#because you supported him with the risk it could be and didn't care!!!!

[legendof]

if I see "we can be friends despite political differences" from one more smug maga supporter or "can't we just move on" I'm gonna scream. No! We can't! The things him and his party have said are vile and dangerous and you thought it was fine to support him!!!! you thought it was fine!!!! how can we be friends and move on????

[navybrat817]

I'll Be Okay

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: When Bucky accidentally harms you, he questions whether or not he's worthy of you and your love.

Word Count: Over 3.7k

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, accidental injury (small cut), mention of blood, mention of past injuries (not reader's), slight canon divergence (aftermath of torture, PTSD), self-loathing, angst, insecurities, feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: This idea hit me and here we are! The quote is a partial lyric change from "I'll Be OK" by Nothing More. Thanks to @yenzys-lucky-charm and @starlightcrystalline for their help. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky had an established routine before he went to bed each night. Screen time stopped an hour before he went to sleep so his mind and body could start to wind down. He changed into his pajamas, washed his face, and brushed his teeth. He read for fifteen minutes, nothing too intense or emotional since heavy topics would make his mind start to race again. The last thing he did were deep breathing exercises, imagining relaxing scenes as he inhaled, exhaled, and released the tension in his body.

Relaxing into the mattress, he smiled to himself. It took him some time to get accustomed to it, but he was glad he gave it a chance since he was determined to make his bedroom a safe haven. It took time and effort, but it worked. The atmosphere was relaxing and soothing. The blackout curtains helped him embrace the darkness since it was darkness of his choice. He hadn’t slept on the floor in months. He felt a sense of peace.

“Night,” you yawned.

It was difficult to see you in the pitch-black room, but he smiled more when he heard your heartbeat. The perfume you wore earlier today still lingered on your skin. Your hand touched his and he felt that sense of peace all over again.

The two of you started dating almost a year ago, short enough that it still felt new but also long enough that he felt comfortable. He didn't feel the need to hide his thoughts or feelings from you and you understood when he had his bad days. You were so patient, so caring. You were everything he wanted and nothing he deserved.

You didn't start spending the night until you hit the six-month mark. It worried him the first night because even sex didn’t disrupt his routine, and he didn’t want that to bother you. Just like you supported him in everything else, you were more than happy to support his evening habits. You even took a page from his book and started cutting out your screen time early so it wouldn’t disturb him. You were thoughtful like that, and he considered himself a lucky guy to have someone like you.

Especially when it came to his nightmares.

You were gentle and calm whenever he woke up from a nightmare, never trying to wake him abruptly and risk causing further distress. Respecting boundaries was something you both cultivated, so you never forced or pushed him to talk about his experiences or what he dreamed about. When he did, you listened without judgement and didn't dismiss his concerns or fears. No matter what, you were quick to offer comfort and help him get back to sleep or stay awake with him.

For all his crimes, he somehow ended up with a wonderful and understanding partner.

“Night,” he whispered into the darkness, pressing a kiss to your temple.

It didn’t take you long to fall asleep, your breathing steady. Closing his eyes, he slid his hand under his pillow and instinctively closed his hand around the small knife handle. His eyes opened immediately, his next breath caught in his throat. Why did he have his knife there?

Sleeping with a knife had been a coping mechanism and he typically did so on missions, but he tried to let it go at home once you started sleeping over. Tightening his grip, he remembered he had it there the night before because you had to sleep at your apartment. He swore he moved it to the nightstand before you came over. Did he… Shit, did he mean to do that and forget about it?

As much as his memory improved, he still had moments of forgetfulness. A likely permanent side effect thanks to the years of torture. It was one of the reasons why he liked having a routine. It helped him cope as well as improved his memory thanks to the repeated steps. Making lists helped, too.

“I’m safe. She’s safe,” he whispered.

The debate of having weapons in the bedroom was a tough choice since it was meant to be a safe space. He wanted to have weapons nearby for protection, but also wanted them far away in case something triggered him. He convinced himself that one knife was okay. One knife wouldn't hurt him.

But after his last nightmare, he didn’t think it was a good idea to have a knife under the pillow.

It had been a rough night, one of the roughest he could recall in ages. Surrounded by his demons and sins, he felt utterly alone. It was better that way. No one else should ever hear the agony or see the twisted horrors in his head. It was for an audience of one. But, still, he fought. He tried.

And his hand moved.

Bucky had been on autopilot, wanting desperately to fully wake himself up. His body tried to protect him while his mind continued to cling to his neverending nightmare. He just needed to open his eyes and be free for one more day.

He had sat up with a gasp, this haze in his mind finally lifting. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes. I go by Bucky,” he panted to remind himself that he wasn’t dreaming. “I was born on March 17th, 1917. I’m in my bed, and I’m holding a knife.”

He had been holding a knife.

And he sliced through the sheet where you would’ve been laying.

He barely made it to the toilet before he wretched. He had nightmares of you being tortured, your screams driving him to the brink of insanity when he wanted so desperately to save you. There were nightmares, too, where outside forces made him inflict pain on you. He swore he’d never harm you. If you had been asleep beside him… It made him sick all over again.

Which was why he tried not to sleep with a knife in bed anymore.

Carefully slipping his hand out from under the pillow, he kept an ear out for you. He didn’t want to risk waking or jolting you. He just had to put the knife away so he could cuddle with you and get some much needed rest.

But some higher being or life itself enjoyed messing with Bucky Barnes.

You rolled from your back to your side the second his hand moved through the air. He was fast, should’ve been faster, but it didn’t stop the blade from slicing your skin before he could pull his hand back. He knew the second you woke up, a startled and pained cry escaping. No… no.

He dropped the knife on the nightstand with a shaky hand and turned on the light. The first thing he saw was your face scrunched in pain as you sat up in bed and examined your arm. The crimson drew his attention next because he knew your body better than he knew his own and there shouldn't be a cut there… or blood. There shouldn't be pain etched on your beautiful face.

For a split second, Bucky thought he was having a nightmare. He wanted it to be a nightmare, didn't want it to be real, but the cry he heard wasn't in his head. It wasn't a dream.

It was a living nightmare.

“What did I do?” His voice shook. Tears stung his eyes.

God, what did he do?

Your lips moved, but he felt like he was hearing the words underwater. “Bucky? Did you have a nightmare? Are you okay?”

You were asking if he was okay?

“Oh, my God.” he whispered in horror, his eyes wide. “I…” He cut you. He hurt you. Something he vowed to never do. “I’m sorry. Fuck. Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you tried to assure him, clutching your arm closer like you were trying not to get blood on the sheets. “It was an accident.”

“It’s not okay!” he said, trying not to raise his voice. Frightening you was the last thing he wanted to do. “Fuck, baby, I’m so sorry,” he said, carefully rounding the bed and making sure he kept himself in your line of sight. “I-I didn't mean to. I was trying to move it to the nightstand. I thought I put it back.”

“I know you didn’t mean to,” you assured him, showing him the small wound. “But I need your help.”

He tried not to panic, but his heart wouldn't stop racing and his next breath felt ragged. “I…”

How could you possibly want his help? He was no longer the Winter Soldier, yet he was still a weapon who destroyed everything he touched. He fooled himself into believing that you were the exception, but look what he did? Your beautiful skin might have a scar now because of him, a constant reminder that he brought nothing but pain and destruction.

“Bucky, please,” you whispered, slowly lifting your hand. You let it hover near his cheek, silently asking for permission, the way you always did after he had a bad dream. He allowed himself to lean in, selfishly accepting it and taking from you the way he always took from you. “Help me.”

He dared to look in your eyes with the hope of centering himself and prayed he wouldn't see fear or disgust. There was none, only trust and love when you looked back at him. It was enough to push the panic away. He could be upset later. Right now he had to take care of you and fix his mistake.

“Okay,” he breathed.

He took your arm with infinite tenderness to examine it and blinked away the mist in his eyes. The cut, thankfully, didn’t look jagged or deep. It was a clean cut. In fact, it looked superficial compared to the damage it could've done. It still had to hurt since a sharp blade sliced your skin and there was still blood.

A wounded sound left Bucky’s lips when his gaze flickered up and he spotted a tear slide down your cheek. As if he had any right to make a sound like that when he caused you pain. The angel that you were, you offered him a soft smile. Any other night your voice and smile would’ve soothed him, but he didn't deserve that tonight. He didn't deserve comfort. He was unworthy of it, unworthy of any of your kindness or care.

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches,” he said, his voice rough. He wasn't a doctor by any stretch of the imagination, but he certainly experienced enough of his own cuts and stitched up enough wounds to know. “Can I carry you to the bathroom?”

Logically, he knew you were capable of walking there on your own, but he wanted to hold you. Make himself useful. You must've sensed it since you nodded without hesitation. “Of course.”

Picking you up in his arms, he felt numb as he carried you. Why couldn’t he have accidentally cut himself instead? He experienced plenty of wounds, and had plenty of scars. What was one more?

He took a second to breathe in your scent before he set you on the edge of the tub, worried he might not smell it again if you decided to leave for the rest of the night. “I need to apply pressure to it,” he said, saying the steps out loud for both of you as he washed his hands and grabbed the first aid kit. “Once the bleeding stops, I can clean it.”

You nodded, keeping your arm elevated. “Okay,” you said, your gaze going to his shaking hands. “Deep breath, Bucky.”

Breathing in slowly and releasing it, he willed himself to stop shaking. He didn’t realize the metal arm could shake, but it made sense since it was an extension of himself. Avoiding your gaze as he pressed the gauze to your wound, his teeth snapped together when he heard the wince you tried not to let out. As if he didn’t hate himself enough for the damage he’d done, you were trying to be brave and strong for him.

Once the bleeding stopped, he turned the water on. The sight of the red on the gauze made his stomach turn since it was your blood. “Soap and water next.”

You offered him a small smile again while he cleaned it, but he couldn’t smile back. “The cut doesn't look bad at all. Barely a scratch,” you mused once he finished and grabbed the tweezers. “What are those for?”

“It was a small blade,” he said, swallowing hard. “I know it isn’t a deep cut, but I’m just making sure there isn’t anything in it. We don’t want it to get infected.” Both of you kept the bedroom clean and he also took great care of his knives, but that didn’t mean dust or something else didn’t seep its way in.

You nodded again, letting him do what he needed to before he applied petroleum jelly. “That helps with the healing, right?”

His heart turned over. You were keeping him talking and not allowing his mind to slip into a dark place. “That’s right. I know you’re not a big fan of the word ‘moist’, but, well, keeping it moist helps,” he said, putting the bandage on. You wrinkled your nose, something he usually found adorable. Seeing you do it now, he wanted to cry. “I think that should do it. Do you… need anything for the pain?”

“You did a great job,” you smiled gently, which only made his heart ache more. “I don't need anything, but thank you for asking.”

“You sure you aren't being stubborn?” he tried to tease.

Cuts and bruises, he could handle those. Things like aspirin didn't do anything for him anyway thanks to the serum. What about you? What if your arm ached?

You laughed a little. “If I do need something, you'll be the first to know.”

You looked past your arm into the tub. He looked, too, watching the last trace of blood go down the drain. Or maybe he imagined it. The last time he came back from a bad mission, you helped him wash his hair and wipe away the remaining blood and dirt. You made him feel clean again as every speck disappeared. And what had he given you in return?

What good was he?

“Are you okay?” he barely whispered. God, he wanted you to be okay.

“I am,” you answered without hesitation, turning his face toward you. “Seriously, Bucky. It’s just a scratch, and it was an accident.”

“It shouldn’t have happened in the first place,” he said, pulling away from your touch. He feared he’d taint you if you kept touching him. “And you shouldn’t have to put up with me.”

