#HOW MUCH DO PEOPLE NORMALLY SHARE FOR A 'SNIPPET'????

[songmingisthighs]

Maudit

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. xiv - demerit

cursed!jongho × reader

genre : mythology!au, smau

rating : mature; crude jokes and filthy language

wc : 1.7 k

a/n : sorry that this is a bit late, i'm having some crisis irl ✌️

buy me coffee ?

so long i've been here, so long are the stories i've written. of what i gathered and lost, loneliness becomes me and pain refuse to depart from me. i've embraced that which ate me away so when you came along, i had no part of me left to give.

You always thought that Jongho was an interesting man. Since the moment you saw him at the supermarket, struggling in the self check out counter and then struggling with using his credit card, you knew he didn't belong.

Initially, you had assumed he was probably from the countryside. Or even Amish, that's why he seemed mildly perturbed with technology. It wasn't until you saw what you initially thought was a tattoo just a teeny bit lower on his neck that you realized that he was someone who had been cursed. Having been a history major, you got severely intrigued which was why you followed him out of the supermarket and eventually wore him down to the point of getting him to employ you by simply pointing out how much he needed you to survive the modern world. Being near someone who had been around during and through historical events, often hearing snippets of how it was in the past. It was worth all of the headache of managing his estate and personal affairs. To a certain extent of course, he still wouldn't let you in too deep, especially about the reason for his curse.

So seeing him wandering about in front of your campus, trying to peek in was almost equally intriguing.

"You don't seem like you belong."

Jongho snapped his head when he heard your voice and without him realizing, his shoulders relaxed and his chest felt less heavy.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, arms crossing in front of your chest to shield you from the evening breeze which Jongho mistook as you trying to seem tough. "I came to see you," he said, shoving his hands into his pocket, as if what he said was the most normal thing he could say. You nodded slowly in acknowledgment, "I can see that. You have been asking around for me to random people? Why?"

At your question, Jongho's fingers felt slightly tingly. He had prepared to say what he wanted to say after his talk with Hongjoong and he knew he needed to, it was just rather hard, to say the least. Jongho didn't know if it was pride, shame, or a sense of ridiculousness, but any or all of it made him slightly lightheaded and so he took a seat on a nearby bench.

Seeing this, you slowly sat next to him and waited.

"I... I don't think I'm human anymore," Jongho started, idly looking anywhere but you.

"What, do you think you're a vampire or something?" you joked, causing Jongho to give you a deadpanned look before he sighed, "No, nothing like that, it's just..." he paused for a moment, thinking of a way to share his point. "I've been living far longer than humans meant to live, I've seen more things than any other person has, and trust me when I say that it was mostly bad and I can't get out of this state. Trust me, I've tried. I'm human but I live as if I'm not and it still boggles me to this day so at some point, I decided to just... Not be. I decided, that the thing that made me human was emotion and attachment and they were the things that made it hard for me to move on, go forth with the long sentence I have to endure so I let it go. I let the human side of me go and it didn't occur to me until you came along that it was wrong of me to let that happen. However long I have lived, I'm still human after all, nevermind the company I keep. So... (y/n), I'm sorry for the way I have treated you. You were so patient and so understanding with me, not to mention very helpful and yes, while I reward you with a fair wage, I did not reward your proactive kindness whatsoever so please, please come back to me so I can prove to you I'm not a complete monster and that I can make it up to you."

To say that you were surprised was an understatement. You were flabbergasted because you wouldn't expect to receive such confession from Jongho. Out of all the things you imagined, this scenario would not even make it to the brainstorming session.

You shifted in your seat before opening your mouth, "Jongho, what... What made you say this?" you asked, genuinely asking and your voice conveyed pure curiosity, no hint of mockery or suspicion which Jongho didn't fail to recognize. "Not seeing you after leaving just like that made me uneasy. I hated the thought of me subconsciously hurting you and forcing you away and even pushing you to quit working for me because I was just... A big idiot," he stated, looking away from you so he could maintain his composure and not say anything stupid to preserve his... dignity?

"So... You thought that I wasn't gonna come back and the thought was so bad that you actually come here to hunt me down even if you don't know if I was gonna be here?" you couldn't help but crack a grin at the notion. Jongho sighed exasperatedly but there was a slight redness dusting his cheeks that was conveniently hidden by the dark. "Well, it wasn't like I didn't have any plan. You kind of announced your whereabouts on social media and I just... I had to try," his voice got lower and quieter nearing the end but you caught everything perfectly thanks to the quiet surroundings. "Uhuh, but you still came out here JUST to look for me, right?" Jongho seemed to be even more embarrassed and when he turned to look at you, you had to admit that his annoyed face was adorable, like a sulking bear cub. "If you're just gonna mock me, I'm just gonna let you be and find another history enthusiast to help me survive or something. Or maybe I'll just suck it up and ask Yeosang hyung or something because believe me when I say that it took courage and preparation to come here, you hear me? I didn't even-"

You knew that Jongho rambles when he's embarrassed and he tends to not stop until someone stops him so you had to take action. You grabbed his arm which effectively stopped his rambles. "Jongho, I never planned on quitting work. I left a note on your desk to let you know that I had to take some time off because I have finals. I initially thought about sending you a text or something but after our last interaction, I was feeling petty so I decided to just leave a simple note. I swear it's there, you must've not seen it," you pointed out. Slowly, Jongho's face changed to confusion and you could almost hear the wheels in his brain turning before he answered, "B-b-but I didn't see any note, at all! I checked my desk and hell, not just my desk, I checked everywhere because Wooyoung hyung went to Seonghwa hyung's library and I had to make sure in case he-"

The look on both of your faces was priceless as the possibility dawned on you two. For a moment you both could only stare at each other before you broke into a fit of chuckles as Jongho face-palmed himself. "I'm gonna kill him," Jongho muttered to himself, dragging his hand down before he stopped grumbling to look at you. It was odd, he was usually annoyed with your antics but this time, after he bore himself to you, he realized how much he liked the sound of your laughter. Even after your laughter died down, your smile seem to make him feel lighter.

"So... You were always planning to come back?" Jongho asked, this time seemingly less... Animated. You nodded at his question, "Yeah, of course." "So... I was worried for nothing?" he mumbled, cheeks feeling warm again. Luckily for him, you giggled and shook your head immediately, "Hey, it wasn't for nothing, Jongho. Had you not worried, you wouldn't be here right? You wouldn't have made the realization, conclusion, and determination, and we wouldn't have this talk which I'm so glad for. I've always wanted to be closer to you not just because you're an interesting person, Jongho. I also wanted to do it because I don't just consider you as someone I work for, I want to be on a more personal basis, you know? So I'm super glad this happened," you grinned, giving him assurance.

Hearing your response made Jongho glad and with the same determination, he nodded to himself, "I'm glad this happened too I guess. But, I promise, once you're back, I will try to be more open with you. I can't promise anything instant, but I can promise to try. Does that... Does that sound okay?" It came as no surprise that you enthusiastically nodded but the reassurance that you were okay for him to try with you felt really nice.

Remembering reality, Jongho cleared his throat and stood up, shoving his hands into the pocket of his pants, "W-well, I should let you get back to... The inside?" he glanced at the building. Realizing that you still had to go back to studying for your test, you let out a huff but nodded and stood up, "Yeah, I guess I have to go back now." Jongho nodded and motioned for you to go in. You nodded at him and waved as you walked backward to the entrance, "Bye Jongho, thank you for coming. If you have anything to say, you can text me and I'll make sure to answer you." Jongho didn't even notice that he was smiling when he nodded at your offer, "Sounds good. Good luck on your test, (y/n), I know you'll do great," he waved.

Truly, having the talk with Jongho made you feel giddy. So as you turned and jogged back inside the study hall, you felt even more ready to tackle your test. Maybe because you wanted to do well, but maybe because you wanted to get it over with so you could go back to work. Either way, you had Jongho to thank.

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[cheshire-castle-library]

Joining Snippet Sunday!

Everyone thank @tracle0 for the brilliant idea! (And reblog their post while you're at it!!)

But it was also that 72 hours that made ignoring things I didn't want to deal with sound like a normal idea, instead of questioning whether the station was about to cave in, or - more relevantly - if I had company.

I turned down the last corridor to the "surface access lift".  Caught something in the corner of my eye, glanced half-heartedly and shrugged.  More rattling, but really what didn't in Earth Central.  The "up" button was already lit on the lift panel, which was less the gravlift it should have been, and more so an elevator system some extremely driven agents managed to "procure" the night before a local hotel demolition, sometime in the 80's.  My head slowly started questioning, through the murk of exhaustion, as the elevator made its sharp, echoing 'ding'.  The sound set my sluggish nervous system on fire, hair on end, banishing any thoughts that tried to form as the florescent light poured out of the elevator into the dark hallway, illuminating me and the flood of dust and lint in the air as I stood somewhat dumbly before it.  The dawning anxiety you get when you realize you're dreaming washed over me as I squinted into the light.  Slow thoughts percolating poorly through exhausted synapses and pseudo-cells, as I tried to either decide I'd already passed out and was dreaming, or if what I'd seen was real.

The elevator door shut without anything leaving the car, my eyes still locked on where the 4-or-so foot tall figure stood behind the door.  Was it even a figure?  A street sign?  A diamond-shaped head on a stick-like body with a single eye seated off-center of the face that managed to blink at me once before the door shut between us.

Another moment passed with me squinting at the elevator door.  "Autex, proximity bio scan."  My voice echoed back to me metallically off the deck plating of the dark, empty hallway.

["Attention: Insufficient Host Intracellular Energy."]

"Shit."

The interface voice of the Autex slurred in my head as it read off a litany of diagnostics and repairs it was initiating on my body, as my consciousness fell out of my grasps, and my body fell to the ground.  Half-thought questions about the blinking street sign, the Autex, and my impending concussion floated lazily in the dimming murk between my eyes.

"Belvedere Thurston, you are Summoned by the Triumvirate of Founders," a voice like tar and leather echoed in the hallways, and the last thing I saw, squinting through fading vision, was a "Road Work Ahead" sign with a mustache and one, off-center, eye leaning over me.

[harmonysanreads]

Thinking about Yandere!Sumeru Boys and the sweet, lovely bartender who's become the talk of Sumeru recently.

