#hbd clear

[missymurder]

i wanted this to be done for clear's birthday and then i got distracted so happy belated birthday to everybody's favorite girlfailure

(bonus: groovebot activated)

[ghostoftheyear]

A quick sketch for a good boy's birthday. (I've been wanting to draw one of his jellies for so long.)

[victimized-martyr]

Rabbi look out! there’s a thirsty hoe behind you!!

Mr.Broflovski please… sir this is a public space… sir you’re scaring off fellow beach goers…

[philibetexcerpts]

“Rumors circulated that Margaret was deaf and dumb because the public was not allowed to see her. This annoyed King George so much that, when the royal family were standing on the balcony of Buckingham Palace after a royal wedding, he bent down and whisked her off her feet and stood her on the balustrade. Years later Margaret told her confidant Christopher Warwick that she had no head for heights and found the whole experience ‘terrifying.’ His action, however, had the effect of dramatically dispelling the rumors.”

Elizabeth & Margaret: The Intimate World of the Windsor Sisters by Andrew Morton

[22plus15]

happy birthday to the woman who ona can always count on in a bar fight! we love you cata 🫶🎂💪

[strafepanzer]

shoot your shot

k.bakugo | collab intro + m.list

▸ ▸ ▸ warnings: 18+! prohero!bakugo, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, alcohol, dubcon if you really squint

▸ ▸ ▸ wc: idk dude sorry

▸ ▸ ▸ a/n: hbd king! make sure to check out the other writers on the m.list and enjoy!!!

Among the thousands of replies, your pfp caught his eye.

anyone will do, huh?

Bakugo reads over the words a few times. Sure, his alcohol-induced thirst trap selfie was… out of character, but this from you?

Surely, it's an impossibility. He rubs his eyes and falls back into the black, plush leather of his couch, clicking your profile and scrolling through it. You're the quiet girl with the nice tits from insurance, the only person at the agency that he has anything remotely akin to a crush on.

You were there tonight in electric orange and black, stuffed into a booth with the other agency girls; your group sporadically sent him drinks-- those damn daiquiris-- and judging from the laughter pouring out of your booth, you all enjoyed watching him down them.

The one and only Dynamight downing bitch drinks? Hilarious, apparently.

The night got hazy, but he vaguely remembers getting you one-on-one at some point, remembers flashes of your smile, runs of your laughter, and your birthstone pendant hanging on a gold chain just below your collar bone.

Your delicate fingers on his forearm.

His teeth grind together, nostrils flaring as he reads over your words again, fingers flexing before he gropes his bulge. Your voice, seemingly teasing, rings through his brain melodically, but no matter how hard he closes his eyes, he can't remember the interaction.

What did you two talk about? Were you flirting with him? Fuck, did he miss his chance? If he concentrates, he can see the shimmer of your lipgloss reflecting the neon lights in that shitty bar, but everything else is radio silence.

A ding, then a notification flags across the top of his screen: 1 Photo Attached. He taps it and bites his bottom lip.

You're smiling at the camera, winking and throwing up a peace sign in front of expensive looking double doors. Familliar double doors. He recognises the gold embellishments and black glass tinted so dark, its impossible to see through from the outside.

A selfie in front of his apartment building.

Another sound and,

Typing…

Typing…

Typing…

Appears in the chat. He feels stupid just waiting, but if you're really coming onto him, he needs to not scare you away.

gonna buzz me up, mr hero?

He's on his feet at an almost embarrassing speed, unlocking the front door and sending you his floor and room number in the chat.

Then, he paces, pours himself a glass of water, and waits.

Your knock is faint, and he wonders if you've sobered up some, briefly hesitating at the doorknob. He looks through his spyhole and sees you looking this way and that, shifting nervously and fiddling with your hair.

He tugs the door open and leans against it, eyes staring you down. You blink and take a short breath, eyes scanning his naked torso, briefs, muscular thighs--

He clears his throat. "You look nervous."

Your eyes on his leave him a little starstruck. Sure, youre pretty to admire from afar, but up close? He's stupid for getting wasted and forgetting what he said to you.

"Liquid courage has thoroughly worn off." You agree with a nod and a nervous yet dazzling smile.

Fuck, he's so done for.

"Just to be clear, you hit me up." Bakugo says, opening the door and giving you space to enter. "I'm not holding you here against your will."

"What? No, yeah, I totally take the blame on this, one million percent." You agree, stepping into his apartment. He watches your ass in that tight dress as you walk past him, savours the scent of your perfumed skin while you're in his vicinity. "I just thought-- oh my gods," you turn to face him, embarrassed. "This is ridiculous, isn't it? I thought you were like... sending me signals at the bar."

He probably was, but he cant fucking remember.

He gestures for you to follow him into the living room. "I was wasted."

"You grabbed my ass and called me sexy." You laugh, kicking off your heels before stepping onto his carpet.

"Fat fuckin chance, sugar tits." He grumbles, embarrassed by his drunken antics, but then you're grabbing his hand and tugging him back half a step. Before he can even gasp, your lips are on his, your hands pulling him down to you, your tongue running along his lips.

"Yeah, you called me that, too." You breathe, nose to nose as you stare into his eyes.

His hands finally find your waist. "I didn't think you'd be this forward."

"This is how forward you were with me at the bar." You frown then, head tilting to the side. "You honestly don't remember? Now I feel like a predator."

He laughs, then, something full bodied and joyous. "Trust me, sweetheart, you're the prey here."

All logical thinking flies out the window the moment his lips meet yours again. Your bag drops to the floor as he devours you, hands bunching up that little orange dress at your waist and lifting you to wrap your legs over his hips.

You moan when he grinds his length up against you. "Oh my god, are we doing this?" You ask, his mouth assaulting your neck, littering it with kisses and nips as he walks you to his bedroom.

"It's my birthday," he rasps, revelling in the taste of you, the feel of you. It's one thing coveting something, but it's another to finally have it in your hands.

"Happy Birthday, Katsuki." You kiss him on the top of his head, wrapping your arms a little tighter around his neck.

"Being cute isn't gonna make me go any easier on you." He promises, dropping you onto his bed. You just laugh and pull your dress over your head, reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra.

