#drabble list 1

[mickyschumacher]

can you please do a Carlos imagine where Carlos and Y/N are out partying after a race. Y/N gets approached by a drunk and inappropriate guy who either trys to touch her says some inappropriate things, and Carlos steps in. He’s the crazy protective boyfriend, and he ends up getting into a fight with the guy. Carlos gets cut by a broken beer bottle during the fight, so Y/N gets to care for his wound, and basically gets to play nurse on Carlos

𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: after winning the australian grand prix, carlos and you decide to take on some partying. what you didn't expect was to end the night nursing your boyfriend.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: slightly suggestive at the end (16+), depictions of blood and fighting, reader is harassed by creepy ugly disgusting man, mentions of alcohol, small consolation, poor humour, google translated spanish by yours truly, fluff, and lastly, shitty proof-reading

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: carlos sainz x girlfriend!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2.3k

𝐀/𝐍: so so sorry it took this long! i didn't go fully for smut because idk if you wanted it but i'm happy to make a part two in the near future! hope you enjoyed it ♡︎

𝐀/𝐍: welcome to my drabble/blurb phase because i, for the life, of me cannot produce long fics consistently despite constantly having ideas! although i am redefining the meaning of drabbles and blurbs with this word count :)

𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The Australian Grand Prix. The third race into the season. Max had won the last two, predictably setting the tone for the rest of the year. Carlos, on the other hand, needed to up his game.

You were together when you found out he had lost his seat for the following year. Boy, were you gutted. Carlos had done everything in his power, forever compared to Ferrari's golden boy. He liked Charles, but what the fuck was he supposed to do with this type of treatment? And to make matters worse, Lewis was a great driver pulling great results in shit car.

Carlos needed to win. He needed to be the most wanted in that damn paddock. And while Max was winning so far, the universe often has it's odd ways.

Even if that was in the form of fiery flames on Max's brakes in the opening laps.

You remembered it as clear as day.

You were in as much disbelief as anyone else, eyes widened as Max's car slowed, grey smoke billowing out of the rear while even the Haas and Williams surpassed him.

Your eyes hesitantly moved to the large screens in the garage, zoning in on the number one row to see Carlos' name sprawled next to it. A gasp fell from your lips, eyes averting to a shouting Oñoro before you hugged each other with shaky hands.

Your heart was in your ears, thudding in echoes. Hands sticky at your sides as you watched the the last lap. You knew the outcome. Yet you couldn't stomach it. With a tight throat, you weren't sure if you going to throw up or break into tears.

Instead of your heartbeat, you found the roars of Ferrari deafening. Flashes of white cameras mixed with the air as the sun warmed your golden boy. Looking up through your lashes, you caught his gleaming smile before catching the feel of his lips on yours.

Carlos had won. He was the most wanted driver in the damn paddock.

And that deserved a celebration.

You and Carlos weren't ones for partying. Not unless it was with the right people. And there was nothing more right than a Grand Prix winner and all his supporters in one place.

It was packed. Bodies so close together, full of sweaty rivulets amongst the humidity and strobe lights. The music felt foundational as it coursed from your feet and into your veins.

Carlos watched you dance in front of him. You were remarkable. Skin so flushed that in even in the flickering lights, you radiated. Your hair stuck to your glittering skin, but nowhere near as close as the dress you had worn for him.

He smiled softly at the cheeky gaze your gave him, large hand reaching out to grab your waist. His cheek skimmed your face as he pressed a kiss onto your cheek. "You're killing me."

"All in a day's work," you quipped, hanging your hands around his neck. You could hear Carlos' huff of amusement over the pulsing music. You held those brown puppy eyes, drinking them in, you smiled. "I'm proud of you, cariño."

The humour on his face faded, replaced by a moment of fulfilment. His other hand moved to caress your face, tucking your hair behind your ear. His thumb moved in small soothing circles. "Thank you."

His words sounded like a whisper in the loudness, but you could hear how much it meant to him as much as you could see it.

You lifted your head up, bringing your lips to his. Carlos' grip on your waist tightened, his own lips quirking into a smile as you kissed him with the entirety of your heart. Gone was any trace of alcohol or humidity in the air. All you could feel, smell, and taste was Carlos. And you loved it.

Breathlessly, you begrudgingly moved away from Carlos, taking a moment to come up for air.

"Let me get you a drink, hermosa," Carlos offered, grinning at the jut of your lips as you pouted. "I'll be back soon. Fastest pitstop ever."

You laughed loudly, throwing your head back, entirely unaware of the mystical trance you had brought Carlos into. With the nod of your head, you gestured for him to go on.

Watching the retreating figure of Carlos, you found yourself amused and entertained at the sight of Lando's valiant DJing efforts. Another driver who was enjoying his first podium of the year.

You were only moving lightly to the music, waiting for Carlos with little patience. But the sudden cold shiver that had travelled up your body had set the alarms off in your mind. Your throat felt dry at the unfamiliar hand on your shoulder and your body felt uneasy upon looking at the sleazy stranger.

"Hello, sweetheart! How are you doing?" The Australian accent was exceptionally loud over the music and the alcohol reeked, particularly from the beer bottle in his hand.

You winced, trying to keep a fake smile at bay. "Great," you murmured, attempting to move your shoulder away from him but the man's fingers were latched.

"Aw, now don't be like that," he retorted, taking a step closer to you. "Let's dance... get to know each other a little, hmm?"

The hairs of your body stood straight. "I... my boyfriend will be here soon, then we can get to know each other."

You wanted to shrivel into a ball at the sickening laugh that had fallen from the stranger's lips. "Oh, he doesn't need to know anything. Come on, baby," he egged, bottled-hand suddenly finding your waist, "can't you feel how much I want you?"

Bile found it's way up your throat but you managed to keep it down. "No, I don't," you said sharply, "you need to leave."

You tried to move your hands away from him, pushing at his chest, but his grip was only getting tighter, moving down your body in the most repulsing manner. What the hell? Suddenly you felt like you were all alone in this club. Where the hell was everyone?

"She said leave."

You snapped your head to the familiar Spanish voice, relief flooding into your system but only momentarily as the scenario escalated at an unearthly speed.

Your eyes widened, feeling a mix of warm and cold air rush past your body as the stranger was ripped off of you and thrown to the ground. Shit.

You couldn't gather what was even going on. Carlos was straddling the man, pummelling him repeatedly. The music, you think, has stopped. A crowd had formed. Lando and Oñoro had quickly made their way, trying to diffuse the situation.

Your heart skipped a few beats as Carlos took a few hits himself. And the sound of glass shattering bordered on you having a heart attack. Fuck, fuck, this was bad. You could see people pull out their phones, recording, which only baffled you even more.

You aided Oñoro in pulling Carlos away, sucking in a sharp breath at the string of angry curses falling your boyfriend's mouth, moving between English to Spanish. "¡Jodido gilipollas! ¿Quién coño te crees que eres? That's my girlfriend, you creep. ¡Nunca la toques con esas asquerosas manos! ¡Te joderé si te vuelvo a ver!" Fucking asshole! Who the fuck do you think you are? That's my girlfriend, you creep. Don't ever touch her with those disgusting hands! I will fuck you up if I ever see you again!"

"Es suficiente, Carlos," you appeased, urging him to stay away as you began to spot the runs of blood down the sides of his face and neck, mixed in with the loose beer. That's enough, Carlos.

You still weren't sure what was going on. You had no idea where Oñoro had gone after sending you and Carlos to your hotel room because, God forbid, Carlos' PR team had a lot of work to do, legally and socially.

Lando had briefly dropped in, grabbing a first aid kid from the hotel staff before leaving with Oñoro.

You quietly watched Carlos walk into the room, towel wrapped around his waist, water covering his body as he had washed off all the beer and blood.

Carlos captured the pained look on your face, eyeing the patches of red skin across his chest and the nicks on his face. He sighed, holding in a wince as he sat next to you. "I'm fine, hermo–"

"You are an idiot," you cut him off, handing him the ice pack you had made from the hotel's materials. "Hold this on your chest, it'll reduce the swelling."