After receiving the news of the Sage's downfall and Lesser Lord Kusanali's rescue, you, who'd been out venturing Teyvat to learn about its global gastronomy and arts, decide to return to your homeland and help your father's busy Tavern. The knowledge you've gained from your travels prove to be fruitful as Lambad's Tavern reaches a new peak of popularity. Though, not everyone's point of interest is the menu — no no, in fact, many have become frequent patrons simply to get a glimpse of the new face behind the counter.

You and Kaveh click almost immediately. Your shared views on arts and beauty is one thing checked off, but the way your actually understand him? Unlike most people when they hear his story, you're not quick to put a lable on him ; instead, you make him feel heard and normal for the very first time. Listen patiently and don't throw factual advice on how to fix his life. No wonder he poured out his entire life story to you, all on his first conversation. He's left wondering where you've been all his life as you share a portion of your own struggles, views on life and snippets of your adventures. To this day, Kaveh recalls the conversation along with your benign smile and feels his heart thump as if he's become a teenager again.

Every ensuing visit to the Tavern has his belief strengthen as well : you two must be soulmates. He's even started (half) jokingly calling you one as well, which never seems to move you the way he wants though as, all you do is adorably giggle and ask him to pay for his order. Oh well, he supposes that's an indication that you do not pity him solely because of his financial status. Kaveh's life had gotten a lot better with your presence ; he no longer drinks himself to oblivion, sleeps better than before and doesn't even pay heed to his roommate's sharp comments that'd otherwise end in a massive argument, thoughts preoccupied with what kind of trinket he could bring to impress you. For a brief period, Kaveh had felt like he'd finally found his light, his reason to keep living. He'd only wish he hadn't introduced his friends to you.

You first ‘officially’ met the dusty-rock-of-a-roommate of Kaveh (his words) when you took the responsibility of dropping him to his place of residence after the architect had passed out from taking a sip of the Sneznayan Fire-Water. You weren't sure what you were expecting from Alhaitham, but a talk over books that spiralled a little too late into the night and ended with him walking you back home certainly wasn't it. You can see where Kaveh came from, The Acting Grand Sage did not have the countenance that invited friendships. You'll have to thank your profound interest in all genres of books and an equal ease to share your opinions to not be at the recipient of that attitude. It takes you a little too much time to notice that since that night, the Scribe has found himself a second home in your radar. You see him at Puspa Cafe, the Grand Bazar, the streets and after a little while, even at your father's Tavern almost frequently. So much so, that calling him something of a friend might not be as far-fetched now.

In Alhaitham's defense, he's simply intrigued, it's not everyday he meets someone who can keep up with him. It took him only a glance at you to realize you're the person who has Kaveh blushing and giggling like a madman at random times. The architect's creepy behavior aside, at least, it seemed as though some of your sense of responsibility had rubbed off on him so, less headache for Alhaitham. You're easy to talk to ; granted, you don't always have agreements but that doesn't pose as an impediment from keeping the conversation flowing. In fact, you treat him no different ; neither his status nor his prolonged disappearances that'd no doubt affect anyone else can change your easygoing persona as he approaches you, the coffee and dishes you make are rather good too and— ah. Alhaitham understands now why Kaveh is so smitten with you.

Lambad's Tavern is a prominent destination for fans of Genius Invocation TCG, you like the game, too. But because of your duty, you can only resign yourself to watching from the counter as some rejoiced in victory and others had their heads in their hands from loss. It's entertaining to a degree, frustrating to another as you have to remain silent while the players make dumb choices. You digress, whatever they do is none of your business. But if you had to pick one group that produced the most entertaining show out of this game ; it'd be the friends Kaveh brought along with him. Most of the times, they'd just be reduced to Kaveh's ranting pillows and really, only one of them—and by that you mean the General Mahamatra who seemed to truly care for the game. You're curious about him, actually. He seemed so different from the rumours that were floating around. And thanks to Kaveh's impulsive announcement that you'd be dueling Cyno one night, you had the opportunity to satiate that curiousity — and flex a win against the master of TCG altogether.

To say Cyno was flabbergasted would be the understatement of the century. He'd repeatedly demanded for a second match that time (all the while Kaveh looked like he could die of pride) but you'd shut it off with the (not really) threat of charging extra for your lost time. Since then, he'd been hot on your tail, too. Trying to coax you into a second match with every strategy he can think of : bribing, bargaining, cracking awful jokes to befriend you — his hard work paid off, but the sight of a win against you still seemed to be far. At one point, those concerns were lost as you both simply found fun in each other's presence. Cyno, in the meantime, had noticed that your amiable personality was both a blessing and a curse. Do you not see the corrupt glints in their eyes? The wanton touches and disgusting saccharine lacing their words? No can do, they do not deserve your courtesy. Do not blame him for taking matters into his own accounts or show any semblance of concern after the personnel mysteriously disappear the next day ; its just a little favor for his TCG buddy.

Out of all of them, Tighnari took you the longest to get to know properly. Given his usually passive personality in the presence of others, no wonder he'd strayed a little from your attention. The forest ranger wasn't behind in knowing you, though. In fact, it seemed as though he had been picking up on clues his other friends were missing. Tighnari had been the first to take notice of your ennui, which he had surmised to be a result of all the people you have to deal with everyday. Turns out even you have your moments. One evening as Kaveh, Cyno and Alhaitham were preoccupied with debating over who-knows-what, Tighnari took the opportunity to approach you about it. He couldn't ignore the darkening circles under your eyes or the brightness in your optics dimming any longer — he's glad he did ; in truth, your life had gotten crazier than it was back when you were traveling, you'd confessed. You no longer felt truly...alone, even in moments that you're sure is securely private. Tighnari listened intently, for once the roles being switched. He sent hand-made remedies to help with your stress, frequently wrote to you to check your well being when he couldn't visit personally, anything within his power.

He felt sympathy for your state, such a precious person like you doesn't deserve this, you should be treated better, he could treat you better — now if only you're at arms reach to the forest ranger. Alas, for now he'd have to be content with this development. Tighnari has an inkling about who is, or are, responsible for your building misery. Does he intent to do anything with that knowledge though? Yes, coaxing you to his side, preferably.

The innocent, nameless wandering boy you'd taken with you on your return to Sumeru, suddenly returned home with a glowing anemo vision in the span of a few hours one fine afternoon. Nothing really seemed out of the ordinary though, he was still as glued to your person (though nowadays he seemed to venture out more than usual), he was still the harmless boy you'd grown accustomed to. So then, why did it feel like something was amiss? Was it how often he'd find himself at the brink of an angry customer's fist? Or was it because that only occurs when you leave the counter to get something and that same customer just so happened to have been pushing you for a date beforehand? Your suspicions always end up fleeting though, you can never even raise an eyebrow at the boy, not when he looks at you with those glossy puppy eyes. In the end, it's always the other man that's handed over to the guards, it's always the others, in general at the face of your displeasure — not Wanderer, never Wanderer. If only you could see the same grin he directs at the retreating men behind your unassuming back.

You never did regret letting him trail behind your person (except maybe the bombarding allegations from your family of him being your significant other, it took one whole week to convince them otherwise, after all.) ; he was sweet and so.. clueless, as if he were but a newborn child. Your heart couldn't resist the poor thing and that's what brought you to this situation. Wanderer revels in the others' jealousy at the sight of you two's closeness (who could guess this same man had tried to take over Sumeru). He can do many of the things your other admirers can only dream of ; lean on your shoulder, fall asleep on your lap, play with your hair as you prepare a drink, whisper things in your ear with a purposefully lowered voice and get away with anything. All is well with the lost boy you'd picked up from the last turn of your travels, it's just that, you can't quite shake off the feeling of a strange familiarity everytime you look at his otherwordly eyes.

what do you call this? a love hexagon? 🤔

[ au masterlist ]

[azsazz]

Over Ice (Part 2)

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: She’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!!

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 3122

(Part 1)

_________________________________________

“When you said you got me a t-shirt,” you sigh, once again adjusting the hem of the jersey Mor provided you. Notshirt; jersey. The bottom of the Velaris Bats uniform has been trimmed—startlingly low. Or is it cut too high; you wonder with a swallowed curse. The damned thing nearly shows off your entire midriff. “I thought you meant, like, a normal fucking shirt and not whatever this is.”

Mor scoffs, shoveling a handful of popcorn into her mouth as she weaves her way through the throng of people towards your seats. Her long strides in her black heels hard to keep up with. “That is a Mor Original, and I only made it cuter,” she huffs indigently, like your discomfort is the sole inspiration behind her “designs.”

This isn’t the first time you’ve allowed Mor to pick out your outfit, but it’s definitely going to be your last, you try to remind yourself. The handful of times you’ve thought this exact thing before is laughable, and you’ve never once remembered. She’ll continue to cut the hems of shirts and alter skirts into even shorter skirts until the end of time, probably.

She’s been the crafty type since you first met her. Anything that she could add personality to was subject for a good old shot of “Mor’s Touch:” clothing, home décor, even the cocktails she mixes—which often go from something as simple as a Dirty Shirley and turning it into a cherry-passionfruit with a hint of lime drink, mixed with tonic instead of Sprite and garnished with a frilly umbrella stuck through three Maraschino cherries because “one is simply not enough.”

You agree, and you’d never admit to your eccentric roommate that it’s the most delicious drink you’ve ever had. Goes down like lemonade and has you going from a corner-stander to someone in the center of the dancefloor in two drinks flat.

You wish you had one right about now to get you through the night.

Your mind wanders to Gwyn back at the dorms, wondering what she’s going to be getting up to tonight. You don’t need to wonder, you know how your red-headed roommate prefers to spend her nights, curled up on the couch beneath a thick blanket, a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels within reach, and her laptop in her lap, creating fantasy worlds for her characters to live in some day.

A surge of pride for your roommate fills your energy tank. Sometimes people truly do find exactly what they were made for in life, and Gwyn was born to write. You’ve only read a few snippets she’s been willing to share, but you can’t fathom forming sentences the way she does, creating worlds and characters from her mind alone, seeing a vision in your mind so clear that it would be a crime not to share it with the world.

You’re not sure you’ve ever loved something that much, but Sports Medicine is pretty damn close. Psychology, is not.

You shiver as the cold of the arena hits the sliver of skin that’s exposed itself once again while you were taking a sip of your drink. Goosebumps pebble in response, coursing over the entirety of your body within seconds, causing you to shiver.

You should’ve fought Mor harder about bringing your jacket, but at least she left you sleeves, her shirt has been cut into a tank that hardly reaches the bottom of her ribs, and there’s a deep cut down the collar, creating a perfect ‘V’ that shows off her incredible tits.