You inhaled so sharply he thought you’d choke on your breath. “I don’t put up with you. I love you.”

How could your love break his heart?

Emotions whirled inside him as he sank to the cold floor. He hugged his knees to his chest and stared off with vacant eyes. Faces of the people he harmed and killed over the years passed in his mind. Blaming him. Telling him he didn't deserve you.

He didn't, did he?

He didn’t see you move to the floor beside him, but he felt your presence. It was his job to comfort you, make you feel better. Instead he began to shut down. He didn’t want to. Why was he allowing himself to go under?

“Bucky?” you asked after a few minutes passed.

His good and his bad days, you always stayed beside him. But you had to be afraid of him now, right? He wouldn’t blame you if you were. He also wouldn’t blame you if you never trusted him again.

“One of the happiest days of my life was when you and I started dating. Luck was finally on my side,” he said, remembering the smile on your face when he asked you to go out with him. He was on cloud nine when you said yes. “And then you eventually started sleeping over and I thought my luck was continuing to turn around.” He laughed a watery laugh. “I was going to ask you to move in with me soon.”

You placed your hand over his, not wanting to interrupt, but wanting him to know that you were listening and taking in every word.

“But I lied to you. I said I’d never hurt you and I did,” he said, biting his lip to the point where he almost drew blood. “You were the one person I was supposed to protect and take care of and…” He whimpered, doing his damnedest not to sob. “I can’t even protect you from myself.”

He couldn't even blame a nightmare for what he did because it was all him.

“You do protect and take care of me. You do it every single day,” you said. If he could see himself through your eyes, he’d believe it. “You're my hero.”

He finally looked at you and he didn't stop you from holding his face in your hands. How could he be your hero when felt like a villain? “Take care of you? Look what I did to your arm.” Tonight was a small cut and an accident, truly, but would if one day he did something worse? He still feared the day something triggered him and he went after the ones he loved the most.

You barely gave your arm a glance, like it didn't bother you at all. “That wasn't done on purpose. I would never hold something like that over your head and you wouldn't do it to me if the roles were reversed.”

The lump in his throat made it hard to speak. “But I’m supposed to be faster.”

Bucky faced his share of punishments when he wasn't the perfect machine. He wasn't supposed to feel. Only follow orders. It was hard to accept some days that he was truly free, that he was allowed to make mistakes. Being with you reminded him that he wasn't a machine, but that he was a human being.

And human beings weren't perfect no matter how hard they tried to be.

“You’re still fast. Still strong,” you said, your voice steady and firm, urging him to believe you. “But, Bucky, at the end of the day, accidents happen and we can't always protect each other from pain. That’s just not possible.”

He wanted to argue that he should keep you safe from pain, but he knew in his heart that you were right. “So we help and comfort each other?” he asked.

“Exactly. And I promise you I’m okay.”

“You’re really okay?” he whispered.

“I’m really okay,” you whispered back.

His shoulders dropped and tears spilled over before he could stop them. You weren't going to let him shoulder the blame no matter how hard he tried. “If you want to leave…” He couldn’t finish his sentence, but he’d get it if you wanted to go back to your place instead.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said, giving him renewed strength and relief. “Especially since you were going to ask me to move in. What kind of partner would I be if I just left?”

“You’re the best,” he swore. The best person, partner, everything. “And I’m sorry.”

He had to say it once more and he wasn't sure how he’d make it up to you, but he’d find a way.

“There's nothing to be sorry for,” you whispered, brushing the softest of kisses against his lips as you wiped his tears away. “But if you really feel like you have to say it, then I forgive you.”

He couldn't believe some days how forgiving you were, how deep your love for him ran. “You still love me? Because I love you so much.”

“Always,” you promised.

Your answer allowed him to cry harder. In the safe space of his home with the woman he loved holding him and not running away, he didn't have to suppress his emotions. He could embrace it, the bad and the good, the ugly and the beautiful.

“Thank you,” he whispered once his crying slowed. Tears fell from your eyes, too. He tasted them when he kissed your cheeks. “It really was an accident.”

“I know,” you softly smiled. “How about we add checking the bed for knives and anything else to your bedtime routine?”

“That’s a good idea,” he said. It would be easy to add that to his nightly list. “I don’t…”

He looked toward the door, not wanting to say he couldn’t sleep in the bed tonight. At least not until he changed the sheets, even if there wasn’t a drop of blood on them. Even then he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to sleep at all.

“Maybe we can curl up on the floor together with some blankets and pillows?” you offered, letting him make the choice.

There you went again being the understanding and patient partner, willing to curl up on an uncomfortable floor to make him feel better. “I’d like that.”

“Are you going to be okay?” you asked before he pressed a kiss to your lips.

It was a question you asked after every nightmare, every bad day.

He considered his answer before he uttered, “I will be.”

The truth was, he believed he had wounds that would never fully heal no matter how hard he tried. Something would come along out of nowhere and tear them open. If he were a better man, he’d let you go so you could find someone not so damaged. Instead he chained you to his side and dragged you down with him. But he remembered something you once said to him.

“We can learn to forgive and be forgiven by learning to heal with our hearts wide open.”

He opened his heart to you, and you accepted his love and gave it back tenfold. You took as much of his pain away as you could and made his days brighter. He was still learning how to be forgiven, but you helped him get better every day.

And both of you were going to be okay.

Oh, he deserves a hug and more. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[diamondsunbursts-and-marblehalls]

The first real conversation Katniss has with Peeta is when he tells her that he wants to die as himself, that he doesn't want the games to change him into something he's not, and that he wants to keep his identity and prove he's more than just a piece in their games because that's the only thing he has left to care about.

The first time we see Lucy Gray she sings a song that basically says that nothing they could take from her was worth keeping. "Can't take my past. Can't take my history... You can't take my charm. You can't take my health."

The capitol has taken everything from them both, but at the same time, they could never take away who they are.

They are both likeable charismatic and funny, with the kindest hearts, and incredibly loyal to the people they care about.

At the same time, everything they do before the games, and during is calculated. Lucy Gray singing a love song and winning the hearts of the capitol. Peeta confesses he's in love with his district partner, therefore cementing her identity as desirable. Both of them know how to sway people with words, how to charm people, and how to manipulate crowds. Neither of them has any problem doing so to keep themselves, and the people they love safe.

Lucy Gray's song The Old Therebefore, about learning how to love and live her life to the fullest before death, a final and calculated stroke in a last-ditch effort to save herself from the arena. This evokes enough emotion in the watchers to get them to rise to their feet and plead for her life alongside Snow.

Snow, watching the 74th and preparing for the 75th Hunger Games sees Lucy Gray in Katniss. A young girl, from the 12th district. Unafraid at the reaping. Selling a false love story, manipulating a boy who loves her in order to get out and supporting the revolution with the mockingjay as her symbol.

He threatens her family to get her to sell that she and Peeta are in love, to prevent the revolution, because obviously, she's pretending. He's had experience with a girl just like her before. He has no doubt that she has the acting ability to sell this story because clearly, she manipulated the first Hunger Games in her favor, the same way Lucy Gray manipulated him.

Watching the interviews for the 75th Hunger Games he realizes-

Katniss is just an impulsive girl, in a Mockingjay dress she didn't know about, made by someone who supports the revolution.

Peeta is a boy who has the ability to move people with just his words. He made Katniss desirable, he was the one who sold the love story, and he was the one to make their romance seem real. Katniss only started the revolution because she would rather risk dying with him than live without him. A concept President Snow was completely unfamiliar with. And it is with all these realizations crashing around him Peeta drops the baby bomb. He knows the baby's not real, and so does Snow. But it evokes enough emotion in the watchers to get them to rise to their feet and plead for the lives of the tributes.

Is it Lucy Gray or Peeta?

By the time Snow realizes he's made a mistake, it's too late.

Peeta is still charming and manipulating the capitol. Katniss is in love.

He goes up against a kindhearted boy expecting to beat Sejanus again, only to find out that it's Lucy Gray he's fighting; knowing he will never be able to escape their ghosts.

-from a conversation i had with @grandtyphoonpoetry breaking down every character in the hunger games.

[the-other-art-blog]

Violet to Colin: "You're one of my most sensitive children."

The fandom: "How can she say that! Anthony, Benedict bla, bla bla..."

Colin is ONE of her most sensitive children. ONE, just ONE of them. And she's right.

ONE OF HER MOST SENSITIVE CHILDREN

He was the only one who indulged Violet and let her introduce him to debutantes in s1, while Anthony fucked his mistress and Ben went to orgies.

He was a complete gentleman with Marina. AND defended her when Anthony implied something about her.

And when he learned the truth, he confessed that he would have married her if she had told him the truth. 🥹

He danced with Pen after Cressida bullied her.

He wrote dozens of letters that his family of 8 could not care to respond to often. There are 8 of them!

He worried about Ben in s2 and supported him on his application to the Academy.

He learned the truth of Jack Featherington and instead of simply leaving, he did something about it. Not only did he help the Featherington family, but he saved other lords from being scammed.

He apologized to Will, explained why he acted rudely AND made amends to repair the damage by bringing men to Will's club.

He returned with gifts for everyone, but he seemed particularly thoughtful to his sisters and mother. A perfume for Hyacinth, music for Francesca, and a book for Eloise 🥹. Violet was so moved by his gift and here we have a lovely headcanon on the watch:

Then with Pen...

He runs after Pen, despite other men wanting to know about his adventures.

He acknowledges his mistake and immediately tries to apologize to Pen in the Four Seasons Ball.

The next day, he comes back with a heartfelt apology.

Then, he offers her help, despite the risk of scandal and embarrassment for him. He knows Pen has no one else.

He goes to see Pen at night to make sure she's ok. And when she asks him for a kiss, he does it so sweetly.

He is brave enough to leave the men who just want to know about his sexual life.

HE WAS BRAVE ENOUGH TO ASK, as soon as he put himself together and understood his feelings. He didn't play jealousy games like others, he went and put his heart on the table. He didn't even know about Pen's feelings and he risked it!

Some extracts from Colin's journals show that his family is always in his thoughts.

You can see why Violet, as the good mother that she is, can tell how sensitive he is.

Colin travels during the summer and comes back during the season to be with his family. It angers me that people think he's selfish for this when Benedict also abandons the family to fuck.

And yet, both Colin and Ben are sensitive. BOTH OF THEM, Francesca too. I wouldn't call Hyacinth or Gregory sensitive right now, and before s3, I wouldn't include Eloise either.

Anyway, I needed to get this out because I am so fucking tired of Kanthonies and Benophies making tantrums about this line.

I'm sure when s4 comes, we are going to see a moment between Violet and Ben where she acknowledges how amazing he is and everything he has done for the family. But not now, because this is COLIN'S SEASON.

(NOTE: If you are thinking of reblogging this post with the tag #Colin is the most sensitive, kindly fuck off. I made this post to fight the Kanthonies and Benophie that are attacking Colin, not to validate your own need to make Colin superior to other characters. HE IS ONE OF THE MOST SENSITIVE CHILDREN, ONE)

[lovemomhatepolice]

drew starkey nswf alphabet (part 2)

navigation taglist requests

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) There is no chance that it will touch you after alcohol. That is, when only you are after alcohol. Even though you are in a relationship and even though you trust each other implicitly, THERE IS NO SUCH OPTION. Even if you look at him with your pleading eyes, even dripping, no. Well, unless you are both slightly tipsy and then you land in each other's arms, even more willingly than usual (which is all too strange)

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Heck, you guys are even fighting over it. There's no way you're going to get around it without plowing both ways. Drew loves, LOVES to lie between your thighs - oh and you love how he is there, because your man is very talented. But you also take his breath away as you climb into his lap and caress him with your mouth. Let's hope it never ends, right?

