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twentyninth · 11 days

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❝ 𝐜𝐮𝐳 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 ❞ hsr x reader 𓆩 𓇼 𓆪

pairings. dan heng, caelus, sampo, welt yang, gepard, blade, jing yuan, luocha x gn!reader

a/n: i miss getting silly little reuqests like this . send me requests guys (if u snet a req b4 its not in the swag askbox anym sighhh), reupload from old blog!!

warnings:oh no SEX AND NSFW AAAHHH, breeding kink caelus, jing yuan, and blade, bc yes!!. kinda bdsm w blade, praise kink w jing yuan, degrading kink w blade, kinda sadist sampo, belly bulge 👍👍, fingering BUT NOT IMPLIED FEM READER 🤬🤬

dan heng is more than happy to be yours, legally, and to be the man to put a ring on your finger. has waited his whole life for this moment, to see you walk down the aisle and everything. and nothing more than finally carrying you in his arms to the bedroom of your newly built house. but having your hands pinned to the bedframe, as his cock is so brutally penetrating your hole, and he can't help but praise you for being such a good pet and taking all of him in you. the endless thrusts you felt that kept coming, and your hole so easy to work himself in and out from all the cum from the rounds that happened hours ago, it felt so endless in your mind, but dan heng couldn't help but indulge himself into you, because you're finally his, and he's finally yours. more under the cut.

caelus thought he was foreign to this kind of stuff, like no one would ever would love him like that back. but he's here now, and you are too. picks you up bridal style on the way up stairs, ripping your wedding dress off. (not rly, just takes it off you, but lets just say he did) all he wants is to literally fill your precious hole up with his seed :(( can't help but go another round, because his stamina was just too much for you to handle, but all it did was turn him on more! the way his cock made such a cute mark on your tummy.. he couldn't help but cum at the sight of how your poor hole will remember the shape of his cock, and his alone.

sampo..? i'm surprised someone actually married him, anyways! kind of rough with it honestly, still type of guy to just ravage himself in you. taking his sweet time, especially when you were so close.<3 your expression, and the way you were just whimpering, and begging for him to just harshly thrust into you to finish it up. all he could say was "i wanna make this night extra memorable for you, and me~!", wants to be begging for his cock to just shoot his warm seed into you already.

welt yang.. all i gotta say is that he's overjoyed, over the moon that he got married to someone as amazing, stunning, to be his world, his everything, the person he'd start a family with. but before all of that, ever since you both started your relationship, he promised himself, that on the night of your marriage, that's when he'd give you the time of your life. a time where you'll always remember. remember the way his huge cock would just be so rough with you aa, just wants you to get every drop of his cum till your belly bulge that he put inside you is so full of his seed, or that your hole will always remember the shape of his dick muahahahshhdkfjvi

gepard my man! already planned it out, knows exactly how the night will go, maybe.. but whatever happens tonight will be according to a plan. probably saved his virginity for this moment, he.. he's tried reading about it, just lets the night go as it is... i guess.. but dear god he really did not hold back, as soon as you gave the go sin that he could go as rough as he wanted, bro wouldn't hesitate AT ALL. just wants to see you so full of his cum it hurts mfmfjfjfjfn. he's jerked off to this moment before too, and the way you just take all of him in, he loves ot so muchh! will breed you like crazy, no joke, even if you're a guy, bro will say he's gonna get you pregnant. anyways, he'll be soft and gentle w u in bed if you want, but if u ever say to go faster, good luck in that wheelchair next day ‼️‼️

blade?!? getting married?!? damn!! very rough, lowkey forgets about you when he's at his climax. but he didn't really plan for it, just let the night play out. oh i have to say this but silver wolf is the flowergirl, kafka is maid of honor, and nanook walks him down the aile. anyways, bro doesn't hesitate to just absolutely breed you, be honest cause i know this man wants kids. and you will have them, don't give a fuck if you a man, he will breed yo ass. licks up the excess seed that didn't, or couldn't fit in your hole that was already so full of his seed. thank you 🗣️🗣️🔥🔥‼️

jing yuan!! oo he is probably the same as gepard, will plan it out, but probably won't go to plan at all. and probably has read smutty books too, just in case. and wow that really helped because just as long as you ask bro to go faster, he will non stop breed you 'till you have like 3 generations of heirs for him. jokes aside, but he would breed you so bad. just needs to see your hole so full of him that it's too much, and won't fit anymore! probably makes you sit on his face once or thrice after all those rounds of pounding you too ;3

luocha.. hmm, if you think about it really hard, lowkey dislikes the idea of sex at the wedding night, but we do not think about it really hard, he does it anyway!! he is the type to know all your spots, all the right places to make you cream on his cock over and over again, cuz bro is a doctor. and would finger you like crazy while making out before the actual intimacy. bro is so careful with you like you are as fragile as glass. his kink is just your whole body. everything about you, your curves, your thighs, your neck, he wants everything, and thats why he'd do it on the wedding night of his!!!

for america i say for AMERICA!!!! (i dont live in the us anym)

🌼﹐✦﹒︿﹕TAGLiST: @skyl8ver @yamssxv @eve--011 @stygianoir @zomballs @roseclues @mystariouss @pryllee Sign up for my taglist and get updated for all my newest works!: CLICK HERE

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moon-rivr · 7 months

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forbidden

pairing: brother’s best friend miguel x fem reader

warnings: reader and miguel don’t rly get along, masturbation (f)

author’s note: thank you for all the love on el arreglo and all the other fics <33 hope you all enjoy this one :D

You were running around the house with a My Little Pony Rarity doll in hand, stopping only when you heard your name coming from your brother's room. "I just don't get why your little sister has to join us every time we're playing," you heard your brother's best friend's voice coming through the door, his tone clipped and annoyed. "C'mon Miguel, you know she doesn't have any friends. Can't you try to be nice to her?" Your brother replied, his voice hushed as he spoke. You gripped the figure in your hands as your knuckles started to turn white, feeling angry for thinking that they wanted to be friends, for being seen as nothing more than a charity case. "Fine, but that doesn't mean I have to like that little twerp."

Even though a decade had passed since you overheard that conversation, you and Miguel had never really gotten along after that. Nothing more than just the cordial "hello" and the acknowledgment of each other's existence, just enough out of respect to not make things awkward for your brother. You weren't sure what you did to make Miguel so pestered by your presence, but you'd given up on trying to figure that out. He regarded your friends and the previous partners that you brought home with the same disapproving scowl he reserved just for you.

"I need to talk to you after class," your professor spoke up, snapping you out of your thoughts as you packed your laptop inside your backpack. As you put your physics textbook away, you couldn't help but worry about what he could possibly have to say. Sure, you hadn't done so well in the past.. couple tests but your grade couldn't be that bad, right? "You have a twenty in my class. I'm letting you retake the assessments and assignments you got a failing grade in but I would strongly suggest that you get a tutor," your professor told you once you walked over to his desk, putting his glasses down. Even though you felt incredibly grateful that your professor was giving you a second chance with these assignments, you still couldn't help but feel embarrassed about your grade. "Thank you, I will," you mumbled, walking out of the class as you racked your brain for anyone who would be up for tutoring.

You got back to the apartment you shared with your brother, walking into his room and throwing yourself on his bed. "I know knocking's an outdated concept, but can we bring it back?" Your brother said, not bothering to look up from his computer monitor as you rolled your eyes. "I'm having a crisis, I don't have time for knocking. Do you know where I could find a physics tutor quick?" You replied, looking from the mattress over where he was sitting. You watched as he nibbled on his bottom lip, a tick that he had whenever it was something you wouldn't like. His response, however, wasn't something you were expecting and just the thought was making you want to gauge your eyes out.

"Miguel actually took that class last semester. He got the highest grade in the class."

"Do you think you could ask him for me?"

"Why can't you ask?"

"I just think he'll respond better if it's coming from you, his best friend and all. Please."

However, even with your begging, your brother refused to help you since he thought you should ask him yourself. What a load of bullshit. You were too proud to put your ego aside and ask Miguel for help, so you resorted to seeking a tutor through a study group. Your tutor wasn't exactly the best person to work with, given the fact that he had struggled with the subject last semester and was only doing this study group for extra credit. Your grades weren't increasing in the slightest and you found yourself staying late at the library to study.

You didn't realize you fell asleep until you heard some knocking on the table, hastily wiping away the drool at the corner of your mouth. You rubbed your eyes, looking up to see Miguel staring at you. "What time is it?" You asked, stretching your arms as you tried to get the blood flowing again. "Seven. Your brother's worried since you haven't been at the dorm at all today," he replied, sitting on the opposite side of the table as he picked up your textbook. "You're struggling with physics? You should've asked me for help," he said after a while, putting your textbook back down as he looked at you. "I actually have someone else tutoring me," you replied with a small shrug, still not willing to admit defeat.