You leaned in the further, trying to take a better look at him. A frown made it's way onto your face. The more you looked, the worse you felt. The red patches on his chest, the bruised cheek, and the worst of all, the horrid gash across his hand.

Carlos carefully watched you chew your lip, tediously grabbing his injured hand, inspecting the wound. The pain which had gotten worse in midst of his shower quickly began to dissipate at your touch. If there was any stinging pain, he couldn't feel it, even when you had cleaned the gash.

"Why didn't you call me?" Carlos queried, breaking the thick silence that had been held over you.

You paused your cleaning, briefly flickering your eyes to his face before quickly averting in the fear you would be sucked up into a whole new problem in those luring brown eyes. Furrowing your brows, you resumed. "I had it under control," you lied with a determined stubbornness.

Carlos laughed softly in amusement before wincing at the stretch of his bruised cheek. He sighed. "I don't doubt that you did," he started, hand reaching out to gently move your chin towards him, "but you should've come and found me. Or even Oñoro or Lando."

You couldn't help but return a sigh, hesitantly putting the antiseptic onto his hand, awaiting any jerking reaction. You realised he was waiting for some sort of response, ignoring any pain shooting up his fingers. "I know," you told him, "I just... froze."

Carlos softened his eyes. "Cãrino... I'm sorry you had to go through that. I-I should've stayed. Are you okay?"

You gave him a pointed look. He had already asked you that, mere seconds after you had pulled him away from the fight. You held back an eye roll at the raised brows Carlos gave you. "I'm fine, Carlos. I'm not the one beat up."

"If I got there any later..." Carlos trailed off, unsure if he was sick or angry at the thought.

You paused, almost falling into the same train of thought but you shook it off. You grabbed the roll of bandage, unravelling the strip of white around his hand. "But you didn't," you reassured, giving him a small smile. Carlos smiled, nodding in agreement.

"Can we exterminate men?"

A laugh quickly fell from your lips at the question. God, how many times have you thought about that one before?

You finished wrapping the bandage, tying a small secure knot before grabbing the ice pack from his other hand. Inching closer to him, you gently pressed the ice on his cheek. "And what about you then?"

Carlos raised a brow, using his free hand to pull you onto his lap. You gasped at the coldness on your waist as waves of cold flushed your body. "I'm excluded from this... obviously."

"Obviously," you repeated, rolling your eyes. "Are you sure though? Because I wouldn't mind it," you teased.

"Really?" Carlos narrowed his eyes, leaning in closer to you. "You wouldn't mind no kisses, no hugs, no... touches?"

All of a sudden your throat felt dry at his words. His cold fingers ghosting down the side of your neck with a following trail of goosebumps. And yet you felt hot.

You pretended to ponder for a minute, trying your absolute best to ignore the brown eyes watching you or the fingers grazing your chest. "I think I'm okay with it," you whispered.

Carlos stopped moving his hand and gave you a dry look. "Well I'm not," he childishly retorted before bringing his lips to yours.

His lips were soft as per usual, taking you by surprise with the intensity of this kiss. You could feel his arm tighten around your waist, warmth spreading across your body as his bandaged hand gently held your face.

You were melting at his touch. His tongue was navigating your mouth, consuming your very being. You could feel his hand adjust you on his lap, letting you feel something else entirely.

Carlos' breath hitched at the feel of you hand snaking up his bare thigh, inching closer and closer to where he was aching the most. His hand shot out, covering your own through the towel he was wearing.

You parted from his lips, raising a brow with a panting chest. You could see his lust-ridden eyes, practically begging for you do to do more.

"Take it back."

You mended your brows. What on earth was he... oh.... oh.

With a firm sigh, you relented. "Fine, you won't be exterminated. I guess... it would be hard to live without you."

Carlos grinned, satisfied with your answer. "True... and we would have the hardest job of all."

"And what's that?" You asked, eagerly awaiting his response with perked ears.

Carlos' injury-free hand stretched out, moving your hair behind your ears before grazing past your cheek and landing on your lips. He smiled widely. "To repopulate the earth, hermosa."

You gasped, instinctively hitting his chest. "Carlos!"

The Spaniard dramatically winced at the action, holding his bandaged hand to his chest.

"Mierda," you cursed, "I'm so sorry, cariño." Your eyes darted around, ensuring you hadn't made anything worse.

Carlos tapped your thigh, directing your attention to him. "Can we go back to repopulating the earth now?"

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

(please consider reblogging for a better poll size 🫂🫂🫂)

[dangerpronebuddie]

I love sub Eddie, but now I kinda want to see the “breathe, please” prompt with desperate CPR 😂

You and me both darling 😂

For you, smut prompt turned whump: "Breathe, please."

“Breathe, please.” Buck keeps doing compressions, ignoring the sickening dip of Eddie's chest beneath his palms. “Come on, Eddie, please,” he begs, his voice shaking more than his hands. A roar in his ears almost drowns out his voice, or maybe it's the ocean only a few feet away from them. He has the bizarre thought that this must've been what Eddie felt like, cracking Buck's ribs in a lightning storm, trying to restart Buck's heart as well as his own. Because that's what this feels like. Like he's dying all over again. He tries two rescue breaths, but still nothing. “Eddie, please.” He starts compressions again, blinking through the tears in his eyes. Thirty more compressions later, he tries the rescue breaths again. On the second breath, Eddie finally coughs. Buck helps Eddie turn on his side, combing his fingers through his hair, soothing him as he coughs up water. He slumps back with a gasping breath and blinks his eyes open. Eyes Buck never thought he'd see again. Buck doesn't know who moves first. It really doesn't matter. Eddie throws his arms around Buck's neck as Buck pulls him into his arms, sobbing into his shoulder. Eddie clings tighter to him, one hand buried in his curls that are starting to dry from the icy wind. “You're okay, baby,” Buck says softly. “I've got you.” Eddie whimpers, holding Buck like he never wants to let go again. Buck won't let him go. Not again. Not ever. Buck presses a kiss to his temple and holds him tighter as the distant shouts from their team finally get closer. “It's okay. I've got you.”

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

Prompt List

Hey, guys! I've made a list of prompts that y'all can send in, along with the driver you want! I am going to start with F1 imagines, and maybe, later on, I'll include other fandoms too. Also, I haven't really learned how to make an smau yet, so those requests might take me some time.

Feel free to send in stuff aside from this as well!

“We should get married.”

“What would happen if I kissed you right now?”

“I never really left.”

Using each other’s phones without supervision 

Having their first serious fight

“Seeing you like this, I fell even more in love with you.”

“You love me again.” “Who said I stopped?”

“Maybe this was a mistake.”

“Do I make you nervous?”

raspberry lip gloss

pajama bottoms

flushed cheeks

a fogged up mirror

colouring tattoos

lipstick marks on shirt collars

silver bangles

six missed calls

“Silly me to assume that you would care.”

“I can’t believe that we finally made it.”

“We’re ride or die, remember?”

“I’ll be here forever. For as long as you’ll have me.”

“If you insult them, you insult me.”

“We’re a package deal.”

“I could pick you out from a room full of thousands of people.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’ve saved me so many times; it’s only right that I return the favor.”

“Did you seriously drop everything just to come here?”

“You are my home.”

“I saved this for you.”

“I got you your favourite.”

“I haven’t watched any of it without you.”

“This reminded me of you.”

“You can have the last one.”

“You could put a knife to my throat and I wouldn’t flinch.”

“I made this for you.”

“I knew you would be there. You always are.”

“I don’t care about what they think, I care about you.”

“I know, I know, I’m stuck with you. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“really? i never knew that about you.”

“who’d buying you flowers that isn’t me?”

“isn’t paying for dinner a date thing?”

“for you, i’d do anything.” “i know.”

a tattoo parlour, buzzing with machinery and walls lined with artwork .

an otherwise empty parking lot .

the thick crowd of an audience at a show .

“Wanna dance?”