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) Let's be honest - Drew is a man of a million talents. You want him to fuck you hard, with your face pressed into a pillow, begging for it to stop, even though you don't really want it to - he will. If you're in a romantic mood and want to seal it with sex, he'll be sensual and calm. Whatever you desire

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) If you do not have the opportunity to have sex longer, quickies also are ok. But as I mentioned, Drew doesn't like to skip the “elements” of your intercourse, so quickies are not to his liking. But sometimes you both want it, and what can you do?

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) This man is turning 31!!! (Funnily enough - he turns it tomorrow) We all seem to know very well how well he takes care of his sister-in-law. So it's no wonder he doesn't mind if you don't use protection or are not on the pill. Oh, he would love to have children with you, even if you are quite a bit younger. If you were ready, he could fuck you all night long just to put that baby inside you

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) It depends on how aroused he is. Usually you can easily do two-three rounds if you are not tired. Drew doesn't like to finish after one round, who would he be if he didn't fondle his woman to her limits?

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) He has. Not a lot, but I think she keeps a vibrator at her house to sometimes support her actions and improve your sex. He's not some big fan, but he likes to experiment

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) He doesn't do it all that often - in fact, mostly when you're heavily aroused against him, and he (due to the fact that he's quite elderly) takes a little advantage of it. He prolongs with doing you good with his mouth, moves slowly inside you, oh, but how he returns the favor afterwards

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Oh, he is loud! Drew doesn't suppress his moans, loud breaths or saying how wonderful you are to him, how beautiful your body is and how much he loves you. He is sonorous and I think that is his advantage. Imagine that damn sexy voice of his worshiping you...

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) Maybe it's because he's an actor - and such a perversion came out of his work, or maybe he just saw such a thing once in a porn. Drew had the thought, and more than once, of having sex with you as one of his film characters. I don't know, he wanted to get into Rafe's or Trevor's shoes and fuck you like they could (meaning he could)

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) Drew has a lot to show off. He's all big, so it's also no surprise that his boxers are constantly bulging. But I guess that doesn't bother anyone, right? Especially in your bed, as you finally feel as full as you should

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) There are times when he can behave himself and tries not to pay so much attention to how sexy his girlfriend is, but this is rare. Even at the family home, he tries to take you aside, at least for a moment to go to the restroom to have a hot kissing session, and then go back to the family as if nothing ever happened. Oh, he can't take his hands off you and it takes so little for him to be at your every beck and call

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) You talk to each other for a long time before you fall asleep, but for Drew, first of all, it is important that you fall asleep first, only then will he feel properly to fall asleep - with the knowledge that his whole world is safe in his arms

A/N: part one if anyone missed it!! i will be very pleased if you leave something behind - orders are open, and I am very close to 600 followers! if you just like my work - take a look at the masterlist, give a heart, pass, and maybe even follow! it really means a lot to me and helps me grow by reaching more people :) please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

[norrisjpg]

cool about it

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summary: in which, what lando thinks was a bad race and a bad weekend, couldn't be more different in the eyes of his favourite person.

content: the fluffiest fluff ever, negative thoughts, self-doubt, crying, insecure!lando, poor mental health, mclaren slander, cuddling, shared showers (non-sexual), lando 'heart-eyes' norris!

pairing: lando norris x fem!oc

rora's thoughts: i am actually distraught after the saudi arabian grand prix weekend because what do you mean lando was crying in the car after qualifying? what do you mean he thinks that he's the problem? i can't keep seeing mclaren fuck him over because i am going to crash out harder than max when esteban took him out that one time. and to clarify, i am not an oscar fan - yes he's unproblematic, and i used to like him - but after hungary, monza and australia, i cannot bring myself to support a driver who's so willing to fuck up his teammate's race with no care for the result, especially when mclaren claim to be such a well-organised team with great relationships within it.

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SHE KNEW HE WASN'T going to be happy.

the way he looked at oscar with subtle resentment as he patted him on the back, the way his smile didn't quite reach his eyes in his sky sports interview, the way his shoulders slumped when he was asked what happened in the fifty laps of jeddah - they were all tell-tale signs, easily picked up his best friend.

lando breathed a quiet sigh of relief when he stepped into the mclaren motorhome, the team debrief having drained him. he wasn't jealous, he wasn't angry, he was just longing.

longing. longing for self-validation, longing to be appreciated by the team, longing not emotionally manipulated when he was at risk of death from crashing. it took his mind back to hungary last season, will's words that still frequently echoed around his head, and how sick he'd felt when those sentences crackled into his ears.

"the way to win a championship is not on your own," will had told him. "you're going to need the team, you're going to need oscar."

he knew he was spiralling, thoughts swirling into one big pathetic mess. the tears were creeping up on him, like a slow and agonising death - he couldn't cry, he did well right?

the world was static around him, all the noise and bustle of saudi arabia blending into a mushy blur as his breathing picked up a little. his lower lip was squat between his teeth in a desperate attempt to stop it from trembling and the reality of the situation sinking in.

they just seemed to look past the previous years lando had spent with the team, the four gruelling years of finishing out of the points, watching teammates come and go, not being the number one driver, lando was there through it all, loyal to the papaya team when they directed their energy into other parties, just as was happening now - the only exception being when it was mathematically impossible for oscar to win the twenty-four drivers' championship.

"lando?" a soft voice called, after a knock on the door the driver had failed to notice. "please, let me in."

he tried to hum, but the words caught in his throat, dying along the redness of his neck. so instead, he stood up a little too quickly, mind reeling from the change in altitude and the thoughts torpedoing through it - and he opened the door.

lily stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his torso and squeezing him tight, while kicking the door shut behind her. he was sweaty, dripping with the liquid that he believed should have been champagne - instead replaced with fatigue and frustration.

"i'm sorry."

could he sound any more pathetic? he was a grown man for god's sake, practically sobbing into lily's shoulder as his hands rested on her lower back. this wasn't the mentality of a world championship - the critics had said - he needed to have a 'fuck you' attitude - as will buxton had claimed in a recent podcast - lando was never going to be world champion - that's what social media had told him.

"don't be," she said, voice laced with sorrowful affection. "you have nothing you could possibly be sorry for, you drove incredibly today, lan."

"no i didn't, i didn't get a podium, and i've lost the championship lead," lando began, sighing into her skin. "and i'm so fucking tired of the team telling me to wait it out, when their letting oscar win and overtake me and all this stupid fucking papaya rules—"

"—lando." lily said firmly. "you're spiralling, take a breath."

"i want to go home." he murmured, a singular tear dropping from his eye and onto her shoulder.

"i know, but our flight isn't until tomorrow," she told him quietly, placing a hand on the back of his neck. "is the hotel okay?"

a broken hum left his lips, and she cupped his jaw, lifting his head from the crook of her neck and making him look at him.

"i hate seeing you like this, you know?" the model whispered. "you are so incredible, and it kills me that you can't see yourself in the same way i do."

lando just sighed, breath crackling in his throat as he stared down at his lifeline, holding him so affectionately and telling him everything he needed to hear.

"i love you so much," a small smile broke onto his face as more tears dropped from his eyes, to which she responded to by wiping them away with her thumb.

"i love you too, lan." she replied, nodding her head as she internally relaxed upon seeing the crease at the corner of his eyes matching the display of genuine joy on his lips.

• • • •

THE DRIVE BACK was quiet, filled with the hum of the engine and the rolling of tyres on tarmac. the windows were sealed up, air-conditioning on full blast — in an attempt to gradually bring lando's body temperature back to a normal after the ice bath he'd had around thirty minutes ago.

his head rested lazily on her shoulder, lulling a little as they encountered speedbumps in the black suv — driven by the chauffer mclaren had hired for the british driver.

lando's curls were damp and a few were sticking to his forehead, his eyes were half-lidded and tired, and he still smelt of burnt rubber and sweat, coated in the aroma from the time he'd spent in his black fireproofs. he felt pliant, out of control in the softest way possible, gentle and affectionate and sleepy.

she'd swiped the key card across the pad on the door, a quiet, positive-sounding beep coming from the device. before he knew it, he was inside the cool room, eyes almost shutting as the perfect temperature of the area enveloped him.

"shower?" lily tilted her head, walking toward the bathroom and flicking the light on.

"too tired." lando groaned, stumbling toward the bed.

"you smell like barbequed human, shower."

he sighed, padding over to the en-suite slowly, steps heavy and long.

"shower with me?" the words slipped from his mouth with no afterthought, too tired and achy to realise what he'd just asked.

and for the first time, her words faltered, snagged in her throat as the weight of his words settled in her chest. so, instead of verbally replying, she simply grabbed his swim shorts from her suitcase and handed them to the man, gesturing for him to go and get changed in the bathroom.

a subtle smile graced his expression, and he walked into the bathroom, closing the door and stripping off at his own pace.

lily changed into the bikini she'd accidentally left in her suitcase from their bahrain trip the previous week — quickly wiping her makeup off with a wipe and taking down her hair from the half-up-half-down style she'd previously donned.

"lan, can i come in?" the girl called through the door softly.

"yeah," he replied, stepping into the shower, basking under the hot water that poured over his skin.

she opened the door, walked in, and left it open, hoping the steam would drain out of the bathroom once they'd finished together.

after picking up the washbag from the countertop, lily slid the glass shower screen across and joined him, placing the bag down once again and letting the water wash through her hair and over her body.

"i love you," lando sighed, puffing his lips out a little as he gazed down at her. "so, so much."

"i love you too," the model smiled, the corner of her eyes creasing as she looked up at him. "more than you know."

it was intimate, her hands were all over him in the most wholesome way possible. her slender fingers massaged the hair food into his scalp, paying attention to the curls poking out at the nape of his neck, taming them with her skilled digits. her palms flatly rubbed circular motions over his shoulder blades and spine, the smell of vanilla filling the shower along with the steam around them.

she'd even gotten lando his usual sleepwear, an old pair of black quadrant shorts that had now been discontinued, and a clean pair of boxers, of course.

lily had gotten ready for bed in the bathroom, dressed in her black silk pyjama set, skin a little red from the products she'd scrubbed into her pores.

lando was sat on the bed, zoned out and looking sleepy. she walked over to him, standing directly between his legs, causing him to look up at her. their height difference meant that his chin rested directly on her sternum, just above her boobs, when he made eye contact with her.

the girl had started affectionately rearranging his unruly curls, tucking in soft strands of hair here and there, pulling some others more outward from his scalp.

meanwhile, he was blatantly staring at her like a lost puppy — pupils dilated, eyebrows slightly arched, lower lip caught between his teeth. he was the definition of heart-eyes, a man who only had eyes for one woman and one woman only.

his arms wrapped snugly around her waist, keeping her against him as she fiddled with his mullet — which had been her idea in the first place, claiming it was a birthday treat for her last june. lando admired the way her hair was back in a tight, low bun, not tight enough to be described as sleek though, as there were a few stray strands — or 'duck strands' as she liked to call them — at the sides of her face and by her ears. the way her skin looked a little pinker than usual because of her meticulous skincare routine, the way her skin smelt like shea butter and papaya fruit — which was the scent of the body lotion she was currently using.

it was when they were in bed together around ten minutes later, lights off, room lit by the moonlight, that he knew.

he knew because of how relaxed he felt in her grasp. he knew because of how her arms felt like home. he knew because of how soft her lips felt against his temple when she mumbled goodnight.

lando knew he was going to be okay.

════════════════════════

i do not give permission for my works to be re-written, re-published, or published on any other platform.