Miguel shook his head as he scoffed, folding his arms. "Se ve que está haciendo buen trabajo. That's why you're overcompensating for his bad teaching?" He remarked, letting out a dry chuckle. (you can tell he's doing a good job) You were about to say something else but he stopped you when he started to speak again. "Para de actuar como una pendeja y deja que te ayude," he said, much to your surprise that he was offering to help. (stop acting like a dumbass and let me help you) Even though you needed his help desperately, you weren't gonna let him call you a dumbass. "Aqui el pendejo sos vos si crees que hablandome asi te voy a recibir ayuda," you remarked, watching a small smirk form on his face. (the dumbass here is you if you think i'm receiving your help with you talking to me like that) "Fine, sorry. Pero yo te puedo ayudar mas que ese idiota," he offered as a rebuttal, leaning against the table slightly. (but i can help you more than that idiot) "Ay okay. Tampoco te pongas a rogar, Miguelito." (don't start to beg)

Which is how you found yourself waiting in the library for Miguel to arrive, tapping on the table with your pen. Your leg shook as five minutes turned to ten, soon enough to fifteen. You rubbed your eyes, packing up your stuff in your bag when Miguel arrived at the table. "Nice of you to show up," you mumbled, taking your stuff out of your bag as you saw him roll his eyes from the corner of your eye. "My time doesn't revolve around you," he responded, taking out his own textbook. "It may not revolve around me but you could at least bother showing up on time," you replied, your book slamming on the desk as you took it out of your backpack. "Vamos a pelear o a estudiar, niñita?" He asked, arching a brow as he opened up the book. (are we going to fight or study little girl?) "I don't see why we can't do both."

"So what do you need help with?" Miguel asked after a couple minutes, taking out his old notebook out of his backpack. "All of it?" You replied, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly as you looked away, feeling embarrassed. "Por Dios. Okay, so we'll just build on what you know and start moving from there," he said after a couple of minutes of watching you try to narrow down what you needed the most help with. At the end of the study session, you didn't find yourself completely hating the experience. Sure, Miguel could be annoying and cocky, but he was also patient in the way he taught you and elaborate with his explanations. "I'll see you tomorrow."

You and Miguel continued to study at the library over the course of a few weeks and your physics grade had seen a vast improvement since you started. "I know you don't exactly like me, so I appreciate you taking the time to tutor me," you told Miguel after your most recent tutoring session had ended, looking over at him with a small smile on your face. He didn't say anything, just simply nodded, before packing up the textbook in his backpack. "I'll work up a study guide and review for your midterm, okay?" He said after you were finished up packing, holding the library door open for you. "I'd appreciate that, thanks," you replied, slinging your backpack over your shoulder as you walked out of the library. The walk to the parking lot was mostly silent, until Miguel spoke up once you got to your car.

"Your brother and I are going to this party later if you wanted to come with us. You probably won't know anyone there but they're chill people," he offered, looking over at you with a ghost of a smile on his face. You placed your hand on your chin, pretending to think about it as you looked over at Miguel. “I'll see if i can make it. I have a pretty strict physics teacher," you replied, getting into your car and drove off to the apartment. Even though you'd given Miguel a vague answer, you were planning on going now that he'd invited you, wanting to see more of him that didn't involve the velocity equation.

As soon as you got home, you decided to get in the shower in order to get enough time to get dressed and do your makeup. After you stepped out of the shower, you opted for a red skin tight dress that went down to your thighs. "Which shirt do you think would look better on me?" Your brother asked when you were finished getting dressed, holding up almost two identical black shirts. "The one on the left?" You answered tentatively, watching as your brother's gaze went to the shirts. "You are no help whatsoever," he groaned, throwing the shirts on the bed. "Why are you so worried about what you're gonna wear?" You asked, sitting at your vanity as you started to put on a false pair of lashes on. “Katie Jenkins is supposed to be at the party so I'm trying to look presentable," he responded, referring to one of the cheerleaders, opting to put on the shirt you suggested. You turned around, facing your brother once he'd gotten ready as you smiled a bit. "She'd be an idiot not to like that shade of black."

You and your brother arrived at the party a couple minutes later, and he immediately left your side to see if he could get Katie Jenkins. As you looked around the party you came to the realization that Miguel was right, you didn't know anybody and despite the fact that everyone looked relaxed, you didn't trust your social skills to just go up to someone and start up a conversation. You went to the kitchen, grabbing a beer from a blue cooler and sat down on the couch as you scrolled through your phone.

"You know, the whole point of a party is to socialize," you heard someone say, looking up to see Miguel with a smug look on his face. "Some might say that it's to get free booze," you remarked, scooting over on the couch as you took a sip from the bottle. Miguel spread his legs on the couch as he sat down, the angle highlighting his thick thighs perfectly. You almost choked on your beer as you looked away, hoping that he didn't catch you staring. "So, I was wondering if I could ask you a question," he started, looking over at you as you set down your beer bottle on the coffee table in front of you. "That's a question in itself, no?"

Miguel rolled his eyes as he cleared his throat, getting ready to ask you the question. "I guess I just wanted to know why you said that I didn't like you earlier. Where'd you get the idea that I hated you?" He simply stated, looking over at you as your brows furrowed. "You've never given me any signs that you even tolerate me. And I don't know, probably the way you look at me and the people I choose to hang out with? Or the fact that you choose to acknowledge me last when we're in a room full of people," you reply, grabbing your beer bottle since you had a feeling you might need alcohol for the rest of this conversation. "I look at the people you hang out with like that because I'm jealous," he replied, his hand lingering on the back of the couch as you set your beer bottle down. "Jealous of what?"

Before Miguel got the chance to respond, someone blurted out "Seven Minutes in Heaven!" and it completely interrupted his flow of thought. You got up from the couch, opting to play the game just for the sake of trying to meet someone new. The game started off fairly slow, your brother getting the opportunity to go inside with Katie. He came out with his cheeks flushed and his lips swollen, following Katie around like a lost puppy. You decided to scroll through your phone while you waited for your turn, looking through Tiktoks and Instagram. A couple turns had passed until your name had been called, but the person going in with you made your heart drop.

Your name and Miguel’s had been called out to head into the closet and you felt your palms grow clammy at the thought of being in an enclosed space for that long with him. You decided to put your fears aside for the sake of the game, or at least for the sake of your ego since you didn't want to get called a chicken by people you hardly knew, and stood up. You two went inside the closet, sitting down in the dark as you felt your cheeks grow heated at how intoxicating his cologne was up close. "To answer your question, I got jealous of the way that they got to be with you. With your romantic partners, mostly. That they got to have you in a way that I never did," he spoke up after a while, his gaze practically burning into you even in the dark.

You felt your hands grow clammier as you thought about what he said, your heartbeat practically booming in your ears. "But what about all those girls you dated? You always seemed to be happy with them," you asked, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. Miguel reached up, turning on the closet lamp as he looked at you. "I never dated anyone. Not seriously, anyways. They were more of a distraction.. from the fact that I shouldn't feel this way towards you," he replied, one hand on your cheek as he tilted your chin towards his. Even though you were starting to get a pretty good idea of what feelings he was talking about, you still wanted him to admit it to you. "And how do you feel towards me?" You asked, looking up at him as you saw his gaze soften the tiniest bit. "I'm in love with you. I'm so in love with that it tormented me going to the apartment when you were dating someone, but not being able to do anything out of respect for your brother. You're constantly running through my mind, it's insane," he said with a small chuckle, scratching the back of his head.

You're not sure who initiated the kiss, but you were certain that you didn't want it to stop. His lips felt like they were molded just to kiss yours, the taste of him overwhelming just like everything else. His hands went to your waist, pulling you closer to him like he was trying to get as much as possible while your hands intertwined themselves in his hair. The only sounds in the closet were those of your lips colliding and your shared heavy breaths. You let out a soft moan and tugged on his hair as you felt him nibble on your bottom lip gently, soothing the sting over with his tongue. He took the opportunity when you moaned to slip his tongue in your mouth, exploring every inch of you in the amount of time he had left.

You came back to your senses when you heard the shrill ring of someone's iPhone alarm outside, alerting you two that the time was up. You looked up to see a look of almost regret in Miguel’s eyes, feeling your heart sink just a little bit. You didn't want to acknowledge what this meant for you and Miguel so you decided to run out the closet, fixing your hair up quickly in the bathroom and reapplying a fresh coat of lipgloss. You looked down at your phone when you heard a notification ping, a message from your brother that he would be leaving with Katie after the party was over. You successfully avoided Miguel for the rest of the party, hanging out around the basement or the backyard porch as a means to distract yourself.

After a while of avoiding Miguel, you decided to head back to the apartment since the party had mostly died down. You felt your mind fuzzy from the kiss as you drove back home, the taste of him and the feeling of his lips still lingering in your mind. You pushed those thoughts away as you arrived at your apartment, going into your bedroom and grabbing your towel. You took a warm shower, hoping that it would ease some of the tension in your muscles and that it would help with those pesky thoughts about Miguel that just wouldn't go away.

