himself on either side of her hips. Her breath catches as he hovers above her, so beautiful and wrecked, his face so close that she can feel the warmth radiating from his skin.

She expects Lando to kiss her, her lips parting slightly in anticipation, but instead, he tilts his head and murmurs, his voice a low rasp that sends a shiver down her spine.

“If you wanted me to fuck you, all you had to do was ask, baby,” his unfiltered voice makes her heart race in her chest. “I don’t care that we’re fighting. It doesn’t matter how tired I am,” he continues, his eyes dark and piercing as they lock onto hers. “I’ll stop anything, drop everything, just to fuck my needy girl, yeah?”

The bluntness of his words, paired with the raw intensity in his voice, leaves her momentarily speechless, the pads of her fingers collecting whatever is left from her release. She whimpers softly, her lips parting again as she brings her fingers to his, pushing inside his mouth while watching his pupils dilating. Lando sucks on them with the same thirst as earlier, biting softly when she tires to pull out. At that, something inside her snaps. She surges up, her hands gripping the back of his neck as she pulls him into a fierce, desperate kiss.

His lips are warm and soft, slick with the taste of her still lingering there, and she can’t help the way she moans into his mouth. He groans in response, deep and guttural, as his tongue slides between her lips, claiming her in a way that makes her stomach flip.

It feels like fire and desperation, like he’s trying to pour all of his frustration into one single kiss. When his tongue moves against hers, she whimpers, the sensation achingly familiar yet entirely overwhelming. It feels like he’s everywhere, like he’s consuming her from the inside out, and she doesn’t want it to stop. Ever.

“Lan,” she moans into his mouth, “Please…”

Her pleading seem to break something in him. Lando pulls back just enough to meet her gaze, his lips curling into a slow, crooked grin, making her realize how bad she's missed seeing it. There’s something tender yet profoundly sad in his expression, though, a quiet heartbreak that makes her chest burn.

“Please, what? Hm, what do you need?” he murmurs, his hand tracing a soft, reverent path down her body.

His fingers graze her collarbone, her ribs, her hip, each touch filled with a tenderness that feels almost out of place amidst the heat between them. But she doesn’t care about the sadness or the hesitation. Not right now. She arches into his touch, her hands clutching at his shoulders as she's whispering nonsense, too drunk on him to make more sense than that.

Lando’s breath mingles with hers, his lips brushing hers in the faintest of kisses as he whispers, “You aching for me, baby?”

Her nod is small, almost imperceptible, but he feels it, and his hand slips down to her hip, grounding her. The weight of his touch is familiar, comforting even, and it sends a tremor through her body that she doesn’t try to hide.

“Hurts so bad,” she admits, her voice cracking as her eyes meet his.

“I know,” he nods slowly, his voice thick with emotion. “Can I me make it better?”

“Always.”

He presses his lips to hers fully now, a slow, lingering kiss that feels like a balm against the ache between them. It starts soft, tentative, as if they’re testing the waters, but quickly grows deeper. His tongue sweeps across her bottom lip, and she opens for him, sighing into his mouth as he kisses her with all the longing, irritation, and so much love that he’s been holding back.

His hands move with purpose, sliding under the hem of her shirt — his shirt — and pushing it up, exposing her bare skin. She gasps as his palms graze her sides, his touch igniting a fire that spreads through her veins.

Lando pulls back just enough to tug the shirt over her head, his eyes darkening as he takes her in. “My beautiful baby,” he says, almost like he’s reminding himself that she still belongs to him and vice versa.

Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t look away. Instead, she reaches for him, her fingers tugging at the hem of his own shirt. He helps her, pulling it off in one fluid motion before pressing his chest against hers, their bare skin meeting in a way that feels like coming back home after a long, tiring trip.

They move together like this, slowly shedding the layers between them until there’s nothing left but their bodies and the weight of everything they've done wrong.

He lowers her onto the bed, his lips never leaving hers as he settles between her legs. The warmth of his body, the solidity of him, makes her feel anchored, even as the storm inside her threatens to consume her. And when he enters her, it’s heaven, deliberate, like he’s savoring every inch of her. She moans, her hands flying to his shoulders as he stretches her, filling her with his perfect length. He stills for a moment, his forehead pressed against hers as they both adjust to his size.

“Remember how easy it used to be?” he whispers.

She nods while his lips are brushing her temple. “Yeah. I remember.”

The first thrust is painfully slow, managing to pull a soft moan from her lips. But soon enough, Lando sets a rhythm, one that feels familiar, almost nostalgic, like they’re trying to recapture the simplicity of how things used to be. She matches him, her hips rising to meet his, their bodies moving together in perfect sync.

As the pace builds, so does the intensity and vulnerability between them. The kisses become messier, more desperate, and his thrusts deepen, driving into her with a force that feels like a mix of anger and love.

“I don’t want this to be the end,” he says suddenly, his voice cracking as her nails dig into his back, leaving crimson lines in their wake.

“No?” she asks, a little hesitant.

His movements falter for a split second before he recovers, his eyes locking onto hers. “God. No, baby,” he says, his voice thick with determination. “We can fix this. I swear we can.”

Tears well in her eyes, and she can see his own glistening in the obscure lighting. They’re both breaking, and yet neither of them wants to let go.

Lando thrusts harder now, the force of it making her cry out as her body arches beneath him. She meets him halfway, her legs wrapping around his waist as she pulls him deeper inside her, as close as humanly possible. The room fills with the sounds of their bodies slapping against each other, their breathing, and their muffled cries.

“I need you,” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the rush of their movements. “Like this, all the time. Only you.”

“You have me,” he replies, his voice breaking. “You’ll always have me, you know that.”

“Promise me,” she demands as she starts clenching around him, the heat building once again inside her.

Lando gasps at the feeling, fucking into her harder. “Shit, baby. I promise you. I promise.”

The weight of his words pushes her over the edge, her release hitting her harder the second time around. She cries out, tears streaming down her face as her body shakes beneath him. He follows moments later, his own climax tearing through him as he buries his face in her neck, his shoulders trembling with the force of it.

They stay like that, tangled together, their bodies molding into each other as they come down from the high. But the tears don’t stop. They cling to each other, crying softly as the reality of their situation crashes down on them.

“I love you so much,” he says, feeling her fingers tracing patterns on his back.

“I love you, too,” she admits without hesitation. “Do you think that's enough?”

Lando lifts his head, his eyes red-rimmed but full of a tentative hope. “No. But it's a start.”

PREVIOUS LN⁴ ONE-SHOT

MASTERLIST

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[whatdoeseverybodywant]

Pieces of Her - Chapter One

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(I know... I know, I should NOT be starting another story but, this idea just won't leave my mind)

“Fuck baby” Jon moaned out, as he gripped Kenya’s hips. Kenya threw her head back in pleasure and she started bouncing on his dick. “Shit” he dragged out.  “Just like that.” Jon's fingers dug into the curve of Kenya’s waist, pulling her closer to him with every bounce. She leaned forward, kissing him deeply, their tongues entwining in a heated exchange. 

“You boutta cum for me, Daddy?” Kenya whispered against his lips and Jon nodded, his hips bucking up to meet her every thrust. Kenya leaned down so that their chests were pressed against each other. The sound of her ass slapping against his thighs triggered his orgasm. 

“Shit! I’m boutta nut!” Hearing him say that made her start to bounce on his dick harder and faster. 

“Go ‘head Daddy, nut in your pussy.” 

“Fuck!” He moaned out, closing his eyes in ecstasy  as her walls tightened around him 

“Trin..” He moaned out and both he and Kenya froze. 

‘Bitch, did you just…” She trailed off, moving off of him and rushing into the bathroom to clean herself up. Jon winced when she slammed the bathroom door shut. 

“Baby! I’m sorry man, I-I” He stuttered trying to come up with a good excuse as to why he said his ex-girlfriend's name as he came inside of his current fiance. He groaned and got off the bed, pulling his briefs back on, and walked over to the bathroom door, frowning when he found it locked. 