“i love that about you.”

“your hugs are the best.”

“could you get any cuter?”

“please come back to bed.”

“god, you’re just the cutest.”

“wow. you look really good”.

“can you come here? please?”

“you’re freezing! take my jacket.”

stargazing

“I wish I could hate you.”

“I can hate your guts but still respect you.”

physical touch as a love language

words of affirmation as a love language

acts of services as a love language

“I miss home.”

“You’re safe with me.”

accidentally calling the other wife/husband

a forgotten anniversary gift hidden in a closet

“I think I need help.”

a cherished photograph tucked inside a book

an old, faded love note found in a pocket

a favorite blanket with a small, stitched heart

“What if we get caught?”

“Would you please just kiss me?”

a faded Polaroid tucked behind a mirror

a handwritten recipe with personal notes in the margins

leaving post-its everywhere

thunderstorms

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

Pet names/Nicknames

sleeping arrangements

grabbing the other’s hand so they don’t fall

guiding each other through a crowded room with gentle touches

helping someone zip up a jacket in a chilly wind

subtle protection

“I’m sitting front row. I always do.”

cozy pizza night

sandcastles

“You scared me!”

coming home after a long day

dancing in the rain

domestic life

time difference

hugs

scrunchies

painted nails

promise rings

face masks

sunday morning breakfasts

warm cups of cocoa

late night conversations

movie marathons on rainy day

staying up all night and watching the sunrise together

building a fort with blankets and pillows

[selfspinninglies]

hi happy pride I wrote gays

word count: 2765 [<- what possessed me to write this much how did I do that]

tws/cws: implied/discussed murder, desecration of a body, not technically cannibalism but they do eat a person [<- not graphic]

notes: I wrote 2530 words of this in 2 days somehow . The oc hyperfixation is real . Also some of this might not make sense cause I still haven't wrote an experimental plot summary yet sooo oops . They're both so oblivious it makes me ill anyway enjoyy

1-2 shifts slightly on the couch. Its not the most comfortable place to lay down, but he doesn't feel like getting up and into bed (or moving at all for that matter). His vessel feels like it's going to rip itself apart. He should've went hunting a few days ago, but he's gotten inconsistent. And now this was a result. He buries his face in the throw pillow next to him. Stupid rapidly deteriorating body.

After a few minutes of nothing he feels a nudge on his foot.

"Scoot. You're taking up the whole couch laying like that."

1-3 is the owner of the complaint. He didn't even have to look to know it was them. It was the only person who made sense, since the two lived together and he would've heard the door. Its not like they get visitors anyway.

He sighs in an exaggerated fashion, unclear if this actually bothers him or not, moves over a little and tucks his knees in to make room. He would've been more bitchy about it if he wasn't exhausted and if the only other place to sit in the apartment wasn't a mattress.

1-3 rolls their eyes at his antics. They glance at him for a moment. "You look like shit." They say flatly.

He makes a small angry noise in response, not feeling like using regular words. He looks up. Surprising nobody, 1-3 also looks like shit. Neither of them ever look that great, but apparently he looked bad enough to warrant a comment.

Was it concern? It was always hard to tell with them. Their face didn't change that much. Or maybe it was clear as day and 1-2 was just terrible at reading people.

He sits up into a horribly slouched position, one arm looped around the armrest and the other dangling oddly. He gives a glance to 1-3, who is watching him carefully. They probably know what's coming. They can see the rivulets of cracks piercing his shell. The two go through this weird routine often.

He exhales sharply, opening his mouth and willing the words in his brain to crawl out and onto his tounge. A few seconds of nothing. Yep. Not happening.

Grabbing 1-3's hand, he lifts it and turns it carefully, examining the similar darkness enveloping their fingertips. He listens and feels for a flinch or glare or hitch of breath, which usually indicates that they aren't in the mood for his antics, but he catches nothing. In fact, they're barely looking, head turned the other way, pupils facing him.

They've only been living together for a few months or so and they're so used to each other. It makes him feel weird.

He moves 1-3's hand up to his mouth bites down. He must have done it too hard, since he hears a quiet "shit" from 1-3. They take their hand from his and turn to face him. "I'd prefer if you asked next time." They say, a little sharply, though they never hold grudges over little things like this.

1-2 shakes his head and puts a smirk on his face, which earns a scoff from 1-3. They get up to leave anyway.

He tugs on their longsleeve, using it to pull himself up. They look confused for a second before an incredulous expression takes over and they shake their head.

"You are not coming with me. You cannot move well and don't have the energy for it. Sit."

1-2 rolls his eyes, but sits back down anyway. He knew that they were right, though he would rather explode right at that moment than admit that.

"Don't do anything stupid." They nod and give a half-hearted wave as they exit the [truthfully] cramped space. The door closes with a nice click.

He listens to 1-3's footfalls as they walk down the hall, as if he expected them to turn around and come back. He wasn't sure if he wanted that or not. Anything was better than sitting around and doing nothing, even if they usually didn't take long.

He gets bored and decides to heave himself to the bathroom. His feet drag against the floor and his posture sags. It doesn't particularly hurt, besides the dull aches where his vessel splits from neglect, it just feels like every ounce of energy has been stolen out of his strange hands.

After pulling himself up to the mirror, he examines himself. The cracks under his eyes look wide enough to stick a finger through it. He doesn't try. The thought of it makes him feel gross.

His hair is disheveled and overgrown. His bangs fall on his eyes slightly and stick in different directions, stuck there by natural grease and some brown stuff that's probably blood. It isn't his. He doesn't have any. The last time he went hunting was a few weeks ago. Had it really been that long since he showered? Fuck, he was gross.

He laughs. Its a weird, crackly sound, but it's rare so he lets it escape his throat. Nobody was here to listen to it. 1-3 really was right, he absolutely looked like shit.

He slinks back to the couch and passes out as soon as he hits the cushions.

------‐--------------------------------------------------------------

1-3 sighs, slumping against the wall of an alley. The world is humid and oppressive, or maybe that's the blood soaked into most of them talking, a mix of their's, One's, and the body on the pavement's.

The unexpected run-in made this outing take longer than it usually would have. They don't have anything to tell the time on them, so they can only guess, but it's likely been around an hour. God, why did they have to see One when they were in a hurry?

They shake their head. The body. They have to take care of that. They didn't want to. It was the last thing they wanted to do. Just don't think about it. Don't think about anything, just grab the knife-

It takes longer than they would like to put themself into the thoughtless haze that helps with the process. This isn't a person, it is a creature, this is necessary, if not for you then for Two. Remember what he looked like? Shit, that's what you said.

Swish thud swish thud swish thud swish thud swish- over and over again.

There's even more blood now. Less of it belonging to them. It's on the wall, the floor, in the air, in their vessel, in their soul, eating them alive. It's disgusting. If they had insides they would have thrown them up by now. The world smells and tastes and feels of viscera, it's made of it.

The meat is in neat pieces now. The knife is put into a pocket. The bones and unnecessary bits will be left there to be picked off by something that can use it. They gather the pieces they cut into a bag and stand, swaying like they were trying to be pulled in different directions by the universe.

They take their sweater off and tie it around their waist to get some of the flesh off of them, unveiling a slightly oversized white t-shirt. It's cold, but they'd rather deal with that then the feeling of your clothes being soaked with remnants and wafting into your nose and tounge.

They shuffle through the bag and take a piece between their fingers. Don't think about it, just eat it, you have to-

The only taste that registers is the sharp, metallic tang of blood. They swallow it quickly. It always makes them feel sick, the texture, smell, taste, and the weight of taking a life. But they have to. It's the only way.

Fuck, they hate it all.

Taking a breath, they steel themself and begin walking down the street and back to the building. They aren't worried about being spotted, nobody is ever here. The silence presses itself into their body. Bricks in walls are staring at them, singing, guilty, guilty.

The walk is short, as horrid as it is. The apartment is close to many places. It's convenient for hunting. The bag swings awkwardly in their needlessly tight grip.

