#miniature picture frame

[mottinthepot]

Mini picture frame magnets with pressed flowers by Breezy Mott

[egberts]

a folding tray and a picture frame become a dining table and a coffee table!!

[effen-draws]

Woah it’s Harry Du Bois and Kim Kitsuragi! In physical paper miniature form! Unbelievable, I tell you!

Anyways, I’ve been too tired to do much of anything creative lately so I decided that I needed a little change of pace:-] I haven’t made paper miniatures since, hm well, 2019? Idk it’s been a while but it was certainly fun to get back to!

So here, have some more pictures of the two of them:-)

[heckosart]

I made another tiny frame 😫

[babyleostuff]

― BROKEN CAMERAS

𝜗𝜚 THEME: fluff, domestic vibes, absolutely whipped kim mingyu 𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: dad!mingyu x mom!reader 𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT: 1.2k

⦗💌 ⦘in which your little girl wants to take a picture of you and mingyu but drops the camera she stole from him in the process

„i was thinking,” mingyu murmured into your hair and turned the volume of the tv down, „that we could go to the farmer’s market tomorrow. since i don’t have any schedules, y’know.” 

you peeled your eyes from the screen and looked up at your husband from where your head was resting on his chest and nodded immediately, as if you’d ever say no to a day out with him and your daughter. „sounds perfect,” you sighed happily and fixed the blanket that mingyu wrapped you in some time ago. „maybe we’ll manage to find some vintage frames to match those in the living room.” 

he hummed and brushed his nose against your cheek. „just… this time we have to avoid the section where they keep the plushies.” 

ah yes, the plushies. 

your little girl’s current hyperfixation and your husband’s cause of nightmares. not that you minded, there was something endearing in a 6 foot something man sitting in a circle of bears and unicorns drinking tea from a miniature teacup. 

you smirked and lifted your head. „but she’ll be devastated, honey,” you fake-pouted.

she wouldn’t though, not really. your little girl has had her dad wrapped around her little finger since day one and she was a very smart kid, so figuring out how to get her dad to do anything for her wasn’t that difficult. she’s had the puppy-eyes technique figured out for a long time now, which… she used a lot to her advantage. 

mingyu groaned and lowered his head, bumping it against your shoulder. „there’s literally no room left in her bedroom. last night, when i was kissing her goodnight, i tripped over at least three of them!” he whined.  

that was very much true. you spent fifteen minutes this morning trying to find one of her shoes amongst the mess of unicorns of all shapes and sizes, and all you found in the end was a sock that you had been looking for for the past month. it didn’t help that soonyoug bought her tiger plushies every other week, not to mention seungcheol who loved spending his money on your daughter for some reason. 

but you couldn't help but throw your head back and laugh at your husband wholeheartedly. „gyu, you’re capable of tripping over air, it doesn’t count in your case,” you giggled and ran your fingers through his messy hair, pushing back the few curly strands that fell over his eyes. “besides, she’ll find a way to get those plushies either way. it’s not like you’ll ever say no to her.”  

you could feel your husband’s pouty lips against your collarbone as he said, “you’re right. but it’s unfair that mr.unicorn gets all the cuddles now. even that ugly monkey that looks like it had been through a car crash and a bad lip injection is more loved than i am.” 

heavens, sometimes you wondered who the real baby in your family was. 

“gyu, listen to me,” you took his face in your hands and peeled him away from you, “stop overreacting-,”. 

“but what if she’s all grown up now and won’t-,”. 

“she’s three, kim mingyu. besides, she loves you, you dumbass,” you ran your thumb over his cheek, though that didn’t seem to convince him. “she’s a daddy’s girl, okay? trust me, i am the one who should be complaining about the lack of cuddles,” you said and smoothed the crease between his brows.

“if you say so,” he sighed, and nuzzled his cheek into your hand. “but-,”. 

suddenly, out of nowhere, you heard a loud bang behind you, like something fell and... glass broke? mingyu being mingyu, almost fell off the couch, but you were quick to turn around to inspect where the sound came from. 

and your heart almost broke when you saw what, or rather who, was standing behind the couch.

"oh, honey," you cooed.

your little girl was standing in the middle of the room, clad in her pink nightgown mingyu had bought her on one of his trips abroad, only instead of the bright smile that always graced her face, there were tears in her gorgeous, brown eyes.

"what the?" your husband murmured next to you. “is that my camera?” 

your daughter’s eyes widened in panic as she looked at him. “‘m sorry, daddy,” her voice wobbled in the most heartbreaking way possible. the little girl’s tiny hands were clutching onto the neck strap that was supposed to be connected to the camera. “didn’ mean,” she sniffled, “to break it,” she said and the first tears started rolling down her puffy cheeks. 

you quickly untangled your limbs from the blanket but before you could get up, mingyu put his hand on your thigh. “no, no, no,” he almost tripped from how fast he got up from the couch. “it wasn’t your fault, princess.” 

you thanked whatever grace that your daughter was smart enough not to move because the floor around her was litreed in small glass shards and you weren’t sure what you and mingyu would do if anything happened to her. 

not even a second later, he was at her side, picking up her small body and engulfing her in his big arms. 

“don’ be angry, daddy,” your baby cried into mingyu's shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck. 

mingyu shook his head and turned around to face you with a heartbreakingly sad expression. “i’m not angry, baby. i was just scared,” he murmured. “daddy thought you hurt yourself.” 

you waved for them to come over to where you were sitting and muttered a quiet “come here”.  

your husband placed your daughter on his lap, her head pressed against his chest, on the same spot where yours was just a minute ago. her tiny fists were pressed against his naked tummy as she continued to sniffle quietly. 

wiping every tear that escaped her eyes you started to hum one of the lullababies mingyu used to sing to her when she was a newborn, something you still did when she was upset. your husband was stroking her hair the whole time, rocking her back and forth, as you continued to hum quietly.

“why did you take my camera, sweetheart?” mingyu asked after a while, when her breathing calmed down a bit. 

“i woke up,” she said, looking up at him with her big brown eyes. “and i saw you n’ mommy sittin’ and i wan’ to take picture. like you always take of me n’ mommy.” 

mingyu’s own eyes welled up with tears and he quickly tucked her head back to his chest so she wouldn’t see him upset. 

“oh, baby,” you whispered quietly, though you weren’t sure who needed more comforting at that point. “that’s so sweet, but next time ask me or daddy for help, okay? you could’ve seriously injured yourself.” 

your baby girl nodded and she scrambled off mingyu’s lap to throw herself in your embrace instead. well, it was nice to know that the unicorns and your husband hadn’t replaced you completely yet.  

“what do you say we go and grab a camera together, hm?” he asked. “and we can do a whole photoshoot, we can even make a white background with the sheets.” 

“pink. pink sheets,” she said and clapped her hands. it seemed that you and mingyu breathed a sigh of relief that your daughter was back to her normal, bubbly self.  

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @hoichi02 @aaa-sia @haneulparadx @minvrsev @zozojella @wonootnoot @kimingyuslover @wntrei @honglynights @jihoonsbbygirl @uhdrienne @bloodcanbehot  @iamawkwardandshy  @icyminghao @heeseungthel0ml @goyangiiwonu @bath1lda @ruurooozz @ny0sang @luuxian @onerubii  @hurrican3-insert-nam3 @mekuiikore @luvseungcheol @thenotoriousegg @yuuyeonie @soffiyuhh @svtficsarchive @hyperdramas @huen1ngk41 @lesuneczka @oc3anfloor @gyuguys @fr-freak @bewoyewo

[fallen-crafts-uk]

[giuseppe-yuki]

pranks

carlos sainz x meerkat shapeshifter!reader

w.c.: 1.5k

warnings: a few curse words?

part of my shapeshifting!reader series

summary: a prank kind of backfires on you and carlos

picture credits from pinterest :)

honestly, you thought your favorite mode of transportation must be riding on carlos’ broad shoulders. with such a tall vantage point, you could see farther ahead compared to if you walking on the ground. plus, you wouldn’t be trampled on by over-eager fans, you didn’t have to tire your legs out, and you’d be able to catch a whiff of the familiar smell of carlos’ cologne. 

you adjust your grip on carlos’ racing red ferrari kit, digging your paws into the soft material and curling your body around his neck. the paddock in suzuka was real pretty, with cherry blossoms framing the walkway.

carlos continues walking into the paddock, occasionally stopping to sign hats and merch. a few little fans asked to pet you too, and you gladly scurried down carlos’ arm to let them stroke your fur with sticky fingers that kids always seem to have. a child completely covered in george merch even stopped to hand-feed you a piece of fruit. 

when he arrives in his motorhome, he gently sets you down on the sofa. he collapses next to you, body sprawled on the couch. “ugh, that was exhausting.” he says exasperatedly. “there is still-” he checks his watch. “two hours until fp3?? i swear to god, my manager must have messed up the schedule.” 

he leans back into the couch, and then fishes a peanut out of the pocket of his jeans. your boyfriend always seemed to have a stache of your favorite meerkat-friendly snacks in his pocket. not that you minded- you were always down for a little snack now and then.

he flings the peanut at you, and you manage to avoid the flying nut by a centimeter. you whip your head back at him, glaring at him the most vicious way possible. 

his mouth is open, hand still frozen in the throwing position. “omg! i swear to god i did not mean to throw it that hard, mi amor.” he scoops you up and pats your tiny head. reaching into his pocket again, he takes out another peanut and hands it to you gingerly. 

you accept the peanut and crack it open, but continue to glare at him. while you munch on the peanut, carlos looks down at you with a glimmer of mischievousness in his big brown eyes. you knew that look- he only did that when he had a particularly funny prank that he wanted to pull (the last time he had that look in his eyes was when he came up with the idea to put 100 miniature rubber snakes around charles’ drivers room). 