“Kenya, I’m sorry. Open the door please.” He jumped as the bathroom door opened and Kenya walked out, now dressed in her pink Louis Vuitton robe. 

“Move out my way.” She said glaring at him. Jon watched with wide eyes as she walked into their closet and came back out with her duffel bag and dressed in a grey hoodie and black leggings. 

“No baby, wait lemme -“ Jon wrapped one of his hands around her forearm trying to stop her but Kenya snatched her arm out of his grasp. 

“Don’t fucking touch me.” She said, looking at him in disgust. “I knew something was up when y’all followed each other back on Instagram. You got me fucked up Fatu.” She said, throwing clothes and some essentials in her duffle bag. 

“No, just let me explain.” Jon tried to grab her arm again but the glare she sent his way stopped him. 

“ I knew this was too good to be true.” Kenya started, motioning her hand between the two of them. “I heard the way your mom and brothers talked about our relationship. How shocked they were when you told them you proposed. You’re mom couldn’t even pretend to be happy Jonathan.” 

Jon felt his heart sink as Kenya's words hit him. He knew she was right. His family had been skeptical of their relationship from the start, always comparing Kenya to Trinity.

Since his mom had met Kenya, she would always try to compare the two. And she would point out all of Kenya's flaws. 

 “Trinity always made sure his clothes were clean before he went on the road.” 

“Trinity always had a warm meal ready for Jon” 

“Trinity was used to life on the road… How are you going to cope with him being gone most of the time?” 

“I was never gonna be good enough, no matter how hard I tried. We we never going to last”  Jon watched helplessly as Kenya finished packing up what she could. She zipped the bag up and placed it on her shoulder. “I’ll try to come back for the rest of my stuff.” 

“Kenya.. Please.” He whispered, his voice cracking as he watched her with teary eyes. “I’m sorry, please don’t go.”  

Kenya scoffed quietly as she made it to their his bedroom door. “Do you know what hurts the most? I always knew that you weren’t over her, like in the back of my mind I knew, but when she left the company I just… I dunno I was hoping you would get over her, but I guess that was silly of me to assume.” 

“Baby... I-I am over her.”

Kenya scoffed again as she noticed his slight hesitation. She let out a sad sigh as she looked around the room she had decorated for their anniversary. Kenya's eyes lingered on the photos she had taped to the strings, their smiling faces mocked her now, a painful reminder of what she thought they had. She blinked back tears and turned her gaze back to him. 

“You’re not and I can’t keep pretending that you are.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, her tears now falling freely down her cheeks. “I deserve better than to be someone’s second choice.” 

She opened the door and walked out of the room, she heard Jon’s footsteps close behind her. “I love you!” He called out after her. “I don’t know why I said her name! I haven’t talked to her in months! I swear baby, It didn’t mean anything!” 

Kenya stopped walking and whirled around to face Jon. “How could you say that? What if I moaned out my ex’s name while you were inside me huh? Would you just be okay with it?” 

Jon fell silent, unable to answer. He knew he'd be devastated if the roles were reversed. Kenya shook her head, disappointed but not surprised by his lack of response.

“Exactly.” She said as she shook her head and opened the front door, walking out and towards her car. She unlocked the doors with the fob and threw her bag into the backseat. She hurriedly hopped into the driver's seat as she noticed Jon rushing towards her, still only dressed in his briefs. 

“Kenya, Please. I’m fucking begging. Just come back inside so we can talk.” Jon said, pulling on the door handle but she had locked it. Kenya stared straight ahead, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as Jon pleaded outside her window. She couldn't bear to look at him, knowing if she did, her resolve might crumble. With a deep breath, she started the engine. “No! Kenya!” Jon called out hitting his hand against the window as she pulled off from in front of their home. 

Kenya had wound up driving to her studio and sleeping on the couch there. She woke up the next morning to about 50 missed phone calls from Jon and about 20 from his twin brother Josh. 

Josh Fatu: Sis, can u jus let me know you safe. Bro in here spazzing out cause u turned ur location off. 

To Josh Fatu: I’m okay 

Just as she sat up and stretched her phone started ringing. Kenya sighed as Jon’s contact stared back at her. She waited for it to stop ringing before unlocking her phone and blocking his number. She let out a deep sigh as she pushed herself off the couch, walked into the kitchen area and started a pot of coffee. 

She was in deep thought as she leaned against the counter, absentmindedly stroking the engagement ring she was still wearing. Kenya's fingers lingered on the diamond ring, memories flooding her mind. The day Jon proposed, the way his eyes lit up when she said yes, the plans they'd made for their future together. It all felt like a distant dream now. 

Its been about a month since she’s last talked to Jon. Even though he was blocked from her phone he had shown up to the studio multiple times to try to get her to talk to him, she just couldn’t she was embarrassed. She had bever had a guy moan out another girls name while she was with them. 

“Yo shawty, you good?” Kenya broke out of her daydream and look up from the soundboard. 

Brent well Christopher was staring back at her, holding the joint out to her to which she politely declined. 

“Yeah sorry, just thinking.” She said as she cleared her throat. “You ready.” 

He took anothe rhit of the joint before setting it aside. “Whenever you are.”  

Kenya took a deep breath and nodded before standing up and walking into the booth. She normally let other artist perform her lyrics but this one was personal.. She needed to be the one on the tract. 

Brent gave her a thumbs up and Kenya closed her eyes as the music begans to flow from the headphones, she took a deep breath before her voice filled the studio as she began to sing. 

🎶Go figure You were the trigger You brought me to an obstructed view When you knew the picture was bigger Who am I kiddin'? Knew from the beginnin' You'd ruin everything, you do it every time You are my enemy, you are no friend of mine, muhfucker, uh 🎵

BrentFaiyaz

liked by JustKenya, and 514,700 others

BrentFaiyaz: thank you @JustKenya for trusting me 🎼

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chrisbrownofficial: oh shit! we getting new music!

hermusicofficial: she's finally getting in the booth! Time to show the world your talent baby girl ❤️

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Authors Note: WHY DO I WRITE JON AS THIS PIECE OF SHIT OMG!! but here's my new story! (well one of them.) Tell me what y'all think! 😬

(edit, sorry.. this is the song Kenya "wrote")

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[sukunastoy]

Only Love Can Hurt Like This, Prologue (CEO! Sukuna x Fem! Reader, MDNI)

Next Part, here!

⭐This is a redo of my story, Shameful Attraction. I've rewritten it as I originally wanted so long ago. I was trying to write it to appease people and once I let go of that and just started to enjoy the story for itself, the flow became a lot better. For those who read it before, there are major changes you'll notice upon the next upload. For those who haven't read it at all before, I hope you enjoy. <3⭐

⬇️PLEASE READ BEFORE STARTING THE STORY! ⬇️

Modern age AU, no curses. Sukuna still has his tattoos, but his face ones are carefully hidden. This story is set in Japan, and I've done my best to impliment real life into it. For example, tattoos in Japan are still taboo, and people associate them with the yakuza, so its not normal to see everyday people have them. Though I know I won't have all the details of modern day life in Japan correct, I hope you still enjoy.

Pairings: CEO Sukuna x Fem Reader Content/Trigger Warnings: This story has a lot of abuse in it. Reader is in an abusive relationship with her fiance, Toji. There are several moments in the story that highlight this including, but not limited to, acts of violence and aggression towards reader, including name calling, shoving, punching, sexual assault, being manipulated, unwanted bondage and containment, food denial, being drugged etc. Reader is thin, not allowed to eat a lot per Toji's rules in regards to her weight. If she feels like she is gaining weight, she will make herself throw up after meals. Reader also struggles through depression though often hides it through masking, however there are ocassional thoughts of suicide when some scenarios are too extreme to cope with. She's scared to leave, assumes she could never get away, so just deals with it all as she doesn't know what else to do. Wordcount: 2k+

Prologue

Present Day ~ Friday, 10:23 PM

It was happening again. There was nothing you could do to stop it. No amount of shame or fear could keep you from hiding in the bathroom at 10:23 PM, your thumb hovering over the open message icon on your phone. You knew who it was, the person you desperately craved.