© norrisjpg 2025

[wnderkoo]

🏎️ back to you | JKK

summary: in which a rainy day on track makes jungkook realise that there was someone else out there that cared about him

pairing: f1 driver!jungkook x reader

genre: fluff, mayhaps some angst??

author's note: hope you guys enjoy!! first post of 2025 ;) another a/n I COMPLETELY MESSED UP POSTING THIS???!! wrong title and forgot to add tags i might just retire atp

It only takes a split second for everything to change.

One moment you can be speeding down a straight at two hundred miles an hour, on track to set the fastest time of the grid, and the next you can be spinning out and crashing into the barriers.

Rainy days are always the worst for F1 drivers, when the roads are slick after a downpour and the tyres lose traction. Completely not ideal conditions for qualifying.

Jungkook had been struggling with his tyres all weekend, with issues arising during all the practice sessions. He had still managed to place in the top three each time, but not with many complaints to his race engineer over the radio.

The rain had given no warning before it started pouring down on the track, raindrops sliding across Jungkook's visor as he tried to manoeuvre through the new conditions.

It was bad enough that he was starting to slide on track, but nothing could have prepared him for the car impeding him up ahead.

It was necessary that cars on an out-lap, or cars that weren't trying to set a fast lap time, not be in the way of the cars that were.

Perhaps the car in front of him had slowed down because of the rain, abandoning their flying lap, or they were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, but Jungkook had barely enough time to see him as he came speeding around the corner.

To avoid a collision, Jungkook swerves, but the lack of grip on the wet roads has him spinning out and crashing into the barriers. The impact isn't as harsh as it could've been, but Jungkook still feels the air getting knocked out of him. His race engineer is immediately in his earpiece asking if he's okay, and Jungkook only sighs before replying that he's fine.

The session is stopped for both the rain and removing Jungkook's mangled car from the track, and he's transported back to the garages by a safety car.

As he walks down the pit, he hears the commentators on one of the wall mounted TVs mentioning the lap times that had to be abandoned for the red flag. At the mention of a familiar last name, his heart wrenches.

Your brother had also been on a flying lap, and he had gone fastest in the first two sectors and was on track to setting the fastest time of the session when Jungkook had crashed. Jungkook hadn't been particularly affected, but realising he had ruined your brother's lap time made him feel worse.

After all, your brother was the reason you and Jungkook had met.

You had come to a few of the races this season to support your brother and had met his teammate. Your first impression of Jeon Jungkook, apart from being undeniably attractive, was that he was arrogant.

He had won two World Championships and was on podiums every weekend, he held himself to a high standard and drove like he had nothing to lose.

After your brother had moved to his team, their relationship had started off rocky. The two of them both wanted to win, and sometimes they fought each other too harshly on track and risked losing everything for the team.

The persona that Jungkook played into made you not like him much at first. He constantly pushed your brother to the limits and put both of them in dangerous positions. He was cocky and the articles about him that circulated every weekend didn't do much to help his image.

As the season went on, and they started putting the team before their pride, Jungkook and your brother became good friends, and now they had an incomparable synergy that led to massive points for the team every race.

It was only after the mid-year break that you started to see him in a new light. Your brother had invited him on your vacation for some team bonding, and the forced proximity had shown you that there was more to Jungkook than he let show.

He had taught you how to ski, being so patient and supportive, that you wondered why he would let others perceive him as the complete opposite.

That holiday had bloomed something unexpected, and although you liked to pretend like Jungkook didn't affect you, you both knew there was an undeniable chemistry between you.

Though, for all his douchebag moments, Jungkook knew to stay away from you. You were his teammate's sister after all. So the teasing and flirting never turned into anything more- no matter how much both of you secretly wished it would.

As Jungkook approaches the team garage, he hopes he doesn't see you. He can't bear to see your face after knowing he messed up the perfect chance for your brother to start at the front of the grid for tomorrow's race.

Since he had crashed towards the end of the session, your brother couldn't improve on his previous time, and was only 8th fastest at the conclusion of qualifying. While he would still have a good chance for the winning spot, it made it harder, and Jungkook could only blame himself, which meant you would too.

He sees you standing in one of the corners of the garage, looking up at the TV as a replay of the crash plays. He can just make out your furrowed eyebrows and your hands covering your mouth in shock as you watch Jungkook spin out and hit the barrier.

The next scene cuts to a replay of the radio message where your brother is forced to abandon his flying lap, your brother's disappointment and frustration ringing loud in Jungkook's ears.

As if sensing him, you turn around, meeting Jungkook's eyes straight away. He doesn't even have the chance to blink before you're rushing toward him, almost tripping over nothing as you speed across the garage.

Jungkook braces himself, expecting you to push or shove him while yelling at him, but instead you're crushing yourself against him and leaving him utterly confused.

His arms come up hesitantly and wrap around you and Jungkook soon realises the small tremors he frels are coming from you.

"__? What happened?"

When your head lifts off his racing suit, Jungkook takes in your teary eyes and his heart splinters.

"What happened?!" you mock, before sniffing loudly.

"One second you're on the track and the next your car is halfway into the barriers!"

Your fists grip the material of his suit tightly, as if you were trying to assure yourself that Jungkook was still in one piece, and Jungkook can't help but smile.

You cared about him.

You always acted indifferent towards him in public, rolling your eyes at every flirty comment and acting annoyed by his teasing. But underneath it all, you cared about Jungkook. Always wishing for his safety when he's out on track and celebrating every overtake. Though he may not know some of those things, he now knew you payed more attention to him than you let on.

And that was enough for him.

He brings your head against his chest once more, and hearing the thump of his heartbeat through the material of his clothes calms you down more than he could ever know.

"Those cars are built for a bomb, sweetheart,"

he whispers against your hair, holding you close.

"I'll always come back to you."

absolutely obsessed with f1 driver jungkook.

@lovingyou-lovee

[sillygoofyqueer]

I'm bored, so take different people's reactions to Xie Lian's spiritual array password ('just recite the Ethics Sutra a thousand times'): Quan Yizhen: No matter how many fucking times it is explained to him, he will never get it. He will sit there in utter silence for at least twenty minutes (everyone thinks he's talking to Xie Lian), until he's asked what he's talking about to Xie Lian, and he gets pissy because they interrupted his count - by this time, it becomes realised that he has fallen for it again. Extra points if it's like, a super dangerous mission and his team is in desperate need of support so they're like "Qi Ying, contact His Highness for backup now!" while they fight this massive fucken ghost and he goes utterly still, face screwing up in concentration, and just gets pummelled into the nearest wall. He ends up just using other people to talk to Xie Lian.

Lang Qianqiu: At first, he finds it funny because what a silly little joke from his former mentor, if only he was this funny when he had been teaching him all those years ago. After a while though, he starts getting slowly irritated each time he has to communicate with Xie Lian because he has to catch himself out as he starts reciting the Ethics Sutra, silently cursing himself out in his head. Ling Wen: If she ever does need to communicate with Xie Lian, it's for official business so she has no time to think about it too much, and therefore cannot be tripped up by it. However, after a long while without sleep, she will occasionally find herself quite literally doing what the password commands, and will allow a little smile at the thought. One time when this happened, she was reported to have started manically laughing and placing her head into her hands. Pei Ming: He finds it fucking HILARIOUS. Like, imagine Feng Xin's reaction but times ten at least, as he laughs uproariously and slaps his hand to his knee, all the while pointing at Xie Lian and going, "Your Highness, I didn't realise you were such a comedian!!" No matter how many times he communicates with Xie Lian, he will always laugh at it for a few minutes. He's like a father. I if he's talking about using the array, everyone can immediately tell who he's communicating with based on whether or not he laughs. Shi Qingxuan: I honestly think they'd have a little laugh about it at first, and then never react to it ever again. Like, "Hahaha" and that's it. They never really get caught out by it, because their brain is going into overdrive about whatever they want to talk to Xie Lian about so they just break their way into his Array with little thought to it all. Not that they're dumb in any sense of the word, they're just so focused on their gossip that they shake at the bars of the cage without even remotely thinking too hard about it. Shi Wudu: I know he'd probably communicate with Xie Lian through other people but, on the rare occasion that he communicates with His Highness personally, he is not at all amused. He calls it childish and silly. Well, in public, anyway. In private, he'll probably actually find himself having a little chuckle about it, shaking his head as he enters the array before pulling up his walls instantly. Yushi Huang: Xie Lian gets really embarrassed telling her because it feels childish, and she let him borrow her spiritual device during his first ascension, so he doesn't want her to be like "can't believe I let this child use my spiritual device." When he does eventually tell her, she probably smiles and nods, but doesn't give any other reaction. Inside? Knee slaps all around for the Crown Prince. He Xuan: Why does he have to personally communicate Xie Lian? He doesn't want to risk Hua Cheng beating him if he says something "wrong". When he hears Xie Lian's password, he stares at him with a glower that could kill if it were any other person, letting out the most empty laugh ever so he didn't get beaten, before walking away. So no, he does not care for Xie Lian's humour, and did not fall for it - he did. He did fall for it, but he has such a resting bitch face that it's hard to tell. He gets mad at himself for falling for it. He pretends not to. Hua Cheng knows though, and He Xuan knows that he knows. Yin Yu: So, imagine you're an underpaid, overworked employee with an absolutely terrifying boss. He scares the shit out of you. He has a very lovely husband who he cares about dearly and will definitely be pissed off at you if you dare hurt his husband. His husband makes a joke and you can feel your boss' eyes glaring right into your soul from behind. This is how Yin Yu feels when he's told about Xie Lian's password. So, of course, I'm sure you can all picture the - in Yin Yu's opinion - most exaggerated falling for it ever, followed by laughter that reeks of "please, PLEASE go with this. I don't want to lose my job", until Yin Yu has to physically stop to breathe.

[paucubarsisimp]

second chances

pairing: lando norris x reader, jude bellingham x reader

summary: in which lando and you drifted away because you confesses to him... what happens when he comes back?

warnings: use of y/n, angst

a/n: dont mind the pictures, they're actually terrible. i didn't know what to put 😭

the cold night air cut through your coat like a blade, but it was nothing compared to the chill inside your chest. the ache that never quite went away, the one that had been with you for years. you had told yourself you’d moved on, that you’d buried it deep, far away in the dusty corners of your mind. but no matter how many years passed, no matter how much success you found, the memory of him still lingered. lando.

you should’ve known. you should’ve known from the start that you would never be able to get over him. he was your best friend, the person who saw you through everything—the highs and the lows. but it was always more than friendship, wasn’t it? from the very first time you met him, there was something in the way his eyes sparkled, the way his smile made everything else fade away, that pulled you in like a moth to the flame.

back then, before the fame, before the fame consumed him, lando was just a dreamer. he had this incredible potential, this raw energy that made you believe in him with all your heart. you were just a small-time singer, struggling to make a name for yourself, performing at tiny gigs where no one really cared. but lando? he was going to be something more. you just knew it. and you told yourself it was enough to stand by his side, to support him in any way you could. because you couldn’t risk losing him. not like that. not by confessing the one thing that could ruin everything.

you never said anything, never let on how you felt. but you showed him in other ways. when he got his first F1 contract, you were there. when he made it to the big leagues, you cheered the loudest from the sidelines. when he won his first race, you were there to celebrate. and every time, no matter what, you convinced yourself that it was enough to be his friend.

except it never was. not really. because you were in love with him.

and he… well, he knew.

he knew. it wasn’t even subtle. you could see it in the way he looked at you sometimes, that brief flicker of something more before he masked it with his easy smile. it was as if he knew you were waiting for him to make a move, but he never did. there was always something holding him back. always that invisible line that kept you at arm's length, no matter how close you got.

when his first season in F1 came and went, you started to feel the space between the two of you growing. not just physically, but emotionally. the lights, the cameras, the interviews—everything that came with his rise to stardom—it all began to change him. he became someone you didn’t recognize. or maybe it was you who had changed. maybe you had always been in his shadow, content to let him shine while you faded into the background.

it was during one of those late-night calls that you finally decided to say it. to stop pretending. you were tired of it. tired of the aching in your chest that never went away, tired of always being second place to his dreams. you thought you could be content with just being his friend, but the reality was you had been in love with him for too long.

so, one night, when the world outside felt too quiet, when the distance between the two of you was too much to bear, you finally spoke the words.

