#i have no shame and i am having a grand time

[cutieln4]

Hot Laps | LN4 smau

lando norris x reader

summary: lando takes an actress on a hot lap. they immediately have chemistry.

fc: marsai martin, pinterest girls

a/n: GUYS IM SORRY!!!! college is kicking my ass and my friends are being fake so i'm sorry it's been a while my motivation has kinda been down :( also sorry it's short

yourusername

Liked by zendaya, jennaortega, and others

yourusername new movie coming out soon!!! go watch it!!

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username1 I CAN'T WAIT OMGGGG

zendaya gorgeous as always

yourusername love u girl🫶

username2 YOU ARE GLOWING

username3 looked at myself and sighed

username4 i'm sat

username5 mother is mothering

username6 IM SO EXCITED

username7 face card never declines

yourusername added to their story

caption: GUESS WHOS GOING TO THE MIAMI GP!!!

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username1 OMG I HOPE I SEE YOU

username2 lock your doors

username3 ugh more celebrities that know nothing about f1 getting invited🙄

mclaren We're excited to have you!

f1

Liked by landonorris, yourusername, and others

f1 Lando Norris takes actress Y/n Y/l/n on a hot lap! Watch the full video here

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username1 holy crap

username2 no longer lando norizz😭

yourusername i was only a little bit scared!

landonorris just a bit?

username3 ok so now i need them to date

username4 how was lando able to focus while she looked at him like that?? i would fold immediately

username5 they were both so quick with their responses like the chemistry is insane

username6 idk who i'm jealous of more

username7 it felt like i was interrupting something

username8 she's so beautiful

username9 it was all too much for little lando norris

landonorris

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landonorris WOOOO P1!!!! Thanks for being my good luck charm, @.yourusername you'll have to come to races more often😉

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username1 HELLLOOOO????

danielricciardo they grow up so fast🥹

username2 what happened to shame?

yourusername of course! you'll just have to invite me :)

landonorris see you soon!

username3 OMG???

oscarpiastri Good job mate!

username4 IM SO HAPPY I CRIED

username5 lando norris is a grand prix winner🥳

username6 i'm still smiling

username7 congrats but the caption is crazy, rizz unmatched

yourusername

Liked by landonorris, mclaren, and others

yourusername thank you again mclaren for the invite, i think papaya is my color! and i even got to see some cute boy win!

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username1 "some cute boy" yeah okay

username2 i love the online flirting now kiss pls

landonorris you definitely belong in papaya🧡

yourusername oh yeah?

username3 LANDOS COMMENT BYE

username4 oh to be able to flirt with lando norris

username5 okay but why is no one talking about how STUNNING she is

landonorris i'm talking about it

username5 OMG

username6 when will it be my turn😣

username7 new wag PLEASE

username8 they NEED to date or else i will be upset

landonorris

Liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1, and others

landonorris nice little break😊

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username1 WHAT

username2 wait...but y/n posted a few days ago and she was shooting a movie, so who is this???

username3 streets are saying this isn't y/n😔

yourusername looks fun, invite me next time!

username4 oh so it wasn't her

username5 i am a child of divorce

username6 WDYM THATS NOT Y/N??

username7 but they would literally be the IT couple

username8 fr, the chemistry was unmatched

username9 guys what if she's just saying that to throw us off?

username10 okay but she is literally filming for a movie she can't just go on vacation

yourusername just added to their story

Caption: who's this cutie?

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username1 YES MY PARENTS HAVE REUNITED

landonorris hmm i don't know, you should ask him🤔

username2 is his gf ok with you calling him cute??? homewrecker

username3 interesting...

username4 THE HEART IM CRYING

username5 yall are so perfect

yourusername

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yourusername fun weekend😚

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username1 WHITE BOY SPOTTED

username2 dare i say it...is that lando

username3 he already has a gf

username4 you know who's eyes look like that?🤭

username5 bruh there's billions of people in this world it could be anyone

username6 hold on im trying to spell gorjus

username7 interesting...

landonorris

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landonorris fuck a soft launch

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username1 OMG I KNEW IT

yourusername LANDO WHAT ABOUT OUR PLAN??

landonorris sorry🤷‍♂️

yourusername ur lucky i love you

username2 YALL TRICKED US WTF

username3 bout time omfg

maxfewtrell Congrats, mate!

username4 yayy!! sleeping on the highway tonight🤗

username5 power couple fr

username6 quick everyone act surprised!

yourusername

Liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, and others

yourusername yes it was me all along

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username1 MY PARENTS IM SO HAPPY

username2 dare i say the hottest couple ever??

landonorris my sweetheart🧡

username3 when will it be my turn😫

username4 HOLY SHIT IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS

username5 i want what they have

taglist: @evasmlp @partnerincrime0 @r0nnsblog @raizelchrysanderoctavius @daniiiboo @wisestarfishbouquet @noodleysalad @thatgirlwholikescars @jxnellat @blakebearsblog @angelluv444 @pretty-little-bunny382728 @etterdotexe @scopeiguess @noope306 @burning8wood @styl1shl1v @venusandstardust @daniellef89x @nzygftoji @laheykol06 @blodwyn4u @allthings-fandoms @woozarts @astroniii @lilorose25 @dejavuontrack @xxx-betty @wobblymug @m3ntally-unstable @armystay89 @sarakay-gvf @kar1nsworldx @velentine @rexit-mo @blodwyn4u @lammys-thinking @sam02009 @kaorisakamotofan @taylorsvogue13 @loveparkersblog @delicatetrashtree @hashmiya @noodleboyluke @heavy-vettel @ilivbullyingjeongin @theblueblub @bloodyymaryyy @stressed-cherry @da-writer

[starsreminisce]

Happy Elain Day!

for @elainweekofficial

Word Count: 3K

It was a small shop in the town square, one Elain had passed frequently since she began preparing for her wedding. Its unassuming facade lent it an air of mystery, unlike the neighboring shops, whose glittering displays beckoned to window shoppers. Wedding planning had become exhausting, made worse by the constant clashes between Graysen and Nesta over the dress, the food, the location. But Elain saw through her sister's action. She knew exactly why Nesta was being so difficult: she wanted Graysen to reconsider marrying into their family so he would break it off, sparing them the shame or delay until their father could give the proper blessing.

Elain had never cared for a grand wedding even as a child, so when she suggested they elope, Graysen launched into a lecture.

“Now, Elain,” he began, his tone bordering on condescending. “I am a lord's son. We can't elope like peasants, especially given our status in society. People might think you're with child.”

Elain glanced up at the clock tower in the town square. She still had half an hour before her appointment, but the thought of Graysen and Nesta bickering over the flower arrangements, something she wished she could at least have a say in, made her stomach churn.

The black brick of the shop and its tinted windows beneath a purple awning seemed to call to her today more so than the other days. It would only be thirty minutes, she reasoned. Even if she were to get lost in the place, she doubted her fiance or sister would notice if she was late to the florist, considering how little they’ve considered her opinions with everything else. Besides, what if the shop was actually empty? She had never seen anyone enter or leave.

Taking a deep breath, she marched toward the door. Her hand rested on the handle, and to her surprise, it opened.

A small bell chimed as she peeked inside. The shop had no displays, nothing to sell. The only decor was a single table with two comfortable-looking chairs set across from each other. The scent of burning sage lingered in the air, and tapestries of the beginning of Prythian adorned the walls.

She should have left. Instead, she stepped fully inside, her eyes drawn to the strange story the tapestries told. One in particular was a woman with outstretched hands holding a sphere that captivated Elain. Gooseflesh prickled her skin as she realized she was inside of a shop belonging to a Fae sympathizer.

Graysen and Nesta's voices echoed in her mind, berating her for her fae sympathies, even though their sister Feyre had left the family to live with a Fae lover. Even though their father had always reminded them that they all shared this land.

“Hello, dearie,” a croaking voice stopped her from leaving.

Elain spun around to see a weathered woman. Long, graying hair cascaded past her shoulders. She wore a deep blue dress, and a silver circlet with a pale blue stone rested between her brows. Her eyes were sharp as she looked at Elain with interest.

“I was just leaving,” Elain murmured, avoiding eye contact.

“Have you been having doubts about your upcoming marriage?”

Elain’s gaze dropped to her left hand, where her pearl-and-diamond ring sat. She curled her fingers into a fist, as if she could hide it. She wasn’t sure if the crone had seen it before she asked.

“I'm sure it's just normal wedding jitters,” Elain managed, inching toward the door. “Thank you for your time.”

“Then would you want to know about the man in your dreams?”

That gave Elain pause, her heart pounding at the words. She had never told anyone about him. The mystery man had appeared in her dreams only a few days after Feyre left. His face was always hidden behind a fox mask, and each dream left her more unsettled than the last.

In the first, she saw him being flogged. His back was torn open, but his face stayed calm, refusing to show any pain.

In the second, he was drugged, dragged, and chained beneath a bed of spikes, yet he remained still, as if resigned to his fate.

The third dream was filled with violence. Nightmarish creatures attacked him, but with unnatural speed, he fought them off, cutting through them effortlessly even after he fell off his horse.

But the last dream was the most haunting. She had watched him stand before the same golden beast that had taken Feyre from them.

Elain swallowed hard and faced the crone. “Can you stop the nightmares?”

The woman gave a small, sad smile. “No, I cannot.”

“What exactly do you sell?”

“I read fortunes,” the crone said softly. “If the Mother deigns to show you who the man is, you will see.”

Elain’s curiosity gnawed at her. Her head urged her to leave, to let it go, reasoning that if it were important, the answers would come in time. But her heart… her heart needed to know. She needed to know who he was, why his presence in her nightmares lingered long after she woke, as if his pain was somehow hers to bear.

“How much?” she asked, her better judgment faltering.

“Whatever you can offer.”

Elain hesitated, her mind bouncing from one thought to another, until she felt a tug low beneath her ribcage. Fortune readings were becoming popular among her friends, she reasoned. Surely, there was nothing dangerous about it. She found herself nodding and followed the crone to a small table. Taking a seat, she placed a gold mark on the table, which the crone pocketed without a word.

The old woman lit a stick of palo santo, swirling the fragrant smoke through the air, around the deck and the tight space, before resting it in a ceramic holder. Elain watched as the crone shuffled her cards. The rhythm of it was hypnotic, and time seemed to blur, until finally, the crone paused. Her brows knit together, and she tilted her head, as if listening to a voice only she could hear, before drawing the cards.

Three cards: Four of Wands reversed, Tower, Death.

“Not good,” the crone said, her eyes narrowing. “The foundation is shaky. Something will come to destroy its foundation, causing you to be reborn.”

Elain immediately thought this woman was a scam artist, waiting to peddle crystals and old bath water to salvage her engagement. She could almost see the words forming on the crone’s lips, ready to spill out like a rehearsed script.

She was ready to leave until the crone pulled three more cards: Ace of Cups, Knight of Swords, The Sun.

“There is someone new coming,” the crone continued. “He will come like a knight in shining armor, one who reminds you of the sun.”

Elain tried not to scoff. Despite his shortcomings, she loved Graysen with all her heart, and the idea of someone new coming to sweep her off her feet sounded highly unlikely.

“Is it the man from my dreams?” she asked, curious by the crone’s certainty.

Nine of Swords, Page of Cups, Seven of Cups.

“Yes,” she affirmed. “You’re having nightmares about this young man because your fates and souls are intertwined, but the path ahead is unclear. There are many choices, many possibilities. Some real, some illusion. You’re struggling to see the truth through the confusion.”

“Can you tell me more about him?” she pressed.

King of Wands, Seven of Wands, Nine of Wands reversed.

“He is a fiery male,” the crone said. “Meant to be a ruler, but it seems he has been treated as an underdog so much that he tries to avoid conflict and is exhausted from doing so.”

Elain clicked her tongue in disbelief. This man sounded like the farthest thing from what she wanted in a lifelong partner. She preferred men who were decisive, calm, and steady—like Graysen, who seemed the very picture of what she was looking for. But fiery? Avoids conflict? That didn’t sit right with her. None of it aligned with the traits she valued.

The crone pulled three more cards: Strength, Three of Swords, Two of Swords reversed.