You’d know, you’ve seen them before.

“Oh. My. Gosh. You two look so good,” a girl gushes, steps into you and Mor’s path, halting you from your first steps down the stairs to your seats. She’s chipper, a camera poised in her hands, the thick strap around her neck. He shiny, chestnut hair is braided into two tails, draped across her shoulders.

Behind her thin-framed glasses, her bright blue eyes sparkle with excitement as she peruses you and your roommate up and down, admiring your outfits.

“I told you,” Mor murmurs, elbowing you in the side before raising her voice to answer. “Thank you so much! I spent all day on these, and this one doesn’t appreciate my hard work at all. It’s a refreshing change of pace to hear a compliment instead of ‘Mor, don’t you think this is a little too much?’” You scrunch your nose at Mor’s terrible impression of you. Too nasally, too annoying.

The photographer laughs like it’s her full-time job, and you scowl.

Way to throw me right under that speeding bus, Mor.

“Do you mind if I take your picture for the team’s social media account? You two would make a great first slide in a carousel for school spirit,” she gets this faraway look in her eyes as if she’s picturing it now. “The interaction you’d get us,” she sighs dreamily. “I might even get promoted.”

You groan internally when Mor perks up even further. “I think I love you,” she blurts, pupils heart-shaped. “Do you want to sit with us? We have an extra ticket.” She’s bought one for Gwyn, hoping she would join in on this sporty girl’s night, but your other roommate had been adamant about her dislike of the sport, and had gotten a pass while you were dressed up like a doll and dragged out of the dorm.

The girl’s laugh is like a windchime, soothing and melodic. “I wish I could, but duty calls,” she waves her camera around in answer. “Maybe I’ll catch you at one of the after parties, though. Here, you can give me your Instagram and I’ll DM you after tagging you in the photos.”

She and Mor exchange socials and names. Feyre. It’s unique and suits her well.

After adding your own Instagram on her phone, you hand the phone back, posing with Mor. Of course, knowing your roommate as you do, it’s not just one picture that Feyre takes. They’re both beaming, and one picture turns into ten. Ten poses, nine sips of your drink because you don’t know what the hell else to do. Eight frantic smiles, seven internal sighs, and six side-eyes from passerby, trying to find their seats. Five giggles from friends, four embarrassed blushes, three warnings that you are so done with this, two people ignoring you, and one announcement overhead signaling the start of the game in a few minutes.

“So nice to meet you, Feyre,” Mor calls as you begin guiding her away. You have no clue where you’re going, but any movement closer to any empty seat is better than the photoshoot you just had in the middle of the walkway. With a parting smile at the photographer, Mor continues, like she’s all for standing there all night instead of supporting her cousin on the ice. “Message me!”

“Clingy, much?” You grunt at the poke to the arm that gets you.

“Oh, come on! It’s not like I’m going to replace you,” she scoffs with a brush of her long blonde hair over her shoulder. You swear, the guys sitting in the front row swoon. “Besides, you can never have too many friends. It’s not possible.”

You’re pretty sure it is possible to have too many friends, but you keep that thought to yourself. You suppose you have one more spot in your life for a friend, but if the pictures turn out terrible and are blasted on the Bat’s Instagram, that spot might disappear. You’re already feeling mortified enough from the public display of taking photos.

“Yeah, yeah,” is what you decide to go with. “Now, where are our seats?”

“I don’t like the look of that,” you mutter wearily, squinting to see what’s happening on the ice. You might not know anything about hockey, but you know malicious intent when you see it. It’s in the way that the Penguin’s player leans closer to the Bat’s center, nudging his shoulder as he speaks, his slimy grin growing with each jab.

The game’s been fun so far, much to your surprise. The crowd surrounding you is all for the team, chanting songs that you need to learn immediately because they’re so much fun. The music that blasts around the stadium during every break is on-point, not too old of songs and not too overplayed like at the one football game you’d been dragged to last year (also by Mor, but not because of a family member on the team, because of an entirely different member.)

“Is that my cousin?” She asks, brown eyes sharp as she examines the players. Their fronts are to you, no seeing the names painted across the back of their jerseys. You refrain from mentioning how Mor should at least know her own cousin’s number—since their written on the sleeves—but you keep that thought to yourself when her red painted nails tighten around the box of popcorn, crushing the flimsy cardboard. The strain of the muscle in her jaw matches the boy on the ice’s, you notice with a fleeing glance at your roommate.

Tension coils your gut. You find your fingers wrapping around the edge of the seat you’re perched in, gripping the bleachers so tightly that you swear you feel the cool metal warming and warping.

You’re not the only two who have noticed the shift in the moods of the players on the ice, parts of the crowd are beginning to rise from their seats, cheering growing from a low rumble to a thunder of screams, caws, and jeering.

The puck is barely a millimeter from the referee’s hand before sticks are thrown to the ice, gloves following as the two players slowly begin to circle each other. It looks like something out of an animal documentary: two predators about to snap at each other’s throats in a fight for the territory.

The anticipation of them going blow for blow lights a fire deep within your belly, your core perking up for attention.

You shouldn’t be thinking like this, shouldn’t get getting turned on by the idea of two boys about to knock each other’s teeth out. Should be thinking about your best friend’s cousin like this at all.

Shooting a guilty glance at your roommate, you breathe a soft sigh of relief that’s swallowed by the shouts of the crowd when you see that Mor hasn’t picked up on your sudden shift in mood—both mentally and physically.

All the players on the ice slide back to make room for the brawl that’s about to break out and a sick feeling bubbles in your stomach, almost overpowering the arousal as you wonder why no one is attempting to stop them.

There isn’t time to voice your concern, isn’t time to do anything except bolt to your feet with a gasp so harsh it sears your lungs when the Penguin’s player is the first to swing. Your heart is lodged in your throat, your breathing holding in your throat as you watch in anticipation. He lashes out with a curled fist so fast that by the time you blink, it’s over.

His hit doesn’t land.

There’s no time to feel the relief trying to rush through your veins because the Bat’s center is retaliating, throwing himself forward after swiftly dodging the attack. He grabs the other boy by the collar of his ice blue uniform and hauls him into his closed fist.

His opponents helmet goes flying off with the snap of his head backwards. He stumbles, but manages to stay upright, snagging a handful of the Bat’s jersey to try and steady himself.

You look to the benches flanking the ice, wondering why no one is joining the fray. It’s now that you realize it’s not that they don’t want to help their teammate who is quickly ducking away from another fist, it’s because they can’t.

There���s a boy standing nonchalantly, hazel eyes pinned on the scene before him. He looks eager almost, leaning so casually against his stick, chin propped on the edge of it like he’s watching the newest action movie from the best spot in the house.

Even the goalie seems to be unconcerned, taking the few moments he has to take a swig of water and adjust his helmet, squatting low and shooting side to side in his box, as if trying to keep limber for when the game resumes.

One of the refs is attempting to hold back a burly boy who seems much too large to be skating at all. His helmet has also been shucked off, revealing long, shoulder length wet hair that clings to his face and neck like a bee on honey. His gloves are abandoned on the ice too, and his stick has skidded to a stop upon hitting the sideboards nearby. You can’t make out the words he’s shouting, but with the feral grin you make out, you know they’re fighting words. With each bark he seems to be inching closer, like the full-grown man in the stripes trying to hold him back is nothing more than a soft breeze, and his is a twister barreling right through.

When he shakes his head, you catch sight of a bloodthirsty grin that has a shiver sliding up your spine. He’s enjoying this?

“Mor,” your worry tries to escape, only for the words to stick in your throat as more noises join the fight, loud as gunshots. Both the Bat’s and the Penguin’s players are rapping their hockey sticks against the boards separating their benches from the ice, war cries falling from their lips.

They’re all enjoying this.

“That is my cousin,” Mor screeches, her perfectly plucked brows pulled tight as she tries finally makes out the number on the back of the jersey that’s gripped so tightly in the offending players grip that you’re pretty sure the stitches are popping with the force. “Kick his fucking ass, Rhys!”

Casting a frantic look to your roommate, you realize that not even she seems to be fazed by the fact that her cousin is in the middle of a fight that could very seriously end badly, especially with the knives on the bottoms of their feet.

But, if everyone’s rooting for their player to win this battle, you can too.

As gruesome as the scene before you is, you wish you had a better seat, somewhere with a better viewpoint than all the way on the other side of the ice. You can’t to be able to hear the threats they’re growling at each other, your attention completely enraptured now that you’ve shoved your worry to the wayside.

With his newfound hold, the Penguin’s player strikes again, and this time, his hit slams across Rhys’ jaw. His head snaps to the side with the nasty hook and his helmet slips to the ice, the sound eaten up by the goading of the crowd.

They swing around, unsteady on their skates as each of the boys tries to topple the other over. You catch a glance at his face. It’s hard to see, and his shaggy black hair is splayed across his face like a spiderweb, keeping you from making out his features. You catch the blood dribbling down his chin, the anger etched in the clench of his jaw as he grits his teeth, managing to twist himself into a position where he has the upper hand on the Penguin’s player: a headlock.

Your heart thunders in your chest as you watch Rhys pound his fist into the other boy’s face once, twice, three times before his opponent’s feet fall out from under him. Rhys releases his hold, allowing the boy to slip lamely to the ice.

“Atta boy, Rhysie,” Mor shouts, once again shoveling popcorn into her mouth with a grin so bright it could melt the ice in the rink before you. She turns to you, golden brown of her eyes glowing with excitement. “Our parents would be so proud.”

She turns back to the scene before you can voice your confusion on that statement, tucking away the information that if you win a fight in hockey, it’s a great accomplishment.

You watch Rhys as he’s escorted by referees who guide him towards the penalty box. He’s examining his knuckles, not caring that he’s abandoning his equipment as he goes, grimacing as the adrenaline begins to fade. He pokes at them, frowning at whatever he feels.

You pray they’re not broken.

The rest of the players seem to be getting back to the game, like one of their teammates isn’t being casted away on an island across the ice. Okay, so it’s just another bench and he’s not that far from them, but you’re shocked that this is the end of the fight, both players carted into separate timeout boxes away from their teams.

Rhys plops down on the bench, pulling a water bottle from a hidden holder, washing the blood from his knuckles before examining them for a second time. You watch him flex his fingers, twist his wrist this way and that. You can’t seem to keep your eyes off him, even with the game picking back up and Mor shouting cheers when the Bat’s manage to steal the puck right from the drop, carting it down the ice with a speed that rivals a racecar.