“lando, i… i can’t keep doing this,” you whispered, heart hammering. “i’m in love with you. i have been for so long. and i know it’s stupid, i know you’re probably not ready for this, but i need to know if there’s even a chance. i need to know if you ever felt the same way, even just for a second.”

for a long moment, there was nothing but silence on the other end of the line. your heart dropped into your stomach, and you suddenly wished you had never said anything at all. but then, slowly, lando spoke.

“i don’t know what to say, y/n,” his voice was low, careful. “i care about you. i always have. but… this life, everything that’s happening to me right now… it’s a lot. i don’t know if i’m the right person for you. i don’t want to hurt you, but i don’t think i can give you what you need.”

it hit you like a ton of bricks. the final blow. you had always known this day would come, but you thought it would be different. you thought he would see you. see you. but the truth was, he didn’t. not the way you wanted.

and that was the moment you realized: you had been fooling yourself all along. the friendship, the shared moments, the late-night talks—they weren’t enough anymore. you needed more. you wanted more. but he couldn’t give it to you. not now. maybe not ever.

so, you did the only thing you could do: you thanked him. for the honesty, for the years of friendship, and for the love he’d given you in his own way. “i get it,” you whispered. “i always knew. i just needed to hear it. i needed to move on.”

and that was it. you closed the door on that chapter, no more lingering in the shadows of a love that could never be returned.

time passed. you poured yourself into your music, into your career. the songs that used to be filled with longing and heartache slowly became anthems of strength, of survival. the world began to take notice of your voice, your lyrics, your raw vulnerability. your rise in the music industry was nothing short of meteoric. you found yourself on the biggest stages, performing in front of thousands, your name trending across social media. but even with all the success, there was still that empty space in your heart, the one that had been left behind by lando.

you met someone else. someone who wasn’t in the spotlight, someone who could offer you the kind of love you deserved. jude bellingham. the young football star, with his calm confidence and maturity beyond his years. he was different. he was patient, kind, and he made you feel like you were more than just someone who had been in love with a star.

he helped fill that gap. it wasn’t the same—nothing ever could be—but jude brought a lightness back into your life that you hadn’t felt in years. and for the first time in a long while, you felt like maybe you could let go of the past.

but even as you moved on, even as you let yourself fall for jude, there was always a piece of you that still wondered about lando. what would it have been like if he had just seen you? really seen you, for who you were, and not just as his friend.

it wasn’t until the documentary came out, years later, that you were forced to confront the past again. the film was a retrospective of your journey—your rise from struggling artist to global sensation. it was raw, emotional, and filled with moments of vulnerability. but the hardest part was the part about lando.

“there was this one person,” you said, your voice cracking slightly as the camera zoomed in on your face. “someone i loved, someone i thought could be the one. but we were never in sync. it wasn’t his fault. it wasn’t mine. we just… we didn’t fit into each other’s worlds. i was in love with him, but i had to let him go. and i think i’ll always carry that with me.”

you didn’t name him. you didn’t have to. anyone who had followed your story would know exactly who you were talking about.

the next few days were a blur. messages poured in, people congratulating you on your bravery, your honesty. but then, out of nowhere, you saw a message pop up on your phone.

lando norris.

“hey y/n. i watched the documentary. and i’ve been meaning to say this for a long time, but i never knew how. i don’t know if i’ll ever be able to explain it, but i’ve always cared about you. i still do. i’m sorry for everything, for not seeing it when you needed me to.”

your heart stopped. you stared at the screen for what felt like hours, the weight of his words crashing over you. could this really be happening? after all this time? after all the hurt, after all the distance?

you didn’t know what to say. so you didn’t say anything. not yet. instead, you let it sit there, that old ache returning, but this time, you felt a spark of hope. maybe it wasn’t too late. maybe this wasn’t the end of your story with lando.

and just when you thought it was finally time to walk away from the past, you realized that the past hadn’t walked away from you.

it had been waiting. all along.

this time, you wouldn’t let it slip away.

the thing about love is that it doesn’t always happen the way you expect. it doesn't always fit into neat little boxes or timelines. after everything with lando, you told yourself that you were done waiting. you couldn’t spend another second chained to the past, longing for something that might never be. you needed to move forward, to embrace the life you had built for yourself. and jude—jude bellingham—had come into your life at just the right moment.

he wasn’t like lando. he wasn’t wrapped up in a whirlwind of fame and formula 1. he wasn’t a dreamer, lost in his own world of competition and speed. jude was grounded, calm, the kind of person who made you feel safe in ways you hadn’t even realized you needed.

when you first met him, it felt like a breath of fresh air. his easy smile, his kind eyes, his down-to-earth attitude—it was all so different from the fast-paced, high-pressure world of motorsports that you had grown used to. with jude, everything was quiet. everything made sense. he wasn’t perfect—no one was—but he was exactly what you needed at that moment.

you had tried. you really had. you tried to let go of lando, tried to focus on jude, tried to let his love fill the spaces lando had left behind. and, for a while, it worked. jude made you laugh. he made you feel seen. his presence was comforting, the soft rhythm of his voice a lullaby that soothed the frayed edges of your heart. it was real, in its own way. and you told yourself that you were happy, that you were moving on.

but then, lando happened.

the message. the documentary. the raw honesty in his words that had you questioning everything. and there, just like that, the wall you’d built around your heart crumbled.

you tried to push it aside. you had jude now. you had made a life for yourself, built something solid and beautiful. so why, why did it still feel like lando was a part of you that you couldn’t outrun?

but lando was different now. you could see it in the way he looked at you, in the way he listened when you spoke. he wasn’t the same boy who had been unsure of himself, who had kept you at arm’s length. he wasn’t that version of himself anymore. and for the first time, you wondered if you could let him back in.

but there was jude. and jude loved you. he had given you everything, never asking for more than you were ready to give. you couldn’t just throw that away, could you? you couldn’t betray him like that, not when he had been nothing but understanding and supportive.

the internal conflict was tearing you apart.

it was jude who confronted you first. one evening, after a long day of filming, he looked at you, his expression unreadable but with a flicker of concern in his eyes.

“y/n, i know something’s going on,” he said softly, taking your hand in his. “you’ve been distant lately. i don’t know if this is about lando or if it’s something else, but you need to be honest with me.”

his words hit you hard. you had always prided yourself on being transparent, on not hiding things from the people you loved. but you had been hiding this. hiding the truth. you had been so afraid of hurting him, of losing him, that you hadn’t even allowed yourself to feel.

“i—” you started, but your throat felt tight, and your words faltered. “jude, i— i don’t want to hurt you. i don’t want to lose you.”

he shook his head gently. “then talk to me. i need to understand what’s going on with you. what’s going on with us.”

you swallowed hard, knowing that there was no easy way to say it, but knowing that it was the only way forward. “it’s just that… i thought i was done. i thought i had moved on, and i really tried, jude. i did. but… lando’s back. and i can’t help but wonder if i’ve been lying to myself about how i feel.”

jude’s face fell, his jaw tightening as if he were trying to hold back his emotions. you could see the hurt in his eyes, but there was something else there, too. something almost resigned.

“i get it,” he said quietly. “you’ve loved him for a long time. i’ve always known. but i also know that what we have is real, y/n. you need to decide what you want, and if you want me, i’m here. i’ve been here.”

and in that moment, it hit you. how much jude had been there for you. how he had never asked for anything more than what you were ready to give. he had been patient. he had loved you when you couldn’t love yourself.

but there was a part of you that still loved lando. and you had to face that truth.

that night, you stood on the balcony of your apartment, the cold air brushing against your skin, your phone clutched tightly in your hand. the message from lando still burned in your mind. he had apologized. he had confessed. and there, in that silence, you realized that you had been waiting for his apology all these years.

you typed a message back to him.

“i don’t know what this means. i don’t know where we go from here. but i need to see you. i need to talk about everything. please.”

and lando—being lando—was quick to respond.

“i’ll be there. just tell me when.”

the conversation with jude had been agonizing, but it was necessary. you needed to choose. and you needed to choose now. the past couldn’t remain in limbo forever.

you met with lando a few days later, in the quiet of an empty café. he looked different, somehow—older, wiser—but still undeniably the same person you had fallen in love with. he was wearing a hoodie, his hair messy from the wind, his eyes fixed on you as if you were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

“i’ve always wanted you, y/n,” he said, his voice low, regret in his words. “but i wasn’t ready before. and i know that hurts. but i’m here now. and i want to make this right.”

your heart thudded painfully against your ribcage. “i don’t know if i can let myself fall for you again, lando. not when i’ve built something real with jude. not when he’s been there for me.”

“i’m not asking you to forget about him,” lando said, his voice thick with emotion. “i’m asking you to let me be part of your life. i’m asking you to give me a chance to love you the way you deserve. no more games. no more waiting. just us.”

you felt a tear slip down your cheek, not from sadness but from the weight of everything that had led you here.

“i’m scared,” you whispered, voice shaking. “i’m so scared.”

“i know,” lando said, reaching across the table to gently take your hand in his. “but i’m not going anywhere. not this time.”

and just like that, you let go. you let go of the fear, of the past, and of the guilt that had held you back for so long. you didn’t know what would come next, but for the first time in years, you felt like you were making the right choice.

as you walked out of the café, hand in hand with lando, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something real. something lasting.

but you would always be grateful for jude—for the love he had shown you when you were at your most vulnerable, for his understanding, and for being the person you needed when you weren’t ready for what you truly wanted.

in the end, love was never about perfection. it was about finding your way back to the people who mattered, to the ones who made you feel whole, and to the ones who loved you through all of your flaws. and for you, that person was lando.

finally, you were where you were always meant to be.

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @everythingblaesthtic @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, lmk if you want to be added!

this was requested!

[bluepurplepinklock]

Tsundere! Itoshi Rin x reader, where he insists he's well despite having a fever and you take care of him, making him open up to you a little more.

You wondered what lay beneath the hundred cold walls Rin has built around himself. Maybe more walls to keep others out. To keep you out. Because despite being together for a few months now, you still felt as if he never opened up to you.

Once you thought there was something wrong with you. Maybe Rin wasn't actually in love with you. That's why he still kept his distance. But no, he has proven time and time again, in those subtle ways of his, that the thought is false.

It has now become your mission in life to help him break out of his shell. Because you know, deep beneath those walls, he is lonely and sad and a beautiful person still, a person you'll always love.

And when he woke up with a burning fever beside you, Rin, being his stubborn self decided it was nothing.

"What do you mean it's nothing?" You call out as he slips out of bed, ready to start his day by heading to the gym.

"I said…" he walka to the bathroom with trembling steps, his breath hitching, "don't worry about me. I'm fine."

"You are anything but fine, Rin," you stomp over to him, blocking the bathroom door and glaring up at him, "stay in bed!"

Rin growls, now you have pissed him off. Interrupting his morning routine like this needs guts only you have.

"Listen here…" he trails off, his feet wobbling as he loses balance.

"Shit!" You support him upright, his weight crushing you down as his vision blurs, "Rin! You okay?"

