#not caring about them looking neat or perfect just like. doing it

[hecksupremechips]

(Per ur last reblog) if you try to make it perfect you won't make it AT ALL!!

okay im going 🥺

[makiswirl]

can i just say. and this is probably a niche hill to die on. that i am so gobsmacked every time someone vaguely hints at the idea that jotaro doesn't care meaningfully for the other crusaders, usually particularly kakyoin and joseph, when those two actually tend to be the ones he reacts to being hurt the hardest

like he cares for his loved ones!!!! that literally plays into his character motives in every single part he shows up in!!! stop lying to me!!!!!!!

[acid-ixx]

a loving family, an unpalatable desire

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: would anyone hear me out if i ever wrote romantic yan! bruce (ft. platonic yan! batfam AND romantic yan clark kent alongside the superfam ofc) with a neglected spouse reader... because uhm, i've been thinking about it lately just yk... so anyways PLSPLSPLS send in asks about this, ive been thinking about it so much lately.

imagine wanting to raise a family so badly with a man who adopts problem children as a side hustle. you're not some invasive spouse, you've always been good, always been loving, so... so accepting, never questioned where or how he picked them up from the side of the streets, never once complaining about the hickeys on his neck or the once neat tussles of his hair now tangled accompanying lipstick stains on his white suit.

you love your children, you tell yourself all the time. you love them, you love bruce— even if he doesn't love you. you said it in your vows, despite it being scripted, despite your family finally sighing in relief in the sidelines at finally being able to sell you off to one of the wealthiest man in the world, rather than being wasting off under their care— your vows are real.

you wanted someone to love you, unconditionally, so viscerally eternal that it eats you up.

really, all you wanted was to play that fantasy life of trophy house spouses. all you wished for was a loving, healthy relationship. the american dream: the picture perfect family frames, your husband kissing you on the cheek as he leaves for work, your children bickering at the dining room, with the scent of homemade meals wafting about the vicinity. all you wanted was the warmth in your chest to flicker like candlelights. all you dreamed about was that domestic life, an escape from the abusive household you were raised in.

yet the manor is too cold, too unforgiving for a soul such as yours.

the longer you stay inside claustrophobic, yet oh-so large hallways, the quicker you drown in a neverending pool of self-hatred.

but you're not allowed to show them your sufferings. they've been through much worse, you tell yourself. they've suffered more, and as what good spouses do, as what you're taught, you stay silent, enabling them to turn you into their own emotional punching bag.

you only allow yourself to cry at the dead of the night, under the sheets of your too-cold blanket and your too-hot pillows. when the manor is filled with deathly silence and a looming sense of dread and ill fitting thoughts of ifs and when they'll come back in one piece, will you grant yourself temporary respite; worry for a family who never even called you their parent.

yet you've always been so considerate. despite the pang in your chest every time bruce flirts with anymore potential love interest at a gala, you chose to instead monitor your chaotic children, who have always never bat an eye on you despite you always gazing lovingly at them.

you know of their interests, they don't know yours, yet you still give them extravagant gifts on their birthdays, with tired, yet glinting eyes, and a silent excuse to return to your room; one separate from bruce.

you know of bruce's hardships, but you don't push too hard, don't force him to talk, only provide him your silence and an offer to serve him dinner; all the time he refuses without looking at you. you give him comfort only if he ever allows you, only if he allows his walls to crumble— but not even his spouse can amount to a warm, crackling fireplace. to him, you're probably only a matchstick under the deadbeat glaze of the snow in a winter night.

maybe that's why you're such a ghost in the manor, stalking through the hallways, looking out for any of your children in case they come across you with any injuries. maybe that's why eventually your resolve weakened.

and maybe the absence of familial love led you to find comfort in another man's arm.

''til death do us part,' is such a tragic saying in your case, because you know it in your fragile heart that bruce's love for you was never alive in the first place. and yet you allow him to play you like a fiddle, allow him to slowly allow you to slip away from his nonexistent grasp.

and now, you're a stand-in parent for clark's son, jon, after the tragic loss of his wife. now, your world seems a lot less bleaker, as you play the fantasy of a loving house spouse, fully abandoning the life you left behind, a life you've never been gifted with until now. you want to feel guilty, you want to feel absolutely terrible but the heartache of neglect has become too much and all you do was allow clark to warm you up each night, kissing away your tears and spooning your deep-seated anxieties away.

you don't let the past eat you up, not when the present is too perfect, too freeing, too delusionally beautiful.

your son, jon provides you every joy a parent could have. parent's day gifts, heartfelt letters at every nook and cranny of your shared bedroom with clark— even reading him bedtime stories, allowing him to sleep in your lap after he slowly nods off, with clark knocking softly on polished wooden doors, greeting you with a loving kiss on the lips and a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand—

it's everything a parent wants, needs even.

and you're everything clark, and especially jon wants, needs in their life.

so it's such a stupid mistake, really. a slip of the tongue, a too-enthusiastic smile, incredibly bright, shining eyes. it's not jon's fault, you still love him either way. but it's an error still— one a complicated matter at hand, so dreadful for you, that jon accidentally, all-too-suddenly, mentions you as his parent to damian.

a loving, wonderful parent, he says, with a picture of you in his wallet shoved right in front of his friend's face.

[aardvaark]

the way the leverage team make a mess of nate’s apartment on multiple occasions is so much funnier when you consider that none of them are particularly messy people. in the pilot, hardison has a very nice apartment that he is clearly proud of & has kept very tidy. parker’s warehouse is almost disturbingly neat, her tools and weapons are kept clean & shiny and are laid out in perfect rows, her bed is made, her clothes and rappelling gear is hung up. eliot likes things done properly and certainly at least cares for his car’s cleanliness. idk about sophie, but she would at least know how to act neat for a grift, and she’d be aware of how a guest to supposed to treat their host’s home.

but they all put unwashed dishes in nate’s sink, do spur of the moment renovations, set up new gear in his living room, leave clothes/costumes, plans & random items strewn about the place, and even tear up his stuff without fixing it. i love it. his apartment is their playground. they half live here now. nate just needs to chill out and let them saw into his walls, geez calm downnnn. i know nate’s eye was twitching when he saw that parker’s warehouse was so perfect meanwhile there’s probably 5 bowls of unfinished cereal hidden in his house like a damn look-and-find puzzle

[pure-smut]

the taste of you.

featuring: Laios Touden x f!reader

contains: you're a succubus and Laios wants to eat you (out), cunnilingus, mention of death

word count: 1.4k

note: all characters are 21+!

MDNI | 18+ content

series: 1. the taste of you | 2. the feel of you

masterlist

You’re lounging in the small, rocky pool of your home, dipping your head back in the water to clean your hair. Your floor of the dungeon resembles a mini paradise, all fresh water and cherry blossoms and soft, vibrant grass. You love living here, your own space shared with no one – except the odd dungeon crawler, traipsing through your home with their dirty boots and loud voices.

You don’t mind though. You have to eat sometime.

You’re not a bad monster, you just get hungry. And it’s not like the men who stumble across you aren’t willing, they just forgo all logic and think with that thing between their legs. Once you’ve had your fill, drained the life from their bodies as they spill their seed inside you, you leave their bodies by the entrance as a kindness.

You’re starting to get hungry again, starting to wonder when someone new will visit, when you hear the rasp of metal armour. You smooth your wet hair back and turn to the source of the disruption.

A tall man with fair hair stands at the edge of your pool.

Perfect.

You rise from the water, exposing your bare chest, and smile sweetly at him.

“A weary traveller,” you say. “In need of refuge.”

The man only stares at you, a notch between his brows. It’s not the same hungry look that men usually give you, their instincts already taking over before you even touch them. You wait a moment for him to say something but he doesn’t, only studies you.

“Your name?” you ask, trying a different tact.

“Laios,” he replies.

“Laios,” you repeat, rolling his name around your mouth.

“And yours?”

You smile. Only a few men have ever asked your name, some of them thinking it will save them from their fate. It doesn’t.

“Y/N,” you tell him and he considers this.

After a beat, he offers his hand out to you. You take it, stepping out of the pool to stand naked in front of him. When Laios looks you up and down, it doesn’t feel the same as the other men. It feels… curious.

“Come, Laios.” You keep holding his hand, guiding him to a clear area of soft grass. “Sit with me.”

Laios does what you say, kneeling politely in front of you. You sit opposite and spread your legs for him, leaning back on your arms. Laios’s eyes trail down to your glistening lips, making you smile. He is still a man after all.

“You’re tired,” you say sympathetically. “Your body is sore, your mind is weary. Take some respite with me, Laios. I’ll take care of you.”

Laios’s golden eyes flick up to yours.

“You’re a succubus,” he states. You smile and shrug.

“I am.”

He holds his chin in thought as you wait for him quietly.

“Will my body be recovered? he eventually asks.

You huff a laugh in surprise. No one’s ever planned their death in advance before. There’s always a hint of hubris, of thinking they can pull back at the last moment, not knowing you have them as soon as they’re inside you.

“Yes.” You reward his honesty with your own. “I leave the bodies by the entrance so they can be found.”

Laios looks pleased, gifting you his first smile since he arrived.

“Not many monsters care about that,” he says.

“Well, I have to eat, that's all.” You shrug again. “Otherwise I’ll starve.”

Laios’s eyes brighten.

“I’m hungry, too,” he says.

Huh, that’s a weird thing to say. You shake the thought off as Laios moves closer to you, gently pushing your knees apart to make space for himself. His eyes are glued on the fruit between your legs, his tongue flicking out to lick his lips. You grin and rest back further, sinking onto your forearms. You’re looking forward to your meal – little do you know that Laios is as well.

Laios stands to tugs off his armour, carefully laying the pieces down in a neat pile, leaving himself in his undershirt and drawers. When he falls back down to his knees between your legs, you expect him to pull his cock free, to sink himself into you as soon as possible.

You don’t expect him to bend down and run his tongue along your pussy.

You inhale sharply, nearly pulling back in shock. You stare down at him as Laios raises his head, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Sweet,” he says, rolling his tongue in his mouth. “A slight tang and… hm. Something else.”

It takes you a second to realise he’s talking about you. About your taste.

With wide eyes, you watch Laios as he lies down on his stomach to get more comfortable. He wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling you to him and licks another stripe along your folds. His broad tongue splits your lips as he finds your hole, the source of your nectar. Laios makes a content noise as he pushes his tongue inside you.

You shudder with pleasure, reaching down to slide your fingers through his hair. His strong nose nudges your clit, heightening your enjoyment.

Laios laps at your hole, delighted by the taste of you, your flavour dancing along his tongue. You’re not like he expected, much sweeter and earthier, but delicious either way. And he’d be lying if he said he isn’t enjoying the noises you make, the little quiver of your thighs. Eating is an experience, he knows.  The way you whimper and scratch at his scalp is part of the experience, part of why you taste so good.

Laios moves away from your hole, licking his way up to your clit. He finds it swollen and slippery with more of your arousal so he flattens his tongue and swipes broad strokes over it. You tug his hair a little tighter, your moans a little louder.

You’re leaning back, supporting yourself on one arm as you look down at Laios, watching him feast on you, his lips flush to your mound. His eyes are closed in bliss, his brows pushed together in the middle.

Laios sucks softly on your swollen bud and moans into your pussy. You cry out, pleasure seizing you in a vice grip. You squeeze his head between your thighs, the dungeon echoing with your ragged moans. When you’re too sensitive to continue, Laios moves back down to your hole, lapping at you once more, eager for the juices he just caused.

You lay back, chest heaving as Laios continues to lick you deep. You let him, enjoying the feel of his tongue against your less sensitive nerves. Laios only pulls back when his jaw cramps, stopping him.

You prop yourself back up on your forearms to look at him. Laios’s mouth and chin is shiny with your arousal, which he doesn’t bother to wipe off.

“Definitely sweet,” he confirms, his eyes alight and a grin on his face. He absently rubs his jaw, trying to work away the cramp. “Which makes sense – succubus tend to eat a lot of fruit.”

You listen to him, still slightly dazed from your orgasm, as Laios continues thinking out loud, theorising your taste and growing more animated by the second. His excitement is palpable and you can’t help but smile at him but you’re distracted. There’s a strange feeling in your stomach, something familiar but unfamiliar at the same time. You’re still trying to place it when Laios interrupts your train of thought.

“I’m curious about something though,” he says, flexing his hands and looking down at them. “Why haven’t I died?”

You scrunch up your face in confusion.

“What?”

“I thought I’d be dead.” Laios looks equally confused. “Isn’t that what a succubus does? Drains energy?”

Huh. You guess you’d never thought about what would happen if someone had sex with you without penetration.

“You know, I’m not sure,” you answer truthfully. “I’ve only ever drained them through their…”

You pointedly look down, noting that Laios is sporting a sizeable tent in his drawers despite his curious enthusiasm.

“Oh.” He looks down before glancing up again, his knuckle pressed against his lips in thought. “That’s interesting. Would it need to be genitals or would fingers work? I definitely had my tongue inside you so we can rule that out.”

Laios goes onto another tirade again, his face alight. You watch this adorable weirdo enthuse about what appendage he could safely put inside you and feel your face breaking out in a smile.

You enjoy being alone, being in your own company, but it’s been a while since you were this entertained.

“Laios,” you say, interrupting him gently.

“Hm?”

You beckon him closer, brushing your thumb across the light stubble on his jaw. He’s quite handsome, you think. How did you not notice before? You grin at him.

“Why don’t we try some of your theories out?”

[luveline]

I don’t really have a request I just love anything you write💗 maybe something with girly!reader?

thanks lovely💗

Spencer wrings his hands behind his back, shifting from one foot to the other unhappily. He hasn't felt this nervous since he was young —his PhDs have acted as a shield for years now. Even if he doesn't know what to do, he physically cannot be stupid. 

He feels pretty stupid. Less when you look up, smile blinding and sticky with gloss. He's thought about how it would feel to kiss you before and he tries desperately to push the thought away now, his hands shaking where they're hidden. 

"Hey, Spencer Reid," you say, lightly teasing as you wave him toward you. "How are you?" 

"I'm good." 

"Yeah?" You gesture at the empty seat in front of you. "Are you having lunch?" 

The bureau cafeteria is less of a cafeteria in the kitchen sense and more of a staff room, though hot food is served at the very back. There are couches toward the patio of an outdoor area to the left. You sit at one of the tables near the doors. The air is cold around his ankles as he sits with you. 

"No, I– I came down for coffee, but the jug is empty." It's a bad lie. Luckily you have no idea that there's a kitchen in the BAU offices. "You're not?" 