They knock on the door in their usual pattern, opening it and walking inside. They set the bag on the counter like it's groceries.

"Two. I'm home." They announce, though the noise of the door opening and rustling of the bag should have alerted him. Strange. Knowing him, he's probably long passed out. Still, they look over the couch to check.

Exactly like they thought. He's sprawled out awkwardly on the couch (he'll probably be sore if he stays like that) out cold. He always slept like this, which made it especially annoying to share the mattress with him. They still let him, though. It always feels weird now when he isn't there.

"Two." They say again, walking over to him and poking his face. "C'mon. Hey, wake up." This probably won't work. 1-2 is an obnoxiously heavy sleeper.

Surprisingly, they see 1-2's eyes flicker open.

------‐--------------------------------------------------------------

1-2 stirs, feeling fingers tap against his cheek. Ones that kind of look like his, with the way they sharpen into claws and darken at the ends. It's 1-3. Right. They left. They're back. What time was it?

He inhales and smells something weird. Quickly recognizing it as blood and probably a bit of sweat, he looks up at 1-3 questioningly. He points a finger at them and starts talking, voice still groggy from sleep.

"Blood. 'Sit yours?"

1-3 shrugs, making a so-so motion with their hand. "Some of it is, some of it isn't." Their voice is oddly nonchalant.

"What happened?" He asks, sitting against the cushions.

"Had a run in with One. I'll tell you later."

1-2 just nods. As long as he finds out eventually, he doesn't care when. He's also curious as to what 1-1 was doing anyways. The last time anyone saw her was in the lab, before all of them were released.

1-3 sits next to him again and crosses their legs, hands in their lap. He doesn't know how they sit like that, it doesn't look comfortable in the slightest.

He fiddles with his hair awkwardly. He really needed to do something with it. He remembers his reflection in the mirror. Too long. He puts a strand between his fingers and continues to twist it.

1-3 seems to notice. "Do you want me to cut it for you?" They ask.

"You can cut hair?"

"I've done it before. Did my own." They gesture to their own hair.

1-2 examines it for a second, leaning forward a bit. It looks pretty good, actually. He doesn't know if he trusts them to do it, his always picky about his hair. It's not like he can go and get it cut, though, with how he looks.

He nods, moving his gaze to 1-3's eyes. Their face is a little red. Oh. Right. Their faces were still only separated by a few inches. He leans back and speaks again. "Fine. Just be careful. If you fuck it up I get to fuck up yours." He pokes the air near 1-3 to make his point.

Something he didn't expect at all happens. 1-3 laughs. Really laughs. At a stupid threat that really isn't one.

What.

"Alright, I won't fuck it up." They reply.

The smile lingers on their face a little. Their laugh is also crackly and weird and nonhuman like his. What. They never laugh at his dumb jokes. They must be tired. Or they hit their head. He stares at their expression for way too long.

They interrupt the developing silence. "I'll cut your hair after you eat. I went out." They lean their head towards the counter. He follows their line of sight and sees a plastic black back placed there. "Thanks." He says quickly, before he forgets.

Its weird how they just. Do that. For him. They both dance around talking about it, for obvious reasons, but in his head he knows what they mean by "went out". They killed someone. For him. So he didn't sit here and rot.

He stops himself from thinking about it and walks over to the counter. He takes a few pieces and forces it down his throat. It tastes bad, it always does, but he's pretty used to it. It's easier to just get it over with. Not like he really has a choice in it. Could be worse. 1-3 hates it much more than he does.

------‐--------------------------------------------------------------

They're in the bedroom now, 1-3 sitting on the mattress and 1-2 on the floor directly below them. They hold a pair of thin scissors in their hand. It's not the right kind, but it'll work.

1-2 told them what they wanted earlier, and while they weren't a professional in the slightest, it would be easy. And he didn't need to know that, anyway.

God, they were close. It wasn't uncomfortable, but for some reason their brain latched onto their proximity and didn't let go. Like earlier, when 1-2 looked them in the eyes and moved towards them.

Do NOT think about his face right now just cut his hair it's what he asked of you- They hold some of his hair in their hand and begin cutting. The satisfying snip snip snip of the scissors echoes around the space as hair flutters to the carpeted floor.

It doesn't take long for them to finish. There wasn't much to do. They look at their work for a bit just to see if there's anything they need to fix in the back. They move to sit infront of 1-2 and look at the front, hands brushing against his forehead to adjust the strands slightly before giving a curt nod and leaning back. It's his turn to redden.

They push any thoughts related to 1-2's face [for the second time] and the contact they just made with him to the back of their mind.

1-2 gets up and goes to the bathroom quickly to look at what they did. He comes back after a short moment, taking his place on the floor again. He nods back. "Your hair's safe from me." He says, which is his way of giving them a compliment.

1-3 goes to sit next to him instead of infront so its less awkward. They both bathe in the sound of absolutely nothing. They do this a lot, simply sit in the same space. It was kind of nice. Better than being alone.

"You're tired." 1-2 says, now eyeing them carefully. They hate how easily he can read them most of the time. "As are you. I was only gone for an hour or so and you passed out waiting."

"Touché."

"Well," 1-2 says, standing. "We might as well sleep now, then. Neither of us have plans."

They nod and crawl into bed after him. They don't feel like denying it today. He needs the rest and so do they.

They sleep on opposite sides of the bed, though they're still close do to the size of it. They also share a blanket, which 1-3 often has to steal back from 1-2. He has a habit of taking it all in his sleep. God, they already know his sleeping habits and it's only been a few months.

He falls asleep quickly [he always does, he's always tired] but 1-3 takes a bit longer. More thoughts than usual bubble to the surface of their head and spill over. Some involve blood and the experiments and slicing, which always makes it hard to sleep, but a select few involve him.

They want to get closer, so, so badly for no reason at all. The thought of it sounds nice. It rings like gentle bells. When was the last time they were close to someone who they weren't trying to kill?

After a contemplative silence, they shift towards him and wrap their arms around him. They think this is selfish, they don't even know if he'd like it, if he'd feel the same, but they let themself have this. If he asks they'll say that it just happened in their sleep. He wont believe it, since they never move much in their sleep, but it will probably get him to not ask.

It feels nice, like they thought, a pleasant warmth to it all. It's also a little awkward since they don't do this often, but it doesn't matter. The sounds of soft breathing fill the silence.

It doesn't take them long to fall asleep now.

[compacflt]

wip wednesday: writing writing writing

[solacium]

coffee

fandom: genshin impact relationships: iaune & desnos rating: G word count: 100

—

Desnos measures his time in cups of coffee.

An evening cup, to end the day, sometimes decaf—but, if he were honest, Desnos has consumed enough coffee to have more or less desensitised himself to its stimulant properties, at this point.

A morning cup, to drag himself out of bed, groggy and dreading another combination of meka-induced headaches and mind-numbing boredom, relieved only by equally mind-numbing paperwork.

And an afternoon cup, one of many, brewed by him in a large french press. Although, he'd much rather it be brought to him by a dear friend, passing by on official business.

written for a prompt fill for sweet & spicy bingo winter edition: coffee (03)

[simiansmoke]

enemies to lovers + but one is injured

“ you got shot" -

If power-ups were not considered fair play in the world of the Kongs, then guns were DEFINITELY not it. Not that Kremlings understood that particular message. And if they did - they'd probably keep packing heat out of spite anyway.

It had been an awkward moment for DK - clinging to the edge of a mast-bound platform as one of the ship's pirates approached him, cocking a small fire-arm on the way. With the barrel pointed down at him, DK had scowled up at the cackling reptile, his feet scrabbling uselessly in place to try and scale over the final hump he needed to get his footing back on the swaying ship. He had no way to recover at this point except to drop the some fifty feet below to the ship's deck and likely crush all his bones on the way down...that or take a chance on the Kremling having a shitty up-close and personal aim. Teeth grit, he glared forward at the threat as it cocked the barrel, and the clawed finger attached to the trigger curled in.