“Be careful not to be so stubborn,” she tapped on the Strength card with a long, bony finger. “Your heart will hurt, and it will make you feel closed off. If you're not careful, you’ll do something that you’ll come to regret.”

Elain said nothing as the crone pulled three more: Three of Cups reversed, Eight of Swords reversed, Ten of Swords reversed.

“You will get the wandering eye. It’s due to no fault of your own, but your actions will be your undoing.”

Eight of Cups, Wheel of Fortune, Nine of Cups.

“Things will change for the better,” the crone reassured her. “Only when you decide to leave for good will your wish come true.”

“And what might that be?” Elain asked, chewing her lip.

Two of Cups, Hierophant, Ten of Cups.

“An equal love in marriage to bring you the home you longed for,” the crone concluded.

Elain waited for the crone to sell her something to assure her of this future, but she merely nodded her head, her eyes losing their sharpness as if the reading had drained her. Elain still didn’t believe a word of it but nonetheless offered two more gold marks for a tip before leaving to join her sister and fiance at the florist, arriving right on time as they argued over Baby’s Breath.

The reading stayed with her until Graysen noticed her being distracted. She winced and said the wedding planning was stressful, which then he agreed. She laid with Graysen that night. A futile action as though to cement that if she gave him everything, she would always his.

She had forgotten about the reading when Feyre came back, now changed into a fae, seeking to use their home to broker an agreement with the Queens.

Feyre told her story, but her arched ears were more of interest to Elain, until the name Lucien sparked something deep in the recesses of Elain's mind. She didn’t know why this name was so important to her, why she gravitated towards it as though it were a string being pulled towards her. She listened to Nesta and Feyre argue back and forth, her engagement ring mocking her to tempt fate, until she finally said, “If … if we do not help Feyre, there won’t be a wedding. Even Lord Nolan’s battlements and all his men couldn’t save me from … from them.”

Mere days after being told the Queens refused to help, a cowled priestess stumbled in, pale as death, her wide eyes darting frantically. “Feyre,” she gasped, trembling. “Captured. Tortured.” Her voice faltered as Elain and Nesta rushed to steady her, but the terror clung to her words like a curse. Before either sister could react, the priestess added, her voice breaking, “Come with me quick.”

“No,” said Nesta.

Elain whimpered as rough hands shoved a gag into her mouth, her tears streaming silently as she was yanked into the shadows. Her captors paid no attention to her shaking or the weak struggles of her body, her kicks and blows finding only empty air.

Her quiet sobs soaked her gag as they dragged her toward the Cauldron. Her feet scraped against the cold stone floor, her fingers clawing desperately for something—anything—to hold on to. But there was nothing. Somewhere through the chaos, a male voice shouted a command to stop. That it was enough. But it didn’t matter. The icy black water loomed before her, and then—then it swallowed her whole.

Cold. All-consuming cold ripped through her body, and her soul felt as though it was being shredded, torn apart like delicate lace. Elain thrashed, but the water had her, seeping into her lungs, her bones, her very thoughts. This is death, she realized in a strange, detached way. Her body was breaking, dissolving, as if she was being unmade, piece by piece.

So this is what dying feels like.

She hit the ground hard facedown, sucking in air as water streamed from her, a gasp of air filling her chest with burning life. Her soaked nightgown clinging to her skin as she rose from the ground onto her elbows. Yet all she could focus on was her shame, as ridiculous and misplaced as it was, as she shivered on the wet stones, her legs and breasts on display.

Her mind held one absurd thought: I am dead, and all I care about is how indecent I must look.

He will come like a knight in shining armor that reminds you of the sun.

A light flared. Too bright. It pierced through her dazed vision, and she squinted. Worn Boots thudded toward her and before she could react, a warm jacket was draped over her trembling shoulders. Elain flinched, instinct curling her further into herself, expecting more violence, more violation. But the jacket … the jacket smelled of chestnuts and something warm—something almost like hope.

He is a fiery male.

Strong arms lifted her as Nesta poured out of the cauldron. Firm, but gentle. She was weightless in them, and for a moment, she let herself surrender to the feeling, the water still streaming from her like the last remnants of a terrible nightmare. He was so warm, so comforting, even in the midst of the chaos. He grounded her. She believed she was safe until her sister tore her away from her knight. She needed to know his name, staring as she waited.

He never offered it.

She could feel instincts running through her: Mine. I am yours. You are mine…

“…mate,” his whisper broke through the chanting.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

All she could do at that moment was to stare at him until another flash of blinding white light came, reminding her of him, even if it came from Feyre. Elain clutched the jacket, inhaling its scent, wishing he were holding her instead until a blonde fae slammed her mate away, and she was gone.

As soon as Elain materialized into the large house perched atop the mountain, she clutched to the jacket draped on her shoulders. The air was thick with silence, but she broke it with a scream, the sound ricocheting through the red halls.

“Take me home!” she cried again and again, each plea more ragged than the last, until her words became nothing more than a hoarse whisper. Exhaustion claimed her, her body collapsing into a heavy slumber, as though the weight of her cries had stolen every ounce of strength she had left.

The iron ring on her finger felt heavier, a cold reminder of a debt she owed. Beneath her rib, the golden string—delicate and shimmering—tugged gently, a promise, a tether she couldn’t name but always felt. She drifted somewhere between the worlds of waking and dreaming.

Faces blurred and shifted—her mate, her betrothed—figures flickering like shadows at the edge of her consciousness. She was pulled between what she was owed and what she was promised.

Again, she opened the windows, trying to let more sunlight in. But no matter how much light flooded the room, it couldn’t pierce the murkiness clouding her mind. She glimpsed a male figure bathed in sunlight, and then a woman—transformed into a fiery bird—screeching in anger. Loud. Everything was loud. The earth groaned beneath her, shifting and unstable.

The light she let in did nothing to clear her visions. The shadows remained.

Finally, she heard Feyre’s voice.

“I want to go home,” Elain murmured, her voice softer now, as though she were speaking to herself. Then, in the stillness, she heard it—a heartbeat. Deep, rhythmic, intimate. It thudded inside her chest, yet it was not her own. She knew without knowing that this heartbeat was home.

The golden string shimmered before her eyes, pulsing like a beacon. She rose from her bed, drawn by its soft glow, her feet moving before her mind could catch up. It led her through the quiet corridors, past the cold stone walls, past Nesta’s fussing voice, until she found herself in front of a window. She sat. She waited. The heartbeat grew louder, more insistent. Was he speaking to her? Was this real? She couldn't tell if she was still dreaming, lost in that liminal space between sleep and waking. She didn’t respond, and didn't dare to break the spell.

The sunlight hit his eye—golden, strange, glowing.

He will come like a knight in shining armor that reminds you of the sun.

She turned slowly.

His presence filled the room, familiar and yet foreign. His gaze held hers, unwavering, as though he had been waiting for her to see him fully.

He didn’t have dark hair. He didn’t exude the quiet, mysterious confidence she thought she’d been searching for.

But he was him—the most beautiful man, no, the most beautiful male she had ever seen.

And in that moment, she knew. Knew it as surely as if it were a memory she had long forgotten, buried deep beneath years of doubt and hesitation. She was his, as he was hers.

“Who are you?”

“I am Lucien,” he said, his voice steady. “Seventh son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.”

The name crashed into her like a wave, sweeping away the fog that had clouded her mind. She blinked, the murkiness around her vision dissolving as everything clicked into place. His name, the golden string, the heartbeat—it all made sense now. It was as though the sunlight that she would flood her bedroom for days had finally broken through into her very being, illuminating the truth buried deep within her soul.

“Lucien,” she whispered, tasting the name on her tongue. “From my sister’s stories. Her friend.”

If she had remembered the rest of the crone’s reading, it might have saved her—saved her from the ache that had lived inside her chest for so long, from the feeling of betrayal that gnawed at the edges of her heart, from the waiting, the endless waiting, for happiness she thought would never come.

But then again, Elain had never been one to believe in premonitions. She had never tempted fate—until the one time she did. And that had led her here, to him, to her mate.

The Mother, in her twisted sense of humor, had given her the same gift.

[camil0ncha]

I like to dress the jesters up. Sue me.

Featuring cute outfits from pinterest and my very original do not steal y/n. She hand-sews all their outfits and they do fashion shows on fridays :)

[racingliners]

Lewis Hamilton's race engineer Peter Bonnington in the Mercedes garage at the Chinese Grand Prix - Sunday 14th April 2019

[dandyshucks]

i saw a post a few months back that was about how ppl should draw body hair more and someone in the replies was like "i agree but do u have any tips to make it less of a slog to draw"

and i was just sitting there like. you just gotta go into a trance. a trance fueled by spite and thirst in equal measures. and then come out the other side with body hair drawn meticulously on that bod. if u can't achieve that nirvanic trance-state inspired by the sheer lust for body hair then there is simply nothing that can help you with this quest. godspeed.

[katszumi]

silence immersed the room as the door clicked shut behind you. the ticking clock a reminder of how little time you have.

“you’re such an asshole, you know that?” you spewed to the male in front of you, your features displaying a look of anger.

katsuki rolled his eyes. “well, it’s not like i get called a ray of fuckin’ sunshine. what else did you honestly expect?” he crossed his arms over his chest, taking a seat atop of the long metal table.

“not much, yet you still seem to subceed my expectations.”

“subceed? seriously?” katsuki paused to let a scoff escape his lips. “you’re upset because i’m actually selling this story? the only one, might i add. this was your shitty grand idea!”

unknowingly, you took a step forward.

“the idea was to make it known we disliked each other. not for you to publicly shame and insult me!”

you, katsuki and a few other heroes were invited to attend a press conference. while the original topic was to discuss about the mission you all completed the day before, the topic began to stray away and focus on the relationship between you and katsuki.

japan knows of the hatred you and katsuki shared between each other, that was no unknown fact. the media described you two as fiery rivals considering both of your quirks contained fuel.

you two despised each other. or at least that’s the lie you fooled everyone with.

you were unsure when katsuki started to look appealing to the eye, how attractive he was when he was drowned in sweat, how you began to long for the small but noticeable glances he sent you in public. you couldn’t tell when it happened. but before you knew it, a small pool of desire that had katsuki’s name printed on it began to fill every minute of the day.

“which is no different than what we used to do. you want them to believe it? then don’t take my shit. suck it up and be a bigger asshole than i already am.” he was right. you know he was right. but it was so difficult to pretend as if you hated him.

even if you called him a bitch, or a cunt, maybe even call him out for having a small dick—which you know is far from the truth—that still wouldn’t deny the peace you felt whenever you were with katsuki. how the world seemed to stop still on its axis. how there were no rain, wind or time. just pure bliss.

fuck.

out of everyone, it just had to be him? his captivating, intense ruby irises. his brash, abrasive demeanor. only his words that could seem to sway you. the man the world deemed you to abhor.

instead of admitting the truth, you twist his words. “well, i’m pleased to know it’s so easy for you to do.”

“jesus fuck, y/n.” now, katsuki rose from his position, never once breaking eye contact with you. “you think this is easy for me? you think i like getting up there and lying through my teeth? doing this is the one of the hardest things i’ve ever done.”

he walks closer and even closer to you, minimizing the distance you established for good reasons. this is how it always happens; one of you forgets about the space you two have to maintain until words don’t seem to work anymore. instead, your lips weave together, forming a new way to communicate.

but you don’t move. you don’t want to.

“is it? all those insults feels like it comes pretty smooth to you.”

katsuki pauses as he takes a second to analyze you. his eyes scan your body then leading right up to your face.

“because those are the words i wish i could mean. every time, it burns me to say those things about you when i’d rather be up there claiming every single part about you.” he lowered to a whisper, but his voice maintained a fervent tone.

his hand raises, slow and steady. he cups your cheek, gently swiping his thumb across your cheek. instinctively, you lean into his palm, your eyes softening as you gaze into his eyes.

“you think i enjoy this?” you watch his jaw tighten, his hand dropping to your hip. “think i like watching you talk with those eager men? it takes everything in me to not beat them shitless for daring to come across you. do you know how hard it is to fight the urge to pull you in and show them that you’re not available?”

too captivated by his words, you didn’t notice how katsuki lowered his head. you could feel the heat of his body from how he gave you no room to breathe. he placed his lips on your soft skin, slowly kissing the side of your neck.

no. resist him. your mind was screaming. this couldn’t go on forever. at some point, you guys had to stop.