You turn your laptop screen to him. "I ate my lunch at my desk. I'm just catching up with my show." Your laptop has stickers around the screen, silver shiny stars and tiny pink hearts that look like they're made of jelly. There's a closed bottle of nail polish resting near the keyboard. "And I'm gonna touch up my nails, too. They're always chipping." 

"They look perfect to me," Spencer says. 

You beam at him, beatific, so, so pretty, he could die. He might. "Thanks, honey. You'd look cute with painted nails, have you ever thought about it?" 

Spencer honestly forgets about his nails. He should take better care of them. He thinks about hiding them under the desk. "I don't think I could do it." 

"No one's good at it, at first. I'd paint them for you, if you wanted. I have a couple of things in my bag." 

Spencer's relieved to present freshly trimmed nails to you for painting. Your polish is a light blue colour, milky, and he assumes it'll be the one you use on him, but you decide to ruin his life, taking his hand into one of yours. You hold his fingers in a way that presents the nail as you brush cuticle oil around the edges of his nails with a small pen brush. You chatter as you do in your way, all sweet and gentle in mirror of your touch. 

He's proud of himself for keeping his cool. To have you touching him for so long, so kindly, to have your attention, it has him squirming with a mixture of pleasure and horror. He wants to be seen by you but he doesn't know if he likes what you're looking at. 

"You have really lovely hands," you say, using the tip of one of your nails to scrape stray wet polish off of his skin, "do you play piano?" 

"You can tell?" he asks. 

"Pianist's fingers," you say. "That's a thing, isn't it?" 

"I haven't played much since I was younger. I got distracted by other stuff." 

"Maths," you surmise. "And criminology?" 

Everything. He pushed away a want for human connection with books and education until it got too much. Even the wisest of honeybees will brave heavy rain for a beautiful flower, and that's sort of how he feels about you. He knows it's stupid, knows it's doomed, but he couldn't not try to speak to you. You're the prettiest girl he's ever seen, all your lip colours and shimmery eyeshadows, the chirpy way you talk, the earnestness of your please and thank yous. 

Your hands. The silver ring on your index finger dotted with tiny pink stones. Your bracelets. The smell of your perfume and your soft sweaters. 

"Done," you announce, an uncharacteristic hesitance to your tone. "Are they okay?" 

You've done a perfect job. "They're so neat. Thank you. I– I love it." 

Your eyes linger on his hands. "I love when guys wear nail polish. You're even handsomer now, it's crazy. I didn't know it was possible." 

Spencer should have more style for sure, but he asks you to dinner right then and there. 

You smile until the lashes kiss in the corners of your eyes and say yes. This new place opened just around the corner from your apartment, and you've been trying to drum up the courage to ask him all week. When Spencer hears that he almost passes out. 

[bi-writes]

hello 🐝!! hope ur doing well, luv!

was thinking about bff!roommate!simon loving readers food. the reader starts baking and cooking for fun and uses simon as a test subject to rate the food LOL. reader's food slowly becoming one of his comfort things and maybe him risking cooking for/with them

just pureeee fluff!!

had this idea while looking at my burnt brownies LMFAO

wish ya the best ⚡

this is so sweet. this came out much angst-ier than i intended lol.

more bff!roommate!simon (part 7/?)

cw: mature language and content, suggestive language and content, simon is big 👁️👁️, the mask doesn't come off, aNgSt and LoNgInG

it's one of the first dinners that simon spends with you in your new apartment. he has never lived in a home that he didn't hate coming back to.

when he was a child, he feared his father. when he was an adult, he feared the loneliness and the quiet; it left room for the thoughts in his head to manifest and grow claws. but now, he found himself in the back of a car after deployment without dread in his chest.

when he steps into the foyer, the apartment is warm. there is no dust on the forgotten, bare counters. there is no screaming, no crying, no hushed voices and angry eyes. there is a warm yellow glow throughout the apartment; the lights you have put up since he left cast such a comforting shadow across the inviting furniture, the pictures you've hung on the wall are happy, the books you've put away and the candles you've lit are familiar.

and there's a smell. something smells so good. he closes the door behind him and locks it, setting his bag down. he follows the sounds coming from the kitchen. there's the sound of something simmering, cutlery hitting a wooden cutting board.

when he emerges into the kitchen, something in his chest constricts. you've got your bottom lip between your teeth as you concentrate on peeling some potatoes, trying to be careful not to nick the tip of your finger. there's a pot on the stove, a low fire lit as something cooks. there's more candles, a glass of wine there, a neat mess of vegetable scraps and ingredients.

he doesn't know what to call it; the taste of the word in his mouth sounds something like home.

"simon!"

and there's your smile. a bright, shimmering thing that comes over your face, relief in those gorgeous eyes and glossiness in your gaze as you hold back the excited tears you're overwhelmed with. you drop the knife you were using, hurrying around the counter to greet him, and simon grunts as your arms fling around his neck, bringing him down to your level as you hug him tight. there it is again--something tight and mean in his chest, something that feels good but something he can't say out loud.

"y-you're home--" you pull back gently. "you're back."

you smile, and simon catches the tear that escapes before it can run down your cheek.

"w-welcome home," you whisper, and you mean it, and his breath is stuck in his throat because something was waiting for him here, and it is you, and you are perfect.

"'ello, luv," he murmurs. "somethin' smells nice."

"yeah, i--" you sniffle, taking his arm and bringing him into the kitchen. simon is still fully dressed in his gear, sturdy jeans with holsters fastened around his thighs, a thick belt, a tactical vest tight around his broad torso. you pick up a tasting spoon, dipping it into the stew and holding it up to him. "tell me how it tastes. i'm...trying something new."

simon meets your eyes from under the mask before he lifts up the fabric slightly. you don't pay attention to the corrugated skin you see, the discoloration; you just smile and feed him the spoon.

he closes his eyes gently. he has been living on ready-made meals in the field and the food prepared in the mess halls. the food isn't bad--but it isn't made like this. it doesn't come with an angel feeding it, it doesn't come with an apartment filled with peace, it wasn't made with that unspoken thing that is shared between the walls of this place.

it tastes wonderful. it's warm, and it sits so nice in his stomach, and simon wants more immediately.

"still needs some time, got to get the potatoes done," you say, as if reading his mind. "it'll give you some time to wash up."

and when he comes back, you're still there. he blinks; this isn't a dream. you're still in the kitchen, asking him how he's feeling, your hair in front of your eyes as you pick up plates and bowls and more things you must have picked up when he was gone--what the fuck is going on?

who's house am i in?

what kind of fucking dream is this?

when do i wake up--when does this all get taken away from me? because i don't fuckin' deserve this--ghosts don't eat--ghosts don't get to live, and they don't get to share these memories, and they don't get to fall in lo--

"simon," you say softly, putting a small bowl into his gloved hands. his dark eyes fall, focusing on the curve of your lips and the softness of your skin and the way you feel in front of him. "ready to eat?"

yes. yes, yes, yes--

simon has been waiting all his for this feeling. the domesticity of home, the familiarity of not being alone, the serenity in something not unknown. and this would not last--he knows this deep in his bones. dead men do not get to savor these moments; he knows his demon will come to collect the time he's stolen, but for now, he will sit at the table he shares with you, drink in the warmth that you bring. he will listen to the gentleness of your voice, and he will fight tears one day in the field trying to remember exactly how you sound at this exact moment in time.

and he will try again to keep this feeling. he will pick a day that you work, a day when you are gone, and he will try and recreate the homecoming you gave him. he will fuck it up--of course he will, because simon was never taught how to love someone else like this. but somehow, he knows you won't care.

you will look at him the way you're looking at him now--simon puts the stars in the sky, the moon into orbit, gravity in motion, he brings the heat of the sun and the snow in the winter, and maybe he doesn't do this with the world you live in, but he does it with whatever lives inside of you, and it's enough for you to know that this is all that matters.

his hand along your thigh, his eyes on yours, the thing that is stuck between his teeth that he won't say but that you can feel in the air.

the thing between you that follows you, even when you go to bed that night in separate rooms. the thing that keeps you up at night knowing he is just across the hall, that he's right there, he's right fucking there--

he's right there.

so why can't i just have him?

[evilminji]

You know what's my JAM?

Extremes being treated as the Serious Dangers they ARE, even when they aren't "oooh its a spooky Grey morality and BADness!" Extreme.

Like? No, people. ALL of them are bad. They are ALL face melting dangerous. The void may crush your soul, but look upon the Face Of GOD? Not gonna be having a fun time! Doesn't MATTER if he's a cool dude! Face melting!

We are creatures of BALANCE. Tiny, fragile, little motes of dust. That can only exsist in the careful, blended, dances of territories and powers that be. We squishy.

Ghosts? Less squishy.

Poor impulse control, too. Especially ones with Fenton genetics. ABSOLUTELY ones with Fenton genetics and a trauma based aversion to therapy. That one? Pretty hardy. Made pretty tough, what with being Fates third favorite chew toy. But? Still gets the Sads, you know? The slightly longer then just seasonal depression.

Would medicine and some therapy help? Oh like a dream!

If medicine WORKED on his Ectoplasmicly contaminated ass. And he TRUSTED therapists.

But... surely, Danny thinks, as he sits grossly in his Depression sweatpants and eats suspect pizza on the floor of his moldering shoebox of an apartment, there must be SOME way to address his Depression? He should... he should DO something about it. Take a break maybe. Look up some ghost doctors or something.

.....

Oooooooooor..... >.>

He could break out that OMENIOUS af, bound in suspect leather, Big Book Of Forbidden Knowledge(TM) that he got from Pariah's.... what, fourth? Fifth? Library? Fuck that Lair is huge. He's STILL cleaning it out and it's been over half a decade. He swears it spawns more floors just to mock him. Bastard. Don't know HOW a building can be a Bastard, but it sure found A WAY.

Anyway!

Book it is! *horrifying Eldritch light as he opens it* huh. Neat. Comes with its own visual effects. *another bite of suspect pizza* Funky.

And so! Danny, the depressed King Of The Zone... fucks of to go cheer himself up in the Fields Of Bliss(TM), an area of Absolute Bliss. Which! Sounds GREAT in theory, now don't it? Lovely even.

Remember that little comment about extremes?

You can ENTER those fields. But no one leaves. No one CAN. The deeper you go? The more doomed you become. Less will to do anything at all. Eat, talk, move. So much as think. Like ALL extreme "Goods", it sounds lovely, but the reality is no gentle little thing.

It's a glue trap.

But how could Danny have known? Honestly, who would have TAUGHT him? Textbooks can only go so far, after all. And placing blame will not rescue the young monarch.

I imagine it's one of his helpers that pieces together what's happened. Come for further clarification on WHERE exactly he wants certain statues moved. Only? Your Majesty? Your Majesty...? Where ever could he BE? Oh? He's left out some of his books. Well, I'll just assist by putting them away for-.....

Oh.

OH ANCIENTS, NO.

But! What can the poor man DO? Ghosts are Beings of Will, Emotion, and Obsession. Were it some sort of Holy Blade or Sentient Tree, you know, something INDIVIDUAL with a will they could FIGHT? Oh no problem. But an area of effect? Especially an EMOTIONAL area of effect!? Ooooooh, this is bad. The Zone can't AFFORD to lose ANOTHER King!

We JUST GOT THIS ONE!!!

Wait. He's heard that there's an organization for this! That loudly cursing fellow who got violently thrown back into the Zone. "Ruined his fun" and all that! Perfect! He'll just hire THEM!

Smashcut? To a nice, peaceful, everybody's screaming Justice League Meeting. John's cursing life, extremely hungover. Zatana still has three cracked ribs. Wonder Woman is enjoying the new sword she... liberated... mid battle. Truely stunning craftsmanship. When?

Knock Knock!

Heads swivel. There... is a glowing green... accountant? Dandy? Dandy accountant. With an equally radioactive day glow green Actual Pirate's Chest Of Treasures, floating next to him. In the void of space; Just beyond the glass. What, the, fuuuuuu-

He seems to be under the impression they are some sort of Heroic mercenaries. And has come to request the retrieve-

"NNNNNOPE! Pariah can SHOVE it!" Snarls a suddenly very awake John Constantine, sitting up straight for the first time in hours. The rest of Dark grimly nod in agreement. Let the fucker rot. It's a kinder fate then he deserves.

No, no, NO! King PHANTOM! Pariah's SUCCESSOR by right of combat! They are not, and were never, allied in any way!

Well, all right then. Road trip to save a young idiot then.

@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @mutable-manifestation @nerdpoe

[spiicii]

jey uso / nsfw alphabet

x fem!reader  word count → 2.2k summary → my first shot at writing (i can't believe this man has driven me to write), lots of smut and dirty talk beneath the cut, read at your own risk, not beta read

A = Aftercare 

Jey is always so sweet to you. No matter how rough the sex was, he’s always quick to take care of you. He’s gentle as he cleans you up, murmuring soft praises and soothing words. After he’s sure you’re good, he crawls into bed beside you, pulling you close. He’s a cuddler and will keep you close to his chest all night. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) 

He’s worked hard for his body and is especially proud of his shoulders and arms. He loves it when you rub your fingers across his tattoos, admiring the artwork and marveling at the strong muscles that can lift you with ease. 

He loves every inch of you, but he's obsessed with your thighs. It doesn’t matter where you are, he’s going to find a way to grab them, smack them, or even place his hand over them possessively when he’s sitting next to you. He especially loves the feeling of your thighs wrapped around his head as he eats you out. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

As much as he loves cumming inside you, he loves it more when you let him cum on your face. There’s just something about you on your knees, your pink tongue outstretched as he marks you up that drives him crazy. Once he’s finished, he’ll run his fingers through your hair and praise you for how good you’ve been for him. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He wasn’t going to see you for weeks and he would miss you. At least, that’s the excuse he gave when he stole a pair of used panties from your dirty clothes to take with him on the road. He’d never done anything like that before and he blamed the intoxicating smell of your pussy as the only thing that could have driven him to do something so filthy. He didn’t get many chances to jerk off while on the road, but when he did, he was sure to sneak the panties from his suitcase and press his nose into the lace to remind himself of you. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s always been an attractive man and has plenty of experience. Most of his partners have been pretty vanilla, so he’s not super experienced in the kinkier side of things, but he’s pretty open-minded. If you bring up something he’s never heard of before, he’d be willing to do some research and learn more about it. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He loves doggy-style (better access to your thighs and ass), but he really can’t get enough of fucking you in missionary. He wants to see your pretty face and loves watching your eyes glaze over as he drills in and out of you. He’ll kiss you as he grinds deep into you, his mouth a hot brand against yours, the kiss deep and possessive. He wants you to feel all of him and take everything he has to give you. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Look, Jey’s a goofy guy. One of the reasons you fell for him was because he knows how to make you laugh. Still, he’s not silly all the time. Some nights he’s sweet and romantic, making sure to take his time and treat you right. Other times he’ll get that dark, possessive look in his eyes and you know that you're in for a long night. 