"I'm… I'm fine…" he gasps, and stumbles back towards the bed as you help him lie down.

"Exactly," you scoff, folding your arms as you watch him catch his breath, sprawled on the bed, "you seem perfectly fine."

"…leave." Rin spits out, struggling to grab the covers.

You sigh and sit down beside him, pulling the sheets over him, "Rin, stop it."

He eyes you questioningly, still irritated.

"Stop," you lean forward and brush his soft hair away from his eyes, lightly caressing his face as he visibly relaxes, "stop shutting me out. I want to be with you. I want to see and love everything of you. So please, don't shut me out."

Rin was taken aback, his face dropping his cold mask. After a long stare with your fingers still soothing his face, he shut his eyes and you felt like you had never seen him this relaxed before as he weakly grabbed your palm and placed a feverish kiss on it.

"Sorry," you almost didn't hear him mumble, "I don't want you to leave. I just... I just..." he grabbed his face, trying to contain himself before he slips up and reveals his true self.

His true self which you would see and won't love back. It scares him. That's the only thing that scares him, you leaving him behind like everyone else did, like his brother did. But when he looked into those eyes of yours, drowned in concern and love for him, he decided that maybe you are different. Maybe you would see beneath his mask and still love what you see.

He's willing to take the risk. For you, he's willing.

And so, he opened his arms towards you, his face so loving, needy and human- so unlike the cold, hard mask he always wore, and whispered,

"I'm sorry. I won't shut you out. I want you to... want you to stay..." he gulped, his spread out arms trembling due to his rising fever, "Please?"

With a soft smile, you accept his embrace, snuggling into his heated body as he envelopes you, draping his legs over yours and burying you in his chest.

You wish you could stay that way for longer. But Rin needed medicine, and you were pleasantly surprised when he let you feed him the porridge you prepared.

Maybe after this, he'd start letting you in. Maybe his mask and his walls would slowly melt off until he would be bare before you, and you'd love him still.

A/N: Ah yes, my messed up Rin who shuts people out despite knowing he's damaging himself. Tell me if you guys need more of Tsundere! Rin because I sure do.

©bluepurplepinklock (Do not copy, steal or translate my work)

[sinsofnivan]

hiii thank you so much for writing carlos

eumm can I ask for another Carlos x reader fluff and nsfw

pleaseee im begging

Have a nice day!

divider gif belongs to kdanie.

CARLOS OLIVEIRA HEADCANONS .ᐟ

A/N: ask and you shall receive. :smirk_cat:

SFW/fluff.

⟡ ── a gentleman through and through. every door you come across—an entrance to the mall or shop, your car door, he always opens and holds it for you.

⟡ ── he also switches to the side closest to the street when you're out on walks, your bag slung atop his shoulder. you will never get the chance to hold your own bags, because he always steals it from your hands. don't try to argue or reach for it. because if you do, he'll just raise it above his head and tease you for being too short.

⟡ ── always goes along with whatever you wanna do. you saw this trend on tiktok where men's girlfriends wrap ribbons around their biceps? bet. that trend where girlfriends cover their boyfriends with lipstick kisses? fucking bet. make him wear a ghostface mask? consider it done.

seriously. as long as it seemed fun and was safe and consensual, he'll do it.

⟡ ── fucking looooves to flaunt you off. especially when you're wearing a dress that he bought? or when you do your nails the colours that he suggested? it's his own way of branding you, letting everyone know that you were being treated right by him.

⟡ ── carlos also loves the way you smell. he always finds himself burying his nose in your hair when you cuddle. it soothes him. when you're not around, he cuddles your sweater so it feels like you're with him.

⟡ ── not the jealous type. he's very confident.

⟡ ── lover of all bodies too, by the way. he doesn't care if you gain weight. he benches your body weight ( and more. ) just so he could show you that he can carry you in his arms.

⟡ ── also dates to marry.

⟡ ── your number one supporter. if you have zero fans, he's dead. he's always pushing you to pursue your dreams, encouraging you to take risks.

⟡ ── loves to make you laugh. your laugh is his favourite sound eveeeerrrr.

⟡ ── also, carlos is a romantic.

⟡ ── he's the greenest of all green flags.

NSFW/lewd.

⟡ ── always goes along with whatever you wanna do. you wanna be on top? sure. interested in trying this bdsm shit? kinky, but sure. make him wear a ghostface mask? dang, you're so freaky, but alright, bet.

"babe, what do you mean you want to wrap a ribbon around it?"

⟡ ── does not give a shit if you shaved or not. he'll eat you out no matter what. he's also pretty hairy. sometimes trims his bush, but you don't seem to have any complaints with it.

⟡ ── has good head game. you can't tell me otherwise. he would be orally fixated too, always sucking on your nipples or your clit as a past time.

⟡ ── yes, he always finds your clit.

⟡ ── used condoms when you first started exploring your sex life. the first time he goes in raw, he literally just spills his cum with just a few thrusts.

carlos swears that he's never using condoms again after that day. and it's a memory you both still giggle at.

⟡ ── loves to 69. he really just loves the feeling of your warm throat while he gets to taste you too. he's just addicted to your taste of your cunt and cum . . literally he can cum just by jerking off to the thought of it.

⟡ ── sometimes dirty talks to you in spanish. especially when he's really immersed in the moment.

⟡ ── literally loves every position. as long as he gets to bury his cock deep inside you, he's happy. he's not a titties man or an ass man or even a thigh man, he's an i love my girlfriend's body man. so whatever position you want him in—doggy, missionary, cowgirl—it didn't matter. he's always gonna end up rutting his hips and vigorously ramming your creamy cunt.

⟡ ── both a degradation and praise connoisseur. it's just the perfect mix of both, and he does it so well, too . . .

⟡ ── also, he doesn't mean to but he loves leaving hickeys on your body. mostly on your chest and on the inside of your thighs. he also loves it when you mark him or scratch him.

⟡ ── loves to edge himself so he can cum a thick, fat load into you and watch his cum leak from your pretty cunt.

⟡ ── has a stamina of a god. he can go for a few more rounds after he's reached his peak. especially when you're still horny and want more, he's more than eager to shove his fingers into you while his tongue lapped up your clit.

⟡ ── loves to cuddle and kiss you all over when you're both spent.

⟡ ── you didn't hear this from me but he also loves cockwarming. something about keepin' you plugged and stretched makes his brain go brrr . . .

end.

[forsworned]

It’s said canonically that simon riley has trauma around intimacy from torture 😔 If you feel comfortable writing it, can I please ask for a short fic of an Afab reader body worshipping/lovingly pleasuring Simon after they both work through his trauma and he’s getting all soft and emotional and babbling about how good reader is making him feel and how much he loves them and can’t believe someone cares about him this much? I always liked the idea of Simon being portrayed as vulnerable and soft and not this dom sex god a lot of people portray him to be. I really love your work and would love to see your take on this request :)

Soft ft. Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Author's Note: So I do recall someone making a post about this and I have to say I do not agree with everything. Men definitely process trauma, specifically sexual trauma a lot differently than women do. While women experience guilt, men experience anger. And maybe it's not all men who experience it that way, but after reading the comic and making my own assessment, I can say that Simon does have lingering anger. Of course, he is hell-bent on avenging his dead family, but all that pent-up energy could be going toward trying to even the score. He is pretty level-headed and able to compartmentalize. He has support from his comrades as well as undergoes mandatory rigorous mental health assessments because that's military protocol. He needs to be able to perform his duties on the field without putting himself or others at risk. He also most certainly gets mandatory counseling. Although he may be reluctant, his superiors are very much aware of the possible impact that it has on his mental health. So all that to say that Simon is not without help. He is not as "damaged" as people may perceive him to be. He's not a broken individual. As seen in the remastered MW's, albeit reluctant he can clearly put his trust in others. He develops relationships with the people who he works closely with meaning he is capable of change. SIGH. I just wish people would break this down a little more, but I do get what you're saying. His masculinity, trust issues, and the type of secret operations he goes on can lessen the effectiveness of the therapy. He's definitely a very complex character with layers to him, but I just don't think he's as weak as you may think he is. It's also important to note that it hasn't been confirmed that this current Simon went through the same thing. He could have a completely different background. Honestly, Activision is so fucking inconsistent but ANYWAYSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS I hope you enjoy this. Also if you read this all the way through, I applaud you. But thank you for enjoying my work, I didn't mean to critique you and your request, but I just couldn't let it slide LOL

Warnings: PnV sex, AFAB!Reader, Some Canon Simon Lore, Sexual Content, Mentions of Sexual Trauma

"Si—Simon..."

You sigh out in pleasure with every roll of your hips as you grind down on him. Your clit grazes against his lower abdomen, and his cock stretches you out pliant. Fingers dig into his shoulders, marking half crescents into his pale, scarred skin. But something feels off.

His hands loosen their grip on your hips, and upon opening your eyes you find him his half-lidded gaze distant in a familiar haze. He isn't present.

"Simon." You halt the rutting of your hips, cupping his stubbly cheeks. "Are you alright?"

His onyx hues fixate on you. He is clearly readjusting his withdrawn eyes to refocus on you. You didn't want to say it yet, but you had felt him go a little soft a few seconds prior. "We can stop."

"No, no." His fingers squeeze your middle as he sits up a bit. You shake your head, but he's not letting up. "Why stop?"

You firmly grasp his face and his blonde lashes flutter up at you with a seemingly unreadable expression, but you're no stranger to Simon's detachment. Although he loathes to admit it, it happens. The relearning of being intimate is tumultuous for him.

"Because you're not mentally here, my love."

He frowns. "But I want y'to finish."

You exhale sharply. He doesn't even deny it. "No, Simon. I'd feel disgusted with myself if I finished while you weren't here with me."

He struggles to reply. In all honesty, he doesn't know what to say. It's not exactly a common occurrence, but he's not too keen on having a conversation about it. You never pry though. His therapy sessions are his own, unless, of course, you join him if he so desires.

Couples counseling is mandatory. A rule you established when you first decided to tie the knot. If you had problems that were beyond just a sit-down talk, a professional would have to intervene. And Simon agreed. No fuss, no muss. To preserve the sacredness of your relationship, he'd do anything.

He sighs. "'m sorry, dovie." He caresses your sides, feeling the gooseberries on your skin rise. A small smile adorns his lips and you giggle at his smugness.

"Stop it." You begin to get off of him, but Simon holds you firmly. You feel his dick harden inside of you, now kissing your cervix. A little gasp escapes your chest as you readjust yourself.

"Y'like tha'?" Simon's grinning now. It's his confidence gleaming through the abysmal darkness of his mind. The life in his eyes feels revitalized, and you now feel his vigor—literally.

"Yes, but..."

"'m here, love." He reaffirms, squeezing your waist again. "'m here. Please, 'm achin' for you."

He groans a bit and bucks his hips when he feels you pulsate around him. You return your own moan, leaning forward but his fingers thread through your hair and he brings you into a sloppy, heated kiss. His hips thrust into you slowly and deeply, earning a guttural moan from him.

For a moment as you withdrew from the kiss, your gazes meet and Simon's eyes soften and become glossy with tears that brim over his oculars and spill over the corners of his eyes.

"Oh, baby." You coo, holding him close as you kiss his face. His sadness is silent, yet palpable. You're now babbling sweet, sweet words to him as you pepper him with kisses, and Simon holds you as if you're going to slip away. You gently guide him through the double inhale technique you learned from your therapist, and with the sweetness of your voice, the kindness in your eyes, and the tenderness of your touch, he feels at ease.

"I dunno how y'put up with me."

You grin, kissing the corner of his lip. "It ain't easy."