You finished up with your shower half an hour later, but unfortunately it had done nothing to satisfy the urge that you now felt for your brother's best friend. You reminded yourself of what he was, of what he meant to your brother and what damage this could do to their friendship, but all you could think about is just how nice his lips felt against yours. How they seemed like they were made just for kissing you, how soft and how good he tasted. You changed into some pajamas, getting comfortable for bed as you grabbed a book from your nightstand and turned the lamp on. You hoped that the book would offer you some sort of escape from your current situation, give you some peace of mind. However, you had picked up a romance book so it didn't give you too much to escape from, the situation eerily creepy to what was happening with you. You eventually gave up on reading when you approached one of the smut pages, Miguel's face appearing front and center in your mind as you read what the love interest was doing to the main character.

After a while of reading, you eventually decided to give up on trying to stop thinking about Miguel and tried to go to sleep. You tossed and turned in your bed, your stuffed animal ending up on the floor a while later. You picked it up, apologizing for what you'd done before opening up your phone to a picture of Miguel from his Instagram page. You felt the need inside of you grow as you saw that he was shirtless in the picture, his happy trail showing with the low-waisted swim shorts he was wearing.

You let out a small, annoyed sigh as your hand started making itself down your breasts. You gently squeezed your nipple, letting out a soft moan as you imagined that it was Miguel’s hands on your breasts instead. How pretty his mouth would look wrapped around your boobs. You set down your phone, giving into the urge and started to caress your breasts to the thought of Miguel. Your nimble fingers tugged and squeezed, hoping that the stimulation would help with the ache between your legs. The ache that Miguel had left behind. Your nipples were like little pebbles by the time you were done, clearly prominent in the white tee you had on.

You grabbed your dildo from your bedside table and a bottle of lube before you got a chance to think twice about who you were masturbating to. You let out a sharp breath as you felt the coldness from the lube hit your clit, the liquid starting to slide down between your folds. You lathered some of the lube onto the dildo, sliding it inside slowly as your mind started to conjure up scenarios. You pictured Miguel calling you a good girl, telling you how good you were taking his cock as he slowly started to push deep inside of you. You let out a soft moan as you felt the dildo completely inside of you, your pussy clenching tightly around it as you tried to adjust to the size. You pictured Miguel kissing your face, your body as you got adjusted to his size, whispering how much of a whore you were for him and his cock. How good your pussy was swallowing him up. With those thoughts in mind, you slowly started to pump the dildo inside of you.

You increased the pace after you got used to the size, letting the moans slip freely out of your mouth. "Y-Yes Miguel!" You moaned, your toes curling as you felt the dildo hit your g-spot. You thought about Miguel again, how easy it would be for him to figure out what made you tick, what made you writhe and beg for him. Sweat started building up on your forehead as you continued to push the dildo in and out of you, seeking the sweet relief of your release. Your phone pinged with a notification, but you were too focused on your pleasure to see that it was actually from Miguel. Your eyes fluttered shut as your fingertips went to your clit, rubbing small fervent circles on it.

You thought about how good Miguel’s tongue would feel buried deep inside your pussy, your fingers tugging on his hair as you grinded against his face to get more of it. The dildo came in and out of you with a loud squelch, the mixture from your juices and the lube providing you with enough lubrication. Your back arched from the bed as you massaged your clit, pushing the dildo in and out of you. Miguel’s face came into your mind as you came, picturing him telling you how much he wanted you to cum, how pretty you looked when you were at bliss and how much he needed to taste your juices. "Oh Miguel! Yes, right there," you moaned out, your back completely off the bed as you came around the dildo. You slumped back against the bed, feeling post nut clarity hit you all at once. You felt ashamed for using him as the object of your fantasies, especially with the look in his eyes he had after he kissed you in the closet.

You let yourself think about the severity of your actions, knowing that your brother would probably go bat shit crazy if he found out you were doing this to the thought of Miguel or about the kiss that you two shared. You rubbed your temples, relieved by the knowledge that at least nobody would be witness to what happened in your room. You got up from the bed when you looked over at the dildo next to you, just wanting to clean it up and forget about what had happened.

You came back into your room after cleaning yourself up and the toy, hoping that the orgasm would help you go to sleep easier. Eventually, you found yourself tossing and turning in your bed once more, unable to sleep as thoughts of Miguel and shame circled through your mind. You checked your phone to see the message from Miguel, your eyes widening a bit as you saw the contents of what it said.

miguel: hey, your brother wanted me to check up on you so i'll be swinging by the apartment later if you need anything.

sent 12:31 am

You silently pray that Miguel hadn't arrived just yet, that he hadn't heard how needy and horny you were just a couple minutes ago. And all for him. You open up your bedroom door, your heartbeat loud in your ears as you saw that Miguel was standing there with his arms folded across his chest and his cheeks tinted red. Fuck.

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inchidentally · 15 days

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ok so I haven't done an insane and pointless landoscar post in a while so !!

I blurted most of this to @mecachrome and needed to like ground myself abt it but like.

Lando allowing himself to oscillate between extremes of Taking Your Affection For Granted/Being an Absolute Menace and Please Look at Me/Please Tell Me I'm Important to You is smth we only see him do w very very specific people. he's got to feel very secure that their attention and patience w him go hand in hand. namely we know of Max F, Jon, some of Lando's karting friends, and now Oscar. with literally everyone else he makes an effort to soften or balance himself and fit their energy (which tbh is how most of us are w friends and colleagues). but Lando is not Just Anyone and Not Just Some Guy so there's a special extra sector of friendship and affection there to be achieved if someone has the desire to.

and somehow to me it's like, Lando realizing so early on that Oscar really really really knew him and then gradually realizing that Oscar was continuing to study and learn him, it basically jumped his feeling of safety around Oscar to a degree he normally only feels around ppl he's known for a very long time.

and that a peruse through these two tags it becomes clear that Lando feels secure in putting Oscar through the paces of Lando's least happy and amenable moods possible. bc !! Oscar just smiles through it and doesn't get offended and almost sort of pushes through it as if to say you're not going to annoy me away mate, I've decided we're friends and that's it.

bc it's a test he knows Lando does when he's decided you're a Safe Person. like in Bahrain and Lando jokingly goes ugh! hi Oscar! and IMMEDIATELY switches to Osc bc he's in a Mood about having to discuss Bahrain as if they possibly could've learned much about the car yet and there's nothing rly to discuss but he doesn't want to take it out on Oscar … and then ! Oscar sees the pout on Lando's face, ignores everyone else and does this lean in and starts teasing Lando abt the repetitive questions they're being asked ! and Lando ! breaks out into this big smile and his mood just lifts !! bc Oscar knows exactly what to do !

and somehow that's all tied into how insanely clingy they both were at the start of the season and Lando esp was going a bit crazy with posting and reposting and commenting on content with Oscar or him and Oscar and how he felt this need to explain to Oscar why he went to see Daniel and not him bc wowwww he rly missed Oscar and the way Oscar just watches him and laughs at all his jokes and doesn't ask Lando to Be Anything Other than Himself bc Oscar takes the good and the bad bc it's Lando! Oscar had folded Lando into his life long before they even knew they'd be teammates!

which parallels the end of season video in Abu Dhabi or the Saudi post race video 'Straya Mate' and Lando is about to jump out of his skin to get Oscar to look at him !! and in those moments Oscar is a combination of tired and rly not enjoying media but Lando canNOT HANDLE when Oscar isn't watching him and Oscar seems sort of fed up with cameras so he STARES at Oscar's face and wriggles around and builds up to jokes bc he just needs to see himself having that effect on Oscar! and Oscar never lets him squirm for long and caves in to any joke Lando makes no matter how bad. and all of that fits so much w the sort of "soft dom" moments where ultimately, Lando views Oscar as one of the few people in his life who will Take Care of Him and who Knows What Lando Needs. but also !! it's a return of what Oscar does for Lando!

bc we've all seen him be like this w Max F and Jon and how no matter what flavor of Lando gets thrown at them - sweet or sour - they know just how he works and would never ever betray that level of trust by getting bored or disinterested or fed up with him. Max definitely has the most ability to scold Lando to order but tbh that happens v rarely and mostly he just mutters to himself or the camera and totally folds to Lando anyway.

but the difference is that Lando has years of proof on his side w Max and Jon and the other ppl he feels like this with. Oscar however is still a New Friend and he's got this whole settled, grown up life outside racing and Lando's relying a whole lot on the degree of commitment to McLaren that Oscar has shown again and again. they have friends in common and a drift compatible bond as teammates but they don't broadcast their interactions like most drivers do w other drivers so who knows how much Oscar has integrated in Lando's life outside of that? and I can only imagine Lando does NOT cope well with losing people he's brought into that degree of trust even tho from what we know he's never had that happen. but Oscar is so self-contained and reserved about the deeper parts of his personality so all of us sure can't say exactly how he'd react to him or Lando going to another team and you wonder how much Lando does ??

and godddd then we got this little glimpse into their natural dynamic and I end up finding myself hoping especially for Lando's sake that their friendship keeps getting stronger over the years they both know they have for sure together bc it's feels v safe to say that Oscar being someone else's teammate and not being Right There throughout the season would not be good for Lando !! </3

*obligatory reminder that I write these posts purely for fun and no I do not hinge any of my happiness in life on two men in racey cars - bc some ppl cannot tell what fandom is for and think everyone's deadly serious

#landoscar #inchidentallyanessay

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agirlwithglam · 22 days

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+*:ꔫ Elegance & grace: *✧･ﾟ:*

(It just needed the aesthetic symbols around it.)