"I came prepared to go down on you, but this kinda feels like you want a little more from me." You admit as he tugs off his briefs and covers you with his body.

"What gave you that idea?" He grins, palming your tits and dragging those battle worn hands down your soft torso to rest at your hips. "You sure you're okay with this?"

"What? Yes." You breathe, reaching down to ghost your fingers over his throbbing cock. He hisses before you grip it properly, with purpose, and begin pumping him slowly with your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Fuck," he curses softly, making light work of your panties and kissing you, bucking instinctually up into your hands. "I need to be inside you," he demands huskily, biting down on your lip and looking into your eyes for permission.

"Y-yeah, I want it," you nod feverishly as his fingers test your wet heat, rubbing and probing before sliding in.

"Shit," he huffs as you throw your head back, his fingers exploring you and stretching you out. "Fuck, I can't wait, are you good to go?"

"Stop talking and fuck me, Katsuki," you moan, laying there with your chest heaving and lipstick smudged.

His hands grope your thighs, pushing them up and opening yourself to him. With a curse at the tip of his tongue and his teeth in his bottom lip, he lines himself up and pushes forward.

"Oh--" you moan, before your hand slaps over your mouth.

Bakugo let's you silence yourself while he adjusts to the toe tingling feeling of being inside you. It's heavenly, but it feels like sinning. He pulls back a little before pushing forward, notices your free hand fisting his scarlet sheets beside your head.

After a few more testing thrusts and he stills inside you, his body covers yours, those big, calloused hands drawing up your forearms to interlock your fingers beside your head.

"I wanna hear you cry while I ruin you, pretty girl. You okay with that?" He asks lowly, voice almost a growl.

"Fuck, oh fuck, Katsuki it's so big," you babble, bordering incoherent already.

A feral grin grows on his face. He's gonna fuck you stupid.

"It's okay, baby, you can take it, I know you can," he mumbles condescendingly, kissing your nose gently, then your lips. "As a present, for my birthday."

He can't wait any longer, hips rocking into you, shallowly grinding, searching for that spot deep inside you that makes you moan. You're already gasping, eyes watering as your mouth hangs open, fingers flexing in his grip as your chest starts to heave.

You really are gorgeous like this, panting and wanton beneath him. Ideally, he'd make you cum a few times before he does, but he's been half mast all fucking week, and he really can't wait to fill you up.

"Sorry, baby, I can't hold back anymore." He kisses you deeply, before letting go of your hands and pushing your legs up, hands gripping the backs of your knees, then bruising at your thighs.

He licks his lips, pulls out, and hammers back in. You yelp, but he does it again, setting a pace that wouldn't be sustainable for your average man. It boosts his ego that he's gonna ruin other people for you, but the little breathy ohmygodkatsukifuck that leaves your lips while you scratch at his back is probably going to ruin other women for him.

Shit, your smell, the way you taste and feel-- you're sucking him back in when he tries to pull out, pussy hellbent on milking him before he's done with you. He kisses you while he fucks you, sloppy and messy and wet, and in moments you're a howling mess.

He swallows your cries as your whole body tenses, but he doesn't let himself cum with you, fucking you through it instead.

"Nonononononono..." you mutter, fingernails digging into his traps as you shake your head, pushing him away. "Stop stop, I'm gonna--"

Bakugo's heart flutters, grin feral. "Gonna what? Gonna what?" He grits, continuing to fuck you.

"Gonna-- hnghh!" You tense again, and as he fucks back into you, hot, wet squirt splashes against his groin, dripping all over the both of you and darkening those scarlet sheets maroon.

"Oh shit," he breathes, the feeling of it, the sight of you, the sound of his wet skin slapping against yours sending him over the edge as he fucks his cum into you, filling you up.

You're still mumbling incoherent nonsense when he collapses on top of you, your hands over your face in what he comes to realise is mortification.

"I'm s'sorry, oh my god, what was that? I'm so embarrassed, I--"

"Hey hey hey, are you crying?" He frowns prying your fingers from your face.

"I wet the bed in front of you!" You almost shriek, but he's just glad you're not crying. "Not just any guy, but you!"

"Yeah, and it was the hottest thing ever." He grins, feeling calm for the first time in a long time. "Fuck, I don't even care how the PR team are gonna react; getting you to squirt on me makes it worth it. I'm guessing you don't do that often?"

"Often? I never do that."

"Baby, that was hot as hell." He kisses you, then rolls over, bringing you with him.

"Happy Birthday, I guess?" You smile then, resting on his chest, drawing a finger over one of his more jaggered scars. "You don't remember what you said to me at the bar, do you?"

"I remember your tits?" He shrugs, still riding that post-orgasmic high. You laugh, and when you don't elaborate, he taps your chin so you look up at him. "What did I say?"

You start getting a little shy again. "You asked me on a date, said you were gonna take me somewhere, anywhere I want."

"I did, did I?"

"Mm, then you kissed me and claimed it was your birthday present from me."

"Fuck off," he chuckles then, embarrassed. "What a loser."

"Then I saw your... proposition online..." You mumble, eyes back on that scar.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm deleting that post, but my offer to you still stands."

"Even though you don't remember making it?"

"Baby, I just filled you with my cum, and I'm feeling like I'd like to do it again real fuckin soon. And maybe even again after that." He pulls you closer, so you're straddling him properly, your lips hovering over his. "If you'll let me."

"I don't know if that's your twisted way of asking me out or if you're looking for a fuck buddy." You pout.

"You wanna be my girlfriend?" He asked, slightly shocked at the thought. Shocked, but not against it.

"Yeah, I do." You smile, that so pretty smile.

"Well shit, when are you moving in?" He asks, half joking.

You laugh, kissing him on the cheek. "Shut up, do you mean it? You really wanna date me?"

"Yeah, I do." He says, heart hammering in his chest.

"Good, thats-- that's good."

"It is, isn't it? Now that we have that outta the way," he sits up, keeping you in his lap. "Round 2 in the shower?"

"You'll have to carry me, I still can't feel my legs." You smile.

"Maybe the bitch drinks weren't such a bad idea, after all." Bakugo grins, pulling you close in a slow, deliberate kiss.