"Oh?" He flips you over on your back, pressing you firmly against the mattress and you giggle into the nape of his neck. "Wanna say that again, love?"

You thread your fingers through his sandy blonde hair and kiss the tip of his nose. "You're not hard to love, Simon."

His eyes soften once more and he kisses you deeply. Simon has never cherished anyone more in his life. You were always so patient and kind from the jump. You were truly the "greater woman" behind the "great man".

He rests his forehead against yours and closes his eyes as you gently card your fingers in his hair.

"Thank you, lovie."

[hello-gloomy]

Maybe a xeno x fem reader. She's his girlfriend and a part of the American colony. This is set when senku and the others first arrived. One day the reader just got very sick and xeno needed medicine but he couldn't make anything because he needed something that wasn't native to the US(just pretend) and when he learned that senku had the sulfa drug, he called a temporary truce so he could get the medicine to help her.

Sorry it's short again. I hope u like it anyway.

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

In Sickness

Xeno Wingfield × Sick Fem!Reader

Description: Xeno makes a deal with the Japanese colony to get medicine for you.

Warnings: SO much fucking sap bro and a nit of angst with fluff ofc.

A/N: My bad if the end felt rushed I started strong and then it felt down hill ngl. Future edit: I feel like some of yall be stalking my page jus waiting for me to post lmao 🤣

Words: 663

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A warm cloth brushing the sweat off your head woke you from your restless sleep; when you opened your eyes to the dim room, you saw your sweet doctor taking care of you. He looked like he was in a sour mood; something must have blown up again. You smile at and greet him; he pouts in response and lays his head on your chest, analyzing your face. Your sickly color has gotten worse, and your eyes are sunken in and more red than usual. His eyes felt dry with tears. You weren't improving, and he could do nothing about it. You took notice of his turmoil about your situation and started brushing his silver hair. He buried his head in your chest in response, not bearing to look at the love of his life slowly dying and not being able to do anything about it; what was the point of all his knowledge if he couldn't even use it to help you? He stayed with you longer than usual today and didn't leave until Stanley called him to the lab for an emergency.

"I will make you better, I promise." With that, you went back to sleep, this time with a dream of you and Xeno enjoying dinner at a table instead of a sad white room.

When he had finished questioning Gen, he finally asked about the medicine they had acquired in Japan and if they had taken any with them on their voyage; when the boy had answered him truthfully, he tried his best not to get his hopes up. He would hate to have to give up his plans to get the herbs, but he wouldn't want to risk losing you by taking it forcefully.

"I'll support you with either decision you make, Xe." Stanley had put to him; he motioned for Stan to follow him to the communication room for now and dragged Gen along with them. He held his face in thought for a bit before coming to the choice of working with them for now, and if he did like how things turned out with you, he'd just have Stanley kill them all, slowly.

"I'm willing to have a truce with your group, Dr. Taiju, on the condition that you share any of the medicine you have in your question with me." There was a pause, and he could make out some muffled chatter before being answered.

"You have a deal." That new voice sounded oddly familiar. They planned to meet in a neutral zone so neither could try to exploit the other. He visited you before leaving, telling you he loved you and would return soon. He placed the important ring on your finger before he left, placing a kiss and a promise in your hands.

They started their trek to the neutral point. When they arrived, Xeno was surprised to see that the familiar voice was precisely who he thought it was.

"Dr. Senku." Said Xeno; the boy scoffed and rubbed his neck in response. They exchanged tense greetings and traded supplies. Xeno would have prolonged the moment with his pupil but was more haggard about getting back to you as fast as possible. He wanted you to be better, enjoy this new world with him, and be at his side, healthy and happy again, just like you used to be. He returned to your room and saw you sleeping peacefully; you were still breathing, which eased his heart significantly. He put you to rouse you gently; you blinked at him with bleary eyes and smiled at him; he whispered to you gently about the medicine and made you sit up.

"You went through all of that for me?" You asked him after a smaller coughing fit; he, in turn, hugged you close, crushing you in his arms.

"I would gladly watch the world end again for you." That night, he spent it in your bed, finally getting the sleep you both deserved.

[thefirstlioveyou]

Mike's Core Fear - No, it isn't not being needed/loved, and no, he doesn't actually need El to need him

Disclaimer: this is technically a discussion on whether mike's Enneagram is type 6 or 2, but this is can still read as a general analysis on mike's actual driving fear. i've been stumped on which he is because of his whole thing with wanting to be needed by el, but still somehow matching entirely as a type 6. i realized while how it may seem his fear is not being needed... it's not the core fear driving mike's actions. also, i'm still learning about the enneagram. bare with me if i mess up or misunderstand something lol. and please correct me

Mike isn't a Type Two just because he wants to be needed by El. He just doesn't relate to any of the motivations of a Two. He isn't wanting or expecting appreciation for his efforts. He doesn't feel under appreciated. Even though he technically is, that isn't relevant to him here. He doesn't care about that. It's the exact opposite. Mike doesn't feel deserving. He feels like he does nothing. He feels inferior to El.

If he is not a Two, this means at his core, Mike's deepest fear isn't not being loved/needed like we've been thinking. Don't get me wrong, it is one of his wants (I mean.. Who doesn't want to be needed and loved?). It's something he canonically cares about... It's just not for the reason we've been thinking. It's not what he desires the most. It's not what he truly fears.

I think his core fear is something along the lines of abandonment/rejection and being without support/guidance, making him a Type Six.

i can't really articulate my explanation with all the terminology since i'm still learning more and more about enneagram typing. but I will try to make sense in my own way lol.

here are some quick things that show me mike's afraid of abandonment and to be without support/guidance:

- he is constantly losing will and el throughout the show in different ways, affecting him greatly every time. loss is already a consistent theme in his story.

- mike hides the real reason for his bruise from el, avoiding potential rejection or embarrassment. he doesn't want el to see him the way others do and essentially drive her away.

- before meeting will, he claims to have felt so scared and alone because he didn't have any friends and knew no one. fear went away once he did finally meet someone. not a lot of kids express feeling scared and alone with tears on the first day of school. scared, sure!! who isn't? but scared and alone? now that's another thing, especially just for the first day.

- one of his fears is revealed in dustin's book. he is scared of letting down the ones he loves. what happens when you let someone down? you're at risk of losing that person's respect, love, support, etc.

- will's "what if they don't like the truth?" resonates with mike. this is similar to the point above. mike is afraid to el the truth because he doesn't want to disappoint and let her down - he's at risk of losing her entirely.

- when mike tries to reach el in s2 on halloween through the walkie talkie, he talks about having a bad day and wishing she was there. he also reaches out again to her after having a bad dinner with his parents and being forced to donate his toys as a punishment. he doesn't specify that to her, but it becomes clear why he's trying to communicate to her. he's trying to cope with events in his own life.

- during mike's monologue, he admits he doesn't know how to live without el. hmmm.

that all being said... as you can probably tell, there's a specific pattern when it comes to el lol. i think it's safe to say:

mike doesn't need el to need him - he needs her.

why? well it makes perfect sense. el is his shield. she has protected him from the main thing that brought him trouble his whole life - his bullies (and the supernatural)

But, she is also the superhero he feels inferior to, the superhero he wishes he could be.. but instead is lois lane (actually, he feels even less than her).

season 1, el protects mike and saves him in multiple occasions from bullies. he is saved from getting ass beat by troy. he is saved from literal death. she saves the whole group as a whole in multiple occasions from the supernatural and government.

mike calls her a weapon. this is important because the only thing mike's seen her use her powers as defense at that point was to defend him from his bullies and when him and lucas were fighting. interesting huh?

Before we see her save him from bullies, we are introduced to the group's experience with bullying. we get a scene where mike is tripped and ends up with a scab on his chin, which he hides from her until she manages to get the truth out of him. She tells him she understands.

ALL THIS is why he keeps referring back to her powers and putting her on a pedestal. THIS is why he sees himself as lois lane and her as superman. Without her, he has no actual defense or "weapon." Without her, he would've died because of his bullies. He is projecting what he wishes he could be on her.

"You can fly." no?? she can make you fly, mike

This is one of the reasons why the cliff scene is SO important. Mike and Dustin are confronted with their bullies who are looking for revenge. The bullies threaten Mike. If he doesn't jump off the cliff, they will cut off Dustin's baby teeth. Mike is defenseless. He doesn't have powers. He can't fight someone who has a knife. His aim is shit enough. He can't do anything. He has to jump and throw away his life, ultimately letting the bullies win. With true bravery, he steps off the cliff for his friend. Gone. Oh wait. He's saved by a supernatural force. He doesn't actually fall to death - He flies his way back to the surface instead! Winning against the bullies... The bullies running away scared... Except... that was all of El's doings. Not his. She's the one who saved him and Dustin. Not him. She's the one who gets the praise, not him. Why would he? Over someone like that? Mike gets it. He's just as impressed.

Similar thing happens in the sauna test. While Mike is the only one with the courage to stop Billy from choking El, it still isn't enough. He once again has to be saved by her.

Notice how he doesn't even try to defend himself as Troy goes for him. He's still like he is in the sauna when Billy has him trapped.

He doesn't fight back. He may start the fight... But he never can finish it. It's either physically impossible or because of discouragement. But, that doesn't stop Mike from for some reason trying again. Still no good.

And even more to think about: He goes about how he thinks El doesn't need him anymore. But.. when has she even suggested to him that she needs him? Like, actually? He's literally just assuming that.

S1, before the trauma of losing her, he was genuinely just trying to help her because she actually did need help. S2, she's not even there. He's literally desperately trying to reach out to her without even hearing anything back from her. He's the one that needs her, not the other way around. S3, she literally basically says it to his face she doesn't need him. S4, el's actions to mike are closed off. she lied the entire time. it's not like she was begging for his help and for him the whole time?

We only ever see HER saving and protecting Mike, not the other way around. There is nothing for Mike to think she needs him. Therefore... This whole thing is just another case of mike projecting once again. Classic Michael! Also very much a Six thing - Projection of fears and insecurities.

Now that we got the whole Mike and El thing out of the way..

If he is a Two, and if he fears not being needed the most, and to be needed is *the* desire, where does the forced conformity part of his storyline even come from then?

Seeing him as a Six makes the forced conformity bit align far better than if he really is a Two.

Season 2. He is immediately confused by Lucas and Dustin's interest in Max. He doesn't understand their crushes the whole season and ends up pissed as hell by it. He refuses to let her in the Party and rejects her (something a type two would not do). In his eyes, she is ruining the structure of the group. Lucas and Dustin spend more time with her during Halloween and ruins his day, later complaining about it to El briefly on the walkie talkie.

He just can't understand their obsession with this girl. He is behind all of them, he feels.. at least based on the least possibly obvious blocking /s.

He's alone on this. They all agree on this except him. The structure of the group is falling apart due to crushes and girls when he obviously doesn't want them to go to the direction.

But by the end of the season, while sitting alone at the snowball as the rest of his friends dance with someone, this is where he finally decides to give in and join the rest in growing up and focus on girls. Mike doesn't want to be behind and alone, but he can't stop this change. They have to grow up. He chooses to stick to society's rules because that's the most secure way through. That's where his friends are, his source of support and guidance, so that's where he'll be.

He needs El because he needs the strength and protection she gives that he believes he doesn't have himself, which he must learn to conquer. He does not want to be left behind and therefore conforms to fit in with his friends, pushing aside all the things he really actually wants. Despite his overwhelming insecurities, he wants to be the paladin he is in DnD. He wants to lead a structured group to victory. He wants to lead his own life instead of following societal expectations, even if he's alone on it (which he won't be)

Mike is stuck with lots of fears and insecurities and is afraid of being without support or guidance. "I don't know how to live without you" tells you exactly what Mike needs to learn - How to live without someone like El who shields him. He must become a hero himself and must believe it is possible, regardless of what his little negative head tells him. He is meant to be Superman.