“A girl must be two things: classy and fabulous” — Audrey Hepburn

“Always be the leading lady of your own life” —Audrey Hepburn

“Fashion changes, but style endures.” — Coco Chanel

“Keep your heels, heads and standards high” — Coco Chanel

✧ For the longest time, I longed to be a girl with class and elegance, but I also wanted to be a party girl and chaotic and fun! Then I realised, why can’t I be both? Why couldn’t I have it all? So here are some tips where you can be super fun and cray-cray but also see yourself as an elegant person ✧

Posture. Always sit up straight. Self explanatory tbh, just don’t slouch.

Don’t be on your phone too much. Idk why but when I do it, I just get so icked out by myself. Get off your lazy butt and do something. But mostly when u do go on your phone, don’t lie down lazily on your bed. Sit up.

Present yourself well. Brush your hair, put some lip gloss, where decent clothes. Ready yourself in a way which makes you feel elegant and confident.

Get your own style. Your own signature scent, style

Read. Nothing says elegance than a tidy, well kept girl reading.

Be polite. Have manners. Be kind and respectful. How you treat others says a lot about you. And remember to smile! Be warm and open.

Chew with your mouth closed. It is so gross eating and then seeing someone chewing with their mouth wide open.

Don’t fiddle too much. In my opinion it’s ok if ur rly nervous, but if ur just sitting try not to shake your legs (im guilty of this as well!)

Stay calm. In situations where it’s more tense/ you just wanna shout, don’t. Learn to not react and stay calm and elegant, always. Appear calm and collected in all situations. (Some ways you can do this is by meditation or deep breathing)

Be mindful. Be mindful of the things you say, and the things you do (your actions)

Confidence. Confidence is everything. Be confident in the way you speak, in the way you walk, in yourself.

Extra tip: embody/ take inspiration from people who are already who you want to be! (Examples: Marilyn Monroe, Coco Chanel, Aubrey Hepburn, etc)

Xoxo, Vanilla

#agirlwithglam🎀✨#vanilla self improvement⭐️#it girl tips💗💋#self improvement #self development #becoming that girl #it girl energy #girlboss #self love #it girl #elegance #how to be elegant #becoming elegant #tips to be elegant #elegance tips #Audrey Hepburn #marylin monroe

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jelly-of-many-ships · 7 months

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COMPLETE OFMD S2 CONTENT LIST:

To anyone looking for a complete list of trailers, vids, and photos released for OFMD season 2, here ya go.

(I’m not rly active on anything other than tumblr rn so i’m sry if I missed smth)

! LINKS CONTAIN SPOILERS !

So, first of all we have the official teaser trailer, released on August 30th: TEASER LINK

On September 14th we finally got the full length trailer. I’m assuming we’ve all seen these already: TRAILER LINK

There was a promo vid containing new s2 scenes that some people were getting on their TVs and recording and uploading to twitter. What some people don’t know is that that the official OFMD facebook account recently uploaded the same promo thats actually good quality and not just recording off a tv screen. Anyways if there’s a scene you’ve been seeing but it wasn’t in the trailer or teaser, its probably here: PROMO VID LINK

Here’s the links to some of those twitter vids if you don’t know what i’m talking about: twitter vid, twitter vid, These have the same content as the facebook link, just shitty quality.

Oh also Vico Ortez (plays Jim) posts a lot of s2 things on their tiktok. Nothing with spoilers just BTS (not the k-pop band I swear to god) I guess this doesn’t count but some of it’s rly funny: Vico Ortez tiktok

PHOTOS:

The first batch of season 2 photos we got were from Vanity fair on august 24th, but those photos plus a bunch of others are now available together somewhere i’ll say in a sec. Here is the article that showed us the first look at s2: VANITY FAIR ARTICLE

So, warner bros discovery gave us an *almost* complete collection of currently released photos. This does include the vanity fair photos but most of these you can’t find anywhere else. they say which episode every photo is from and let you download them too which is pretty cool. The site also has some great articles in the media releases section but they’re not that relevant. Go to the images section to see the s2 pics: S2 PHOTO COLLECTION

The final thing I found was the exclusive photo “The Streamr” posted on twitter. In fact there’s this whole thing happening with the OFMD twitter fandom and The Streamr and apparently they’ve posted exclusive photos that aren’t in the Warner Bros collection. Once again I am not actively on twitter so I don’t really know that much. I was only able to find one exclusive image posted by them but if there are any more please let me know. THE STREAMR EXCLUSIVE PHOTO

EDIT: found another photo on twitter! YET ANOTHER EXCLUSIVE PHOTO

EDIT: There’s a S2 behind the scenes vid from the max YouTube channel and it’s got so many extra clips it’s practically a third trailer!!! Also apparently there are some more articles that just released and I’m a bit busy rn but I’ll find and add them soon behind the scenes vid

EDIT: OMG THE MAX YOUTUBE CHANNEL POSTED A SCENE FROM EPISODE 1 AND IZZYS CRYING AND THE CREW IS COMFORTING HIM ITS CANON S2E1 SCENE

that is all that I personally know of but if there is anything else you think should be included please add it or lmk, I want this to be a complete list. If anything new comes out I will try my best to add that as well.

I was pretty confused where everyone was getting all the s2 info and I couldn’t find a complete list anywhere so I decided to make my own. hope this cleared it up for anyone else🤗

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mysillyside · 6 months

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I am extremely confused as to how the 2006 Higurashi anime (a flawed adaptation of its VN but still a generally beloved horror anime) and the Umineko anime (an actual insult to its source material that both nonfans and fans of the VN its based on despise) are directed by the same person. What happened??

People often explain it as "oh Umineko is just inherently harder to adapt" which is true, but I think Chiaki Kon showed so much skill in the way she directed Higurashi.

The Studio Deen Higurashi anime (specifically the first season) is poorly animated due to its lack of a budget yes, but its still a competently made show. It not only has such a clear visual identity (from the iconic expressions, to the colors and how they sometimes drastically change hues depending on the setting/mood/time of day, to even things like shot composition and the angles utilized to create a sense of unease and dread) but also in general it's a fun, intense, creepy show to watch.

Even ignoring the iconic gore scenes that the anime is most famous for, there's so many shots that are permanently burned into my memory just because of the expressions or pose or colors or shot composition.

It's an interesting looking show! And it genuenly has a great atmosphere. If you're wondering what I mean, I think all you need to do is just watch the 2006 version of the "You're lying!" scene and compare it to the 2020 version from Higurashi Gou (sequal/remake series).

While yes, the 2020 version has cleaner smoother animation, the 2006 version in my opinion is more tense. The shot composition makes the scene feel urgent, and there's little extra touches the 2020 version doesn't have that makes it more impactful (Rena's scream of "You're lying!" making birds fly away from a tree behind her, not only creating an iconic shot visually, but incorporating further sound design to elevate the scene).

Circling back, but the Umineko anime is so unbelievably incompetant. It's not only a bad adaptation, but it's a bad show period. It's hard to follow and confusing unless you are familiar with the source material, and it's just such a surface level adaptation that's trying to recreate what Higurashi's anime adaptation did, but failing. It's extremely uninspired. Higurashi's anime adaptations often get criticized for their overuse of gore (to a point it mischaracterizes the series as just violence with no substance) and while that is a fair criticism, Higurashi still let us spend time with the characters a little before the murders start. The Umineko anime gives us half an anime episode of chill, before the drama begins, and only 2 anime episodes before the full on horror begins. We can't get emotionally attached to 18 characters in the span of two 20 minute episodes. Like that is impossible. Also the colors are flat and dull with nothing to offer, the animation isn't the best but that would be ok if it idk- gave us ANY iconic shots. The only good thing about the Umineko anime adaptation is just the opening and ending songs and mby the artstyle.

Also I don't want to hear any of you saying Umineko is impossible to adapt, when the Stageplay managed to do such a good job of adapting it into a shorter format and different medium.

Anyhow again, how are these two anime directed by the same person. I don't get it I rly don't!