“what will make them back off? if i mark you up? think they’ll understand then?” he proposed the question, but to you, it seemed more like he was asking for permission.

you didn’t know what effect katsuki placed on you to have you like this. but in this moment, you didn’t care about the rumors, the consequences, your image. it was all pushed back in the back of your head. so, you slightly tilted your head upwards, giving him more leeway to continue.

katsuki gripped your hips. not too strong to leave a mark but strong enough to squeeze a small moan out of you.

“don’t you fuckin’ understand, y/n?” he leans away to look in your eye.

“what?” you meekly responded.

“i go insane when it comes to you. i’m not the kind of guy that drools over any woman’s attention. but, you… fuck.” he stops himself, from what you can only assume was to control himself with whatever he was about to say. “not being able to have you only makes me crave you more.”

you stay quiet.

“you know how many times i’ve tried to resist you?”

“how many?” finally, you spoke.

“too many fuckin’ times. i’m done fighting it, y/n.”

confusion struck your face. “what do you mean?”

“be mine. forget the press, forget our pr managers. be with me.” katsuki brings you closer with the hand placed on your hip, the action drawing you to one conclusion.

he leans in and interlocks his lips with yours. immediately, you drown in the feeling of his soft but chapped lips that you couldn’t seem to push away. somehow, you find the strength to pull back from him.

“not here. not in pub-”

“yes here.”

with his tone, you could mistake him to be aggressive in this moment. but over the months, you managed to be able to read his eyes from the forbidden glances he’s sent your way; how he really felt through the way he wore his eyes.

katsuki’s eyebrows were slightly furrowed, his soft ruby eyes shifted from your lips to your e/c irises.

there was a look behind his eyes. there were more watchful, more tender than usual. almost as if he was pleading with his eyes. like he was begging.

so, how could you say no to him in this state? him being so vulnerable with you?

but that was always the problem.

you could never say no to katsuki bakugou, no matter what.

your arms wrap around his neck, drawing him in with your eyes. he inclined his head and laid his lips on your mouth. the silence that did wrap the room ten minutes ago was replaced with the noise of sloppy kisses, your mouths powering over each other.

you can feel your heart rate increase from the action, even more noticeably so when he entangles a fist in the back of your shirt. he needs you closer, maybe within his skin if possible.

following his action, you guide your fingers through his ash blonde strands, sending a shiver down his spine. he nibbles on the bottom of your lip, pulling it just slightly.

“we really shouldn’t be doing this.” your murmur, yet his ears catches it. “this would be the hottest topic for the media.”

a snicker parted his lips. “we just can’t be caught. but the day you stop being scared, i’m ready.” his words vague and simple, yet still holding so much promise.

“i hate you.”

and you did. you hated that he was too enticing. too irresistible.

“thought it was hard for you to say things you don’t mean?” he referred from earlier. of course, that was just like him. the same him you mistakenly fell for.

“just shut up.” was all you replied with before leaning back in to connect his lips with yours, choosing to help him with your statement.

this was supposed to be like a forbidden love trope but i think i just revealed how thirsty i am😔

[loonylupinblack3]

First Win

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: in which Lando's first win helps the two of you finally get together

Warnings: swearing, my utter HAPPINESS AND AWE THAT LANDO WON, also not edited bc i wanted to post it as soon as possible

Word count: 1.1k

A/N: you guys dont UNDERSTAND how fucking happy i am im literally sobbing oh my GOD

You were pushing your way through the crowd, trying to find Lando, all the while your heart was fucking soaring. You were so proud of him, probably one of your closest friends, finally achieving this incredible success in his career. He deserved all of it and more, and you were so proud of him.

Getting P8 yourself, you weren’t upset with your score, though you could have done better, but it seemed insignificant compared to Lando’s win and how excited you were for him. You knew you probably wouldn’t get to talk to him until much later; he was the star of the day, a very busy man with hundreds of people demanding his attention, but you hoped for at least a look of him, maybe if you were lucky a smile, to show your utter joy of him winning.

The grid was packed, however, and even with your status as a driver it was still a challenge getting through the swarms of people. You pushed and shoved, mumbling apologies, almost desperate to see your friend before he went on the podium.

You and Lando were close. Even for co-workers you guys had a special relationship. You just clicked, able to understand each other without having to work for it. Even only actually knowing each other for a few years you felt you’d known him for a lifetime.

Sure, there may have been some… other feelings towards him that you harboured, but you refused to let them risk your friendship with Lando so you kept them hidden, shoved deep inside you and pretended to be ignored, even though in reality they seemed to have a chokehold on you.

You didn’t know if Lando felt the same and honestly weren’t sure if you wanted to know. You already had this incredible relationship with him, this understanding you shared with no one else, and you weren’t willing to risk it for anything, even to end the aching longing you felt sometimes when looking at him.

You finally managed to push your way through the crowd, now at the edge of a couple fences blocking the part of the grid where only certain F1 employees were able to be. Usually you wouldn’t have been able to go, what with you receiving an eighth position and not a podium, but you were determined to see Lando closer, maybe even give him a quick hug.

You were just so fucking proud of him, and you didn’t know what to do with the overwhelming feeling. He’d opened up to you multiple times in the past, confessing his feelings of failure, of being unable to get a win and how much that affected him, how shameful he was because of it. You knew how much his lack of wins haunted him and his career, so to gain a win, to achieve something like this, it was truly amazing, and your pride for him was overflowing. 

You managed to wheedle your way through the fences, using your driver status and known close friendship with Lando to your advantage, slipping through and immediately looking around for the Miami Grand Prix winner.

You followed the sound of cheering, rounding a corner to find the massive group of Mclaren employees behind a small fence, with Lando on top of them crowd surfing, laughing and looking like the happiest man alive.

Today he was exactly that.

You stood to the side, grinning like a maniac seeing Lando so happy. Your heart was near bursting, you couldn’t stop smiling even if you wanted to. You stayed silent though, not wanting to drag attention to yourself and get kicked out, but seeing him so fucking happy was more than enough for you.

So when Lando distractedly glanced around, a joyous smile on his face, and saw you, his smile widening, your heart warmed. You told yourself it was nothing big, but when he left his team to walk over to you, jog over, actually, your smile turned even bigger.

“Congratulations,” you exclaimed before leaping into his arms, wrapping your own tightly around his neck. His own hands came up to hug you back, holding you tightly against him. “I’m so fucking proud of you Lando.”

Lando squeezed you tighter, still not letting go. You were more than content to stay in his arms, pressing your head into the crook of his neck, ignoring the flashing cameras that would be following Lando for the rest of the day.

When the two of you eventually pulled back, however reluctantly, Lando was beaming. He looked gorgeous like that, genuinely happy, nothing able to bring down his mood. He was riding the high of winning, still heavily influenced by the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

Maybe what was why he kissed you, in front of millions of people, taking them and you by surprise. Or maybe it was because he was having the perfect fucking day, and having you in his arms would have made it all the more better.

Either way you were certainly taken off guard as Lando stared at you for a split-second, eyes tracing your face before they landed on your lips, and then the next second he was leaning in and pressing his lips against yours.

There was an onslaught of noise as he did it, the cameras going crazy, people yelling and cheering, yet it was all distant. All you could focus on was Lando’s soft lips against yours, dragging his mouth across your own.

You kissed him back without thinking, your hands snaking back around his neck. His hand gripped your waist, tugging you closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue flicking your lower lip and forcing you to swallow a moan lest you want the whole world to hear it.

Lando had the gall to grin against your lips, no doubt hearing your gasp before you could muffle it completely. You pulled back, giving him a ‘what the fuck man’ stare and he just shrugged, keeping his hand firmly around your waist.

You shook your head but your emotions were in overdrive, everything inside you screaming for more. You pressed your head into the crook of his neck again, hearing his soft chuckle as his hands roamed your back.

“We are having a very serious talk after this,” you whispered in his ear.

He paused, before whispering back, “good or bad?”

You pulled back to stare at Lando, his curls sticking to his forehead from sweat, his eyes alight with an excitement you hadn’t seen in a while, his face slightly red from exertion and happiness.

You smiled at him. “Definitely good.”

Lando grinned and pulled you back for another kiss, blatantly ignoring the paparazzi around you. He murmured into your lips, “I’m so fucking lucky.”

You couldn’t help but ask, “how so?”

He grinned against your lips again. “Winning the race and the girl in one day.”

[arieslost]

fireproofs | ln4

summary: lando norris is hot and the 2024 fireproofs drive you crazy.

word count: 756

warnings: suggestive comments

masterlist — join my tag list here!

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

you’ve been grateful to mclaren for many things over the years, but aside from a fast car, this has to be the best gift they’ve bestowed upon you.

you don’t think it’s an exaggeration when you say that your jaw unhinged the first time you saw lando wearing the new black fireproofs that mclaren has him and oscar in for the 2024 season. he’d sent you pictures, along with a text saying, “what do you think? 👀”

you’d responded with “yeah, not bad” and subsequently spent the next half hour screaming into your pillow. you were able to save face over text, but now that testing is here, you’re a lost cause.

you’d seen lando in black fireproofs before, but something about this year is different. something about him is different. he’s more confident, more determined, and he somehow managed to fill out even more during winter break.

lando had felt bad for mclaren’s car launch sabotaging your valentine’s day, so while you were in the middle of insisting that it wasn’t a big deal, he was booking you a plane ticket to join him in bahrain for the grand prix and testing the week before.

so now, you’re twiddling your thumbs as you sit in your boyfriend’s driver room, both anxious to see him before his testing session begins and hoping he’ll be occupied on the pit wall for just a little longer so you can figure out how to keep your composure once he changes into his race suit.

“you’re still here?” it comes out like half an exclamation and half a question as lando slips into the room.

“you haven’t even gone out on the track, of course i’m still here,” you giggle when he pulls you into his arms and starts pressing kisses all over your face. “i can’t wait to see you put the car through its paces. oscar looked pretty good out there.”

“i’d rather put you through your paces,” he mumbles in your ear, and you smack his shoulder.

“maybe later, if you’re not too tired.”

“i’m never too tired for you.” he winks and kisses your nose before turning to change.

you have no shame in ogling his ass out of the corner of your eye as he does so, but for the most part you’re looking at updates from the first session on your phone until he sits down next to you to put his shoes on.

those damn fireproofs.

they hug his body a little too nicely. the muscles in his chest, back, and arms are perfectly defined courtesy of the tight material. you can’t even think about his shoulder to waist ratio without feeling a little dizzy with desire.

“you’re drooling,” he teases as he stands back up, the both of you knowing damn well that he loves it when you stare at him.

“i can’t help it, you’re too hot.” you’ve never had a problem with telling him just how fine he is, especially because your praise always manages to make him blush and that just makes him impossibly more attractive.

“how am i supposed to let you leave this room?” you complain, wrapping your arms around his torso.

he buries his red face in your shoulder. “the sooner i leave, the sooner i come back and show you a good time.”

“i thought you were taking me out to dinner.”

“that’s what i was talking about,” his tone is dripping in faux innocence, and you know he’s messing with you when you feel him kiss your neck. “good to know where your priorities lie, though.”

you open your mouth to patronize him, but you’re cut off when he squeezes your hips, causing you to yelp. “you are impossible.”

“hmm, good thing you love me so much then.” you can hear his smile as he speaks, and you run your hands across his back, feeling every ridge of muscle through the material of the fireproofs.

your phone starts buzzing in your pocket— the alarm you’d set to remind yourself of when he needed to get in the car. “alright,” you reluctantly separate yourself from him, taking one last lingering look at his figure before he pulls the other half of his race suit on. “i’ll stay for an hour or two and meet you back at the hotel, okay?”

“what dress are you wearing tonight?” he asks as he holds the door open for you.

“the papaya one,” you smirk, and he groans, dragging a hand through his hair.

