#fray flag

[beyond-mogai-pride-flags]

Cupiofray Pride Flag

Cupiofray: being cupio- in a fray- way (or being fray- in a cupio- way), or experiencing a mix of the two, or being in the midway between both fray and cupio.

For example, desiring certain forms of relationship while not feeling attraction, then they feel attraction but loose it after an emotional or deep connection with a person; desiring a specific form of relationship even when they are not attracted anymore in the attraction associated with the type of relationship.

It includes mesi/grey areas, depending on the perspectives it could be allospec, aspec, pomospec, quoispec, etc. or simply cupiospec.

#cupiospec #frayspec #fray flag #fraysexual #cupiosexual #cupiromantic #cupioromantic #kalosromantic #kalossexual #frayromantic #mod ap #edited flags #eflags #flag edit #liom pride #pomo #grayspec #greyspec

[ryanyflags]

Fraytorenflexible flag? Being predominantly fray-toren but flexible it's identity and/or attraction

Here's a flag for fraytorenflexible (plus just a fraytoren flag, since I didn't any flags for it).

It’s a combination of the original flags colors. The light green/blue stripe is a mix of the light blue from fray and green from toren, with the purple just from toren. The top dark blue and bottom grey stripe are from fray.

The stripe of flipped colors in the middle is to represent the flexible part of the label, it’s a design inspired by aceflexible, which I’ve also used in other -flexible flag designs.

This is the fray flag used, and this is the toren flag used.

#fraytorenflexible #fraytoren #fray- #toren- #new term #pride flag #new flag #request

[blue-blaze]

Some Hamefura Fankids I have

Katarina/Maria

Kaleb Claes

Hannah Claes

Alan/Mary

Diana Stuart

Lyra Stuart

Rowan Stuart

Ginger/Fray

Cheryl Randall

Dahlia Randall

Jeffrey/Suzanna

Hayden Stuart

Adalyn Stuart

Gabriel Stuart

Bridget Stuart

Some notes:

Just like Katarina and Alan, Lyra and Kaleb have a friendly rivalry

Inherited Alan's music talent, Lyra plays the violin and likes to duet with him

Diana also has a passion for music and plays the cello

Rowan is a humble boy who just likes gardening

Milidiana really likes Hannah and spoils her a lot

Sophia and Mary like to visit Katarina and Maria often

Still wip with ginger/fray and jeffrey/suzanna fankids with their personality and stuff

#hamefura #my next life as a villainess #otome game no hametsu flag #hamefura fankid #fankids #katarina claes #maria campbell #alan stuart #mary hunt #jeffrey stuart #geoffrey stuart #suzanna randall #ginger tucker #fray randall

[noxwithoutstars]

✧｡:*▹ a4fray and demi4a

PT/ a4fray and demi4a /PT end

IDs/ Two similar flags with nine equal stripes. The left one's colors top to bottom are dark purple, lighter purple, grey-turquoise, turquoise, white, light red, dull red, lighter purple, and dark purple. The right one's colors top to bottom are dark purple, lighter purple, darker yellow-orange, yellow, white, light pink, magenta, lighter purple, and dark purple. /IDs end

ID/ A thin pride divider of the Sanguihunt flag. There are eleven rectangles of color. the colors, from left to right, are pale orange, red, dark red, deep magenta, dark purple, dark teal, dark purple, deep magenta, dark red, red, and pale orange. By @/paintedpastel /ID end

✧ a4fray and demi4a flags (in order)

✧ Requested by anon

ID/ A white DNI with a panel of the manga Oyasumi Punpun with 5 kids doing a joint pose. Words are black on the right side: “DNI: anti- ‘contradictory’ labels, anti-mogai, terf, gatekeeper, anti-decolonization, believes ‘narc abuze’ is real, demonizes ‘scary/evil’ disorders + labels.” /ID end

#a4fray #demi4a #lgbtqia+ #mogai haven #new flag #new term #nox's flags #nox's terms #aspec #fray #demi #liomogai #has id #has pt

[liomdog]

↠ ✦ LITH + FRAY + PAN COMBINATION FLAGS!

For someone in the mogai multiverse discord!

ID: Three flags combining the lith-, fray-, and pan flags. The first two have 10 stripes; the red, orange, and yellow of the lith- flag, the pan flag, and the fray- flag. The third flag has the red and orange of the lith- flag, the pink and yellow of the pan flag, the blue, white, and grey of the fray- flag, and the black of the lith- flag.