Though a blast sounded up close, he didn't expect it to come attached to Mario- ...well the two of them were on the damn ship together, beating back oversized ship rats and snaggle-toothed pirate crocs aboard as the two neared their destination of a single life boat facing the shoreline. When the other jumped down quite suddenly from a higher platform to stomp on the kremblin's head, DK couldn't help but to spare him laugh that bloomed in his chest and somehow made it past him struggling to catch his breath again.

Despite their sudden reunion, the smell of gunpowder still lingered in the air. DK barely notices at first, but the slow, creeping pain below his jaw lets him know that the gun had managed to hit a target; something had buried itself deep in his shoulder like a maggot eager to start chewing and expelling a poison to burn away the flesh around it. "Argh-...you really got to stop saving me, dude. I have too many open tabs as is-" Mario didn't seem to notice first at all either, taking their moment free of canon fire and ankle-biting rodents to help hoist DK up and over the lip of the sea-salt stained platform with a heavy breath following. "Well, maybe if you stopped sucking so much-" It's an affectionate insult given by the way the other takes the time to swat some splintered wood from where it stuck into fur like pricklebush thorns along the back of the Kong's shoulder. One he probably learned from DK berating him all the time anyway. The Kong even spared it a side smirk that he couldn't keep for long as the bullet burned him into gritting and grinding his teeth as he palmed the cap of his shoulder.

Trailing off with his affections when Mario noticed the sudden shift of expression, it wasn't long until the smell of the gun powder in the air coupled soon with the fresh, coppery scent of blood caused him to put two and two together as he reached out as if to grab the Kong's shoulder, but stopped short of curling his gloved fingers in against his palm mid-reach. "Cazzo... you're not-...?" Then, with a slow approach, Mario placed his palm curiously against the back of DK's hand where it sat clenched into his fur. The action earned him a baring of fangs and a slow hiss as DK pulled his hand back to study the blood along his palm from where it had performed its duty as a temporary bandage.

"DK! You-...you got shot! There-...there's a bullet in you?!" Wasting no time, Mario leans up - half helped by holding onto the big monkey's elbow and pulling himself up closer to inspect the small hole wormed deep in the Kong's shoulder. "-and the bullet's still in! I can see it-"

"Yeah well, I FEEL it!"

The Kong ground through his grit and figured he'd have to keep doing so until they were both able to make it to the other end of the ship.

[erstwhilesparrow]

i am in a problems-causing mood, a phrase which here probably means i need to do a task and go to bed.

[minchanarchive]

Title by author (biggest font & linked to fic)

Rating | Status | Word Count (chat font)

Summary of the fic (regular font)

[mickyschumacher]

hi!! could u an oscar smut wherein he's fooling with reader, making her supress her moans bcs the walls are thin, but in reality, they were soundproof (like his drivers room post-rough race for ex.) thank uuu

𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: silverstone 2024 was a tough one for oscar. he needs a bit of relieving... some reassurance if you will.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors dni), mentions of silverstone 2024 if you couldn't tell, kissing, blowjob, technically unprotected even though it's not oral sex, pussy rubbing (?), fluff, insecure oscar :(

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: oscar piastri x girlfriend!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2k

𝐀/𝐍: ugh loved doing this request! kinda took a bit of creative liberty but i hope you enjoyed it either way♡︎ // as usual, poorly proofread

𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Oscar hated Silverstone with a fucking passion.

He must say, it was a newfound passion but the enthusiasm he had for it was unparalleled.

He could've won.

His first Grand Prix. His team's home race. It would've been perfect.

But in the end, his pure loyalty and reliance on McLaren let him down. He should've boxed. Fuck, he knew that. Why didn't he just say it?

Oscar couldn't help but give tight smiles to his staff as he ventured towards his room, completely over the briefing they just had. He wasn't in the mood to play nice. Kim Needle, his trainer, was hot on his trail.

Abruptly, he stopped in between the papaya and black corridor, turning to meet the surprised face of his trainer. "Kim, listen, I just need some time alone... if that's alright," Oscar asked timidly, not wanting to be an asshole entirely.

Kim pursed his lips and nodded. "Whatever you need, mate. Just come out when you're done, okay? We'll get through this one."

Oscar nodded in response, giving him a thankful smile before continuing on. Upon opening the door, he couldn't be more relieved at the sight of you worriedly sitting on the small black couch.

"Osc," you said softly, standing up from the couch with a pained smile.

The driver simply returned the gesture, closing the door behind him. He eyed your open arms, laughing internally before welcoming the warm hug.

Oscar bit his lip, trying to prevent the string of sighs coming out but the soothing rubs of your hand on his back made it difficult. He could hear your muffled sorry, apologising for the rough day.

His hands around your waist tightened. "I... fuck, I should've done better," he admitted.

Your eyes widened, immediately pulling away from the comforting embrace, letting his hands still rest on your waist. You held his warm, tired face in your hands, sternly meeting his brown eyes. You could feel Oscar relax in your grasp. "Hey, no, no. Don't do that. You did so well, baby. Just give it some time, hmm? I know it was a shitty move but it's the first time in a while McLaren's had such a fast car–a winning car. No one's going to get this right immediately."

Oscar searched your eyes, feeling your fingers trace the etched in lines of his racing gear across his face. He never knew how you did it. And by 'it,' he meant the way you consoled people. He was secretly jealous of it. How did you always know the right thing to say? God, it was almost as infuriating as it was admirable.

You were worried Oscar had gone down a horrible spiral of some sorts with his unresponsive expression. But much to your surprise, your lips had found an answer before you could even think of one.

Your arms fell to his shoulders, hands hanging around his neck. Oscar's lips, often familiar, were lost in a more passionate haze, pulling you in closer towards him.

You think you were struggling to breathe. You weren't quite sure. You could hear strained breathing. Whether it was you or Oscar was a mystery. There was one thing you were certain of, however. The burning sensation travelling up your spine as his fingers grazed your bare hot skin under your shirt.

You gasped at the coldness of his touch, allowing Oscar to kiss you deeper, accessing your mouth fully with his tongue. A small moan travelled to your ears as your hands reached those brown locks.

You rasped Oscar's name, trying to pull away for some air but it was as if some ravenous monster had captured your boyfriend. Your neck tingled with feel of his lips pressing sloppy kisses down the base, hot breath sending goosebumps up your skin.

"Oscar," you said again, this time covering his lips with your hand. You watched as his lust-ridden eyes flickered to yours, both of your chests heaving desperately for air. You could tell he was wondering why you were stopping him, especially when you were enjoying it so much. "We'll get caught."

Oscar wanted laugh internally. While it may have been your first time trying something out in his driver's room, Oscar had spent one time too many with his hands on his cock, cumming to your name. He knew they were soundproof. God forbid, someone heard private matters or him screaming out of frustration on a bad race.

But you didn't need to know that.

"Guess you'll have to be quiet then. Can you do that for me, baby?"

You blinked blankly, throat dry all of sudden. Without a word, you nodded. Your knees almost buckled at the sinister grin on Oscar's face as he took you by the hand and sat you onto his lap.

Oscar looked up at you, smiling softly while tucking your hair behind your ears. "You look so pretty," he murmured, hands brushing your body ever so slightly. "All for me?"

"All for you," you whispered, pressing your lips onto his neck.

Oscar's head fell back and his eyes closed as you took your sweet time attacking his neck. Your kisses were soft, resisting the urge to mark his neck. All the words Oscar had learned in all his years of living were coiled at his throat. He could never think straight when you glided your lips across his Adam's apple. Nor when he could feel you nestled into his laps, creating bigger problems than he imagined.

You could feel his muscles tense as your hand slid down his shirt, stopping right at his v-line. Oscar opened his eyes, looking at the spot where your hand paused and thighs straddled him. He sucked in a sharp breath, looking at you with a pleading gaze.

You smiled. Under different circumstances, you would tease him. But you couldn't afford to tease. You didn't have the time to. Your hands crept to the waistband of his jeans, pulling down the material along with his boxers.

