#he's just genuinely a good guy and I love that for him

[its-avalon-08]

Hiiii ! I don’t know if you’re taking requests or not but I had an idea for a Lando x reader imagine where they’ve been dating for a little bit (it’s still very new) and then one of his ex’s comes back into his life (platonically) and he completely forgets about the reader until someone comments about his getting back with his ex and he realises how much he’s neglected reader. So he has to make it up her.

Angst to fluff please

see me again (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, tears, comfort, neglect (GUYS WHY SO MUCH ANGST WHO HURT YOU)

Lando and Y/N’s relationship was still wrapped in the charm of newness. Six months in, everything felt fresh and exciting—every touch, every shared secret, and every stolen moment was etched with the novelty of love.

The mornings were Y/N’s favorite, especially when she woke up before him. She’d sit by the large windows of his Monaco apartment, sipping her coffee as the sunlight played across the harbor. Lando would shuffle out, hair tousled, mumbling something unintelligible about coffee before wrapping his arms around her from behind.

“You’re up early,” he murmured, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“I wanted to watch the sunrise,” she replied, smiling as he pressed a kiss to her neck.

“I’m way more interesting than a sunrise.”

“Debatable.”

He feigned offense, but the way his lips curved into a smile gave him away. These quiet moments were theirs—a world apart from the public eye and the roar of engines.

It was during one of these serene mornings when his phone buzzed on the counter, the name Sophia lighting up the screen.

“Who’s that?” Y/N asked casually, sipping her coffee.

Lando glanced at his phone and grinned. “Oh, Sophia. My ex. She’s back in Monaco.”

Y/N’s stomach tightened, but she kept her expression neutral. “Oh, that’s nice. Are you two still in touch?”

“Not really. We parted on good terms, though. She just wanted to catch up.”

Catch up. The phrase hung in the air like an unspoken question.

“That’s... nice,” Y/N replied, her tone light but forced.

“It’ll be fine,” Lando reassured her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We’re just friends now.”

At first, Y/N convinced herself it wasn’t a big deal. Lando was an open book, and he’d never given her a reason to doubt him. But over the next few weeks, Sophia’s presence loomed larger in their lives than Y/N had anticipated.

“Hey, love, can we raincheck tonight? Sophia wants to grab dinner, and I haven’t seen her in forever,” Lando said one evening, his tone casual, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Y/N’s stomach sank. “Yeah, sure. No problem,” she replied, masking her disappointment.

But it didn’t stop there. Plans were canceled or cut short. Lando would come home later and later, distracted and tired. The easy laughter they used to share was replaced with curt conversations, and Y/N felt like an afterthought in his life.

The final straw came when she arrived at the paddock one weekend, hoping to surprise him, only to find him deep in conversation with Sophia by his car. They looked so comfortable together, laughing and reminiscing, that Y/N felt like an outsider looking in.

“Y/N!” Lando called when he spotted her. “Come meet Sophia.”

She forced a polite smile, shaking Sophia’s hand. The woman was beautiful and warm, everything Y/N wasn’t sure she could compete with.

“It’s so nice to meet you. Lando talks about you all the time,” Sophia said, her smile genuine.

“Likewise,” Y/N replied, her voice tight.

----

The invitation had been on their fridge for weeks: a prestigious event honoring young researchers. Y/N had worked tirelessly on a groundbreaking discovery, and the award was a testament to her dedication. Lando had promised to be there.

That night, Y/N stood in front of her mirror, adjusting her dress nervously. She had picked a navy-blue gown that Lando had once said brought out her eyes. She sent him a quick text as she slipped on her heels.

Y/N: Heading out now. Can’t wait to see you there.

But as she arrived at the venue and scanned the crowd, he was nowhere to be found. She sat at the table reserved for her friends and family, her phone buzzing in her clutch.

Lando: Sophia’s car broke down, and I had to help her out. I’ll come as soon as I can.

The evening passed in a blur. Y/N walked on stage to accept her award, smiling for the cameras, but the empty seat next to her screamed louder than anything else.

When she got home, her trophy in hand, Lando was already asleep on the couch.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled when she woke him up. “Sophia was stranded, and I couldn’t leave her.”

Y/N just nodded, swallowing her words. What was the point of saying them if he wasn’t listening?

---

Their Friday date nights had been a sacred tradition from the very beginning. It was their way of carving out time amidst their busy schedules. Y/N had planned something special—dinner at the restaurant where they had their first date, followed by dessert at their favorite ice cream shop.

She waited at the table, checking her phone every few minutes.

Y/N: Are you on your way?

No reply.

Thirty minutes turned into an hour, and the once-cozy restaurant felt suffocating. Y/N paid for her untouched meal and walked out, her heels clicking against the pavement as she headed home.

When she entered the apartment, Lando was sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone.

“Hey,” he said casually. “Sorry, I lost track of time. Sophia and I were talking, and—”

“You forgot,” Y/N interrupted, her voice sharper than she intended.

“I said I’m sorry,” Lando replied, frowning. “You could’ve called.”

“I shouldn’t have to,” she shot back, her frustration boiling over. “I planned this night for us, Lando. Not for me to sit alone while you spend the evening with her.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t mean to,” Y/N repeated bitterly. “That’s the problem.”

---

Y/N had been looking forward to their weekend getaway for weeks. It wasn’t anything extravagant—just a quiet trip to the countryside, away from the noise of Monaco and the demands of Lando’s career.

She packed their bags and waited by the door, excitement bubbling in her chest. But an hour before they were supposed to leave, Lando called.

“I can’t make it, love,” he said apologetically. “Sophia’s moving, and she needs help with her furniture. Raincheck?”

Raincheck. The word felt like a slap.

“Sure,” Y/N replied, her voice flat.

The weekend passed in solitude, and the bags she had packed remained untouched by the door.

Each instance chipped away at Y/N’s patience and self-worth. By the time she confided in Alexandra and Charles, she wasn’t just frustrated—she was heartbroken.

The facade cracked later that week when Y/N confided in Alexandra and Charles during a quiet dinner at their place.

“I don’t even know who I’m dating anymore,” she admitted, tears streaming down her face.

Alexandra wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. “Y/N, you need to tell him how you feel. He can’t fix what he doesn’t know.”

Y/N shook her head. “He doesn’t even see it, Alex. I feel invisible. Like I’m just... here while he’s off with her. And the worst part? I don’t even think he realizes what he’s doing.”

Charles, who had been silent, finally spoke. “That’s not fair to you. You deserve better.”

“I don’t even know if he loves me anymore,” Y/N whispered, her voice breaking.

Alexandra hugged her tightly, while Charles looked at her with quiet determination. “Then he needs to figure it out,” he said firmly. “But not at the cost of your happiness.”

Y/N nodded, her heart heavy as she realized she couldn’t keep going like this. Something had to change—because the person she had fallen in love with felt further away than ever.

time skip--

Chapter 2: Cracks Become Chasms

Lando stood near the McLaren motorhome, signing autographs and laughing with fans. It was a typical morning at the paddock, but the air felt heavier today. The whispers had started earlier, and by the time a journalist approached him for a quick interview, the weight of the rumors was impossible to ignore.

“So, Lando,” the journalist began with a smirk, “there’s been a lot of buzz about you and Sophia lately. Fans are wondering—is there something going on? A reconciliation perhaps?”

The question hit him like a brick.

“Uh, no,” he stammered, forcing a chuckle. “We’re just friends.”

The journalist raised an eyebrow. “It’s just, we haven’t seen much of Y/N lately, and you and Sophia seem to be spending a lot of time together. People are starting to talk.”

Lando felt the color drain from his face. “Y/N and I are fine,” he said quickly, brushing off the comment. But doubt began to creep in.

As he walked back toward the garage, he spotted Alexandra striding toward him, her expression thunderous. Her heels clicked sharply against the pavement, each step radiating fury.

“Alex, hey—”

“Don’t Alex me,” she snapped, her voice louder than he’d ever heard. “What the hell is wrong with you, Lando?”

“Wait, what?” Lando blinked, taken aback.

“You’ve been an absolute idiot, that’s what!” Alexandra’s voice rose, catching the attention of several passersby. “Do you even realize what you’ve done to Y/N? She’s been breaking her heart over you, and you’re too busy playing hero for Sophia to notice!”

“Alexandra—”

“No!” she interrupted, pointing a finger at his chest. “Do you know where Y/N was last night? Crying her eyes out because she doesn’t know if the person she fell in love with even exists anymore!”

Lando stepped back, his mouth opening and closing, but no words came out.

“You’ve been canceling on her, forgetting her, neglecting her! And for what? To be Sophia’s knight in shining armor? She’s your past, Lando. Y/N is your present! Or is she not anymore?”

“Alexandra, enough,” Charles murmured, stepping in. He gently pulled her back, his hands on her shoulders as he whispered something in French, his voice soft and soothing.

“Don’t defend him,” she snapped at Charles, though her tone softened slightly at his touch.

“I’m not defending him,” Charles replied, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to Alexandra’s rage. “But you’re scaring him, and I’d rather he listens than shuts down.”

Alexandra huffed but stepped back, crossing her arms as her eyes burned holes into Lando. “If you care about her at all, Lando, you’d better fix this. Because if you don’t, you’re going to lose the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

The words echoed in Lando’s ears as he retreated to the privacy of his driver’s room. He sat on the edge of the couch, his head in his hands.

Was it really that bad?

He grabbed his phone and opened social media, his heart sinking as he scrolled through countless comments.

@fan1: “Is Lando back with Sophia? Poor Y/N hasn’t been seen in ages.” @fan2: “Sophia again? Guess Y/N deserved better anyway.” @fan3: “Y/N’s been posting about her work, and Lando hasn’t even acknowledged her award. But sure, let’s talk about Sophia’s car breaking down.” @fan4: “Why does it feel like Y/N is just an afterthought to him now? I miss when they seemed so happy.”

His breath caught as he stumbled upon a photo of Y/N at her award show, standing on stage with her trophy. Her smile was radiant, but something about her eyes looked off—distant, hollow.

Lando scrolled further, finding more pictures of her. There was one she’d posted of their planned getaway, the caption reading, “Maybe next time.” It had been liked thousands of times, but the comments told a different story.

@fan5: “It’s sad seeing her try so hard when Lando doesn’t even show up.” @fan6: “He doesn’t deserve her if this is how he treats her.” @fan7: “Sophia’s great, but Y/N is the one who stood by him. What is he doing?”

Each comment was a stab to his chest, and Lando realized with horror that everyone had noticed his neglect—everyone but him.

He leaned back, staring at the ceiling as guilt clawed at him. How had he been so blind? Y/N had been giving him everything, and he had taken it all for granted. Alexandra’s words echoed in his mind: She’s been breaking her heart over you.

Lando’s chest tightened as his thumb hovered over Y/N’s contact. He didn’t even know what to say. Would an apology even be enough?

time skip --

Chapter 3: Silent Realizations

The apartment was eerily quiet when Lando stepped through the door. He set his keys down carefully, as though afraid any sound might shatter the fragile air of tension. He glanced at the clock—it was late, far later than he’d intended to come home.

The smell of food lingered faintly in the air, but the dishes were already washed and stacked neatly. A plate of leftovers sat covered on the counter, untouched. He frowned, guilt gnawing at him. She hadn’t waited for him for dinner.

The living room lights were dimmed, and his heart clenched when he saw Y/N curled up on the couch, a blanket pulled halfway over her. She wasn’t asleep—her eyes were on the TV, but the blank look on her face told him she wasn’t really watching.

“Y/N,” he called softly, his voice breaking the stillness.

She glanced at him briefly, her expression unreadable, before returning her gaze to the screen.

“Hey,” he tried again, stepping closer.

“Hey,” she replied, her tone distant, polite.

It broke him.

Lando stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do, before his feet carried him to her. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to explain or defend himself. Instead, he sank onto the couch beside her and wrapped his arms around her tightly, pulling her into his chest.

Y/N froze at first, her body stiff against his. She didn’t hug him back, didn’t move, didn’t even speak.

“Please,” Lando whispered into her hair, his voice cracking. He held her tighter, as if letting go would mean losing her forever.

After a moment, something in her broke. Her arms wrapped around him, clutching him like he was the last lifeline in a storm. Her shoulders shook as the first sob escaped her lips, and then the dam burst.

She cried into his chest, her tears soaking through his shirt. Her pain poured out in waves, raw and unfiltered, and Lando held her like his life depended on it.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice barely audible over her sobs. “God, Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

Her crying didn’t falter, but he kept going, the words spilling out of him in a desperate rush.

“I’ve been the worst boyfriend. I’ve neglected you, hurt you, made you feel like you don’t matter, and it’s all my fault. You’ve given me everything, Y/N, and I... I’ve been too blind to see it.”

She pulled back slightly, her tear-streaked face looking up at him, her eyes filled with anguish.