“you’re gonna kill me, baby.”

note: i wrote most of this at 2 am in a purely feral state and did the bare minimum in editing because i’m drowning in schoolwork so apologies if it’s a bit rough!! mclaren posted a 10 second video of lando and oscar walking around and that was all it took.

lowercase is intentional because i wrote entirely on mobile!

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are always appreciated <33

beautiful dividers by @/saradika !

tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @emmma232 @lieswithoutfairytales @valisjustvaleria @bwormie @meribfox @xfuckoffx @rai-scutum @clara760-blog @reptaysgf @harryismysworld @caz-93 @positiveaspirations @satanfinalgirl @ln4lova @crazymofo-96 @x-d1vine @anedpev

[formulawolff]

"you belong here" - s.v.

pairing: gf!reader x aston martin!sebastian vettel

word count: 1.5k

warnings: (slight) age gap relationship, a little bit of cursing here and there, seb being absolutely down bad for the reader, some (slight) angst, the general public being judgmental, (slight) slut shaming, the drivers being little shits (as always), yadayadayada

a/n: i am a perfectionist when it comes to writing personalities, mannerisms, cadences of words, etc. so if i happened to not do the best job with this fic, please be patient with me!!! this is my first time writing for seb!!! i am open to feedback!!! <3

"okay, from the top. how many drivers are there?"

"twenty."

"nope!" he shakes his head, his lips curling into a smug smirk, "there are nineteen drivers. sorry love, but you were incorrect."

"sebastian," you scoff, rolling your eyes, "you needed to specify if you were included. because if you weren't included, there would be nineteen other drivers. if you were, there would be twenty."

"that's why it's called a trick question," his hand squeezes yours, "your hands are clammy, by the way."

"maybe because i'm nervous?" you counter, "this is my first time tagging along to a grand prix, you know."

"i know," he brings your hand to his mouth, kissing it tenderly, "i'm sorry for being a little pest."

"you're not a pest," your heart swells at the gesture, "i'm just anxious to meet everyone, that's all."

"oh they'll love you," confidence oozes out of his words, "i have no doubts about that."

sebastian vettel, four time world drivers' champion, was your boyfriend of the last year or so. the two of you met online, as you had slid into his dms on instagram after a very intoxicated evening out with friends.

since you had a love for formula one since you were a teenager, you admired drivers such as lewis hamilton, nico rosberg, daniel ricciardo, and well, sebastian.

you weren't quite sure where the love for the sport came from, but you could remember the sleepless nights you spent on youtube, eagerly clicking through racing highlights through various grand prixes. the sleepovers where your friends would be doing makeovers on you or painting your nails as you chattered about all of the driver drama and lore.

so, when you learned that mr. vettel was very single, and very open to the world of dating, you decided to shoot your shot. it took about six or seven drinks, but you mustered the courage to type out those fateful words.

i heard your single. we should change that.

shockingly, you received a response not too long after sending the message.

i believe it's *you're and not your. why should i take you up on your offer? you're a very beautiful woman but i need a little more information before i take you out on a date. ;)

from that message, the two of you chatted constantly, getting to know one another in-between shifts at your job, and his free time between races, press conferences, and training sessions.

eventually, he asked for your number, requesting a facetime call. you obliged, the two of you talking for hours upon hours that night. only a week or so later, he flew you out to his place in switzerland, requesting that you spend the weekend with him.

you did, falling for him the moment you met him in person. well, not like it was difficult by any means. with his charming aura and goofy persona, you felt comfortable almost immediately, letting your walls come crashing down.

nothing was too much or too out-of-pocket. you could make all of the vulgar jokes you wished, and he would laugh right along, only escalating the joke further. you could cry on his shoulder about anything, and he would happily rub your back, wiping away the tears that fell. he would hold you every night you slept together, not letting go until you wriggled away in the mornings.

and now, here you were, hand-in-hand as you entered the paddock. your heart skips a beat as your gaze falls on lance stroll, sebastian's fellow driver and teammate.

upon seeing you, his mouth curves into a bright smile, "look who it is!"

"i know you're not that excited to see me," sebastian pouts, "or did you really miss me that much?"

lance rolls his eyes at sebastian, sticking out his right hand, "good morning! i'm lance. i'm the other aston martin driver. well, you probably already know that."

"it's nice to meet you," you suppress a giggle, "i've heard a lot about you!"

"oh have you?" lance arches a brow, turning to sebastian, "have you been talking shit?"

"always pooks," sebastian chuckles, "not really. i just happen to talk a lot about racing. i'm sure she's tired of it by now."

"oh never," you flash sebastian a radiant grin, "i never get tired of all of the racing talk. i've loved formula one since i was about thirteen or so."

"that's awesome!" lance gushes, "you have yourself a keeper then, seb."

"i know i do," you feel his arm wrap around your shoulder, "should we go meet some fans? i promise they won't bite."

"fans?" you echo, a shiver running down your spine.

"well yeah," lance nods, "we have some time before we need to meet up with everyone. we usually chat with some fans, hand out some autographs. nothing too serious or glamorous."

"if you say so," you mumble, the words so quiet you were shocked you heard them.

it wasn't like you were dreading interacting with fans, it was just that you were a bit daunted by the idea.

ever since sebastian went public with you about a month ago, the reaction from the public was mixed. one half was adamant that you were too young for the driver, as there was an almost fifteen year age gap between the two of you. the plethora of negative comments that flooded the comment section of your instagram posts was almost too much to bear.

the other half, however, was very supportive, voicing that they "shipped" the two of you or that you were good for the driver. some comments even went as far to say that you were "a breath of fresh air", and that sebastian needed someone like you in his life.

yet, as the three of you stroll out of the paddock, you hoped for the latter. that the fans would be kind, welcoming you with open arms.

you could only dream, right?

"sebastian!"

"sebastian over here!"

voices flurry about, calling from all directions. everywhere all around, it was almost a sea of green, fans donning aston martin gear from head to toe. people of all ages flooded your field of vision, children hoisted on their parents shoulders to men and women in their seventies, maybe even their eighties.

"baby, can i see your purse?" his breath fans against your ear, snapping out of your trance.

"yeah," you nod, fumbling with your bag, "y-you need your sharpie, right?"

"hey," fingers find yours, intertwining them together, "it's just you and i. forget everyone else. just think about you and i."

"it's hard to-" you protest, yet you're swiftly cut off by a voice rising above the midst of the crowd.

"who invited the slut?"

sebastian's brows furrow, his eyes narrowing into slits, "what the fuck?"

more voices cut in, jeering.

"put her back in her crib! where she belongs!"

"you heard what i said! who invited that slut beside you?"

"goddamn," lance mutters under his breath, "what the fuck are they on right now?"

tears well up, threatening to spill over as you duck your head, lower lip trembling. sebastian senses your energy shift, wrapping a protective arm around your waist. he pulls you in close, pressing gentle kisses along your temple.

"come on, let's go back to the paddock. you don't deserve this."

lance flashes you a sympathetic glance before raising a hand, giving the crowd the finger, "whoever said that, this is for you!"

every aspect of the walk back is blurred as the tears fall. your lips are sealed tightly shut, suppressing the sobs rising in your chest.

you were barely here an hour and fans were already heckling you.

could you even last the weekend here?

did you even belong here?

"hey," his voice is soft, "come here."

blinking, you realize that he had taken you back to his motorhome, a private space for just the two of you. his arms are open, inviting you in. you nearly collapse into his chest, burying your head in it as he rubs your back.

"i'm so sorry."

"you don't have to be sorry," you shrug, swallowing the lump in your throat, "they're right. i don't belong here."

"stop that," fingers grasp your chin, tilting your head up, "you do belong here. you belong here just as much as anyone else does. i need you here."

"you promise?"

"i promise baby," sebastian tucks a few wisps of hair behind your ear, "you're irreplaceable. who cares what they think? just focus on me. it's just you and i this weekend, okay?"

"okay," you nod, sniffling slightly.

"you know what i think?" he leans in, the tip of his nose brushing against yours.

"what?" you inquire, the tears dissipating as he brings you in closer.

"they're just jealous that i have the most breathtaking, stunning, kindest, funniest girlfriend in the whole wide world. and no one, i mean no one, can take that away from me. you're mine baby. and nothing is ever going to change that."

you find yourself nearly crumbling into his chest once again, "you mean that?"

"of course i do. now, let's go try this again. if anyone is rude or hateful, i'll just spit on them, okay?"

[gay-dorito-dust]

Felix Catton x reader where he invites reader to Saltburn and he confesses his love to her. Super fluffy 🫶🏻😩

This was long as shit! But I hope you like it! 🦦

You honestly thought Felix was taking the piss upon extending you an invitation to spend the summer at Saltburn. You even waited for Farleigh to come out of nowhere to make his usual passive aggressive commentary in regard to your seemingly gullible nature, but nothing.

No Farleigh.

None of Felix’s little posse of posh cunts were nearby to poorly conceal their laugher behind their hands.

It was just you and Felix sat upon a stone bench somewhere, to which you must’ve looking like an right idiot, with your mouth opening and closing like an goldfish in disbelief at what you were hearing. ‘So what do you say?’ Felix asked after a prolonged period of awkward silence, looking as though a little on the verge of imploding at any given moment.

You blinked once, twice, then a third time for good measure before clearing your throat. ‘Yeah, sure…I’d love to but why me-‘ your sentence was cut off when Felix let out a relieved sigh as his mouth stretched into a smile, revealing his pearly whites, also as though he was…happy that you had accepted his invite; A reaction that naturally caused you to become curious as to figure out the reason why.

‘Oh thank fuck, you almost had me second guessing that you weren’t going to come.’ He said, looking at you with eyes that seemed to be reading your entire being, reading your each and every breath with such attention; so much that you swore it was as akin to that of a creator admiring his first creation. You -much like everyone else at Oxford- were very familiar with the stories that came with the supposed friends Felix had taken to Saltburn; they go to Saltburn, things seemingly get weird and the friendship is tarnished, then by summer’s end Felix next speaks with them again.

Used and discarded within the same breath.

You soon came to the conclusion that you didn’t want to be the next discarded toy on Felix’s long list of broken things. It would’ve been better had Felix kept his distance and stayed with his little posse, but he didn’t and now you were riddled with the endless possibilities that laid ahead of you. ‘Would’ve been a real shame if I did.’ You said, hyper aware of the fact that Felix was still staring intently at you. ‘But I’m glad you didn’t.’ He says softly, taking one last puff of his cigarette before its dying embers dwindled down to the bud, tossing it aside carelessly once it’s use has been served.

‘So am I.’ You replied, looking away from him and elsewhere as you pondered to yourself what you had gotten yourself into and what terrors would await for you at Saltburn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your first couple of days at Saltburn were okay to say the least.

Well that was mostly because Felix insisted that you’d spend the most of it together. So no matter where it was that you went through the manor, Felix was never far behind, looking over you like a protective shadow.

The pool? a shirtless Felix was sat poolside with a cigarette handing loosely from his lips, reflective shades concealing his dark eyes that you could feel shamelessly drinking you in as you dipped a toe.

The living room? Felix was there with a selection of movies and snacks that he retrieved from the kitchen along with comfy blankets.

The library? Felix was there reading a book that went over the treatment of women in Greek myths.

Bathroom? Felix was also there because upon giving you a grand tour of the intimidating building, he had informed you that you were to share a bathroom, instead of having you journey to the other side of the house to occupy another one.

You even remembered one time where you were deeply engaged in a topic with the likes of Farleigh and Venetia about Felix’s recent attitude towards you, with you being in denial and Farleigh and Venetia trying to make you see reason; When Felix came into the room as though looking for something, and upon seeing the three of you together, his jaw began to clench. It wasn’t until that very moment did you begin to take note of how Felix’s reluctance in having to share you with anyone else, and how it was staring to look something similar to a stubborn child who refused to share what he thought rightfully belonged to him.

‘Told you.’ Farleigh said with a winning smirk after Felix left the room in a huff. ‘He doesn’t want to share you with the rest of us, he only wants you for himself…and in more ways than one.’ He adds on, obviously knowing something that you didn’t.

‘What do you mean by that Farleigh?’ You had tried to ask but all he did was shrug nonchalantly and cryptically said, ‘you’ll see soon enough.’