[fairyhaos]

[13:16 PM] — hansol .

hbd @weird-bookworm ! 500 words, est. rs, fluff

“I wanna make you a flower crown,” you say abruptly, a simple passing comment whilst the two of you are laying on the couch in your apartment.

Hansol blinks, and tilts his head. “A flower crown?” he repeats. “For me?”

“Yeah. Look, aren't they so cute?” you sit up a little, showing Hansol the Instagram reel you were watching of some couple making flower crowns in a field.

He observes the video silently, and then nods. “Huh. Cute.”

You pout at the lukewarm response, settling back down so you're lying in his lap once more. “I think you'd look cute with a flower crown. With you and your… face.”

Without looking up from your phone, you gesture vaguely up at him, and Hansol chuckles a little, shifting so that you're resting comfortably on his thigh. He pats your hair lightly.

“My face, hm?” he says, the teasing clear in his tone, and you groan.

“I take it back. You don't have a face.”

“Uh, what?”

You don't talk about the flower crowns again, the conversation blending seamlessly into a different, random topic, but Hansol still thinks about it.

Of course he does, because it's you who brought it up, and he's always thinking about you. He doesn't know why he's so fixated on the flower crowns, though, because you're always proposing cute things to do with him that never end up happening, but for some reason, he really wants to make the flower crown thing come true.

Mostly because he thinks you'd look rather pretty with a halo of flowers, but also because he knows it would make you happy.

“Hey,” he says, after a few moments where your bright voice doesn't fill the space between you two. “Do you still want to do the flower crowns?”

“Hm?” you glance up at him, thinking for a short second because you'd honestly forgotten that you'd proposed the idea. “Oh! Yeah, I do."

Hansol grins down at you, a lopsided quirk of the lips as he gently adjusts you so that you're sitting up properly. “Yeah?”

He gets up from the sofa, and you watch bewilderedly as he grabs his keys.

“W—Hansol, where are you going?” you ask, rising from the couch as he makes his way to the front door.

“To get you flowers to make flower crowns,” Hansol says, like it's obvious, his eyes so round and sweet that it makes you want to laugh, endeared.

“Really?” you say, smiling. “Wait, are you really?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “It's no biggie. I'll find the nearest flower shop and buy flowers for you. Then you can make all the flower crowns you want.”

That makes you laugh properly, the light, rosy pink feeling welling up inside you and you pad over to peck him quickly on the lips.

“Well, hurry up then,” you say, teasing. “I need to see how good my boyfriend looks in a flower crown.”

Hansol smiles, and leans over to kiss you properly, soft and full of love.

[whalesforhands]

masterlist

jujutsu kaisen

digest your feelings tag: #dyf au

(inspired by @/seoafin’s ripverse)

swallow your doubt pt.1 eat your fears pt.2 chew your regret pt.3 gulp your anxiety pt.4 consume your unrest pt.5 endure your pain pt.6 pt.6.1 settle your sorrow pt.7 pt.7.1 purge your turmoil pt.8 heave your nausea pt.9 digest your feelings pt.10 pt.11

1ST YEAR 2ND YEAR 3RD YEAR OTHER AUS

dyf aftermath

read on ao3 (not all works reposted)

a playlist to listen to while reading (source: omori anon)

kaizen daycare! (kindergarten au!) tag: kdc au

intro kaizen stroll! (side stories)

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5 chapter 6

what’s yours is mine (omegaverse)

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4

chapter 5 chapter 6 chapter 7 chapter 8

chapter 9 chapter 10 chapter 11 chapter 12

singe the tales (fantasy au! satosugu x reader) tag: stt au (HIATUS)

chapter 1

chapter 2

side stories

genshin (mostly on @nvyzu)

life never looked so bleak without you (alhaitham x reader)

the flowers that bloom without you (tartaglia x reader)

Newest work (1/1/25) :

what's yours is mine 12

KOFI cats and cats 3 (1.4K, not beating the nekomimi lover allegations, some spicy parts but i just try to make it hot instead of horny)

now our blue remains clear (HBD GOJO SATORU IM SORRU IM LATE)

[formulaforza]

hbd my lil' lemonade connoisseur!

I'm saying blurb for Charles; him coming to surprise you at University or something?

—the nearness of you

summ. title from this. i'm only twenty-two days late on this req. that's got to be a new record for me. 800+ words.

It was like any other day as of late. Full of brutal seven-am alarms and even more brutal eight o’clock classes across campus. Half a dozen assignments due before the end of the week, a baker’s dozen by the following. 

Campus was surprisingly dead and the weather was wonderfully crisp and you had no idea the turn your evening was about to take when you’d decided to take a walk at sunset, to clear your mind with the cool autumn air. 

It greets you with a shudder and the sound of browned leaves crunching under your feet. It was like a scene from a movie—something utterly fall-ish and romantic. When Harry met Sally, maybe. All cable knit sweaters and falling leaves and careful scenery. 

Unbeknownst to you, he—Charles, your Charles—is walking around the same campus, enjoying his walk a hell of a lot less than you are. He doesn’t notice the smell of burnt orange or the falling leaves on the green grass. He’s too occupied trying to find his way to your friend’s hall—to your friend’s dorm—to you. His mind is full of mumbled directions and the pursed lips they leave. Of how perfect yours are, of how badly he wants to kiss them. 

He’d been planning the surprise for weeks. For months, almost, since before you’d even left home for the year. He’s prouder of his ability to keep it secret from you than he is of his directional skills. Carefully, he’d coordinated the whole thing with your friends to ensure the perfect surprise, and it was finally here. It was finally here, as long as he could find his fucking way around. 

Your phone vibrated in your back pocket, a text from your best friend. She was asking you to swing by her dorm ASAP, swore she had a shirt of yours that you could swear you’d folded and put away two nights earlier. You complied, though, and gave her your ETA before making a U-Turn on the path you were walking down. 

When you finally make it there, you’re surprised to find her always-open door is shut. You’re even more surprised when you move to turn the door handle only to find it locked. You look around the hall like a trick is being played on you because her door is always open. Always. And you don’t think she even knew there was a lock. 