“i’ve just had the funniest idea,” he exclaims. “since we have so much time on our hands, we should go to mclaren to annoy lando!” 

ever since being associated with carlos, you have been dragged into so many of his pranks around the paddock that a glance at your meerkat form has people wondering if carlos was planning another mischievous trick. it was the polar opposite of your normal human form. i mean, who would suspect carlos’ nice reserved girlfriend to also be his havoc-causing meerkat sidekick?

the mclaren employees shoot you both suspicious glances as carlos strolls through the mclaren motorhome. he creeps around corners and listens through every door. you hold on to his team kit with your sharp paws for dear life- you surely would have slid off already if you hadn’t. it’s only when he comes across a sitting area with two familiar figures that he stops. 

“you’re not very adventurous with food, are you?” you hear oscar say, holding what seems to be a red-bean mochi in between his fingertips. 

“well, i don’t wanna be,” lando shoots back, pushing the japanese snack away from him.

carlos creeps behind lando, and hands you several peanuts that he fished from his pockets. taking advantage of lando and oscar’s bickering, he lets you slide off of his shoulders. you bolt full speed towards lando and start throwing the peanuts at his head while screeching. 

he yelps, jumps out of his chair, and scurries behind a nearby table to hide. oscar, spotting your tiny figure compared to lando’s cowering body next to the table, starts cackling. 

a full hour hadn’t even passed for carlos to get that look in his eyes again. this time, you were busy piecing together a 2000 piece puzzle of ayrton senna in the mostly empty dining hall when you see him approach you.

“what now,” you say, raising an eyebrow. 

a wide grin splits your boyfriend’s face. “let’s go steal charles’ helmet!” he whispers, just in case charles or any of his team members are nearby. 

poor charles was almost always on the receiving end of carlos’ pranks (although you did hear about pierre somehow obtaining a snake and sneaking into charles’ room with it). you swear that it is going to backfire one day. 

nevertheless, you agree, leaving half of senna’s face and his car’s front wing done on the table. 

it was a really quick process, as you shifted, scurried past the mechanics and lifted charles’ signature red helmet off of the counter in one swoop. no one batted an eye as you pushed the helmet out of the garage and into carlos’ arms. 

“yess! good job, baby!” he cheers, once the helmet is in his hand. “now where to hide it?”

he looks around, before finally walking into the gap in between the aston martin and ferrari motorhomes. you scurry after him, paws hitting the ground at full speed. at the end is a little secluded space, surrounded on all four sides by walls or other teams’ motorhomes. he snickers, and sets charles’ helmet on the ground. pulling out his phone, he snaps a picture, ready to send to charles as a taunt. 

you proceed to turn, brushing strands of meerkat fur off of your flowy shortskirt. “not even a thank you, carlos?” you say, tilting your head. “i risked my life out there stealing his helmet!” 

before he can answer, you hear the clonk of a waterbottle dropping near the ferrari motorhome. standing there, mouth open in shock, stands charles leclerc, the owner of the helmet that you stole. “did you just-” he starts.

carlos, realizing your secret might get out through charles, marches through the gap, snatches the familiar white celcius water bottle from the ground, and yanks charles into the secluded space. 

you stand very still next to the helmet, not knowing if you wanted to bolt and hide in a hole so you’d never be seen again, or to slap carlos for exposing your secret, to his teammate, no less. you knew that carlos’ tricks would backfire one day.

“mate, please, please, please do not tell anyone about this!” carlos says, clutching charles’ shirt. 

once the initial shock has worn off, charles shocked expression turns into a smirk. “of course i’ll tell people about this! you literally stole my helmet and you expect me not to expose you for taking my things? besides, it’s a payback for pranking me so much! i still find those stupid rubber snakes that you hid in my room everywhere. i always have to call my girlfriend to help me get rid of them.” 

you step up next to carlos and charles, a confused expression on your face. “wait. so you didn’t see me turn?”

a look of understanding flashes across charles’ face. “ohhh!!” he remarks. “you mean the meerkat thing?”

“yes!” you and carlos both say simultaneously. 

“don’t worry, i won’t tell!” charles says, to both of your guy’s relief. “don’t you know, my girlfriend can shift into a hedgehog? no offense, i think that’s way cooler than a meerkat,” he states with a smug smile on his face.

“oi, pendejo!” carlos says, narrowing his eyes. “how dare you say that!”

you laugh, putting an hand on carlos’ shoulder. “it’s okay baby, i’m just glad this didn’t turn out into a bad situation!” 

charles shoots you an appreciative grin, knowing you saved him from potential physical altercation with carlos. it quickly dissipates, however, when he sees his helmet behind your legs.

“right, back to the helmet, how dare you steal it! fred would’ve killed me if i showed up to fp3 without it!” 

understanding the power charles has now knowing your secret, carlos apologizes. “we are sorry, charles. i promise i won’t ever steal any of your things again!” 

charles continues to stand there, waiting for him to continue.

“-and i won’t play any more pranks on you, i swear!” he says quickly. 

charles nods once, satisfied with carlos’ promise.

from side facing the motorhomes, fernando sticks his head into the gap separating the two teams. spotting you three standing there, he jokes, “you guys having a party in there, or what?” 

t-minus 20 minutes until fp3, charles sets his water bottle on the counter and pulls on his balaclava. across the motorhome, carlos is doing this same. when charles finishes adjusting the material over his head and nose, he suddenly sees a flash of fur on the counter. it’s you, bolting away like your life is on the line with his water bottle in hand. 

“CARLOS!” you hear him shout.

from your hiding spot in one of the engineer’s headphone cubbies, you see carlos scramble over to charles. 

“what? is everything alright?” carlos says, concerned. 

“your girlfriend just stole my waterbottle!” he whispers heatedly, pointing at you sitting innocently in the cubby like everything was normal, except for the fact that a white racing waterbottle, complete with a long straw and a “charles leclerc” sticker is sitting next to you. carlos laughs, “i mean- i did only promise that i won’t steal anything or pull any pranks on you; i didn't promise my girlfriend wouldn't!”

taglist: @ilivbullyingjeongin @ale-522 @formula1-motogpfan @aceyalonso @my0hmary @mbappebby @rakshatos @heartsforleclerc @papaya-twinks @madkohi

[angelicgirlmj]

100+ angelic christmas gift ideas

𓂋

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

i adore christmas - its one of my favourite holidays! so beautiful and wintery, the lights and decorations, mugs of hot chocolate, childhood memories and so many traditions make it such a special time of year for me. i however, often struggle with knowing what to ask for or what i want for christmas, so i created a little inspo list to help me and anyone else! whether this is for a family member, friend, partner or even yourself im sure this will help you know exactly what you want (or at least give you some pointers in the right direction). these are all obviously just suggestions and vary in price so please put down in the comments what you are asking for this year! enjoy angel!!