You guessed you understood where Felix was coming from, I mean you did come here because of him, so naturally you were meant to be spending most of your time with him. However with what Farleigh had said earlier, you couldn’t help but theorise that there was a much deeper reasoning for Felix to have invited you to Saltburn; A theory that would later be put to the test when you were getting ready to go to bed, pulling back the covers just enough for you to slip in with ease, when a knocking at your door caught your ear.

‘Y/n. You in there? I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something recently and it couldn’t wait any longer.’ It was Felix. Your brows furrowed at this, what could he possibly want to talk about in the middle of the night?

As to not keep him waiting any longe then he might’ve been before knocking on your door. You quickly made your way to the door -though not before making sure you looked presentable- and opened it to see Felix stood in your doorway in his sleepwear, which consisted of a short sleeve shirt and a pair of blueish gray boxers, as his dark hair looked ruffled as though he had just been vigorously running his hands through it just minutes prior.

Either way he still looked extraordinarily appealing to the eye. However that was just how Felix looked to near enough everyone; extraordinarily delectable.

‘What conversation could possibly be so hard for you to not wait until tomorrow to have?’ You asked, brows raised, wanting nothing more than to put an end to all the mental gymnastics you’ve put yourself through within the past couple days; It got exhaustive after a while and his childish antics of giving you the cold shoulder didn’t make matters any better.

‘Look, I know I’ve been a bit of a dick to you recently.’ Felix began.

‘A bit?’ You echoed, slightly annoyed. ‘Felix you wouldn’t even look at me when I went to the pool, which if I remember correctly,’ you placed a finger on your chin, faking a face of deep thought before clicking your fingers and leaning in towards him, ‘you invited me to earlier that same day.’ You concluded dryly. ‘So how about you explain that before whatever you wanted to talk about, just so I’m given more of a clear picture as to where we stand.’

‘Fuck. I fucked up.’ Felix sighed under his breath as he ran his hand down his face, his dark eyes peering down the elongated hallway in hopes that no one -Farleigh- would come out and see what was all the commotion about, before they returned to look into yours and decided to just skip the words he was planning on telling you and just get straight to the point; long winded speeches of love was never his thing when he could just be straightforward about it. After all he was Felix fucking Catton, but it seemed that just being in your presence was enough to leave him a little speechless.

‘I like you.’ He began but immeditly felt that like wasn’t the right word to use when putting into words of what you did to him. ‘No, that don’t sound right because at the end of the day y/n, I fucking love you.’ Felix corrects himself and you immeditly felt the anything that you wanted to say to him exit your brain, as his sudden declaration took its place as the only thing that you could clearly focus on. ‘I brought you to Saltburn in hopes that one day I would stop being such a pussy and tell you how I truly felt.’ Felix then looked saddened as he continued. ‘Yet it seems that the only thing I’ve managed to accomplish is pushing you away because I thought that you wouldn’t want me like that, and would try to drive that home by spending time with Farleigh and Venetia.’ By the time Felix had finished pouring his heart out to you, everything leading up to this very moment started making a lot more sense, even Farleigh’s cryptic response made sense.

This entire time Felix was planning on confessing and Farleigh knew, which meant Venetia must’ve knew and therefore his parents considering how upon meeting them, they seemingly knew everything about you in incredible detail. You knew Felix was a bit of a blabber mouth under certain circumstances, but you didn’t ever think that he would ever rant to his parents about you in the slightest and in a positive light too. Though it did feel a little odd at first when Elspeth complimented your eyes but now you knew why and you couldn’t help but be flattered; Felix is a handsome and beautiful man that to be viewed within the same perspective was a new feeling entirely.

‘Really?’ You asked, biting the inside of your cheek, praying this wasn’t an extremely realistic dream.

‘Really.’ Felix replied without hesitation, beaming as he brazenly took a step towards you.

‘You’re not fucking with me?’ You asked again, still somehow not finding any of this remotely real, now bitting down on your bottom lip this time.

Felix stepped even closer to you now that you could feel his body heat, his hand gently holding you by the chin as his thumb gingerly pried your bottom lip from your teeth before then moving his head so that it was resting against your own, forcing you to focus on the dark pair of eyes that looked right back at you in a way that one would a masterpiece. ‘I’m not fucking with you.’ He spoke in a low but soft tone of voice. ‘I think you’re the most beautiful and the most amazing person I have ever met. You’re genuine, you’re kind but most importantly, you’re real and I both envy and adore you for that.’ Felix finishes and you couldn’t help but groan with impatience.

‘You could’ve conveyed all that if you would’ve kissed me.’ You whined, hands finding their home within his hair, raking and slightly tugging at the tresses, making him laugh. ‘As you wish.’ He utters cheekily as he then descends his lips upon yours in a passionate kiss that conveyed everything that had been said and more.

[wis-art]

The worst period of my life was when I was a self hating teenager in denial about being transgender. I grew up in a deeply abusive household and my father expected me to be his manly son and I tried to conform despite it driving me insane, I fell down many nasty rabbitholes because of my insecurities rooted in deep hatred of my body and deep hatred of what I should be, I have always felt uneasy looking at men in cartoons and movies thinking to myself how much I don't want to become that, always envying the girls and always dreaming about waking up as a girl. This all lead me online because I felt so isolated from the world and I couldn't relate to anybody. Of course an unmedicated self hating teenager, with grand delusions about being god's little special soldier, seeking ANY validation is bound to fall into some horrible places, i am one of the victims of the alt right pipeline, and it did drive me into suicidal spirals many times over how much I hated myself for being transgender. Eventually I snapped out of it and grew out of it but the taste in my mouth of ever associating myself with that kind of community is really disgusting and never seems to wash off from my tongue, which I suppose is good since I never want to be back there mentally. I despise the right wingers, seeing and experiencing their beliefs first hand, it's all just driven by hate and insecurity, the only reason why it's so popular is because these people prey on lack of knowledge and insecurity of any kind, offering easy solutions and quick fixes, putting an easy target to direct your hate towards just to deflect the hate away from yourself. It is not a valid or real solution or even political ideology, it's a grift and a worldview sold to people who know their future is uncertain, it's harnessing the societal instability and crisis for political and financial gain, and I was a sucker for it in my teenage years for which I apologize. Nowadays I am unapologetically a leftist, with flaws and gaps in knowledge, like any other human on this earth but fundamentally different and changed from when I was a kid, and I am proud of myself and I am proud to be the bad transgender bitch that I am. It took so much effort, medicine, therapy, help from my family, help from my friends for me to realize that I was wrong and that I need to change. I did not do it alone. And I'm glad I did it, and I'm happy to ve fortunate enough to receive help and support despite being a toxic unpleasant person to be around. All so I can just be Wis in peace a weird transgender woman on the internet, drawing trans women who despise the fascists and nazis. It's also why I so deeply believe in people changing and why I am so adamantly against harassing people for their mistakes for years, it just doesn't help, all it does is makes one ashamed and all shame does is drive one further into the abyss of self hatred. As corny as it sounds love has saved me and it is love and patience that helps people change

[rambling-at-midnight]

Pros and Cons of Midnight Snacks (Part 3; final part)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Civilian!Reader

Summary: Just minutes after discovering his secret identity, it’s time for you and Jason to clear the air about how the two of you actually met.

Word count: 3.4k

Your heart is racing a hundred miles a minute when you make it back to your apartment. And not just because of the five sets of stairs you have to walk up, although that's pretty bad.

You make sure that your roommate isn't home, then usher your cat out of your bedroom and open the window. You sit on the edge of your bed, nerves twisting in your stomach.

No, you can't stay still.

Also, your cat's scratching at the door, furious that he's been locked away.

You decide to wait in the living room instead.

His approach is soundless. You don’t hear him come through the window, or when he opens your bedroom door, but your cat meows happily and you turn around to see your six-foot-two lying boyfriend looming in your apartment.

“Is your roommate here?” he growls through the mask. Your cat yowls at his feet, wondering why Jason—the Red Hood—hasn’t begun to lavish him with attention yet.

“No, so you can take that off.”

You’re a little pleased with yourself for figuring out his identity so quickly. Unfortunately, you’re much less pleased with him for messing with you. You’re not mad that he didn’t tell you his vigilante identity; you’ve known each other about a month, which is nothing in the grand span of a lifetime. You’re not a pessimist, but you are realistic, and you’re not sure if your relationship is going to work out yet after a week and a half of dating. Any disgruntled ex-girlfriend could reveal his secret identity to the press—not that you’re that type of person.

No, it’s smart to be cautious with his identity.

So wearing a costume that displays one of his most unique features isn’t the brightest.

Also, now that you think about it, Jason wandered into the library the day after the Red Hood walked you home.

So you’re not exactly worried, but you are a bit cautious. You’ve seen that Netflix show You, where that perfectly charming man kills every woman he’s in a relationship with. If it came down to that, you wouldn’t be able to beat Jason in a fight.

Also, you don’t want to fight in front of the cat.

With a click and a hiss, the mask—more a muzzle—comes off, and there appears your handsome boyfriend, a little disheveled and sweaty from the five-story climb to your window after stowing his bike. He’s still beautiful, and it’s such a shame. He could have been the one, had he not stalked and lied to you.

You think.

You’re going to find out.

Jason’s eyes dart to your dominant hand, which is hidden behind your back with your trusty pepper spray ready to go at the slightest sign of aggression. “I take it I’m in trouble,” he says, light, almost joking, and bends to pick your cat up. The little bastard squirms every time you do that, but he settles right down in Jason's arms and gets to purring.

“Jason—” You start, then falter, because you don’t actually know his last name. Or his middle. “Jason,” you say again through gritted teeth, trying to make it as menacing as possible. “I think we have something to talk about, don’t you?”

“Y/N,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Yes, I am the Red Hood. I couldn’t tell you bec—”

“I don’t give a shit that you’re the Red Hood,” you interrupt.

Jason’s mouth clicks shut. He gives you an odd look.

“Well, that you didn’t tell me,” you amend. “We’ve known each other a month. It would be pretty pathetic if you couldn’t keep the secret that long. Everyone in the city would know by now.”

“Okay,” he says slowly. “So what are you mad about, exactly?”

“That I was right!” You exclaim. “You were stalking me! I thought you just liked coffee and reading, but you were following me the whole time. You even offered to beat yourself up. What else about you is a lie?”

“Okay, whoa,” he says, holding his hand up, and if you weren’t mad before, you’re getting there now. He has no right for you to motion to calm down. “Okay, I’ll admit it. I guess I kind of did start this all out by following you.”

Your hands fall limply to your sides. Now that he’s admitted it, all the wind is out of your sails. You’ve never been so disappointed to be right. Secretly, you were hoping he would write it all off as a freak coincidence so thoroughly that you’d have no choice to believe it, all the way up until he strangled you. “Okay,” you say calmly. You hear your own voice, but it’s from very far away. “Are you going to hurt me now?”

“What?” He looks aghast at the very thought. “No, no, I won’t—why would I—No.” He’s so firm in the reply, so utterly certain, that your grip loosens on the pepper spray. He might be a really good liar… or he might be telling the truth. “No, Y/N, I really like you, which is why I asked you out, and even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t hurt you anyway because you’re my friend. And you’re a good person. The Red Hood punishes criminals; he’s not some crazy serial killer.”

“I mean, you kind of are,” you mumble. You’ve seen the statistics. He ruled through fear for several years. But, like he’d said earlier, he’s reformed himself. He still kills people, though, but you find that it doesn’t bother you as much as it should.

“I am not—” Jason stresses, looking you right in the eyes— “the kind of man that hits women.”

There’s a story there, in the way he says it, but it’s not the time to ask. You’re not sure that your fledging relationship is ready for it, either, but you’re still curious. You’re also curious about why he killed so many people when he started out. You’re curious about everything about him. You think you could listen to him talk for hours about himself and you still would only touch the surface of everything that makes up Jason.

“Okay,” you say. His eyes track your hand as you set the pepper spray down on the counter.

He repeats it like a question. You’re a little surprised, too, but— “Jason, I wouldn’t have agreed to be your girlfriend if I wasn’t sure that you’re a good person. But I need you to tell me about how we met.”