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s not completely clean-shaven, but he likes to keep everything neat and tidy. He treats it like his beard: he likes it a certain way and doesn’t like to change it. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It all depends on his mood. Some nights he’ll pepper your body with sweet kisses, nothing but honeyed praise on his lips as he takes care of you. 

Fuck, you’re perfect.  I could spend all night tasting you, mamas.  Let me spoil you, baby. 

Then there are other nights. Nights where something will have him feeling frustrated or pent-up. Whatever the reason, you usually end up on all fours, his large hand fisted in your hair as he pistons in and out of you from behind, spitting filthy praise as he uses you. 

Yeah, you like that, don’t you?  Gonna make you cum on this dick, pretty girl.  So fucking tight. You like being used by your daddy? 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Whenever he’s away from you for weeks at a time, he takes whatever opportunity he can to call you. He wants to hear how much you miss him, how badly you need him. This is the only time he’ll do phone sex, when he misses you so fucking bad and only has your voice to get him going. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Loves pulling your hair. Doesn’t matter if he’s hitting it from the back and grabbing you by the hair so you can’t hide your face in the pillow or tightening a fistful of your hair in his hand as he fucks the back of your throat. He loves the way your eyes flutter as he tugs at your scalp, how your mouth falls open and the sweetest little groans spill out of you. 

Usually prefers to take control and loves how much you trust him to take care of you. That being said, there are some (very rare) nights where he wants you to take care of him. On those nights, he’s content letting you call the shots and sub for you. If you praise him and tell him about how good he’s being he might spontaneously combust. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Isn’t a huge exhibitionist and prefers to fuck you in the comfort and privacy of his room. He likes to take his time with you, so a large bed and soundproof walls are preferred. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing you in any outfit that highlights your ass and thighs will immediately get him going. He’ll even get a little possessive if he knows you’re going out in an outfit that shows off your body. 

Whoa, whoa, where do you think you’re going, baby? Nobody should get to see this perfect body but me.

He’s easily riled up, so it doesn’t take much to get him going. Literally anything you could do to him could get him in the mood.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Isn’t a fan of exhibitionism (privacy is important to his career) so he doesn’t take risks like that. 

He doesn’t mind you dishing out some punishment to him (he takes beatings for a living), but he would never do anything to hurt you. To him, there’s a difference between being rough and actually hurting you. He’s a lot stronger than you and sometimes he might leave the accidental bruise or mark. He’s always so sweet and apologetic, no matter how small the mark is or how much you reassure him. You’re his perfect angel and he would never want to hurt you, even if you wanted it. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

I don’t care what anyone says, this man is a MUNCH. He’s obsessed with the way you taste and could spend hours between your legs, his mouth latched to your clit, his arms slung across your hips to keep you pinned to the bed. He would wring orgasm after orgasm from your shaking body, lapping at the sweet nectar dripping out of you like it’s his last meal on earth. 

He loves it when you give him head, mostly so he can keep his hands in your hair and watch as you worship his cock. He’s usually sweet when he praises you, urging you to take what you want, allowing you to control the pace. He’s only fucking your throat when he’s in a mood. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

His default pace is usually slow and sensual. He likes to take his time with you and enjoy the ride, spending hours taking you apart and putting you back together again.

BUT

Jey’s an emotional guy. He’s known as a hothead and has a bit of a temper. When he comes home from a rough day at work or someone says the wrong thing to him, he might prefer to come to you to get some pent-up energy out. On days like that, he’s fucking you so fast and rough that you probably won’t be able to walk tomorrow. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s not a huge fan of quickies, especially if it means he won’t be somewhere where you’ll be comfortable like a bed. He wants to spoil you and make you feel good, not fuck in a supply closet where you’ll be cramped and uncomfortable. He doesn’t mind sneaking away for a little make out session, but he usually won’t go any further than that. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He would never risk his career or do anything in public, but anything else he’d be willing to try for you. He’s a pretty open-minded guy and would be willing to experiment with something new if you wanted it. He probably wouldn’t be the one to introduce anything new into your sex life, but he’ll try (almost) anything once. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

This man is an athlete in peak condition. He has a high stamina and sex drive, more than happy to go multiple rounds with a short refractory period. He’d never push you further than you’re able to go and always wants to put your comfort first. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t own any toys but wouldn’t be opposed to you bringing them into the bedroom. He might be a bit skeptical of them at first (might even tease you about a few) but if you wanted to use them, he wouldn’t be against it. 

The very first time you brought in toys, it was a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs. He thought they were for you at first and was shocked when you said they were for him instead. After some jokes (this man ALWAYS has jokes) he finally agreed to let you handcuff him to the headboard. He would never tell anyone, but he’d never finished so quickly in his life. Needless to say, you certainly use this knowledge to your advantage whenever he let you take control.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s soooo cocky, even when he’s being sweet, and will tease you for hours on end. Loves to see you fall apart under his tongue or listen to you beg him for more more more. 

Yeah, yeah, need your daddy, huh? So fucking spoiled, aren’t you, little girl? 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not over the top loud, but he can get vocal. When he’s deep inside you and grinding into your gummy walls, you’ll hear his rough grunts in your ear, a low creaky groan ripping from his throat as he spills into you. 

He’s got a filthy mouth, whether he’s being sweet or rough with you. 

You can be louder for me, can’t you?  You gon’ be my good girl?  Just needed this dick, didn’t you mamas? 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Can we talk about subby Jey some more? Sure, he’s an amazing dom and takes such good care of you, but when he finally lets go and lets you call the shots? He really is the sweetest boy in the world. So anxious and eager to please you. You rarely have to punish him and even when you do, he somehow manages to get out of it by using his adorable puppy eyes. He loves it when you tie him down and ride him until he’s begging you for release, letting out the cutest little whimpers and moans. He’s always so embarrassed that you can coax those sounds from him, his ears and cheeks burning as he hears how pathetic he sounds, but he can’t deny how good he feels as you praise him and pet his hair. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Long and curved, his dick is well-acquainted with your cervix. It’s so pretty, genuinely one of the prettiest dicks you’d ever seen. You once asked if he’d want to get it pierced, just to add to its beauty, but he’d only laughed and made a joke. Well, he didn’t say no…

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

This man can fuck like the energizer bunny, always ready for you whenever you want him. He’s horny as hell but he does a good job of hiding it when he’s at work or on the road. He thinks about you constantly and is pretty much always down to fuck. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) 

Once he’s sure that you’re comfortable and taken care of, he’s usually asleep pretty quickly. He’s more tired than he’d like to admit but he doesn’t like falling asleep before you. 

[krisp-xyz]

Was experimenting with halftone effects after watching this video and it almost has spiderverse vibes honestly. I actually learned some neat things about why printers use CMYK instead of just CMY so I thought I'd share !!

So in our optimal little computer space, Cyan (0,255,255), Magenta (255,0,255) and Yellow (255,255,0) all multiplied together gives us a perfect black (0,0,0) Awesome! The issue is that ink colors irl arent exactly perfect like this, and color is a bit more complicated irl compared to how computers represent it, so they aren't the greatest at combining into black if they aren't those perfect CMY values:

Left: CMY

Right: CMYK

(thats not even black, its a dark blue in the original image but dark colors just look so much richer)

An important step to make sure you arent doubling up on the black values though is to divide the image by it's own "value" (the max of all 3 color channels) that way the value is equal to 1 everywhere, and you're letting the black ink take care of the value on its own.

Left: CMY (normalized value)

Middle: K (black)

Right: Combined

Now obviously the grids of dots cant be aligned perfectly with each other because you'd just get a bunch of black dots in unwanted areas, but if the grids are misaligned, then some dots become more prominent than others which tints the whole image. This was an issue because older printing methods didn't have great accuracy and these grids were often misaligned.

The solution was to rotate these grids such that they can move around freely while getting rid of that tint effect if they aren't perfectly aligned :D

(I have no idea how they came up with these angles but that might be something to look into in the future who knows)

SPEAKING OF MISALIGNMENT

I wanted to implement that in my own filter to get some cool effects, and I discovered another reason CMYK is better than CMY for lots of stuff !!

With CMY, you're relying on the combination of 3 color channels to make the color black. This means if you have thin lines or just details in general, misalignment can make those details very fuzzy. Since CMYK uses a single color of ink to handle value, it reduces color fringing and improves clarity a lot even if you have the exact same misalignment as CMY!

Left: CMY

Right: You guessed it! CMYK

(yes these comparisons have the exact same color misalignment, the only difference is using a fourth ink color for black)

ANYWAY I just thought there was a lot of cool information in this tiny little day project, I also just think it looks really neat and wanted to share what I learned :3c

EDITING BECAUSE THERE'S ONE MORE THING I WANTED TO ADD

So, I talked about how to get K in addition to CMY instead of just CMY, but how exactly do you separate CMY from an image in the first place?

Well, CMY is a subtractive color space, meaning the "absence of color" is white, compared to RGB where it's black. This makes sense because ofc ink is printed on white paper. You can use dot product to get the "similarity" between two vectors, and this can be used to separate RGB actually! Using the dot product of a color and red (255,0,0) will give you just the red values of the image. This is cool though because if we get the dot product of our image and the color cyan (0,255,255), we can get the cyan values from our image too! If we first divide our colors by their value to separate the value from them, then separate CMY using those dot product values, and using K for our final black color value, our individual color passes end up looking like this:

While it's called a "subtractive" color space, I find it more intuitive to treat white as the absence of color here, and then multiply all these passes together. It makes it much easier to understand how the colors are combined imo. Notice how cyan is the opposite of red: (255,0,0) vs (0,255,255) and magenta and yellow are the opposites of green and blue respectively! This means you can actually kinda get away with separating the RGB values and just inverting some stuff to optimize this, but this example is much more intuitive and readable so I won't go too deep into that. THANKS FOR READING I know it's a very long post but I hope people find it interesting! I try my best to explain things in a clear and concise way :3

oh thank you I realized I should probably add an eyestrain tag

[sports-on-sundays]

I’m sorry Ik request are closed but o really need a part 2 of Lando and Oscar

one for two / LN4 & OP81 / Part 2

Summary: Lando x female!Australian!McLaren marketing unit worker!reader x childhood best friend!Oscar - The drama ensues. Two Formula 1 drivers who just so happen to race for McLaren also just so happen to have fallen for you. Picks up straight after where part 1 left off. Takes place from Monaco GP 2024 to Spanish GP 2024. Short time frame, but a lot happens.

Warnings: mention of vomiting, crying, "I'll kill you" joke, swearing, very slight innuendo, if I missed anything let me know

Requested?: Yes, by this anon, everyone who answered in the poll in a way, and by @gracielukey

Author's Note: Fret not, I will be writing a part 3!

“Wait, Y/n, one second-” you hear behind you as a hand wraps itself around your arm. You look back to see Oscar Piastri beaming at you with a smile worth a ton of gold on his face. He’s out of his race suit and now back in regular street clothes: a black t-shirt, blue jeans, and an expensive black watch on his wrist. “I still haven’t given you your birthday gift yet.”

Oh, yeah, that’s right.

Earlier, when both McLaren boys had snatched each of your hands, pulling you in separate directions, both thoroughly excited to show you whatever gift they’ve gotten for you for your birthday, which just so happens to be today, the Monaco Grand Prix, you had shook them both off and waved them on to go do their PR duties.

For once in your life, as someone who is in marketing in McLaren, you got to do a fraction of your actual job concerning the two drivers, and not play the part of both their dramatic love interest.

Yet here you are again, looking back at a handsome Australian boy with earnest brown eyes, waiting for you to come with him so you can see your present.

You sigh, smiling. “Alright, Oscar. Show me this present of mine.”

He leads you to his driver’s room, where he holds the door for you to follow him in, and gently shuts it.

You have a jolting memory of the last time you were led into a driver’s room and the door was shut behind you, and the driver was saying he had something for you. It had been Lando’s driver’s room in Miami, after he won the race, and, well, you’ll never forget what the gift he had for you had been.

Lando’s kiss.

Though it didn’t really change anything at all, it seemed to change absolutely everything.

And now, just standing here, watching Oscar rummage around in his piles and bags of contained mess, you can’t help yourself from blushing as the memory floods back to you.

Oscar snaps you out of your dreams, though, when he straightens, holding up a small box that fits in his palm and a white envelope, and says, “Here… Don’t know if it’s your type of thing, but…”

“Jewelry?” you raise your eyebrows, eyeing the box.

He nods. “I don’t see you wearing jewelry a whole ton, but I thought you might really like this, regardless.”

You smile. “Usually I save it for special occasions, but I like wearing jewelry. Now, let’s see this card here…” He hands it to you, and you open it up. Oscar watches you intently as you begin reading his not-too-messy, not-too-neat handwriting.

Dear Y/n,

I just want to take this opportunity to say how much I appreciate you. You, as a person. Everything about you, I love. Your teasing, your jokes, your playfulness. Your hard work and dedication. You’re so understanding and kind. I love how gentle you are, yet also tough. You’re the perfect balance, for me and for anyone. You have the softest, most beautiful, caring heart, but a tough skin, too, and you can hold your own. You’re so strong and capable, too. I admire you in so many ways.

I love being with you. Time spent with you is my favorite time. Whether we’re just laying or sitting somewhere together, basking in each other’s silence and simply company, or going out somewhere, exploring someplace, and experiencing something together. I love it. I adore it. I love being with you.

Sometimes, I think about when we were little kids. I think about how we’d sit together and whine about how hard it is to be an older sibling, or how this or that rule by our parents was stupid. I remember playing with you, exploring. Even then, Y/n, we were forming a bond, and I think it’s beautiful. I hope we stay like this forever. Together.

I just want to be with you.

I remember as I got older and I moved, I missed you so much. So, so much. We stayed in touch, but you don’t know how much was missing without you always by my side. It’s like in a way you complete me.

I’m so glad that fate and time and whatever else all worked together that today, right now, you can be with me, on your twenty-third birthday. Twenty-three years, Y/n, I’ve known you. You’ve been my best friend. Somehow, we always keep running into each other. Like as if time and space and the universe knows we’re meant to be with each other, for each other, and it won’t let us be separated for too long. Like me and you have a magnet.