uggs

victoria secret pjs

cozy fluffy socks

laneige lip balm

lush body lotions

rose quartz gua sha

glossier makeup

dior lip oil

sonny angels

yoga mat

silk pillowcases

litre water bottle

candles

jelly cats

cute claw clips

ear warmers

books

cute planner

posters or tapestries

camera

philosophy body washes

makeup bag

sylvanian baby blind bags

slippers

matcha

records or cds

five minute journal

desk or wall calendar

eye mask and bonnet

fluffy blankets

large candles

benetint lip tint

rare beauty products

cuticle oil and glass nail file

gold jewellery

silver jewellery

knee high boots

colourful/printed tights

pocket mirror

mugs

house plants

hair band or cute hair clips

gisou hair products

highlighters

charlotte tilbury makeup

pretty nail polishes

salt lamp or other lamp

tea bags (chai, green etc)

wallet or purse

bag charms

dyson hair wrap

your fave chocolates

makeup bag

quilt

vintage room decor

fluffy/patterned rug

new phonecase

slippers

headphones

rings

belt

portable speaker

crystals

fuzzy scarf and gloves

patterned tote bag

dried flowers

fairy lights

jewellery box or trinket dish

photo album

bath oils

incense

locket

bows or pretty scrunchies

sunglasses

mini crates or storage boxes

lululemon clothes

new bedsheets

laptop case

cute pillows

hair curlers

alarm clock

vintage/thrifted clothes

picture frames

snowglobes

miniature trinkets

personalised charm bracelet

makeup brushes

diffuser

face masks

lego

coffee table books

skims

tea infuser

reusable straw

warm jacket

sports bag

keyrings

jumpers

heels

charity donation

thank you so much for reading angels! this season is such a wonderful time of year because of the ideas and ethos surrounding it; one of giving. this winter should be about our loved ones and those in need. whether you do something as simple as donating old clothes to charity or making christmas cards for the homeless, i would encourage everyone (myself included) to make it their mission to give back in at least one way. remember - angels are kind and generous inside and out! as we plan our gifts or think about shopping and the fun things to come let’s all take a moment to reflect on how we can give back.

love, m.

p.s it’s never too early for christmas!

𓂋

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[f1byjessie]

HE LIKES MY AMERICAN SMILE ━━ OP81.

love is a wild ride, and logan sargeant's sister is about to find this out the hard way.

( oscar piastri x sargeant!reader )

━━ part five.

You’ve never actually been to Monaco. It was one of the few Grand Prix you’d had to miss. Logan’s retelling of how it was had been slightly skewed by disappointment and frustration at his less-than-stellar results that weekend, but his descriptions of everything had still painted a picture of lavishness and excitement in your mind, and you’d been dreaming ever since for the chance to experience it yourself.

You’re here now, and even just the view from the plane had lived up to the hype. On the ground, it’s enough to leave you breathless. The deep blue water of the Riviera glitters with the golden glow of the afternoon sun, the mountains stand tall off in the distance, and the grand opulence of the city makes you feel like you’ve stepped foot into a whole new world.

You’re not unfamiliar with the lifestyle of riches and luxury, but Monaco is on another level entirely.

Lando, the reason you’re here in the first place, appears beside you. On the ride back to his place from the airport, he’d caught you marveling at the marina and had pulled off onto the side of the road to let you get out and take a longer look. The boats look like miniature cruise ships, sleek and elegant where they rest in the water, swaying gently with waves. It reminds you, vaguely, of back home.

“Ready to go?” He asks, fiddling with his keys.

You spare the marina one last glance, then nod and turn on your foot with the knowledge that you’ll be here for a week longer still and will have plenty of time later to take in the view as much as you want.

Lando’s house, when you arrive, is just as expensive looking as the rest of Monte Carlo.

The exterior is expertly landscaped and maintained, with hedges perfectly trimmed and flowers flawlessly pruned. It’s slightly lacking in regards to the personality you imagined Lando having. His car is personalized and his wardrobe is a look into who he is, but the outside of his house looks… normal, for lack of a better term. It’s beautiful, nonetheless, but it’s simple all the same.

When he opens the door, you take it all back. The interior screams Lando Norris. It’s extravagant in a way that mirrors what you know of his personality, but it’s comfortable. You’ve been to homes that look more like show houses, where the furniture seemingly exists to be viewed but not used, and all the decorations are vague and impersonal enough to fill blank space and do little else. This is the opposite.

There’s a blanket folded haphazardly over the arm of the couch, and mismatched pillows. On the coffee table is a half-empty bottle of water, a book with a scrap piece of paper hanging out from the middle, and an opened pack of batteries. There are pictures on the walls in mismatched frames— friends and family and achievements from throughout Lando’s career that tell a story of his successes and proudest moments.

It looks like a real home. When you tell him, he laughs.

“With how little time I actually get to spend here, you’d think it’d be the opposite,” he comments.

He helps you bring your bags up to a guest room and then gives you a tour of the rest of the house. Letting you ask questions and answering them sincerely.

When you’re back in your room, unpacking your clothes, it occurs to you just how crazy all of this is. You know Lando, but you haven’t known him for very long. Your friendship has only developed over comments on social media, texts, and the occasional phone call over a few weeks. But you’re here, across the ocean in a country you’ve never been to before, spending a week in his house just because he asked you here and offered to help you with your love life dilemma.

Your life is beginning to feel more and more like a movie, and all you can do is hope it has a happy ending.

INSTAGRAM.

liked by logansargeant, landonorris, and 31,871 others

yourusername a pretty girl with a pretty car in a pretty city

view all 3,832 comments

logansargeant think you might need to get your eyes checked bc all i see is a pretty car sooo

↳ yourusername you have six days. run. hide. i don’t care. but enjoy your time while it lasts

↳ logansargeant i’m telling mom

↳ yourusername she can’t save you now.

user STUNNING STUNNING AND STUNNING 😍😍😍

user all three things i don’t have

user WE NEVER GOT Y/N IN MONACO DURING THE SEASON BUT I AM LIVING FOR IT NOW

landonorris *prettiest

↳ yourusername you’re only saying that cuz it’s your car

↳ user yea we definitely missed smth cuz wTF IS THIS 👀

user lando up in here stealing oscar’s girl

user OSCAR COME GET YOUR GIRL

user is she in monaco??? with lando??? 👀👀

user mclaren boys fighting over the same chick was not on my bingo card

user i need these men to make up their damn minds like bffr first oscar and now lando??? bros get it together pls 😮‍💨😮‍💨

user i think we should stop speculating about the relationships between real ppl bc they’re adults and can do what they want, plus they could just be friends and ppl saying they’re together could make things awkward for them

↳ user nah they’re totally together

“The comments are going crazy,” you tell Lando, staring down at your phone and scrolling the long chain of comments beneath your most recent post.

Some are supportive— people who knew you before your brother got involved with Formula 1 and don’t care about the drama, or they’re other models you’ve become tentative acquaintances with after years of working in the industry. Some are speculative, wanting to know if you’re with Lando, what happened between you and Oscar, theorizing about fights, messy breakups, and revenge rebounds. Some, however, are just mean, calling you a slut for leading on two guys at the same time, or a bitch for ruining their imaginary chances with their favorite driver.

You wouldn’t claim that you’re used to this type of negative attention, but you’re not unused to it either. So much of your job requires a social media presence and with your life in the limelight as a byproduct of both Logan and Dalton’s own very successful careers, you’re no stranger to internet trolls and people who are vicious just because they can be.

That doesn’t make some of the comments hurt any less.

“None of them matter,” Lando answers from beside you, his eyes focused on the road. “It’s just people who don’t know what they’re talking about.” He recites it like it’s something he’s had to say hundreds of times before, and it occurs to you that he probably has, to himself if not anyone else in his line of work.

You’re sat once again in the passenger seat of his car as he drives you back to his place. The streets of Monte Carlo at night are dazzling and even more beautiful than in the day with twinkling lights and a raging nightlife scene, but you’re distracted still by your phone, checking and rechecking to see if there’s any hint of Oscar in your notifications.

There isn’t.

It feels like a dismal ending to what had truly been such a lovely night.

You’re in a gorgeous dress, in a gorgeous car, in a gorgeous city, with a man who’s fun and relaxing to be around, who doesn’t make you feel like a side piece or arm candy, and who is genuinely a friend to you. You went to an amazing restaurant and ate some of the best food in your life with some of the best company, got slightly tipsy off of wine you didn’t have to pretend to enjoy for once, and it’s only the beginning of your time here in Monaco.

But rather than enjoy what you have here in the present, all you can think about is the one thing that would make it that much better— Oscar.

“Maybe I should just give up,” you mutter, finally turning your eyes away from the screen. “He probably kissed me, realized he wasn’t interested, and the reason he hasn’t brought it up is because it was all just a big mistake that he wants to forget.”

Lando makes a sound that you’re not quite sober enough to place. “I think the only way you could know that is if you talked to him.”

“Yeah, well,” you shrug, “that’s not likely to happen any time soon.”

He makes another sound, but you’re too disappointed to really pay it much mind, and by the time he’s pulling into the garage you’ve forgotten all about it.

He helps you out, ever the gentleman as you’ve learned tonight, and then you’re following him to the door, trying not to let your bad mood ruin things too much. You’re still incredibly grateful and appreciative to him for helping you so much despite not having known you very well when it all began.