#mogai #mogai flag #mogai post #mogai safe #combination flag #pan #lith #fray #🐾 edits #🐾 original

[hazyaltcare]

Color picked romeric and chevron queer pride flags for Simon Lewis and Clary Fray (The Mortal Instruments film: City of Bones), specifically using this image to pick colors from.

Mod Haze (🪛The Doctor(13))

#i know you said to choose one but i wanted to do both 😅 #fictive #the mortal instruments fictive #city of bones fictive #simon lewis fictive #clary fray fictive #color picked flags #chevron queer #romerian #🪛 #mod haze

[honey-makes-mogai]

[Image ID: A MOGAI flag with seven equal horizontal stripes. From top to bottom the colors in order are: red, blue-orange, yellow, white, light gray, gray, dark gray. In the center is the word "Litho-" in large black text. /End ID]

Litho-gender -

A gender related to being Lithosexual, Lithoromantic, etc!

[PT: Litho-gender -]

[Image ID: A MOGAI flag with seven equal horizontal stripes. From top to bottom the colors in order are: blue, blue-teal, teal, white, light gray, gray, dark gray. In the center is the word "Fray-" in large black text. /End ID]

Fray-gender -

A gender related to being Fraysexual, Frayromantic, etc!

[PT: Fray-gender -]

[Banner ID: A pastel yellow banner with a sunflower on either side. In brown text with a white outline, it says "- Please let me know if this has been coined before! -" /End ID.] [DNI transcript: "-DNI- Basic criteria, anti-mogai, proshippers, ableists, aphobes, racists, zoophiles, rpf shippers, fandom discourse, under 13, transid/transx". /End transcript.]

#☕️ flags 🍯 #fray-gender #litho-gender #term: gender #Daily Special {Honey's Pick} #theme: LGBTQIA+ #gender #pro mogai #mogai safe #mogai #mogai community #mogai blog #mogai coining #xenogender #xenogenders #xenogender coining #xenogender community #liom post #pro liom #liom #liom friendly #liom community #liom safe

[mcbannerprideflags]

Frayromantic Flag & Shield

Flag white banner light grey per fess grey chief light blue per fess blue base white fess

Shield light grey banner light blue per fess inverted blue base dexter canton blue base sinister canton grey chief dexter canton grey chief sinister canton

#frayromantic #fray #minecraft pride flags

[love-that-we-were-in]

Let All Your Damage Damage Me

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader Summary: There's something to be said for patching up Camp Half-Blood, especially when you end up seeing more of Luke Castellan than you thought you ever would. Or 3 times Luke starts a fight and 1 time he doesn't. Word Count: 4.6k Warnings: smoking, mentions of low-grade drugs and underage drinking, implied sexual content and more teenage dirtbag luke because @initialchains was kind enough to let me steal him for evil!

a/n: this is the most brainrot i've ever brainrotted and again, all credit for this version of luke to noli. enjoy!!!

There’s this weight that carries the name Luke Castellan across Camp Half-Blood. Once, it was a new camper - years on the run with a young daughter of Athena and a fatality at the borders that drew interest. In the time since, it’s become something different, reshaped and frayed. A promising young demigod lingering on the outskirts where possible, creating his own tethers to the mortal world like it’ll detach itself from him if he doesn’t. 

It confuses new campers at first, the dichotomy between how Luke is spoken of and who he is. The best swordsman in almost three centuries, a once favorite son of Hermes. To look at him then, take in his scuffed shoes and the cigarette tucked behind his ear - it makes them wonder what it took for him to fall so far out of alignment. 

No one ever asks. 

1.

The conch sounds from your left and the rest of your campmates spread out across the land with a battle cry. You know how this evening goes, too many of them spent alone in the quiet of the med-bay. There’s three of you as it stands, all waiting for someone to show up with a cut to tend to as the game gets underway. Will stands outside, eyes wandering over the edges of the forest as if he can see through the trees to what’s happening within them. It’s his first summer, the thrill of camp yet to be lost on him, and you’re glad he can find excitement in being on the sidelines. Lee has already tucked himself into a corner, technically a part of the medical team but mostly waiting to tag into the game. A back-up player. 