You knock, thrice, and call her name on the other side of the door, reminding her that this isn’t as funny as she surely thinks it is. Nothing, however, could prepare you for who answered your knock. 

Charles. Charles with a bouquet of flowers. Charles with a bouquet of flowers and a big goofy smile on his face. Your stomach drops three separate times in a single second—from annoyed your friend isn’t answering, to horrified by someone else answering her door, to recognizing that it’s him. That he’s in front of you. 

You squish the flowers horribly, completely disregard their presence in your joy of slamming yourself into him with the force of every hour apart. “Putain, c'est quoi!” What the fuck! you say, and your voice comes out far more cracked than you’d intended on it being. 

With Charles, you’ve found that you don’t realize just how much you miss him until you’re with him again, ambushed by the reality of it all, of everything that is to love about him. There’s so much, so much more than you realize each and every time you’re apart. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but you’re always fond of him. The fondest. 

The evening unfolds into a flurry of laughter and stories and love. So much love. It’s like his presence had cast a spell over campus, made it all magical and energized like it was your first time there. The buildings fall into the background, nothing more than the scenic backdrop for your love story, for your catching up and calming down. 

Your dorm becomes a cozy haven for endless conversation. Spontaneous chest games and first-hand accounts of last week’s race keep you smiling, and his never ending genuine interest in your life here makes you fall head over heels over and over again, every word that leaves his mouth making you feel particularly cherished, like the luckiest person around. 

Dusk turns to dark and the two of you sit together at the dorm window, watching the same stars you’re always looking at. The same moon that serves as a reminder the world is never too big, the distance is never too much. It doesn’t matter where the two of you are, it’s always the same moon and stars in the sky. It’s a silent kind of love, careful like an early morning, beloved like a matching cup of coffee. 

It’s a short visit. Too short, always too short, but it ends with promises of more, of this weekend and that. 

You should be sad when he leaves, maybe, but you aren’t. You aren’t. You’re just full of love, and so, so happy to spend even a few hours with him. 

[nadvs]

*clears her throat* Are Rafe and reader in HBD into cockwarming?🫣🫣

100% 🤭

blurb set in the home before dark universe

rafe’s favorite place to be is inside her, like he genuinely prefers to stay inside her after sex for as long as he can, so he loves cockwarming.

it starts kind of unintentionally when they’re lying in her bed watching a show on her laptop. rafe’s pressed up against her and it never takes him long to get hard when he’s close to her, so when he pulls down her pants, she laughs, knowing it was just a matter of time. he slowly sinks into her, earning a gasp from her, but he doesn’t move much after, except for kissing her neck and fondling her chest.

it becomes something they do constantly. he adores her and the feeling of her wrapped around him. she likes to tease like “you really don’t want me to do any work?” and he’s blissed out just being around her, being inside her, it’s all he needs.

[stebeans]

Arcane F1AU

The film crew interviews Caitlyn Kiramman and others for their insight during the shocking '24 silly season. A little bit of Caitlyn's history. Also grandma Matilda was the GOAT.

This one's a long one, please bare with me and hope you enjoy. Also hbd to our favorite Kiramman!

It's Lights Out - Part 2

"So..." The film director hesitated slightly as she watched the normally unflappable Caitlyn Kiramman shift uncomfortably in her seat, coined teasingly the "hot seat" by everyone interviewed thus far. Clearing her throat, the director switched tactics. "Are you comfortable? Is there anything we can get you?"

Caitlyn shot the director a small appreciative smile as she finally settled in, fingers still twitching nervously against her thighs. "No thank you." Blowing out a deep breath, Caitlyn nodded her head in affirmation, more to herself than anyone else in the room. "I'm ready."

"So," the director began again, "can you explain to the audience, for those who might not know, what "silly season" is?".

The Kiramman driver looked thoughtful as she contemplated how best to explain the term.

"Silly season," Caitlyn began, eyes looking distantly over the shoulder of the director who was situated just out of camera range. "Occurs during the race break, typically in the middle of the season, when teams and drivers start negotiating for the following year."

"It refers to the period of speculation, rumors, and negotiations about driver lineups, team changes, and other off-track decisions for the upcoming season." The scene cutting to Mel Medarda, team principal for Hextech Petronas a powerhouse team in F1. She waved an errant hand in the air. "Usually all make-believe to stir up interest while the drivers are on break."

Another scene change. "Break my ass." Vi huffed, scratching the back of her neck. "If you're a driver with no permanent seat, it is hell. How can anyone relax or focus when you're waiting for that phone call confirming you have a seat for the next year? And even if you have it on contract, no driver is really safe. Hell, look at what happened with Kiramman!"

The director glanced briefly at her notes chewing on her lip on how to best approach the subject. Thankfully, Caitlyn caught her eye and gestured for her to continue. "You can ask." She murmured.

Feeling guilty for the question sitting just on the tip of her tongue, it was an obvious sore point for Caitlyn who she watched steel herself before gently urging her along. "Can you tell me about your contract with Kiramman Racing?" Lobbing her a soft ball.

Caitlyn, ever observant noticed the lead up but answered anyways. "When I first joined Kiramman Racing three years ago, I had signed a five year entry-level contract. Of course contracts aren't set in stone, anyone can break a contract if one had enough money." Caitlyn smiled sardonically. "And Kiramman Racing has a lot of money."

"Everyone has their own beliefs and ideals, we're human after all, even when the truth is dangling right in front of their faces."

The film director cleared her throat, her eyes observing the meticulous put together man sitting in the "hot seat". Slicked black hair, slowly whitening sideburns and a trim moustache, the man gave off an air of professional cool detachment. "And what is the truth?"

Team Principal of Kiramman Racing, Marcus Lee, flicked an imaginary fluff from the lapel of his pressed suit before folding his hands neatly in his lap. "The signing of young Kiramman had been a controversial act since day one." He stated. "Everyone in the Formula One community had came up with the same conclusion, regardless of the truth. It's a pretty easy conclusion sure. You're one of the richest family in Piltover, a family steeped with F1 legacies and acclaim, and it doesn't hurt when your parents own the team. How can anyone not come to the same conclusion?"