“Seriously, though, Lando.” You speak up suddenly, just as he’s about to open the door. “Thank you for doing all this for me. Even if nothing comes of it, I’ve already had a lot of fun and you’re a good friend.”

All he does is offer you a smile over his shoulder, before pushing the door open.

When you step in through the doorway after him, you’re momentarily confused by the luggage waiting in the entryway. For a split second, you think you must have left some of yours down here, but then you look a bit closer and realize that it definitely isn’t yours.

There's movement from your peripherals as someone in the living room stands from the couch and crosses the distance to the entryway's threshold.

“You’re back earlier than I thought, Lando—” you snap your head up in surprise just as the voice cuts off.

You stare at him in shock. “Oscar…”

━━ tags: @f1-is-lovely-33 @chasing-liberosis @405rry @aquangxl @bellezaycafe @peqch-pie @formulaal

━━ a/n: tada! i have the rest of this fic entirely planned out from here and i am so excited to get to the juicy parts finally! hope you all enjoy!

[ninibeingdelulu]

A kid’s dream ✧

Plot: You find 5 years old Bachira playing alone, so you decide to join him.

A/N: Can I say im proud of this post ? Cause I am. Oh and if you didn’t understand you’re a kid too, like the same age as him.

The late afternoon light cast a warm, honeyed glow across the empty sandbox, creating wispy shadows that danced and flickered playfully with the faintest breeze.

A chubby-cheeked little boy with a tousled mop of messy black curls bounded around the sun-dappled area, kicking a battered soccer ball in exaggerated, uncoordinated motions.

Despite his cherubic features and bright sapphire eyes sparkling with pure glee, something melancholic emanated from the small figure.

A cloud of perpetual isolation, as if the tiny boy orbited on a plane just adjacent to all his peers - forever the outsider peering in.

"Haha! Did you see that shot?!"

Meguru shouted to no one in particular, tiny chest heaving from exertion as he beamed proudly at the ball now rolling to a stop several feet away.

Before he could race after it again, a soft voice piped up from behind causing the young boy to pivot with those big doe eyes blown wide.

"Whatcha doin'?"

You toddled across the sandy pit, downy hair ruffled by the balmly zephyrs tickling your round cheeks.

Despite the cherubic picture of innocence you painted, Meguru immediately bristled - shoulders hunching as if bracing for the inevitable round of mockery that always accompanied any overtures at friendly interaction.

He lifted a chubby arm to vigorously rub at his button nose, regarding you with open suspicion laced through those crystal azure pools.

"Um...playin' soccer?"

A puzzled nose-wrinkle creased your brow at Meguru's inexplicable wariness to so simple an inquiry.

"All by yourself?"

The little boy merely nodded, muddy cleats scuffing the sand as he shuffled in place - clearly prepared for the teasing jabs that typically followed such observations from other kids.

Realizing he wasn't going to supply any additional details unprompted, you simply traipsed nearer, wide-eyed with youthful curiosity.

"But that seems lonely..." You cocked your head to one side, round features scrunched in consternation.

"Do you wanna play together? I'm not very good yet, but I can try!"

Meguru froze, mouth parting with unspoken surprise at your words - so averse to the ugly responses long imprinted on his young psyche.

Was this some cruel joke? A setup to deliver an even more brutal punchline mocking his desires for friendship?

Frantically his gaze searched yours for any trace of trickery or meanness, finding only the most openly earnest and disarmingly sweet expression mirrored back at him.

You simply waited, clumsily fidgeting with the hem of your shirt as minutes ticked by suspended in breathless hope.

That strange, untapped warmth began radiating through Meguru's tiny chest as the reality cemented in his mind. Not only did you wish to play with him...but there was no scorn or malice in your proposition whatsoever!

Within seconds, his whole demeanor transformed in a blinding shift as happiness and disbelieving joy erased all lingering uncertainty.

Scrambling closer to you, the little boy's sun-kissed features split in a megawatt grin of purest elation so overflowing, it seemed to eclipse his entire miniature frame.

Those big sapphire eyes sparkled like crystalline dewdrops, all radiant hope and heart-bursting affection.

Eagerly Meguru reached for your hand, bouncing on the balls of his tiny feet with infectious enthusiasm.

"Yeah!! Yeah, I wanna play together!!"

He squeezed your fingers tight, as if trying to fuse your joined souls into an adamant tether even at this tender age.

Giggling at his exuberance, you gave a reciprocating squeeze as the two of you tumbled onto the sand in a whirl of kicking legs and peals of carefree, tinkling laughter.

Any apprehension evaporated in the golden warmth of this newly-forged comradeship encircling you both in its glow.

For Meguru, it was as if the universe itself had rewarded his earnest desires with the ultimate miracle - a friend, one who could see the boundless depths of his spirit beyond cold, callous judgements.

In those fleeting moments, the young striker felt buoyantly weightless and complete, untethered by solitude for the first time in his short life so far.

His whole world shifted onto an exciting new axis the instant you graced it with simple, radiant innocence and acceptance. In that moment, nothing else in existence could touch him but the breathtaking potential for adventure and belonging stretching into the horizon...

[seventeenreasonswhy]

Super Shy ~ A JWW School-Life Romance Pt. 3

Star Athlete!Wonwoo x Shy Wallflower!Reader

Jeon Wonwoo... THE Jeon Wonwoo is... paying attention to you!?

~1.5k words

Read Part 1 + Part 2

Series content: fluff, first crush plot line, school-life anime vibes, slow burn/yearning, some light angst, classmates to friends to lovers, fem reader, reader is ~*super shy*~ and has low self-esteem, reader is kind of bullied (?), sweetie pie Wonwoo, appearances by Choi Hansol and more!, all characters are in high school so no explicit content (but probably kissing eventually).

My Masterlist

Author’s note: Thank you to everyone who has read, reblogged, and liked this little series so far! This part reveals more about Y/N’s interests and talents, which she’s afraid to share because she is insecure! But not for long with sweet Jeon Wonwoo around. Also she has a fictional younger sister named Daehee (not after anyone in particular, I just like that name). 😉 These two are so innocent and cute, I’m having such fun writing them! Enjoy!!

Taglist: @clownprincehoeshi @soffiyuhh  @wonwoos-wineparty @hamji-hae @junniesoleilkth @seokqt @haniinah @yangtyunhannie @cherrylovescheol @lukeys-giggle @cookiearmy @sojuxxi  @vixensss @lixisoul99 @mjpark15 @lelsforlino  @neivivenaj  @blvkkeddcc (lmk if you want to be tagged!)

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+

“Whoa you’re going all out on that, Y/N—”

Your younger sister, Daehee, had come down for breakfast with her bangs still in curlers, wearing her school uniform shirt over her Hello Kitty pajama pants. She was watching you as you concentrated on preparing various dishes at the stove. A thin omelet, grilled shishito peppers, vegetable tempura; it was pretty simple stuff, but you’d developed an urge to create aesthetically pleasing lunches these days.

You couldn’t really explain it, although somewhere in your heart you knew it probably had something to do with Jeon Wonwoo.

For the past week, Jean Wonwoo had been spending lunch on the roof alone with you.

The two of you barely exchanged words, really. Your longest conversation probably lasted only a few minutes. But not for Wonwoo’s lack of trying! You still wondered why he was spending his lunchtime up there at all—even more so why would he keep trying to strike up conversations with you? You guessed he really was just that nice. But every time you were around him you couldn’t help clamming up somehow.

“Are you in any clubs, Y/N?” he’d asked you the other day, between bites of his kimbap.

“Uh, no...” you answered quietly, your nerves frazzled from your total lack of conversational skills.

“None of them appeal to you?”

“Uh, not really that...” you didn’t know how to answer him. You’d ended up just looking at him blankly, like a fool. However, nothing in his facial expression or his tone made you feel like you had to necessarily come up with an answer... But his gaze was intent, and you found it hard to hold onto for more than about three seconds.

“What do you do for fun? To relax?” he followed up breezily, “You’re the class mystery.”

“Um,” the odd self-consciousness you felt at being called ‘the class mystery’ aside, you couldn’t really think of anything to say to him.

Actually, there was one thing that came to mind... but it wasn’t something you’d ever shared with anyone. Your one ‘hobby.’ Though to you it felt more like... squeezing a stress ball. It was what you did when you needed to turn your brain off.

He wants to know what I do to relax?

You couldn’t say what compelled you, but you pulled out your phone and found the photo album you had saved of your miniature paintings.