He must be satisfied with his examination because Rhys is throwing his head back, and it’s almost as if he’s squirting the water from the bottle directly onto you with the way that the apex of your thigh’s wet at the sight of him. He sips the water, holding the bottle a few inches from his face, and you watch the water cascade down his chin and over his throat, bobbing with each swallow. It mixes with the blood from his split lip and slides into the collar of his gear.

You swallow harshly, suddenly parched.

When he’s had his fill of the drink, he moves the bottle further back, using the spray to wash his hair away from his face, and your breathing shallows. It’s as if the hand he’s using to squeeze the life out of the bottle is constricting around your throat, because suddenly, you recognize the sharp of that jaw, the curve of those eyebrows and the straight of his nose. All his angular features come together in the perfect picture of hotness, knocking the breath fully from your chest when he straightens his chin, looking out onto the ice to watch his teammates score the last goal of the second period.

He's the boy from this morning: the overachiever, the one who called you darling.

Mor’s cousin.

Rhysand Cunningham.

_________________________________________

Over Ice Taglist:

@saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofbatboydreams @mrsjna @velarisdusk @bionic-donut @tenshis-cake @eleganttravelercloud @lilah-asteria @serena05 @bwormie @soph1644 @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @tothestarsandwhateverend @topaz125

[hwaightme]

Cliché

(masterlist)

🥂pairing: jongho x gn!reader 🥂genre: fluff, acquaintances to lovers 🥂summary: normally, you are not one to enjoy clichés, but what can you do when the best man at your best friend's wedding is choi jongho? 🥂wordcount: 1.6k 🥂warnings/tags: unedited, reader is 'maid of honour', puns, jjong-rizz, dancing, much pining, it's giving 80s/90s romcom, flirting, lmk if anything else 🥂author's note: 'chella jjong. that's the post. thank you so much <3 any reblogs/comments appreciated!

It might be cliché. Something you had seen in films and shows many times over. You had scoffed at the pairing and labelled it as a trope tied by tradition and the general public desire for happy endings to everything - despite it rarely ever being the case. But here you were, catching yourself staring a little too long at the best man, and discovering that your heart was beating just that little bit faster, fluttering whenever he whispered one thing or another to you so as to not attract attention from other people who shared the table.

It wasn’t that you did not know Jongho, hell, you knew him very well - or at least the on-stage Jongho, the ace performer Jongho, the legendary vocalist Jongho. Having seen his achievements on the news and having heard stories about him travelling across your social circle, you were well aware of his professional capabilities. You, however, could not say much beyond that. Past common courtesies and the occasional nod in recognition, you had never shared as much as a couple of sentences with the man. Even though he was the groom’s closest friend and your best friend’s, the bride’s, recent but trustworthy acquaintance, he was a mystery to you. A mystery with an infinitely precious smile and a sense of humour that was too similar to yours to be able to hold a poker face.

It all started with a pun on an item in the set course menu for dinner. And then another. And then another, completed by yourself much to his delight. Soon enough, both of you were dissolving into a fit of giggles, sharing the jokes that others either had not quite understood or heard. It did not matter. They were not addressed to them anyways. At least not when Jongho was fully turned towards you, a glimmer in his eyes and a softness so indescribable painted across his features that you struggled to regain your composure.

You were quick to connect over the many things you had in common, and spent some time simmering in each other’s passions, enjoying the stars in one another’s eyes as you delved deeper into details. He was kind, attentive. A listener. But at the same time, no matter what topic you ventured into, even if just tentatively and temporarily, he remained just as transfixed by you as you were by him. Whenever you were worried that you had over-talked your welcome, he would encourage you to continue with a gentle question. In a rapidly descending spiral, you got addicted to his melodic laughter and how his nose would scrunch up occasionally, far too adorable to resist. 

Jongho reminded you of old classics, golden autumn sunshine and the sensation of when you get to rest after a long day in your favourite cafe, with a warming cup of the finest brew; perhaps this was because you found out you shared an appreciation for coffee with him. Be it ‘Roman Holiday’ or ‘Singing in the Rain’, Jongho retained a certain something that could not be defined by simply taking in a snippet of the present day. While you referenced recent trends and popular videos spreading online at each other, nonetheless there was something timeless about him. You wondered if this was exactly why his voice was so enchanting. The aura spread from the way he carried himself, to the way he made you feel, to the way he made you wish you did not have to look at anyone else. Dark locks that were elegantly styled to highlight him as every bit a gentleman, pretty espresso-coloured eyes that you had memorised by now, a tailor-made suit and infinite charisma that made you forget you were at somebody else’s wedding.

“I do wonder why we had never spoken before,” you mused out loud as Jongho led you to the dance floor to catch the pace slowing down to gentler, more loving tracks.

“Good things take time,” he took no time in answering, almost startling you as you caught his words.

“Ah I see, needed time for interest to build,” you teased, earning a shake of the head and a shy smile.

“Or perhaps,” he snaked his arm around your waist, and waited for you to position yourself comfortably to join in a slow dance, “to muster up the courage.”

“Hm? Pray tell,” you tilt your head, floating to the music and the sound of Jongho’s voice.

“Well I hardly think that gawking across the room is a good way to get to know someone,” you felt blush rising to your cheeks as you thought back to the times when you would study him or sneak glances at different gatherings where both of you just so happened to be - rare, but astonishingly memorable, at least the times when you could capture him in your vision and imprint him in your mind. When you looked away, just for a split second to regain your composure, you heard a soft exhale and were met with a cheeky grin, “I was referring to myself, but I am glad to know that the intrigue was mutual.”

“Hm- so, what made you want to change things up?” you swore that if he were to let go of you right this second, you would probably collapse on the floor. 

“A kind piece of advice from your friend in white. Told me that I should probably take my chances,” he tilted his head in the direction of the bride and groom before turning in time to the song.

“Wise words,” for what had to be the first time in your life, you decided to be grateful that your friend had a penchant for matchmaking.

You never quite let yourself drift in daydreams too deeply, be it out of a fear that they would turn into regular escapist paradise or out of despising the sensation of disappointment that often proceeded after entertaining even the simplest idea. But now, you could not bring yourself to avoid anything. If anything, you desperately wanted to dive in, see where the duet could take you.

One song replaced another, and you were still in his embrace, allowing yourself to enjoy the moments trickling by. Butterflies were replaced by a novel serenity, as though no matter what happened, Jongho would still be around. It made you remember something you had read about one time: the premonition of love, the feeling that in the future, you could love a person with your mind, body and soul. And, funnily enough, the realisation did not make you want to bolt in the opposite direction like it usually did. Instead, you leaned closer, and spotted the glints of that same new beginning in Jongho’s gaze.

Were you confident? No, far from it. If anything, you knew that the chances of things working out were rather disconcerting, but you did not mind trying. You could not deny the spark that was between you, nor could you ignore the realisation that this was not a spontaneous meeting of two strangers. If there was something you could choose to regret, it would be not attempting to get to know Jongho earlier; but then again, was it time lost, or a necessary pause that led you to where you were now? As the song blended into another and the two of you stepped away from the dance floor, you noticed you were still resting your hand in his. Shyly, you pulled away, your actions only to be mirrored by an equally flustered Jongho. His airy, melodic giggle made you beam; you struggled to hide it by studying the floor. It was easy to conclude that your efforts were in vain when he reached out to brush his hand over your upper arm, and carefully uttered your name. In the span of the evening, how he said it became your favourite sound.

“I’m not a fact, but I’d love it if you were to face me,” he joked, making you purse your lips in an effort to not crack so quickly.

“Jongho, come on-”

“You must be floored-” you looked up, met with a smug and mischievous grin that melted into relief and an unparalleled radiance. Oh this man and his silly puns. How you were fond of it all.

“Careful, you might just steal the show,” you gestured around you, reminding both him and yourself that you were, in fact, supposed to be celebrating somebody else. Not that you minded the attention and the way in which your heart twirled.

“Mmm, fair. Then, how about… this is our first meeting. First real meeting, I mean. We can be the main event elsewhere, if you agree to join me,” he was hopeful, gaze locked with yours. Music barely reached you, drowned out by his proposition and the steady beat of your growing feelings.

“Are you asking me out, Choi Jongho?”

“Mm, I do believe so. So, will you do me the honour and agree to go on a date with me?”

“How can I resist?”

You smiled as you felt Jongho guiding you into a spin before rejoining the dancing crowd, and happily followed. As you returned a hand to his shoulder and delicately repositioned the other to be palm to palm with his, you could not help but recollect your now archaic musings. Perhaps some clichés were more than welcome, and some things did make you wholeheartedly believe in and hope for your... and his... happy ending. 

🥂perma-taglist: @justhere4kpop @starrysvn @byuntrash101 @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @jaehunnyy @maddkitt @ren-junwrld @pyeonghongrie-main @marsstarxhwa @pocketjoong-reads @yeooclock @yeonjunnie @asjkdk @lucky-cat-cafe @northerngalxy @my-loves-my-life @http-gyu

thank you <3 to join taglist, send an ask! any reblogs appreciated <3 much love!

[nondelphic]

nondelphic writing tips: unconventional (but super fun!) ways to work on your story when you’re not writing

hi lovelies! (｡♥‿♥｡) time for another serious post!!

i'd like to share some of my fav unconventional, but super fun, ways to deepen your plot, characters, and world-building on those off-days when you're not actively writing. because let's be real, sometimes the most creative breakthroughs happen when you’re not staring at the blank page! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ

♡ incorrect quotes for characters

okay, this one is my absolute favourite!! even when i'm not writing, i love coming up with totally out-of-context or incorrect quotes for my characters (think “they would say this” energy). they don’t even have to be lines you use in the story, just little snippets of dialogue that fit their personality and vibe! it’s such a fun way to get to know your characters better and explore their quirks.

bonus: it’s also super entertaining when you assign hilarious, offbeat quotes to your more serious characters (≧◡≦). trust me, it works!

♡ acting out dialogue

confession time: i suck at acting but i love to act out my character’s dialogue to myself (ಥ‿ಥ). yes i do have a problem with daydreaming BUT walking around my room and speaking the lines really helps me figure out if they sound natural and realistic! if it feels awkward to say out loud, it might need tweaking. plus, it’s a great way to channel your inner actor for a little while (〃＾▽＾〃).