“You don’t even see me anymore, Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“I see you now,” he said, his voice fierce, his hands cupping her face. “I see you, Y/N. And I hate myself for making you feel invisible, for making you question your worth, for making you cry when all you’ve ever done is love me.”

He rested his forehead against hers, his own tears slipping free. “You’re everything to me, Y/N. You’re the reason I smile, the reason I feel grounded, the reason I believe I can be better. And I’ve taken you for granted. I’ve been so caught up in my own world that I forgot how much I need you in it.”

Her lip quivered, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I miss you,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I miss us.”

“We’ll get us back,” Lando vowed, his hands trembling as they brushed her tears away. “I swear to you, Y/N. No more excuses, no more distractions. I’m here. Fully, completely, here. And I’ll spend every day proving it to you, if you’ll let me.”

Her arms tightened around him again, her sobs subsiding into quiet hiccups. For the first time in weeks, she allowed herself to believe him.

“I just don’t want to lose you,” she murmured, her voice small.

“You won’t,” he promised, his lips brushing her forehead. “I’ll never let that happen. I love you, Y/N. I love you so much.”

They stayed like that for a long time, tangled in each other’s arms, the silence now filled with unspoken promises and fragile hope. It wouldn’t be easy, but Lando was determined to make things right—starting now.

--

The apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city outside. It had been weeks since everything had fallen apart, but in the aftermath, Lando had rebuilt their relationship brick by brick. Every day, he showed up—not just physically, but emotionally. Dinner dates, goodnight kisses, endless inside jokes—it was perfect. Y/N felt like they’d found their way back to each other, stronger than ever.

But perfection could still hide lingering fears.

Lando shot up in bed, his breathing ragged, sweat dampening his shirt. The room was dark, the faint glow of the moon casting shadows across the walls. His chest heaved as the images of his dream haunted him—Y/N’s tear-streaked face, her cold tone, and the final words that echoed in his mind like a death knell:

“I can’t do this anymore, Lando. I’m done.”

His heart twisted painfully, and he scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to shake the phantom ache. Quietly, so as not to wake her, he slipped out of bed and padded to the balcony.

The cool night air hit his skin as he stepped outside, leaning heavily on the railing. His chest was tight, his throat dry. Despite everything they’d overcome, the fear of losing her still clawed at him.

“Lando?”

Her voice was soft, laced with sleep, but it startled him. He turned to see Y/N standing in the doorway, her hair messy from sleep and his oversized hoodie draped over her frame.

“Hey,” he whispered, quickly wiping at his face.

“Why are you out here?” she asked, stepping closer. Her brows furrowed as she noticed the redness in his eyes. “Have you been crying?”

“No, I’m fine,” he lied, his voice shaky.

“Lando,” she said firmly, crossing the distance between them. She placed a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at her. “Talk to me.”

He let out a shuddering breath, his resolve crumbling under her touch. “I had a nightmare,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “You left me.”

Her face softened instantly. “Oh, Lando…”

“It felt so real,” he continued, his voice breaking. “You said you couldn’t do it anymore. That I’d hurt you too much, and you were done. I tried to stop you, but you were already gone. And when I woke up, I—” His voice cracked, and he covered his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking as silent sobs overtook him.

Y/N’s heart shattered at the sight. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. “I’m here,” she murmured, her voice steady despite the ache in her chest. “I’m right here, Lando.”

“I was so awful to you,” he choked out, his arms tightening around her. “I keep thinking about everything I did—everything I didn’t do—and I hate myself for it. What if… what if one day you realize you deserve better and leave?”

She pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, her hands cupping his face. “Lando Norris, listen to me,” she said, her tone firm but filled with love. “I’m not going anywhere. Yes, you hurt me. Yes, it was hard. But you’ve shown me every single day since then how much you care, how much I mean to you. You fought for us, and I know you’ll keep fighting.”

“I just… I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice raw.

“You won’t,” she promised, brushing her thumbs over his cheeks to wipe away his tears. “I’m here because I love you. Not the perfect version of you, not the driver everyone sees, but you. The one who makes stupid jokes, who holds me when I cry, who tries so hard to make up for his mistakes. That’s the Lando I love. And I’m not leaving him.”

Her words washed over him, soothing the storm inside. He buried his face in her shoulder, clutching her as though she might disappear if he let go.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured.

“You do,” she insisted, pulling back to press a kiss to his forehead. “You’re not perfect, Lando. Neither am I. But we’re perfect together, and that’s all that matters.”

He nodded against her shoulder, the tightness in his chest finally easing. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too,” she replied, holding him close.

They stood there for a while, wrapped in each other’s warmth under the night sky. Eventually, Y/N tugged him back inside, settling them both on the bed. She kept her arms around him, her fingers running soothingly through his hair until his breathing evened out and sleep finally claimed him.

And as he drifted off, Lando realized that as long as he had her, the nightmares didn’t stand a chance.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Ferrari's Golden Boy and his Girl || F1 driver!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: ur first appearance in the paddock with Rafe :)

Warnings: noneee

Word count: 1,936

A/n: if you couldn't tell by my pfp of Alexandra, i love her and she's who i imagine when i write these f1 fics but of course its up to you!!!!

MASTERLIST (f1 driver x fem!reader au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The world of Formula 1 was glamorous but intimidating, and you felt the weight of a thousand eyes on you. Speculations about your relationship with Rafe, Ferrari's Golden Boy, had been swirling for months, growing louder with every blurred paparazzi photo and cryptic comment he let slip in interviews.

Coming from Rafe’s hometown in the Outer Banks, you weren’t accustomed to attention from the public eye and a sea of flashing camera. Paparazzi had caught glimpses of you together over the past few months—dinners at intimate restaurants, quiet walks along the beach, stolen kisses on his yacht—but this was different.

This was your official debut as his girlfriend, stepping into the spotlight for the first time. Your heart raced, not from the adrenaline of the sport but from the nerve-wracking reality of being here, surrounded by people who lived and breathed Formula 1. You’d spent countless nights scrolling through social media, seeing how some fans could be—relentless in their opinions, cutting down a driver’s girlfriend simply because they didn’t like her.

It was tough sometimes, imagining yourself on the receiving end of that scrutiny. Would they think you were good enough for Rafe? Would they nitpick your every move, your every word, just to find flaws? The thought had kept you awake the night before, despite Rafe’s reassurances.

Rafe, walking beside you, was as confident as ever, exuding the easy charisma that had made him both a star on the track and off. His hand rested at the small of your back, guiding you through the chaos, even outside the paddock gates, with practised ease. Your hands were slightly shaky as you scanned your paddock pass, “You good?” he asked, leaning down so only you could hear.

His voice was low and steady, a stark contrast to the chaotic energy around you. You glanced up at him. “I think so,” you said softly, your voice barely audible over the noise. “Don’t think,” he said, his tone teasing but affectionate. “Just walk in there like you own the place. Because, baby, you kind of do.” He adds, kissing the side of your head.

You couldn’t help but laugh, though the nerves didn’t completely fade. Rafe had an unmatched ability to make you feel like you belonged, even when you doubted yourself. You smooth out your red dress—one he had personally insisted you wear. "You'll match the car," he'd teased, a boyish grin spreading across his face. "And I'll look like the luckiest guy in the paddock."

As you walked past the throngs of fans lined against the barriers, the buzz grew louder. Their cheers grew louder, a cacophony of voices calling out Rafe’s name—and, to your surprise, your own. Phones were raised, the flashes of cameras capturing every moment. Your heart raced, a mix of nerves and exhilaration coursing through you.

"See, they like you already," Austin, Rafe's personal trainer teased gently. His tone was lighthearted, a deliberate attempt to ease your obvious unease. He nudged your arm, grinning as you chuckled softly, trying to shake off the nerves that clung to you. Rafe, ever composed and effortlessly charming, raised his hand in a casual wave to the crowd.

You followed his lead, offering a small, tentative wave and a smile that you hoped looked more confident than you felt. Rafe checked his watch before glancing at the crowd again. “We’ve got time, don’t we?” he asked Austin, though it was more rhetorical than a genuine inquiry. Without waiting for a response, he veered toward a particularly animated group of fans near the front of the barrier.

You stayed back with Austin, watching as Rafe transitioned seamlessly into fan mode. He moved with ease, signing caps, shirts, and posters, pausing for selfies, and exchanging quick banter with his supporters. Your gaze softened as you observed him, pride swelling in your chest. He looked so at home in this chaotic environment, his bright smile and relaxed demeanor making him seem untouchable yet entirely approachable.

Then, as if he could feel your eyes on him, Rafe turned his head to look at you. A mischievous smile danced on his lips as he said something, his words lost in the roar of the crowd. “What’s he saying?” you asked Austin, tilting your head in confusion. Rafe then blew you a kiss with an exaggerated flair, his grin widening when he saw the shy smile it drew from you.

“Rafe, is that your girlfriend over there?” a girl asked as he scribbled his autograph on his photo. Her tone was curious but warm, not laced with the venom you’d feared. Rafe glanced back at you, his smile softening into something almost tender. “Yeah,” he said proudly, not missing a beat. “That’s her. She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” The fans erupted into cheers, their excitement palpable as they turned their attention to you.

You froze for a moment, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks, but Rafe’s unwavering confidence in you gave you the courage to offer another small wave. “I hope you guys love her as much as I do,” Rafe added, his tone light but sincere. After a few more photos and quick goodbyes, Rafe made his way back to you, his stride confident and purposeful. As soon as he reached you, his arm slipped naturally around your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

“What were you saying back there?” you asked, looking up at him with curiosity. Rafe didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering just enough to make your heart flutter. “Just telling them how gorgeous you are,” he replied casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You felt the blush creeping up your neck, your cheeks warm as you let out a soft, embarrassed giggle.

Rafe chuckled, clearly pleased with your reaction, and squeezed your shoulder. The paddock was a whirlwind of activity. Team members darted around, engineers shouted commands, and reporters lingered, waiting for their chance to snag an interview. Rafe navigated it effortlessly, introducing you to key people as you clung to his side, trying to take it all in.

As he prepared to leave for his pre-race routine, he turned to you, the confident façade slipping just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his vulnerability. “You’re gonna be okay?” he asked quietly, his fingers lingering at your side. You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. I’ll be fine, I'll hang out with Sofia," You say, glancing back at Sofia who was Rafe's teammate's girlfriend.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead that lingered just long enough to make your cheeks flush. “Good. Because you belong here with me, whether you believe it yet or not.” As he walked away, you felt the cameras capturing the moment, and for the first time, you didn’t feel out of place. You felt proud. Proud to be by his side, no matter how intimidating the spotlight might be.

~

"Rafe Cameron wins the Spanish Grand Prix, and it is a 1-2 finish for the Scuderia Ferrari!" The commentator's jubilant voice rang through your headphones, the words igniting an explosion of joy in the Ferrari garage. The moment the announcement registered, you and Sofia turned to each other, your faces lighting up with pure elation.

Without thinking, you both started squealing, your voices blending into the symphony of celebration around you. You grabbed her hands, jumping up and down like giddy schoolgirls, the weight of nerves and anticipation finally melting away. “They did it!” Sofia shouted, her wide grin matching yours as you both clung to each other, overwhelmed by the magnitude of the victory.

The rest of the Ferrari garage erupted into cheers, a sea of red erupting with applause, hugs, and celebratory fist pumps. Engineers and crew members were already spilling out onto the pitlane, sprinting toward the podium to catch a glimpse of their drivers and bask in the glory of the victory. You could barely hear yourself think over the noise, but it didn’t matter.

The joy was infectious, and you found yourself swept up in the chaos, laughing and cheering along with everyone else. Sofia nudged you with her elbow, her face flushed with excitement. “We’ve gotta get to the podium!” You didn’t need to be told twice. Linking arms with her, you followed the stream of Ferrari personnel down the pitlane. Your heart pounded in your chest—not from nerves this time, but from pride and exhilaration.

As you reached the podium area, the roar of the crowd hit you like a wave. Thousands of fans filled the grandstands, waving Ferrari flags and chanting Rafe’s name. The energy was electric, the entire circuit seemingly united in celebration. The team’s staff ushered you and Sofia forward, guiding you both to the front row, just behind the barriers, giving you the perfect view. And then you saw him, climbing out of his car with a triumphant smile that lit up his entire face.

He threw his arms up in victory, basking in the adoration of the crowd. Your heart raced as Rafe's eyes locked onto yours in the midst of the roaring crowd. His grin widened, that familiar spark of mischief in his gaze, and he pointed directly at you. It felt like the world slowed for just a moment—just you and him, amidst the chaos.

The cameras snapped furiously, capturing the fleeting connection between you both, and a wave of pride surged through you. Without thinking, you blew him a kiss, your smile so wide it felt like your cheeks might burst from the effort. His response was immediate. With a joyful laugh and a skip in his step, Rafe jumped down from his car, making his way toward you as if nothing else in the world mattered.