"Are you saying Caitlyn Kiramman bought her seat in F1? Regardless if it was intentional or not?"

Marcus barked out a surprised laugh. "Bought her seat?" He shook his head. "No. She would've had a seat in F1 eventually, regardless of her heritage. If you knew the Kiramman's as best as I do, you would know Cassandra Kiramman does not hand out freebies, even if it were her own daughter."

"Caitlyn Kiramman, from what I have seen despite the lack of recent results, is a true marvel to the grid." Mel stated truthfully, her eyes warm with affection. "I've watched Caitlyn through the years, when she had snuck out to fix up her grandmother's old karts to race with the other kids to the detriment of her parents. They didn't want her anywhere near karting you see."

"It's dangerous and unpredictable." Cassandra pointed out, legs crossed elegantly, posture perfect and outfit pristine underneath the harsh lights. "Of course I didn't want Caitlyn touching a kart let alone an F1 car with a ten foot pole. I was hoping she'd follow in my footsteps into business instead. But she's a Kiramman and we Kiramman women are stubborn to a fault."

Caitlyn laughed, posture relaxing a fraction as she took the aged photo from the director's outstretched hand. "This was my grandmother's, Matilda Kiramman, kart back in the day. My first kart actually." She ran a finger fondly along the slightly curled edges of the photo, where she sat in the the refurbished kart with an oversized helmet that clearly didn't belong to the tyke, her grandmother standing next to her with a proud smirk. "Took us weeks to get it running again. Mother nearly had a conniption when she found out.

I guess you can say racing has always been in my blood. I grew up watching videos of my grandmother, five-time world champion, and my great-grandmother. It was inevitable. I took to karting as a fish took to swimming. Started signing up for competitions as soon I was of age...and height," Caitlyn added self-deprecatingly. "I -uh, didn't get my growth spurt until I was fifteen."

"She was so tiny!" Jayce, race engineer for Kiramman Racing teased. "I've know her since she was a kid. Didn't let anything or anyone stop her though. Even when there were times I questioned if she could even see over the wheel. I'm honestly quite surprised how tall Sprout ended up growing."

"In 2019, as the CEO of Kiramman Corporations, purchased the F1 team formerly known as Enforce Piltover and I retained Marcus as team principal, it wasn't my intention to shake up the team too severely. Caitlyn at the time was competing in the F2 circuit but it was pretty clear her talents and skills were no longer being utilized to the utmost potential."

"And was Miss Kiramman aware of the purchase?"

The head of Kiramman House, Corporation and Racing – goodness that was a mouthful – barely moved besides a slight uplift of her chin and a raised eyebrow. Even without saying anything it was very much a look of "are you seriously asking me that question?". The director winced inwardly. Grey eyes observed the director before finally relenting. "Heaven's no. I'm sure my daughter has spoken about how dramatic I can be but let me assure you no one is more dramatic than my daughter." Cassandra Kiramman answered wistfully. "Caitlyn had called me the second she had heard the news. It was a...spirited discussion, especially one at three in the morning. She had been in Ionia and time difference be damned.

Did I buy Enforce Piltover for her benefit?

Was I manipulating the grid in order to buy her a seat in Formula One?

What were my intentions with this new team of mine?

Trust me, there was not one question she didn't ask me that you, the media, and everyone else had not yet thought or accused her of.

At the time, there were only two real prospects from the F2 league, my daughter and Vi Lanes." Cassandra Kiramman continues, her brows furrowed just the slightest. "If possible, Kiramman Racing would've signed both drivers but as with the budget cap at the time it was impossible to sign both drivers and re-work the car. I left the decision solely up to my team principal."

Marcus scratched at his beard, looking thoughtful. "It was a team decision in the end. We went over the stats for both Caitlyn and Vi, both very outstanding but very different racing styles. Caitlyn, even at age 17 was all about precision, being sharp yet smooth, very methodical with her driving - no room for error.

Vi Lanes was quite the opposite, very aggressive and bold yet passionate with a tenacity that out shown every other driver on the grid - very exciting to watch.

It was a tough call but we found Caitlyn a more suitable match with our team style. Vi ended up being picked up by Shimmer Wolf as a reserve driver in the same year so we knew it wasn't the end of the line for Lanes."

"Do you regret your choice in signing Caitlyn Kiramman? You've dropped her from the team just about halfway through her 5-year contract."

"Let me make this clear. I am loyal to Kiramman Racing and before that, to Enforce Piltover. I am not loyal to the Kiramman family. I had been team principal for the Enforcers for nearly twelve years. The decisions I make is for the good of the team. That is my only concern. Dropping Caitlyn for the upcoming season was a strategic move and not a light one at that."

The director glanced down at her notes, highlighted and side-noted with multiple different colors from the research she had spent doing for the past week. "You say that but since Kiramman Racing's inception in 2019, since Caitlyn had been drafted as lead driver, the team has steadily rose through the constructor's standing. Enforce Piltover was considered a mid-field contender in the past handful of years, a low one at that. Yet in the first year, Kiramman Racing placed 4th in the Constructor's Standings and only 10 points behind 3rd place, a significant jump from 7th place. Kiramman herself had placed 3rd in the Driver's Championship in her debut season. Not an easy feat for a rookie.

And mind you, Kiramman had pulled Kiramman Racing kicking and screaming with her results. While the stats of your second driver isn't bad, it can be considered average at best.

Last year, Kiramman Racing gained a position, landing in 3rd overall in the Constructors Standings, which had not happened since nearly over a decade ago with Enforce Piltover.

Even this year, Kiramman Racing is in fourth position, with nearly half a season left. If my notes and research are sound, can you tell us the reasoning for dropping Kiramman from the team?"

Despite the cold hard facts that she's laid out for him and the audience. Marcus is stubborn, the director will give him that. He doesn't rise to the bait and instead coolly states "I have nothing to add from what I've already said. Caitlyn Kiramman wasn't performing like we had hoped. Now, is this interview over? I have a team to look after."

"I was shocked. To put it bluntly." Caitlyn said, eyes unfocused. "I knew the team was unhappy with my last few races leading into silly season. 3 DNF's certainly doesn't do the team any good. I certainly wasn't happy with the results."