You know that within the hour, you’ll likely lose both of them to the game. It’s not something you mind, dealing with the minor injuries alone. There’s an element of peace to it, tending to everyone else’s wounds and sending them on their way. It’s what you’re best at, a healed knife wound last year the reason you were claimed. Still, it makes capture the flag last for eons - every hint of action happening further than you can see, often too far away for you to even register until someone pushes their way through your door in need of help.

So you settle in, let the peace of the evening wash over you. When one of the younger Demeter kids rushes into the room, you observe Will treating the deep cut on her arm. Disinfectant, gauze, a small bandage. When he’s done, he looks at you and you’re all too familiar with it. The longing to be part of the action. At your nod, he takes off, hot on the heels of the young girl and into the thick of battle. 

Eventually one of Clarisse’s siblings bursts into the room, fire in his eyes and you can hardly blink before Lee is standing to attention. It’s the way of the game and you wave him off lightly, lowering yourself back into a chair and letting your head fall against the cool surface of the wall. 

Another hour. 

If you had to guess, you would say there’s less violence on the field today. It’s Annabeth’s first time leading a team, you know that, and you’re aware of the way her mind works - lower injuries, higher soldiers. There’s little doubt that she’s ran the numbers, with backup plans for her backup plans to find and steal the flag. You know you should be rooting against her, Apollo partnered with Ares this time around, but you want this victory for her. 

There’s a flurry of movement from outside moments later, a groan followed by a muttered “I’m fine, Annabeth” before the girl is in front of you, frown pulling across her features. 

Beside her, or rather resting his weight on her, is Luke Castellan, eyebrows scrunched together and arms covered in thin cuts. 

You don’t really have much of an opinion on Luke if you’re being honest. You know the basics - a crash course given to you by Silena when you arrived at camp, actual information littered between rumors. Son of Hermes, incredible swordsman. Snuck out of camp two years ago to get a tattoo because he was drunk. Bribed Katie to start growing weed in one of the rarely used greenhouses.

Now, faced with him in a bloodied camp t-shirt and lacking his usual cigarette, you sort of want to know what’s true. 

“What happened to him?” There should be more urgency to your actions, you know, but you help Annabeth guide him into one of the beds at the side of the room slowly. 

“He decided to pick a fight with a bunch of kids near the lake,” Annabeth says, rolling her eyes. Even as she does, there’s this adoration that seeps out of her, the same one you’ve always known her to carry where Luke is concerned. “Three on one.”

Luke groans as you shift his position, glaring at the girl in front of him. “They deserved it. The shit they were saying.” 

Part of you wants to ask, desperately. Annabeth chuckles, nudging his shoulder and says, “Yeah, I know. I already thanked you so stop fishing for compliments.” 

He laughs lowly and you almost forget that there’s a real reason Annabeth would’ve brought him here. You’ve only seen Luke in this room once, late last winter, so it’s odd that he’d be here now. He tilts his chin at her, and then at the door. “Go win that flag.”

She starts to protest, talking about having faith in her team and how making sure he’s safe is more important. Still, she glances towards the door. 

“He’s in good hands with me, Annabeth,” You say when she stops to breathe for a moment. She bites her lip. “I promise.”

“She promises,” Luke repeats from behind you and apparently, that’s all Annabeth needed. With a final glance between you, she retreats, working her way back into the game. “Just me and you now, Angel.” 

There’s some sort of shift with Annabeth’s absence, thicker in the air and not completely unwelcome. Maybe it’s the nickname, too familiar for people having their second conversation, but there’s this way Luke says it, no intention twisting around the letters but settling warmly into your system anyway. You ignore it. “Where are you hurt, Castellan?” 

He grimaces and it’s the first time you notice his hand clasped at his side. It drops and you take in the darker color of his camp t-shirt there, the way it sticks to the area damp with blood and probably a lot of sweat. 

“Holy shit.” 

“It’s not that bad,” he jokes and you raise an eyebrow at him. He shrugs. “I’ve had worse.”

You shake your head. “Come on then, let’s see it.” 

It’s something you don’t do often, this informality with a patient. Bedside manner means something in healing but right now, you can’t think of the right way to channel it. To be gentle with Luke would feel awkward, restrictive almost, and to be too formal would just be rude at this point. What you’re doing now seems to work, if the way he grins is any indication, and you excuse yourself to the supply cabinet as he does as requested.