The sender's name was your best friend and coworker, Yuna.

You always talked to Yuna; sometimes you even stayed with her after work was over in the affluent area of Tokyo, Roppongi Hills. There were even the rare times you'd stay overnight after work because you felt like you couldn't see each other long enough. At least, it's who your fiancé thought you were talking to and seeing. If he ever found out otherwise, well, you weren't sure you even wanted to think about what might happen.

Toji would get annoyed at you for wanting to talk so much with one of your friends, and he always demanded to know what you two did or talked about all the time, which you offered very detailed lies in response to his questions. It's not like you came to these decisions lightly. You stuck it out faithfully for almost seven years before giving up and needing someone else to make you feel like a beautiful and worthy woman again. To know someone else could appreciate you and offer excitement in your life. To not hit or yell at for everything was a huge plus also. Even if it was only temporary. Even if they didn't care about you in the same way you cared for them, you still needed whatever you could get.

Listening carefully in the silence of the night, you could still hear Toji snoring from your tiny, shared bed down the hall, and finally, your shaking thumb pressed onto the screen, closing your eyes as you felt the little bzzt of the message opening.

Swallowing tightly before accepting the message visually, you peeked an eye open and felt your face flush with a tingling heat that traveled down into your core, making your thighs squeeze together tightly as you sat on the edge of the tub, breath hitching at the photo and caption that now had you uncontrollably mesmerized.

Clicking the lock button on the side of your phone you dropped it down onto the soft rug below, your shaking hands now covering your face before going through your hair and you let out a long quiet breath.

Your heart pounded with the image in your mind, and what usually happened after you got one of these messages, there was no stopping it, and you hoped it never would.

Finally calming your nerves at the moment, you picked your phone back up, only to have that heated chill drop to your stomach again as there was another message to open now. Biting your lip, you opened it and at this point, you could nearly hear your own elevated heartbeat.

-"Aren't you going to answer me, doll? I know you're still awake."-

You covered your mouth with your free hand to try and quiet the excited breaths escaping your mouth, scrolling up slowly to review the previous message.

-"I know it's late, and to be honest, I really don't care. I want you here, need you beneath me in my bed where you know you belong. Letting a real man fuck you. You know he can't make you feel like I can." Photo attached: It was of that enormous bulge desperately trying to push through dark sweatpants that were loosely tied at the hip, shirt lifted and held up by sharp canines to show off that ridiculously built body, and sinful black tattoos that hugged the skin.-

Damn him. A quiet whine churned in your throat as your thighs clenched together more tightly in that shameful desire. He was right though. Toji could never fuck you as good as Sukuna. It was so embarrassing. Embarrassing how easy it was for Sukuna to turn you completely limp in his arms, and how quickly you'd lose yourself beneath him. Embarrassing because of how loud and lewd your moans were. Embarrassing because of how much you wanted this arrogant playboy.

Knowing another message would come through if you didn't reply, you quickly responded with the only thing you could think of at the moment, being so flustered and already getting dumb over dick through a teasing photo. -"I still have that report I have to finish this weekend, I don't think you'd be too happy if I don't complete it by Monday, Sukuna."-

As soon as you sent the message, it was as if there was an answer already waiting, and your phone almost immediately vibrated in response. -"Just stay the whole weekend with me, I don't even care anymore at this point. You can finish that here after I'm finished with you. I've already transferred the train ticket vouchers to you. The last one leaves at 10:51 pm. I'll pick you up at the station when you arrive. Just don't keep me waiting, my pretty, little thing."-

Running a hand over your forehead that felt a bit damp from nervousness, you shoved your phone into your pocket and let out a quiet but heavy breath. Having an affair with your boss was undoubtedly making you the happiest you've felt in years, but still, at the same time, it made you so frightened and ashamed. Especially since it felt like you were getting more attached to him, though you knew Sukuna wasn't looking for a serious relationship of any kind. He had made that perfectly clear. Painfully clear. You weren't the only woman in his life that he entertained, and you knew you wouldn't be the last. You were just fortunate to have his attention, for now.

He certainly knew how to make you feel like the only woman in the world though, despite knowing you were just sharing him. At least he kept his wandering eyes and flirtatious comments under check when the two of you were spending time together. Meanwhile, Toji acted like the biggest flirt in the world with every woman he encountered, even with you at his side.

Toji could be so gentle and loving when he wanted to be, but it never lasted long, and it was only when he was rewarding you for properly behaving. There'd always be something to set him off or some woman nearby he couldn't keep his eyes off of. You were certain he had been sleeping with other women for years, the way he acted around some of them proved it. Despite your supsicions, you had stayed faithful and loyal. Even through the beatings and constant derogatory things he called you. You weren't sure if it was because you had morals, or because you were terrified of him.

So long as you were obedient like a trained dog, Toji wouldn't hurt you. Mentally or physically. Most of the time you were too frightened to fall out of line, knowing how easily he could knock you out, or break an arm; something he's done before in a fit of drunken rage. He definitely scared the shit out of you, and cheating or lying like this was enough to make you shake in fear for your safety.

But, Sukuna never asked you to officially stay for several days like this at his own home. Sure, you've taken work trips together, but even though you gave yourself to Sukuna in any way he wanted, most of those were strictly professional and work related. So, as terrified as you were of your fiancé finding out, you couldn't pass up this type of opportunity. Maybe Sukuna was getting more attached to you as well? 

"I have no desire for a relationship of any kind beyond this. Don't get any hopes or ideas, I simply enjoy what we have, and it wont ever change."

Doubtful.

Even knowing his attitude towards your relationship, it wasn't always easy to keep your mind free of hopeful thoughts, unfortunately. The way he'd hold you so close or kiss you so gently at times brought such confusion it hurt almost worse than any slap from Toji.

You carefully snuck out of the apartment, praying to god that Toji wouldn't hear you. You'd have to come up with some lie at some point, but for now, you just wanted to see the man you desperately longed for. The train station was only a couple of minutes away from your apartment, so it was a quick walk down the road. Approaching the kiosk to pick up your tickets, you held the voucher barcode on your phone underneath the scanner and it printed out a set of tickets for you to board the train. 

Knowing the ride would be a little time-consuming, roughly over an hour, you stared aimlessly out the window for most of the trip, your leg bouncing in anticipation. You tried not to think of all the shameful things you were going to let this beast of a man do to you through the rest of the night, and how you craved every bit of it. It was the only time you didn't have to think or worry, you could just let Sukuna use you as he wanted. 

Nearing the destination, you clicked on Yuna's name in your contacts and took a quick selfie, angling the camera so your pushed-up boobs were clearly visible as well. Before Sukuna, you could never feel confident enough to take such pictures. Even when Toji demanded some risqué photos, you couldn't feel comfortable doing so. Sending them to Sukuna was exciting, however. Being satisfied after a few images, you attached a message, -"I'm coming. ❤"-

-"Yeah, you'll be screaming that soon enough."- he replied nearly instantly.

God, you could hear his cocky chuckle through the text. -"Please, 'cause I seriously need it. This whole week was awful."- You type out, still feeling the throbbing, dull pain in your side where Toji jammed his fist into your ribs for talking back to him. -"Yeah? Well, glad I had you come over then. I'll make sure to fuck all of the stress out of you."-

He sent another photo and you nearly dropped your phone once it popped up on the screen as you weren't expecting to see his large hand tightly wrapped around his hardened cock. You let out a near silent yet audible whimper as your eyes fixated on it. A shudder traveled through your body as you recalled how amazing he could make you feel.

You were just grateful Sukuna asked you to come over tonight, and it not be mainly for work, considering you and Toji had another fight about his past financial problems that somehow became your main responsibility to fix. At the time of your engagement when you were young, dumb, and in love, you had agreed to put all of his bills in your name and his credit debt as soon as possible so he could catch a break and start rebuilding his finances and you'd be able to help with the payments then.