♡ using ai to brainstorm ideas

i love using ai tools as a sounding board to help with world-building decisions! like if i’m stuck between two options for how something should work in my world (magic system, politics, etc.), i’ll type it into an ai and ask, “what would be more realistic, option a or b?” ai can give you that nudge in the right direction and spark ideas you didn’t think of! it’s like brainstorming with a friend, but faster (￣▽￣)ノ

i have another post on using ai responsibly for writing here !!

♡ character playlists and mood boards

this one is so fun for those “off” days when you’re not writing! create playlists or mood boards for your characters or setting. find songs that capture their personality, struggles, or even the overall tone of your world. or scroll through pinterest and make a visual mood board that reflects the vibe of your world. it’s super immersive and helps you build your story’s atmosphere without writing a single word! ♫(◕‿◕)

♡ role-playing conversations between characters

this is one i like to do when i’m really feeling stuck. it's similar to acting out dialogue but rather than focusing on how realistic it sounds, it's about the characters themselves. i’ll imagine my characters just… hanging out and chatting. not even plot-related stuff, just normal conversations they’d have in their everyday lives. how would they talk to each other when they’re relaxed, annoyed, or excited? it’s such a fun way to build chemistry and relationships between your characters! (*≧ω≦)

♡ build “what if” scenarios

sometimes, i’ll brainstorm totally unrealistic “what if” situations just to see how my characters react! what if they were stuck in a completely ridiculous situation? how would they handle it? even if these scenes never make it into the story, they give me so much insight into how my characters think and behave. plus, it’s ridiculously fun (≧◡≦).

the key to all of this is to keep it light, fun, and creative on days when you’re not in the mood to do “serious” writing. storytelling isn’t just about the words you put on the page—it’s about the world, the people, and the relationships you’re building. so don’t be afraid to play around with it in unconventional ways. ♡＼(￣▽￣)／

happy writing (and daydreaming)!

[marlenesluv]

(Oscar/gn anon) awesome thankyou! I can't choose, but i reckon a smau maybe with some short fic snippets if that's not too much :) otherwise a normal smau is great :))

Softies. (OP)

yeah, of course! and yess, i love smau’s with fic snippets. i’ll definitely write this :))

request: “hey! I love your work, but can't really relate to the beautiful woman reader. would you be able to do an Oscar piastri/gender neutral Australian archaeologist living in the UK fic? maybe first time at a race/being introduced to some of the grid, or a casual soft launch on insta? but anything you want is also brilliant! pure fluff please, i love the idea of him being proud of me/talking about me a lot. please no fc/physical description, and he calls me his partner not gf/bf. if you write anything I'll love it, but no pressure!!! thankyou!!!”

pairing: oscar piastri x gn!reader archaeologist

fc: none! j pinterest pics used (no physical descriptions)

note: sorry this took me a bit, ive been having a lot of recs! also, i said people were staying in hotels in monaco and ik most drivers live there, but for the plot let’s pretend not, okay?

masterlist here -> masterlist link

^ check my list for all posts! ^

going to oscar’s races when you were busy with work, was difficult. luckily, your boss thought your recent discoveries were out of this world and rewarded you with extra time off. and of course, you texted oscar immediately, knowing that he would want you to go to his next race, which is also what you wanted.

the grid loved you, but you hadn’t released your relationship yet to his fans. oscar had never had a partner before, at least not while he was in formula 1. so you were nervous, and you guys wanted to soft launch over this weekend.

later that night, you packed your bags on facetime and flew out to monaco for the grand prix. living in the uk was great, it’s how you met oscar! but you had always wanted to visit monaco.

before arriving though, you wanted to post a little something on instagram.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: oscarpiastri, danielricciardo, and 198,024 others

y/n.user: i wonder..🇲🇨🧐

view comments…

formula1updates: is y/n going to monaco for the gp??

charles_leclerc: ratatouille!!

↳ y/n.user: i love ratatouille!

↳ charles_leclerc: me too!

user8: i wonder if they are gonna be in a paddock?

↳ f1wags: 🤔🤔

archeologyfinds: my fav archeologist is going to an f1 race??????

yourbsf: the food🤤

↳ y/n.user: it was soooo yummy

f1editpage: can’t wait to see you on the paddock!! (cuz we all know that they will be, lolzie)

↳ user3: what, you think y/n is dating someone in the grid??

↳ f1editpage: honestly, yes. y/n seems to be extra close with charles and oscar, i’m having suspicions

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

after landing, you got into the uber black that oscar had called for you, and made your way to his hotel.

at first, you were nervous to be seen by fans going into the hotel. just two hours ago, all of the drivers pictures were plastered on twitter, instagram and tiktok of the hotels they were seen entering. and only oscar and lando were in the maybourne riviera hotel, meaning that people’s suspicions could be confirmed if they saw you.

“oscar, what if they see me? and if they don’t like me? oh my gosh, what if-“ you were rambling in your shared room oscar has requested. one bed, a living room, a beautiful water view, and of course, a huge bathroom and kitchen.

“y/n, take a breath. its okay. i don’t care what anyone thinks, you’re my partner, not theirs. besides, i want them to know that i’m taken.” oscar smiled, giving you a hug as you sighed into his chest.

as he pulled away and gave you a kiss on the forehead, he went to pick up the phone, “pick out what you want for dinner. we’ll stay in tonight and watch your show.”

not sure if you could have asked for a better boyfriend, you scanned the menu and pointed to what you wanted as he ordered the food to the room.

“alright, let me tell you how much i love you while you eat your pasta, mmk?” he raised a brow and cuddled up next to you as you giggled. “okay, osc.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: landonorris, y/n.user, and 217,980 others

oscarpiastri: p3 in quali in monaco, lfg🧡🇲🇨

view comments…

piasstri.fp: THE SECOND PIC?

↳ f1fp: FR. WHO TOOK A SHIRTLESS OSCAR PIC?

↳ piasstri.fp: hes GOTTA have a partner, bro. i’m srs

landonorris: congratulations, man!! let’s pole and podium this!!

↳ oscarpiastri: thank you, landoooo! congrats on p2. we’ll do so good 💁‍♂️

user1: congratulations on the p3 and the partner! (it’s obv pls just tell us who)

y/n.user: mclaren 🔛🔝

↳ oscarpiastri: 🧡🙏

↳ landonorris: ohhhh yeahhhhh

y/n.editpage: is that y/n y/l/n??? WTF MY WORLDS COLLIDE

mclaren.fansss: LETS GO

user6: you’ll win🤗

danielricciardo: congratulations, oscar!!!!!

↳ oscarpiastri: thank you, dan!!!

wagupdates: vv suspicious picture there, oscar

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

qualifying was amazing for oscar. he got p3 and couldn’t be happier. i mean, he did say he could i he had gotten p1, but he was over the moon when he got p3.

after qualifying, came race day. which also happened to be the day that oscar wanted to announce your relationship on instagram after the race.

what oscar didn’t tell you, was that he would in fact be kissing you after he won. which he did.

he finally won a race as a rookie, and you couldn’t be prouder. your heart was full as you were standing by zak, waiting to congratulate oscar.

what you didn’t expect, was for him to run to you first, giving you the biggest hug and a kiss, earning hoots from his team and a slap on the back from lando, who came in p2.

“oscar!” you shouted, smiling as he but his lip and smilied. “i’ll see you in a bit!” he shouted back, running to the podium, hoping on the first place one.

zak laughed, warning your attention, “what?” you asked, suddenly a little shyer than before. “nothing. just couldn’t wait for you two too finally make it official.”

“oh…wait- what do you mean ‘finally’?” you stared wide eyed as zak rolled his eyes, “y/n. everyone in mclaren knows. hell, im pretty sure the whole grid knew!” zak left to go stand on the podium with oscar as you looked around.

when they got their trophies, you laughed and watched oscar spray lando with the champagne, and then spraying some charles, who got p3.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, and 204,249 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

y/n.user: congratulations, babe����

view comments…

oscarpiastri: i love you❤️

↳ y/n.user: i love you too❤️

formula1updates: HOLD UP. I SHIP

landonorris: they finally made it official, ladies and gents!!

↳ oscarpiastri: get your own partner and then you can FINALLY stop coming on our dates

↳ y/n.user: we look like a family when you come with, lando. pls get a partner

↳ landonorris: no. im happy with third wheeling

user4: AHHHHH IT HAPPENED EVERYONE STAY CALM

piastripage: OSCAR HAS A PARTNER?? who are they??

↳ y/n.fanpage: y/n is an archaeologist! they are amazingggg. loveeeee

user9: you guys are the cutestttt. my friends and i saw you in the paddock!!

paddockgirlies: need me an oscar. he’s so boyfriend

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: y/n.user, lewishamilton, and 219,240 others

oscarpiastri: my partner is so smart, they know archeology stuff 🏛️🤗

view comments…

y/n.user: osc🥹🫶

↳ oscarpiastri: 🫶🫶

f1updates: and the most supportive bf award goes toooo🏆

lilymhe: cutiessss

y/nandoscarship: the way he went with them to a work trip? the bar is so high for me now

user4: okay, we get it, you guys are adorable

mclareneditpage: plzzz i need me an oscar

user8: the way y/n calls him ‘osc’🥹🥲

pastry81: my favorite couple on the grid now, thx

danielricciardo: y/n is a better australian than you

↳ y/n.user: this means a lot coming from you, thank you

↳ danielricciardo: you are welcome 🤗🤠🇦🇺🦘

↳ oscarpiastri: oh😕🥲

user1: pretty pictures oh my goshhhh

f1editttt3: where r they??

↳ y/nfp: athens!!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

[omppupiiras]

my long & rambly thoughts about People's Champion the album 🍄‍🟫

Ready To Go.. ahh, first I have to make a confession that my first impression of this song was basically "..that's it?". But in my defence it was in the middle of the night & I was not maybe in the most receptive mood. 😂

but then over the course of a few days I went from "ok maybe i like it actually" all the way to "WAIT. it is a bop and also WHY AM I GETTING EMOTIONAL OVER IT? 😭😭" I could write a whole ass post about all my ready to feels and thoughts. It is, of course, about how Jere's ready to go. He doesn't care if the shoes he's stepping into are too big for him, he doesn't care that people don't believe in him. He knows that people only want to see him fail and are waiting to say "I told you so" when it happens. But he doesn't care about any of that because HE believes in himself. He's not giving up and he's going to give it his all and hell, this whole thing COULD blow up in his face but he doesn't care. He's ready to GO.