As he reached you, he pulled you into a tight embrace, lifting you off your feet for a moment, as the crowd's cheers grew louder around you. The cameras followed you both closely, documenting the raw, unfiltered joy of the moment. "You did it, baby!" you exclaimed, your voice muffled slightly by the noise around you, but the sentiment was clear.

Rafe held you close, his arms strong around your back, his helmet still on, the sweaty material of his racing suit rubbing against your skin. He laughed, a deep, satisfied sound that resonated with the energy of the victory. "Couldn’t have done it without you," he murmured, his voice low but filled with emotion. Then, with a playful grin, he lifted his visor, revealing the intensity of his eyes beneath.

You leaned up and placed a quick, soft kiss on his helmet, the action gentle and affectionate. The cameras caught the moment, and you could hear the claps and whistles of Rafe's teammates in the background. You pulled away, giggling shyly, feeling the heat rush to your face as the attention turned to you.

Rafe chuckled and pulled you close again, wrapping his arms around your waist as his team started to gather around, congratulating him, giving high-fives, and sharing the celebratory moment with the driver of the day. But even as they swarmed him, Rafe never let go of you, his hand resting possessively on your back as he basked in his well-earned victory.

[sturniolo04]

No Nut November M.S.

Bf!Matt x Gf!Fem!Reader

A/N: If you don't like the preadded name in my stories, you can either add your own name or not read it; it's up to you :)

A/n: in honor of it being November 30 we’re not gonna talk about how I’m late to the party!

dividers: @bernardsbendystraws

You and matt knew this was coming. you guys do it you every year and every year you two never get through the 30 days. Which brings you to now, November 1st.

"baby we have to make it the full 30 this year"

matt groans out to you as you are leaning on your tippy toes hugging him as he allows his palms to rest on your ass. The first not so smart move he made

"hey thats not my fault you couldnt keep it in your pants on day 26"

you retaliate as you huff out leaning your head back as matt rolls his eyes at the memory.

" okay yeah i know but seriously this year because the last thing I need is for Chris to rub it in my face that he has more self control sexually than me with Brynn"

he groans out as you giggle at his reaction.

"baby what do yu think of this outfit"

you state as you let in into the dressing room with you after putting on the outfit.

"it looks good"

matt simply states back to you admiring you as you check yourself out in the dressing room mirror. Matt had been already genuinely struggling with this whole no sex , no getting himself off even thing for the whole month, why? Simple he has a girlfriend that he cant keep his hands off of and keeping his hands off has proven to be his downfall each year.

"c'mere"

matt simply states needing something to relieve the pressure that he knew was building up. You turn to look at him as he carefully grabs your hand and pulls you over to him as you sit down on his lap, not thinking too much of it because he is your boyfriend right

"Matthewww"

you gasp quietly not trying to be too loud since you two were in the dressing room still. Looking at him giggling you ultimately feeling the problem.

"i knoww"

he groans out allowing his head to lean against the wall. of the dressing room.

"its only day 15 babe come on get up"

you giggle standing up off of his lap as he quickly places his hands over his lap.

"in a minute i have to wait for this to go away"

he groans out with his head still leaning back fluttering his eyes closed.

"how long is that going to take we are in the dressing room and we have to go home"

you ask knowing it takes him and his friend a good 20 minutes to get it together.

"i dont know it's starting to hurt"

he huffs out exhaling deeply looking up at you.

"just tuck it or something"

you giggle at yourself even having to say that sentence to him as he complies.

"Babyy go put some pants on"

you whine out realizing he must have taken his pajama pants off in the middle of the night probably getting hot to be only left in his calvin kleins. You were starting to feel on edge already which you tend to be in the morning.

"why"

matt smirks knowing exactly why as he begins to stretch to go take a shower.

"dude seriously the fuck you mean why"

you whine out.

"babe im going to take a shower so I don't need them on and I'm eventually not going to need these on either"

matt states referring to his underwear as your face flushes with a shade of pink as the mental image you just got immediately reaching for the pillow you were laying on screaming into it.

"Dude you need to handle that"

chris chuckles as matt finally makes his way out from his room only dressed in freshlove sweatpants.

"i cant"

matt huffs out looking down to see the problem area running a frustrated hand through his messy bed head from his nap.

" im fully convinced you get horny every hour of the day"

chris chuckles seeming to not have the same struggle as his older brother.

"well no shit dumb ass you and brynn like never made it to that base yet"

matt huffs crossing his arms.

"Matt Chris"

you shout coming downstairs from Nick's room running up to matt and jumping up in his arms.

"hey my love"

matt greets you as he catches you his palms landing on your ass as you were clothed in navy blue nike pro shorts and the corresponding fresh love hoodie that you swiped from him that match the sweatpants he was currently wearing.

" what are you guys talking about"

you question the pair as you rest your head on matt's shoulder.

"oh nothing just how your boyfriend gets horny every single hour of everyday"

chris laughs out as you look at matt with his check flushed with a deep shade of pink.

"shut the fuck up"

matt groans out as he leans down with you still in his arms.

"dont drop me"

you squeal out tightening your grip around his neck

“God i would never’

Matt groans out as your ass slightly rubs up against him.

“Oh my goodness Matthew”

You giggle leaning you head in the crook of his neck leaving a loving kiss on his shoulder.

“What movie are we watching love birds”

Nick asks as you all are in the living room having your normal Friday movie night.

“I have no clue we could watch back to the future or something”

Chris suggests as brynn his girlfriend sits down next to him with their designated blanket.

“That’s fine with me where is your lover”

Nick chuckles asking Matt.

“Right here I had to change into comfortable clothes”

You states sighing you walk into the common space closing the bathroom door behind you as you begin to walk over in your pajama shorts to take your spot next to your boyfriend on the couch.

“Do we need a blanket”

You ask Matt softly as he places a loving grip on you bare thigh as Nick and Chris bicker about what movie we should watch tonight. Matt secretly loves that you decided to wear your pajama shorts already feeling the sudden tightness in his plaid pajama pants from how perfect the bottoms showcase, your hips and ass.

“ baby’

You question him again when you didn’t get a response. Matt quickly shifts his gaze towards you to make eye contact snapping him out of what it looked like a moment of deep thought from what you could read from his given facial expression.

“ you Okay”

You  ask as he lets out a deep sigh. Matt, finally, giving up and beginning to act on his intrusive thoughts, stand up from the couch, grabbing you by the waist and throwing you over his shoulder with his tattooed, arms tightly gripping your thighs 

“ Matthewww where are we going”

You squeal out from the sudden action Play fully kicking your feet 

“ chris’ you win I give up “

Matt quickly rushes out as he begins to walk towards his in your shared bedroom in the house. it was safe to say that you two decided not to put yourself through the November challenge ever again 

Taglist

@mintsturniolo @wh0resstuff @emely9274 @ksturnz @spicymuffins03 @dirtylittleheart333 @stayingstromboli

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XXXII)

Chapter 32 : ‘How dense it is, how it carries inside it the memory of collapse. How difficult it is to move then’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! This is part 2 of The Party, we’re going through the same events, but from Y/N’s point of view!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3256

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Watching my friend pretend her heart isn’t breaking

On Earth, just a teaspoon of neutron star would weigh six billion tons. Six billion tons equals the collective weight of every animal on earth. Including the insects. Times three.

Six billion tons sounds impossible until I consider how it is to swallow grief – just a teaspoon and one might as well have consumed a neutron star. How dense it is, how it carries inside it the memory of collapse. How difficult it is to move then. How impossible to believe that anything could lift that weight.

There are many reasons to treat each other with great tenderness. One is the sheer miracle that we are here together on a planet surrounded by dying stars. One is that we cannot see what anyone else has swallowed.

Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

It was working, you were certain of it.

Frank was stealing glances in your direction, he wasn’t being particularly discreet about it.

George was good-looking, you had to give him credit for that. Good-looking and quite funny and charming. You genuinely laughed at one of his jokes, and he took it as permission to rest his hand on your arm. Your first thought was to push him away but you didn’t. That was the point. To make Frank jealous, so he would realise that he still wanted you. So, you let George run his fingers up your arm, his touch feathery. When you looked up, you noticed that Andrew was staring, saw him turning away in a hurry, reaching for a drink…

Samantha was with him now. Your reaction surprised you, you felt the distinctive pang of jealousy echo through your ribcage.

“How do you know our couple then?” George asked.

“I’m a friend of Frank’s,” you lied. “And you?”

“A distant cousin on Samantha’s mother’s side,” he explained with a humorous smile. “Pretty happy with the connection tonight, to be honest.”

“Yeah?”

“It means I get to talk to a very pretty woman, indeed,” he answered with a charming smile.

God, you wanted to throw up at that line… You couldn’t help but lean back, your face falling a little.

Frank was staring now, you could feel his gaze on you. When you looked past George’s shoulder, you noticed that Andrew was still talking with Samantha, his back to you. Still, you only had to wait for a couple of seconds for him to glance in your direction. You felt safer all over again, knowing he was watching over you, that he would help you get out of this mess if you needed.

You noticed that Samantha was standing closer to Andrew as well, that she touched his arm and that he let her do so.

Was your plan working? Was she trying to get closer to Andrew all over again?

How much you ached at the sight…

In a flash, you pictured Andrew kissing her, touching her, and you felt nauseous all over again. Worse than George’s intentions, the image of Andrew being with her…

You noticed that George had been talking, but you hadn’t been paying attention to his words, had no idea what he was on about. You faked interest, but when he moved closer again, you took a full step back… Andrew didn’t see you doing that, he was talking with Samantha…

You were surprised when Frank’s voice suddenly appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. And indeed, Frank was now walking towards George and you, but he didn’t seem to pay you any attention. He turned to George instead, pushing you out of the conversation. You felt invisible then, you could only stare at Frank while he ignored you so completely.

If always felt like you were heard and seen whenever you were with Andrew…

“Hi! Oh, I’m such a terrible host, I don’t think we’ve met before,” he said with a polite smile. “I’m Frank.”

“George. One of Samantha’s cousins…”

“Oh, yes! Of course! How lovely to have you, thank you for coming! And on such short notice, I know everything happened kind of quickly between Sam and I.”

You clenched your jaw at his words as you were pulled right back into the whole mess of your breakup, of his rejection, of him calling off your wedding just to announce his engagement to someone else…

All this was so fucked up… and now he was talking to this guy like you weren’t even here, like you didn’t matter, like you hadn’t been together for six years…

Your eyes drifted on their own accord beyond the two men talking before you, to reach Andrew’s tall figure on the other side of the room. Would he ever behave like this towards you? Would he ever be able to do something like that to anyone?

And what were you doing, trying to make Frank jealous? You thought about all that had happened, how Frank had shattered your heart, your self-esteem, all traces of love you had been putting in your relationship. All you took for granted in this world crumbled when he left, when he cancelled your wedding. You had spent years waiting for a proposal, had accepted to remain engaged for a year and a half because he wanted to focus on his career, when he didn’t care about yours. And then he was breaking up with you like it didn’t matter, like there was nothing in your love worth fighting for. He threw it all away for a woman he had met a few weeks before… and you were trying your best to get a man like that back?!

What the fuck were you doing?!

And Andrew was standing right over there, with his ex, that asshole you dreamt of punching in the face for how poorly she had loved him and treated him at the end of their relationship. But you weren’t better, trying to slither your way back into Frank’s heart.

Was it worth it?

Was Frank really what you wanted?

You hadn’t paid much attention to Frank and George, and their casual chit-chat. You were surprised when Frank took a step closer to George, seeming almost menacing now. He said something, but his voice was too low for you to hear him. Still, it seemed to work, as George left, without sparing you a glance.

Frank finally turned to you, a smile he thought must have been charming on his lips, but you saw the syrupy side of it; how it seemed too sweet to be savoury, too good to be true.

“You’re alright, babe?”

Babe… you thought of all the times he had called you that before, and you couldn’t help it, couldn’t refrain your want to hear it again… you had thought he would spend his life calling you that.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you nodded.

“The guy seemed to be bothering you.”

“I could handle it, but thank you.”

“No worries. You know you can always count on me.”

Could you? For what? Count on him for what? Breaking your heart?

God, it was working… you couldn’t believe it was working… Frank had come running to the rescue, he was giving you the attention you had been seeking, so why were you not falling for him all over again? Why weren’t you happy about his reaction?

You glanced over at Andrew. His cheeks were flushed, you guessed partly because of the empty glass in his hand and the way he glowered at Samantha. He seemed so angry, you had never seen him like this…

What was going on?

“Thank you for coming tonight, it means a lot,” Frank said, and you forced yourself to focus on him again.

“Of course. I said I would come to the wedding, so…”

“Yeah, but… you’ve been of great help and… I’m glad we can remain friends despite everything that happened.”

Everything that happened because of you, Frank…

“Yeah…”

You should have added something about you not caring about the past, or about caring about him anyway… but you didn’t feel like it was the truth.