Of course, through some miscommunication, you were responsible for ALL the payments now, and you couldn't keep up. To make it worse, he kept taking out new loans for who knows what and it seriously terrified you. Loan sharks were nothing to mess with. They'd give you anything you want, but if you didn't pay it back, they weren't afraid to get rough for their money. No point in calling the cops either, cause the cops were scared of them half the time too.

Seeing the city lights get closer, you let out a deep breath of suspense, knowing within the next few moments or so you'd be getting fucked stupid in one of the very expensive, luxury penthouses of the seductively, dominant man you met only a few months ago.

You knew the moment you had literally run into him while rushing down the sidewalk, causing his hot morning coffee to spill onto you and all over his expensive suit that things were going to change in your life, even if just for a little while.

End Prologue

I hope you enjoyed! <3 I'm happy to actually be writing this story again. I truly LOVE comments so please leave some! They make me smile so much. ヾ(•ω•`)o

I'll do my absolute best to keep this story updated, unlike before. I promise!

Next part, here!

[letternotekisses]

ok but saucy thoughts aside im talkin bout talon assistant reader genuinely being cute and silly with her agents:

Moira more often than not lets you eat your lunch in her lab provided that none of it comes in contact with her projects. She was hyper focused - her perfectly manicured nails holding still a tawny brown ball of fur, adorned with a baby pink button nose that sniffled the air hesitantly. You’d practically squealed when she raised a needle to the poor thing, and she quirked a brow when you hurried over to clutch the animal to your chest.

Moira appeared unimpressed with you. Her angular chin upturned as she peered down at you, baby talking the rabbit she had planned to test on. You looked up at her with eyes big and watery enough to rival the little creatures, and she sighed dramatically. The geneticist had a feeling that wrangling the critter out of your arms wouldn’t be so easy now that you’d seen what plans she had for it.

So that is how Lucky came to be. Despite Moira’s cold disposition, she enjoyed your company, and would like you to continue body doubling with her whilst she worked. The only way not to send you fleeing from her lab in tears, clutching the rabbit to your chest, was to keep it around. It has its own little space laden with toys and plush surfaces - a rather spoiled little animal.

Moira allowed the rabbit to stay, under the one condition that she name it. She’ll never tell you why, but she named the little guy Lucky because not only was he ‘lucky’ to avoid her experiments that day - he also gives you more excuses to come into her lab - and she feels ever so lucky for it.

Sombra finds unique methods to get your attention. She lurks around the base almost as well as Gabe does, but she’s not necessarily doing it to be broody. She can get greedy with your attention, so she finds ways to lure you off base so that she can have you all to herself for a little bit.

Sombra often hacks into Akande’s email to send you on faux errand runs, just for little things like coffee where she can swoop in for some quality time. And don’t worry, she pays for the dates and ensures you’re back on base by the time your break is finished.

Sombra also leaves little gifts where she thinks you might find them. Although, they’re never really that little. You’re always taken aback by new, expensive top-range electronics laden in purple ribbon on your desk. You know who leaves them, because they’re backed up with the best firewalls around and the display has a tiny purple skull on it.

Sometimes she just straight deposits thousands into your account. As a treat. Sombra only rolls her eyes when you try to decline the amount, flustered and telling her that it’s ’way too much’ but she honestly couldn’t care less. She’s perfectly able to spoil you and that’s exactly what she’ll do.

Reaper likes to play off that he doesn’t enjoy your company (he’s coping) but he’s also always skulking wherever you’ve been. You’re a bit of a yapper, especially when it’s early mornings in the Talon communal area, so he likes to sit and listen to you. If you stagger whilst talking because you think he isn’t listening, he’ll give you a stare so hard that you swear you can feel it through his mask. So you keep talking and his shoulders sag with contentment once more. (He now knows every single type of coffee you like, and you should expect a mysterious package of literally all of them in the kitchen next week.)

He’s a grump, and sulked for an entire week when you once changed your perfume. Reaper even went to lengths to shadow-step into your room to throw the new one out and replace it with a fresh bottle of your old one. It wasn’t cheap, but as long as you keep using it, he’s happy to buy them for you.

He’s also happy to scare off any of the overconfident Talon grunts who think you’re easy pickings. In fact, I’d say he takes great pleasure in showing those idiots who the pretty secretary belongs to. (He’s been doing this behind your back because he’s too edgy and emo to approach you directly and would rather trail you in the corridors like some sort of creep, but he means well.)

Reaper gets a little jealous over your attention from time to time, but with help from his unorthodox teammates (and you) he learns to share.

Amelie is slower to approach, but she’s all the more meaningful when she does. She may not be able to feel, but she more than just tolerates your company. She finds herself inviting you over for bottles of wine more often, showing you her manor and her dear guard hounds who’ve come to be much too gentle under your affections. Yet, she can’t find it in herself to blame you.

You show her simplicity in a blank and cold world - and soon enough her manor grows less full of cobwebs and vines, instead beaming with sunlight and the tiny succulents you’d gifted her with. You won’t replace Gerard, but Amelie still lets you dust off the weathered picture frames as if you’d been married together in this old house for years.

You help manage her hair, winding long and silky strands between your fingers, brushing against the elegant slope of her back. She welcomes your touch, despite the warm and cold contrast of your skin on hers.

Amelie craves the casual and domestic intimacy you provide her. She introduces you to self defence and gun wielding so you can take care of yourself without her, and you introduce her to reality tv and an absurd collection of coffee mugs. She would not take it any other way.

Sigma’s musings start small when he hears you humming a certain tune one day. It’s catchy, likely a pop song you’d heard on the radio whilst on your way to work, or maybe it was a song you’d been blasting in your bedroom the night before? He’d found himself picking up on it, unable to shake it until he’s humming it himself.

Eventually when you sit down with him for tea, he questions you about it, yet when you tell him the name of the song and he listens to it, he doesn’t necessarily feel the same pull.

The next week, when you’re passing by his lab in a hurry, heels clacking against the glossy wooden floor and papers flying in a trail behind you, he catches you humming another song. Another tune. He smiles softly to himself, picking up the documents you’d left behind.

Sigma realises then that the song wasn’t necessarily catchy enough to stick with him. He’d only picked them up because they reminded him of you.

Mauga is always excited to have you around. Sometimes he can be a bit much, but with two hearts he’s bound to have twice your energy. So that’s why he absolutely insists that you sit on his back whilst he does pushups. No matter what you weigh he’s not gonna break a sweat, so you might as-well relax on his back while he works out, instead of wasting precious quality time you could have together.

He’d suggested that you sit on other things too, but you’d smacked his bicep hard enough that the muscle rippled and he got the message to behave. You were still sore from the last time he said that.

Mauga also is a big cuddler, meaning, if you’re doing something he doesn’t deem as important, you’re being quite literally swept off your feet and dumped onto a soft surface like a wet kitten. Where he then hauls you onto his chest and squishes your face into his bicep, unfortunately for you, two hearts means he runs WARM. And you’re out like a light in less than 10. Smug bastard.

Big dude loves to show you off, too. Takes you back to some of his old haunts (pays for all of your drinks) and puts a song he knows you like on the jukebox. Sure, the night ends in a bar fight, a back-alley fuck and the worst take out you’ve had in your life, but would you have it any other way? Absolutely-fuckin-not.

And finally, the big boss of them all, Akande. Who’s satisfied with the knowledge that each of his subordinates treat you well and good, but knows he holds the ultimate claim. He holds the golden chain of your leash.

He treats you softly, like a well pampered pet all trussed up in the finest materials around. But it’s not always money with him. Sure, Akande has it, and he’s gonna flaunt it, maybe stuff a few bills in your panties when you least expect it but he also knows you’re not just a pretty face. Both he and his top agents have become adjusted to you in their lives, morale is high, people have improved.