"Out of the 3 there was one DNF that made headlines. During and post incident."

Even at the mention, Caitlyn winced, running a hand through her hair. Normally her hair would be held up in a severe updo, today it fell in soft waves, a few errant locks framing her sharp features. While far from being disheveled, it was the most...unkempt that the director had ever seen Caitlyn Kiramman.

Press Conference - Kiramman Racing and Shimmer Wolf beginning of '24 Silly Season

Caitlyn's in the midst of a press conference when the news breaks. Dressed in her typical pressed-within-an-inch-of-its-life team dress shirt, sleeves rolled up her forearms and dark trousers, she sits at attention in front of the reporters, hands folded neatly on the table in front of her.

She doesn't look to her left but she can see a glimpse of the tv monitor in the corner of her eye and seated, and looking, very opposite of her is Vi Lanes. She looks comfortable as can be, despite the media attention, in fact Caitlyn probably thinks it's what fuels her. Her ball cap is flipped to sit backwards underneath her tousled hair, her Shimmer Wolf team polo sleeves are hazardously cut off, exposing the cut muscles of her biceps, tricep - all the "ceps" really - as she crossed her arms across her chest, the front legs of the chair lifted in the air as she leans precariously back.

Caitlyn just barely manages to keep herself from rolling her eyes at the nonchalant, devil-may-care attitude. It was especially infuriating as the focus of this press conference was solely due to her lack of professionalism on the track.

Normally the team and the drivers are on their mid-season break but since the racing incident during the Freljord Grand Prix was still fresh in everyone's minds and the FIA had finally reviewed and declared their conclusion, as well as handing out fines, there had been a call for one last press meeting.

"Vi, can you please tell us what happened on lap 48 during last week's race?"

Vi. Fellow drivers, opposition crews, fans and even the media calls her Vi as if they were all one big happy family, while she's been regulated to "Kiramman" if they were being nice. Most of the time it was some uninspired nickname, Piltie Princess was a fan favorite amongst the crowd. Please, she's been called that since her preschool days and they were toddlers, surely people could come up with more creative names for her by now.

Vi lifts her broad, muscled shoulders, dropping them in a heave. "Not much to say really. I was ordered to give the position back to Kiramman after what the stewards had "claimed"," Vi punctuates with actual air quotes, "was an illegal overtake. I was giving the position back."

The response is rehearsed, the statement is familiar now that Caitlyn's heard it a thousand times over since the racing incident, though she notes the dramatic flair Lanes add to it, most likely against her team's directions.

Caitlyn just manages to keep her mouth shut as per advice from the team media advisor but her molars are paying the price as she grinds them to a dust in irritation. She's watched the tape a thousand times over and she still can't see fault in her decision. She can't see what the Shimmer Wolf team, the fans and a handful of media are claiming. She had spent hours turning the events in her head and Caitlyn had been so sure that it had been a move made out of malice but every "Kiramman had it coming", "Can't even make a clean pass to save her life", "Can't play play fair so she decides to take out her opposition" and the miliion other variations has her questioning herself.

Her own team had failed to come to her defense after she stated that Lanes had intentionally brake checked her in the middle of the race. Her Team Principal, Marcus, had practically laughed in her face. Told her that she wasn't in preschool anymore, shifting blame and tattle-telling because she didn't get her way was a sure way to make enemies in the league and she was already unpopular as it was. She had been reminded that it was her that was smearing the Kiramman Racing team name.

A frown settled across her features, ignoring the couple dozen cameras and flashes pointed front and center where she was an unwilling participant. She didn't particularly enjoy media day but lately the conferences felt even more daunting than usual. "And the scuffle that happened in the paddock afterwards?"

Vi lifts her hands in the air. "Hey now, I was only defending myself. I didn't throw the first punch."

Almost simultaneously Caitlyn could feel the eyes of everybody in the room. "And what do you have to say for yourself Miss Kiramman?"

Miss Kiramman. If anyone was drawing the line in the sand it was the media. They had been the ones to create the divide, the cavern that gradually gaped further and wider with every passing day. Caitlyn had given up after the first year when she insisted she didn't stand on formalities, especially when racing.

The clip of her lunging at Vi Lanes is played on a loop on the tv monitor now, different angles, different commentators, different takes. Same conclusion: Caitlyn Kiramman was unhinged. A danger on and off the track.

Honestly, Caitlyn didn't even need to refer to the script in front of her anymore, it's like every damn interview has been one big broken record, forced to repeat the same thing over and over. "I have made my formal apologies to Vi Lanes, the Shimmer Wolf team, the fans and to Formula one as a whole." Caitlyn managed to grit out, practically forcing herself to maintain a neutral expression. "My actions were unbefitting and acted upon in the heat of the moment. It does in no way reflect the professionalism of Kiramman Racing. I have reflected on my actions and promise I would do better in the future."

From across the table Caitlyn can hear Vi's scoff but she remains unaffected.

Mostly.

If her eye twitches it's not to do with Vi, she tells herself.

The interview is winding down, there's nothing new they could ask that hasn't been already asked a thousand times over by now. Caitlyn's waiting for the formal dismissal from the press officer when a wave of confused murmurs break out from the mass in front of her. One by one she sees (and hears) the vibrating of cellphones, tablets and whatever latest gadget is in these days, going off and there's a voice in the back of her head that claims that whatever it is that's got the press this jittery, it can't be good. Caitlyn is itching to pull out her own phone from out of her pants pockets but refrains herself. The media would probably spin it as her being unprofessional in the midst of a press conference or some equally farfetched shit.

It takes a moment before the press is shouting, specifically at her and Caitlyn is finally clued in to the mayhem breaking out. Almost immediately she wishes she was left in the dark. The voices are booming and overlapping that Caitlyn at first can't make out what they are saying. The press officer is doing his best to calm the reporters but it's futile in the face of the breaking news.

"Miss Kiramman are you aware that you've been removed from Kiramman Racing team in the upcoming season?"

"Miss Kiramman, were you aware of this decision prior to the announcement?"

"Can we please get a statement on the latest development? Was this due to your recent lack of accomplishments and professionalism?"