Oscar let out a low exhale at the feel of cold air brushing his semi-hard cock. He swallowed the saliva that had built up in his mouth as you sunk to your knees, hand gently grazing the tip of his cock. "Oh fuck," he hissed, eagerly watching you open your mouth to let strings of warm saliva drop onto his cock, hand wrapping around to rub the lube up and down his shaft.

Your tongue swiped the bottom of your lip before pressing a small kiss to his tongue, feeling Oscar's cock twitch in anticipation. Your mouth opened, lips stretching as you hollowed your throat, taking in his cock.

A quiet groan slipped out of Oscar's mouth upon the feel of your warmth spreading around his cock, almost disappearing into your mouth. He couldn't tell what was worse. The way your mouth felt or the way you looked up at him with those eyes.

Oscar's hand travelled to the back of your neck, gathering all your hair in one hand before twirling it around to tighten his grip. He sighed as you opened your throat up further, allowing him to guide his cock. "Such a good girl," he praised.

Your thighs clenched at the praise, holding back your moan. You could feel your head begin to move as he pushed his cock down your throat. You relaxed your cheeks and mouth, taking as much of him as you could.

Oscar averted his eyes from your mouth to your face. God you were just so pretty. Your big glassy eyes, skin flushed with traces of sweat, lips red, soft, and puffy while your fragrance lulled him.

A jolt was elicited out of Oscar's body upon the feel of your hands travelling towards his balls, taking the time to rub them gently as the pace of your mouth began to speed up.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, muscles tensing while the tingling feeling at the pit of his stomach began to bubble. Reluctantly, no matter how insane you were driving him, Oscar pulled you away, heavily breathing. "I need you," he immediately said.

Without too much thinking, you were standing and undoing your own pants, letting Oscar partially pass away as the sight of your wet panties.

Instinctively, Oscar's hands reached for your waist, thumb moving to graze your covered wet folds, satisfied at the jerk of your body as he brushed your clit. He reached to grab his cock before he felt your hand on his wrist.

"Oscar," you called urgently.

"What?" He almost said painfully, knowing very well that you knew he had put off his own climax.

You winced, almost apologetic to what you were about to say. "We don't have a condom."

Oscar blinked at your words, head slumping down. Fuck. Of course... of course you didn't. As much as he loved children and especially if they were with you, he didn't have any idea of them any time soon.

But he did have a better idea.

Oscar snapped his head back up, standing up to lie you down on the couch.

"Osc, what are you–"

"Trust me, this is going to sound stupid and I'm going to feel thirteen all over again, but just trust me."

Before you could respond, you could see Oscar hovering over you with the greediest desperation. You took a sharp breath as he pulled your underwear to the side and hooked his cock underneath, flushed against your folds.

Slowly, rather than pushing into you, he rubbed his cock between your folds, letting the tip of his cock skim your clit.

"Oh fu–" you quickly covered your mouth, moaning into your forearm, teeth biting down on your lip as you remembered those thin walls.

Oscar knew exactly how you felt. It was stupid and almost childish to do but the feeling of his cock against your folds, bordering going in, receiving the vibrations of your convulsing body as he circled your clit drove him to depths of insanity he never knew he had.

He moved to remove your arm, hearing your refusal as he thrust his hips against you. "Let me hear you, baby. It doesn't matter."

You didn't understand what he meant but you couldn't do anything but fall apart, almost weeping at the way his cock felt against your pussy.

"Fuck," you sobbed out, own hips bucking faster as you chased your climax. It was hard, coming in waves while Oscar drove you higher with his thumb on your clit, moving ever so slowly.

"That's it, come on," Oscar cajoled, letting you ride out your high as he restrained himself from cumming right there and then. As much was he wanted to, he really couldn't.

He called your name, bringing you back to reality with his own desperation. You smiled sweetly, opening your mouth as Oscar's hand wrapped around his cock, moving up and down his shaft with an urgent speed.

You could hear the loud rasp of Oscar's while his hips stuttered, spilling his warm cum into your mouth. Without wasting a second, his hands travelled to your face and brought your lips to his, tasting himself on his tongue.

"Well done," Oscar said, "I'm proud of you." He pressed a soft kiss to the side of your lips as he brought you into a hug.

"Hey! That was my line," you complained, narrowing your eyes playfully making him laugh quietly to himself.

"Thank you though. For making me feel better. Before and well, this," he whispered with a wide smile.

You pursed your lips. "Anything for you, Osc. Just don't think about it too much, okay? I always worry what goes on in that sweet little head of yours."

Oscar laughed again, reaching over to grab your pants. He watched you put a leg into them before you paused, making him raise a brow.

"I thought you said the walls were–"

"Uh, uh," Oscar cut off, gesturing for the second leg of your pants. "Just don't think about it too much," he repeated with a cheeky grin.

You gaped, suddenly clicking two and two together. "Oscar! You little shit!"

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[rieamena]

totally (not) beating the allegations

best friend!takuma ino headcanons

contains... best friends to lovers, mutual pining, casual confession of love, kisses (platonic), kisses (romantic), modern au, high school to university au, living together-ish, fem intended reader, pet names (baby, babe, love, sexy, handsome, beautiful, sweetie, the list goes on and on), lots of physical touch, nicknames (you call takuma, kuma.), reader has a mother and a father, y'all are basically dating just without the label...

word count: 2.3k (this wasn't supposed to be long. i told myself 0.8k maximum...)

riea's comments: all sixteen people living in takuma city RISE UP! i miss my husband of 35 years so much, come back to me loml :(( something to munch on while y'all wait for the next full throttle chapter. also not too much on me if this is a drabble and not hcs idk the difference :))

first off... i just wanna say that i KNOW I KNOW that ino is one of the funniest people in the jjk cast idc idc!!! if he had more screentime (and if the situation wasnt dire) my boy would be crackin some jokes!!!!

you've been friends with takuma for around 7 years, your first meeting happening in tenth grade, when your teacher paired you two up for an interview project. when time came to actually record the interviews, it was hard to edit out you two laughing uncontrollably every fifteen seconds or so

i mean, you two just had so much in common!!! same favorite color, same favorite franchise, same favorite tv show, same favorite video game; it was like yall were the same person. there was just one thing you both disagreed on: whether hex code #286061 was blue or green

your argument ended up being the last ten minutes of the final video you submitted...

without a doubt, after that, you two became inseparable. in school, people would take notice of your closeness. when one of you were absent, teachers would jokingly ask "where's the other one?"

there was not a single thing you didn't do together, homework, go to the gym, gossip, eavesdrop, etc etc. so of course, you ended up applying to the same universities and when it came time for college acceptance season...

takuma invited you over, forcing you to bring your mailed letters from the eight universities. sprawling out over his lap, you took in the all too familiar sight of his room. you've been in his room more times than you've been in your own (and vice versa!)

i mean ino's been over to your place so many times that he calls your parents mom and dad. and you've been over to his house so much that takuma's mom practically jumped for joy every time you burst through the front doors with a "guess who's home!!!" so it was completely normal that you guys knew the ins and outs of each other's rooms, right?

"kuma, baby," you started with a sigh, reveling in your best friend's repetitive motions. running his hand through your hair, ino looked down at you, eyes showing that he was listening. "i'm scared, what if we don't–"

"ah-ah-ah! no negativity here!" he cut you off, pushing you off his lap and grabbing the letters you left on his desk. "listen here beautiful," takuma says, bringing a hand to your cheek, his heart swelling when you subconsciously leaned into it, "we're gonna take each other's letters, and open them," he handed you a white envelope, the logo of both of yours dream university on it, "starting with, kyōmei."

taking a well needed deep breath, you nodded. "okay," you and ino began to open the envelopes at the same time, only looking at each other when you saw the status. "accepted or rejected in 3...2...1..."