You’re here to stay, and it’s only locked into place when he awakes one morning, your legs are tangled underneath satin sheets, and you’re drooling on his bare chest. He laughs - a deep rumble that shakes his chest and has you groaning at him to stop moving in a sweet, sleep addled mumble. You even give him a little kick under the covers.

Akande makes sure you’ll never want nor need again, and he’s sure that his team feel the same way about this odd, sweet assistant that stumbled into their lives.

[princesssarisa]

I think in Wicked (the musical at least – not sure about the novel), there's a bit of an uneasiness between the theme of "everyone is morally gray, no one is all bad or all good" and the fact that Elphaba is a freedom fighter against a fascist government that commits atrocities against a minority group.

Yes, the Wizard has some sympathetic qualities, Elphaba has some flaws and briefly turns to villainy toward the end, and Glinda is a mass of moral grayness under her perky pink facade. But for the most part it's clear who the villains are (the Wizard and Madame Morrible), Elphaba's stance against them is clearly heroic, and Glinda's choice to work for them is clearly a moral sell-out, with which she struggles and from which she eventually redeems herself. When the Animals' treatment parallels the treatment of Jews in Nazi Germany, you can't take a "both sides" view of the situation. But every now and then, the show seems to do just that – whether in the song "Wonderful" with the Wizard's talk of "moral ambiguities" (though of course in that song, he's trying to justify his actions and manipulate Elphaba into joining him), or Elphaba and Glinda's reconciliation in "For Good," where they paint themselves as having been equally at fault. And again, and again, I've heard people say "There are no real villains in Wicked: the whole point is that there are two sides to every story and neither side is all good or all bad." But if that's the intended message, does it honestly fit with a plot that involves fascism and racial persecution?

Another work of fiction that I think has some uneasiness between its themes is Disney's Beauty and the Beast. Namely between "the Beast as a suffering, misunderstood outcast" and "the Beast as a powerful bully who needs to be humbled and change." I think a lot of the controversy about that movie stems from the uneasiness between those two themes.

On the one hand, the Beast is a spoiled, selfish prince, who was cursed as punishment for shutting out a poor beggar woman, who has a terrifying temper, and who orders others around and throws tantrums when he doesn't get his own way. His beastly appearance and mannerisms can be seen as outward symbols of his bad behavior, which is based in toxic class privilege and masculinity. From this perspective, Gaston is his kindred spirit, which is emphasized by visual cues: e.g. their similar striking blue eyes, or Gaston's pelt-covered, horned chair in the tavern that looks like the Beast's silhouette. The difference between them is that the Beast finally realizes he was wrong and changes his ways, while Gaston only becomes more beastly. But on the other hand, the Beast is also an "other", who hides from the world, who struggles with basic social skills, who is full of insecurity and self-loathing, whom Belle bonds with because they're both misfits, whose bestial mannerisms and overpowering rages are at least partly because the spell is warping his mind (in other words, a magical mental illness), and whom a mob tries to murder just because he looks scary. Analogies have rightly been drawn between the Beast and victims of racism, homophobia, or other prejudice. From this viewpoint, Gaston is his opposite: the type of privileged boor who receives undeserved hero-worship just because he's handsome and charismatic, and who persecutes "others" like the Beast.

When people view it chiefly as a story about the taming of a powerful bully, you hear accusations of "Stockholm Syndrome" and of the dangerous fantasies of changing an abuser. Viewing the Beast as a misunderstood outcast, who finds acceptance in a fellow outcast and who overcomes his mental health struggles and bad coping mechanisms as a result, reduces those accusations. But if you view the Beast chiefly as a misunderstood outcast, then his character arc can feel disempowering: so much of it consists of learning to be more people-pleasing and self-effacing, not to mention re-learning "normal" human manners and behavior (as an autistic person, I know I've sometimes felt "He needs to mask to be loved"), and he becomes fully "normal" by becoming human again in the end.

Maybe there is no uneasiness between these different themes: maybe it's just complexity. Maybe my feelings on the subject shows that I'm autistic and struggle with things that aren't black-and-white. But in both of these works of fiction, I do sometimes feel as if the writers were trying to tell two different stories at once, which sometimes fit together, sometimes not.

Does anyone else feel that way about other works of fiction? Can you name any other stories with multiple themes that seem slightly opposed and uneasy together?

[adventuringblind]

Monsters in my Mind

Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Sometimes those thoughts won't leave, the ones you don't want... The ones that can be dangerous. All it takes is one person to help make them go away.

Warnings: Intrusive thoughts, referenced/implied self-harm, violent thoughts, impulsive behaviors, panic attacks, non-sexual dominance as a form of coping, dom/sub undertones

Notes: My thoughts are self stabby as of late. Pardon me as I write this for myself to keep my head and hands busy.

Side Note: Consider feeding my praise kink maybe...?

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

The head is a strange place. One's conscious is usually meant to help them make the right decisions and not engage in acts that could hurt them or others. Her head, however, is the opposite of that.

It's a dark twisted place where thoughts that aren't her own find refuge. They want to bathe her in the ecstasy of things that shouldn't feel good. daydreams about things that could repulse any typical human being.

Sometimes they are so strong and her bodies reactions are so out of control, that she has to find relief somewhere. The knife against her skin takes the edge off. Is it normal to moan at the sting and feel satisfied looking at her red stained thighs? She does, until the realization settles in and the guilt won't let her think.

The thoughts laugh at her for giving in so easily. They scrutinize the fact she gets off on the pain.

She walks around in fear of herself. The anxiety and exhaustion from constantly fighting herself are visible on her body. She's tired, and everyone knows it. It's why they don't come near her. Always to caught up in her own head to realize people are trying converse.

It's not like her job requires to much discussion with people. Puzzles keep her brain busy and Ferrari keeps her busy with all the strategy mishaps they throw at her. They throw her a problem, she solves it, plans for next time, and they fuck it up again by not using the solution.

Sometimes she thinks about throwing herself in front of an F1 car going full speed. That voice in her head screams at her anytime she's close to the live track.

Then there is Max. His voice sends the thoughts running and it makes her want to cling to him. She wants him to never stop talking about anything and everything.

Today had been particularly difficult with the of the driver switch coming at the end of the season. Carlos and Charles are the first drivers she's worked with and they all got along great. She doesn't want it to change. That means more unknowns.

The wind graces her cheeks and kisses her finger tips as she sits on the balcony of their apartment. Everything is to much right now and her thoughts won't quiet.

She was in Maranello when the news came out. Her head became so loud with the fear of change and worry for her friend. Enough to be sent home for the day - alone, and nothing to help her head aside from the burning desire to just end it all.

Max had made arraignments for her to spend some time with him in the Milton-Keynes. She was still alone for periods of time. Enough to have to settle herself somehow.

The color red makes something in her relax. Specifically when it's flowing out of her own body.

Now Max is with her and she's stuck in her own head. The never ending maze of twisted thoughts keeps her from moving. The fear of giving in has been looming over her head for longer then normal. It feels like she's losing something, always has been with this team, but change feels far worse then staying with them.

Max hasn't pushed her to do much aside from at least stay in his presence. Occasionally attempting to get her out of her own head with movies and games. He's even spent hours at a time just talking to her about anything and everything.

He opens the door to the balcony, but she doesn't look at him. Not until he holds his hand out for her to take. An action she does without hesitation. No thoughts are needed for this, just following Max's lead.

He leads her over to the couch and arranges them so she can sit tucked into his lap. A grounding hand runs up and down the lenght of her spine. "I've been doing some research about how we might be able to get your head to quiet down."

"I'll do anything, jus' want it to stop." Her voice sounds dry and cracked from how hard she's screamed and cried through the last few days.

"Do you trust me?"

"More then I trust anyone."

She finds herself slipping off the couch and onto her knees, in-between Max's legs with her head resting against his thigh. His touch doesn't leave her skin. "You're doing so good for me. Listen to my voice and focus on taking big breathes for me. Can you do that for me?"

She hums in response. The continual stroke of Max's fingers against her face and sound of his voice already helping immensely.