“Saw that you came with Andrew, too! I’m glad you two are getting along. I take it that it’s going well at work?”

“Yeah, it’s going great,” you nodded. “Andy has been of great help when I arrived, he’s explained how all the administrative stuff worked, and helped me around the campus as well. Even if I studied there, there are many places I didn’t go to as a student, and the place is a labyrinth. And my research is going great! I’ve found an interesting article that I’ve discussed with Andy, and it’s been of great help for my own work…”

“That’s nice! Sounds great!”

It sounded like an encouragement, but he was still interrupting you. He sounded supportive and yet he wasn’t listening to you, because he didn’t care.

Andrew was right. He had been right all along…

“He seems like a nice guy, that Andrew,” Frank went on, and you narrowed your eyes at the sound of his tone. It sounded casual, but you knew to recognise a bit of mockery too, something poisonous in its undertone. “A bit boring, maybe.”

You let out a breathy, humourless chuckle.

“Boring? No, Andy’s definitely not boring. He’s a little shy, but he’s great fun once you get to know him. And he’s very smart, always has interesting things to say. And he’s just… nice. Really nice.”

Frank raised a surprised eyebrow.

“You almost make him sound like a catch.”

“He is one.”

Frank didn’t seem to like that answer, you saw how he clenched his jaw. You were surprised when he moved closer though, rested a hand on your waist. And you used to like that touch, but not right now. Right now you didn’t like it at all.

“You look beautiful tonight, by the way.”

It was working. Your stupid plan was bloody working…

From the corner of your eyes you saw that Andrew was moving away from Samantha now, until he was drinking again and making a bee-line towards the exit. He walked by you, you noticed how he extended his fingers in your direction as he passed by, but he didn’t reach out. He walked out of the venue instead.

You moved away from Frank. Andrew seemed devastated and very, very drunk…

“I’d better go,” you mumbled.

“Wait, Y/N…”

“Andy doesn’t seem well, I should check on him.”

He chuckled.

“Who are you? His mother? He probably had too much to drink, that’s all.”

But he seemed to read it in your stare that there was more to it than that. He glared, but you didn’t care.

“I’ll go check on him,” was your only answer, before walking away.

You hurried after Andrew, leaving Frank behind. You didn’t look back, didn’t check his expression, didn’t try to guess if he was jealous, or considered what he was thinking. Truth was, you spotted Andrew again, staggering across a patch of grass near the parking lot, and you were too worried about him to care about anyone else.

“Andy!”

You called after him, and he spun around, tripping over his own feet. You reached out to steady him, even if you were a little too far to help. You hurried by his side, and noticed at once that he was indeed drunk. Very drunk.

“You’re okay?” you asked while you walked closer.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” but his voice was weak, almost shy. He was clearly lying, and not doing a very good job at it.

“Are you drunk?”

It was a stupid question, it was obvious that Andrew had been drinking too much. You still asked, and perhaps it was just to hear his voice again. It was soft, and kind, and warm… soothing. Filling up the air with something safe and quiet, instead of Frank’s booming tones.

“A little bit,” he admitted, averting his eyes in a sheepish way.

“Do you want me to take you home? I didn’t drink at all tonight…”

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, opening and then closing his mouth. He stared at you, gaze intense and unwavering, and yet he seemed to see more than just you in that moment. Like he was playing a scene in his head, like he was getting lost in thought, even though his thoughts were about you.

He staggered, looked away to sit in the grass.

“I think I’m… gonna stay here for a couple of minutes,” he answered, voice distant and words slurred by too much whiskey.

He seemed sad. Sad and angry. You wanted to hug him, to wrap a blanket around him and tell him everything was going to be okay. Instead, you merely sat down by his side.

“You’re okay?” you asked again, voice gentle, caring.

He seemed to lean a little closer, but didn’t reach out, he folded his arms around his legs instead. And you hated seeing him like that, you knew what he was doing. He was shrinking, trying to disappear, trying to bend to conceal how tall he was, to hide, so that no one would notice him anymore. And you hated when he did that, because there was nothing in him worth hiding…

“Aren’t you supposed to be with Frank?” he asked, voice strained with pain, and you didn’t quite know what to do with that sound aimed at you.

Was he sad because of Samantha, or because of Frank? Perhaps both…

“You didn’t seem well,” you explained.

“I’m fine. This is your chance, it was working…”

You clenched your jaw, looked away. Andrew was right, it was working. Frank was being jealous, he was giving you the attention you had craved for… you could have used that opportunity to make him see how crazy it was for him to leave you for Samantha, and then to decide to get married after only a couple of months, to rush this wedding…

But you didn’t want to. Because Frank was never paying attention to you. This was another proof. It was all about him, and not about you. And there was Andrew, who was obviously in pain, obviously angry and sad and drunk, and… and he was still thinking about you.

You were a fucking fool, for still wanting Frank or… or rather, for convincing yourself that you still wanted him. Andrew was right, Frank was a fucking prick. And you deserved better than him.

“I’d rather stay with you for a while,” you breathed, something pained and aching in your voice.

Andrew’s gaze hardened, but you knew it wasn’t aimed at you. That his burst of anger that made his eyes darker than usual was not your doing. You took a moment to stare at him, to study his features bathed in the dim lights of the evening, a mix of orange streetlights, of silver moonlight, of white neon lights from the venue. He looked so handsome, despite his tiredness, despite his sorrow…

“I saw you talking with Samantha? What did she say?” you asked, changing subject, trying not to think of how much you wanted to run your fingers through his untamed curls, brush your fingertips across his cheekbone…

You saw him clenching his jaw and immediately regretted your question. But he seemed in so much pain, you insisted, asked again.

“What did she say?”

He shrugged. You didn’t mean to push him, but this was important. You knew he wanted to talk about it, you could read it in his eyes.

“She cheated on me with Frank.”

Your eyes grew round, you were too stunned for a moment.

The fucking bitch… she had cheated on Andrew?! What was wrong with this woman?! Was it really so hard to end things before moving on? How could she hurt him like that… God, you wanted to punch her straight in the face.

“He didn’t cheat on you,” Andrew hurried to add, and you guessed he wanted to reassure you, but the truth was, you hadn’t even thought of Frank, of the possibility of him cheating, you had to admit you didn’t care about it at all, you were too infuriated by Samantha. “It happened right after he broke up with you, but she hadn’t broken up with me yet… so technically…”

“What a fucking bitch…” you spat, and he was visibly surprised by the harshness of your words, so much so that he giggled.

“Yeah, you can say that.”

“I’m so sorry, Andy,” you breathed, reaching to rub his back.

“It’s okay. I just… I just want to forget her now.”

You nodded but looked away. You should be doing the same. Especially after tonight… but a part of you still wanted this life you had built for yourself. You realised then that you didn’t even want Frank, you wanted the life he had taken from you. You were not ready to grieve that part yet…

Why couldn’t you just… move on?

“So… I’m losing my partner in crime?” you joked, but there was something strained in your voice.

“I’ll still help you with Frank, that’s alright. If… if that’s what makes you happy…”

What would make you happy… You didn’t know what could make you happy now. You were too lost for that. Your past was haunting you too much for you to yield in your impulsive thought now, the one that could make you feel something. So, you just stared at Andrew’s lips for a moment, caught in a stillness you couldn’t free yourself from. You leaned closer, rested your head on his shoulder. He didn’t move away, let you rest your weight on him, like an anchor, something you could rely on. Better yet, he reached out, extended his arm until you were wrapped into his embrace, and he pulled you closer, gently, like he was afraid you would pull away if he let on how much he wanted to have you close. He didn’t seem to know how much you wanted him to hold you. And for a while, you bathed into his warmth, into the feeling of his hand on your arm, into his scent, into the soothing rhythm of his breathing. You felt so safe in his arms, sheltered, and you realised then that there had been few people with whom you could feel so safe, so free. You weren’t nervous about being vulnerable in front of him, you trusted him not to mock or dismiss your fragility. You trusted him to stay and listen, you trusted him not to hurt you. You trusted him not to leave you, not tonight, at least...

You tried to remember a time when you saw Frank this way, a safe haven. At the beginning, maybe. A little. That wasn’t fully true, though. You had always been worried that he would get bored, and leave…

“Let’s get you home, Andy,” you broke the comfortable silence that had settled around you, broke his embrace to get up. You offered him your hand and helped him up, let him lean on you while you walked to your car.

And you wanted to tell him about Frank, about how you weren’t so sure you wanted him anymore, and especially, about how you thought of him all the time. How you didn’t long to see Frank these days, but you couldn’t wait to go to work because then you would see Andrew. About how you had never been able to talk about what truly interested you with Frank, you realised that now… now that you could talk about all of it for hours with Andrew. How you wanted to hold his hand, and tug his hair behind his ear, and kiss his cheek, and kiss his lips. How you dreamt of him sometimes, which sounded crazy, but it was true. How you dreamt of him touching you, of him holding you, of him loving you. And you wanted to tell Andrew that you longed to forget about your exes, but you weren’t sure to be ready to admit the feelings you had for him, because then it would make you vulnerable in front of a man all over again, and considering how it had ended with Frank, you weren’t certain you wanted that once more…

God, you wanted him. You wanted to kiss him now, in the streetlights, even if he was drunk. But you were afraid, and so you didn’t.

[malloryrowinski]

I'm not one to bash het-partnered women/feminists, but I have an enormous issue with the "I just know how to choose a good guy" argument so let’s be real—believing you’ve found “one of the good ones” in the year of Gisèle Pelicot’s trial is a whole new level of delusional.

Frankly, I find it insulting to the countless women who have suffered at the hands of men. Do you think your ability to assess someone’s character is that much better than that of the millions—millions—of women across the globe who trusted men and were wrong? What makes you think that? Genuinely—why do you believe you’re better at this than they were? And how are you okay with implying that what those women endured was simply the result of a wrong choice they made? In your eyes, is it their fault? Was Gisèle stupid for believing, for 49 years of marriage, that her husband was a good man?

The reality is staring us all in the face, and yet so many are determined to cling to the fantasy that their man is somehow exempt from the patterns we see repeated time and time again. Love can be blinding, sure, but at what point does refusing to see the broader picture just become willful ignorance?

No one is saying your relationship is doomed or that he’s exactly like the men on trial, but it’s worth stepping back to consider how male entitlement, power dynamics, and societal conditioning might still be at play—even in your “good one.” Work on your ability to detect red flags. Work on your ability to choose yourself and walk away if you ever need to.

“But I love him!” I don’t doubt that. I’m not saying he’s a monster. I’m saying he’s a man, and men have shown us, time and time again, what they’re capable of. It’s simply unwise to ignore that reality because, for some unfounded reason, you believe you’re exempt from the fate that millions of women before you have suffered.

Love isn’t enough to override the structural truths we see every day. Stay vigilant. Stay wise.

[fear-is-truth]

the evans with a reader who is usually very stoic and/or serious laughing at something they said or did?

⋆𐙚 ₊ the evans x stoic!reader .ᐟ

ft. tate langdon ‧ kit walker ‧ kyle spencer ‧ jimmy darling ‧ james patrick march‧ kai anderson ‧ peter maximoff ‧ colin zabel

a/n: damn this is relatable. me & my resting b!tch face

⟢ 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐃𝐎𝐍.

if tate was trying to be really serious and you broke out laughing, he’d look down and rub the back of his neck, giving you a shy smile. “you’re laughing at me, aren’t you?” he’d say softly, but there’s no malice in his voice—just that gruff, bashful tone he gets when he feels a little flustered.

he’d become a more of a little shit around you, pulling pranks or insulting the other ghosts just to see if he can crack that serious expression again. he’d love the challenge and would become determined to make your laughter a regular occurrence.

completely obsessed with the sound of your laughter. he’d think about it when you’re not around, replaying the moment in his mind like a victory. you being serious and stoic most of the time would only make your laugh feel more special and rare, like a treasure he was lucky enough to uncover.

⟢ 𝐊𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑.

kit would initially be confused if you laughed at something he said seriously, especially since he’s a pretty earnest and straightforward guy. he’d give you a puzzled look, trying to figure out if you’re laughing at him or if he accidentally said something funny. but he’s not the type to get upset over it—if anything, your laughter would make him smile too, even if he’s not sure why you’re laughing.

“oh, so i’m a comedian now?” he’d joke affectionately. kit has a good sense of humour, so once he realises what’s happening, he’d be more than willing to roll with it and laugh with you.

he has an easygoing nature, so once he realises you’re not mocking him, he’d start chuckling along with you. he’d grin at the sound of your laugh, that soft, affectionate look in his brown eyes as he watches you.