#higurashi #umineko #analyses & meta #💬 katposts

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anime-grimmy-art · 4 months

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It’s this time of the year again, folks. Time to wrap up the art Ive made in the last 12 months in another Year in Review! I’ve noticed that this is my fifth Year in Review in a row, so I’ll be making an extra post looking back on the progress in those last 5 years!

I've got a lot to say about this year, but purely art wise, I've gone all when it comes to comics, damn! I've kinda found a format that is messy, and therefore more time efficient, yet still looks good. I even made 2 animatics and lotsa shorts/reels! All that on top of opening coms twice, and, oh yeah, MAKING A WHOLE ASS 4MIN ANIMATION ON MY OWN.

How is my hand still alive.

2023 has been….interesting, to say the least. The first half year I was working on my thesis project, aka making an animated short all on my own (in the art department), which makes it honestly surprising how much I managed to churn out between animating. Trigun rly did have me in a choke hold.

Summer was a bit more spotty, esp. with me not being able to draw anything during August as I was writing my thesis (and doing commissions). And towards the end of the year, Kingdom Hearts tried to save me, but alas, Genshin Impact has finally sunk its teeth into me and dragged me to the bottom of the rabbit hole. It all started with me watching a story summary and lore videos while I was sick after my thesis and I was too intrigued to not dig deeper and well, first I fell in love with Kaeya and then the ships started dropping in left and right.

I’m not gonna lie, the last few months have been weird. I finished my masters in October, and have been on job hunt since, sadly without success so far. I’m existing in this weird limbo of still not grasping I’m not a student anymore after 18 years in education, not really being able to accept I’m an adult, yet desperately trying to find something so I can make a routine, cos rn Im too scared to build a rhythm as I know I’ll have a so much harder time readjusting again. It’s left me in a weird emotional state, where most of the time I feel fine, but when it counts, there’s just, nothing. No joy at getting my diploma, no anticipation to finally go to a convention again, neither any sadness hearing my grandfather died. It frustrates me that it extends to my art as well, there’s excitement over ideas and concepts, but no motivation to pick up the pencil, which makes me either not finish art at all or making so many shortcuts and just ending up with sth not satisfactory to me since it’s not the idea I sought after.

Tho, not everything is doom and gloom. I DID finish a whole ass short animation and got my masters degree, that IS sth to be proud of. Also, while Im struggling at drawing, I’ve also kinda started integrating my shortcuts into my style and some stuff I’ve thrown together actually turns out real good nowadays. Also, and this might be a bit of a weird one, I’m so fucking happy to know I can still enjoy gay ships. I’ve been a bit uncertain over the last few years because when I was around 16-18, I had a real big yaoi phase, which mostly came from the fact so much stuff came out that tickled my brain in the right way (Free, Haikyuu, etc.). But over the years, my enthusiasm died down, and I even started to resent some ships because it’s all some fandoms produced. I often found myself liking a hetero ship more than the popular gay ship, which really made me not wanna stick around because I did not care for most fanart and you can only go through a tag with art you don’t care about so long before you lose interest. I think in retrospect that it rly had nothing to do with the ships being gay ships but rather cos the fans just shoved it in your face when you didn’t care (and shipping culture nowadays also can get real scary). But I’m so happy to see I can still get obsessed with a ship and it’s all thanks to Haikaveh/Kavetham. It really just needed the right flavour for me to dig in again. And oh my god, I FINALLY like a ship with a SHIT TON of art and fanfictions, no more scrounging the crumbs from the bottom of the barrel.

Anyways, enough lamenting. Here’s to hoping I can bite my tongue and get shit started properly in 2024, and that my brainrots may make me obsessed enough to churn out an obscene amount of fanart again.

#art year in review #anime-grimmy #fanart #sketch #comic #animatic #undertale #trigun #legend of zelda #monster hunter #kingdom hearts #undead unluck #genshin impact

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itoshi-s · 1 year

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reo and rin possessive in opposite ways, reo loves flaunting what no one else will ever have (you) and (with consent) sends vids and pics of you to the group chat like it’s nothing, where as rin will literally kill anyone who dares to look at you for a second too long

AJHFAKFAAL ANON THIS COMPARISON IS SOOOO GUD BC IT'S SO TRUE !!!!! they're absolute polar opposites and tbh cannot get each other's pov for the life of them 😭 reo sends one of his s/o's thirst traps to the group chat and rin is like .. absolutely disgusted. why'd he do that. he imagines a similar situation happening with his s/o and it makes his eye twitch lol it just doesn't make sense to him... sees it as downright disrespectful in a way really even tho he knows reo's s/o is fine w it

reo is definitely a lil fucked in that head <3 loooves to flaunt u in every way possible. you're his prettiest little thing, his greatest treasure - it's a shame no one else gets to see just how stunning you are, isn't it? if you're okay with it and give him the green light, WHEWWWWW the rest of the team is lucky as hell !!!!! get to indulge on the mirror selfies of you in the newest lingerie set that reo got u,, sometimes get to hear your little moans and pleads from the other side of the wall :( cuz when reo wants you, he wants you now, and there's no point in wasting any time. he drags u to the nearest room and fucks you so good, there's still this droopy look to his eyes as you two exit the spare bedroom :( you're all over his socials as well, starting from daily lil pics with your finger getting into frame and ending on official event photos. really he just takes on any chance he gets to show how lucky he is!!

rinnie... oh rin baby :( i love him so much. he's crazy. he really is. he knows it's hard to communicate with him at times and he thanks the gods when you only give a playful roll of your eyes to his grumbling instead of getting annoyed w his antics. he just cannot help but get frustrated whenever he sees some article on you on social media, the comments downright disgusting because hello??? why would any sleaze say anythin like it about you when even the title states that you're the girlfriend of uefa's player of the year??? like yeah you're taken. he gets it - you're drop dead gorgeous, the most beautiful and breathtaking thing he's ever seen in his entire life (and he's seen a lot). and he KNOWSSS that he's the one that gets to see you daily, first thing in the morning, and that he's the only one to get the sweetest kisses and most sinful touches from you. but it's just unconscious to him sometimes </3 he glares at any guy who looks at you in a way that seems suspicious to him, even goes the extra mile to wrap an arm around your shoulders and pull you closer, until he can lean his head down and kiss you. he's not that big on pda, and whenever he does show you affection in public, it's most likely bc he's jealous lol. there's not many pictures of you on his socials until you get engaged/married and have kids (the media rly loves this whole family guy persona that they never thought he had to him lol and he's much less stiff on his sm the older he gets) BUT he does have a few pictures of you on the red carpet or some events in general <3 you look absolutely stunning and he's got no shame. posts u like he's your biggest fan (he is!!!!!!!) >_< also for the nsfw turn ........ he rly cannot make up his mind whether he hates the thought of anyone hearing your pretty little sounds or gets off on it LOL he's like, no just wait until we get home, baby, no way on some days but if he's particularly love sick, he has no restraints ! pulls you into the bathroom for just a quickie, it's not like any of the guys will notice - they're too busy celebrating by the bar, right??? he tries to reason w himself, but he knows they will notice and that they WILL hear as you whimper his name. that's the whole point really <3 feed his ego girlie he loooves it

#✧.* ✉ zari’s mail #ANON I AM SOOO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG #i only now notices it's been sitting in my drafts for like weeks now :((((((((((((((((#✩ reo.thrists #✩ reo.drabbles #✩ rin.thirsts #✩ rin.drabbles #mikage reo #mikage reo x reader #mikage reo thirst #itoshi rin #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin thirst #✧˚ · . bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader

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cheeseburgersinparadise · 1 year

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could we get some horny friday intox vibes? your intox posts are always *chefs kiss*

mmm, we’ll it’s definitely been on my mind lately. I’ve really been into fancy clothes and expensive tastes lately so I’m gonna give something a go.

Edit: this was way more than I intended but here we are I rly hope this is good.

maybe we’re out at a fancy restaurant, a place we’ve really been looking forward to because of the decadent menu and robust wine selection. I’m in a sleek dress, a compliment to your fitted suit - a little more fitted than the last time you wore it. The fabric is tight around your thighs, the button hanging on for dear life, highlighting how thick you’ve gotten for me lately. The jacket hugs your sides and I know you couldn’t close it if you tried. I chose a fancy place tonight for this reason exactly. I wanted you to look as indulgent as the food we’re about to eat.

I order multiple courses and a bottle of wine for the table, pouring you a glass and pushing my empty one to the side. Someone will have to drive tonight, after all, and I want you to be able to have a good time tonight. You drain a glass before the appetizers get here, digging in eagerly. I grin and refill your glass; watching you so excited to try all the food we had coming was so charming.

You work through pastas, soups, main courses with braised beef, rack of lamb, butter poached fish, mashed potatoes and roasted veggies. You wash it down with glass after glass of wine, giggling as you pretend to swirl it in your glass before taking a sip. I eat my fair share of the meals, but then leave the rest for you. I notice you slowing down and take in your face, cheeks flushed from the half bottle of wine sitting in your likely full belly. You give me a lazy smile, stifling a burp and shifting in your seat to accommodate your bloated middle.