"Has Kiramman Racing, a team owned by your family, finally decided that you're a liability than anything else?"

She's frozen in her seat, statue-like and eyes wide in the midst of the onslaught, fingernails digging into the wood surface of the table. Her mind racing as the statements and questions sink in. The voices eventually fade into nothingness, the only thing she can hear is the thundering of her racing heart in her ears, each beat like a gunshot. She glances to her right but she already knows, there's no one in support of her – unlike Vander who's hidden in the wings on Vi's side, a steady and supportive presence for the Shimmer Wolf driver.

Vi, who had already pulled out her phone, eyes darting to read the latest statement put up by Kiramman Racing. Her powder blue eyes are wide in shock, mouth parted slightly as she meets Caitlyn's gaze for the first time since the meeting started nearly an hour ago and Caitlyn knows deep down it isn't just a silly rumor to start off silly season. Vi looks just about floored as everyone else and Caitlyn could feel the burning of tears gathering but she refuses to let a single tear escape.

Her mouth is dry and she swallows, eyeing the full bottle of water just in reach but she knows it'll be a sign of weakness, hesitation in the face of the media. She straightens her shoulders, leaning to pull the mic stand closer to her. She may be lacking team support and direction but she didn't grow up living and preserving the Kiramman name for nothing.

Instantly the reporters quiet, all waiting for next words.

"No comment."

Previously:

The Racing Incident

It's Lights Out - Part 1

[blank-house]

HBD Jamie!

*clears throat*

ITS WHITE BOY WEDNESDAY WHICH MEANS THIS IS A PERFECT TIME TO RELEASE A LITTLE BLURB FOR JAMIE AND HIS BIRTHDAY-- this is the best day to release this and totally not his actual birthday which was two days ago okay, I take no criticisms ahdlawdh

Anyway! If you're interested in reading the blurb, head on over to this link on itch for an interactive text story! We could've totally just made a post, but a large feature of the game is the season personality mechanic so I thought to include it here too!

It is password locked, and it's mostly because I don't want to clog my own page since we're likely gonna keep up with this concept for the others lol and also because this is just a side treat so you can only read it if you know about it!

But anyway-- here's the password: whiteboywednesday And enjoy! Happy (belated) birthday to our dear Jamie Porter!

[em1e]

⠀ ⠀ ༝ i believe in the slow ride, so i drag your heart through the sand and snow

ハジメ // EVEN WHEN I'M NOT WITH YOU ⠀ ༝ ༝ timeskip!iwaizumi hajime ⠀ ༝ ༝ 1.1k words ⠀ ⚠︎ hbd iwa !! mutual pining, drinking, breakups ⠀— iwa’s never really been one to tell you no

iwaizumi hajime liked you. 

well, liked is a relative term, he thinks. he’s enamored by you - all heart eyed and mush in your palms when you touch him. 

and he thinks you might share his sentiment, from the way you’ve danced around him since high school. lingering touches, shared gazes when oikawa says something particularly annoying, small smiles and laughter reserved for him and only him when you’re alone. 

but neither of you seem bold enough in your feelings to make a move. 

so, instead of breaking the tension that seems to grow with each passing year between the two of you, you end up with other people. short relationships that never last longer than a few months, that end with you crying in each other’s arms because i really think i loved them. 

it leaves either of you clenching your jaw as you console the other, the numbing thought of i could treat you so much better lingering in the forefront of your minds. 

but it’s never the right time, never the right place, never the right day to bring it up, and neither of you do. 

it’s iwaizumi’s turn to hold you tonight. a break up with brad or blake or brandon really doing a number on you. 

“he just left, iwa! i caught him cheating and he didn’t even say anything.” 

you’ve always been like this after breakups - going through the motions like a changing mood ring. sadness, then anger, then sadness again, a sprinkle of vengeance if you’re feeling particularly upset. 

“that bastard’s gonna wish he never met me.” you’re frowning, glaring at nothing and iwaizumi can almost feel sorry for benjamin if not for the fact that he quite literally cheated on you. 

“let’s go out, iwa.” you say finally, shaking his shoulder, “i don’t wanna be home right now” 

you glance around your living room, scrunching your nose in distaste from the things braydon’s decided to leave in his haste to get away from your yelling. iwa’s never really been one to tell you no. 

“okay, let me message the guys.” 

you hop up with a small cheer, and it’s enough to leave iwa smiling as you leave to your room to get dressed while he pulls out his phone. 

iwa: You guys down to go out tonight? makki: sure what time mattsun: 👍 oikawa: have 2 check my schedule 

iwa: Like… in an hour? (y/n)’s getting ready. 

mattsun: so we have two hours. got it.

oikawa: i can make it then. tell them to wear something sexy ;) 

makki: don’t they have a bf lol 

oikawa: not anymore if we’re going out on a friday night

makki: good point. 

iwa: We’ll meet you guys at the club? 

mattsun: 👍

makki: 👍

oikawa: what is wrong with u guys oikawa: 👍

true to mattsun’s word, you come out two hours later all styled and pretty. any remnants of a broken heart were left in your bedroom, and iwaizumi can appreciate the fact that you look nice. you give him a small spin with a laugh when he’s been staring for too long and he clears his throat and prays his voice doesn’t crack as he speaks. 

“you look good.” 

“thanks,” you grin, grabbing your wallet and keys,“what did they say?” you nod towards the phone in his hand as you pat yourself down for your own phone. 

he shakes the device slightly as he stands, passing yours since you left it on the couch with him, “meeting us at the club.” 

“perfect! you ready?” 

he looks down at what he’s wearing, compares it to what you have on, and shrugs. his jeans and t-shirt will have to do, “sure.” 

༝ ༝

you’re probably four drinks down when you notice him. 

your now ex. brody? iwaizumi should really work on learning other people’s names. he noticed him when he walked in, even nudged oikawa’s side as if to say look what the cats dragged in, and word spread between the four boys quick - all realizing without you noticing. 

until now, at least. 