(and there's also something very naive and bittersweet about ready to go to me, he's giving this thing his all and throwing himself into it with eyes wide open, believing and trusting and full of expectations, but he doesn't actually know or understand where this road will take him. he will actually succeed beyond his or anyone else's wildest dreams, but there's no way he could have known before it happened how much it would cost him)

and ofc CCC coming immediately after ready to go is absolutely PERFECT placement!! I immediately became obsessed with the idea of the story this album was going to tell when we got the album art and title, and OH BOY. They did not disappoint!!

Because speaking of this album telling a story, next we have Tavavoltti. On first listen it's kind of a light-hearted funny song with fun sounds. But it following CCC makes one realize that hey. Wait. Oh. It's actually saying so much about his experiences after CCC. Like with ready to go i could write a darn essay about this song but.. it's about him being unable to say no. It's about him being the funny guy, and hey, funny guys can't not be happy, right?

(Täst roolista ryydyn, mut hymy ei hyydy

Oon syypää suun hymyyn, siks rooliini tyydyn

Everybody wants something from him and they don't mind tearing him apart to get it. And he's got everything a person could want, right? Surely? He's definitely not supposed to complain, so he resigns himself to the role of a circus monkey, the masochist that he is, and pushes himself to his absolute limits. (not to say that this song is all sad bc it's not! the chorus IS hopeful though maybe in a slightly melancholy way) but ONCE AGAIN a song that sounds like a bop is actually way more deep and meaningful than it has any right to be!! 😭

playing this role exhausts me, but my smile doesn't slip

i'm the reason for your smile, and that's why i accept my role)

and whew speaking of being a masochist, next we have ruoska. damn. DAMN. this album, man. i love ruoska moving on

Kot Kot, kot kot. This song boldly starts off with "mayday", and isn't that a choice? To me Kot Kot is about Jere needing help but he hasn't admitted that to himself yet. He has given away so much of himself yet he doesn't understand why he feels so empty now. The partying and drinking don't really help but it's all he knows how to do.

Skit immediately following Kot Kot kills me DEAD. It makes both of these songs desperately sad. In Kot Kot, he needs help. In Skit, he's asking for it and being dismissed. My theory is that the therapist in Skit represents how difficult it was for him to reach out for help or even to have people who understand. How could he even explain to someone how something so amazing can be so terrible? Does anyone even care to hear that, to listen to him talk about it? His problems aren't normal people problems, anymore.

Autiomaa, autiomaa, autiomaa. I loved Autiomaa from the first snippet he shared and the full song did not disappoint. Bye bye my old favorite Käärijä song Menestynyt Yksilö, Autiomaa has taken your place. 😭 Seems like I have a theme going on lol, I love songs where he gets real and personal, and in Autiomaa he does that on a whole new level.

I love that he was brave enough to write Autiomaa and bold enough to make sure people understood Autiomaa is a big deal to him. He wanted to share his feelings and be understood and heard. The music video is such a piece of art and besides being so emotional this song is just so damn GOOD. He's such a master of the finnish language in the way he writes lyrics.

I love sex = money and of course in true käärijä style it's a bop but it also says something very real with its lyrics. but hey! sex sells! better get selling then

bananas is the song i have the least feelings & thoughts about haha. I like all the foodstuff lyrics but that's about it 😂 maybe i will have more feelings about it when i hear it live

next we have Huhhahhei and I must confess.. it's not for me fam. I don't like it. 🙈 I can't put this into words in any way that makes sense, but to me Huhhahhei is different to every other Käärijä song. The lyrics are generic in a way that almost makes it feel like this song is about nothing at all. I don't see it as a love song either, to me the lyrics are just saying words to say them without really meaning anything. so for that reason to me Huhhahhei is the song that fits on this album the least.

icip kind of feels like a breath of fresh air in the album - it's crazy it's party, life is life. things aren't so doom and gloom anymore. with its placement in the album it feels like jere accepts all the good and the bad and now he has learned to enjoy being an artist again. he's had a hell of a party that he couldn't escape, maybe he lost his mind a little along the way, but he made it out to the other side. ta-da, ta-da, ta-da...

and lastly, People's Champion. It's a lovely song and a perfect song to end the album with. but i have written so many words now i dont have much left for people's champion dgdfgldf but i love it a lot and im so glad jere won the battle for this to be included bc truly, what would this album be without this song??

[pixiemage]

I’ve recently re-read your magebound au and was wondering if you had anymore snippets you would be willing share :)/nf

Ahhh hi! I'm glad you enjoyed it!!!

I honestly love that AU so much. I really need to get back to it when I can; there are a LOT of people whose stories I have planned out in my head, I just haven't had time to work on them hah.

That being said, if you're curious to see a character I haven't posted anything for yet, I HAVE been working a little scene in recent weeks for a prompt I got a while back. I made an MCYT Playlist Prompt two months ago, and then I immediately got busy after making it and didn't have time to do it lol...but this request from @i-am-oshawott caught my attention:

[Playlist D, Track 3] Magebound - "My Heart is Split" by Kerrigan Lowdermilk

It's a song I associate with Grian in this AU, for obvious reasons once you listen to it and read what I have written for it so far! <3 Enjoy!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

(...)

Grian felt as though perhaps he should be more grateful. If it weren’t for Mumbo, he was sure he never would have survived out there alone in the woods, as injured as he’d been after escaping the Watcher Coven. The fact that someone had found him and brought him to safety was a blessing in and of itself.

The Hermits were kind too, kind and a little kooky…the best kind of company to keep, in Grian’s opinion. Xisuma had been more than welcoming and Stress had been a spot of upbeat and chaotic positivity as she helped him heal. His wings were almost back to flight-ready thanks to False’s advice, and with the potions Joe Hills had been brewing for him, his magical core was finally feeling closer to normal than it had in years.

(Not that it would ever be normal again, as much as he hated to acknowledge it. The experiments the Watcher Coven had performed on him to strengthen his magic in order to better their own…he was sure it was practically irreversible. The most Joe’s potions could do was help him stabilize so he could regain full control over his magic again. For that, he would always be thankful.)

But back to the point…he thought perhaps he should be more grateful for all the Hermits had done for him, all the kindness and care they had provided in his time under their protection. But…something was missing.

Or rather, Grian was missing something.

He missed his home. He missed his flock. He missed the Evolution community and the mages that resided there, the other familiars like him who he had grown up with, and the witches and hybrids that he’d come to call his family. Martyn and BigB and Taurtis and the rest…

And Jimmy and Pearl. Grian heaved a sigh and drew his knees to his chest where he was sitting on the front stoop of Mumbo’s home. He rested his cheek on his knees and gazed unseeingly out over the lawn. He probably missed his siblings the most. Pearl may not have been a blood relative, but she was as close to a sister as he’d ever had, and up until the Watchers had taken him Grian couldn’t remember a day he hadn’t spent alongside his little brother Jimmy.

It had been years since then. Jimmy wasn’t a teenager anymore, was he? He’d probably lost all the juvenile plumage in his familiar form, and Grian hadn’t been there to see it.

…but Jimmy was still alive at least, and for that, Grian would gladly give another thousand days in captivity if it required.

The door creaked open behind him, but Grian didn’t bother moving.

“Oh! Grian! Hullo, I was just about to look for you.” A shadow fell over Grian and he glanced up to see Mumbo leaning over him, a small smile peeking out from beneath his mustache.

“It is lunch already?” Grian asked, wondering how long he’d actually been outside, but Mumbo shook his head.

“Not quite, mate,” he told him. He sidestepped Grian and trotted down the front steps. He must have been working on some invention or another because he was missing his jacket and tie, and Grian could see red smudges on his rolled-up shirtsleeves. “Xisuma just sent me a message. He’s got a surprise for you at the center of the village. C’mon.”

Grian made a face at Mumbo’s extended hand.

“I don’t like surprises,” he whined, his one unbandaged wing slumping against his back. “Can’t you just tell me what it is?”

“Sorry buddy, X didn’t say.” At least Mumbo looked apologetic about it. “I’ll stick with you though. If you wanna duck on out, I can cause a distraction.”

Grian pondered this. It seemed like a fair enough offer. So with a very put-upon sigh Grian took the offered hand, letting Mumbo drag him to his feet amid Grian’s undertone grumbling.

“It had better be a good distraction,” Grian told him flatly after a moment of silent walking. “Lots of flair and pizzaz.”

“Oh, absolutely!” Mumbo nodded. “I can do pizzaz. I’m Mr. Pizzaz. Mr. Mumbo Flair-Pizzaz Jumbo. Master of distraction.”

Grian had to fight against the grin that threatened to overtake his expression.

“Good to know I’ve got an expert,” he quipped, hearing the laughter under his own words. “Does Mr. Pizzaz have a business card? I’d love to recommend you to my friends.”

“Yup! Definitely!” Mumbo said, mirth starting to seep into his voice. “Business cards by the boatload. I could get you one the second we’re back at my place. They’ve got - ya know - glitter, and beveled edges, and everything–”

“Glitter?” Grian gaped at him, finally letting out a proper laugh. “Who puts glitter on business cards?”

“Well - well Mr. Pizzaz, obviously,” Mumbo chuckled brightly, his mustache curling upward with his grin. “Careful around him, it’s infectious. Once you go glitter you never go back–”

Grian snorted and fell into giggles, rolling his eye at his newfound friend. It was a shame they hadn’t met sooner. Their senses of humor were such a perfect fit…and in the aftermath of the horrors he’d endured at the hands of the Watchers, Mumbo had become an unignorable bright spot amid the shadows.

Perhaps Xisuma had seen it from the start. Perhaps he’d placed Grian in Mumbo’s care for that very reason.

They were approaching the center of the village by now, and Grian felt his feathers stand on end against his will. He didn’t like the unpredictable. He used to, he was sure he used to - he was certain surprises once held a good connotation once upon a time - but as it stood the unpredictable had come to mean danger in recent years. The unexpected held too much risk, too much fear. Perhaps Mumbo could tell that his humor had only been a half-successful distraction because the back of his hand brushed against Grian’s, an awkward attempt at comfort.

“Like I said,” Mumbo told him in an undertone, “if you need out you let me know, an’ we’ll go. But whatever X has got planned can’t be bad. Right?”

Grian nodded stiffly. Right. Right. Xisuma had been nothing but kind. They all had, really. He took a deep, shaking breath and tried to reign in his anxiety. He had nothing to fear here. It was called a Sanctuary for a reason.

…voices met his ears. Bright voices. Painfully familiar voices. Grian’s breath caught in his lungs and he swallowed past a lump in his throat, his eyes widening and a fragile, careful hope welling in his chest.