“Getting full, baby?” I ask, and you nod, fingers trailing down to rub your stomach. The buttons on your shirt are straining and you keep letting out deep burps behind your hand. I feel heat in my face and almost can’t wait for dessert before I take you home.

I help you finish the main courses with a hand on your thigh under the table, inching higher with each bite you take. You moan softly around each bite and I’m sure it’s from both the flavors and the arousal pulsing through you. You lean back in your chair and burp, hand pulling at your waistband in an attempt to make any extra room without actually undoing your pants. I kiss your cheek and whisper “good boy” in your ear before flagging the waitress and getting the check. I can’t wait for dessert.

I push one last glass of wine towards you and you gulp it down, eager to get home now that you see the hunger in my eyes. You get up and sway slightly, chuckling as you lean against me.

“I think I really overdid it.” You groan and place a hand on your stomach, as if that will help you steady yourself. “But it was all so delicious.” You feel so warm and pliant against me and those pants leave nothing to the imagination.

I eye the restrooms near the back, a set of one room men and women’s restrooms tucked in a hallway under lowlight. I wonder if you can feel the waves of arousal coming off me but when I make a split second decision and tug you towards the bathroom, you chuckle and pull me closer.

“Whatever you want, baby,” you say, voice hot and heady in my ear.

Dessert can definitely wait.

#tw intox #intox kink #chzburger answers #chzburger writes #female feeder #ffa #ffa/bhm #this wasn’t as intox heavy as maybe you wanted but I still like it

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nailisaa · 8 months

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tbh i’m not mad either 😭😭 loa tumblr had me spiraling around, always thinking i was doing something wrong because people would just create purposely controversial posts since they ran out of things to talk about!! i really feel like loa should be a personal journey once you understand the basics

you’re exactly right. there’s rly nothing more than the basics. you decide on smth you want and know you have it in the 4d. everything else is extra. but ppl like to over complicate it in order to be more logical when it’s not necessary. for example, affirming 10,000 times, or reprogramming the subconscious because apparently there’s a “mental blockage” we need to discover and remove. like no. it just made everyone think they need to do more than they have to.

these controversies rly harmed loablr. every time something “new” is introduced people get mad over it. states last year for example. the truth is, it’s not new at all. like i’m sorry we started to understand what was going on, instead of taking advice from manifestation coaches who pretend something extraordinary is behind the paywall but it’s actually just “keep affirming.”☠️ ARE WE AS A COMMUNITY NOT ALLOWED TO GROW?? and then when people found out they resonated with nondualism more and left loablr, people were mad again. same thing applies here, if it resonates you are allowed to stop practicing the law ☠️☠️

i never took these arguments seriously, and no one else really should. life isn’t that damn serious. like of course this community died because it turned into a mean girls movie instead of us trying to learn tg...

if anyone is reading this and unsure of what to do, as long as you know the basics you’re just fine. most of us on loablr are saying the same things anyway. it’s your life, practice the law freely.

#loa #ask #neville goddard #law of assumption #4d #desired reality #manifestation #affirmations #loa success #shifting #edward art #affirm and persist #reality shifting #states manifest #loassumption #loa blog #loa assumptions #master manifestor #manifest

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uncouth-the-fifth · 1 year

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pythia, a supernatural rewrite. phantom traveler, p.2

read it on ao3. masterlist.

words: 4747 notes: HI FOR THE LOVE OF GOD HELLO. uni is finally no longer kicking my ass, so here is a pythia update! since it's been an embarrassing amount of time since I last posted, i rly wanted to get something out for u guys - and as a result this chapter is shorter than what I'd like, but I hope still fun and silly ;) thank you so much for holding on with me and i can't wait to hear your thoughts! p.s - sam and dean are extra sweet this chapter bc i want all of u to love me again >:)

PITTSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA - Dec. 3rd, midday.

George Phelps was Max’s passenger, and, among other things, a loving and committed husband. He lived in a quaint little house in the suburbs, where his wife put his picture on the mantle and refused to say much to you. She didn’t have to. Just looking up at their house from the curb, decorated with soft glowing Christmas lights and silver crosses, you knew George Phelps wasn’t your guy. Maybe Max had seen him pry open the emergency exit on the flight, but you seriously doubted a dentist with acid reflux was behind the deaths of two hundred people.

Sitting in George’s living room and speaking with his wife, you swore that there was almost something there, but it was neutral enough that you doubted it was anything more than the wisps of George’s presence in the house. Fresh grief always felt the same.

You didn’t like how this hunt had been gnawing on you. The visions always itched you in their own way, but this time was distinctly, uncomfortably different, and you just couldn’t pin down why. It was your job to take the weird inclinations the Gift gave you and turn them into something usable. Somehow, you couldn’t even manage that.

You were the first one out of George Phelp’s stifling house and the first one into the Impala. In the safety of the backseat, you curled your nails into the upholstery until your fingers hurt and just felt. What were you missing? What were you recognizing, but failing to remember?

The thing you were hunting was big game. You’d had hundred-year-old vengeful spirits in your head, and they couldn’t even glimpse the kind of hatred you were dealing with here. It affected audio recordings, had loads of strength, and took a metal bat to your Gift every time you even thought about it. Somehow, it manifested with or connected to normal people. None of this rung any bells with you. Which was ridiculous, since it felt more and more familiar the longer you rolled your vision over in your mind—beyond close, like it was within arm’s reach.

Sam, in the Impala’s passenger seat, started giving you cautious looks in the rear-view. Dean had been halfway through griping about this case when Sam finally spoke his mind: “____… What exactly did you see in your vision?”

Both of the boys shared a furtive glance, then turned to look at you as one.

You must’ve shown the panic you were feeling on your face, because Dean’s clammed up with awkward sympathy. “...I know this one was tougher n’ usual, but I need you to buck up a bit, okay? This thing’s got nothing on you. C’mon.”

When you frowned, there was a bitter tang growing on the back of your tongue. You weren’t six. You didn’t need someone to coax your nightmares from you, and you definitely didn’t need anyone telling you to put your big girl pants on. Dean didn’t have to ask Sam to toughen up, even four years off his game, and you doubted he ever told himself to. Grr.

“Just start driving,” you gruffed, and failed to stop your lip from curling.

The arm Dean had hung over the front seat slouched into his lap. “...Sure thing. What’d you see?”

He turned the key and got you on the road again, joined, right on cue, by Sam’s kicked-puppy look swaying back to the windshield. You reminded yourself that the only reason you were pissed was because of how awful these last few days had been, and explained yourself.

“It was intense. Way more intense than most visions I’ve had. Not because of anything I saw—though the crash was… awful—but because of the feeling it gave me. Even when I got out of it… it just filled my head, I guess. This thing has a seriously powerful influence.”

Sam’s brows furrowed. “Did you see it at all?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, reminded again of how little you were helping. “Most of it was just flashes of the passengers. The plane going down. Before that, I saw a man’s hand grab the handle to the emergency door, the pilots talking about a flight out of Pittsburg, and then smoke. Loads of it.”

The car sunk into a heavy, thought-honed silence that only served to ramp up to your anxiety. You kept the case on your mind for all of two seconds, then were pulled to the ceaseless clicking of Dean’s turn signal and how scratchy your bandages were. Your suit sat too stiff on your body for you to relax into your seat, squeezing your empty belly in the worst way and chaffing on Baby’s leather. The cold air was too dry and your eyes and throat burned with the strangest pressure. Not a sick pressure, but a living one, pressing in. Black smoke. Your pain meds were wearing off too, so the sinew in your body felt taut and worn on an unfamiliar skeleton.

You stared dead-eyed at nothing for a minute longer, then Dean hauled the Impala up to the curb again and declared: “Fuck it. We’re getting lunch. What are you in the mood for, baby?”

“That’s a weird way to say the car needs gas, Dean,” you managed.

“No—not her-Baby, you baby!” Dean flushed, and honestly, he deserved some serious points for scrounging up any humor right now. Again, he tossed an elbow over the seat and threw a dazzling, morale-boosting grin at you. “What do you want to eat, darlin’? We can go to a sit-down place, have an actual meal. Or we can just grab something from the store. Anything.”

You hesitated to answer, and caught Sam’s grimace—you were way too poor right now to go for anything beyond instant noodles. “...We can wait til’ later, Dean. I don’t really have an appetite right now,” you lied.

Dean never begged, but forever reason he was willing to today. Maybe you seemed even worse off than you’d thought. “...C’mon, kid, you’re killing me here. Whatever you want. My treat.”

Again, you didn’t jump at the chance to answer. Truth be told, you could eat a grocery store whole right now, but the three of you did not have the budget. Dean was insane and devoted enough to steal lunch for you, too, and you didn’t feel like bailing him out of jail right now. Just the idea made your wallet tear up.