I love it, Y/n, and I hope you do, too.

I also love how beautiful you are. Your stunning eyes when they look straight into mine. The way you look over your shoulder and wink teasingly. The way your eyebrows scrunch together when you’re working hard or trying to figure something out. The way you flip your hair, the way you walk, the way you talk, the way you laugh, and the way your touch feels; I love every single little ‘way’ about you. You are it, everything I want. I don’t know what you feel, but I know that for years, I knew it.

I knew I’m supposed to be with you.

If you don’t think so, that’s okay. But just know what I know. Because for years I was terrified to say it, but now, I know.

I know this, Y/n:

I love you. I always have, and I always will.

Yours truly, Oscar Jack Piastri 5/26/24

As you read the last words, you feel a lump forming in your throat as you softly gasp, “Oscar…”

“I’m sorry if it’s a bit over the top,” he says right away with a slightly nervous chuckle. “I don’t mean to seem sappy. I should have just left it at ‘happy birthday’...”

“No, no-”

“I just had a lot to say, I guess,” Oscar mutters, glancing down. “A lot to say, to make up for the years of staying silent.”

“Oh, Oscar, stop!” you laugh, your voice cracking as you suddenly throw your arms around him in a tight embrace. You feel your eyes begin to water as you squeeze them shut tightly and bury your head in his shoulder, murmuring, “This is the sweetest thing I’ve ever read, Osc… You’re going to make me cry…”

As you hug him, it’s like a weight is lifted off his shoulders. He wraps his arms around you back, his hand slowly, absently beginning to rub your back.

You sniff a bit, whispering close to his ear, “That’s just about the most beautiful thing I’ve read… Oscar, I- I, um… I-” love you, too, your brain screams, begging your lips to form the words. You love him, Y/n. You know you do. Just say the words. Just say them.

But you finish with, “I- Thank you so much, Oscar. Thank you.”

He nods, resting his cheek on your head for a few seconds, before murmuring, “Why don’t you open the gift now?”

You nod, slowly leaning away. You mop up your eyes with your hands before taking the box. You slowly open it and gasp when you see a sparkling green gemstone inside, attached to a golden chain. “Oscar…” you breathe. “It’s beautiful…” You slowly begin taking it out of the box.

“Emerald, for May, on a gold necklace chain.”

You stop taking it out of the box to freeze and look up in surprise, eyes wide. “Real emerald? Real gold?!”

“Yes,” Oscar chuckles. “Yes, Y/n. It’s a real emerald on a real gold chain.”

Your jaw drops as you blubber, “Oscar… Oh my God, Oscar… you didn’t have to…”

“I think you’ve forgotten I can afford it. And I would spend any amount of money, if it was for you. But do you like it?”

“What do you mean?!” you exclaim. “What sort of question is that? Of course I like it! I love it!”

At that, the young McLaren driver immediately beams. “Here- want me to put it on you?” You nod vigorously, so Oscar takes the necklace gently from your hands and reaches around your neck to clasp it on you. You feel his soft hands briefly brush the skin of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine, before he takes them away and leans back to view you. “It looks lovely on you. Compliments your features.”

“You really think so?”

He grins with a soft chuckle. “Y/n, I know so.”

Once you’re done sitting with Oscar for a bit after that, just being with him, you exit his driver’s room into the hallway with a tired but contented sigh. You tuck Oscar’s note and the box the necklace came in into your pants pocket, about to get going and continue on with your life, when, once again, you’re interrupted.

You suddenly feel two strong arms wrapping around you from behind as the scent of Lando’s cologne fills your nostrils. He leans close to your ear, rocking you a bit, before murmuring in a gentle, concerned voice, “Hey, Y/n… How are you?”

You smile softly, feeling his warmth against your back. “I’m alright,” you sigh, your head still slightly in the clouds about Oscar’s note and gift.

Lando unwraps his arms from around you and gently guides you by your shoulders to turn around and face him. “What were you doing, hm?” he suddenly asks softly.

“What do you mean?” you ask, eyebrows furrowing.

“In Oscar’s driver’s room. I saw you leave.” His tone is in no way accusatory. Just genuinely concerned.

“Nothing,” you frown, licking your lips. “Why do you care?”

He crosses his arms, the concern mostly falling off his face now as he says simply, reaching up to drag his thumb under your eye, “Because of this.” He holds up his thumb to show the chalky smeared mascara on it. “And because of the redness around your eyes. Are you okay?” The concern comes flooding back as he lifts his other hand to gently touch your cheek. “Did something happen? Did Oscar do something? Y/n, you know you can tell me. You know you can trust me.”

But you can’t help yourself but chuckle. In a way, it’s sweet how caring and worried Lando is acting, looking out for you like that. But also kind of funny that Lando thinks Oscar Piastri even has the capacity to do you any harm, at least not on purpose. So you say, “No, no, Lando! Don’t worry! I’m not upset! Those were happy tears!”

Lando doesn’t look much less concerned, though. “What made you so happy?” he asks carefully.

You sigh, figuring there’s no reason to not tell Lando, at least partially the truth. “Oscar just gave me a super sweet birthday gift is all.”

“Oh,” Lando nods slowly. “What was it?”

You smile and point at the necklace hanging around your neck, resting perfectly in the middle of your chest. “This…”

“Oh,” Lando says again, this time more impressed, looking down at it. “That… It looks beautiful on you.”

You smile wider. “Thanks.”

But then the British man swallows. “I know you’re probably tired and wanting to get back to your hotel room, but I have a gift for you, too.”

“Just make sure it’s not a kiss this time,” you softly tease. “I don’t think my heart can take it right now.”

“No, no, of course not. I actually bought you something for your birthday!” the Brit chuckles, his hand naturally falling to the small of your back as he leads you to his driver’s room. He keeps the door hanging open, though, and you’re sure that’s intentional, to give you more of a sense of reassurance. You appreciate it. “Alright!” he says, clapping his hands together. “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.” You shrug and obey, doing so. You feel him place some light, small item in your hand, before he says, “Alright! Open!”

You chuckle as you open your eyes, teasing, “What was the point of having me close my eyes?”

“So it was a surprise! Now look at what I got you, for God’s sake, Y/n!” he rolls his eyes jokingly.

You look down at the little card in your hand, shaped like a credit card. You bring it to your face and study it, until your eyes widen when you recognize what it is. “Lando, is this…?”

He grins broader as he sees the sparkle in your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. It is.”

“You didn’t have to!” you laugh. A gift card for a free weekend to a luxury spa. You’ve often told Lando how nice it’d be to have a spa day, just relaxing and letting the weight off your shoulders.

But you weren’t expecting it as a birthday gift! And you definitely weren't expecting some expensive luxurious place, and for a whole weekend!

“And,” he smiles, reaching in his pocket to pull out a second, identical card which he places in your hand, too, “A second one, because I figured it’d be no fun alone, so you could bring one of your girl friends or something.”

You throw your arms around Lando and peck his cheek, which is a lot more of an easy thing to do with Lando than it is with Oscar. Oscar, you’re more emotionally connected with. But physically and romantically, you’re a lot more connected to Lando. Lando giggles as you exclaim, “How’d you even think to do this?”

He shrugs. “You talk about it. And you work constantly, so damn hard, you deserve a break. You don’t get enough credit for all you do. Take a weekend to just relax and enjoy, hm?”

You smile and shut your eyes, nuzzling your face into his neck, loving the sentiment, loving the gift, and loving Lando’s attitude in recognizing how hard you do work.

It feels so good to simply be appreciated.

The day after the Monaco Grand Prix, that Monday, Oscar texts you, asking you if you'd like the meet up before you have to go back to the U.K.

You're leaving tomorrow, so it had to be a yes.

Now you sit next to Oscar in his car, in the parking lot, as you buckle your seat belt and Oscar absently drums his fingers on the steering wheel.

Finally you break the silence with, "So, what's the plan, Stan?"

"Um..." Oscar begins, and just by one quick glance, you can see the deep thought written across his face as he looks forward out the windshield.

And you're right. The Aussie's thoughts are raging, about only one thing. And that thing, of course, being you.

He bites his lip, feeling a pang of slight desperation, but mostly just indescision.

He thought the nice note he wrote you for your birthday would've... given more of a reaction. Or maybe the necklace would've pulled at your heartstrings a little more. Just... Just a hug felt wrong to Oscar.

Why doesn't she love me back?

I whisper of a thought in his mind responds, Maybe it's got to do with Lando. Maybe she just simply doesn't love you because she loves Lando more.

He swallows a lump in his throat, pushing that thought out of his mind with, No, Oscar. She said she's got nothing more with Lando than she's got with you. You need to trust her. You know you love her. Therefore, trust her.

Of course, naturally, Oscar has no idea that he really shouldn't trust you.

Prompted by his thoughts, Oscar suddenly asks you, ignoring your own question, "Did Lando get you anything for your birthday? Just asking, because, you know, he had said he had something...?"

"Oh, yeah!" you exclaim. Oscar can't help but recognize the way your face lights up at the mention of merely Lando's name. You continue, "He got me a free weekend to a spa for two people!"

"Oh. You're going to a spa with him?" Oscar says slightly absently.

You laugh. "No, he suggested probably one of my friends. Lando would've told me if he wanted to go."

"Ah, right. Of course."

"Oscar?" you suddenly say, concerned, leaning closer. You place your hand on top of Oscar's drumming fingers on the wheel, forcing the nervous movement to stop. "Is something wrong?"

"Hmmm..." he sighs. Oscar, you've just got to make a move. A real move. Lando is loud, impulsive, fun. He wouldn't second guess.

Maybe you should take a hint from Lando.

Maybe she just needs to see, feel, experience me.

That doesn't sound right.

That doesn't sound like me.

Oscar closes his eyes, leaning back, entwining his fingers around your hand.

I'm not Lando Norris. So is that it?

That's it. I'm just not Lando Norris.

But despite the proclamation in his head, he snaps himself out of it. "Just... thinking back on the race. Sorry."

"Are you sure you're okay, Osc?" you lean in, more concerned.

It's like Oscar can feel his heart being squeezed, warmed. And another, louder, sudden thought enters his mind:

You won't let her go, Oscar, and you know that. You'll fight for her. You'll change for her.

You'll never be Lando Norris, but maybe you've just got to quit overthinking and start acting.

"Alright!" he says, a quite sudden smile appearing on his face as he squeezes your hand. "Yeah, I'm sure." He smiles, bringing your hand to his mouth to gently kiss the back of it.

He doesn't really see the blush on your cheeks when he does that.

He lets go of your hand and says, "Alrighty, let's go. I've got somewhere to bring you."

When you get to the destination, you laugh. "Oscar, it's just a park! You made it seem like you had this big thing planned."

"Oh," he smiles a bit. "Well, sorry. Do you have something against parks?"

"No- I'm just saying-"

"Yes, sure, whatever." He suddenly snatches your hand as he says, "Let's just go for a nice walk."

It's not common for Oscar to just take your hand like that, so confidently. Lando? Sure, all the time. But not really Oscar...

But you kind of like it.

As you walk, you just chat, until you're sure you've walked the entirety of Monaco before Oscar finally gestures to a lone bench in a solitary area, and you sit down together, hands still latched.

But you let go of his, saying with a chuckle, "I just... You know, my hands are sweaty."

"Oh, sure, of course. Mine probably are, too," he responds, running a hand through his hair.

You watch him intently as he does this, and reply a few seconds too late, "Oh, no, no, they're not! I like your hands."

And you immediately blush at the fact you actually just told Oscar Piastri that.

But he looks over with that little crooked teasing smile of his and says, "Do you?"

You grin back and shrug. "Hell yeah."

"Hm. I'll keep that in mind, then."

That makes your mind immediately wander to what he could mean, and you feel bad for what you immediately think of.

Regardless, your face flushes.

And then Oscar makes the decision that he's wanted to make for months, and probably years. His twinkling eye meets yours as he says, "You like my hands? Well I like your lips."

Your breath catches and butterflies well up in your stomach as Oscar leans in closer. His hand gently cups your chin as he looks you straight in your eyes, his softening by the second.

In the exact moment that he should just lean in and kiss you, he hesitates and asks, "Is it okay if I-"

"Oscar! Yes!" you say without thinking.

Yeah, yeah. There you go again. Not thinking again, in the exact moments that you should think about it the most.

Oscar leans in, his head tilting to the side slightly as his soft lips meet yours. Your head spins as he strokes your cheek.

It's not too long and not too short. He pulls away, gazing warmly into your eyes.

There was something different about Oscar's kiss. Lando kissed you and kept kissing you, as if he couldn't get enough. Oscar stopped as soon as he knew it was the perfect time for both of you to pull away. Lando's kiss was hungry, Oscar's wasn't really. He enjoyed it, but...

You don't know.

Oscar's more romantic.

You feel simply by the way he looks at you...

You feel like a jewel. You feel beautiful.

Physically, Lando's kiss was probably better. But emotionally, Oscar's...?

You never knew Oscar could be this romantic. But, to be honest with yourself, Lando's kiss was hotter. Sexier.

God, you loved both.

You groan, falling into Oscar, throwing your arms around him.

Y/n! Y/n! You're comparing the kissing styles of the two guys you kissed without the other knowing!

They both think you're theirs!

"Are you okay?" Oscar immediately asks. "Listen, I'm sorry- Oh, God, listen-"

"No! Oscar, thank you..." you blurt shakily, leaning back to look at him.

"Uh... you're welcome..." He falters, before saying, "So... does this mean you want to be my girlfriend?"

Oh, God.

"Oh, uh, I don't think I'm ready for that- uh-" you begin nervously.

"Right," comes the brown eyed boy's curt response.

Oscar Piastri's vague clean scent fills your nostrils. Or perhaps it's the clean hotel sheets you lay in next to him. His soft touch massages your hand as you hum a song.

You know all the words, but you forgot the tune.

In another reality, he would kiss you and hold you and call you his. You would say without a fragment of a doubt that you are his girlfriend.

Like an arrow to your heart, his voice asks you once more: "Does this mean you want to be my girlfriend?"

You're leaning against his bare chest, listening to his heartbeat, British voice speaking but saying nothing, and you begin, "Oh, uh, I-"

You wake up with a start, gasping. The last thing you remember of your dream was laying with Lando, about to tell him you love him.

What the hell, Y/n?

“What’s up?” you ask as you answer your vibrating cellphone.

Lando Norris on the other end responds, “Nothing much. What’s up with you.”