“You mean the robbery?” He looks confused. “That really was just a coincidence. I heard that something was going down and stopped by. I had no idea who you were before that night, I swear.”

“Okay. So why did you follow me to the library?”

“Oh.” Jason coughs. “Yeah. Okay, well, the first day, I actually was following you.”

You slap the counter with an open palm, triumphant. Your cat hisses at the sound. "I knew it!"

"Wait, wait, just hear me out. I was following you to make sure that you didn't die of blood loss. Or sepsis. Or gangrene. Or—"

"So you were stalking me... because you cared?"

"It's how my family shows love," he shrugs.

Your eyes widen. Because you hadn't considered it, but if he's a Bat—and he is, judging by the red shape on his chest—then his family is the Batclan. "Oh, my God. Batman is your dad."

Jason folds his arms over his chest like he's self-conscious about the symbol. "Yeah, and I've got the weird attachment style to show for it."

"Wait," you blurt out. "The brother you were supposed to meet in the coffee shop—were you supposed to meet Red Robin?"

"Um..."

You can't believe you were almost in the same place as the actual Red Robin. "Wow. Is his civilian identity as cool as his superhero one?"

"Please don't tell me you're a Red Robin fan," Jason says, his voice pained. "We might actually need to break up."

"Do you think I could meet him sometime?" you whisper.

"He's a huge loser," Jason tells you. "He's short and scrawny and actually pretty ugly beneath the mask. He looks like a troll. Also, I think he watches Andrew Tate videos and moderates Reddit forums in his free time. You really don't want to meet him."

You can't stop grinning. "There's no need to be jealous, Jason. Red Robin's way too young for me, but I think it's cool that he uses his brain to fight crime."

"What, and I don't?" he scoffs.

"Okay." You hold up a hand, determined to get the conversation back on track. "So you wanted to make sure that I wasn't actively dying. Why'd you keep coming back?"

"Well, then I thought you might be a supervillain," he said casually, like that's a normal thing to spring on someone.

You just gape at him.

"You treated a gunshot wound like it was nothing!" he defended himself shrilly. "Most civilians would be a little more concerned about an open wound in their side."

"I'm a medical student. Doctors make the worst patients."

"Yeah, well, Gotham has a pretty bad track record of doctors becoming supervillains, so excuse me for trying to curb a new one before she had the chance to turn."

You cross your arms. "What did you think would happen, Jason? I'd accidentally take a dip in Gotham River and the bacteria in there would travel from my side to my brain and make me go crazy?"

"I mean, yeah. That's pretty much exactly what happened with Harley Quinn."

Well, shit. He's got you there.

"Okay, well then why approach me at the coffee shop?"

Jason raises his eyebrow. "You were the only one there and I had a spare coffee. Am I not allowed to do nice things?"

"It was right after I told the Red Hood that I thought I was getting stalked. Did you do that on purpose?" you accuse.

"No, I swear. I didn't even know that you liked that place. Red Robin mentioned liking it.” Oh, my God, you and Red Robin like the same coffee shop. “I just… kept showing up after I saw you there the first time." He must be scratching your cat too hard, because he wiggles out of Jason's arms and runs over to his food bowl, looking at you pleadingly like he's been starving for a hundred years, even though your roommate texted you earlier saying that he'd already fed him. "I was planning on disappearing from your life and telling you as Hood that I'd, I don't know, threatened the dude or whatever, but..."

"But what?"

He shrugs. "You're pretty, Y/N. You're smart. And you were funny when I talked to you as Hood. Is it a crime for me to want to make a friend?"

"Just a friend?" You squint at him.

"Yeah. Just a friend." Jason tousles his hair again, and this time you let yourself admire the way the muscles of his shoulders and upper arms flex at the motion. "Believe it or not, I've never been in a relationship before. This wasn't what I was expecting—I never expected anything—but I'm happy. You're happy... aren't you?" He's pleading now, and it tugs on your heartstrings.

You sigh, but take a step closer to him. "Yes, I'm happy, Jason." It's definitely not the most conventional way to start a relationship, and most other people would be running for the hills by now, but this is Gotham. You moved here and stayed here because you fit in with the crazy. "I just need you to tell me one thing." Step. "One honest thing."

"Of course," he says immediately. Big green eyes pleading for you to bridge the gap between your bodies, to forgive him.

"What's your last name? I can't date someone whose last name I don't know."

For some reason, he grimaces. "Uh... my full name is Jason... Peter... Todd." His voice gets quieter with every word, until you're straining to hear his surname.

That rings familiar with something in your memory. You frown. "Jason Todd... not like Jason Todd Memorial Library?" Usually with memorials, the person they're named after is dead, but Jason's real and in front of you. Also, wasn't Jason Todd the kid that Bruce Wayne adopted several years ago?

The corners of Jason's lips turn down. "Yeah, I wasn't thrilled with your choice of study locations at first. But it is quieter than my apartment. B adopted too many fuckin' kids, and they always find my place, even when I move—"

"Does Red Robin hang out at your apartment a lot?" you ask, just to see him scowl.

"No, he's never there, and I'm going to dropkick him off a roof the next time I see him unless you stop talking about him."

"Okay," you say. You're close enough now to put a hand on his forearm, so you do. "I'll stop talking." You have to get on your tiptoes and pull the back of his head a bit, but you kiss him, and somehow it's even better than the first time.

Jason's lips are a little dry, but not chapped, soft and pillowy. He blinks when you rest back on your heels, looking dazed like someone hit him over the head with a frying pan. "Am I forgiven now?"

"Mmm..." You pretend to think it over. His hands snake around your back and pull you flush against him, stomach to stomach. "I think so," you say through a gasp, which might be embarrassing if he didn't bend to kiss you before the words had fully left your lips.

You kiss for a little while after that, shivering when his hands slip beneath your jacket. Not quite up your shirt, but getting there. He's got huge hands, and he grips your waist firmly, using his thumbs to gently rub at your hipbones as he pulls you even closer. That small contact, so gentle yet also a little greedy, heats your body from the inside like an inferno.

You're starting to bend backwards now, and the hand on the back of his neck is less there to pull him down and more there to keep you up. Are you lightheaded? You might be. You breathe in through your nose, but it doesn't help.

Jason may be inexperienced, according to his own testimony, but he doesn't kiss like it. He kisses with his whole body. He keeps leaning forward, moving his lips against yours with the single-minded intensity that took you by pleasant surprise the first time you kissed. Soft but firm, pressing against you, in a way that makes you think he'd really like to crowd you against a wall and cage you in. Not that you want to escape.

When you're bent over, you take Jason's chin in your hand and slowly push his head back. He resists at first, eyes fluttering as he chases after your lips, but you're about to fall over, so you murmur, "What's the plan here, babe?"

"No plan," he says, voice low and gravely in a way you've never heard before. Jason looks at you from beneath his long lashes. A heat flashes in his eyes. Something flutters in your stomach, bigger than butterflies. Maybe birds? Maybe robins.

And then you feel his hands on the bare skin of your back when they slip beneath the hem of your shirt. You gasp and jerk away on instinct because his hands are so warm, so calloused, but he's got a good grip on you; you're not falling anytime soon.

Then your entire world shifts as Jason yanks you upright, at the same time pulling the hem of your jacket and shirt up enough so he can see your wound.

"Oh, my God," you groan, embarrassed and a little amused. "You little pervert, were you doing all that to distract me?"

"No." Jason's voice is still gravely. He looks at your hip, then stares at your mouth like he's making a decision. He kisses you again, a firm press, and nips at your bottom lip before he leans back to squint at the scar. "Is it still bruised?"

"Yes," you sigh, covering your eyes. You're embarrassed for reasons you can't quite explain. Maybe because he's pulling your shirt up and you're not quite as firm everywhere as he is. You're pretty sure champion bodybuilders aren't as firm as he is. "It's gotten much better, though. See? No infections or anything like that."

He measures the scar against his hand: it's about two fingers wide, and one finger long. It scabbed over a while ago, and now that the scab's gone, it's just a shiny pink patch of skin.

"You could have stitched it anyway," he sighs.

"I don't care." You grab him by the chin and force him to meet your eyes. "I don't care about scars. Mine or yours. Most of the time, they're sexy. And apart from me, you're the only one seeing it." His hands clench your waist at the words, then loosen. He sends you an apologetic look. You continue, "So as long as you don't mind it, then nobody does."

"I wish it had never happened to you," he sighs.

"Well, it did. But it wasn't your fault and we can't change the past."

Jason's still mulling over your words when you start to work at his belt. He makes a choked noise and grabs your hands. Doesn't push them away, just holds them still right where they are. "What are you doing?"

"Well, I showed you mine." You grin up at him. "It's only fair that you show me yours."

He snorts. "You don't trust your own handiwork?"

"It's a follow-up appointment," you say. "To make sure everything's healing normally. Now take off your shirt, Mr. Todd. This veterinarian's apartment does, after all, moonlight as a strip club."

He undoes his belt buckle with one hand, and you have to make sure that your mouth isn't open. That was probably the hottest thing you've ever seen in your life. "You ready?" he grins, cocky in the way he only gets when he's flirting with you. "One look at me and you'll forget all about Red Robin. Forever."

"God, don't bring up your little brother while we're making out," you groan.

"Good to know that you plan on kissing me some more tonight," he says casually. Then he peels off the skintight gray shirt, and every thought wipes from your mind.

His muscles have muscles. And, somehow, despite your apartment's shitty lighting, he's glowing. His pants sit low on his hips like he's a model or something.

How has no one ever dated him before? He's actually perfect.

The longer you stare without saying anything, the more uncomfortable he looks. Finally he says, "I know I've got a lotta scars," his native Gotham accent bleeding through a little, but you stop him with a hand on his chest. He's warm and firm and soft, just like you thought he would be.

"My God," you whisper. "You're beautiful."

Jason goes beet red.

"And the one I stitched is healing up nicely," you continue, tracing your fingers lightly over the slightly raised line.

His whole body shudders. He swallows almost violently, eyes clenched tight like they're in pain. Then they fly open, and you gasp, because they're glowing green. Not metaphorically glowing. Like, actually glowing.

Jason kisses you again like he's trying to herd you. You don't know where's all right for you to touch, so you cup his face with both your hands and pour everything that he gives you right back at him. Warmth, affection, something bright that you can't name.

Then you lean back. Your lips disconnect with an audible pop.

"Hang on. Is Bruce Wayne Batman?"

Jason's chin drops down to his chest. He groans, deep, and you pretend that warmth doesn't pool in your stomach at the sound. Voice thready, he says, "You know, talking about my dad really kills the mood."

"Oh, my God, he is." You pump your fist in the air. "I'm two for two. Who's the world's greatest detective now, Batsy?"

"If I kiss you again, will you shut up about Batman?" Jason asks.

You grin. "I don't know. Maybe you'll have to find out."

He does.

And you do.

You've decided that the Red Hood is your favorite superhero, anyway.

~~

Forever taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit  @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

DC taglist:

@evalynanne @mismatchsposts

[physics-of-one-piece]

The One Piece World Timezones [Fixed]

Okay, so I did a big WHOOPS. I thought the Grand Line is the equator. Someone in the notes pointed out that no, the Grand Line is not the equator and honestly, yeah, my fault for not going a bit deeper into my research.

Here is how the globe is and how the Grand Line goes. The blue thingy is I suspect the actual equator.

The reasons I thought the Grand Line is on the equator is:

1) weather

2) natural occurences

3) map on the One Piece Wiki

Crazy shit happens in the equator in our world.

Here is how the Grand Line is positioned as told by Law.

(source)

Now, let's fix the mistake. (Sighs)

And... ROTATE THE MAP.

Here it is. I sighed many sighs while rotating this and maybe I cried a bit at getting everything 3 hours wrong and then cried some more that Dressrosa & Hawaii aren't in the same timezone bcs goddamn it, that fit, as did Mariejois.

But FINE. I'm doing this for all the Doffy x Reader writers, all the One Piece x Reader writers, all the One Piece fanfic writers, full stop. I REFUSE TO ALLOW MY MISTAKE TO BE A CURSE. I'll also edit the OG post and put this pic there so both posts have the correct one.