You opened your mouth to try and be realistic, only for Sam to interrupt you.

“Ice cream,” he read your mind. “She wants ice cream. The big grocery store tubs.”

Dean didn’t wait for any objections. He whipped the Impala out of park, jerked back into your lane, and peeled away toward the nearest store. “Ice cream! Hell yeah. I could fuck up some cherry garcia right now. Sam? Could you fuck up some ice cream right now?”

“Me? Oh, big time,” he lied, catching your eyes in the rearview again. You’d maybe seen Sam eat ice cream twice in your entire life. Again, he was probably hiding that he was lactose intolerant.

You had only a sliver of fight left within you. “Boys…”

“Yes?” They chimed. In their own ways, their voices dared you to resist, but the combined power of both Winchesters was too strong to withstand.

You bit down your grin and fell silent.

A few minutes later, Dean pulled into a thirty-year-old mini-mart that looked it’s age. Of course, he parked the Impala as far from the other cars as possible, so the mile-long walk through freezing, finger-numbing winds put everyone in the mood for ice cold ice cream. The first euphoric rush of interior heating made you sigh out loud. When Sam and Dean had swiped the snow off their blazers, you made an attempt at leading them toward another toastier, cheaper snack.

“You want ice cream,” was all Sam said, shrugging, and scooped up a basket for the three of you to use.

Either you were predictable or he could read minds, because even with the snowy weather you were more than ready to fuck up some ice cream. Just thinking about it made your bandages feel less scratchy. Lounging on the couch and plowing through a tub was a privilege the road really didn’t allow, so you were pretty sure you hadn’t even had any ice cream since October. Since you’d actually lived in your apartment.

“How did you know?” You asked him, out of honest curiosity.

Sam gave you a mysterious smile instead of an answer, swiped some snow off your jacket, then tilted his head after Dean in an unspoken come on. His brother had already caught the scent of the frozen treats section, so you both hurried to catch up with him. You stole glimpses of Sam as you wove your way to the back of the store. He was a little taller than the aisles, and his loafers cleared the age-stained linoleum in half the time your heels did. For whatever reason this is when your heart decides to remind you how absolutely spellbound you are by him. He takes a turn around an endcap of Little Debbies to find Dean, and you float right after him, orbited by cartoon hearts.

Maybe that’s intentional on Sam’s part, since you forget all about money and budgets right up until you’re staring down the row of smudged freezer doors. Dean’s already hefting his tub of cherry garcia overhead when you approach, and after a lot of fake stadium-cheering and whooping, he free-throws it with a perfect swish into Sam’s basket. Then, he slides aside and unveils the mini-mart’s slim selection of ice creams to you. Unfortunately, you’ve been trained from birth to think Dean’s funny, so you bite down on your cheek-aching grin and take a look.

“I dunno…” you say, even though you’ve already come this far. The math is starting to stack in your head. One tub is fine, but one for each of you builds up, and that cuts into real food money and motel money and gas money and—

“How about this,” Sam interrupts your mounting anxiety, voice smooth and anticipatory. “Dean gets his and then you and I get one to share. Sound good?”

You thank him with a small smile, imagining the face he’d make if you yanked him down by the lapels and kissed him for knowing you so well. Sam was a great kisser.

“That’d be perfect.”

Instead of going for your favorite, you swipe the dairy-free cookies and cream.

Dean shoos Sam further down the aisle, and his brother props up the basket like a hoop and starts serpentining between the frozen pizzas, the two of them beaming like rowdy middle school boys. You turn your tub over in your hand and line up your shot. Dean’s taunting and pinching is ultimately fruitless—the victory grin is already comfortable on your face when your ice cream swishes flawlessly into Sam’s basket. Sam whoops.

“Not bad, Slayer,” Dean approves. He gives your shoulder a playful budge, and you budge him right back on the way to the registers.

With your bad mood successfully thawed, you’re easy to distract while Dean sneaks away to (hopefully) pay for your plunder. One minute you’re in line with them, and in the next Sam is coaxing you away to poke around the value movie bin, hypnotizing you with a few well-placed, dimply grins. You forget altogether that ice cream costs money. You’re only just remembering what money is when Dean reappears, shoving a receipt in his pocket and jabbing a thumb toward the bakery.

“Cashier lady said they got spoons over there,” Dean explained.

You paused. “Don’t we have, like, a gazillion in the car?”

“You mean the car with the heater that takes ten years to start?” Dean sassed back, which instantly dissolved into one of his cheesy, goading grins. He started to rifle through the grocery bag for his flavor, half-walking and half-wrestling with it. “We’ll eat in here. Don’t worry about it.”

Somehow, you didn’t worry about it. Dean cracked jokes about adult freedoms and whole sleeves of raw cookie dough, Sam rubbed his belly like just the thought made him nauseous, and you giggled at every little thing they did. You were still laughing when Sam parked you by one of the bakery’s vents, the two of you crowded close to get as much warm bread fog as possible. Dean went over and bartered for three plastic spoons. The whole time he stole glances at you loudly giggling with his brother, and patted himself on the back for his job well done.

Dean wiggled closer to you both to be under the warmth of the vent. Now equipped with a way to get this ice cream into your ice-cream-ready belly, you borrowed Sam’s pocket knife to shred the plastic seperating you from your treasure. There wasn’t really a contactless way to hold the tub between you both. While Dean ravaged his cherry garcia, you and Sam tried, and failed, to preserve your personal space, only to lazily gravitate closer to each other with the first glorious spoonfuls of cookie-dough. The first bite balmed your sore throat and your sensitive burns. It was sweeter than you were expecting for dairy-free ice cream, but the surprise was welcome.

Dean stabbed his spoon into his cherry garcia. Then, he gave you another welcome surprise. He dropped his hand in your hair, smoothing it back, and asked around a mouthful of cherry flavoring, “Good?”

You couldn’t help but beam. “Yeah. I’m good.”

NTSB EVIDENCE WAREHOUSE, PENNSYLVANIA - Dec. 3rd, midday.

The next step in your investigation, naturally, was to break into a government warehouse, slip past security undetected, and hopefully learn something useful from the wreckage without being caught. No amount of ice cream could make that easy, but you couldn’t let your anxiety get in the way. The heart attacks you had showing your fake badge to the security guards were nausea-inducing, but the overpowering psychic weight of a disaster this fatal was going to be a thousand times worse. You steeled yourself.

Before you’d been a hunter, you’d come from a long line of spiritualists and occultists who made death their livelihood. They communicated with the spirit world, they studied life after death, they made the passing of old souls easier. Even before your Gift opened up you’d had similar connections to death. Beth, eyes gleaming with pride, used to tell stories about you at four, talking to the darkness of the attic’s crawlspace like there was someone there. Dean got head to toe heebie-jeebies when you brought that up, but a connection to the other side at such a young age was a Proctor mark of pride. The first time you’d ever seen an apparition had been celebrated as a milestone of womanhood. Death was your older sister, so you shouldn’t have been afraid of her.

You’d sensed her just a few miles out from the warehouse. It was gentle at first, seeping into your ears like a shift in air pressure, then gradually filling up your other senses. But over two hundred real living people—people who loved and were loved like you loved Sam and Dean—had died in that crash, so in no time you were squeezing your eyes shut and plugging your nose in the backseat. You felt Death every day in small doses. In Sam, restlessly watching the ceiling of your rooms at night, in your motorcycle, in the graves you dug up and the homes you questioned civilians in. Your sister sat beside you in the back of the Impala every day.

But two hundred whole people. You dug the nails of your right fist into your palm until it burned, thinking, desperately, about ice cream.

The closer you came to the scene, the more overwhelming the sense of death became. You were almost swaying on your feet flashing your badge at the security desk, who, of course, have to remind everyone of how useless you are.

“FBI? Don’t you guys usually work in pairs?”

Sam gave a tight smile. “She’s our aircraft specialist, thank you.”

A security clerk from the main office drove you out to the right hangar on a golf cart. Dean laid his action movie smolder a bit thick on the guy, but he at least could’ve passed as a trainee. By comparison, Sam at twenty-two and you at twenty-four were round-faced babies, too young to play agents on TV, nevermind in real life. The two of you squished together on the back bench of the cart and sat ramrod straight the whole ride, refusing to turn around. The less people who could remember your faces, the better.

When the warehouse was unlocked and the three of you were inside, your sister struck.

There was so much death. Great mouthfuls, lungfuls, chestfuls of it in the air, diffusing through your nose every time you breathed. You gagged on the psychic taste of it until your eyes watered.

A smarter person would’ve stayed in the safe bubble between Sam and Dean, but you’re done being babied. You break ranks the first chance you get. While the boys take slow steps around the perimeter of the wreckage, you gravitate toward the split-open center of the fuselage. All that remains of the plane’s body are a few rows of seating, gutted curves of scrap, and long tangles of roasted wires. There was so little left that you had room to walk through the middle, down the same path the passengers had taken to board.