"That's it, just breathe for me. I've got you; you don't have to fight the thoughts alone. I'm right here with you, keeping them away, never leaving your side." Max grabs one of her hands with his free one. her fingers lay between his. Her favorite puzzle with how easy the pieces fit together.

"You're here with me; I've got you. Those scary thoughts aren't your own. The are unwanted and uninvited, but most importantly, they don't define you. You are brave, loved, beautiful without gaping wounds. You're not crazy or psychotic. You are yourself, with your highs and your lows."

Her body has never felt like this. Her entire being wants to give itself over to Max. His breathes guiding her own, his gentle yet firm hold on her keeping her where he wants.

She lets herself fall under his spell. If Max can take the control away from her, make her complaint and relaxed like this, then he can have her thoughts too.

"That's it, such a good girl, let me think for you. I won't leave you to fight or flounder on your own."

She follows Max's directions, lets him guide her in this place of trust and letting go of things. He's turning her brain off and letting her float without any kind of worries except what Max is telling her to do.

Until all she can think of is him. The calm the comes with his presence and the way his voice falls over her like a soft blanket. Max is all she knows, occupying every crevice of her mind and leaving no room for anything else to creep in.

"How're you feeling, geliefd?" There is a lightness to his tone that makes her swoon.

She hums against his leg. "Warm, fuzzy, head empty."

"Then you stay here as long as you need, okay? I'll keep you safe."

And she does.

She falls into the warm embrace of Max's words. She lets him protect her and keep the dark ugly thoughts away.

With Max, her head is quiet. The voices can't come though. When they do, he's there to fight them back.

[marciabrady]

Despite poor commentaries throughout the years that seem to be based on prior critiques rather than the actual substance of the original 1937 Princess, Snow White is a very admirable character and has a myriad of positive qualities that make for a great role model. Apart from coping with losing both of her parents at a very young age and being, not only abused by her only parental figure left but also, forced into slavery- by someone who practices magic, no less, someone she had no chance against- Snow White also has a business intelligence. She never, ever expects the dwarfs to take her in out of the goodness of their hearts and just naively depend on the kindness of strangers, nor does she wait for her Prince to save her while she’s stranded in the middle of the woods without food and shelter. 

Actively seeking out a place of refuge, she finds the empty cottage and quickly decides to work for her stay. She identifies a gap she can fill, and applies the skills of cooking and cleaning she’s mastered- not because they’re traditionally feminine activities and this movie is trying to turn back feminism, but because it’s the only trade she knew as a result of being forced into servitude from childhood by another woman- to an environment that’s in dire need of these abilities. With this, she barters an exchange for room and board and convinces a roomful of seven men, who start off not liking her and ascribing their own misogynistic views onto her, in mere minutes to accept her as their equal, as someone who they’re not simply taking pity on and allowing to stay with them, but as a contributing member who earns her keep just as the rest of the house does and is just as worthy of respect. What’s more, Snow White manages to accomplish all this and improve the quality of her life drastically in exchange for the same services she would have been doing anyway if she never left Queen Grimhilde’s castle.

So, in conclusion: by escaping her abusive household and conquering her fear in the forest, Snow White picks herself back up on her feet- after she’s nearly the victim of a homicide- and goes out into the world. She creates a new life for herself by finding a home and shelter, and quantifying her marketable skills to gain effective employment. She never throws around her status as a Princess nor does she expect a pity handout from others. She literally crafts a position for herself that makes her just as worthy of inhabiting the cottage as the Dwarfs by merit of her own hard work and skill- not her beauty, or her privilege, or her birth right as a Princess- and gains their respect, while still being comfortable asserting herself when they try to test her or disregard her authority as their equal. Through her insurmountable ability to rise above her circumstances, her sheer survival skills, and the fact that she literally creates a job for herself to sustain her livelihood, Snow White is a modern woman.

[literalite]

mistki's the land is inhospitable and so are we (2023)!! as edits featuring mine and some of my friends ocs 😁 had a lot of fun with this project... rough explainer of how/why each song corresponds to each character/s under the cut because i love symbolism and talking! sorry it is long

bug like an angel - sapphire

without spoiling too much of her story and arc... sapphire's life is not easy. she's hurt by people she cares for and who care for her, although inadvertently, and in turn hurts people who she cares for and who cared for her, also not by her own volition. it's kind of a terrible truth that you will harm and be harmed by the people you love, even when you and they truly don't want to. it's up to you how much you're willing to take and deal. you can't keep every promise you make and you can't right every wrong. but you have to keep trying anyway. that's sapphire's strength, and the core of her goodness and why i personally consider her one of my favourite ocs. i chose to depict bug like an angel in mitski's more positive interpretation here and in that light i think it works best for saph

buffalo replaced - heiya

well first and foremost the vibes of the song fits heiya perfectly fhgjk but also lyricism and tone... yep. quick breakdown of heiya's background since i doubt i'll ever be able to do it properly she's an interesting character for me because she like a lot of my other characters has lost. everything. she had a wife and a child and they were both killed and she had to leave her home again and again and unlike how some of my others would have taken this she has never flagged in her unwavering dedication to preserving hope. for herself for her people for the future etc etc. which is a very fucking difficult thing to do! the world changes faster than you can keep up with it sometimes but for heiya she will not let herself tire and be swept away in it all. people rely on her. she's a guiding star as much as she is a woman. she's a lover and a fighter and thats what buffalo replaced means to me! so

heaven - vinny and caleb

i feel like of all my oc couples so far they have like. the sweetest most kind of simply mutually trusting dare i say straight forward love. they just love each other so much and thats all. the world could end around them when theyre together and it'd be okay truly. also yeah vinny is ostensibly in heaven now bye angel i feel like this one was pretty self explanatory. me and who WHEN

i don't like my mind - sunny

he just like me fr (said in denji voice) anyways wow ha. unstoppable unending guilt due to past actions that haunt your every waking moment? throwing yourself into any and all distraction just to take your mind off it, filling your time with other shit so that past sin doesnt for once echo in your awful and hollow brain? this song is perfect for sunny honestly just that sentiment also the "please don't take this job from me".... sometimes the coping is worse. you can be proud of something because you can do it better than anyone else even if that thing is terrible

the deal - wolfgang munch by @gunthermunch

Wolfgang Amadeus Munch. umm this will make more sense later on but it still kind of makes sense now i think. he doesn't want to be himself he keeps . leaving and moving and running away from his own memories his own self in reaction to others. if he could pawn it all off he would. if he could be better in an instant without having to feel every agonising second of change he would! but thats not how the world works. or is it. read munch by gunthermunch thats an order

when memories snow - lilian

i feel the older you get the more your past kind of swells up and trails behind you... at least for lilian that is shes very linked to the different versions of the girl/young woman she used to be. for her its a double edged blade, a lot of her own strength is drawn from who she was and what happened to her throughout her life. they haunt her but she's haunting it back in her own way

my love mine all mine - saige, bellona, ari

stares you down okay so usage of this song very much almost verges into spoiler territory but uhm. uhm. starts twitching basically the whole dynamic here is . sometimes when you love you will sacrifice. and while that is usually a good thing sometimes it is not but sometimes it still is. sometimes you pay your dues for love and sometimes someone else has to pay for your love as well. and whether that is worth it to them remains to be seen. but it's all about love still. whether that's a worthy cause is up to you i suppose

the frost - yoshiki and hikaru from hikaru ga shida natsu

fun fact (or not so fun fact since i had it listed as such) this slot was originally meant to be taken up by a gojo/geto edit and while it still works for them frighteningly well i swerved to do another black and white haired doomed gay pairing gfhjkl; i really recommend yall to read hikaru ga shinda natsu/the summer that hikaru died because honestly it speaks for itself! it's SO good i love it so bad

star - ari and luca by @anjitrait

wow these two did not deserve the horrors the narrative (me) slammed down onto their heads. they're kind of the most married of all time to me but like of course under pressure even the strongest most loving of bonds will warp. they've been together for roughly a decade and a half now. they know and love each other as totally as you could possibly imagine. despite it all i am yours, no matter. are we picking up what i'm putting down chat

i'm your man - nayef and sióar by @lucidicer

after the album dropped like at least 3 people swung into my dms with a ?this you?? about this song which. i mean the fucking dogs that start barking halfway through the song. are you kidding me. but anyways sioyef and devotion. sioyef and putting yourself in your lover's hands and looking to them like they are a god. this is super self explanatory. you know

i love me after you - redacted and ophelia

HM.... all i'll say here is that sometimes the homoerotic tension filled high school friendship where both parties have something very wrong with them but in totally different directions can be. scarring. bad. sometimes love just isn't enough when you don't know what you're meant to do with it and when you've lived in survival mode all your life. but that once the dust clears you can scrape yourself off the ground get up keep going and that isn't gonna be the end for you there. or for love, even. sometimes shit just ain't meant to be and thats ok

[endlessdreamworld]

For the request, can I please have yandere Topaz (hsr) alphabet? Can be gn or female reader.