⟢ pre death .ᐟ 𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑.

kyle is that guy who thrives on making people smile, especially his partner. if you’re stoic or serious by nature, it wouldn’t discourage him—in fact, it would motivate him even more. he’d see your seriousness as a puzzle to solve.

the first time he gets you to laugh, kyle’s face would light up like a christmas tree. “oh my god, was that a laugh? did i—wait—did i just make you laugh? you’re way cuter when you smile.” he’d wear that as a badge of honor for weeks

⟢ 𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆.

jimmy would take it as a personal mission to make you laugh. he’s a natural charmer and wants to bring out the light in you.

“c’mon, pretty girl’, i know you’ve got a smile hiding in there somewhere,” he’d say with that trademark wink of his, trying to coax a laugh out of you.

the first time you actually laughed at something jimmy said, he’d light up with joy. his reaction would be so genuine and full of pride that it might make you laugh even more. “there it is! i knew you had it in you!” he’d say, beaming as if he’d won the lottery. he’d tease you a little more after that, but all in good fun, because seeing you happy would mean everything to him.

⟢ 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇.

calls you his “little marble statue,” while delighting in how you manage to maintain your ice queen front.

would never mock your seriousness or make you feel bad for being stoic. “you carry yourself with such grace, my dear, but surely even a creature of your caliber deserves a moment of levity,”

when you finally did laugh or let out a small giggle, james would be positively delighted. he’d coo softly in your ear, his voice full of affection and lavish praise, “my sweet little dove, gracing me with her joy.”

⟢ cult leader .ᐟ 𝐊𝐀𝐈 𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍.

kai is a scary dude but he always manages to say the funniest shit with a straight face.

he’s used to people agreeing with him out of fear, so hearing you laugh—especially at a time when he’s worked up—would throw him off balance.

he’d feel like you weren’t taking him seriously, and that would irritate him, bruise his ego. “what the fuck is so funny?” then demand to know why you’re laughing, even if it was something he unintentionally said that just came out funny. despite his annoyance, kai secretly likes that you feel comfortable enough around him to laugh. he’d never admit it, though. on some level, he feels a bit of pride that he was able to make you laugh.

⟢ 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐗𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐅𝐅.

he wouldn’t get too frustrated if you didn’t laugh right away. he’d just keep cracking jokes, hoping that even if you didn’t show it, you at least thought some of his antics were funny. “oh, so you’re one of those people, huh? the ‘too-cool-for-laughs’ type. i get it.”

if you suddenly laughed at something he did, peter would be ridiculously ecstatic. “whoa… did i just do that? did i just make you laugh? hold on, someone get a camera this is a historic moment!”

⟢ 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐍 𝐙𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐋.

would poke fun at himself to lighten the mood. “you know, i might be a detective, but apparently, i can’t detect a sense of humour. how’s that for irony?”

if you actually laughed at something colin said, he’d be genuinely surprised and a little flustered. his ears would turn pink, and he’d look away with a bashful smile. “oh, you liked that? uh, cool, yeah. i mean, glad you found that funny,” clearly thrilled that he managed to make you laugh.

even if you laugh at something he didn’t intend to be funny, colin would secretly love it. he’d pause for a second, just to take in the sound of your sweet laughter. it would warm his heart to see you so relaxed and carefree, and that would be a bright spot in his day.

[ivy-recs]

જ⁀➴ ♡ 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

Within these gilded halls rest the tales I have adored, each a jewel among the written realms. Should any author wish their work removed, a word sent my way shall see it done with grace and reverence.

ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʟᴅᴇᴅ ʟɪʙʀᴀʀʏ ✰ 1/12/24

@pretty-little-mind33 ♡ you and james bake gingerbread cookies.

@moonstruckme ♡ first snow ♡ roommate!reader where you both slip into the roommate phase ♡ jealous!reader

@boneblushed ♡ is it chill that you’re in my head? your best friend James isn’t sure why he’s so angry about the fact that you’re going on a date with someone else.

@kquil ♡ genuine your boyfriend finally takes a role who has a romantic interest but his expression is hardly convincing; only you can get a genuine reaction from him

@amiableness ♡ kiss and make-up james ruins reader’s date and attempts to make it better.

@lupinsversion ♡ fell hard when james finds himself talking to the other marauders about reader.

@lovemenotts ♡ dirty deer where your daughters stuffed deer blanket gets dirty

@msmk11 ♡ just like all the other angry boyfriends before two idiots in love who don’t know how to handle their emotions properly- aka school dance drama

@lizard-on-a-window-pane ♡ boy-friend where a girl calls you james's sister

@lupinsweater ♡ teacher!james x single mom!reader blurbs

@ellecdc ♡ thank you, McLaggen james potter x fem!reader who was apparently 'too much' for McLaggen

@astonishment ♡ you’re losing me you and james potter have a friendship like no other, with the most unbreakable bond…or so everyone thought. when you get hanahaki, you start pulling away from james and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t see, to do anything right. with your friendship being put to the ultimate test, will you find your way back to each other? or will james lose you for good? ♡ time warp 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾-𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗌, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝟨𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾? 𝖨𝗍’𝗌 𝟣𝟫𝟩𝟨. 𝖲𝗍𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗇, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇, 𝖺𝗇𝗑𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗂𝖿 𝖣𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾𝖽𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗀𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗈𝗒. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗍 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈…𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍? ♡ why did she say yes? Y𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖩𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺 𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗋���𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍, 𝖺 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉. 𝖲𝗈 𝗐𝗁𝗒 𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗎𝗉𝗌𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝖺 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾?

@thatdammchickennugget ♡ one of the guys you have always been one of the guys, but what if you don't want to be anymore? ♡ want this to be real not being able to find your best friend remus, you rely on james to help you out of an uncomfortable situation.

[solxamber]

On my hands and knees sobbing throwing up combusting into dust signs my soul away to you THAT WAS SO SO SOOOOO CUTEEEEEE GUAYAYYAYYUUUUUAUAGAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! Poor Rollo thinks hes just being nice meanwhile poor yuu is so used to people digging underneath the bar that he's literally prince charming incarnate. Rollo clearly needs to adjust their standards and do what the villains could not by kissing yuu softly while they take a nap. And also threaten crowley to give them money for food. ANYWAYS!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR FEEDING ME AND THE 5 OTHER ROLLO FANS THAT SURVIVED THE FAMINE (/j) I OWE YOU MY LIFE!!!!! This message is getting so long, but you deserve to know how awesome your writing is and that I look forward to whatever you post for real. I slide over a crisp 5 maddol and ask for when you feel like it (and if you even want to ofc!!) A part 3 where maybe they're deeper in the relationship and are doing heinous things like m*king out and grimm thinks they should be executed for making him walk into this horror. (He didn't knock. Bc he's grimm. He claimed to be scarred for life until Rollo busted out the premium tuna suddenly we should get married asap) . ANYWAYS SORRY FOR THE LONG RAMBLE. IM BARKING AND CRYING AND EXPLODING AND PROPOSING TO YOU. Signed with love, rollo anon 💗💝💖

Rollo Flamme x reader

i just saw this and this almost made me cry 🫶 also sorry for the very long wait

Part 1 ; Part 2

Rollo was nothing if not diligent. Whether it was reorganizing the shelves at the library, fixing the perpetually squeaky door in Ramshackle, or chastising Grim for yet another snack-induced fire hazard, he was always helping in his quietly intense way. It wasn’t just duty—he genuinely seemed to enjoy making your life easier, which both baffled and warmed you to your core.

You, of course, did what you could to return the favor. Helping him clean up after unruly magic festival events, proofreading his endless notes about anti-magic policies, and gently reminding him to relax when he got that telltale furrow in his brow.

And you were in love.

Like, grossly in love. The kind of love where you found his huffy rants about magical irresponsibility charming and he tolerated Grim's chaos just to spend more time with you. It was a weird, wonderful balance you’d somehow managed to strike.

Which led to this particular evening: you and Rollo, tangled on the old, creaky couch in your room at Ramshackle.

It had started innocently enough. You’d been reviewing a new book he'd brought for you—something philosophical, of course, but he’d chosen it specifically because he thought you’d enjoy it. You were teasing him about his insistence on leaving a handwritten note inside the front cover (“Who even does this, Rollo? It’s adorable, but—seriously?”), and he had flushed in that way that made you want to pinch his cheeks.

Then one thing led to another.

Now, his lips were on yours, one hand cradling your face with the kind of reverence that made your heart twist. His other arm was around your waist, anchoring you against him. Rollo might not have been an experienced romantic, but he made up for it in sheer, focused intensity. When he kissed you, it felt like you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him.

“You’re—mmph—very distracting,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and tinged with amusement.

You grinned, tugging him closer. “Says the guy who started this.”

His only response was to kiss you again, deeper this time, until your brain was reduced to a pleasant, fizzy blur. The world outside the room ceased to exist. It was just you, him, and the creak of the couch as you shifted closer—

“WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY?! MY EYES! THEY’RE RUINED!”

Grim’s shrill scream shattered the moment like glass.

You froze, pulling back to see Grim standing in the doorway, paws dramatically covering his eyes. “HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? ON MY COUCH?”

“Grim, it’s my couch,” you said, face burning.

“You’re the henchhuman; it’s ours by default!” Grim wailed. “And now it’s a place of SIN!”

Rollo, to his credit, had already straightened up, his expression transitioning from flustered to composed in record time. “Grim,” he said, voice calm yet firm, “surely you’ve barged in enough times to anticipate that privacy should be respected.”

“Oh, I respected it,” Grim sniffed. “But my henchhuman clearly has no shame. And you!” He pointed an accusatory paw at Rollo. “I thought you were better than this! But no, you’re—”

Rollo, completely unbothered by the tirade, reached into his bag and produced a can of… premium tuna?

Grim’s rant ground to a halt. His ears perked up as he sniffed the air. “Wait. Is that—?”

“Indeed,” Rollo said smoothly, holding it up like a peace offering. “A gift I intended to give later, but it seems circumstances call for a different approach.”

Grim’s eyes lit up with unrestrained glee. “You know what? I’ve never doubted you for a second, Rollo!” He scurried forward, practically salivating as he swiped the can. “You’re clearly the best thing that’s ever happened to my henchhuman. You two should get married. Tomorrow. I’ll get a priest. I’m sure Crowley owes me a favor.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands as Grim popped the can open with zero regard for decorum. “Grim, you are the worst.”

“Correction: I’m the best,” Grim said, already devouring the tuna with gusto. Between bites, he added, “This guy’s a keeper. Don’t mess it up, henchhuman.”

Rollo’s lips twitched, a hint of amusement breaking through his otherwise composed demeanor. He leaned closer, whispering just loud enough for you to hear, “Shall we take his advice?”

You gave him a playful shove, laughing despite yourself. “Not helping, Rollo.”

But deep down, as Grim devoured his bribe and Rollo sat beside you with that quietly pleased look, you couldn’t deny that the idea didn’t sound all that bad.

The exhaustion of the day had finally caught up to you, and you’d collapsed onto your bed with a sigh of relief. “Wake me up for class, okay?” you mumbled to Rollo, who was sitting at your desk, meticulously organizing the scattered notes you’d left behind.

“I’ll make sure you’re on time,” he replied, his voice carrying that steady assurance you found oddly comforting.

You barely managed a hum of acknowledgment before sleep claimed you, leaving the world behind in a haze of warm, peaceful quiet.

When you stirred again, it wasn’t the sound of your alarm or the creak of the floorboards that woke you. It was something far gentler.

A warm, featherlight pressure on your forehead.

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, and the first thing you saw was Rollo leaning over you, his expression soft in a way that made your heart do an Olympic-level somersault. He was close enough that you could see the slight flush on his cheeks, though his composure never wavered.

“Good morning,” he said softly, his voice a gentle murmur. “It’s time to get ready for class.”

You blinked at him, your still-sleepy brain struggling to process what had just happened. “Did you… just kiss me awake?”

His blush deepened, but he stood his ground, meeting your gaze with quiet confidence. “You looked so peaceful. I thought it would be a more pleasant way to wake you than simply shaking your shoulder.”

Your heart melted on the spot. If there was a scale for romantic gestures, this one had just broken it.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, though your voice betrayed how utterly smitten you were.

“Perhaps,” he replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “But you didn’t seem to mind.”

You didn’t bother arguing because he was absolutely right. Instead, you reached out, tugging him down for a proper kiss this time.

When you finally pulled away, you smirked at his flustered expression. “If you keep this up, I’m going to start napping more often.”

He chuckled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “If that’s the case, I’ll have to be even more diligent about ensuring you don’t oversleep.”

You laughed, warmth blooming in your chest as you sat up and stretched. “Thanks for waking me, Rollo. Really.”

“Of course,” he said, his tone earnest as ever. “It’s the least I can do.”

The man was going to ruin you with how thoughtful he was. And as you got ready for class with a lingering smile on your face, you couldn’t help but think that waking up like this every day wouldn’t be so bad.

It started with something simple. You were both sitting in the courtyard of the chapel, enjoying a quiet moment together. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over everything, and Rollo was, as usual, the picture of composure. He was reading a book—some historical text you’d never have the patience for—but his attention drifted when he noticed you staring at the horizon, lost in thought.