When the ringing in your ears was too loud to hear over and you felt like a massive fist had closed around your chest, you stopped. Reached out. Felt, beyond the veil, the mark of the thing that had done this. It hung over this warehouse like a funeral shroud, but you felt it first through its spider web, which kept the last impressions of over two-hundred different people tethered to this place by invisible strands. None of the people—the spirits from the crash had manifested yet, but every living thing left an impression of itself behind. A footprint.

You pulled at different strands of the spider’s web for a while, sorting through the last memories of those on the plane for something useful. It was just as terrible as you’d expect. Mothers held their children, husbands clutched their wives, everyone wailed and screamed. This many people should’ve made up a whole nebula of different feelings, but instead you sensed just one: absolute, incalculable terror. With every passing moment the fear pressed in closer, but you ignored it. You pushed yourself deeper. Max Jaffey gasped into his oxygen mask. The seat in front of him was empty, and he was looking at someone—you reached and reached—across the aisle, a man sobbed and pressed his girlfriend’s trembling hand into his heart—you were going to die you were all going to die—

You’re ripped out of the swarm of memories.

For the millionth fucking time, you come out of the vision on your ass with the boys hovering over you. You’re slow to remember where you are and what’s going on, but the shame is there waiting for you, like always.

“—okay, just breathe, you’re okay—” Sam is telling you, soft and unbelievably patient, considering the number of times he’s had to do this.

His heart is full-on pounding like it’s gonna punch right out of his chest, and you wonder why you know that until you glance down. He’s got your wrist fished in his hand, pressing your palm to flat to the crisp chest of his suit, and it’s just plain embarrassing at this point how much it pulls you back to earth. Your dignity wants you to rip yourself away from him, but, luckily, Dean does it for you. He pushes Sam back and kicks a box of wires neatly between you, just in time for his premonition to come true: your twisting stomach makes its move, and you promptly throw up into the box like a sick toddler in a ball pit. Dean could always tell.

“Touchdown,” he winces.

This is it. You’ve reached the final level of humiliation you can stand. No matter how hard you try, every pathetic dive you’ve made to be useful to the Winchesters has ended with your face in the mud. You can’t even wipe your face right. Sam ends up doing it for you with his sleeve, and sighs, out loud, just to add insult to injury: “Poor baby.”

PITTSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA - Dec. 3rd, evening.

Two hours later, you’re back in the motel, sitting criss-cross at the end of Dean’s bed and contemplating what color you’re going to dye your hair. You’ve already landed on what your new legal name will be—Elizabeth Ripley. Elizabeth as in Pride and Prejudice and Ripley as in Alien. Sam would appreciate a Jane Austen reference and Dean would appreciate anything Alien related, so everyone would be happy.

You’re not sure where this plan to change your name and face came from. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that, after you gracefully threw up everywhere and failed to learn anything new about the case, the real FBI showed up. Like. Real, gun-slinging, tie-wearing FBI agents. And they may or may not have chased you out of the warehouse. (Which you would’ve seen coming, by the way, if you hadn’t royally exhausted your powers). Just in case all that was enough—while you were off being useless, Sam and Dean got a potential sample from your mystery monster. An actual workable lead.

Fucking great.

The two of them are deciding what to do with you. If you were to look beyond the lens of your self-hatred for a moment, it’s more likely that the boys are worried about you and trying to figure this out. But you feel embarrassed and gross and unhelpful, so you strain to pick up every word you can and glare a new hole into the wall. They’re going to tell you to stay behind. Well that, at least, is something you can beat them to.

Ever since you were little, the three of you had a very special rhythm together. Sam was the mind and Dean was the heart and you were the subconscious. Each of you was important, and though you could work on your own, you were so, so much better as a system. With you sending out fucked-up signals, the two of them would be down a crucial piece.

Whatever. They’d probably function just fine without you on this one.

Of course, Dean sics his little peacekeeper on you. The door clicks open. You smear the last of your frustrated tears on your sleeve and talk before Sam can say anything: “Hey, is it okay if you guys take that sample to Jerry without me? It’d probably be good for us to get a leg up on research, and you guys don’t exactly need me there.”

Sam comes toward you, his voice extra soft and placating. Since, y’know, you’re a shitty timebomb that needs to be handled with kid gloves. “...Alright. That’s a good idea. That’d help out a lot.”

He says that specifically because he knows you feel unhelpful. He gives you those dewy, understanding Sam eyes and puts his big Sam hand on your shoulder, and all it does is piss you off. You hate how easily he can read you, and how much you want to listen to him. None of this should be such a big fucking deal. You’re twenty-four—you should have a handle on your Gift by now. Sam’s been back at this for, what? Two months? Nobody’s treating him like he can’t handle the pressure. He’s not being haunted by visions twenty-four-fucking-seven or dealing with stupid burns or—or being creeped on by random hunters! Or throwing up at crime scenes!

Your eyes start to burn. You glare harder at the wall, and force yourself not to take this out on him.

Sam’s hand goes to move off your shoulder, but something changes his mind and he keeps it there for another lingering moment. “Look at me a second.”

You force yourself to look at his face. As mad as you are, the boy-crazy teenage girl in your head gets one look at him and squeals into her pillow.

“Go easy on yourself,” he says, softer than before. “Really. Nobody’s built for this kind of thing.”

You want to scream. Me! I am! I’m built for this! But you’re not a teenager anymore, so you compose yourself, sigh, and tell him, “...I’ll try.”

Instead of getting up, Sam stares at you for a long beat. There’s something in his eyes you can’t describe, and his hand is still on your shoulder, tethering the two of you to each other. Your mental teenage girl is about to succumb to romantic psychosis when Sam’s greenish eyes find something else to look at, and he passes you something from his pocket.

He mutters something like feel better and gets up, leaving you with a shard of metal about as long as one of your fingers. He doesn’t explain what it is to you. He doesn’t tell you what to do with it. Because you’re a hunter, dammit, and Sam knows you can handle yourself. His warm, calloused palm slips off your shoulder and you get the impression that he was never using any kid gloves with you to begin with.

Sam leaves. You stare at the shard as the Impala slinks out of the parking lot. Just by touch, you know it’s a piece of flight 2485’s fuselage.

…You do as Sam asked, and go easy on yourself. After a shower, a little teeth-brushing, and a lot of mints, you’re feeling way less gross and a lot more like a hunter. The whole time you pour through research on your laptop, you rub the shard of flight 2485 between your fingers and sort through what this thing could be. Inhuman strength. Uses a vessel. Black eyes. Black smoke.

Nobody’s built for this kind of thing, Sam had said, and he’d been wrong. You’d been honing this Gift before you’d even known you’d had it. Most of your life had been spent learning every kind of divination under the sun, so there was no way this thing could hide from you.

You started easy, reading the shard through psychometry. The nauseous feeling rose up inside you again, and again, you heeded Sam’s warning and chose to push away from it. You tried numerology, which felt like a push in the right direction; 2458 wasn’t relevant, and though 7 survivors could mean something interesting (luck, the union of the physical and the spiritual, yadda yadda), your gut told you it was something else. The plane crashed 40 minutes in. Biblical numerology, maybe? Promising. But also potentially terrifying.

When your bone casting read felt flat and uninspired, you defaulted to the simplest method you could think of. Tarot.

The first time you’d seen an apparition, your mom had scooped you up into a massive hug and paraded you around the house, declaring to the spirits of the underworld that a new heavyweight champ had entered the ring. (This became a lot funnier the older you got). You were bought ice cream and root beer and told in a thousand ways, subtle and unsubtle, that this was a good thing. One of the ways Beth convinced you was with her childhood tarot deck, which she’d gifted you that day.

You turned the cards over in your hands, imbuing the worn-smooth texture of the paper with the feelings from your vision. The first card you pulled was done on nothing but pure instinct. And the second. By the third, you shuffled the deck as thoroughly as possible, but the answer was still the same every single time. You’d never pulled the same exact card three times. All at once, things pulled together—the overwhelming sense of evil, the human host, the numerology, the way it sucked up death like a goddamn sponge—no survivors, it’d said on the EVP. Holy shit.

You were dialing Dean’s number the second you set the card down. He answered on the second ring, and spoke at the exact same time as you—

“It’s a demon."

Underneath the illustration were two blemished words. The Devil.

tags: @samssluttybangs @cookiemumster1 @lacilou @cevans-winchester @leigh70 @seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-looouou @aloneatpeace @williamstop @ornella0910 @chaoticshepardplaid @dakota-dream @lcvecstiel @goghkiss @spnexploration @stoneyggirl2 @urm0mmmbbg @mulattomoonn

NEXT PART: phantom traveler, p.3.

#uncouthspn #spn #supernatural #sam winchester #user uncouth #sam winchester fic recs #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #pythia #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural rewrite

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