Affection: Topaz shows affection by giving you whatever you need, whether you need to be fixed or fed. She would match her darling's intensity. Whatever darling wants, darling gets.

Blood: She's willing to get her hands quite dirty, but violence will never be her first or second choice.

Cruelty: Topaz would abduct a foolishly stubborn darling and treat them like a pet. She'd give her darling boundless patience. Big life changes require time to adjust to, after all.

Darling: No, she's got some pretty strong morals to the point that she often gets herself in trouble with how much she holds back.

Exposed: She bares her entire heart to her darling. That being said, she doesn't really have gaps or weaknesses. She's too self assured to feel vulnerable around anyone, darling included.

Fight: Topaz counts on her darling fighting back, and wouldn't fault them for doing so. When her darling lashes out, she'd put them into a hold until the fight is out of them. She'd forgo bindings and restraints unless her darling was a risk to themselves. When injured, she'd patch herself up after the situation is resolved.

Game: She doesn't see it as a game, and more of a differing opinions kind of situation. That being said, she's not too fond of seeing her darling trying to escape and takes it as a sign of personal underperformance.

Hell: Topaz, outside of holding you against your will, is relatively laid back. The most hellish part of the arrangement would be before you reach acceptance. Her relatively gentle and hands off nature would make it seem like it'd be easy to run away which is far from the case. This disconnect has the capacity of really fucking with her darling's head.

Ideals: A very happily ever after situation. Just the two of you, happy and fulfilled. It's actually very basic and wholesome, all things considered.

Jealousy: She doesn't have jealousy issues for the most part. She is a sore loser which could turn into a burning feeling of jealousy if she lost in something she considered her area of expertise. When feeling that way, she would cope by locking up her darling for a bit and throwing herself into her work for a bit to blow off steam.

Kisses: As mentioned in 'Affection' she would match her darling's energy. She's really good at putting the needs of other's first and helping them feel more at ease. If her darling wants to play, it's play time. If her darling doesn't want to talk, Topaz won't push them.

Love Letters: She'd approach her darling like a very persistent friend, slowly (but not maliciously) isolating them. Topaz would take care of everything, so things and people that become redundant would slowly be pushed out.

Mask: Yes, but well, actually no. Most people are aware of how reliable Topaz is, so if you reached out to others about her behavior, they would be confused about the issue. Yes Topaz is Topazing, what's the problem?

Naughty: Punishments are dangerously lax, for both parties. Just like a parent needs to steer their children, a yandere needs to steer their darling. An unstimulated, free range darling can feel neglected in a round about way. There needs to be more than just a locked door to invoke that juicy, juicy Stockholm syndrome.

Oppression: As mentioned above, too little.

Patience: As mentioned above, too much.

Quit: Capable =/= Willing. Topaz would need a reason to move on.

Regret: Topaz doesn't feel regret often, if ever. She's too focused on moving forward. She'd never let her darling go, unless they're going somewhere else together. Whether that's a change of location, or a shift (forward) in the status quo of the relationship.

Stigma: Her childhood shaped her into who she is. The Topaz of today is the most logical outcome of the circumstances of her upbringing.

Tears: She'd feel absolutely awful. Nothing makes her feel worse than the feeling of failing her special someone.

Unique: I'd consider her pretty unique by yandere standards since she operates so differently from the usual.

Vice: Her darling could really take advantage of the element of surprise and Topaz's lack of willingness to act violently against them.

Wit's End: Never ever ever.

Xoanon: The happiness and affection of her darling is her greatest ambition.

Yearn: She can pine pretty long. The only reason she'd snap is if there would be a shift backward/away from the status quo. Her darling needs to move away? Well we can't have that. Time to lock them away.

Zenith: She'd let her darling break her before she'd inflict any sort of violence upon them.

Thank you for the request! I hope you like my interpretation of Yan! Topaz.

[bumblebeehug]

Writer's Blues

Summary: A small dive into Lucy's mind after a less flattering book-review. Ao3 - FF.net

***

Lucy swallowed the lump of tears that had gathered in her throat. She liked herself, she really did, but sometimes she found herself wishing she’d never published her book. Today was one of those days – another review from a big newspaper had appeared in her mailbox, and there it was: “As a mage she’s perfectly delightful to look at. As a writer, she’s perfectly boring.”

It stung. In fact, it made her heart feel so heavy that she felt like she could throw up. She never cared about criticism when she worked as a reporter: any journalist knew that there would be push-back if an article pointed out a flaw too many in an establishment or corporate business. As an author, however? It wasn’t as easy to read the many ways the reviewer wished to give themselves a concussion, in hopes to forget what she’d written. After all, she had given a piece of her soul to her book. Countless hours had gone to research, including physical, adventure-like research, meaning she also spilled plenty of her actual blood in the making, and this was where it left her? She had sat down with both Levy and Freed to check her work for spelling mistakes, grammar mistakes, or anything that simply wouldn’t appeal to the public, and that was a humiliation on its own.

She realised soon in her life that she didn’t take rejection well. No one else knew, for it was her burden to carry, to hide. Who could possibly spend this many years on something, still never getting any better? To this day she erased sentences and paragraphs until the paper wore so thin it tore, and she still spent hours looking over the same passage, trying to find the right descriptor of a scene. Plenty of times she found herself wanting to rip her hair out, or gnaw on her nail beds until they would bleed – anything to soothe herself from the stress she was under.

For a long time, she never wanted to admit to the real reason she wrote. She hid it under childish reasons: “My mother thought I was talented when I was young” and “I just enjoy the process”. She didn’t actually enjoy the process, though, and she certainly didn’t believe that the words from a mother to her 7 year old daughter were the complete and honest truth. What was the truth, was that she craved confirmation. She needed to know that her rumour as “the brainy one” in Team Natsu carried some truth, because if it didn’t, who was she? What did she give to her team?

Natsu, Erza and Gray were fighters, always reliable in their strength to attack, as well as defend. Wendy was irreplaceable, and had been ever since she first joined the team: her magic was beyond useful, as it saved them all from injuries that would take months to recover from otherwise. Happy and Carla covered airborne attacks, swift and quick to react and bring a fellow fighter in the air. Lucy? Oh, she was helpful once or twice, decoding a puzzle that would malfunction either way, leaving the rest of her teammates to fight off the consequences. Not even her skills as a celestial mage felt like enough to assure her of her place. Back in her mind it haunted her that it didn’t have to be her. Any celestial wizard would do: she wasn’t unique in her way of viewing her spirits as friends and equal, nor was she the sole being who could learn how to wield these keys. Anyone could replace her, and the dynamic wouldn’t change.

The one thing she could cling to was her academics. She was smart, educated and had her own set of skills – this her teammates liked to tell her. It would be more convincing if she ever got to use these skills, but she couldn’t complain: the alternative would be to be completely useless in their eyes, and she would never be able to cope.