“Dunno. Just packing up to get ready to be leaving Monaco. But why’d you call?”

“Hey, whoa, whoa,” Lando suddenly says. “Why’re you leaving Monaco so early? Come on, now!”

You sigh with a little smile, rolling your eyes as you throw another shirt in your suitcase. “Lando, this country is uber expensive. There’s no way I’m staying here any longer than I have to. The hotel price is ridiculous, and the rest of the team is leaving, anyway.”

Lando tsks before saying, “Come on, now. You won’t have to pay for a hotel room for extra days, you know. You can stay at my place, duh.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, Lando. You really want me to stay in Monaco.”

“Of course I do. But you know I’d let you stay at my place anytime.”

“Mmmhm. I know…”

“So? What do you say?” Lando asks.

You hesitate, before saying, "Lan, I already told the team I'd be leaving on the plane with them..."

“For God’s sake, Y/n, then tell them you’re not, check out of that damn hotel room, and c’mere!”

“Come where?!” you ask in slight exasperation.

“Where do you think? My flat!”

“Alright, alright, I’ll do that, jeez. Text me your address. But God, why are you getting so worked up about this?”

There’s more silence before the Monaco resident says softer, “I just really want to see you, is all.”

You raise your eyebrows and say softer as you zip up your suitcase. “That’s it?”

“Yeah,” he snorts. “Not good enough for you, princess?” he teases.

“No,” you breathe, a slight smile forming on your face as warmth spreads across it. “No, that’s perfectly, one hundred percent, all the way, good enough for me.”

“Good.” You can hear the grin in Lando’s voice. “Then I’ll see you in a bit, you beauty.”

When you arrive at his flat and he opens the door, Lando wraps his arms around you, patting your back, before letting you go. “Hey, wanna come to the living room?”

“Sure,” you nod, taking in the rooms you go through as he leads you to the living space. You’ve never been in Lando’s flat before, but you have to say, it is thoroughly impressive. Soon, you’re in the living room, and the two of you plop down on the couch together. You sink into it and lean back, saying, “This is comfy.”

Lando just takes your hand and says, “Thanks.”

But you look up at him with a soft teasing smile. “So, are you going to tell me why on earth you suddenly got so clingy? You’re acting like we haven’t seen each other in three years! Just as a reminder, it was just two days ago.”

But Lando smirks, shrugging, and says teasingly, “Maybe I’m just a little obsessed…?”

“Obsessed?” you smile wider, leaning your head onto his shoulder. “Oh, don’t flatter me.”

“Aw, why not? You’re cute when you’re blushing…”

“Lando, stop,” you snort, then add, “We’re supposed to be friends. I don’t think friends say this kind of shit to each other.”

“I like the way you say, ‘we’re supposed to be,’” the race car driver begins.

“Lando! We are friends, and that’s all we’ll ever be!” you respond firmer, but deep down, you have your doubts. Your extreme doubts. Because being with Lando, it never feels like a friendship anymore, and you both know everyday you get closer and closer to finally just admitting you’re dating.

And the only reason why you haven’t yet is because of the certain someone in the way. Oscar Piastri, the sweet Australian boy from your childhood and teenage dreams.

Who kissed you like he meant it yesterday at around this time.

You feel your stomach lurch at the thought.

How can I so shamelessly act like this with Lando, when I know twenty-four hours ago I kissed Oscar back?

You jump when Lando says, almost as if he could hear your thoughts, “Is something wrong?"

You look up in slight surprise, eyes wide. “Uh- of course not. Why do you ask?"

But Lando's frown deepens. "Y/n, stop that. You know I know you're lying. I can see it on your face when something is bothering you."

You bite your lip. "Nothing is."

Lando heaves a big sigh before suddenly pulling you into his lap.

You flinch and lean away in extreme embarrassment, "Lando, what-"

"Just let me hug you, hm? You always say you're fine when you're not and I just want to help you. Let me at least hug you."

You sigh deeply and slowly let yourself lean into him. He strokes your hairline gently, and begins rambling. Lando Rambling, but in a gentle whisper.

You swallow back the huge lump in your throat, and despite your squeezed shut eyes and your raging mind, it's nice.

Until Lando is gently shaking you, and your eyes flutter open as you realize you had fallen into a calm, dreamless sleep against him. You feel his soft, nearly heavenly chuckle vibrating in your ear before you lean your head off his chest slowly. "Rise and shine, princess. You went right to sleep."

You yawn. "Shit, sorry about that..."

But Lando beams. "It's okay. It was cute. And do you feel a bit better now?"

You sigh and nod. "Yeah. I do, actually."

"Good," he grins, eyes twinkling, and leans in to give you a kiss on your cheek. "You probably just needed a nice big long nap."

You sigh.

If only it was as simple as that, Lando.

When I'm with Oscar, he seems like the obvious choice. But then I'm with Lando and he's so sweet and caring and loving and understanding and lighthearted and fun and handsome and perfect and-

And then he seems like the obvious choice.

Oh, Oscar. I couldn't stand to break your heart of gold, though.

And suddenly you freeze as Lando seems to read your mind for a second time, his voice saying softly near your ear, "Is it okay if I call Oscar?"

You snap your head back to meet Lando's eyes. "What reason have you got to call Oscar...?"

“So he can come over.”

You stare at him like he’s the craziest man alive. “Come again?”

“So he can come over and join us, Y/n. But you heard me the first time.”

“What’s your problem?” you asked quite bluntly.

“What’s yours?”

You stare at Lando, completely at a loss for words. Feeling slightly called out, to be honest. You breath deeply, before, with much effort, finally forming the sentence under Lando’s expectant gaze, “Lando, you know that Oscar thinks we’re dating. Even though we’re obviously not. If Oscar shows up… Lando, there’s too much drama you don’t know about. That wouldn’t-”

Lando raises his eyebrows, unimpressed, and says, “I know more than you think I do.”

You swallow, anxiously licking your lips. “Why do you want Osc over?”

“I’ve got some things to talk about with you. And him. With the two of you.”

Your face scrunches up as you ask hopefully, “About work?”

“Nope,” Lando says sternly as he opens his phone, scrolling his contacts, looking for Oscar’s.

You’re starting to get nervous. Real nervous. “Lando, please,” you begin, your voice laced with a certain amount of fear as you take the man’s hand. “Lando, what are you trying to do? Why? Lando, I… I’m not ready… Can you talk to me first?”

Lando looks up at you. “You clearly know what I’m doing, then, otherwise you wouldn’t be so panicked.”

“Of course I do…” you breathe. How the hell did it come to this?

Why did I think Lando was stupider than this? To not see the writing on the wall? To not see what’s clear as day?

Lando leans in closer, wrapping both his hands around yours. He stares you straight in your eyes. Everything about his actions is gentle, but his voice is painfully stern as he begins nearly whispering, “Y/n. I’m sick of this, and Oscar is, too. And you’ve had enough of this, too, whether you think you have or you haven't. I understand to a certain degree what’s been going on, but I don’t think Oscar has allowed himself to. We need to, the three of us, talk this over and figure this out. Pretending isn’t going to do you any good any longer, Y/n. And I think me and Oscar can both agree on the fact that we just want the best for you, yeah? So I know this is hard, but if you wait any longer, the situation will just get worse and worse. And now I’ve figured you out, so let’s just deal with this together, the three of us, and be honest. Okay?”

You hesitate as your eyes start to water.

You feel like you want to throw up.

I never wanted this to happen. I never wanted it to come to this. I just wanted it to work itself out on it’s own. I didn’t want Lando or Oscar to know. I wanted to figure it out alone.

“Lando,” you sniff, your voice cracking. Lando leans over to one of the end tables to grab a tissue, which he uses to wipe a tear rolling down your cheek. As you continue to cry, he hands the tissue to you and begins holding your hand as you use the other to rest your heavy head against it.

You sit there together for a while as you just cry, working through the emotions of the last months. Once you’re finally done, Lando says gently, “It might not get any easier, but please, Y/n. If you’re honest with me and Oscar, I hope you know that we’ll always be ready to help you and be there for you.”

“I know that…” you sniff. “It’s just… I don’t want to lose either of you, Lando. I can’t stand to imagine losing either of you.”

Lando nods slowly, and murmurs, “I can’t speak for Oscar, but just so you know, whatever happens, no matter what, you’ll always be my friend. And I’ll always be there for you. M’kay?”

You nod slowly, wiping your eyes one last time, those words providing just enough comfort for the time being.

“Alright,” Lando says, gently patting your hand. “Can I call Oscar? I’m sure I’ll be able to convince him to come over.”

“Yeah,” you smile weakly. “Unless he’s still sleeping.”

Lando nods and grins as he picks up his phone again to call Oscar Piastri.

When Lando goes to open the door, you follow close behind him, fiddling with your fingers anxiously. When he does open it, a surprised Oscar immediately sees you behind him and exclaims your name in shock. "Why are you here?"

"I invited her, too," Lando replies confidently, as if this is all completely normal, looking Oscar straight in his sweet brown eyes.

"Ah," Oscar nods slowly. "I can see that." He smiles awkwardly at you as Lando brings him in. He mostly just looks thoroughly confused, but doesn't take his eyes off you for a second.

Soon, you're all seated around Lando's dining room table, you and Oscar on one side, facing a lone Lando on the other side, feeling like you're about to be interrogated.

While Lando doesn't ask, 'Where were you at the time of the murder?' he does say, "I think we've all got some thing to be honest about. Oscar, I mentioned it on the phone to you, but I think all three of us have got some... stuff to discuss."

Neither you or Oscar say anything. You're too nervous to speak, and Oscar's too confused.

Lando sighs, seeing neither you or Oscar have nothing much to say, and says, "Alright, then." He slaps his palms down on the table. "Oscar, you and Y/n... You'd like to date her, yeah?"

Immediately Oscar's eyes widen, and his hand tightens around his cellphone in his hand as his pale cheeks redden. "I- What sort of-"

"Do you?"

"Yeah," Oscar admits carefully, but sort of bluntly.

"I'd like to date Y/n, too."

Oscar stares at Lando. His grip on his phone tightens slightly, but that's the only sign of a reaction his body shows as he says softer, "Well, of course."

Lando's gaze averts to you.

You sigh. The awkwardness in the air is making it stuffy and hard to breathe. The tension in the room is thick enough to cut.

"Y/n?" Lando prompts.

Your words get caught in your throat, and instead comes out a weak cough.

Apparently Oscar takes it as a sob, because immediately his hand is on your back, and he's leaning close, saying softly, "Y/n. Are you okay?"

As you bury your face in your hands and nod, you don't catch the dirty look Oscar throws Lando, and Lando's effort to ignore it. Once you've caught your breath, you barely get out, "I love you both."

Oscar's hand slips off your back as Lando reaches across the table to take your hand in his.

"I- you-" Oscar begins, before his eyes turn on Lando. "You knew about this, Lando? You knew?" You can feel the stress and, frankly, anger, radiating off of him as Oscar says, turning to you, "Y/n, I told you if you loved Lando, you could let me go. I would've taken it..." He runs a hand through his hair. "I would've. Y/n, I swear I would've. Why'd you have to play with my heartstrings? Why'd you do that, Y/n? Why'd you do that to m-"

"Oscar, stop!" Lando suddenly snaps, standing up. "Don't you see the state she's in? This is harder for her than it is for you!"

"Just stop fighting," you barely whisper.

Neither men hear you as Lando grabs Oscar's wrist and tells you sternly, "Y/n, you just stay here. I'm gonna go talk with Oscar alone, if that's fine."

But Lando doesn't wait for your input before he tugs Oscar out of the room and slams the door behind him. You suppose it wouldn't matter much anyway. It's not like you would have any idea what to say, anyway, if you'd have been given the chance.

You stare ahead in a strange mixture of regret and dread. Fear of past decisions and fear of future decisions, too.

After the door slams, unbeknownst to you, Lando immediately shoves Oscar against the wall and snaps, "What the hell, man?"

A long breath exits Oscar's lungs as he stares back into Lando's hazel eyes. "What?" he sighs.

"Don't you see she's in distress? Give the girl a break-"

"I need to give her a break? Lando, I kissed her. Do you think I would've fucking done that if I knew she was seeing you? We can both say it was all friendships all along, but we also both know this's bullshit." Oscar gulps before muttering, "She's a fucking cheater."

"No, she's not!" Lando suddenly defends. "You just don't understand."

"Yeah! Clearly I don't," Oscar says gruffly.

"So are you going to let me explain what I think went on?"

"Why don't we hear it straight from her? You could very well be biased."

"Do you think she wants to say it? Oscar," Lando sighs. "Won't you just listen to me?"

Lando watches as the Australian bites his lip, before saying, "Have you kissed?"

"Once."

"Same..." Oscar hesitates once more before asking, "So it's just the 'friend' thing? She's in love with both of us so she's been convincing herself she can stay both our friends forever."

"Well... right. And neither of us knew that was going on, and... Yeah, you know."

"How'd you find out?"

"It became too obvious. But Oscar, you've had your suspicions before the beginning."

Oscar sighs, staring down. "Right. So. She denied it because she loved us both."

"That's what I'm reckoning."

"What did she think she'd accomplish? Why did she think letting that happen would do any good? We both thought she was single. And technically, she was, but not really, because, we- you- I- you- you know..." Oscar trails off before dragging his hand across his face and leaving it over his eyes. "Oh, God."

"It's complicated," Lando nearly whispers.

"You... You can say that again..." Oscar breathes, his voice cracking as his other hand goes to his face, his pointer and middle finger pressing hard into his temple.

"Oscar?" Lando suddenly asks, his hand resting on the younger man's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Shit... I don't know..."

"Oscar, are you-"

"No- I mean, I am, but-"

Oscar is interrupted by Lando's arms suddenly wrapping around him in a hug and Lando murmuring, "Now both of you are crying?"

Oscar, despite himself, finds his face falling into Lando's shoulder as he begins, his voice just slightly hoarse, "I'm not crying, by the way. It's just... Lando, I've been in love with her for years; I swear, probably a decade by now. And I've known her literally my whole life. A part of me just always expected she'd always be there and I'd always just... that I'd always have enough time to wake up one morning and ask her out. I should have done it quite literally years ago. But I didn't and that's why we're here now, me feeling as if I have more of a right to her love, though really, I'm not worthy of her at all." Oscar lets out a shakily breath before adding, "I regret it so, so much, Lando."

Lando's arms around him tighten. "I'm so sorry."

"You don't have anything to apologize for."

"Osc, I just want her to be happy. But I know her dating me isn't the solution. Because she'd be devastated to date me but not you, and vise versa. She's head over heels for us both."