You worked with acrylic paint on very small canvasses, using very fine, small brushes to create miniature floral designs, portraits, landscapes... Your style was incredibly detailed. You had hundreds of tiny canvasses in little boxes and frames all over your room. You took pictures of most of these tiny paintings when you finished. You had even recorded a couple of time-lapse videos, showing you creating them in fast motion. You’d never felt compelled to create a social media account to display or monetize them, though. You painted because it was what you had done since you were a preteen—the careful, methodical process of dabbing tiny paintbrushes into your carefully mixed colors, getting the tone and shading of a poppy flower’s petal on a tiny scale just right... For you, creating these paintings was like a meditative practice.

By some stroke of inspiration—or insanity—you handed your phone to Wonwoo. His face became visibly more curious as he took your phone carefully in his hands.

“Wowwww,” Wonwoo said, holding the screen closer to his face. He seemed absorbed in your phone—you even caught him zoom in on a few pictures. You could tell he was looking carefully through the album.

“You’re crazy talented!” he said after a while. He sounded genuinely impressed.

“No, haha,” you somehow laughed, coughed, and gasped at the same time, your heart accelerating out of embarrassment from his compliment.

“No, seriously—Y/N, these are really incredible!” he said. “They’re so detailed, and they’re so small! How do you even do that!?” His eyes were glued to your phone screen. A part of you was screaming inside, why on earth you would show these to him!? and urging you to snatch your phone right out of his hand, throw it over the side of the building even. You couldn’t believe that Wonwoo was seeing this, this... habit. And YOU had been the one to show him, of all things!

“I wouldn’t say they’re ‘incredible,’” you said, filling up with more and more anxiety over coming off as bragging or crossing some social boundary that you shouldn’t have crossed.

Wonwoo finally looked up from the screen, looking directly at you instead. You still couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, but you felt his eyes on you. After a long pause, you dared to glance up at him...

But he quickly looked away from you.

Ugh, I’m probably making him feel like he has to be super nice or something...

“Oh, whoa—a time-lapse?” He said, quickly recovering from the somewhat awkward moment when your eyes had met. But his stumbling across the most recent time-lapse video that you’d made prompted you to snap out of your reverie and bolt to grab your phone out of Wonwoo’s hands.

“Ah, don’t watch that!” you lunged for your phone, but Wonwoo reflexively pulled his hand away, surprised by your reaction but still effortlessly dodging your attempt. He smirked down at you, and your heart almost stopped.

“Why not?” he said, and the deep resonance of his voice made you realize how close your bodies were—you were practically sprawled over him after reaching for your phone, his face just inches from yours...

Your whole body seemed to flush a deep shade of red before you catapulted backward away from him. You could have sworn that you saw that Wonwoo smiling to himself, but you were so flustered and anxious about the way you’d completely invaded his personal space that you couldn’t think straight.

“I won’t watch it,” he said light-heartedly, smiling at you as he tossed your phone back to you. “But you are super talented, Y/N. Painting is such a unique skill, too.”

And just like that, he went back to eating his kimbap like nothing had happened. His relaxed, friendly tone mercifully neutralized the atmosphere, but you just stood there clutching your phone to your chest.

“It’s not that I’m embarrassed,” you started, even though you couldn’t look Wonwoo in the eye, “It’s just—I’ve never shared these paintings with anyone except my family...” Your heart kind of ached for some reason as you said this to Wonwoo, who just continued to look at you in silence. What on earth had compelled you to share that with him?

Agh, say something! You willed for this pause in conversation pass, but it didn’t seem to be budging.

“Thank you for showing me,” Wonwoo said at last. His low, gentle voice seemed to shoot directly into your bloodstream, flushing you an even deeper shade of red than you thought was humanly possible. You looked at him briefly, and something about the way he was looking back at you...  

The moment had played over and over again like a movie in your head for the past few days. The directness of his gaze. The rich, sincere quality of his voice. The way he’d smiled to himself... you couldn’t stop thinking of that particular lunch hour.

Standing at the kitchen counter, Daehee watched you dip veggies in tempura batter and toss them in the pot of hot oil on the stove. You let your mind run through the questions it had been asking all week: why was he spending time with you like this? Did he lose a bet? Is there some kind of hidden camera prank you should be wary of? More than that, why was he being so nice?

“Hellooo, earth to Y/N! I said you’re really going to town on your lunches these days,” Daehee tried again to get a rise out of you.

“Oh,” you said, taking the last piece of tempura squash out of the oil. “I just like experimenting.” You weren’t lying, exactly—you did like exploring all kinds of different food and dishes. Cooking was fun to you, different from the calm of painting.

You would be lying if you said that an added bonus wasn’t Wonwoo noticing and complimenting your work.

You liked it when he praised you. It felt like he meant it.

No one could be that good at faking sincerity, could they?

You couldn’t help but hear that small voice in the back of your head, doubting Wonwoo’s intentions.

But he hadn’t done anything other than come up to the roof during lunch this week, mostly just eating in silence with you—the two of you simply looking out at the sky...

But after you had shown him your paintings...

Maybe it was since then that you had started to put more effort into your lunches.

[pityroadart]

👁 CUSTOM EYE PAINTING COMMISSIONS 👁

Realised I'm gonna have too much month at the end of my money, BUT I have time to take on a handful of eye commissions - something I've not offered publicly for over a year!

I WILL PAINT:

your favourite F1 or sports person; Star Trek or Good Omens characters; your favourite film or TV show blorbo(s); yourself and/or your partner/friend/family member etc; in short, any eye you fancy!

I REQUIRE:

clear reference(s) that include the whole eye & eyebrow — ideally high res or close-ups if from TV/film, multiple references are always helpful if it's a person/character I'm not familiar with. I'm always down to help find references!

if taking your own references, please use the back camera (rather than selfie camera) of your phone, and take pictures in natural light (stand near a window ideally)

YOU WILL RECIEVE:

the physical painting AND a digital copy for personal use (as an icon, etc although I appreciate credit if posting online).

Paper options:

2.5 x 3.75" rectangle on smooth (hot press) or lightly textured (cold press) paper

approx. 3.5" square on smooth (hot press) or lightly textured (cold press) paper

custom size paper if you have a miniature frame/locket/etc you'd like to fill (I will paint to a rectangle/square size and you can trim the painting to fit)

Left: cold press (textured) subtle natural paper texture shows up watercolour granulation better. Right: hot press (smooth) gives smoother washes.

All paintings created using professional grade watercolours with a high lightfastness.

PRICE:

1 eye - £15 (plus shipping)

discounts available for sets of 2/3/4/etc

payment required upfront before I start work on your painting

payment via PayPal

TURNAROUND TIME:

on average 1-2 weeks, although provided I have the free time I usually get them done within a couple days and sent out within a week. Feel free to ask if you have a specific deadline and I'll see what I can do

SHIPPING:

paintings will be shipped as a 'large letter' meaning shipping costs should be reasonable (on average £5 - £8, but actual cost depends on your country). Happy to ship internationally wherever I'm able. I am based in the UK.

TO ORDER:

shoot me a message (DM) on here!

ANY FURTHER QUESTIONS:

comment or send me a message/ask!

PLEASE NOTE:

these paintings work slightly differently to traditional commissions in that, since it normally takes me one sitting to paint them, I won't be asking for approval after every step. Instead it works as follows:

We decide on an eye and find references; confirm paper, colour palette, etc

I do the rough pencil sketch and show you to confirm

I paint the eye

Ta-dah! You recieve your painting

[wonderlanddreamer]

Busy Being Shelbys.

[1919] Garrison Lane, Birmingham.

In the shadow of giants, six year old Lydia Shelby proves that courage comes in all sizes.

[Part of The Lydia Saga]

The cobbled streets of Small Heath were alive with the sounds of a bustling day, a cacophony that painted a vivid picture of daily life in this vibrant part of Birmingham. Market vendors bellowed their wares from behind wooden stalls, their voices competing with one another in a bid to attract customers. Freshly baked bread, ripe fruits, and an array of colourful fabrics were just some of the treasures on display. The air was thick with the mingling scents of fresh produce, roasted meats, and the occasional whiff of coal smoke from a distant factory.

Children darted through the maze of adults, their laughter ringing out like the sweetest music. They played games of tag and hide-and-seek, their joy unburdened by the worries of the adult world. The rhythmic clip-clop of horse-drawn carriages added a steady beat to the day's soundtrack, while the faint clink of glasses and the murmur of conversation drifted from the open door of the Garrison Pub, where patrons sought respite and camaraderie.

Among the children was Lydia Shelby, a striking figure with her bright blue eyes and unruly dark hair that framed her face in wild, untamed waves. She was a miniature replica of her older brothers, though her features still retained the softness of childhood that had long since been etched away by the harsh realities of life for her siblings.