Mike is a six. End of the post.

(specifically 6w7 but not the argument here lol)

[band--psycho]

Sevika x Fem!Reader - Before Things Changed

So this is based off a request from @arevik2345 who requested an enemies - lovers trop with Sevika; but I decided to change it slightly to the lovers -enemies - lovers trope! (So don't worry there will be at least 4 parts to this series)

This is my first Sevika story so please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated!

Requests are still open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over (thank you to everyone who's requested a story so far, I'm working my way through them!)

I hope you all enjoy this! Thank you all for the continued support!💛

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

Sevika Masterlist / Arcane Masterlist / Join My Taglist

Warnings: Overthinking!reader, mentions of loss, smut, fingering, overstimulation, dominating!Sevika, edging (18+)

You knew Sevika was angry, you could feel it radiating off of her even when the two of you arrived  home. 

You didn’t agree with what she said to Vander, about him being weak; but you understood why she’d said it.

Having the Enforcers down in the Lanes was making everyone uncomfortable. 

The disrespect the Enforcers showed everyone down here was horrible, but it wasn’t Vanders fault, the Enforcers were just arrogant shitheads. 

You also knew that Vander meant what he said, when he said that he would protect anyone in the Lanes; he wasn’t just protecting the kids because they were his kids, he was protecting them because they were from the Lanes.

Though you did have to admit that you could see how people were coming to this conclusion. 

“Don’t you think you were a bit harsh to Vander?” You asked Sevika softly from the sofa, watching as she grabbed a bottle of alcohol from the cupboard. 

“No,” Sevika answered bluntly, taking a large swig of the drink before sitting down next to you. 

A soft sigh left your lips as you shuffled slightly in the seat so that you were closer to her. 

“He’s just trying to do what he thinks is right,” you countered back, grabbing the bottle from Sevikas hands and taking a few sips of it before handing it back to her. 

“He’s wrong,” she stated bluntly, taking the bottle back from you

“He’s just trying to protect us." 

Sevika let out a small scoff at your words; as she turned to look at you, “You agree with him?” 

You did. 

Vander was your friend. 

You trusted him

Besides, you weren’t a fighter; not like Sevika..

You didn’t like the Enforcers, that was a fact. 

But you knew what another uprising meant. 

It meant that there was a risk of losing people you cared about…

It meant that you could lose Sevika. 

And you didn’t want that. 

So no, you didn’t want the uprising to happen. 

Did that make you a coward? 

Probably. 

But you didn’t care. 

You’d already seen enough death, suffered enough loss, that the thought of losing her, made your heart feel heavy.

“You know what happened last time…” you began, reaching out and tentatively stroking her arm, your eyes meeting hers, “I just don’t want to lose you.”

You watched  as a small grin grew on her lips as she placed the bottle down on the table beside her. 

“You worry about me so much, angel,” she hummed, savouring how delicate your fingers felt on her skin as she leaned in closer to you, “But you’re never gonna lose me.”

You wanted to believe her words; and put this down to your mind just jumping to the worst case scenario as it so often did.

But this wasn’t one of those scenarios. 

And no matter how much you wanted to trust the woman in front of you, you couldn’t. 

She was a skilled fighter, but that didn't make her untouchable. 

Your thoughts were halted when you felt Sevikas lips softly kissing up your arm.

“Sev, what are you doing?”

“Getting you outta your head,” she breathed, her lips trailing kisses up the side of your neck.

You hated how she could do this. 

How she could distract you from your thoughts with such ease. 

“Just relax, baby,” she whispered, her lips now only inches away from yours; as she ran her other hand under your oversized tshirt and up your chest to your breasts, “let me take care of you,”

 it was almost embarrassing how easily you complied with her orders. 

“Sevi,” you whined in response, laying back on the sofa,  the anticipation of her touch making your core ache with desperation. 

You needed her.

Needed her touch. 

Her lips. 

Something. 

Anything. 

You were so desperate for even the slightest touch.

It was all you could focus on. 

Sevika was all you could focus on; your thoughts and worries from earlier drifting further to the back of your mind with every blissfully torturous touch she left on your skin. 

“That’s it baby, just focus on me,” she praised, noticing how your body was squirming slightly beneath her, a clear sign to her that you needed more. 

“So needy,” she smirked with satisfaction. 

She’d barely even touched you and you were already a mess. 

She knew what she was doing to you; and she couldn’t help but revel in it. Revel at the little noises that were falling from your lips with every little touch she left on your bare skin; revel in how fucking beautiful you looked right now, with a look of desperation forming in your eyes.

Sevikas hand, the one that had been on your chest was now slowly drifting down to the place you craved to be touched the most. 

Even in the dimly lit room, you noticed a twinkle in her eyes as her thumb softly massaged your swollen clit. 

You could’ve cum just from that single touch alone; and you almost did, until Sevika quickly withdrew her hand from you. 

There was no denying that Sevika found it addictive, seeing you like this. 

But she needed to see more. 

That’s why she made such quick work of effortlessly removing your panties and oversized shirt  from your body, tossing them aside, so you were completely naked beneath her. 

She couldn’t take her eyes away from you; she was just staring at you, completely captivated. 

You opened your mouth, to beg her to just touch you; but your words morphed into a loud moan when she pushed two fingers inside your dripping pussy. 

You attempted to cover your mouth with your hand, but Sevika made short work of pinning both of your hands above your hand; her fingers pumping inside you at a relentless speed, ensuring to hit your sweet spot every time. 

“Need to hear you, angel,” she whispered in your ear before lightly biting the crook of your neck, eliciting another moan from you. 

You’d lost track of how many times you came. 

All you knew was that it was enough times to make your head feel all woozy. 

But Sevika didn’t stop; she just kept going. 

She kept pushing you over the edge again and again and again.

“Sev-Sevi-”you panted as you came down from another high, “I can���t-”

Sevikas pulled her fingers back to the entrance of your pussy, her thumb (unbeknownst to you) hovering over your clit once again. 

“Awh have you had enough, baby?” She teased, kissing the side of your mouth, flicking your sensitive nub with her thumb lightly, “I think you should be a good girl and cum for me again.”

You were so far gone; lost in the bliss of your countless oragasms, that you couldn’t deny her. 

Especially not when her fingers started pumping in and out of you again. 

Her words mixed with the fast pace of her fingers in conjunction with the occasional taps on your overstimulated clit, had your back arching once again.

“Sevikaaa fuck,” you moaned as she sent you tumbling over the edge of your own pleasure.

“Such a good girl,” Sevika praised against your skin, before placing a delicate kiss on your lips as she removed her fingers from your core. 

“So beautiful,” she whispered to you, making a tired chuckle fall from your lips. 

Beautiful? 

You were certain you looked a complete and utter mess. 

Despite your thoughts, Sevika just continued to whisper those words to you, as she pressed her lips over the bite marks on your neck as she laid next to you on the sofa, your legs intertwining with each others.

You were completely and utterly exhausted and you could feel yourself slowly drifting off to sleep, but you fought to keep your eyes open and yourself awake, desperate to give Sevika the same pleasure she’d given you. 

But when you went to touch her, she lightly grabbed your hand, halting your movements.

“Sevika-”

“Shh, just relax baby,” she muttered, pulling you closer to her. 

“But what about you?” You whispered softly as your thumb rubbed small circles into the back of her hand. 

“This was about getting you to relax,” she stated, nuzzling her head into the crook of your neck. 

You could’ve argued with her; but one, you knew that was going to be like fighting a losing battle and two, you were too tired to disagree with her. 

It only took a few minutes for sleep to take a hold of you; meanwhile Sevika was still awake. 

She understood your worries about another uprising; but things were getting out of hand now and someone had to do something about it, to protect the Undercity. 

Sevika thought Vander was that man, until tonight, now she doubted he was, which meant she needed to find someone who could do the job Vander couldn’t do. 

Tagging:

@xacatalepsyx @barbersjoy @conretewings @the-lone-librarian @cass-brightwood @fortune-fool02 @arielpanda1 @mothratic @simping-ella @stickyrice5096 @levis-butterfingers @lesbianinyourarea @vvampirelust

[pilim]

cw: pregnant reader, fm!reader, anxious Remus, caring Remus, young Remus, fluff.

tw: —

summary: the reader is eight months pregnant and Remus is very worried about them. sometimes even neglecting sleep.

After the news of your pregnancy broke, Remus became more than protective. It was as if a multitude of worms of doubt were swarming under his skin, roughly and greedily eating away at his flesh.

Milk, nappies, cribs, first baby teeth, colic in the stomach, rashes, baby powders... and the possible risk of being infected with lycanthropy. This point unnerved Remus the most and he spent many hours in the library to find out whether this disease can be passed on by inheritance. You had to personally pull your husband out from under the mountains of scrolls so that he could finally straighten his hunched back and eat. Only thanks to your persuasion, a couple of books with several hundred pages each and encouragement from Sirius and James, Remus with difficulty but still managed to put his paranoia on his plan.

Nevertheless, he did not stop treating you as the most gentle creature in the world, especially before the full moon.

The darkness of the bedroom enveloped you like a warm cocoon. You quietly exhaled in your sleep, pulling the blanket tighter over yourself. Because of your rounded belly, sleeping anywhere other than on your back or side was simply impossible. Remus had not closed his eyes that night. He had been lying awake for about two hours. His body ached from fatigue, his leaden head drooped toward the feather pillow. Remus sighed hoarsely, his rough lips tenderly leaving a kiss on the crown of your head, cheek, shoulder. His hands, covered with a bandage, gently stroked your belly. The weight of the child inside you made Remus get goosebumps. The sweetness of anticipation when a small child should finally be born mixed with the fear of responsibility, leaving a bittersweet taste on his tongue. Remus squinted, burying his face in the neck of his beloved.  She smells of lavender, milk, and something else that Remus can’t quite place. Perhaps this is the specific smell of pregnancy. He ponders, then kisses the soft skin again, pressing it as close as possible, as if she could escape from him. Sleepiness falls on him like a soft lump, but Remus doesn’t allow himself to relax completely. He listens attentively to her every breath, to every contraction of her heart.

Slender fingers gently bury themselves in honey-colored hair. You turn your head towards your husband with difficulty, blinking sleepily. The shaky veil of sleep still fetters your mind, but nevertheless you smile tenderly.

- “Why aren’t you sleeping, Wolfie? Is something wrong?”

Remus shuddered, turning his head towards you. He gently cupped your cheeks in his hands, gently stroking them.

— “No, no, nothing. Everything is fine, sweetheart. Did I wake you?”

You shake your head, slightly raising yourself to be more comfortable.

— "No, you didn't wake me. Everything is fine."

You gently stroke Remus' head, kissing his rough cheek.

— "Why aren't you sleeping?"

Remus sighs heavily, pressing his forehead to yours. He feels a little ashamed of his anxiety, because he should be your support, your confidence. Even though Remus doesn't answer, you understand everything at first glance. Smiling softly, you put your hands on Remus's shoulders.

— "I know, Wolfie. You're worried again, aren't you? Come here."

Remus leans into the touch without thinking, softly moaning. Your hands always instill calm, a sense of security and trust in his heart. He wants to curl up, completely dissolve in her arms filled with warmth.

— "Sorry"

— "Nothing. Sleep, my silly Wolfie. You need strength"

Soft lips touch the place where, according to legend, a person's third eye is hidden. The wind outside the window sings a lullaby as two souls fall asleep.

ps: i don't really like the result, but let's accept it. sorry for any mistakes.