Oscar gulps. "Well, then what the hell do you suggest?" He leans away from Lando, wiping at his eyes with his thumb.

"Oh, Oscar," Lando sighs deeply. "I don't fucking know."

After that, the two stand in silent contemplation, worrying, pondering. Feeling. Emotion. Passion. Pain.

Before Lando finally says carefully, as if walking on eggshells, "...What if we both dated her...? Just kept doing what we've been doing, but the other one knows about it, so she doesn't have to feel guilty about it, but we both still... you know, get to date her?"

Oscar bites his lip. "Couldn't that get complicated?"

"Of course it could..." Lando trails off, before picking up more positively, "But sometimes the easier way isn't the right way, Oscar. We both know it'd make her happier to date us both. And we both know we'd both be happier if we could date her, yeah?"

Oscar's silent, considering, his eyes slightly glazed over, despite the battle that's going on inside his mind.

"Osc...? Osc, please, mate. I think it's the best shot we've got. It'd mean the world to me-"

"Yeah," Oscar suddenly interrupts with a nod, leaning off the hallway's wall. "Yeah, I get what you're saying. We can try that Lando," he says curtly, almost hollowly as he suddenly reaches for the door handle back to the dining room where you sit.

But right before his hand meets the knob, Lando snatches it away in his own, pulling Oscar to face him again.

Oscar can't help but feel awkward at how close his face is to the other Formula 1 driver's, and averts his eyes to the floor because of this.

But Lando responds simply, "Oscar, look at me. In my eyes."

Oscar sighs and looks up, meeting the strong eyes of Lando Norris. "What?" he barely whispers.

"Thank you so much, okay?" Lando murmurs, squeezing Oscar's hand.

To Oscar, everything seems wrong. Why is he standing with his teammate, his rival, this close, holding hands, with such intense eye contact? This should be just him and you. Lando shouldn't be a part of this.

How was he so stupid to let Lando ruin it all?

Oscar, just try to trust Lando? Maybe he's right? You can conform for now, but don't conform with malice. Only allow yourself to feel anger towards Lando after it all falls apart because of him.

"'Kay," Oscar mutters back.

"And, listen, Oscar. I hope you know you can trust me. I care about you, too. So much. I like you so much. So, please. Just be real with me. M'kay?"

"Of course... Can we go back and see Y/n now?" Oscar mumbles, feeling slightly uncomfortable at Lando's extreme sincerity.

Alright, maybe more than just slightly uncomfortable.

"Sure," Lando nods, and the two men come walking back in.

They sit down, and once they've finished explaining to you their idea, you ask, "So, you're saying we all date? The three of us, together?"

"Yeah," Lando responds with a smile at the same time as Oscar responding, "Well, sort of-"

Both your pairs of eyes turn to Oscar. He swallows and adds, "I mean, yeah. Of course. Just sounds weird to me, for three people to be dating, but it's just because I'm not used to it, you know? It's good. It's fine."

"Oscar, are you sure you're okay with that idea?" you venture.

But there's no way Oscar's going to say anything but a convincing, "Of course!" after the way he saw your eyes immediately light up in hope when Lando explained his idea of the three of you dating.

So you nod, taking that answer, but just ask one more tentative question, "So, you two... you're okay with... you.. you know..."

Before Oscar's brain can even completely comprehend what you're asking, Lando throws his arm around Oscar's shoulders and exclaims, "Of course, Y/n! Me and Osc get on great! Plus, he's not so bad himself-"

And in that moment, you witness Lando lean into kiss Oscar's cheek just as Oscar turns to look at Lando to speak and-

Lando ends up pecking Oscar on his lips.

Oscar's eyes practically pop out of his head, and Lando, to be honest, looks somewhat surprised himself. But you're sure Oscar's brains are about to begin running out his bright red ears as his whole face goes fire hydrant red. "Oh..." he just manages, his hand dragging over his lip.

Lando laughs slightly awkwardly, deciding to pretend he meant to do that. He gives the other driver a pat on his shoulder before saying, "You know, Y/n, you know how flustered Oscar can get with you? Imagine how bad it could be with me. You know, me being so hot and sexy and-"

You giggle nervously and interrupt, "Yeah, yeah, Lando. I get what you're saying."

As the visit at Lando's flat goes on that day, you and Lando loosen up a fair amount at the whole prospect of the three of you dating, but Oscar doesn't seem to budge. Oscar ends up leaving early, so before you go to bed that night, you stop to bring up your nervous concern to Lando: "Lando, I just don't know if Oscar wants to do this... I mean, he doesn't seem comfortable... I just... I think he really doesn't like the idea of dating another guy... I mean, maybe he's- you know, he's not- He doesn't have those feelings for men-"

"Oh, gosh, Y/n, don't worry about that," Lando reassures you and himself, quite honestly. "He'll come around. Oscar just needs time." He adds with a tease, "I mean, who can resist me?"

"You're suggesting you're so hot you can turn straight men gay?" you ask, completely unimpressed, crossing your arms.

"No, no! Trust me, Y/n, Oscar Piastri is not a straight man to even begin with."

"But-"

"Shh. You're probably just tired. Go on, you're eyes are shutting on themselves. Just lean on me."

"But Lando-"

He pecks your lips and murmurs close to your ear, "I've got you here, Y/n. Leave all your worries for tomorrow morning, and until then, I'll deal with the rest."

"Are you sure?"

"Never been more sure," Lando comments, yawning himself as you sigh, resigned, and snuggle into his chest.

You're practically out cold within minutes, which leaves Lando time to sit alone with his thoughts, stroking your hair, worrying and thinking.

What if she's right? What if this just isn't going to work with Oscar?

I thought maybe he'd be more open.

Oh, God. I don't want to hurt either of them, one bit. I love Y/n. I know I do, and I have for so long now.

And Oscar? I'm so fond of him.

Ah, here I go again. Fuck me and my distracted, wandering, boyish heart.

Just like with Carlos. Just like with Daniel.

I don't know I feel it until in one moment, one instance, they smile in a certain way or say a certain joke or do a certain thing in a certain way and-

And suddenly I'm mad in love with yet another person.

Oh, Lando Norris. If only you could date everyone in the world you ever loved.

Then I'd be dating a lot more than just two people. And on the first day of dating two people, it's already a mess.

And it's all my fault.

I guess I'll just have to be the one who fixes it all, then, too.

"Oh, uh, good morning!" you chuckle as you see both Lando's and Oscar's heads turn almost in unison when you enter the room in McLaren HQ. "When did you two arrive in the U.K.?"

"Yesterd-"

"This morning!" Lando beams, throwing his arms around you.

"Oh, alright," you chuckle again. "It's so nice to see both of you..." You smile awkwardly as Lando pulls away and Oscar pats your shoulder when a sudden thought comes into your head.

Is this something the three of us should keep a secret?

Strangely (and stupidly) enough, you forgot to discuss that.

"Hey, uh, it's great you're both here right now. I've got to talk to you about, uhm- some of the media plans we have for you regarding Canada... Let's talk in the hall; don't want to disturb people working in here."

Lando raises his eyebrows as Oscar takes on a perplexed look. Once you're out in the hall together, you lean close and are about to speak when Lando interrupts with a smirk, "So, anyway. What about those... 'media plans' 'regarding Canada'...?"

"Oh, shut it, you!" you grin, realizing how much in just a little over a week away you missed Lando.

Oscar suddenly gently takes your hand by your side and says, "Oh, come on, Lando. Y/n, what did you want to say to us."

And you suddenly realized how much you missed Oscar, too, in only a little over a week.

"Well," you start, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "About this... relationship... Should we... you know, keep it a secret?"

"I... think so," Oscar says carefully, squeezing your hand. "Imagine the media's response. And the fans: the fans would be unbearable."

Lando crosses his arms and whines, "So you're saying I can't even show my affection for you two? Oscar, we're always on camera."

Did Lando just say you two? you can't help but suddenly wonder.

"Maybe you are, but there's ways of avoiding it," Oscar comments, not seeming to hear.

Hm. Maybe I heard wrong.

Because deep down inside, despite your secret desires, you know that Lando and Oscar just agreed to this for you, and have no specific liking for each other.

And that's the thing that's making you nervous that this whole thing has no chance of working out.

"Boys. I agree with Oscar," you sigh. "Lando, I work in marketing and public image type stuff. If anyone knows about this, it's me. And I agree with Osc. It'll do us no good to make this public. Let's just keep it on the down-low."

"Can we at least make a compromise?" Lando ventures.

"Go on," you sigh.

"We can at least still keep acting like we're mad in love with you," Lando laughs. "Because we've been doing that this whole time. Just no one has to know about the dating. I mean, it'll seem off if that suddenly stops."

You bite your lip but murmur, "Fair enough."

Lando grins and comments, "I gotta meeting now. See you two later," giving each your shoulders a pat.

Once Lando is gone, you turn to Oscar and murmur, letting go of his hand to touch his arm gently "Hey, Oscar. Are you alright?"

Your childhood best friend looks to you, a smile immediately forming on his face. But his eyes remain a bit hollow, a bit sad. "Of course I'm alright. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know... You haven't seemed yourself today, I guess is all."

Of course she says that, Oscar thinks. She's the one that knows me best, anyway.

"I don't? Well, I'm fine... I'm sorry if I don't seem it," Oscar responds, attempting to brighten his smile. "Anyways, I've got to be off, too, actually," he says, checking his expensive watch. He leans in to peck your lips as his hand brushes your waist, before waving and offering, "Catch you later, lovely!"

The combination of his affectionate gestures and him calling you 'lovely' kind of makes your head spin.

You lay next to Lando, absently stroking his cheek and chin, feeling his facial hair, as he holds you close, tracing sweet words with his gentle fingers into your back.

You sigh, completely contented in the practically perfect moment. You're in Spain, and it's Saturday night- the Spanish Grand Prix is tomorrow. You ended up taking the last Grand Prix weekend in Canada off, for your spa weekend. Either way, before the race tomorrow, Lando invited you for some snuggles in his hotel room, and there's no way you could say no to that.

So here you are.

But suddenly Lando whispers, "Do you think I should invite Oscar?"

Your heavy eyes seem to immediately open and sharpen at this suggestion. You take a moment to ponder his question, before asking one of your own instead of answering his: "Lando, do you like Oscar?"

"Y/n, of course I like Osc-"

"No, no, Lando. I mean... you know..." you begin carefully, "Do you like Oscar the way you like me?"

There's silence in the room as the air conditioner becomes deafeningly loud suddenly. You can hear a long, slow sigh escape from Lando's lips, into the air, before he slowly says, "Oh, Y/n. I've liked lots of people the way I've liked you in the past."

You smile a little. "I know. You're Lando Norris, for God's sake. Of course you have. But today, right now, in this moment, do you like Oscar the same way you like me?"

Lando presses his forehead into your shoulder before uttering quieter, "If I did, it wouldn't matter."

"Why not?" you prod.

"Because, Y/n, there's no way he likes me in the same way he likes you."

You sigh slowly, feeling a slight pang at hearing those words. You wrap your arms around Lando and pull him closer to you. "What do you like about Oscar...?" you whisper.

"Oh, fuck me, Y/n. Everything. His stupid sense of humour, the way he laughs at all my jokes, the way he looks at me with those brown eyes, the little birth marks all over him, how polite and calm and cool-headed and cooperative and agreeable and smart and sensible and friendly and genuinely good he is. His voice, too! His mentality. Don't fucking tell anyone this, or I will kill you, but I even like the way he's a little bit taller than me. I love his stupid hair and his big smile. His hands... I love them. I love everything about him. I love him, and it's like it all just hit me. I don't know, Y/n. I just don't know."

You lean in and peck his lips before whispering, "Oh, Lando Norris. I love him, too, for all the same reasons. And I love you, too."

"The thing is, Y/n," he barely whispers, "that he'll never, ever love me back."

That feels like a stab to your heart.

You can't imagine how it feels to Lando.

You cuddle him so close, and you hold each other so close, that you can feel his heart pounding in his chest. "Lando," you whisper. "I wish it could all just work out."

"Me, too, Y/n.

"Me too."

"Heyyy, Osc!" you grin, knocking on his open driver's room door. "You feeling good for the race?"

He smiles to see you in the door. "Yeah, I am. Come on in. Thanks for coming to see me, Y/n."

"Of course. It's a treat to see your handsome face."

He beams wider but rolls his eyes, "Oh, yeah?"

"Of course!" you giggle a bit.

"Well, do I get my pre-race hug, then?"

You grin and throw your arms around him, giving him a big kiss on his cheek, "You'll also be getting a post-race hug, too, when you win it!"

"Well, I guess that's always the goal, but we'll see about that." He leans back to look at you, gazing so warmly, so intensely for just a second, into your eyes, before looking away. He opens his mouth to say something, but then quickly closes it.

"What is it, Oscar?" you prod.

"I just wanted to say I love you."

You grin. "Don't ever hesitate to say that again. You don't need to, because I love you, too. And you and Lando better stay safe out there on the track today for me, okay?"

"Oh, alright, and the rest of the grid can all die; they don't matter," he teases.

"Oh, shut it, you!" you laugh, exiting his driver's room with a wave, "Go on and get ready for your race now!"

"Bye!" he laughs.

"Bye, bye, Osc!"

You lay on the bed in Lando's hotel room where you laid just last night, but this time, there's two people laying with you rather than just one.

Oscar is fast asleep on your right side, his right arm draped over your body and his head resting against your shoulder. Lando is on your left, still awake, gently rubbing your left hand absently as he runs his hand through his messy curls.

"Do you think Osc-"

"Ah-" Lando exclaims softly with a little flinch. "I thought you were sleeping already!" he laughs a bit.

You nod, waiting a few seconds before reasking your question, "Do you think Oscar is feeling better about the whole thing?"

"Oh, God, Y/n, I don't know. I think he's just kind of rolling with the punches," Lando sighs deeply. "He just wants you. He'll do anything to have you. Even sleep in the same bed as me."

"Oh... right..." you sigh, wrapping your arm around the sleeping Oscar, pulling him closer to you as you rest your head in the little nook between Lando's cheek and shoulder.

You shut your eyes, trying to force yourself to sleep, but your thoughts are raging, just like Lando's.

Why can't it all just be right? Why does it have to be so difficult? Is this the right thing? Should we give up on it?

Why can't the three of us just be right for each other?

This whole mess is all your fault, Y/n.

Your uncertain heart pounds in your ears, faster and faster, making you nearly go insane.