Lydia was lost in her game of hopscotch, her delicate leather shoes tapping out a rhythmic pattern against the uneven cobblestones. Each leap and skip seemed to lift her further into a world of her own making, where the only things that mattered were the chalk-drawn squares and the simple joy of play. Her giggles rang out like tiny bells, echoing down the narrow street and adding a layer of innocence to the otherwise gritty surroundings.

The market's vibrant noise began to fade as an unspoken tension gripped the air. Conversations stilled, and the clatter of commerce dulled to a murmur. Heads turned and eyes widened as a sleek black car, polished to a mirror shine, rolled to a stop in front of the Garrison Pub. The vehicle, an imposing presence amidst the horse-drawn carts and pedestrian traffic, seemed to absorb the light, casting an eerie shadow over the cobblestones.

A hush fell over the street, the silence broken only by the creak of the car door as it opened. Billy Kimber emerged first, his sharp suit impeccably tailored, accentuating his lean, muscular frame. His eyes, cold and calculating, swept across the scene with the precision of a hawk. He moved with the confidence of a man who knew he commanded respect, his very presence a silent threat.

Behind him, his men followed, each one a mirror of their leader’s predatory demeanor. They fanned out, creating a semi-circle that seemed to cordon off the area, their eyes scanning for any sign of the Shelbys. Kimber's face was a mask of determination, his jaw set as he prepared to confront his rivals. The air seemed to thicken with each step they took, the tension rising like a gathering storm.

Lydia, oblivious to the shift in the atmosphere, continued her game. Her small figure, clad in a simple dress, darted from square to square, her laughter a stark contrast to the growing unease that enveloped the street. She was a picture of pure, untainted joy, her world still untouched by the darker elements that lurked in the shadows of Small Heath.

Kimber’s gaze landed on Lydia, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Lydia looked up from her hopscotch grid as the long, dark shadows of Kimber and his men fell over her game, casting a chill despite the warm day. Her bright blue eyes blinked up at the unfamiliar faces, her expression more curious than afraid. Her unruly hair bounced as she straightened up.

Billy Kimber, sensing the girl's defiance, allowed a slow, amused smirk to spread across his face. He crouched down slightly, bringing his sharp, predatory eyes level with Lydia's. "Well, well, what do we have here?" he drawled, his voice dripping with condescension. "A little girl all alone."

Lydia’s eyes narrowed slightly, her stance shifting as she planted her small hands firmly on her hips, a stance that was unmistakably Shelby. Despite her tender age, there was a steely resolve in her gaze, a flicker of the same fire that burned in her older brothers. She tilted her chin up defiantly. "I'm not alone," she said firmly, her voice steady and clear. "My brothers are inside."

Her unwavering gaze unsettled some of Kimber's men, their eyes darting between the girl and their leader. But Billy Kimber was not so easily intimidated, especially not by a child. He crouched down to her level, his eyes narrowing to scrutinize her more closely. "Do you know who I am, little girl?" he asked, his voice a low growl that usually elicited immediate submission.

Lydia nodded without hesitation. "You're Billy Kimber," she stated simply, her tone devoid of the fear that usually accompanied his name. "You run the races."

Kimber's smirk widened, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "That's right. And do you know why I'm here?"

Lydia shrugged, a gesture so casual it bordered on insolent, her small shoulders lifting and falling as if to say that his presence was of little consequence to her. "You're probably looking for my brothers. But they're busy."

One of Kimber's men chuckled, but it was a nervous, hesitant sound, the laughter of someone unsure whether to be amused or alarmed. Kimber's smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by a flicker of irritation. He was accustomed to fear and respect, not this calm defiance from a mere child. "Busy with what?" he asked, his patience thinning, his tone sharper now.

Lydia’s eyes met his unflinchingly, her voice carrying an edge of pride. "Busy being Shelbys," she replied, as if that explained everything. And in a way, it did.

Kimber's eyes darkened, his amusement giving way to a simmering menace. He extended a hand, intending to ruffle Lydia's hair in a gesture meant to assert his dominance rather than convey any genuine affection. His fingers, adorned with rings that gleamed ominously in the daylight, reached towards her.

But before he could make contact, Lydia took a deliberate step back, her eyes locked onto his with a mixture of defiance and warning. The movement was subtle, yet it spoke volumes. Her small frame seemed to grow taller, her presence more commanding, as if channeling the collective strength of her family.

"You shouldn't touch me," she said softly, her voice steady and clear. The softness of her tone contrasted sharply with the steel in her words. "My brothers wouldn't like it."

Kimber's hand hung in the air for a moment, frozen by the quiet authority in her voice. He slowly retracted it, his fingers curling into a fist at his side.

At that moment, the door of the Garrison swung open with a force that made the hinges groan in protest. Out stepped Thomas Shelby, flanked by Arthur and John, their presence immediately commanding the attention of everyone in the vicinity. The three brothers moved with a lethal grace, their expressions murderous, their postures taut with barely contained fury. The atmosphere grew dense with a palpable tension, forewarning of the storm that was about to break.

"Kimber," Tommy began, his voice slicing through the air like a blade of cold steel. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Each word was enunciated with an icy precision that sent shivers down the spine of anyone within earshot.

Billy Kimber straightened up, attempting to reclaim his swagger now that he was facing adults. His sneer was a thin veneer over the unease that gnawed at him. "Just having a chat with your little sister, Tommy," he said, his voice carrying a faux lightness that did nothing to mask the underlying threat.

Tommy's gaze turned to ice, his eyes narrowing with a deadly calm. He took a deliberate step forward, closing the distance between them. The intensity of his stare was enough to make even the bravest of men falter. "Keep away from her, get back in your fucking cars, and leave," Tommy said, his tone a low, menacing growl that left no room for misinterpretation.

Kimber laughed, but it was a hollow sound. He knew better than to push his luck with the Shelbys. "I'll see you soon, pikey," he said, but there was no real conviction in his words. With a sharp gesture, he signaled his men to follow him back to the car.

As the car sped away, its engine roaring and tires screeching, a cloud of dust hung in the air, slowly settling back onto the cobblestone street. The square, which had been a tense battleground moments ago, began to return to its usual hustle and bustle, though an undercurrent of unease still lingered.

Lydia stood frozen for a moment, watching the black car disappear around a corner. The adrenaline that had surged through her tiny frame started to ebb, leaving her legs shaky and her heart pounding in her chest. Her earlier bravado was giving way to a wave of relief.

She turned and ran to her brothers, her small feet making soft, rapid taps against the cobblestones. Tommy, Arthur, and John watched her approach, their expressions softening in unison. Tommy crouched down just as Lydia reached him, and with a gentle but firm grip, he lifted her into his arms. He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, feeling the rapid beat of her heart against his chest.

"Good girl, Lydia," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the tension that still clung to the air. "You did us proud,"

Lydia's lips curved into a small, proud smile as she wrapped her arms around Tommy's neck, seeking the comfort and security that only her brothers could provide. She rested her head on his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. "I know," she said confidently, her voice a mix of lingering fear and newfound courage. "I was brave, just like you."

The sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting an amber glow over Small Heath as Tommy took one last vigilant sweep of the streets for any lingering danger. Satisfied, he turned and carried Lydia towards the Garrison, Arthur and John close behind. As they stepped inside, the familiar scent of whiskey and smoke enveloped them. Lydia, nestled in Tommy's arms, exchanged a glance with John, who walked just behind them. She smiled, a mix of relief and affection, and John responded with a warm grin, ruffling her hair gently. Inside the Garrison, with the comforting hum of conversations and clinking glasses around them, the weight of the day's tension began to lift, leaving them with a fleeting sense of tranquility.

[izvmimi]

cw: selfship-coded. tanjiro and reader in 30s and have named children. family fluff.

Your daughter, only aged six, is surprisingly graceful, mirroring her father’s movements with determination and care written on her face that outsizes her small frame, as Tanjiro gives words of gentle encouragement, each step in time and more fluid than the next. 

It’s Sunday morning, and Ayumi has been practicing small portions of this dance for months now, and her sister right after her, Miki, stands a short distance away in the courtyard, mouth open in awe, with uncoordinated movements of her own as she tries to mimic them. You smile and call her over from your vantage point, and she peels her eyes away from them to look at you, then runs over to fall into your arms. Your last daughter, Mio, who has a wooden toy halfway in her mouth as she crawls over the tatami, also looks and easily jealous, scampers over to fight for attention.

“Stop!!!!” Miki starts to whine, but you shush her gently before finding space for both of them to sit close enough as you sit cross-legged and watch the rest of your family dance.