They rounded the corner. Sun-yellow feathers caught his eye, and he froze…and it was suddenly very difficult to breathe.

Jimmy was there by the fountain, taller than the last time Grian had seen him, with shorter hair and longer limbs and a little less of the boyish look he’d had as a teen. His wings were on full display - properly grown in now, though his feathers were just a tiny bit messy - and he was slightly turned away from Grian. He was bickering with Martyn - Martyn - over something Grian couldn’t make out, the feathers around his ears flared. Martyn looked older too, though somehow exactly the same, the same familiar fond exasperation on his face as he spoke with Jimmy that Grian had seen hundreds of times. There was a tension in his brow too, one that matched Jimmy’s, one that matched Pearl’s. Pearl was there too, a rich red traveling cloak hanging around her shoulders that Grian remembered had once belonged to her aunt. She was less animated than Martyn or Jimmy, her arms folded tight over her chest as she chewed on her nails, glancing between them silently.

She was the first to spot Grian.

Pearl’s eyes landed on him and Grian could hear her gasp from across the courtyard, catching the attention of Martyn and then Jimmy in quick succession. They turned to follow her eye and fell immediately silent, their expressions shifting through too many emotions for Grian to even try and decipher. Not that it even mattered. They were here. They were real. They were–

“Grian,” Pearl breathed, and it was like a spell broke.

“Grain!” Jimmy was running toward him in an instant with the others hot on his heels, and Grian met him in the middle on unstable legs. He and his brother crashed together in an engulfing hug on impact, clinging to each other like a lifeline, with the desperation of those who feared the other would vanish if they even dared to let go. Pearl crowded in on the right and Martyn on the left, a warm hand on his shoulder and another on his arm and fingers clinging to the sweater on his back.

Grian sobbed before he even knew he was crying, shaking in Jimmy’s arms and not caring that he was probably leaving damp patches of tears on the shoulder of his brother’s shirt. He didn’t care.

They were here. They were alive. They were okay. It was all worth it.

“I can’t believe it,” Martyn choked out, an emotional laugh in his words. “When they told us they found you, I didn’t - I could hardly believe it. We’ve been looking for so long–”

“Told you he’d make it,” Jimmy said shakily. “I told you. I did. I said–” His breath hitched and his wings shuddered, curling forward around the little group where Grian’s one unbandaged wing had fallen slack. “–I said ‘He’s Grian, he’d never give up. He’s stronger ‘n that.’ And I was right. I was - I was right.”

Grian chuckled wetly, weakly, unsteadily, leaning into his flock and burying himself in the feeling of home.

(...)

[hgejfmw-hgejhsf]

WIP Wednesday!

Happy Wednesday, my loves! I haven't been as interactive today because I've been wildly busy packing and preparing to jet off on an adventure this weekend to try to meet that dude in the lovely banner that @indestructibleheart made for me. Asking kindly for all the prayers, good wishes, vibes, and manifestations you possibly can for me and for @thinkof-england as we try and make our literal dreams come true on Saturday. But I promise I will get to reading y'all's lovely words as soon as I'm able! I'm not done screaming at y'all! Not ever!

I want to thank the following incredible humans for the tags today: @adreamareads @duchessdepolignaca03 @suseagull04 @bigassbowlingballhead @england-would-fall @onthewaytosomewhere @captainjunglegym @magicandarchery @priincebutt @cha-melodius @songliili @getmehighonmagic @ninzied @wordsofhoneydew @itsmaybitheway @sparklepocalypse and @leaves-of-laurelin. Don't I have an amazing support system?! Look at all these people! I love each and every one of y'all.

As I said earlier, I haven't had much time this week, so I'm gonna peruse through At the end of a bar, chapter 4 for a little longer-than-normal snippet, I do believe.

It’s typical small talk for the majority of the meal, with Pez moaning wantonly after each bite and lamenting their mutual inability to cook anything more than toast, pointedly and loudly saying if I had someone around to make me fat and happy, I’d never leave bed with a wink at Henry, who’s silently wishing that the earth might open and swallow him whole. Alex is the one who politely - and with a hint of color in his cheeks that has Henry wanting to commission a painting dedicated to finding the precise shade of pink and giving it a name - redirects the conversation to how the two best mates came to meet. While Pez delivers a soliloquy to rival even the most animated of actors, complete with sweeping hand gestures and too-long pauses for dramatic effect, Henry watches Alex. Brown eyes sparkling with genuine curiosity, he leans forward with his chin in his hand, one elbow propped on the tabletop, and Henry’s stomach swoops at the sight. It certainly is not made any more tolerable by the presence of Alex’s foot, gently rubbing up and down Henry’s ankle beneath the table. Or Alex’s foot dragging up Henry’s leg, until he’s pressing against the inside of Henry’s knee. Or Alex’s foot pressing forward between Henry’s spread legs to rub against his– “Right,” Henry says, wincing at the sound of his chair scraping against the dining room floor. "I’m just going to take a quick shower.”

Still got some folks who I haven't seen go yet today, so tagging them behind the cut! And as always, an open tag for anyone else who wants it! Share your words with me and the world!

@affectionatelyrs @agame-writes @anincompletelist @barbiediaz @firenati0n @gayrootvegetable @guillermosfamiliar @happiness-of-the-pursuit @heybuddy-drabbles @inexplicablymine @junebugclaremontdiaz @kiwiana-writes @leojfitz @littlemisskittentoes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @msmarvelouswinchester @mulderscully @nocoastposts @notspecialbabe @rockyroadkylers @ships-to-sail @sophie1973 @ssmtskw @stereopticons @theprinceandagcd @typicalopposite @user-anakin @vanillahigh00 @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @whimsymanaged @zwiazdziarka

[sinfulsalutations]

𝕕𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕧𝕚𝕓𝕖𝕤 ⋆*･ﾟ𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕕 𝕓𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ʟᴏᴛꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ꜱᴇɴꜱᴜᴀʟɪᴛʏ ɪɢ, ᴄᴜᴛᴇɴᴇꜱꜱ ᴀʟʟ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ

⋆ ★ ɪ ᴡʀᴏᴛᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴ 30 ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇꜱ :)

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

Hunter 

Walking around a busy neighborhood, looking for a place to eat when you see people dancing on the street. 

Seeing a live band playing dreamy romantic music, and couples swaying lovingly together. 

You flash him a smile, beckon him over, and join hand in hand, Hunter’s arms wrapped around your waist and your hands meeting behind his neck. 

You two aren’t the most amazing dancers, stepping on the other's foot occasionally and bumping into another couple, but it’s perfect ‘cause it’s you two, and he twirls you around and brings you back into his arms with a smile. 

There’s so much adoration and pure softness in his eyes, you can’t help but indulge in a little PDA and kiss his pretty lips and press your foreheads together.

Tech 

Lounging in the cockpit of the Marauder, sitting across from each other and eating your favorite meal together, just talking. 

This sweet boy went to great lengths to get your exact favorite food, doing extensive research on where to get it, or, if needed, how to make it.

Exchanging small glances and smiles even when the sound of chewing overtakes any other noise. 

Holding hands as you eat, exchanging thoughts and ideas and little snippets of your day or week to each other.

As the night goes on, maybe putting on some music and rocking together, softly holding the other in your arms, or Tech showing you whatever new he’s been working on or researching on his datapad, avidly sharing with wide and loving eyes. 

He doesn’t even bother watching himself and what he’s saying, because he knows you wouldn’t interrupt or be bothered.

Wrecker 

A picnic on a sunny, leafy planet, your setup nestled somewhere away from busy roads and cities, blanket and basket of food placed on the lush grass, and his smile brighter than the sun.

Feeding each other fruits and sandwiches, smiling giddily when he gets sauce all over his mouth and reaching over to wipe it off with your thumb.

Wrecker insisting there’s something on your face too, and reaching over to steal a long, thorough kiss that has you giggling when he pulls away.

Ending up on his lap or him lying on his back, your head on his chest. 

Wrapping your arms around his neck and nuzzling your face in the crook there or listening to his heartbeat. 

You might end up falling asleep in each other's warmth, taking a nice little nap under the sun together before having to wake up and go about your normal, boring, unromantic business.

Crosshair 

Walking through busy shopping streets, leading him by the grip you have on his wrist and looking at all the goods and services.

Him insisting he doesn’t care to get anything, but you see him eyeing a sleek gray holster that would definitely pair well with his kit.

Getting drinks and sipping from each other's straws, Crosshair insisting yours is too sweet and you insisting his is too bitter.

A baby pointing at Crosshair with wide eyes and him glaring back with that mean look, but the baby only laughs. You can’t stop giggling.

Him sneakily interlocking your fingers for a split moment as the throngs of people become too crowded and it being harder to see you.

He says he’s not going to buy anything for either of you, but he goes back later as you’re using the restroom to buy that good you were admiring while window shopping. 

When you ask him how much it cost, he insists that it’s nothing you should worry about.

Echo

Finding a skyline view, maybe some sort of quiet restaurant or lounge above the Coruscant sky.

Somewhere modest but thoughtful and romantic, just like Echo.

Not wanting to sit across from you so instead finding a loveseat and leaning on each other, arms linked.

Observing speeders and people walking past, making up lives and stories about them. 

Giggling to each other when you make up outrageous ones. 

Having to finish his food when he picks out all the parts he doesn’t like.

When you’re walking home holding hands pulling him down an unoccupied hallway, letting your back press onto the wall, and kissing him silly for a few moments before finally deciding to go home.

dividers by @saradika ~ tags: @starstofillmydream @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @badbatchbabe @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @thebahdbitch @secondaryrealm @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @kimiheartblade @anotherschuylersister @wolffegirlsunite @star-burned @starrylothcat

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

Would love to hear about The Gang Plays D&D :)

HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEH

I'm SO CLOSE to being finished with this fic. By which I mean I'm 40k in and praying it doesn't go over 50k. Please little fic, please, I'm begging you, do NOT grow up big and strong, stay a reasonable length!

For those of you who might be new and missed the various snippets I've shared, this fic is about the 118 starting a D&D campaign DM'd by Bobby where Buck and Eddie promptly romance one another's characters and refuse to admit that they're romancing one another in real life. Shenanigans ensue.