“iwaa. . .” you’re pressing into his side in the booth they’d laid claim to, fingers digging into his arm with a frown on your face, “went’a go get a drink ‘nd you won’t believe who bought it for me!” 

he knows who. he’s been watching you like a hawk since he walked in, arms crossed over his chest with a scowl that had oikawa say something about people will think you’re stalkin’ ‘em if you keep starin’ like that. 

still, he asks with a tilted head, “who?” 

“dylan.” you say the name with such venom, it almost makes him laugh, completely disregarding the fact that he was way off on what his name could’ve been. 

oikawa, ever the instigator beside him gasps, “no!” 

“yes!” you groan, leaning into iwaizumi’s bicep, and he’s glad he’s three drinks in - he can blame the flush on his cheeks on that, surely, “will one of you come dance with me?” 

iwa’s not the dancer of the group. in fact, anyone else would have been a better choice, but mattsun’s outside vaping, makki’s at the bar flirting with some chick who he claimed has big honkers (whatever that means), and oikawa . . . knows about iwaizumi’s growing love for you. 

the brunette practically shoves the both of you out of the booth, offering a grin when you giggle and iwaizumi glares. he props his legs up in the seat, leaning back against the wall with his arms behind his head, making himself comfortable and just as iwaizumi is about to tell him off, your fingers are wrapping around his wrist and pulling him to the center of the room. 

you arms wrap around his neck, and his own hands find themselves at your waist naturally. 

the world around you seemed to melt away as the two of you dance to the beat of your own music, swaying back and forth. iwa thinks he could die tomorrow and be happy just from the way you hold him, from the way you’re looking at him now. 

and then you smile at him, something small and cute, and iwa thinks then surely he has died and this is his own personal form of heaven. 

“you’re so pretty iwa.” you mumble out, words barely caught by him from the noise surrounding you. 

“ya think so?” 

you nod, one hand removing itself from his shoulders to cup his cheek, “very much so.” you confirm, eyes softening when he leans into your touch. 

that’s really all it takes to break any resolve he has left, fueled on by the few shots flowing in his system to lean down and press a kiss to your lips that holds the desperation of five years on his tongue. 

when he pulls away, you’re almost gasping, fingers tangled in the front of his shirt trying to pull him back in for more - 

and iwa’s never really been one to tell you no.

[shkika]

FUCK I MISSED IT hbd shkika youre so gamer.....

THANK YOU HEHE!! Clearing the last of these from yesterday oh my gosh!! I fell asleep with a smile reading them. Thank you for the wishes and compliments!!

First day of being even older is officially over.

[lostmykiliel]

MileApo & 'Mama Rom' The Masterpost

- Or why my tag for her is "mama rom is the best" -

Things, most people already know:

1. The first official interaction between Apo and her and she already takes care of him:

2. The way she sat with Apo's parents and proudly posted about it:

3. The lemon tree incident. For me it's pretty clear that Apo was the one with them at that family only dinner:

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4. The way she included Apo in her speech [starts at 46:35]:

5. The interaction at the Man Suang Lift the Curtains Gala:

6. First official IG interaction between Apo and her:

7. The day Apo and her officially followed each other on IG:

8. Supporting Apo on IG ever since, including liking every new post of him. One example (two green hearts bc both are Romsaithong?):

9. Apo wishing her a happy birthday:

10. All three of them being cute together at the airport:

11. Apo calling her mae/mom:

12. Her exposing them*:

[Context]

13. Her wishing Apo a HBD twice:

14. Her complimenting Apo instead of Mile:

Things, that less people seem to know:

1. Her officially supporting (Mile)Apo since 2022:

2. Her 'hidden' message to MileApo's about their 'smoothie vs coffee' debate:

3. Her 'secretly' liking shippy posts:

[Random side note: I like this nickname for Mile's mother so much, because it reminds me of 'Mama bear' which is so fitting because remember that Apo is calling Mile P'Mee (=bear) sometimes.]

[autumnpens]

✧ domesticity ✧

Character ◦ Diluc

Warnings ◦ just fluff <3

Thoughts ◦ modern au, going to be very ramble-y but that’s ok I don’t have the energy to do anything polished, hbd diluc <3

Words ◦ 487

Diluc gives me the vibes of someone who’d just like going for drives at night with you—no specific destination, just be with you and have your own little place to be aside from home. he’d bring along a few drinks, some food and a blanket if you guys wanted to sit outside and look at the stars and the city from a high-up parking lot or something.

if he’s ever on a call with someone else in the room/someone on his end trying to talk to him (it happens more than you’d think, people Kaeya tend to just barge into his office and start blabbing) he’ll murmur some form of “sorry, hang on” to you before covering the receiver and sometimes just his glare is enough to get them to take the hint, but will occasionally clear his throat and gesture to his phone before returning to your call with an “I’m sorry darling, you were saying?”

would absolutely let you do his hair if you so chose, especially at night, but when he comes home with a long red braid from that morning, it brings a smile to your face.

will gently take your hands in his if he notices you biting/picking/scratching at something—I hc he has a horrible habit of picking the skin around his nails when he’s anxious, one of the reasons he wears gloves, and doesn’t want you intentionally hurting yourself even in that small way.

kisses your forehead when you furrow your brows, so you've started giving him a peck on the jaw when you notice him grinding his teeth ohmygod

every so often you'll bring up a topic and he perks up and waits for you to finish, listening attentively before launching into his own ramble session that you could listen to for hours.

doesn't think of himself as a great cook he is & won't admit it but loves to be your sous chef in the kitchen, helping with the extra things and whatever else you need.

will look over the couch to see what you're doing, usually scaring the shit out of you inadvertently before apologizing

the type of person to have your hand in his wherever you are—home, work, the city, etc. he doesn't want to be away from you on his few days off. accidentally scares off creeps/anyone with ill intention because of both his status/name and scary dog energy, though that's a bonus in his eyes.

speaking of the city, loves buying you things. literally anything—clothes, trinkets, books, plushies, whatever. he just likes seeing you so happy, especially with any sort of matching things (bracelets, phone cases, charms, etc.)

sees you excitedly eyeing a very expensive pretty ring in a jeweler's window and makes a mental note

loves to just sit and read with some tea by the fireplace with you on colder nights, sometimes he'll hum a little tune as well