[speed-world]

Hi, I'm not sure if you'll see my request, but I want to ask. Whooh.. [worried and worried] So calm... can I ask you to write Cookie Run Kingdom Self-awareness Au with a human child y/n? And what does the ancients and the cookies of darkness have to do with the fact that their world is just a game? Well, when the ancients and the cookies of darkness found out about this, all the cookies would want to get to know child y/n and the Dark Enchantress changed her mind from leading the world and then a new dispute began about who would protect and take care of child y/n. [If possible, then let y/n get into the midst of the final battle of the Ancients against the Dark Enchantress cookie and if you don't mind, then let the character of little y/n be the most attractive and sweet in the world and his appearance charming so much that even the trading monsters and cake hounds did not want to cause any harm and even pomegranate cookies and Licorice cookies were kind to baby y/n] I would very much like you to tell me this sweet story about it. ^^

(Sorry this took so long, I really hope this is to your liking, as I wrote it with the idea of a school age child [6-12] and I didn’t do everything in the request)

Terrifying New Dawn

Everything was dark around you, so much so that you couldn’t see your own hand in front of your face. The last thing you remember clearly was playing on your phone before going to sleep, and now you were waking up here….in a deforested area with dark and red shadows clouding the sky. You had so many questions: Where are your parents? Where are you?? Why are…the large walls surrounding you so tasty looking?! As you stirred, you heard the muttering of smaller beings that surrounded you. Shock and confusion were written on all of their faces as they just stared at you lying down…

“It seems like they’re waking up…how on Earthbread did this even happen?”

“I…I have no idea. Why would a child of the Witches suddenly come down here, during a war of all things…?”

Your vision began to clear up more, and you quickly realized where you were. You were surrounded by Cookies…and you recognized all of them!! These were all recognizable faces from the game you were playing earlier: CookieRun: Kingdom! How exciting is this!! Granted, you also realized something more grim than exciting…you’re still you: a human child in a game world of Cookies. You were dang near a giant to them, and they looked scared of you…how can you convince them you aren’t a threat? Maybe…just say hello?

“Pure Vanilla, Dark Cacao, Hollyberry, Golden Cheese, White Lily, and even Dark Enchantress Cookie?! H-hello…it’s really cool to see you all-“

“T-this child knows us?! They wouldn’t be…a baker or a witch, would they?!”

Okay…not the reaction you wanted…but how do you explain yourself to them? You most certainly aren’t a “child of the Witches,” nor are you a Witch at all!! Would telling the truth hurt? No…it couldn’t hurt!! It’s just the truth, and your parents always told you that lying wasn’t good for anyone, so telling the truth must be perfect!!

“No, no, I’m nothing like that! I’m just a kid that was playing your cool game! I don’t know what happened to my phone though…but I was playing as you guys in this exact moment, where you were fighting each other! Neat, right?”

Your childish innocence only made things worse. The Cookies around you froze in complete shock from the slow realization, a truth far more painful than the one Dark Enchantress Cookie was dead set on making others see. They were pixels on a screen,…predetermined script for you to mess around with, …fake…. If it wasn’t obvious, they weren’t happy with this realization at all, especially the one who’s apparently been forced to play the villain’s role…

“What…what kind of perverse joke is this? You mean to tell me that my ambitions, everything I’ve worked tirelessly for, my life…has been worthless this entire time?! The truth I meant to share with all Cookiekind…is nothing more than wasted breath compared to this…”

Dark Enchantress Cookie stood utterly defeated, still trying to process what reality now means to her. The Ancients, ironically, were united with Dark Enchantress here. None of them knew what to properly make of their lives now. But, there was now a more pressing issue: you. You were a child, a lost one at that. You had no home to go to, no family to look after you, and you were rather…unfitted for the Cookie world as you were now. Oddly enough, the first one to address this was none other than Dark Enchantress herself!

“Ah, yes….despite everything, you, child, are our greatest concern of the moment. Seeing as how all I’ve strived for is now utterly meaningless, I’ve changed my mind. I no longer have any desire to continue this war with you Ancient heroes, or any other Cookies of the matter. From now on, this child is my concern, and I’ll watch over them as I see fit.”

“W-what?! You can’t be the one to watch over them! You’d misguide and harm them, and no matter who they are, they don’t deserve that harsh life!”

“All you do is assume rather than listen…I’ve made it abundantly clear that I have no more interest in any of my former ideals, as they clearly have no substance anymore. If it makes you happy to satisfy your role as a ‘hero’, then we can all help this child adjust to this world properly. Surely if we come together with our magic and wits, we can at least ideally make them a body better suited to live amongst us, wouldn’t you agree~?”

The Ancients stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity to decide your fate, before one radiant Ancient approached you. She looked up at your towering stature with welcoming eyes.

“Child, do know that this is ultimately your decision. The last thing either of us would want is to do anything to you that could harm you. Your safety and wellbeing is our shared priority, but you could pose a danger to us in the state you’re currently in. If you so wish, we can find a way to assist you to live in this world without issue until we find a way to bring you back to your home…what do you say?”

It felt like no matter what you chose, you’d be completely safe and cared for no matter what. You noticed that as you were pondering, a horde of cake hounds and other monsters of Dark Enchantress’s forces circled you and virtually showered you with affection, which you found so adorable!! The cake hounds would play around your large body and playfully puppy kiss you!

It’s clear as day that these Cookies care for you, first and foremost, and everything else around you did as well. They wouldn’t cause you harm, they wouldn’t even want you to cry or be afraid, they loved you like nothing else, and hoped that your new life here wouldn’t be anything to be afraid of!

[readychilledwine]

✨️ACOTAR Hands Handcanons✨️

Warnings - sexual references

A/N - "But liz! Where is Az?" I didn't include Azriel because I don't think some people understand how brutally scarred his hands are. A lot of people headcanon him wear rings and watches to distract from his scarring, but his scarring would be so brutal from his hands being set on fire with oil that wearing jewelry for him would be nearly impossible and more than likely very uncomfortable both physically and in the sense that jewelry will draw attention to his hands, something we know canon Azriel hates. If it is wanted, I will do a reblog with Azzy's hands, but they will be accurate, not pretty.

Also, if you're a hand whore like I am, you have to go look at this post from the lovely @thehighladywrites about asking for hand pics 🥵🥵 it's one of my favorites.

✨️ Acotar Body Headcanons Masterlist ✨️ Master Masterlist ✨️

Rhys

Rhys is a firm believer in hands speaking of how well you care for yourself, so the man have perfect hands.

Rhys keeps his nails neat and trimmed, his cuticles cut, and his nail bed moisturized.

Rhys has fine hand creams imported from across the seas. It's made with water from some river you don't remember the name of. It matches his skincare line. Very spoiled Illyrian baby.

Rhys does have calloused hands, but they are not rough and dry. The calloused mainly rest towards the top of his palm near where his fingers begin. It's one small sigh of his skill with blades.

Rhys like to accessorize, but not too much, a few unique rings and a bracelet

Cassian

We're just here to make sure @sarawritestories can't sleep without dreaming of Cassian.

These are some of my favorite hands in all of Hollywood. Say hello to the hands of Alexander Skarsgård. His hands are massive.

Cassian does have rougher hands, but he can not help it. He's tried Rhysie little princess routine, but it doesn't work. That is more than likely due to the fact that he's constantly training and teaching someone.

You truly do not mind, though. Cassian's callouses and small scars in his hands remind you that you are safe. That no one will ever harm you as long as he is around.

One of Cassian's favorite acts of service you provide for him is little at home hand care sessions. You will soak his hands in warm water and then wash and care for them. You trim his nails, apply cuticle oils, and then use a very expensive lotion that helps keep his hands softer.

Cassian's hands are constantly on you. His favorite placement is when he gets to cup under your breasts. Preferably below your shirt. And he doesn't care who sees him doing it. His second favorite placement is your hips or ass.

Cassian does not accessorize since he rarely does not have his hand siphons on. The only jewelry on his hands is his wedding band

Lucien

Soft, warm, and gentle. Lucien's hands are a personification of the male himself.

They are not too large, but they're definitely big, and Lucien has strong hands.

Lucien tries his very best to keep his hands very soft he is constantly greeting and meeting new fae as an emissary, so he ensures his hands are covered while training.

Lucien also knows you appreciate how soft his hands are. He loves watching as you lean into his touch. He loves watching you shiver when he runs them along your body.

Lucien will wear jewelry for special occasions. Otherwise, he tends to avoid it. You never know when he will need to fish with his hair and bare hands to impress you. He had a reputation to maintain there.

Eris

Eris is constantly wearing rings and fine jewelry. His hands are part of his mask of cruelty only you and a few others get to see beyond.

Eris hates his hands. He hates how they've been used to cause pain. He hates how they remind him of his father's, he hates the small scars on them.

It almost confuses him when his hands bring you pleasure. When he watches as you fall apart under his touch.

He has started to care for them more now that he has you. His beautiful wonderful you.

You have noticed the rough skin getting softer. How his nail beds seem healthier. You catch him one night with his expensive hand creme and cuticle oils and your heart melts.

Soon, the jewelry becomes a little less and less, but you told him it would be a lie of you ever said you didn't love the way rings sat on his slender hands.

Nesta

Nail, simple, and with a touch of sparkle.

Nesta keeps her hands very pretty and very soft.

Her nails are also always professionally done on Rhysand's dime.

Nesta goes to the salon once a month. She gets the works. The expensive manicures. Rhys owes her, and she wants pretty hands.

Her grandmother and mama told her hands can make or break a marriage, and this is something she can not shake.

She loves clean, simple polish. Neutral colors or a French tip, that's all. For special occasions, she will do an iridescent polish.

As Lady Death, she tries not to wear too much jewelry, but she does have two favorite rings she wears. One from you, one from Cassian.

Elain

I am a garden hobby girl, so this one was fun.

Elain keeps her nails very short. She is constantly struggling with dirt under and around her nails, so she figures keeping them short is best.

Elain has surprisingly rough hands. A garden is a lot of manual labor, and she refuses to wear gloves, so she constantly dealing with little cuts and callouses.

You bought Elain a nail brush and special soaps meant to help her keep her nails clean so it doesn't interfere with her love of baking or... other activities involving you.

Elain's hands are very small, but they fit perfectly into yours.

Feyre

This is the hands I identified most with.

Feyre's hands are constantly covered in paint now that the lands are in a time of peace.

She's been known to wipe her palette knife off on the back of her hand or dab a paint brush on them if she picks up too much color. Or use them to swatch shades as she's mixing.

It is messy, but you adore it. You love helping her peel off the bigger chunks and helping her scrub them clean.

Underneath that paint, her hands can be a little dry, so you two have been caught many times sneaking into Rhysand's room to steal his hand creme.

Feyre keeps her nails a medium length. She will paint them for fun every so often, but she sees no point since they are typically covered in her medium of choice.

Mor

The baddie of the group.

Mor keeps her hands ready to greet royalty. They are so soft, so well kept, and constantly being pampered.

Mor used hand creme at least once and hour.

She keeps her nails longer, minus two on each hand. Iykyk.

Her nails have to be red. She will not paint them any color but her power color.

She is constantly wearing a ton of rings and jewelry as well.

I personally see Mor as a gold tone girlie.

The only ring she consistently wears is her wedding ring. Otherwise, all her other jewelry is subject to change.

Amren

Nails sharp enough to rip your eye out. Sorry, Lucien.

Amren sees her hands as weapons and her nails as weapons as well. But like all powerful weapons, they need to hidden.

She hides them using fae beauty standards. Manicures, jewelry, nail polish. Amren fully believes she's fooling other fae with those daggers attached to five small fingers but she isn't.

Amren does not do two curtesy nails. Amren is a starfish. You should be spoiling her. Not the other way around.

Finding out she could do jewels on her manicure was a life changing moment for her.

She practically purrs when she gets a fresh set now.

You swear she is secretly a fire drake with the amount of jewelry she has for her hands and on her nails.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites

[therethatstar]

phum and peem are truly so funny.

because phum's type is literally a dude who kicks him in the balls. who side eyes him on the regular. who has a default 'angry kitten' face every time he looks at him. who kisses him after he shows appreciation for his time. who doesn't really talk sweet so phum goes out of his way to reiterate that he normally doesn't like sweets anyways. who continues to 'act' annoyed at phum's presence but will let phum kiss him again and again. who has a specific tone reserved just for phum. who babies the shit out of phum, little does he know he's healing phum's inner child. who is so so so forgiving of phum. who is always ready to listen to phum, to hear him out. who is patience with him. who is more than ready to love phum as he is, so unconditionally. who is willing to figure all of this out together with phum.

and peem's type is essentially a guy who pisses him off. who makes him so angry that he's starting to question his type, because why does he find this guy attractive. who is pretty shitty with words and pull assholes moves too. who is quick to recognize his mistakes and immediately apologize for it. who doesn't excuses his wrongdoings but simply admits that he was wrong. who will continue to say sorry simply because he cares a lot about peem's feelings and he'll do it a million times if that is what it take for peem to forgive him. who is a child at heart despite the tough guy act he tries so hard to put on. who cares a lot about other people but doesn't quite know how to show it. who thinks people probably only stick around him because of money so it becomes his first resort to offer to people he cares about. who gets childishly jealous but will never actually admit it. who is quite bold with his words but also immediately gets shy and insecure about them. who retreats back into his shell the moment he lets that insecurity takes over. who goes completely soft for peem under EVERY circumstances. who is willing to put himself out of his elements just so he can spend more time with peem. who always tells peem that he enjoys spending time with him. who keeps repeating to peem that he values peem's times. who fucks up at time but is always willing to learn and to be better. who just wants to be whatever the best version of himself that he can be because peem deserves no less than that.

but also…. both of them would rather jump of a cliff first and maybe chew on glass a few time before they will verbally express their feelings for each other. they’re down to just keep making out tho. and down to maybe probably most definitely cuddle all night in a room full of their friends. because they’re totally and certainly not gay for each other and DEFINITELY aren’t like head over heels in love with each other or anything. pff.

idk. they're just very neat to me. and they're so entirely perfect for each other. and i can't fucking believe a gmmtv romcom is making me feel THIS much about two fictional characters.

[the-pixelated-pirate]

Request for Anon!

Hellooo lovely people! Sorry to keep you waiting, literally all year, but I'm back! I had a lot of fun with these because I've been in such a big Maji' mood <3 hope y'all enjoy!

Romantic Majima HCs ♡

WARNINGS/NOTES: NSFW under the cut, gender neutral reader w AFAB anatomy, Y1+ Maji' in mind but some hcs can still work for Y0 :3

REQUEST STATUS: Open!