"What kind of shenanigans?" you ask. Well, I'm so glad you did! Have a snippet:

I want that. I want you. His hips twitch, trying to rut up into the heel of his hand where it’s pressed to his cock. Eddie breathes carefully through his nose. He is not going to get off to this. He’s not. Atton’s going kiss him a lot for that. And then he’s going to wait is there lube? There’s lube in this setting right? Do not fucking text Bobby to ask him if this setting has lube. Yes it has lube. People are people, Buck. Okay but like. What is the lube like. Would we have any? Do you want to roll for it? There’s a suspiciously long pause so Eddie adds, Buck for the love of god you are not rolling a d20 to find out if our characters have lube. They have something, okay? They have like face cream that can also be used as lube. Hey now a lot of creams are topical use only! Buck you have a man with his legs spread willing to fuck you, you have lube. Christ yeah okay fine there’s lube. Eddie closes his eyes, switches to voice-to-text, and resigns himself to burning in Hell. “Pass it to me. I want to feel you open up on my fingers.” He’ll make a really embarrassing noise at that. Eddie can’t help the smirk that slides across his face, imagining Buck responding for real. “Aww, was that a whine, sweetheart?” Fuck you no it wasn’t. Help me out of this stupid robe. “With pleasure.” Buck’s response comes in suspiciously fast given all the words it contains and how much typing it would’ve needed. It’s going to take a minute because I’m going to keep kissing you. Kind of hard to undress each other when we keep kissing but I don’t care I don’t want to stop. You feel really good against me.

Surely this is completely normal behavior and won't blow up in their faces. :3

[roguelov]

okay I know we all love romantic DreamxHobxYoung!Immortal!Reader, BUT I saw a tiktok recently that gave me an idea. the video said something like "immortal character taking in magical character who has been rejected by their family and community and becoming their parental figure"

maybe it's a situation similar to jjk, where geto adopted those 2 girls who were being abused by their village for being sorcerers.

they don't have to be an actual kid though, they could be older since they'd still be wayyy younger than dream and hob lol

just dream and hob taking in this person who's been rejected by everyone and taking care of them and stuff (platonic soulmates maybe?)

(I have like a whole story about this in my head, but it includes yet another fandom so I'll leave it at this😅🤭)

Oh my god my heart my baby heart loves this so much 🥹🥰 found family? I’m sold I’m here for it

You were ostracized by your community by a young age, you were gifted with an affinity for magic and labeled a menace. You drifted along by yourself for a while mostly surviving until you crossed paths with a gentleman with a kind smile. Hob instantly knew you were in need, you had this broken and almost feral look in your eyes. It reminded him of his time after his family died and his town believed him to be a witch.

After some coaxing, he brought you to the New Inn and gave you a warm meal. And since then you always found yourself there. Maybe at first you tried to stay away, believing you are a monster. Your magic was wild, chaotic, and impossible to control no matter the effort you put into learning it. However, you enjoyed Hob’s company and he made you feel safe. And eventually, you met Dream.

Maybe you never told Hob and Dream your secret and past, but one day while in the Dreaming your magic spills out. It nearly toppled over the castle, and you tried to flee afterwards. But, Dream and Hob found you in Fiddler’s Green. Tears streaming down your face, you blurted out everything. You told them what people called you, your eternal life doomed to be alone given your cursed magic, how -

Hob will immediately cut you off, “No one is cursed to be alone.”

Hob and Dream will pour into how they will not leave you, how you aren’t alone anymore, and how they will do everything they can to help you.

“The Dreaming can be your home, you are always welcomed here,” Dream will say.

And you will stay. You will stay because you love it here and everyone - Dream, Hob, Lucienne, Matthew, Marv, Cain and Abel, Goldie - are your family.

Now here’s some snippets I think would be lovely:

Dream and Hob trying to help you control your magic but results in them being knocked around (more so in the beginning)

Dream will be your biggest teacher and supporter when learning your magic and may find some artifacts to help control (maybe he’ll make you a ruby necklace to contain some of your magic)

Hob will share stories of his past both the good and the bad

If you want a normal life in the Waking, Hob will gladly let you work at the inn

If you have nightmares especially of your past, Dream will be there to comfort you and apologize not meaning to upset you

Once you can control your magic, you will excitedly show off to Dream and Hob and they are so happy and proud of you

Dream and Hob will see a new light in your eyes that makes their heart feel so at ease

Just Dream and Hob becoming your home and them uplifting you constantly

[caeli0306]

No pressure! But do you have another snippet of jealous Xaden that you could share with us?👀

unfortunately I do not! some people have probably noticed that I haven't been as active on here as I normally am. life has been super crazy over the last few weeks and the prompt fics have taken a bit of a back seat as a result. I haven't even started the next chapter of cc yet bc of how much I've had going on since I finished the last chapter. I probably overcommitted with the number of prompts I accepted, so it is taking me much longer than I was hoping to get through them. sorry bestie! hopefully once things calm down a bit I'll have a little more free time to work on prompt fics.

[landinrris]

A snippet! Now that I'm finally editing the Witch! AU, I wanted to share a bit of Lando and Carlos meeting properly for the first time. The events as they happen in this 1.1k don't really spoil anything plot-wise. I humbly present, Lando as a witchy shop owner and Carlos as a human tourist stumbling into Lando's shop while on vacation for the second day in a row.

Around ten, Lando looks up as the motion detector chimes and almost chokes on the air he’s breathing. Because Sober Guy is there. Standing in front of him. A hesitant yet hopeful expression on his face if Lando didn’t know better.

He can’t hope for that.

It takes a lot of Lando’s Professional Adult ability to smile normally and greet him. “Oh, hi. Is there something I can help you find?” That’s a normal, professional response, right?

Sober Guy’s smile morphs into something more relaxed— Lando has to be dreaming. There’s no way this is real life.

Unlike yesterday, he isn’t dressed strictly for the beach, but rather in something much worse, in Lando’s humble opinion. No, today, Sober Guy has on a pair of running shorts that ride up a bit higher on one of his thighs and a workout shirt that’s damp to match his hair. He has running shoes on as well, proof that he’s decided to stop back into Lando’s shop along his morning run for whatever reason.

Lando wants to scream at him, ‘You came to the beach and you brought workout clothes?’ He doesn’t, but he could. It would be so easy to.

“Oh, uh no, I’m not here for anything specific you sell.”

“No? Is there something else then?” Lando had thought he’d seemed normal enough in the few minutes they’d more or less interacted yesterday— certainly not one to come and stand in the middle of a shop and stare. Maybe George and Oscar had been right after all.

Sober Guy rubs a hand over the back of his neck and steps closer to the counter. “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Carlos, I was in yesterday with a group of people. They were a bit drunk. I just wanted to apologize for them again. Make sure you knew we weren’t just another group of annoying tourists.”

It’s a silly thing to say the world shifts upon learning Sober Guy’s name. Carlos. It’s the perfect name for him. Lando suddenly feels like he can breathe easier, like he’s just cleaned his glasses for the first time in too long.

Lando thinks he only misses a beat before responding. “Yeah, I remember. I’m Lando, nice to meet you, Carlos. Your friends were fine, honestly. I’ve dealt with far worse. They had you looking out for them. Someone had to be better at holding their alcohol,” he tacks on, trying to make it sound like he wasn’t watching Carlos too closely. Carlos probably wouldn’t appreciate knowing Lando thought about him all afternoon and night.

Carlos just smiles. “Ah no, I wasn’t drinking, actually. Designated sober person and all that.”

“I guess that would explain how you’re up without them exercising. I’d ask if you’re sure you’re not a local, since who the hell goes on holiday and exercises— no, no, runs— but you’re down here, so I guess that answers that.” Lando allows some of his normal snark to come out, desperate to keep Carlos standing in front of him for even a few minutes longer.

He takes it as a positive sign when the smile on Carlos’ face morphs from something polite to properly amused— like Lando joking with him puts them on a more level playing field. “What, you don’t like to run? But it’s so great— feel the air in your lungs, the breeze in your hair. You wake up early enough and then you have the whole day in front of you.”

The thrill that sings through Lando’s body is pathetic. “More like burning fire in your lungs, sweat dripping into your eyes, and your calves on fire.”

Carlos actually laughs at him, and Lando has to hold himself back from actively preening. “Do you not get a lot of runners who come through here? Maybe they are clearly using a better running area that I should know about.” Lando swears there’s a hidden ‘for next time’ that goes unsaid but can’t figure out why it would be there.

“If only ‘cause all the people I know who live here use the trails in the parks that are around here a lot more. Run into fewer tourists that way. I guess if you’re staying down here though, it doesn’t make as much sense to go all the way out to them.”

“Yeah, we’re just here at the Harbor. It’s nice even if I think some of the amenities are wasted on me for such a short time. The girls like them though, so it could be worse.”

“Are you like the fifth wheel on this trip or something?” Lando doesn’t necessarily mean to blurt out that he’d been watching them that closely, but the words leave his mouth anyway, lulled into a false sense of security by their ease.

Sure enough, Carlos’ eyes go wide, a laugh at least close behind.

Before he can speak, Lando hurries to apologize. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to like, call you out or anything. I just noticed that it didn’t seem like you had a girlfriend or anything. Unless the others weren’t also together. Talk about just assuming.” Lando’s about to magic his own fucking mouth closed so he’ll stop talking even if Carlos doesn’t look mortified.

“No, no, you’re right. You just took me off guard a bit. I have been their fifth wheel for a bit of an embarrassingly long time, I’m afraid. But I don’t mind. It gives me more time to myself.”

If they knew each other better, Lando might reply with something like, ‘forcing yourself to run, even in the May mornings, is not proper time to yourself.’ But Lando is capable of not saying everything that comes to his mind, so he settles on something more mundane. “Oh, well that’s good, I suppose. Hopefully, they’re not too irritating and in your face about it while you’re here.”

Carlos goes to open his mouth when his watch lights up with an incoming phone call that must also vibrate against his wrist by how he startles and turns his wrist to look. Lando can’t read the caller id from here, but he figures there are only so many people it could probably be on a Sunday morning.

“And that would be my friends wondering where I am.” Carlos sighs like it’s the worst possible outcome— a reaction Lando tries and fails not to attribute to himself as the reason. “I should probably go. It was really nice to properly meet you, Lando. Good luck with everything.”

Lando tries to keep the melancholy out of his voice. This will probably be the last time he sees Carlos, and it’s worse now that he actually has a name to his face. “Yeah, you too. Try not to run into a car or anything. They’re not really used to people running voluntarily around here.”

Carlos gives him one last bright laugh that turns Lando’s insides to jelly, and then he’s gone.