Ayumi is not holding a sword, even a training one made of wood, and you’re endlessly thankful for that. Thankful that she’ll likely never don a Demon Slayer Corps uniform, thankful that she’s learning for fun and tradition only. 

Tanjiro isn’t wielding a blade either, and while you can still see the slashes of his sword in your mind’s eye as he moves (you’ll never forget it as long as you live, you think), the Hinokami Kagura he’s performing has the steps he once called unnecessary added back in, once more a dance rather than necessary swordsmanship needed in situations of life or death. As he turns quickly, power and beauty combined in every step and hand movement, Ayumi moves in concert, less steady but just as impressive if not more so given her young age, and she’s the picture of her father in miniature, in a small little girl, the tints of burgundy in her thick curls pulled up into a ponytail matching his in the ample sunlight. 

She makes another sudden step, misplaces her foot, and practically trips, but Tanjiro is quick to catch her by the back of her kimono, and gives her a reassuring smile. 

“Oops! That’s enough for today, sweetheart,” he says, as she rights herself.

Ayumi pouts, but she can’t deny that she’s tired, and allows him to pat her on the head. “Good job,” he offers and her lips spread into a wide smile.

“You looked amazing, honey!” you call out to her. 

The two are quick to join you to sit on the tatami, Tanjiro pulling Mio into his lap and inspecting the drool covered block in her hand. She giggles as he tickles her tummy, and then Tanjiro’s eyes shift to you, as Mio quickly escapes him and crawls back into your direction, something that often drives him insane but he allows today.

“It wasn’t a bad idea,” he finally admits.

Ayumi, ever curious, asks “What?” as her eyes dart between the two of you but you share a knowing smile and don’t say anything further. 

You’d once asked him if he’d ever pass on Sun Breathing and he’d imparted to you that he never intended to teach anyone this dance, practically callous in his honesty that he in fact, never expected to live long enough to. In your stubbornness in refusing the idea that he could potentially die, you’d made him promise that he’d imagine himself teaching his child, whether girl or boy, if he managed to beat the curse and if he carried out his promise to marry you if he made it to age 26. 

And here you are now, years past that in the courtyard of a house far bigger than Tanjiro would have been comfortable living in, only giving into Kiriya’s constant offers of money once you were pregnant with your first child and he considered perhaps he could fill up a happy, large home.

“What wasn’t a bad idea?” Ayumi insists again, pushing into her dad’s side. Tanjiro ruffles the curls of her hair.

“Letting you show me up in front of your mother,” he teases. She laughs.

“Nuh-uh! I messed up three whole times!”

She demonstrates with her fingers and Tanjiro quickly replies, “yeah and you’re only 6, so very, very soon you’ll be a far better dancer than me!”

Ayumi’s dark eyes sparkle with competitive spirit which makes you smile. He picks her up abruptly and spins her around, then asks,

“Will you beat me at a ramen eating contest too?”

“Definitely!”

She laughs as he cheerfully puts her down then does the same spin with Miki, ever demanding of copious amounts of attention, and pretend wincing as she tugs gently at his earrings.

“So ramen for lunch?” you ask, as Ayumi and Tanjiro nod furiously. 

The idea of a family outing puts a smile on your own face. 

“Of course, let’s get ready to go!”

[uniquexusposts]

Her || Charles Leclerc

Main characters: Charles Leclerc x OC Genre: fan fiction, fluff  Story type: novel  Part: 5/? Word count: 2347 Co writer: @mistrose23

Story summary: Matilde Jørgensen, the new Scuderia Ferrari team principal, faced the nerve-wracking challenge of reviving the team's fortunes and aiming for a championship. Leading a historic team as a 'newbie' and separating her work and personal opinions posed a significant challenge. The big question: is she capable to do so?

Previous chapter

Chapter 3. I Will Try, Not Promise

The first day of work. Well, not entirely the first day of work, but the first day of work at the office. Matilde felt anxious, even though she had led the team for an entire weekend full of performance, media and team pressure. And she was nervous because it was Ferrari, the iconic and historic team at the iconic and historic office. She had been there once before, but most meetings were online.

Matilde entered the famous building. The realisation hit her as she saw the iconic prancing horse logo in the hall; she was part of the legacy that had captivated motorsport enthusiasts for decades. It felt very real now. At the track, it felt real, but also like a rollercoaster. And now entering those gates felt like she finally had entered the world of Ferrari.

"Good morning, Matilde," Galileo, her assistant, greeted the young team principal. He was waiting for her at the front desk. "Welcome to the office."

"Buongiorno," she replied, sharing one of the few words she knew in Italian, and nervously chuckled. Matilde tightened the grip around the straps of her bag and smiled.

The man smiled at the Italian greeting. "Let's go to your office." The young man with glasses and a moustache led her through the office. Galileo was one of the youngest people in Ferrari, he was one of the new generation. He used to be the right hand of the assistant of Binotto. When Binotto left, the assistant left as well, giving Galileo a promotion and a new person for him to work for. "Are you settled in your new home yet? What do you think of it?"

"It's amazing," Matilde smiled. "The team really did a great job. My family helped me to move in, so it's a delightful way to get settled."

"That is good to hear. Is your family still here?"

"Yes! Yes, they are. They're leaving tomorrow morning, but we drove past the office yesterday," Matilde replied and looked around. Every now and then, she got greeted and she said hi back. "Who fixed the apartment for me? I would like to thank that person."

Galileo shared a professional smile. "Of course, I will send Adriana to your desk."

"Sounds good," Matilde replied.

"So, this is where the hard work gets done," the assistant said and stepped inside an office space with glass walls. "I will be seated here," he said and pointed at his desk. He opened another door that led to another office. "Welcome to your office, Matilde."

Matilde stepped into the office space, scanning the room. Besides a desk, some cabinets and chairs, the office was empty. It still looked modern with a touch of Ferrari's racing heritage; miniature models of iconic cars framed pictures of legendary moments and drivers and more. The desk faced Galileo's small office. On the left, she faced a large window that offered a panoramic view of the bustling workspace of her team.

She walked further into the room, placing her bag on the floor next to her desk. A smile rested on her face. "Thank you," she said.

"I will give you some time to get settled. There are some manuals on your desk. I think today will be about getting to know things, and getting used to your new space, so there is one meeting planned at the end of the day."

Matilde nodded. "Yes, perfect."

"And if you need anything, just shout my name."

"Thank you."

As Galileo excused himself to attend to his own tasks, Matilde sat down in the chair behind the desk. She leaned back, gazing out at the hive of activity behind the glass walls. It was a symphony of coordinated effort, with each individual contributing to the orchestration of performances.

Her desk was clean and organised, awaiting her touch. As she logged into her computer, she faced a blank canvas for her to fill with plans, strategies and decisions that would shape the team's journey.

The layout reminded her of Christian's office at Red Bull, as well as how Galileo was seated, but she had a bigger office than him. She also remembered the personal items he had, wanting to do the same. It made Matilde think of the decorations she would buy to match her aesthetic. One thing she would do was look for a solution for the glass walls. It made her feel uncomfortable to be seen by everyone. It was something she had to get used to, but for now, it felt uncomfortable.

After some time exploring and inspecting the new system, Matilde called her assistant. Within seconds, Galileo stood in the door opening of her office. "I would like to visit every department, get to know everything and just say hi to everyone," she said. "Are you free? And would you like to show me around?"

Galileo seemed to be slightly surprised by her request, no one had done this before. Perhaps it was because the previous team principals were already part of the team before they got promoted to team principal. And newbies got a tour on their first day, but they didn't really bother to say hi to everyone. It was slightly normal to find it all out during your first few weeks. "Yes, sure. When would you like to do that?"

"I have some time now, but only if it suits you, of course. I don't want to hold you back from your work," she mentioned.

"Alright, let's do it now."

Matilde got up locked her computer and smiled, appreciating his willingness to guide her through the headquarters. "Thank you. I think it's important for me to understand the different departments, see the people behind all those desks and meet them. They are the reason why Leclerc and Sainz drive around," she said and raised her eyebrows.

"Absolutely," he nodded and gestured for her to lead the way. "We will start with the engineering department."

As they ventured into the bustling workspaces beyond her office, Matilde found herself involved in a realm of ceaseless activity. Engineers huddled over computer screens, poring over data and simulations. The atmosphere hummed with focused energy. Matilde introduced herself to everyone in the department and had a small talk with them. She spoke with people from aerodynamics, chassis, tyres, and power units, and got engaged in conversations.

After some stops at various departments (design, the factory, hospitality, IT, finance, travel and logistics, marketing, media and HR), met them and spoke to them, she ended up at the race team. She met all of those people at the track, but she still made some time to talk to them. Before Matilde and Galileo went back to their offices, they picked up a coffee.