REQUESTS LEFT: 3!

SFW

• Loves claw games, will win everything in the machine for you if you ask. On second thought, Majima would do ANYTHING for you if you asked

• Doesn't matter how long you've been together, Majima will always be flirting with you. He'll always finding something about you to compliment and makes extra sure that you know you're loved by him <3

• Plans the most sporadic dates. Always jumping the question when you least expect it. He found this neat looking sushi place a couple blocks from your place, what about dinner at 8? Tonight? Of course, tonight! He saw some kids eating some ice cream just now and it sounded perfect! You're not busy, right? Let's go!

• If you've got a job with the public, you know he's skipping out on his duties to come visit you. You work in retail, he's holding up the line to flirt and swoon over you. Your boss hates him

• He can't let anyone know that he's the biggest sap over his s/o. You've got him wrapped around your finger, Majima isn't sure if he enjoys it or not.

• Favorite moments are early in the morning, when you both first wake up. It's so domestic. Loves getting to cook breakfast with you, holding you close from behind and smooching you up <3 his kisses taste like coffee

• Plays into the "Mad Dog" nickname a lot, calling himself your "guard dog" and being positively feral and the slightest bit protective over you.

• Loves to bite. Anywhere. He'll leave marks, and end up maybe getting punished because he left a big ass hickey where clothes don't cover it

• Loves loves LOVES to cuddle. His favorite place to rest his head is your chest. Or your thighs, he ain't picky. He could cuddle you all day if you'd let him, especially after a bad day at work. Your fingers in his hair is an absolute dream

• Sings in the shower

• Has a notebook of important dates that he always keeps on him, so he doesn't forget them! Some dates include your birthday, and your anniversary of course!

• Turns into a big baby when allergies kick in. Now he's got you around, he begs you to take care of him. Let him bundle up in your bed, feed him some warm soup, massage his jaw when it starts to ache, won't you? You just love him so much, right~?

NSFW

• Okayyyyy.... Maybe it's a little indulgent... But he'd be so down to try pet play. Probably prefers calling you his little kitty/puppy, but it feels pretty damn good the other way around, too

• As much as it hurts to say. Look at him. I don't remember seeing a spec of hair on him, minus the facial hair. That mf waxes. Brazilian. And if I am misremembering... It just feels in character, ok

• Loves to see you dress up. Loves to see anyone in a suit or dress, if it's a special occasion he will find some place to drag you to so he can show you one hell of a time. Oh, the risk of getting caught? Just adds to the thrill, doesn't it?

• Switchhhh. Through and through. Can be a big bully, or he can be a big ole masochist. Loves pleasing, loves being pleased. Majima in the bedroom is very 50/50, everyone is happy

• Fav place to cum is. Anywhere on you. Ass, stomach, face. Will he clean it up... Probably. If you tell him to.

• LISTEN.... He's down for some freaky stuff... If you tell him to lick it up, he just might. He's always been pretty unpredictable, hasn't he?

• Loves rough sex. Nothing better. However he does have his softer spells. Will go easy on you if you ask. But you better beg, he loves listening to that sweet, sweet voice of yours

• All of my faves have voice kinks. Because I said so. Solidarity k 🤝

• Like mentioned he can get pretty cuddly afterwards, but he can still take care of you if you're wiped out. Just get ready for some hugs and a whole lot of smooching

• Okay. Crossdressing. Are you surprised. Making him wear dresses, making you wear something you normally don't.. just something about it

• ALSO. ROLE 👏 PLAY 👏 HE WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND FUCK YOU HARD AS THE HANNYA MAN. AS A POLICE OFFICER. GOROMI... WHOEVER. OK

[akumakosuke]

Yay, I finally finished the first chapter of my new fic...

†Our cursed love†

This is my first time writing an actual fic so it might not be that good, constructive criticism is welcome and encouraged! I would really like to know your opinions on what I'm doing right and wrong, things I should change and so forth.

A little PS this is not going to be absolutely canon, there will be some changes to the lore and techniques so be warned. I am also fully up to date on the manga so there will be manga spoilers.

Please enjoy the first chapter of ‡Our cursed love‡.

No warnings

~_Our cursed love._~

Chapter 1- Our pedestal.

~No one POV:~

The day is like any other day to most people. The sun blazing high in the bright blue sky, perfect white fluffy clouds dot the sky, moving along swiftly with the breeze. The sound of streets full of vehicles and streets full of people fills the air.

The day was like any other to non-sorcerers.

They all go about their lives, completely oblivious to the two Gods currently walking among them, blissfully unaware of the evil seeking to destroy these two Gods.

The day was like any other to the two Gods. Aware they’re being hunted but unaware of each other.

It’s true what they say, ‘ignorance is bliss’ and our two Gods will have to learn that lesson the hard way.

~3rd Person POV~

A young boy, around the age of 9 walks with an unusually cold face for a child wearing a blue hoodie with beige shorts and black sneakers. His expression isn’t the only eye catching thing about him, his eyes are quite simply breathtaking. Strikingly brilliant sky blue orbs. His short, fluffy white hair gently swaying in the breeze.

To passers by he seems like a relatively normal child with oddly spectacular looks but normal is not a word fit to describe this God.

Satoru Gojo decided to take a trip to Shibuya for no other reason than boredom. He knows it’s ‘dangerous’ because of the many, many bounties on his head but does he care? No, of course not.

Why would he care? He’s a ‘God’ right? All these fools are beneath him, besides its clear that none of them would even be a problem, he might be 9 but he knows his place in this world, he knows the ‘blessing’ he’s been born with and he knows how to use it -albeit not well- one glare is enough to dissuade anyone crazy enough to target him.

He can sense them all around him, thinking they’re hiding their cursed energy well but nothing can get past his six eyes, nothing.

~10 minutes earlier~

A young boy with long grey hair tied into a neat pony wearing a (f/c) shirt and (2/f/c) pants that are clearly too big for him and a pair of (f/c) boots steps out of a fancy black car in the middle of Shibuya. The 9 year old closes the door and the car drives off, left unattended which would be odd if he were just a boy, although his expression is somewhat normal for a boy his age, relatively bored, his eyes hidden by a pair of blacked out glasses with a circular frame.

He confidently makes his way through the busy streets, despite his small size he easily navigates a path through the much taller adults, some only sparing him a brief glance but none question why there’s a clear gap between him and everyone, a physically space none of them an seem to cross, naturally and absentmindedly moving around the boy to avoid it.

M/n Goto is aware of this gap as it’s intentional. He’s practicing although the few hungry pairs of eyes on him are distracting. M/n knows venturing out alone is ‘risky’ because of how valuable he is but hes a God isn’t he? Those fools are beneath him.

They’re clearly trying very hard to hide their cursed energy but alas it’s in vain, M/n sensed them following him since he left his estate. It’s not like any of them would be a problem for him, he knows his place in the world, he knows the ‘blessing’ he was born with and he knows how to use it -thanks to his loving father training him since he could walk-, one glare is enough to dissuade any idiotic enough to try and mess with a God, besides nothing can touch him without his permission, nothing.

~present time~

Destiny is a funny thing, many argue its existence.

If destiny exists then freedom cannot.

If freedom exists then destiny cannot.

Many argue its existence, many chose to deny its existence, they chose freedom.

The freedom of choice.

M/n Goto and Satoru Gojo do not believe in destiny.

M/n Goto and Satoru Gojo both chose to come to Shibuya today because they wanted to, they were bored and chose to do the riskiest thing by leaving unsupervised.

They both chose to walk this random street, they both decided they were tired of being followed and chose to turn around. A completely, random choice.

Completely random.

“Huh-?!”

“What-?!”

Time suddenly stops for two young, lonely, untouchable Gods.

M/n Goto and Satoru Gojo do not believe in destiny, so what is this feeling? Not the physical feeling of their shoulders colliding.

This sudden tug, this oddly familiar feeling like meeting a different version of yourself.

Luminous, sparkling sky blue orbs meet now uncovered blazing, blood red orbs and for the first time both are in absolutely awe of another’s appearance.

~M/n POV~

‘He- he bumped into me… his eyes… they’re… how did he-? This feeling… who is he, i feel like I should know… wait… he’s…’

~Satoru POV~

‘I didn’t sense him-? He touched me… i was sure i had it on… those eyes, they’re breathtaking… who is he? Why do i feel like I should know him? Wait… he’s…’

~3rd person POV~

“Cursed.” They both mumble at the same time causing both their eyes to widen, both taking a step back from the other.

The warm, carbon filled air suddenly feels a whole lot more suffocating, the feeling tugging at both of them gets stronger and they both know the other feels it.

It’s an odd sight, two unsupervised 9 year old standing in the middle of a busy Shibuya street just silently staring at each other in what can only be described as bewilderment.

For the longest time they’ve both believed them to have no equal. From the moment they opened their eyes they were forced to live in a word beneath them filled with people beneath them. They were put on pedestals so high no one else could ever hope to climb it and yet…

Their lonely pedestal is apparently bigger than they thought, all they had to do was turn around and be confronted with the other.

A shared pedestal is something everyone told them was impossible, they were born Gods among mortals, they were special, miracles, forever alone.

“Goto M/n…” M/n, finally regaining his brain, blurts out, feeling something he’s never felt before, nervous.

“Gojo Satoru…” Satoru eventually replies, having taken a few more seconds to recover and identify the unknown feeling in his chest, anxiety.

“We should probably lose them first before we talk…” M/n suggests, hesitantly turning his gaze away from Satoru and toward one of the groups of curse users currently hiding out in a tall building across the street with horror on their faces because the sheer amount of power coming from the two Gods is mind breaking.

Satoru turns his gaze towards another group hiding on a rooftop few building’s down with the same expression and hums in agreement. He slowly reaches out to grab M/n’s hand, he doesn’t know why but he just does.

The moment their skin makes contact they both jump, the feeling of physically touching another is so foreign, so intrusive yet so natural.

They quickly easy into the feeling, Satoru pulling M/n along and M/n following without complaint.

This action feels so normal it’s almost easy to forget the innocent looking 9 year old boys are running away from assassins hunting Gods not boys.

They both in this moment, forget they are Gods, they forget they are cursed, they both, even if only for a fleeting moment just feel like two normal boys, running freely through the streets of Shibuya, unsure of when they actually started running but unwilling to spend any time thinking about it.

They just run, the destination isn’t a concern to either of them and after running for what felt like both a lifetime and barely a second they stop in a dark, dirty alleyway, joyful laughter still bubbling from their chests as they catch their breath.

“Phew, I’m pretty sure we lost them.” Satoru comments as he leans against the wall, relaxing a bit more because he can’t sense anyone else.

“Hmm, it would be foolish of them to follow.” M/n adds, leaning on the opposite wall, also relaxing.

A short, comfortable silence envelopes the two Gods as their gazes lock, again being completely caught off guard by the other’s eyes. Millions of questions run through both of their minds, having finally found another like them is something they didn’t think possible , they were told it’s impossible.

“How… how did you touch me? Get past my barrier which I’m positive was active?” M/n asks incredulously, he should be absolutely horrified someone can bypass his technique but he isn’t.

Satoru looks at M/n in slight shock, now being made aware the other also had a barrier active at the time of contact.

“I… I don’t know, i also had a barrier active so maybe they cancelled out?” Satoru would have never thought he’d say that with such a casual tone, someone being able to bypass the one thing that makes him untouchable, he should see M/n as a threat but he doesn’t.

“So we both have a kind of barrier technique and they cancel out somehow… that should be horrifying right? Our one impenetrable defence rendered useless…” M/n’s voice drops to a low whisper but there’s no hint of defensiveness, simply taking in the fact he can be touched, he’s not unbeatable.

“It should but honestly it just makes me excited ya know?” Satoru chuckles, his eyes sparkling even more as his usual cold expression replaced a small grin, his heart is still pounding in his chest, the tugging feeling getting stronger the longer the talks to M/n.

M/n mirrors Satoru’s expression, feeling the same pounding in his chest, the tugging feeling moving his feet forward as he takes a seat on the floor next to Satoru, his barrier preventing his clothes from getting dirty. Satoru quickly joins him, activating his own barrier to stay clean.

Although both of them are just 9 years old, being born basically ‘God’s’ they naturally possessed some basic control of their techniques, both already having trained to use their techniques for a few hours none stop before they get tired.

“It is isn’t, my entire life I’ve been told no one would be able to challenge me and I thought how boring that sounds, they said I stand on a pedestal made for Gods and that I alone stand atop it, atop everyone else and then I thought how… lonely that sounded…” M/n says, pulling his legs to his chest as he rests his head on his knees, looking at his new found friend.

Satoru adopts the same pose, his mind and soul filled with pure joy as M/n speaks because he understands, he understands so well and he never thought someone else would understand.

“Mhm, they called me blessed my entire life, a miracle. Showering me in praises and gifts alike, telling me how special I am, how I’m better than everyone else. They also call me a God, put me on a pedestal too tall for a kid… They don’t see the view from the top, they don’t see how big and empty that pedestal is…”

M/n listens to Satoru, there’s something freeing in listening to him speak, like a weight lifted off his shoulders, the weight of being called the strongest and the loneliness that comes with it, a weight no 9 year old should even have to know about.

“Well it was big and empty but perhaps we can share it?” M/n asks with a hopeful tone, somehow already knowing he doesn’t really need to ask.

“I… I would like that. Our pedestal?” Satoru has never felt this type of excitement, the idea of sharing, being equal to someone else, of not being alone is enough to make him feel like a normal kid.

“Our pedestal.” M/n repeats, the word ‘our’ rolling off his tongue so naturally.

“So what do you normally do for fun? When you’re actually allowed to do what you want ?” Satoru asks, clearly excited to do whatever friends do when they hang out, he’s excited because he doesn’t really known what others do because he’s never bothered to pay attention to anyone else, they were beneath him so there was no point in getting to know them but now, now he’s never been more interested in another.

M/n grins, suddenly standing up and looking down at Satoru with a sparkles in his already spectacular eyes. Satoru still can’t believe he likes someone else’s eyes more than his own, his attention immediately glued on M/n. They both feel that tug again as M/n extends his hand towards Satoru, the idea of physical contact regardless of their barriers still seems so absurd but so enticing.

“Wanna find out?”

Satoru takes M/n’s hand, the unfamiliar warmth of another comforting their souls , penetrating their minds. M/n pulls Satoru up and their hands stay linked as they exit the alleyway, M/n leading the way, unknowingly staring the first chapter in a very long and dangerous book.

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