“Are you cold?” he asked, setting his book aside and leaning slightly closer.

You blinked out of your reverie, shaking your head with a soft smile. “No, I’m fine.”

He studied you for a moment, then pulled his scarf from around his neck and gently draped it over your shoulders anyway. “Just in case,” he murmured.

It wasn’t anything extraordinary—just a scarf—but the gesture made your heart swell. The scarf smelled faintly of lavender, and the warmth of it felt like an extension of Rollo himself.

“Thanks, Rollo,” you said, voice soft.

He nodded, but when he saw the way your smile lingered, something shifted in his expression. His usual composed demeanor softened into something… almost reverent.

“You deserve this,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically tender.

“Huh?” You tilted your head at him, confused.

“You deserve to be cared for,” he clarified, meeting your gaze with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “You give so much of yourself to others. It’s only natural that someone should do the same for you.”

You stared at him, heart racing. “Rollo, I… That’s really sweet.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, though not at you. “It’s concerning that such basic decency stands out to you,” he muttered, almost to himself. “What kind of environment is this school fostering?”

The thought of Rollo, grimacing at the thought of NRC’s questionable population, made you burst into laughter. “I mean, you’ve met Grim, right? The standards here are subterranean.”

Rollo’s expression softened again when he saw how amused you were. “Even so,” he said, taking your hands in his with surprising gentleness, “you should never feel as though you’re asking for too much when you expect kindness or respect. It’s what you’re owed.”

Your heart did a little somersault, and you couldn’t help but giggle, ridiculously touched. “Stop, you’re going to make me cry,” you teased, though the slight quiver in your voice betrayed how close you were to actually tearing up.

He smiled faintly, leaning closer until his forehead nearly touched yours. “If you cry, I’ll simply have to dry your tears,” he said, his voice low and earnest. “Though I’d rather see you smiling.”

You let out another helpless laugh, pulling your hands free so you could lightly swat at his arm. “Stop being so romantic! I can’t handle this!”

Rollo chuckled softly, pleased with your reaction. “If it makes you happy, then I’ll consider it a worthwhile effort.”

And he meant it. He was genuinely, utterly content to see you so touched, so happy. Yet, somewhere in the back of his mind, a quiet but fierce determination grew. The villains and miscreants of NRC may not have treated you with the respect you deserved, but he would make it his mission to ensure you never doubted your worth again.

Masterlist

[amazinglyegg]

What the companions would make you if they had access to a kitchen:

Cait

I'm thinking a nice stir-fry or rice with a shit ton of vegetables and PROTEIN

Of course she loves her protein

Hmm or maybe a lasagna. Nice and dense.

Whatever she makes, there'll be enough of it to go around

She gives off food insecurity to me so I feel like she prefers to take her food and eat alone most days

But you WILL have a shitton of leftovers!

Codsworth

A nice breakfast spread like what you'd see in movies.

French toast, eggs (sunny side up or your preference if he knows it), bacon, several options of cereal in those little fancy cereal dispensers, pancakes or waffles depending on your preference, fresh fruit laid out...

And of course a glass of orange juice

He wants nothing more than for you (and anyone else you're sharing the meal with) to sit down and enjoy while he cleans the dishes and helps out

Just like old times <3

Curie

Baking time!!!!

Cookies are her go-to

Does that thing where you use your thumbprint to make a heart shape and fills it with jam

They come out perfect every time. She leaves them out on a plate and they're gone within a minute

Just be warned she might eat the cookie dough. Would definitely make edible cookie dough just to eat it raw at like 1am

Danse

He's a protein shake and plain hard boiled eggs type of guy

He wouldn't make you a meal, but would mealprep your entire week for you

(It's just plastic tupperware of boiled eggs and like, one whole carrot)

If he HAD to make an actual warm meal it'd probably look exactly like Brotherhood rations

Mashed potatos, plain crackers, and some vague meat in sauce

Deacon

This man lives like he will be killed via sniper if he ever expresses a genuine feeling

So as much as I'd like to say he'd make a meal that's really important to him, he'd probably just grab the nearest cookbook and pick a random recipe

Not even he knows what it's gonna be like until it's made

He also doesn't want to be associated with a certain meal so he'll only make it once or twice. If you want it again then YOU have to cook it!

If he's completely alone and just making something for himself, then maybe a nice sandwich or sub

I don't know why but he just gives off sandwich vibes

Dogmeat

Can't cook

He would, however, oversee the situation and taste test when needed

Gage

Grill dad

He'd make like, ribs and baked potatoes. Nice and filling and also pretty damn messy

Not too big on vegetable but he'd also grill like, corn on the cob or maybe some skewers

Chicken wings perhaps???

Maccready

Weird food combinations is this man's bread and butter (or bread and ketchup)

He WILL hand you a turkey sandwich with ketchup and potato chips in it. And it will taste good.

Or like, steak sushi. Spaghetti on pizza. Mayo dumplings?

He can make basically anything, but he just has some really weird preferences

If you can get over the strangeness it's actually pretty decent

Nick

Toast and black coffee <3

That's it

I mean like he'll make you tea or something if you don't like coffee

Pre-war Nick always had toast and coffee for breakfast in the morning so it's nostalgic to him

Old Longfellow

"Oh he'd make a fish based meal" NO. He lives next to the water he's probably SO DAMN TIRED OF FISH

Chicken noodle soup maybe, but like high quality chicken noodle soup with some nice spices

Or maybe a pot roast??

Piper

Weirdly enough, as much as she loves sweets I feel like she'd be a much better cook than a baker

She'd make a nice well rounded meal with protein, carbs, 1-2 vegetables. Gotta make sure Nat's eating well

Not huge on spices though. Like your mashed potatoes will be buttery and smooth as fuck but you're limited to like basic box gravy and maybe salt and pepper.

I feel like she can and will make an entire turky dinner. Just out of nowhere. There's like 7 different sides and an apple pie Curie made.

Preston

Oh this man will make a MEAN stew

It's his go-to. He can share it if needed, have leftovers to feed himself for multie days, and it's versatile

I'm thinking either radstag or brahmin meat, or maybe a bone stock, but in the past he's made stews out of basically anything, from bugs to deathclaw meat

He also has a soft spot for campfires and would love to roast marshmallows or cook hotdogs or something around a fire

X6-88

Grabs an apple for himself and leaves.

The Institute eats SUPPLEMENT PACKETS there is NO WAY this man knows how to cook

He's probably a picky eater too, and he only likes those packets

He's gonna be living off a diet of applesauce and ensure for a long while

Honestly he might enjoy taking his food (any food) and putting it in a blender. It fixes the sensory aspect of it.

[rekino2114]

Can I ask for a Fem!tengen uzui X OP Male Reader reader is a stay at home husband who prefers to cook and eat than fight but he is unnecessarily Strong like can one shot anyone but is a massive bottom anytime Fem!tengen is near his like a puppy wanted attention and praise from his tall muscular wife

Fem!tengen uzui with a strong but sub reader

A/n:y/n is just like me for real, tall, and muscular women make me so weak

It surprised tengen how strong you were. at first she just saw you as a really cute and adorable guy who she loved to see blush because of her. but when she saw just how powerful you really were, she fell in love with you even more. She loves strong people, so seeing that you were like that made her want to propose to you twice

But she also definitely loves how you get around her. You're genuinely the most adorable and precious man in the world to her. She wants nothing more than to wrap you in her strong arms and keep you in her embrace forever

She'll give you praise and headpats literally every time you ask for them, but especially when you do something for her, even something as simple as complementing her will get you lots of hugs headpats and sweet words she just loves how you melt from her affection

Tengen adores whenever she comes back home tired from a mission, and you're there making her dinner. She instantly hugs you from behind and kisses you softly, telling you how much she loves you ans how she wants to be with you forever

"Heyyyyyy honey I'm back"

"Welcome back tengen, how are you?"

"Amazing now that i get to see my adorable hubby"

" t-thanks, I made you dinner. Oh, and a demon tried to enter the mansion. Don't worry though, I killed him easily"

"Oh really? You know, you've been such a good husband, I think you deserve a reward~"

"H-huh?"

She starts petting your head and kissing your forehead

"This feels so good. Thank you so much"

"It's nothing, I'd do anything for you cutie~"

[merakiui]

MERA... MERA.. I JUST read the "can't leave until you have sex" Halloween trio thoughts.... and... oh wow. oh Fellow

"lie back and let his flattery work wonders on you / please don’t be difficult and please be impressed and please genuinely cum and please tell him it felt good / don’t ask to kiss / don’t say a word when he’s sloppy and salivating all over you" OUGHHHH I'M ON MY KNEES MERA THIS IS SO... OUGH....

He's so pathetic mister Honest I need you carnally right now. Badly. He's so frustratingly pathetically sexy.... I'm shaking I keep rereading that paragraph because he's so !!!

(the way you portray him Mera you big brained amazing spectacular writer. Thank you. I hope we get more of your thoughts about him...!)

>:) hehehe thank you for enjoying my portrayal in that post!!! I love Fellow a lot, so there will definitely be plenty more thoughts about him in the future. He plays a significant role as supporting cast in Halloweenie and it's my shameless excuse to practice writing him, so there is lots of Fellow to be had in that story. He's the perfect amount of smarmy wet cat that you can love and want to shake in equal measure. <3 100% "frustratingly pathetically sexy" as you wrote!

When his special move is quite literally running away when he can no longer tolerate or go against the trouble, it sealed my affections for him. He's so loserboy.... all of the Halloween trio are in their own silly ways. orz he's so shameless when he's pushing praise after praise,,, it's a little funny that he and Rollo are so outwardly fake like that. Fellow "platitudes make me wanna puke" Honest and Rollo "he treats me in such a friendly way with nary an inkling to the thoughts in my mind" Flamme,,, versus Skully who means every sweet thing he says LOL.

But in my mind he won't outright admit to his lack of experience. He'll just dress it up a bit,,, something something he learns as he goes, he's a natural, you'll see! But then he fucks like a guy who's just bought his first onahole and can't wait to use it. >_< there's a certain charm in Fellow who is more worked up than you are, who is panting like he's in heat, and pathetically rutting into you with a half-hard dick after he's cum too many times for him to seem like the sex god he hoped to show you. T_T still fucking you even though he can't cum anymore and maybe you haven't even cum yet....... the most pathetic, but he'll make an effort for you. I like to think he tries his very best to impress you with these things,,,, trying to make up for his inexperience with his silver tongue, but also he's really bad at using that tongue if it isn't to compliment you or dirty talk you. ;;;;

I have way too many thoughts about him... someone sedate me....... orz

[neferaskingdom]

♡ The Great Christmas Yard-Off | MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

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Summary: Y/n decides to join the neighborhood Christmas yard decorating contest. Somehow it ends with Max and George at war with each other.

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A/N: wanted to try my hand at a Christmas series. I plan on uploading 12 fics but we'll see. I choose to do this with George because apparently George and Max are beefing now?. Also guys please send some inspiration my way cuz deciding to make this series was a totally impulsive decision.

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Part 1 of my Most Wonderful Time of the Year series: Masterlist

The holidays had always been your favorite time of the year. The twinkling lights, the smell of gingerbread, the comforting hum of Christmas carols — it all felt like a warm embrace. And this year, you and Carmen were determined to make it even more special. You both had signed up for the neighborhood’s annual Christmas yard decorating contest. 

Max on the other hand didn’t give two shits about Christmas. He tolerated your festive spirit because you loved it, and every December, your shared home transformed into a holiday wonderland. You handled the decorations, baking, and cheesy Christmas playlists, while Max provided the occasional muscle for hanging lights and reaching the high shelves. It was a system that worked.

Until George Russell opened his big mouth.

It started at a padel game. You and Carmen were sitting nearby, swapping ideas for the neighborhood Christmas yard decorating contest while Max and George squared off on the court. You weren’t even halfway through explaining your plans when George’s ears perked up.

“We’re doing the yard decorating contest?” George said, wiping sweat off his forehead as he approached. His interest was piqued, and that was never a good sign.

“Yeah,” Carmen replied cautiously. “Why?”

George grinned, leaning casually on his racket. “This is going to be fun we’ve got this in the bag”

You and Carmen exchanged a look, bemused. “We do?” Carmen asked, crossing her arms.

George beamed. “Obviously we do! Especially since I’ll be helping”

You snorted. “What does that even mean?”

“It means that I have impeccable taste,” George said smugly.

At this, Max snorted from across the court. “It’s just inflatables and fairy lights. Relax, mate.”

George turned to him, his grin widening. “Says the guy who probably hasn’t even untangled his lights yet.”

Max froze, narrowing his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” George replied, clearly enjoying himself. “I’m just saying, you probably lack the creative vision to pull off anything more sophisticated than a blinking Rudolph.”