Lucy wiped the sole tear that had escaped her tear ducts before she carefully cut out the review and put it in between the pages of the only copy she still owned. With shaky hands she glanced over the other reviews she’d collected over the years. Some kind, some neutral. Very few were actually as blunt and harsh as this: yet Lucy could point them out as easily as she could her enemies in a crowd. They shone like bright flashlights in her eyes, hurting her physically every time she was reminded of them. They were etched into her retinas, haunting her each time she closed her eyes.

She looked up at her clock. In thirty minutes Natsu would come by with a new board game to try out. In the meantime, she had to hide all evidence of her crying, cheer up and forget about it for a while. He didn’t know: he was never allowed to know. He didn’t read the paper, so there was no risk that he would figure it out himself. Only if he one day decided to snoop in her bookshelf, would he come across these cutouts. Because for as long as he was around, she had vouched to hide her sorrows from him.

When he asks about the publication date for her new book, she’ll smile, a white lie coating her teeth, tell him it got postponed. When he wonders why she cries, she’ll bend the truth as she bends her gaze, telling him she’s thinking about her mother. When he uncovers the truth, she’ll laugh it off: it’s merely a writer’s humble blues.

[feuilletonette]

Bridgerton S3, they could never make me hate you.

I had been consuming a lot of contents albeit very much revolves around these two darlings, Penelope and Colin. I just couldn't get enough. I was simply never the same after Polin. Never.

It had been pressing weeks when I felt the shed of my old skin upon the compounding insinuations of loss affection toward men of haunting past. In which with all their might would do everything to sabotage the relationship, to run screaming and crying and throwing up to absolutely defy these insurmountable feelings, one could label within the word, love. Until they are utterly consumed by these thoughts and overwhelming need to express such affections where the only way to ever cope results to angry, passionate confessions of love.

I am wild to witness the stark difference of how we see Colin did none of those things because in my conclusion, he wasn't as emotionally constipated and the first three leads and it is such a refreshing medium to see without ever actually stripping him flat. That is what I want: a tender, loving, down bad softboy declaring that if his purpose was to love a woman as great as me, then he shall be a very fulfilled man, indeed.

The argument that he didn't say the 'I love you' enough debate was, in surface, quite understandable but if you start to analyse closely, after the proposal, almost every interactions he's had revolved around finding an opportunity to express his love and admiration to/for Penelope, especially in his conversation with his siblings.

He didn't need to scream his confession, he'd been attuned and embracing it (enthusiastically so) once realised, that is why he was never repulsed of having to speak of it the first place! In fact, he even actively communicates it in the most beautiful way possible.

He sought advice from Violet, followed Anthony straight away when he told him that he should tell her he loves her. Listen to Kate's marital advice. He's open, he's receiving help, he's trying to process his hurt and overcoming his triggers. He's learning to do better but it wasn't perfect. He made mistakes along the way but eventually led him to the path of acceptance.

He wanted to love her better, despite of and in spite of. Colin had always been introspective so when he had discovered the root of his actions, he gathered up the courage to be vulnerable and admit it to Penelope. That he was feeling envious because he never truly felt good enough. But this was recieve to be affirmed of his inherent worth. The thing I love about this couple is that they felt so human and that propelled them to move past such damaging beliefs of themselves to do better.

Don't even get me started with Penelope, I could make dissertations of how well she was written for all anyone could care. Miss girl is ambitious, I love how her mental glow-up was able to comply how well her physical glow-up was executed also. In the end, she needn't to choose between herself and the man she loves.

She can be both independent and cherished by a man, a man who constantly worked on himself because she mattered more than his ego. She may have wavered after various discouragement and she had tried, so so hard to give up her success but she couldn't. Whistledown is something she wouldn't compromise as it would mean betraying a part of herself. So I was glad that upon fighting for it, the people around her soon realised that this is something they could not deny and something they should fight with her not off of her. I'm glad that the show was able to depict that Penelope could have both. Being a succesful, career-driven woman should not cost you your love, or at least the right one. And it's a powerful message to have.

I also love this passage of weilding her power into more productive causes such as giving voice to the voicless. I hope we see more of it for the upcoming season.

Though, of course it's not perfect, with pacing issues and subplots with purpose I had hard time figuring. But if there's one thing I couldn't stress enough, season 3 has so much depth and I was very glad to dive upon the narrowest trenches of it.

It was so beautifully done and that is why I also stand that Polin have the strongest foundation so far as they navigate their biggest block and be the best versions of themselves together, and occasionally, with the help of one another.

P.S I am only talking about the show Polin, I hated the book, but I suppose this would be for another post.

[dreamerdrop]

your posts on julian bashir get me so much ... can you say more on how you see him as already behaving like someone with sexual trauma as a foundation for his worldview 👀👀👀

OKAY. HI. FAVOURITE QUESTION EVER YES.

Alright, just going to preface this with “a lot of this is projecting and speculative and very much headcanon-y” so grain of salt, please.

Julian Bashir reads to me as someone with sexual trauma. Specifically, he often shows a murky concept of consent, both his own and for others.

TL;DR: Julian Bashir shows a consistent pattern of brushing off violations to his self (physically, mentally, etc.) as embarassing or not a big deal, almost like he’s just accepted that these things are inevitable, and when combined with his hypersexual behaviour, his general refusal to acknlowedge trauma or his personal issues, and his own issues with consent when pursuing others, it all comes together VERY easily to paint the picture of a person who has experienced some form of sexual trauma and has just internalised this as both his own fault and not a big deal.

Earliest obvious example is his pursuit of Jadzia, including a fairly notorious moment in the early episode “Dax” where she outright says “no” and Julian decides she really means “try harder”. Obviously, the doylist explanation is that it was the 90’s and we’re meant to find this dogged persistence cute. (And, obviously, Jadzia is apparently into this herself, go figure.)

There’s also “If Wishes Were Horses”, in which Julian is… well, he’s effectively woken up to be assaulted by a fake Jadzia in his own quarters. He reacts, initially, anyway, in a pretty rational manner, trying to work out what the hell is going on and tries to get her to stop.

Of course, she doesn’t, and Julian eventually just sort of. Gives in. Subsequently, he assumes that this was some sort of joke, and he’s… honestly a lot less angry or upset by that than he really should be.

Again, I KNOW the doylist reasoning is that this was the 90’s and we’re supposed to find his obvious reluctance to make out with an attractive woman to be something funny because ~men are always eager~ and ~women can’t be predatory~ or something, right.

But then there’s all this other stuff to throw into the mix on top of it. Julian’s augmentation, for one, is treated as a traumatic violation of his bodily autonomy by his parents. (Comparable to conversion therapy, ABA abuse… etc. etc.) (I mean, it’s treated as traumatic inconsistently, mind you, but it’s still worth taking into account.)

Julian exhibits hypersexual behaviours (and I haaaaaaate that this gets written off as just ~young men are always just eager for sex~ in the show itself, because like, Julian is, imo, clearly *much more* preoccupied with sex than most people ever are, and I say this as someone with an unhealthy preoccupation on sex MYSELF) as well as a repeated longing for relationships as some kind of balm to cope with his issues. (Sarina is a particularly painful example where his issues end up harming someone else, but his relationship with Ezri absolutely SCREAMS “I’m stressed and miserable and think nothing good will ever happen again and I need something to make me feel like I’m normal”.)

We also have several examples of Julian reacting to traumatic incidents like they’re… nowhere near as big a deal as they actually are. He has his body snatched in one early episode, and considers the whole thing to have been “humiliating” rather than, y’know, a horrifying violation of his bodily autonomy.

Anyway, there’s probably plenty of extra stuff I’m missing here, but my point is: Julian Bashir shows a consistent pattern of brushing off violations to his self as embarassing or not a big deal, almost like he’s just accepted that these things are inevitable, and when combined with his hypersexual behaviour, his general refusal to acknlowedge trauma or his personal issues, and his own issues with consent when pursuing others, it all comes together VERY easily to paint the picture of a person who has experienced some form of sexual trauma and has just internalised this as both his own fault and not a big deal.

… Ahem, I also have a fic on this topic if you want some whump.