Okay, one more time, 100% correct this time:

Paradise:

Reverse Mountain [UTC -1]

Cape Valley [UTC 0]

Cactus Island [UTC 0]

Little Garden [UTC +1]

Drum Island [UTC +2]

Alabasta [UTC +3]

Island where Luffy Kicked Bellamy's Ass Vol 1 Jaya [UTC+4]

Skypiea [UTC +4]

The Arc I Skipped After Seeing It Became Filler Ring Long Island [UTC +5]

Water 7 [UTC +5]

I'm so sorry, Snail 😭

Ennies Lobby [UTC +6]

Florian Triangle [UTC +6]

Sabaody Archipelago [UTC +7]

Amazon Lily [UTC +7]

Impel Down [UTC +8]

Marineford [UTC +8]

Holy Land of Mariejois [UTC+8]

All the thematic representation of it being UTC +12, splash into the water 😭😭😭

Fishman Island [UTC +9]

New World:

New Marineford [UTC -8]

Punk Hazard [UTC -8]

Dressrosa [UTC -7]

Totto Land [UTC -5]

Wano [UTC -4]

Law vs Blackbeard Island [UTC -3]

Elbaf [UTC -3]

Weird that it's Elbaf that's Northeast, since shouldn't Law have gone there as his route? Maybe Kid lied and went there still after Law said Northeast is the quickest path, while Law took a detour onto Winner Island to fight Blackbeard.

Hachinosu (Pirate Island, Blackbeard's HQ) [UTC -3]

Egghead [UTC -3]

Even though Egghead's not shown on the map, Luffy went directly south from Wano, and by the line, the Sunny would have entered the UTC -3 zone.

Lodestar Island [UTC -2]

Calculating Guide:

From East to West

- if it's 17:00 (5 pm) in Marineford (UTC +8) and you want to know what time it is in Dressrosa, this is what you do:

1) (Current time in Marineford) - (UTC time number of Marineford) which is

17 (5pm) - 8 = 9 am (UTC 0)

2) now that you have UTC 0, you put another minus, this one from Dressrosa's UTC, which is UTC -7, so it goes

9 am - 7 = 2 am

So it's 2 am in Dressrosa, while it's 5 pm in Marineford!

From West to East

Say it's 22:00 (10 pm) on Saturday in Dressrosa, what time is it in Holy Land? Here are the steps.

1) (Dressrosa current time) + (Dressrosa's Timezone Number) = time at UTC 0

So that's:

10 pm + 7 = 5 am Sunday (UTC 0)

2) UTC 0 time + Holy Land Time Number

So: 5 am + 8 = 13:00 (1 pm) Sunday

So while it's 10 pm Saturday in Dressrosa and Doflamingo is conducting business with the Paradise part of the Grand Line, in the Holy Land, the ugly Celestials are eating lunch on Sunday or napping bcs they are freeloading cu- (censored) unlike Doflamingo who's actually working!

(looks at the maps of my previous timezone post) Okay. It's fine. I only missed Dressrosa by 3 hours. IT'S FINE.

(it's not fine, I'm crying, it's not FINE, my favourite island and I couldn't even get it right the first time, if Doffy turns me into a toy I deserve it)

I'll go climb the Red Line and jump off it. This is the greatest shame as a scientist. Wrong numbers.

A/N: Of course, if what the pic above said is true, it might as well could be that the original tinezone map I made is semi- correct and the entire territory up until Wano has a timezone from UTC -12 to UTC -9 if it's only the first third of the New World, as those are the "thirds" of the west timezones. I don't read the manga, but I'm caught up with the anime and if the manga does reveal a map, actual map like that curved one in the picture with Law or Oda finally makes one, I give the manga readers full permission to send it to me in an ask and I will update the posts again. For now, this is the most "official" map we have, and the most recent one. Also, the Grand Line being in the shape of a rollercoaster is fitting, haha.

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @moonbaby26

[oceansprompts]

text message prompts

[text] You okay?

[text] GO TO BED!

[text] hey you better be alive in there

[text] SOS save me please holy shit

[text] call me this date is going so bad

[text] I have way too much shit to do.

[text] Honestly I'm really worried about you.

[text] Why are you trending on Twitter?

[text] Please let me come over and pet your (pet).

[text] We are in the same building, you could come talk to me.

[text] It's not going to work out.

[text] This is a terrible idea.

[text] people have fetishes

[text] They really do crucify anyone these days huh

[text] I don't know why but that really means me want to stab you

[text] That movie was awful.

[text] For the love of god please help me

[text] I fucked up. I fucked up really bad.

[text] I'm blocking you.

[text] YOU ONE BRAINCELLED BITCH

[text] I regret swiping right.

[text] Everyone lies on their dating profiles.

[text] That absolutely can't be an actual picture of you.

[text] This forced open my third eye and I saw the devil

[text] I'm like a child in line for the newest fucked up disney ride

-

[text] That's just all fucking sorts of fucked up

[text] Why are we here? To suffer? Every other day I get messages that cause pain

[text] In the department of old man fucking, we've got you beat.

[text] have you gotten any work done?

[text] I am beyond shame, try again

[text] You left your left your underwear at my place.

[text] Don't you dare put this on Facebook.

[text] My brother in Christ you're being haunted

[text] I want to wring you like a wet towel and slap you against a wall

[text] The mind is weak but the body is funky

[text] I'm a zombie the law can't stop me.

[text] Jealous of my massive honkers

[text] We left you to die to play minecraft

[text] She would never ever take away one of these stupid fucking hats

[text] I puked all over the Uber driver's backseat.

[text] I just took a screenshot of that and posted it to Reddit

[text] You said you'd be right back and it's been months.

[text] Can't we talk about this face to face?

[text] Yeah, you'll come learn I just have a thing for milk

[text] Why did you like one of my pics from 2014?

[text] Now's as good a time as any to exchange nudes.

[text] Why would you send me an eggplant emoji?

[text] I write five paragraphs, pouring my heart out, and all you reply with is k?!

[text] Who would dare to lie on the internet?

[text] When I die, please delete all my shit off the internet

[text] He's so hot, I briefly started texting like a straight person

[text] And because I'm god and I've decided that; no, in fact, I'm not done.

-

[text] I know you love bloopy reggae jams, now is not the time.

[text] You better not be standing catatonic in your room again.

[text] God has abandoned his children but unfortunately for you I pay child support and I will smite thee.

[text]: My neighbor just told me he can fix my water heater for 50 bucks. I’m skeptical.

[text]: Do you have any idea how much it costs to buy apples? I paid 10 dollars for 6.

[text]: I mean, I wouldn’t say I have a problem with buying Squishmallows..

[text]: Hey, so you know how you told me no dog? *sends pic* I don’t do well with no’s.

[text] Stuart Little is a bitch and Remy could take him any day.

[text]: My roommate just said that Lola Bunny is hot. I’m moving out.

[text]: Hey I posted that vid of you drunk, singing Ariana Grande, wearing all black and people said not to do it again. Sorry.

[text]: Do you think the price is ever right? Like, I feel like it’s not.

[text]: I booped your nose. Boop the last five people you texted or–nothing happens really.

[text]: I’m actually in the ER and it’s a long story that involves Best Day Ever from spongebob.

[text]: I fucking hate you–wait you’re not my ex. Who are you?

[text]: You ever ask yourself if birds see a bee and just go ‘wow a bee’? im high.

[text]: sometimes all i think about is–sour patch kids. bet you thought it was you.

[text]: I love you—not as much as I love my dog. But still a lot!

[text]: I found a cat on the way home and now it’s mine. But it hates my guts so this should be fun.

[text]: I have questions about the marvel cinematic universe…how long do you have?

[text]: why do donald duck and winnie the pooh not have to wear pants but other people do?

[text]: Hey you know that show floor is lava? I may have turned the apartment into that..this isn’t a joke, btw. the floor is sticky.

[text]: I bought too much soap off etsy and now I don’t know what to do with it…I smell like Captain America.

[text]: On a scale of one to ten, how many drinks would you need to sleep with me? This isn’t a tiktok trend…or it is.

[writingstoraes]

Hi lovely i absolutely adore your work! Could i please request a charles x actress!reader fic where charles hard launches their relationship after someone flirts with reader? (i hope this makes sense 😭😭) thank you!!🩷🩷

all mine 🪩

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!actress!reader

type: instagram imagine, social media au

notes: tysm for requesting this, anon! i hope you like this hehe fc is hailee steinfeld! and yes ur request makes sense <3 lmk what u guys think!

about: during your first paddock appearance, charles gets wind of someone else being a little too friendly with you.

yourusername

liked by zendaya, florence_pugh, brielarson, and 2,998,221 others

yourusername Finally watching my favorite sport live! Props to the F1 paddock club for the banging champagne 🥂

f1thusiast crazy publicity for the team she's going to be supporting

forzacharles didn't she say shes a merc and ferrari fan? ynoscars Yeah but she's apparently visiting different teams and not just those two

ynlover ATE EVERYONE UP! HAVE FUN QUEEN

spiderverses the main attraction everyone's talking about her

ferrariyn Y/N twt in flames there's too many content so much people are trying to interview her 😭

mercedesamgf1 Thank you for the visit, Y/N! We loved showing you around 🤍

scuderiaferrari Looking forward to your garage tour here at Ferrari ❤️

leclercsyn give me a y/n and charles interaction and then ill forgive you guys for all your slip ups

yourusername added to her instagram story!

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, pierregasly, ynfanbase, and 1,452,009 others

charles_leclerc My love's first grand prix and paddock appearance today and I couldn't be happier. To my biggest fan, best believe I'd never miss a chance to brag about you — and I'm over the moon that I get to start today.

Almost two years together and I'd honestly say that seeing you in the paddock has been something I've been looking forward to ever since. Je t'aime, à l'écran et dans la vraie vie, que tu sois à côté de moi ou loin. I love you, on-screen and in real life, whether you're beside me or far away.

carlossainz55 I knew you'd skip the soft launch and do it your way 🤣

pierregasly I will send you that clip every day lol

mercrbr THIS IS SO FUNNY

yourusername What a shame you weren't at the garage when I toured it 😣

charles_leclerc We'll visit it again later :)

scuderiaferrari Love is in the air indeed! ❤️

landonorris Bro don't be mad but she visited us earlier... afraid you'll quote me on Twitter too 🤣

forzasainzz they will never live this down lmao

yourusername

liked by arthurleclerc, scuderiaferrari, zendaya, and 3,001,221 others

yourusername P1 today! Was on the edge of my seat the whole time, but my faith on you never wavered. Truly the happiest when I watch you in your element 🏎️ Couldn't resist not taking the first picture when you showed up on screen.

Love you to bits, my world champ :) Cat's outta the bag now I guess, no more hiding how crazy I am for this man in red (lol)

zendaya Finally!

leclercsyn this is like a dream come true for me

charlieferrari QUEEN SUPPORTING THE KING THATS RIGHT

landonorris Charles just can't stop smiling

charles_leclerc ... Get out

taystan power couple! we love to see it ❤️

---------

tagging: @slytherheign, @honethatty12, @siovhanroy

notes: lmk if anyone wants to be a part of my taglist! as usual this took surprisingly long for me to make lolol requests for charles are open <3 lmk what u guys think!

[carolmunson]

blood machine.

emperor geta x senator's daughter!reader songspiration: in keeping secrets of the silent earth 3 | coheed & cambria

did not once plan to write for this guy but here we are. also like, is it historically accurate? no. like, not even a little. (hell is mentioned and technically hell wasn't 'a place' until 400 BC but like WHATEVER.) am i making a semi effort? sorta kinda. have i been a little stoned every time i've worked on this? well, yes.

summary: when what was supposed to be a diplomatic dinner before a much bigger and lively feast becomes a marriage offer, all of the wine you drank turns to ash in your mouth. haters to haters, bay-bee. tw: 18+, drinking but like -- idk it's ancient rome, tension, fighting, some mild body shaming (??), a literal threat of domestic violence but again it's ancient rome so like i don't think they cared, two stupid little bitches who hate each other. mentions of war and ultimate distaste for the poor. reader kind of has lady macbeth vibes. my little evil queen.