“Creative vision?” Max repeated incredulously

“Exactly. It’s not just about the lights or the inflatables!” George replied, puffing out his chest. “It’s about taste. Sophistication. Something you wouldn’t understand, Verstappen.”

Max just glared, his jaw tightening. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” George said, the smugness practically radiating off him.

It was at that moment you saw the shift in Max’s demeanor. What had started as a casual exchange turned into something much more dangerous: a challenge.

By the time you got home, Max was fully committed to the cause.

“Okay,” he said, pacing the living room. “What’s the strategy?”

You stared at him blankly from your spot on the couch, where you’d been happily sipping hot chocolate and scrolling through Pinterest for DIY ideas. “What strategy?”

“For the yard. To beat George,” Max replied, as if it were obvious.

“Max,” you began slowly, “this isn’t about beating anyone. It’s Christmas.”

Max stopped pacing to look at you. “It is about beating someone. George thinks he’s going to win, and I’m not letting that happen.”

“Why do you care?” you asked, genuinely baffled. “You didn’t even want to help decorate two hours ago.”

“That was before George made it personal,” Max said, grabbing his phone. “Right. I need to order lights. Big ones.”

You groaned, already sensing this was spiraling out of control.

“Max,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm. “You don’t even care about Christmas.”

“I care about not losing to George bloody Russell,” 

The first couple of days were peaceful enough. You stuck to your original plan of simple, tasteful decorations, while Carmen did the same across the street. But then George upped the ante.

“Have you seen this?” Max stormed into the kitchen, waving his phone at you.

On the screen was a picture of George’s front yard. He had installed a massive inflatable snowman wearing a Santa hat and, inexplicably, a Mercedes team jacket.

“Is that…branded merchandise?” you asked, squinting at the screen.

“Oh, it’s on,” Max growled, grabbing his coat.

“Where are you going?”

“To the hardware store.”

“What for?”

“To buy everything.”

“Max, let it go,” you said exasperated,

“Let it go? Let it go?” Max repeated, scandalized. “You don’t let things go when you’re trying to win.”

You sighed. “We’re not trying to win. We’re trying to have fun.”

Max ignored you, muttering something about needing to rent a ladder.

Across the street, Carmen was facing her own struggles.

“George,” she said firmly, “I thought we agreed this was my thing.”

George was busy attaching halos to his newly erected nativity scene. “It’s our thing, darling. A team effort.”

“You’re hogging the team effort!” Carmen snapped.

“Nonsense,” George replied, stepping back to admire his work. “Do you think the fog machine is too much?”

“Fog machine?” Carmen repeated, aghast. “Are you kidding me?”

“It adds character,” George insisted.

“It looks like a rave!”

It wasn’t long before the antics escalated.

One morning, Max woke you up at the ungodly hour of 6 a.m., shaking your shoulder. “Y/n, wake up! Emergency.”

“What?” you groaned, sitting up. “Is the house on fire?”

“No, but George sabotaged Santa!” Max exclaimed, holding his phone up to show you the security footage of the animatronic Santa in your yard. Its mechanical arm, which was supposed to wave cheerfully, was instead frozen in a position that looked suspiciously like it was flipping people off.

“Sabotaged?” you repeated, rubbing your eyes. “Max, it’s probably just broken.”

“It’s sabotage,” Max said with absolute certainty.

That morning, George’s inflatable reindeer mysteriously deflated.

“Max,” you hissed when you caught him sneaking back inside with scissors in hand. “What did you do?”

“I’m was just trimming the hedges,” he said innocently.

“With kitchen scissors? At five in the morning?”

“I just wanted to be done with it early,” he replied, giving you a cheeky grin.

George wasn’t innocent either. That evening, Max’s synchronized sleigh started playing an obnoxiously distorted version of "Jingle Bells."

“That son of a—” Max growled, storming out to fix it.

From your vantage point on the porch, you saw George leaning against his front door, sipping tea and waving smugly.

By the weekend, both yards were unrecognizable. Max had rented a cherry picker to string lights on the trees, creating a display so bright it could probably be seen from space. George retaliated by adding a life-sized nutcracker army to his yard, complete with sound effects.

You and Carmen sat together on the porch, sipping mulled wine and watching the madness unfold.

“They’re insane,” Carmen said flatly.

“Completely unhinged,” you agreed.

“Do you think we should try to stop them?”

“Not a chance,” you replied, taking a sip of your drink. “They’d probably turn on us. Just let them tire themselves out”

When judgment day arrived, the tension was palpable. Max and George stood in their respective yards, glaring at each other like two prizefighters about to enter the ring.

Then Sebastian Vettel pulled up in an electric car, stepping out with a clipboard in hand.

“What the hell is Seb doing here?” Max whispered, frowning.

You shrugged. “I have no idea”

“Why would Seb be judging a Christmas contest?”

“Why are you treating this like a world championship?” you shot back.

Across the street, George was equally confused. “Seb?” he called out, waving. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m the judge,” Seb replied simply.

“Why?” George asked.

Seb shrugged. “Why not?”

For the next hour, Sebastian walked up and down the street, inspecting each yard with an inscrutable expression. When he reached Max’s yard, he tilted his head.

“It’s...bright,” Seb said diplomatically.

“It’s also synchronized!” Max said proudly, hitting a remote to start the light show.

Seb blinked as the display erupted into a cacophony of lights and music, the animatronic Santa jerking its arm wildly.

“Interesting choice,” Seb said, jotting something down.

When he got to George’s yard, he paused at the nativity scene. The fog machine puffed dramatically, obscuring the baby Jesus.

“Very…cinematic,” Seb commented.

“It adds to the atmosphere,” George corrected with a grin.

Seb nodded slowly. “Hmm.”

Finally, he reached Nico Rosberg’s house. Honestly speaking you had kind of forgotten he was even in the competition. Nico’s yard was a chaotic mix of DIY decorations—crooked garlands, hand-painted ornaments, and a slightly lopsided tree. His two young daughters were bustling around the yard, stringing up a series of haphazardly cut-out stars and paper garlands. A few hand-painted reindeer made of cardboard were scattered across the lawn. It was the polar opposite of both Max and George’s gaudy, over-the-top displays.

“What’s this?” Seb asked, intrigued.

Nico poked his head out the door, a mug of coffee in hand. “Oh, the girls did the whole thing. It's kind of last minute cuz I forgot all about the competition.”

Seb’s face lit up. “The girls? They did this?”

“Yeah, they love this kind of stuff,” Nico said with a shrug.

Seb nodded approvingly, turning back to the yard. “It’s heartfelt and homemade. Captures the true spirit of Christmas.”

Max and George stared at him in horror as Seb marked something on his clipboard.

“I think I’ve found the winner,” Seb said. “Yup, this is the one.”

“You’re giving it to that?” Max sputtered, gesturing wildly at Nico’s yard “He’s got two cardboard reindeer! You can’t just—what?”

George stared in shock, unable to process the sight. “This... this looks like a kindergarten craft project.”

Seb turned to them with a calm smile. “Your yards look like a commercial for overconsumption. Nico’s daughters made something meaningful.”

Nico just stood there confused, while his daughters proudly adjusted the crooked garlands and DIY decorations they had made. “What?” Nico said, looking around. “Wait, we won?”

Sebastian smiled. “Yes. This yard shows the real spirit of Christmas. It’s genuine, heartfelt, and doesn’t rely on flashy lights or over-the-top theatrics.”

Max was in absolute shock. “We lost... to Nico Rosberg?” 

George looked equally scandalized. “But we put so much effort into this!”

“Effort doesn’t always mean better,” Seb said sagely.

Nico laughed nervously. “I mean, my daughters just wanted to make something fun. It’s not that great.”

Sebastian held up a trophy. “It’s perfect. And you’re the winner.”

Max flopped down on the couch next to you, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, and his face twisted in frustration. He was still sulking about losing the Christmas yard competition, and it was clear he wasn’t letting it go anytime soon.

“I can’t believe we lost to Nico Rosberg,” Max grumbled, throwing his head back dramatically. “Nico. Nico won because he brought his daughters into it. It’s like they manipulated Sebastian with their cuteness! That’s not fair.”

You bit your lip to hold back a laugh, but you could tell this was no laughing matter to Max. He was seriously upset. You scooted closer to him, putting a hand on his arm in an attempt to comfort him.

“Max, it’s just a silly contest,” you said softly. “It doesn’t really matter who won. You had the best lights and decorations, okay?”

Max let out a heavy sigh and turned to look at you, his eyes filled with exaggerated indignation. “No, it’s not okay! I worked so hard on that display. And then Nico just... has his little girls do all the work, and bam! They win! What was I supposed to do? I’m not going to bring a bunch of random kids to decorate for me!”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, nudging him playfully. “Yeah, I don’t think that would have been a good look.”

Max’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “You know... maybe I’ve figured it out. Maybe that’s what we’ve been missing. If we had a kid, they’d be adorable, and there’s no way Sebastian would resist that kind of cuteness. I’m telling you, we would definitely win next year.”

You blinked, staring at him in disbelief. “Wait... what? Max, are you seriously suggesting we have a baby just to win a Christmas decoration competition?”

Max shrugged, a sly grin creeping across his face. “Why not? If Nico can win by using his daughters, we could do the same. Imagine it: one little Verstappen decorating the yard, all wide-eyed and cute. Sebastian wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Your heart nearly stopped. “Max, no. Absolutely not. You cannot possibly think about having a child just to win a Christmas contest.”

Max didn’t pay any attention to your protests. He was already scheming, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “I’m telling you, it’s genius. We get the kid involved, and next thing you know, Sebastian’s giving us the trophy. It’s foolproof.”

You grabbed his arm, still flustered, but now more worried about where this conversation was going. “Max, no. You’re not thinking straight. You can’t just—that’s not how things work.”

Max leaned back against the couch, crossing his arms behind his head, looking far too pleased with himself. “I don’t know, Y/n, I think I’m onto something big here.”

Max grinned mischievously, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Well, if we want to win next year’s Christmas contest…” He paused, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper, “maybe it’s time we make that baby, schat.”

Before you could even respond, Max pounced on you, wrapping you in his arms and planting a playful kiss on your lips, causing you to squeak in surprise. You pushed him away lightly, laughing. “Max, you’re impossible!”

He just smirked. “Maybe. But think about it—one little Verstappen running around decorating. We’d definitely win.”

You rolled your eyes, still flustered, but couldn't stop the smile that crept onto your face at that thought. "You're ridiculous."

Max winked. "But you love me anyway."

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[spotlightlowlife]

hella decent vs hella descent

The satan character is decent.

A judge and a reasonable one at that who it seems is well respected among his peers, all the sins but sadboy showed to his court, there was plenty of room to speak and this court session was abruptly held because of one little snitch (with a good case) so we get the impression that he is a stickler for rules and justice.

No idea how powerful he is but he showed us something that this series has been lacking which is a hierarchy. A stickler for the rules but clearly had some favouritism and affection for Stolas who sits high as royalty, was Stolas spared by satan or is there a known and accepted exception to the rules when it comes to royalty? That was left open.

Stolas's punishment, if it's committed to could actually something excellent for his characters growth, the opportunity to genuinely slum it and gain empathy and appreciation for what is a lifetime to the average person.

I like how the moment Stolas lost his position the general public would turn on him, again, finally establishing that these titles stand for something.

We're definitely not missing out on sadboy Lucifer over at the hangout hotel, he truly isn't needed.

Stella can love her daughter and loathe her husband who loathed her right back. No proof that's she's the incompetent parent. Nothing hard to understand here. The Octavia scene could have made Stella look more of a villain had this all been her plan but no, her brother pulls the strings.

Still, Stella remains interesting .

I appreciate that Mammon was tediously bored, unbothered and was looking forward to taking a break to eat, like many people forced to be at meetings, this further told us that these meetings are something that must be attended like it or not.

They really laid it on thick that nobody likes this guy and were so petty about it, reminding us that he's gross, fat, glutinous, stupid, unfocused, childlike and doesn't get that those who aren't snapping at him don't like him either.

Were we supposed to find a grownup playing with toys that ranged from fidgit to toddler an annoyance or amusing, since the whole direction of this character is that he's offputting and wrong in every way possible?

Mammon had no time for Stolas's song yet Stolas would approach him briefly and knock over his building blocks, is his lack of interest in 'emotional' song and dance another reason we should be disliking him, who didn't have a song to sing in his episode where he additionally broke the mould of 'no fun'?

Why does Bee have issue with him? Wasn't she a fun, dismissive and shallow, binge eating and drinking pushing party girl when we last saw her? Couldn't these two easily be close?

What exactly is ancient Ozzie's issue with ancient Mammon outside of the past 10 years with 30 something Fizz?