"Carolinne is my right hand, she takes all my tasks on her when I'm at the track with you. She has the flu, so you two unfortunately can't meet each other soon," Galileo then said. "And I think you have met everyone now, besides the people of the night shift."

Matilde nodded. "Thank you for your time. And I'm sure I will get to meet Carolinne soon," she mentioned, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear. "I will pick up a night shift soon, just to see what happens during the night and to meet everyone there."

"You are really eager to meet everyone, I see," he mentioned.

"Yes, I want to get to know the people," Matilde replied when they entered their offices again. "And what they do." She liked Galileo, he was knowledgeable, efficient and clearly dedicated to ensuring a smooth transition.

She walked into her office and sat down behind her desk. Matilde grabbed the Tupperware from her bag for a snack. When she opened it, a smile came on her face. Her dad left her a note on a Post-it on the inside of the lid: it was just a smiley and a heart, drawn by him. It made her think of when she was a child, her dad would leave those notes behind in the lunch package when she had to go to school. And she noticed two more smiley's, that were not his handwriting; Jens and Lars left it behind. Matilde smirked, it was stupid, and that was probably the idea behind it. Her brothers were in their 30s. She could hear them giggle when drawing those smiley's. Matilde grabbed the post-it and put it under the computer screen, so she could see it every day.

As the day drew close, Matilde's work phone buzzed with a reminder for the meeting Galileo had mentioned earlier. During the day, she was engaged in conversations, decisions and exploring. With a sense of purpose, she rose from her chair, collected everything she needed and made her way to the meeting. Galileo informed her that the meeting was pushed to tomorrow, but that the board wanted to welcome Matilde in front of everyone. The gesture was nice, but it felt a little bit unnecessary, since she had introduced herself to everyone already and she had worked during a race already.

When she arrived at the factory hall, she spotted Carlos and Charles. "Hello," she said and shared a delicate smile.

"Hey," Carlos smiled.

"Matilde," Charles said, his tone neutral.

Everybody had to wait, so Carlos took the opportunity to ask Matilde a question everyone wanted to ask. "I'm curious; what made you join Ferrari?"

Matilde regarded him for a moment, considering her response. She looked around, people were looking at her, waiting for the answer they wanted to hear. "Opportunity," she answered. And because she wanted to see why Ferrari was a failing team, she was curious to see how they were working and she was in for a challenge. "The chance to be part of a historic team."

Carlos raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a faint smile. "Ambitious, I see."

"Always."

"I hope you will enjoy your time here."

Before Matilde had the chance to reply, she got called to the stage. Her eyes met Charles' eyes, he looked at her with slightly squinted eyes, almost ready to roll his eyes. It felt like he was trying to figure her out by just looking at her. Matilde raised her eyebrow and walked away. His attitude was off and Matilde couldn't find out why. She stepped on the stage and put on her professional smile.

The board welcomed her, had a small word on her and gave Matilde some minutes to say something. She spoke about how grateful she was for this opportunity. "...I will try and do my best to get the best out of this team and get the best results." Matilde thanked everyone for their time and wished everyone good luck.

* * *

Matilde stepped out of her heels after she had closed the door of her apartment. It was half past nine in the evening. The working times were bizarre to her, the two-hour break felt unnecessary, but it was a thing here in Italy. She entered her new living area and put her bag on the table. Her eyes glided over the space, the doors to the terrace were open. While Matilde put a bun in her hair, she walked to the terrace.

"Godaften," Matilde said and sat down on the lounge set next to Lars.

Lars and Jens were enjoying a glass of wine and their dad a beer. "You are late."

She raised her eyebrows and took a deep breath. "I forgot about the extra long lunch break," she said.

A smile grew on her face when she looked at her two brothers and father. "I really liked the post-it." Giggles filled the air. "Adorable."

"How was your first day?" Her dad asked. He poured a glass of wine for Matilde and slid it towards her.

Matilde took a sip of the wine, leaned back on the comfortable cushions of the lounge set and let the cold evening breeze brush against her skin. "Why are we sitting outside? It's cold, like ten degrees."

Lars and Jens held up their cigarettes, making Viggo glance disapproving at his two sons.

"Oh. And leaving the doors open? Gas isn't free," she huffed and got up, closing the doors.

"It's fresh air," Lars replied.

She sighed loudly and shook her head. "Anyway, it was a whirlwind," she answered her dad's question. Her voice was tinged with a mix of excitement and exhaustion. "I met everyone, saw different departments and had to speak in front of everyone. It's a lot to take in, but it's good."

Jens grinned mischievously, taking a sip of his wine. "Did anyone ask for your autograph yet, Mati?"

She rolled her eyes playfully. "Not yet, but I'm sure Galileo will be the first in line." The mention of her assistant brought a smile to her lips. She slapped Lars on his arm. "I have a personal assistant. I thought Galileo was just someone who would explain things to me, but he is my personal assistant."

"Oh, my god," Lars squealed playfully and shared the same reaction.

"(Galileo) Galileo, (Galileo) Galileo, Galileo Figaro, magnifico," Jens sang the text of Bohemian Rhapsody.

"Behave," Viggo said. "But that is amazing to hear, Til. And your office?"

"It's massive, even bigger than Christian's office, but kinda the same. But it has glass walls and it is awful," she replied.

"Those glass walls in your office are for a reason, Tilly. They stand for transparency and unity. You can see them, they can see you. Open communication and one team," Lars explained.

"I feel so freaking uncomfortable in there. Everybody is constantly looking at me," Matilde replied.

"That's what you think."

"That's what it is, they look at me. Every time I look up, I look into someone's eyes."

The family laughed, feeling proud of their little sister and daughter. It was the last day they would spend together in the cosy apartment in Italy. The men had to go back to Denmark. They loved to help Matilde out with moving her furniture from the UK to Italy and decorating her new place. Matilde couldn't be happier and grateful to have started her first official day with her family on her side. 

Next chapter

[witchofthesouls]

Because we need more culture clashes and misunderstandings between Cybertron and the Lost Colonies (and their roles and relationships within the galactic stage and nearby planetary neighbors)...

Nurse gets very confused whenever other 'cons (aka the mechs not part of the D.J.D.) ask about Conjunx status since, apparently, you're the less terrifying half.

Camien Nurse, a Seekerkin before getting the full picture of sordid details: It's just Tarn? He's the one that killed Deadzone.

Functionism, being the godawful system it was, had also impacted marriages. As in, there was the Primary Conjunx, who leads, and the Secondary Conjunx, who follows.

Primaries were of higher statuses, and because of that, they held all the legal powers: financial, medical, and courts.

A Secondary Conjunx were subservient to their Primary. There was no separation, the Primary assumed control of all their assets, including their frame.

Camien Nurse, now understanding that a Primary Conjunx is not just the mech that had the main influence in a carriage: We're getting divorced, now fuck off!

Cue confused Decepticon noises because divorce wasn't a thing with established Primary and Secondary Conjunxes. Unless a party was dead. Now, new rumors are running rampant.

_____

Tarn, who was an Empurata victim as he couldn't control his ability, lost his old caste to become Glitch, a guttermech: There's nothing you can make that will phase me. The Great Conversation has a whole thread dedicated to depression meals across city-states.

Camien Nurse, who came from a colony of severe deprivation and grew up living off the land due to Tourniquet's hunting habits, took a good look at the fancy things the 'cons had done: You got a refined pallette. (A Camien phrase for Cybertronian outsiders that managed to find their way to their sector. Such visitors aren't used to their processes and way of life.)

Tarn: Oh, you were broke broke.

______

Tarn's absolute horror that his legal Conjunx in this farce of a marriage and the carrier of his sparklings has no qualms going swimming for river rocks to crush into Energon and raw clay as a straight up snack.

Nurse's complete bafflement at the sheer wastage done by the Decepticons. Especially by the casualness of it! Why are they flushing Energon down the drain when all is needed are specific designs for cubes and straws to ensure no contamination!?

_____

Decepticons making new bets and musing over Tarn's sex life after the confirmation of the third clutch.

Sixshot banging his helm in the nearest wall to kill enough braincells to be able to stomach Tarn's stupidity and repressed horniness in the debriefs and meetings.

_____

Nurse doing a reading of the sparklings' initial streaks and patterns of true colors.

Camien Nurse: This particular hue of yellowish orange means 'energetic' and 'a zest for life,' especially in that dabbled spiral. Could also mean 'change' as well...

Tarn staring at the babbling miniature Damus pre-Empurata, complete with bright blue optics and fighting the urge to peel at his face again: ...

Decepticons that knew Damus/Glitch: ...

Everone else: Where did this Autobot-looking grub come from?!