"ACCEPTED"

"ACCEPTED"

cue the mandatory silence before the screaming. "holy shit. you got in." "you got in." "WE GOT IN!!! WE'RE GOING TO KYŌMEI!!!!" you two practically flew off the bed, jumping up and down in celebration. peppering his face in kisses, you nuzzled your face into takuma's neck. "i'm so proud of us! i mean, kyōmei," you pulled away from his neck, shaking his shoulders harshly, "the kyōmei?!!!"

anyways, soon enough, you both realized that you'd have to move away, resulting in a seven hour search for apartments near the university's campus. and just as takuma was about to give up, you found a listing for units 19A and 19B, right in the heart of the city and just a five minute walk from kyōmei

and with that, it was moving day, well, days is more like it considering that the whole process took like ten days... finding cute furniture is really hard! and moving all of it is even harder!! and don't even get me started on the appliances! although, you and takuma found a way around it

like what do both of you need a microwave for? and there isn't a reason to have two dishwashers, there wasn't even a reason to have one! y'all kept your fridges though... who was gonna be banging on the other's door in the middle of the night for some cold water??

with time, it came for the highly anticipated freshman formal, an welcome event hosted by kyōmei itself, and of course, you had to go. so here you were, staring at your figure in the mirror as your best friend's large hand rubbed your shoulder, the other zipping up your black dress. "all done!" he breathed, taking a step away so that you could see for yourself. "i look so cute~" you giggled, hearing the clack of your heels as you twirled. "you do!" he paused, looking you up and down, "when did you get that dress?"

"your mom gave it to me a couple days ago! where'd you get that tux? i don't think i've seen it before," you walked over and straightened takuma's suit, as he laughed in response, "your mom gave it to me..."

"this was planned."

"this was definitely planned."

"we should send a picture in the family group chat!"

"we should!!! but, hair first!"

notice how i said family group chat, singular, not plural. and that's because there's a gc for both of your families! it's name was a mix between "ino" and your last name, since, in all seriousness, your families were close

so here you were, sitting pretty on takuma's lap as you focused on straightening the front pieces of his hair, because that's what best friends do!

"okayyyy sexyyyy," you squealed, moving out of the way so that takuma could see himself in your vanity mirror, "damnn, i look hot!" he smiled as he checked himself out, his hand firmly on your waist (to make sure that you wouldn't fall, of course!). "i knew i was fine but, did i always look this fine?" he asked, looking up at you with his big dark brown eyes, a playful smirk evident on his face. "yes, takuma. you're the sexiest man ever. just a bit of eyeliner on you and we'll be on our way, okay?"

turning back to your station, you grabbed some brown and black pencils before starting to lightly draw over ino's outer eye corner, "do men as sexy as me really need eyeliner?" a look from you was all he needed to know to shut up and close his eyes

and oh, how he loved being so close to you. not just emotionally but physically as well. like, not every duo can say that they barge into the other's apartment to steal snacks! and speaking of snacks... let me just say, there's a whole cabinet in his kitchen reserved for your favorite foods and! he keeps your favorite ice cream flavor stocked in his freezer

you, on the other hand, have a little space where you hide takuma's favorite anything. chips, gummies, takeout menus, you name it, you have it. because your best friend is oh-so-optimistic, it can be harder for him when he's just not having the best of days. which is why when you go your (not so) separate ways at the end of the day, you pack up a basket for him. ribbons in his favorite color, his top 15 favorite snacks from that one time y'all bought one of everything in a nearby convenience store and ranked them, takeout on the way, horror flicks he's been wanting on dvd because he said "its cooler that way", and a handwritten letter from you, for my kuma, scribbled on the envelope

dropping off the basket at his door and retreating back to your place, you'd press your ear against the wall separating your units, physically feeling your heart break when you heard sniffles. that was all you needed to practically fly over to his, a few boxes of tissues in hand. because that's what best friends do!

and don't even get me started on how many belongings y'all have at the other's place... like that one time takuma walked into your apartment announcing his presence, only to be met with silence. let me set up the scene for you. you are taking a relaxing shower when you hear a knock on the door followed by four more and then three more. "come in!" you called out, unbeknownst to you, ino's voice was closer than you thought

"already in here..., anyways. is my shampoo in there?"

"the one with the purple cap?"

"yeah, thanks babe!"

"wait, can you get me my towel?"

or that time when you causally opened the door to his unit (because it was basically yours too) and greeted him with a simple pat on his head before skipping off to find those jeans you thrifted

slight cohabitation aside, the university life was definitely... something. it was clear and obvious that you two were close, a blind man could see it. but close is a really really really vague word, and it's surely not the word that describes the way the two of you act. in this friendship, terms of endearment drop like rain from clouds. every. other. sentence. contains a "babe" or "baby" or "sweetheart" or "darling" WE GET IT OKAY...

and it seems like if y'all go a single day without touching each other, a bomb will fall from the sky and earth would blow up. his hands are constantly on you, his favorite places (when in public) being your shoulders and arms, and when at home it was without a doubt your waist and thighs. just imagine how difficult it must be for people speak to you both on campus when his arm is slung around you and your hand is holding onto his side. the rumors practically created themselves....

and when i say people were shocked, i mean they were SHOCKED when y'all were like "haha, no, we're not dating!!! we're best friends!" everyone was thinking: yeah best friends who FUCK. best friends who are IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER. y'all became the campus' it couple without being a couple. how does that happen??!??

however... there were a couple of people who were particularly excited to hear that you both were single. a few girls approached you one day while in the general area, asking if it was true that you and ino weren't dating. "we aren't... why?" one of the girls shifted on her feet, clearly nervous. "well... could you um... give this to him for me?!" she bowed, presenting a pretty pink envelope. you froze, staring at the item before giggling. "i see what this is about! don't worry! i'll make sure this gets to him safely!" long story short, that letter was never delivered

and on ino's side, he had some classmates pestering him about you. asking for your favorite show, candy, date style, everything under the sun. "guys, guys! she doesn't even want a boyfriend right now!" takuma shouted, even though two days prior you were complaining about how spending too much time with him was scaring all the hotties away

but let's get into the real stuff... the realization of love

for takuma, there wasn't a "wow, i'm in love with her" moment. what he does know though is that he started feeling something different for you a few months before college admission season. to him, the world was always bright with you by his side but now... it was so much brighter. it was like looking directly into the sun; it hurt but he couldn't look away, he doesn't want to look away. you're the best thing to ever happen to him, and the mere thought of ruining what you have just for some feeling—no matter how intense—isn't... right to him

and you figured it out after a dream you had one night back in high school. you dreamt of being in takuma's arms, the ones you snuck glances at when he wasn't paying attention to you. in not dream world, all you had to do was ask and he'd gladly envelop you but the vibes in this dream were different. there was tension. and it was thick. his beanie was off and thrown somewhere on the bed, your bed. looking back at him, your breath caught in your throat, "hey pretty," he slurred, drunk off tiredness. ino's called you beautiful more times than you can count; he made sure to do it at least once a week, so why... just why did this time make your stomach heat up and your heart race? you woke up with a flushed face, queasy feeling in your gut, and a deep understanding. it wasn't just platonic love anymore

"hey," you started, eyes trained on the movie in front of you, but your mind was focused on something else, "y'know how everyone thinks we're dating?" ino nodded as you reached over to grab the bowl of popcorn. "i've been thinking... maybe they're onto something..."

takuma's gulp could be heard from miles away, "wh-what are you trying to say?"

"what are we? seriously. because i can't sit here and pretend like i don't wish we were something more."

"something more like...?"