Bee and Ozzie being attached at the hip and practically sharing lines is so tacky. They're reduced to cheering on Blitzø despite their few exchanges with him, exchanges which involved unresolved critique, these two are truly the worst, they got worst, Ozzie heckled Blitzø on before he got neutered, but after neutering he knows that Stolas had been lending out his grimore, Blitzø no longer has Stolas's book but now has Ozzie's crystal, so he's unser his jurisdiction now, a deal Stolas and Ozzie made behind Blitzø's back, how about talking about that? Bee on the other hand got neutered during her introduction, when she all of a sudden saw Blitzø as a huge problem that was ruining her party and killing a vibe though we saw no NPC walking out, now she's arguing that he's harmless? We don't get much of them but the brief moments we do get just dump on their credibility further but hey, what matters is they're both dating on Blitzø and co. level so they're 'nice guys'.

Two sides of the same coin is what they are. Though their opening lines were to cape for Blitzø things soon turned to Bee sex shaming Mammon, yes Queen Bee, the prince gluttony who sat cringing at Mammon's gluttonous display, makes the sex remark. I repeat, coin, two sides.

Really gives more credence to critism of fat phobia and acephobia (because asexual means nobody wants you, it's just another word for incel) that I've seen, there may be room to throw neuro divergence ignorance in there too.

[weltraum-vaquero]

Jayce nipple headcanons go!!!!!!

Ahaha ;] You don’t have to ask twice, anon. Nsfw under the cut. MDNI 18+

Keep in mind these are headcanons and not compliant with what we are shown within the show, especially visually.

They are darker than his skin tone, but a lovely pink hue is very much there under the right lighting

They are unusually big for a cis guy

Very, very soft, possibly the softest skin he has on his body. Keeps them moisturized as religiously as his face.

Has a ring of fuzz that’s a little longer than his chest hair around them, which he occasionally plucks

A given, expected, and predictable, but: They’re very sensitive.

And as much as that comes into play in lovely ways during sex, it makes his day to day life kind of a hassle

Despises a lot of textures, doesn’t do too well with tight shirts either. A nipple cover wearer on the occasion where he needs to squeeze into tighter clothes, or else he will genuinely lose it and not in a sexy way (I headcanon the same for him with clothes that cover his neck i.e. turtlenecks. He cannot stand it)

They are basically on/off buttons for his dick. Give them a flick, or a gentle little pinch through his shirt, and he’s almost guaranteed to pop a boner within seconds

Loves having them sucked on, not just because it feels extremely good, but because he’s obsessed with feeling like he’s being devoured/eaten and just with the overall psychological aspect of having someone sucking on his chest. Big fan of your mouth anywhere on him, really, but even moreso on his nipples.

Adores watching you suck on them, too. Something about the hollow of your cheeks and the way you look up at him all dreamy makes his stomach do flips. Very into the intimacy and vulnerability that comes with it, loves petting your hair and talking to you while you’re using your mouth on him. Usually babbles about how good it feels, how perfect you look like that, how much he loves you

Isn’t too fussy about how rough you get, he likes either depending on mood: from having them gently bitten to being languidly suckled on. The latter might also put him to sleep if you do it for long enough and softly enough, actually.

Has or has had piercings in a modern AU. Probably took them out because they made his day to day sensitivity issues even worse, but I know for a fact he came so hard he saw stars when they came into play during sex.

Also a big fan of manual stimulation like twirling, tugging, flicking. Doesn���t love it as much as having them sucked on, but can and will go nuts for it if you couple the two together

Speaking of going crazy, can and has come strictly because of nipple play. It takes him a while, as opposed to how quickly he usually orgasms, but if he focuses and has his tits played with for long enough, he will soil his pants about it. It’s a different sensation from his normal orgasms, more full-body than genital-focused, but the overall pleasure is also a little less intense.

If you combine sucking on/touching his nipples with playing with his cock, he will spill absurdly fast. I’m talking under five minutes. It also makes for an incredibly intense orgasm that has him heaving and leaking into your hand for a good long while afterwards

Which is also why he loves touching them himself during solo play. He chokes his chicken often, about twice a day depending on mood, and some nipple action is almost always a given, even moreso if he chooses to masturbate for release rather than indulgence

Really likes it when you call them his tits.

[gamora-borealis]

hi callie i was wondering if you had any theological thoughts about phan vs jedus, im ex-catholic and kinda agnostic-atheist but i genuinely find your perspective on religion and christianity to be refreshing :)

oh thank you it is an honor to be asked 😭💖 this got really long so my answer is under the cut:

I had to go look the story of judas up again to refresh my memory on certain details because I feel like I'm mostly familiar with the simplified sunday school version in my head (I love theology/philosophy but sometimes the nuances of all the different tellings from each gospel get mixed up or forgotten in my head lol). If you want like, in depth info on the differences in the stories or arguments among biblical historians/academics about the historicity of his story I would recommend reading the Wikipedia article about Judas because it goes in pretty good depth and gives lots of citations and quotes like actual credible scholars that I read and not crackpot evangelical "historians" who try to claim that everything that happened in the bible is somehow 100% true and try to make all the gospels fit together when they actually contradict each other lol.

but essentially the main reason people even ship jedus is because in the text judas gave jesus a special greeting kiss on the cheek in front of the romans who were looking to arrest jesus to show them which guy they were looking for (he accepted a bribe for this). like I think it's more so a modern invention to make the kiss seem homoerotic or something, which like be my guest I guess lol I love making shit gay! some gospels claim he was possessed by satan, some claim he was just in it for the money, but I think it's agreed that he regretted it afterwards and didn't actually want jesus to die and so he killed himself (or had an accident after being very distraught).

but like, if you want to get real gay, john the apostle is referred to as the disciple "that jesus loved." although I have seen it pointed out that this is a bit biased considering that line is from the gospel of john which was written down by john's followers like a hundred years later. but still, also john was the only one of the 12 disciples at Jesus's crucifixion (along with Mary Magdalene who basically was a disciple but the church has tried to cover that up because she's a woman, and his mother Mary, and some other family friends who were also named Mary lmao). so like why jesus x judas and not jesus x john?? it kinda seems like childish "hehe judas kissed him GAYYYY" over like. the actual close relationships jesus had lol.

to be fair I don't think I've ever seen jesus christ super star or any other jesus inspired musical that may or may not have contributed to this ship being popular. but at least there is probably a narrative or subtext there that leads you to want to ship them, whereas in the straight up bible I'm like. idk lol.

but real talk like. dan and phil are so very like, drawn together by the universe coded (which in the kind of non-standard theology I ascribe to, God is the universe!) and are such an uplifting entertainment duo that bring joy and hope to so many people I'm like. If God and/or Jesus had to chose, would they choose this beloved real couple or the guy who betrayed Jesus and helped get him crucified??? Like please.

(also I could write an entire treatise on why theologically god is not homophobic lol I won't get into that, but whether that includes Jesus the historical guy who existed? idk he never spoke on that - though some people think he was accepting of a roman soldier who maybe had gay relationship with a servant but that interpretation is a bit iffy - but jesus did go against a lot of gender norms at the time by being a single nomadic teacher who hung out with single women and told men to leave their families and follow him and if we think of him as theologically supposedly being at the right hand of God in heaven nowadays then they would be on the same page lol).

To get actually theological about Judas though, there are people who believe that Jesus's crucifixion was a necessary in some kind of weird sacrifice for our sins situation (academically known as penal substitutionary atonement theory) which I just don't buy into that at all lmao even though it's very popular in Christianity, especially among evangelicals. so like some people might be like "well judas had to betray in order for Jesus to die which was a good thing" but I just straight up think that's a crazy thing to accept like why did God have to violently crucify a supposed version of himself and/or son in order to forgive people of their "sins" that is such a weird convoluted way of thinking but that's what happens when people insist on believing God is all powerful and then try to justify bad things happening. Whereas I'm a fan of the movement to replace the term "omnipotent" with "amnipotent" meaning God isn't all powerful but is all loving (and there are some better translations that actually support this there is a recent book about it by Thomas Jay Oord) and be like well sometimes bad shit happens that God doesn't support but God's gonna just keep trying their best!!! so like I don't think Judas had an excuse per se but also maybe Jesus was bound to be crucified anyways not because God wanted it but because he was like, building a movement to challenge the Roman Empire even though it wasn't necessarily a violent one (more like mutual aid, dual power type stuff rather than a direct, violent revolution - which some jews at the time understandably supported although it unfortunately didn't work out for them). But this is looking back at it from modern times. At the time you could say Judas sold out Jesus to the equivalent of the CIA or FBI or something, like even if he felt bad afterwards why are we shipping them... I guess people might be like "Judas had to do it for the plot it's tragic!!!" but for what other reason are we shipping them besides the betraying kiss on the cheek that was in a different culture lol

I did see some interesting arguments in the Wikipedia article about how most historians think Judas was real but some think he could have been an antisemitic invention by Christians, there's a very big messy history of Christians, like even in the scriptures, blaming Jesus's death on the Jews in a way that is just very antisemitic and probably not true so that's another interesting aspect to this as well.

Anyways this is my perspective as someone into queer, existential, process theology/philosophy that is ultimately pretty protestant despite me being a practicing anglo-catholic episcopalian who likes saints and catholic worship and some other catholic-y things lol (episcopalians are like the bridge between protestant and catholic lol). hope this big rant made sense, I got kinda hyperfixated and haven't had addedall today and have been procrastinating eating since before I started writing this so I better go do that now 😂

[httpvomitello]

Pretty Girls Fight Like This! *⁠.⁠✧

April had brought you into the lair one night, insisting you’d be a valuable addition to the team. At first, Donnie thought you’d be like anyone else, but then he saw you.

Your bright, pastel-colored outfit caught his attention immediately, a stark contrast to the dim, industrial tones of the lair. And then there was your hair—long, flowing, and streaked with colors so vibrant it almost looked like a prism.

“Is your hair... naturally like that?” Donnie asked before he could stop himself.

You laughed, brushing a strand behind your ear. “Nope! It’s dyed. I like to stand out, you know?”

Donnie blinked, unsure how to respond. You certainly stood out, that was for sure.

He quickly learned there was more to you than your eye-catching appearance.

One of the first things that caught him off guard was your strength. During a training session, Donnie watched in stunned silence as you easily lifted a heavy training dummy and hurled it across the room.

“Impressive,” he muttered, adjusting his eyes to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

You grinned, wiping sweat from your brow. “Thanks! I’ve always been a bit on the stronger side.”

“A bit?” Donnie repeated, incredulous.

“Okay, maybe a lot,” you admitted with a wink.

Donnie didn’t say anything, but he made a mental note to measure your strength later—purely for scientific purposes, of course.

Then there was your appetite.

One evening, Donnie walked into the kitchen to grab a snack and found you sitting at the table with Mikey, the two of you demolishing an entire pizza.

“Wow,” Donnie said, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t think anyone could keep up with Mikey’s eating habits.”

You swallowed a mouthful of pizza and smiled. “What can I say? I love food!”

Mikey laughed, nudging you playfully. “Don’t worry, D. Y/N’s got a black hole for a stomach like me!”

Donnie couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head. “Of course...”

Despite your quirks—or maybe because of them—Donnie found himself intrigued by you.

Your bright clothes, your boundless energy, your unapologetic individuality... It was all so different from the calculated, methodical world he lived in.

One thing that particularly caught his attention was your socks—or, more accurately, your constant struggle to keep them from slipping. Every time you adjusted them during training, Donnie couldn’t help but notice.

“Why don’t you just get longer socks?” he asked one day, genuinely curious.

“I’ve tried,” you said with a sigh. “But they always fall down. It’s so annoying!”

That conversation stuck with him, and a few days later, Donnie found himself tinkering in his lab. He designed a pair of custom socks with reinforced elastic, ensuring they wouldn’t slip no matter how much you moved.

When he handed them to you, you were surprised.

“They're for me?” you said, holding them up.

“They’re designed to stay up during activity,” Donnie explained, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “I noticed you were struggling with yours, so I thought these might help.”

Your face lit up, and you gave him a beaming smile. “Donnie, that’s so thoughtful! Thank you!”

You hugged him tightly, catching him off guard.

“It’s nothing,” he said, trying to play it cool. But his heart was racing, and he couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his face.

Over time, Donnie found himself growing more and more attached to you.

It wasn’t just your strength or your unique style—it was the way you treated him. You didn’t just see him as “the smart one” or “the tech guy.” You saw him.

And you had a way of surprising him with small gestures, like bringing him snacks while he worked or showing genuine interest in his inventions.

One day, you handed him a small bracelet made of colorful beads.

“What’s this?” Donnie asked, examining it.

“A good luck charm,” you said with a smile. “I thought you could use it in the lab.”

Donnie stared at the bracelet, his chest tightening. It was such a simple gesture, but it meant so much to him.

“Thank you,” he said softly, slipping it onto his wrist.

Donnie wasn’t used to feeling this way—flustered, nervous, happy. But with you, it felt natural.

You were a whirlwind of color and energy in his otherwise structured world, and he found himself drawn to you in ways he didn’t fully understand.