Wine is poured, golden chalices exalted. You are a vision and he is a toad looking creature of a man that only his mother could love. Not quite his brother, never quite measuring up the same way -- always trying to puff his chest. It was easy to tease him, ego easy to bruise -- little brother. You’d spent time in your childhood tagging along with your brother and the other kids to taunt him, pathetic and whimpering. 'Tale teller!' you'd jeer, every time he'd run off to his mother to blubber over how mean you all were. And you were mean.

But people grow, as they do. And so did you -- still mean, but in a different way. Listening to meetings, reading maps, keeping tabs on new republics, on potential uprising. The poor -- the fucking poor. Finding new ways to keep them occupied so that they'd stop trying to find ways to be powerful. Powerful like you. Powerful like the man at the head of the table with a plum to his lips. And as it has been said, a man in possession of a good fortune and power, must be in need of a wife. It became clear when you arrived that this was not a business dinner before a grand feast, your parents simply forgot to mention what this was really about. Your best linens, your hair coiffed, your best jewelry, you should have known it had been a ruse the moment you got there. His home on Palatine just sparkling the way the gold on your fingers did, candles in the halls and stairways glittering when they hit the rubies and pearls on your chest and ears. When your father veers the conversation from politics and business to marriage you both choke, stern eyes glued to your mother's painted face. A business dinner where you are currency -- more than worthy. Just a few months shy of being eligible when Caracalla was, regrettably, forced to marry Flavia at the last moment. It would've been nice to have the gang together again in some capacity. Could've bullied the toad to assasinating himself if you were lucky enough. Total power. Complete upheaval. The more you thought about it, the more of it your craved. The pit in your stomach grew, if it wasn't with his brother -- even though you bore no attraction -- there was not a point at all. Geta didn't think nearly as critically, didn't hit hard enough, didn't strategize correctly. You'd never even seen him pick up a sword -- but then again, that made sense. You very rarely spent time in his palace, much prefering the festivities of Caracalla's close by.

You listen while your mother goes on and on about his grace, tongue dipped in honey while she blabbers. She mentions how handsome he is, his valiance in leadership, how honorable he's become as he's taken the place of his late father -- you can't help yourself but laugh. The giggle echos and bounces through the high ceilings, floating against the archways, getting caught in the drapery by the open hall. His eyes flick to you over his goblet, catching in the candle light, an aggravated sneer plaguing his face. He looks like a pig when he does that, you think to yourself.

You know that business, for the most part, is a man's game. But it does not deter you from doing your best to try and wager yourself out of this. Ideas drip into your mind while the drone of the conversation turns to fuzz in the background. How can you sell that this is a bad idea? It will bring less publicity, less of a threat, less resposibility if married to someone with equal nobility. Certainly not an emperor. Especially not one like this. So petulant, so competitive, so eager for a war he does not know how to plan, so temperamental, so weak, so conniving, so consumed with the colosseum that he doesn't think of what should be done around him. It's his voice that brings you back to attention.

"And why is it she hasn't been taken for a wife then, at this age?" he asks, brow quirking in your direction. You let out of huff of offense while he sips his wine, metal clinking as he places it back down. A smirk flits across his features at the remark, "Is something wrong with her?"

Your father, sweating with embarrassment, looks over at you and back at the emperor, "Well she, she's of course beautiful." Geta winces, cocking his head to the side with a shrug. Your father sighs, desperate to try to find a better angle, "She um, she -- she has great wits, Ceasar, unmatched. She knows her duties as a wife, but -- a great thinker. She could -- she could be helpful!" "Wits," he mumbles sourly under his breath before leaning back leisurely in his chair, "Great thinker? Very surprising." "August--" your father starts. "Co--" you correct over a sip of wine, "Co-Augustus."

Geta tosses you another sour look, tongue running over his teeth before clicking it behind his lips. You shrug while swallowing. "Semantics, Publius," you wave a hand at him. A hush falls over the room as his gaze snaps up at you, blanching at the disrespect of being called by his first name. Your mother hides her face in her napkin with a groan. Your father leans his temple against his fingers, eyes closed in frustration. "Mind how you address me," Geta corrects with a stern pull to his lips, eyes glittering with rage. Your eyes catch over the mountains of food before you, holding your glass out as one of his servants pours you another glass of wine. "Is that not what your mother calls you?" your voice feathery, but certain. A vein begins to raise and pulse in his neck while his shoulders round forward.

"Please apologize, dear," your mother mutters, putting the napkin back on the table, "Tell -- tell the emperor what it would mean, to be -- to be wed to someone of such calibur."

Your eyes stay on his, challenging him while your mother begs you to say something to make amends. Another sip of wine passes your lips, "No, shan't."

Your mother scolds you, your full name escaping her with embarrassment tainting her tongue. Sweat beads at your father's forehead while he changes the subject, doing aything to try to keep his good favor with both sides of the imperatorship.

You grin into your goblet at the sight of Geta's face -- reddened with anger and frustration at the brazen disrespect. But it was fine to continue to be an enemy if it meant you would leave these regal walls and never have to step foot in them again. And if you did, it would be as another senator's wife, visiting his brother in another house where you'll laugh and drink wine and cheer when he's killed.

Even his posture is revolting, hunched over while he listens to your father speak. Now going on and on about paper work that doesn't interest you if it doesn't have a say on who is next on the list to conquer. Your eyes glaze over in boredom while pomergranate, honey pudding, and dates are placed on the table. Rose wine replaces the red to sweeten the tongue -- you're sure your parents wished it were true.

It's not very long after dessert is served that your parents start again.

"As you know, she does come from a family of very fertile women," your father encourages. You quickly swallow the bite of date you'd taken to interrupt, nearly choking, "Excuse me, I'm not sure this is appropriate dinner conversation."

Geta looks at you while you speak, scanning you and then lingering on the dessert in your hand, "Her hips are quite sizeable -- big enough to bear multiple childen, that's certain. Is that her only sell?"

Anger bubbles under your chest, but warning looks from both of your parents keeps your sharp tongue between your lips. The grip on your goblet tightens, jaw clenching while your pass another sip through gritted teeth. You let a seething breath out through your nose. "As I tried to explain before," your father continues, "She is very on the pulse in terms of the political climate and, and, and great with strategy." "I'm not looking for a wife who tries to strategize for me--" he responds coolly. "From how the empire has not expanded since your father's death I would guess that perhaps you should be," you snap back smartly. His posture straightens, chains and medallions across his chest glinting in the candle light. The room quiets itself again, only the sound of untensils and cups being put down or collected filling the dead air. The soft scrape of metal, the rustle of linens while servants and guards alike avert their gaze downward.

"Leave us," he states, voice pungent with authority. You stretch your neck on both sides while the servants depart, already bored with the back and forth. Already moved on from the eventual scolding and potential exile that won't get put into motion because you are simply too friendly with the rest of the upcoming generals and politicians. One rogue idiot who barely has the power his brother has, that his father never trained into him, could not dole a punishment that is worth your genuine fear.

You sigh, hearing the staff make their way down the long stone corridors into the grand halls to prepare for a more formal party with other higher status families. More likely a collection of offerings for him to choose from, other parents trying to arrange a marriage with the empire's most powerful and eligible bachelor. It would be one of the few times the brothers would have to engage with each other, which you're sure put Geta more on edge than normal.

"Senator, please take your wife to the grand hall to be seated," he commands, his voice lower, delving darker. The vein in his neck continues to pulse, forearms straining against the golden cuffs over his wrists, "The guards will accompany you."

You watch as your parents rise, bowing their heads before following the guards out of the room and through the blood red drapery hung from gilded valances. Geta's eyes stay hardened on you, and yours him, while you rise as well, taking a few steps around the large wooden table toward the exit. "Not you," he says, not turning to face you, "You will stay." "It is not appropriate for me to be unaccopanied in the pres--" "Do not speak," he huffs, hand coming up to silence you, "Your voice grates on me." "Then you can imagine what your own voice does, Augustus," you say without thinking, letting the insults flow out of you like the fountain water in the courtyards. He pushes away from the table, steadily walking towards you with enough vigor that the bottom of his cape starts to billow behind him. On his way, he pulls a sword from a guard's holster, dragging it so the tip grinds against the stone, making your jaw clench at the shrill sound.

"What happens to those who speak against me?" he asks, steps clicking against the floor from the studs on the bottom of his sandals. He begins to stalk around you, circling while he waits for an answer. "Execution," you respond, keeping your eyes on the drapery just twenty feet ahead of you. "What else?" he asks, you can feel his breath behind you, the whining grind of the sword against the stone making your shoulders tense. "Exile," you answer, a laugh bubbling out of you, "But I can't imagine your brother agreeing to either of those. You'd really banish me, Publius? Because I was a little mean to you?" When he appears in front of you again, your lips stretch into a sickeningly sweet smile, sarcasm staining your tone, "But we're such old friends."

He cocks his head to the side, taking a step closer with the sword between you, "Oh, I wouldn't do that to you."

He leans forward, enough that you can smell the rose wine on his breath. His voice quiet and menacing, "Though -- it could be that the senator said something to offend me tonight at dinner. It could be that perhaps he -- spoke poorly of my dear brother or my late father. Something just dastardly enough to sour my brother's respect for him." "And you expect Caracalla to believe that?" "In what way does it benefit me to lie about it?" he challenges, "And even more so -- with your father exiled, where does that leave you?"

You swallow thickly, not giving him the satisfaction of replying while your look into his now wild brown eyes. Flashing with mania and endless possibility.

"A peasant," he spits.

"If it keeps me out of these halls I should be lucky, no?" you fire back, looking at him from under furrow brows. He continues to circle you, dragging the sword again. The click, click, click of his shoes keeping time in your head. "I'm sure my brother would be happy to keep you as a pet in the meantime," he laughs to himself, "Or we could put you in the colosseum, you think you'd fare well?" "Better than you could, that's certain," you cross your arms over your chest, "Could never stand up and fight like a man, even as a kid. Your father would be embarrassed."

The grinding gets louder as he presses harder down, causing small sparks to fly from the edge of the sword.

"If you were to be chosen, would ever even attempt to learn respect?" he asks sharply, "Or would it have to be beaten into you?" You snort, "At least you're the funnier brother, you have that going for you." You can see him out of your periphery, the way he pulls his cheeks in, the roll of his shoulders -- he's losing patience. "What, would you prefer I called you Geta? Augustus? Ceasar?" your eyes roll. A soft cackle comes from his through, canines showing in a gleeful smile, "No, no -- from you? I'd much prefer something more respectful." Click, click, click. The grind of the sword. The rose on his breath. "Dominus," he nods with the threat, "Dominus et Deus."

"You disgust me," you respond quickly. "As a husband and as emperor is that not my title, already?" he shrugs, looking at you like it's obvious.

"You are nobodies Lord and God, you are a petulant -- sniveling -- repulsive little brother who is only where he is by being lucky to be born," you glower.

"You still see me as a child, femina," he tuts, "I promise you, what ever Caracalla has told you is a tapestry of made up stories. You could hang it on the tallest arch and it would hit the floor ten times over."

"I do see just a whining child before me," you hiss, "I'm sure you'll run to your mother after this, too."

His chuckle turns to a low, dark laugh from deep in his chest. It crawls up your spine and rings in your ears, mixing with the grating 'shhhhhhinnnngggg' of the sword on the ground.

"If it were fate that there was union between us," he asks from behind you, "What would you say to that?"

You look straight ahead, hearing the click of his shoes. The heat of the torches on the walls billowing onto your face while you keep your eyes on the drapery, still closed -- still keeping you here.

"It would be a fate worse than the hottest hell," you confess, your voice not wavering.

The whine of the sword stops, sheathed into his belt. The click of his shoes halts.

Quiet.

Rose wine on his breath, you feel it on your skin now, his chest against your back while he closes the space between you. A hand reaches up to push the hair from your neck, the other gripping the fat of your hip to pull you ruthlessly against him in a thud. Your eyes shut, bile crawling up your throat in disgust. His nose coasts against the shell of your ear, making you tilt your head away while goosebumps rise on your arms. Through a knowing grin he whispers, the words burrowing deep in your chest in loathing and a glimmer of fear: "I pray every moment of it burns you."