"now's not the time to be oblivious! don't you get it?! i'm—"

"i'm in love with you,"

it was like time stood still as you looked at your best friend. his face was lit by the tv screen a couple feet away, his hair was a mess, and slightly prominent dark circles were under his eyes, but... he's never looked more beautiful to you. "have been. for a long time. we've basically been dating for like four years already. four more and then we'll get married?" he flashed his signature smile

"oh, shut up," he brought your face millimeters away from his, whispering "make me." before kissing you deeply, not on your cheek, or your forehead, or your shoulders, but on your lips this time. and all the times after that too

because that's what best friends lovers do, right?

jjk taglist

@blendingcaramal @gzchaos @theamazingrain @woah-girlz @voloslobotomyservice

@kyozvy @obessionofagrl @bubybubsters @sugurusbaobei @raindropsonrwses

@c-moon20-12 @saltynanobeanie @theamazingrain @synthiiiiis @ghostlyluminarycloud

@poopyyy @supernatrualqueen @bxrbie-jadeee @laitifly @discipleofthem

@cheesecake95 @strawberry-cherrypie @makeshiftproject @magiamad0ka @ncitygreen

@stillnotherapy @oniondrip @cloudy-yyy @definitely-not-leena @kidd3ath

@atigerandabear @russianremy @ohnoitsamistakee18 @ivy-vivii @ourfinalisation

@1ndee @yourhornysister @ancientimes

[urfriendlywriter]

How to get to know your characters better?

(feel free to add your own thoughts to this list, hope it helps!) req by @miricalebabyy44 <3

what will your character be like if they were in your shoes?

is your oc the mom friend or the dad or the childish one in their friendgroup ?

do those "poet, king, soldier" quiz for your oc. im being fr

do the "36 questions to fall in love" quiz as your oc.

ik your ocs trauma have an impact on their character, but how would they be like, if they hadn't gone through that experience?

does your oc have similar tastes as you do? (music, art, fashion, coffee/tea etctetc)

will they "i only live once so I'll do it for the plot." or will they "i only live once ffs, i don't wanna die." ?

what is your ocs opinion of love? how is/was their love life on a scale of 1-10?

will your oc let go of someone precious to them when they know they're putting them at danger?

around whom does your oc lets their guard down?

are they romantically constipated or a hopeless romantic?

what type of music does ur oc like?

write a lot about your oc if you're struggling to get to know them. find a drabble prompt, and write what they'd do.

do they trust others easily or do they get trusted by others easily?

what is something your oc will never talk to anyone about? (their answer can be deep, like some emo trauma or like smthng like back when they shit their pants or smthng yk)

do they give off golden retriever energy, or a black cat energy? (or both?)

what will THEIR opinion be on YOUR current life? will they be ur friend? will they trust you?

will your oc survive in a fantasy setting, a war setting, a dystopian setting, a futuristic setting, a medieval setting? will ur oc survive after getting stranded on an island, or a forest?

does your oc like their parents, do they like how their life is, do they feel like they're born in the right gen?

if they are ever to get one wish definitely granted, what would they wish for?

how did they react to their first kiss? (if they have had it by now lmao)

what's an ideal day for your oc?

lastly, who does your oc go to when they've fucked up?

[seth-whumps]

I MADE A WHUMP EVENT: get ready for July folks

welcome to the Whumperless Whump Event of July! for your sickfic, situational, and completely apersonal whump needs--comfort included, of course. follow @whumperless-whump-event for more information and details!

Image transcripts, tagging rules, and guidelines under the cut!

RULES

Any and all art types allowed (GIFs, drawings, music, writing, etc.)

No AI generated content allowed

OCs and Fandom works alike are welcome :)

Trigger and content tags required, even if the prompt explicitly requires the content (eg. Vomiting still needs the emetophobia tag)

NSFT and NSFW are allowed, if tagged appropriately. This blog will not reblog them, as minors do follow it. However, you're still free to write as you please :)

If enough interest is shown, I will make an Ao3 collection (edit: ao3 collection is made and can be found here)

Side note: please let me know if there's anything I can do to make this post or event more accessible. Should I put the image transcripts on the ID too? Is the formatting causing issues? What can I do?

This is not a contest, just an event. The only awards will be announcements for people who completed the whole darn thing. My entries will not receive any announcements or awards, because I'm hosting

TAGGING

Tag with, per example: #whumperless whump event day 1; #whumperless whump event; and (optional) #whumperless whump event day 1: alcohol as a sanitizer

Tag @whumperless-whump-event please! If not, I may not see it or be able to reblog it!

If desired, tag the medium you used

Trigger tag and content warn (including nsfw/nsft)

If posting early, tag with #wwe early entry. If posting late, tag with #wwe late entry. If posting just for fun, no need to tag these!

IMPORTANT:

There are NO OTHER RULES. Do one prompt! Do seven! Do 'em all! Repeat the same prompt six days in a row! Switch them around and do them all out of order! Post them eight months after the event is over! Finish the prompt list early! Write one long-ass story that deals with every prompt or do a one-sentence drabble for each one! Recommend your favorite scenes regarding the prompt! Write, draw, sing, play music, make playlists, do fic recs or show recs or episode recs or book recs, fucking crochet or something! FOLLOW THE VIBE. DO WHAT'S FUN.

Prompts (text):

Emergency First Aid: Self-done stitches / Alcohol as sanitizer / “It's just a scratch, I've had worse.”

Does your insurance cover this?: Car accident / Bystander caretaker / “Eyes open, ambulance is almost here.”

Like a record, baby: Vertigo / Struggling to stand / “Is the room spinning, or is it just me?”

It's every day bro: Chronic pain / Massage / “I'm used to it.”

Stealing my breath (give it back): Wheezing / Light-headed / “I'll count, you just breathe.”

Summer is a curse: Heat Stroke / Panting / “Why don't we… find some shade, quick?”

Accidental Cryotherapy: Falling through a frozen lake / Hypothermia / “Hey, c'mon, you gotta stay awake.”

Put your head on my shoulder: Migraine / Light & Sound Sensitivity / “I can close the curtains…”

White and red handkerchief: Coughing up blood / Can't speak / “You just can't shake that cough, can you?”

Your work is never finished: Forced to work while ill / Workplace emergency / “...sit down, I'm calling HR.”

A minor annoyance: Stuffy nose / Hate to be sick / “I'm fine, I can work.”

It's going down (I'm yelling timber): Building collapse / Trapped under rubble / “I can't move my legs.”

It's just a pebble: Avalanche / Stuck in the mountains / “Well, this wasn't how I thought the hiking trip would go.”

Lay down your sword: Fighting back a cold / Cuddling / “Just let yourself be sick so you can get better.”

I'm going down (you're yelling timber): Passing out / Exhaustion / “I've got you, let's sit down, I've got you.”

Say goodbye to filters: Half-conscious / Delirious / “You would never say that in your right mind…”

In hot water: Dangerously high fever / Cool baths / “We have to get that number down somehow.”

I don't see it: Hallucinations / Fever dreams / “It's just a nightmare. You're safe.”

The whump morning after: Tending to injuries / Domestic hurt comfort / “Let's check the bandages, okay?”

It's not fun if you're panicking: Stuck in an elevator / Claustrophobia / “Get me out.”

Where's the exit: Lost / Stuck in the wilderness / “Surely someone will notice we're gone.”

Better out than in: Nervous Stomach / Vomiting / “I got your hair, it's fine.”

Well, that doesn't taste right: Accidentally poisoned / Allergic reaction / “My tongue feels like bees, is that normal?”

Be one with the fish: Drowning / Rescue Breaths / “Why did you think that was a good idea?!”

We didn't start the fire: Severe burns / Running into flames / “I know it hurts. Breathe.”

That's no barn spider: Venomous bite / Arachnophobia / “You'll be okay, we can help.”

What's your name again?: Concussion / Temporary Amnesia / “I don't remember what happened to me.”

Nothing behind the eyes: Fully unconscious / Force feeding / “It's just me, go back to sleep.”

Wrong place, wrong time: Robbery / One of many hostages / “Stay behind me, I can take a hit.”

I don't mean to get emotional: Fear / Breaking point / “I can't stop crying, I'm sorry--”

Only way out is through: Tunnel collapse / Accidental Journey / “We can't just sit here and wait.”

ALTERNATES:

Seizure

Choking

Withdrawal

Mugged

Wild animal attack

Hangover

Strain/sprain

Broken bone

Bloody nose

Panic attack

[sagesolsticewrites]

alright y’all! so it’s completely pouring rain where I am right now and I’m stuck hanging out at this coffee shop until the rain stops enough for me to go to my car. anyone up for drabbles? 👀