When you turn back around, Luke has his shirt off, legs still hanging off the side of the bed. You almost want to tell him to lay down, for your own peace of mind. Make it so you can simply treat the wound without having to look at him properly. Because Luke is…

Luke is really fucking pretty. 

You’ve known he was attractive - everyone knew that. It wasn’t something openly spoken about, not with how he exists on the outskirts of camp most of the time, but it was mutually understood. For all his faults, Luke was incredibly attractive. 

Now, though, even with blood covering half of his torso, he’s really fucking pretty. 

“I’m just going to clean it first,” you say when you reach him and it comes out quieter than you intended. You stand in front of him and his head tilts back slightly to look at your face properly. “Do you mind if you just- I need to get a little closer to look at it.”

You expect him to turn to the side, let the wound face you a bit better. Instead, the space between Luke’s legs widens enough for you to take a step closer, almost like a challenge, and you take it anyway. 

You work on instinct, wiping the blood away, pressing gentle fingertips into the skin. Habits formed over months, usually steady hands shaking just slightly as you wipe the cloth against Luke’s torso, his even breaths hitting the side of your neck at this angle. 

It’s not as deep as you expected, the skin still open, completely raw but not as ugly as it could be. As what you expected it to be. Gently, you press the gauze to it, lifting your head to be met with Luke’s eyes. They’re brown. They’re brown and completely relaxed and you kind of really want to find out how wide they could get in the right situation. 

“I told you it wasn’t that bad,” Luke says and you feel it more than you hear it. It shoots through your veins and you distantly remember Silena telling you that she once caught him with a line of coke. They rattle together before falling silent and you can hear your own breathing again. Luke’s too, slower than yours but close enough that you can count the length of each one. 

“You still should’ve come to me when you got injured.” 

“I’ll remember that next time.” It drifts across your cheeks, warming the skin there and you look back down at your hand pressed against Luke’s side. Pulling the gauze away, you quickly replace it with a clean square, sticking it in place carefully.

You run a finger across the edges before muttering, “All done.” 

There’s a right thing to do. Take a step back, give Luke the privacy to redress and send him on his way with instructions for looking after the dressing. That’s what you’re supposed to do. It’s what your brain is screaming at you to do, actually, but Luke’s skin is still so warm under your palm and each breath makes you more aware of the dip in his collarbones and you can’t think of a single good reason to move away.

When his lips part, you think he’s going to give you one. Instead, he whispers, “Tell me no,” and it just makes more sense to meet him halfway than say yes. 

Turns out, Luke Castellan is a really good kisser. It matches him, the blase way he leans into the action, tilts his head and adjusts the pressure to match whatever you do. Distantly, you remember to move your hand, dropping it from the gauze and resting it on his thigh instead and there’s this noise Luke makes in the back of his throat as you do so that makes you want to do it again.

He breaks off in the end, drawing in deep breaths. To see him disheveled isn’t entirely new, not with the lack of care he puts into maintaining his camp uniform, but to see him like this - dark curls run through, cheeks flushed red and lips swollen - is something else entirely. Without thinking too hard, you dip your head and place a kiss to the skin where his neck meets his shoulder. He shivers and you take it as an invitation, pressing another to his shoulder and then one to his right collarbone. 

His loose grip on your hip tightens and you wonder how far you could take this before you would have to stop. Based on the low curse Luke lets out when you repeat the motions on the other side of his neck, it’ll probably take until another camper comes to find you. 

Dragging your gaze down Luke’s frame, you come to the reasonable conclusion that it’s a risk you’re just going to have to take. 

2.

You expect it to happen sooner, staring at the door each evening willing it to open. A week of counting the hours, locking the med bay every night and still no sign of Luke. He’s back from his quest - Will had rushed in with the news when he’d crossed the border back into camp - but you’re yet to see him at all. Silena tried to tell you about his quest, about his failure really, and you’d shut her down before she could give you anything more than that he’d been badly injured. 

Lee had been on duty the day he’d returned. Written the notes and left them filed away. 

Deep scarring on the face. Nectar and ambrosia required on arrival. Patient refused monitoring. 

He doesn’t offer any further insight when he catches you reading over them the next morning, just shrugs like he expected Luke to refuse his help. Like he’s surprised the other boy even showed up for treatment at all. It’s moments like that, where there’s this judgement surrounding Luke’s mere existence, that remind you of the weeks before his quest. The five hectic weeks of bruised knuckles and how soft they could be against your skin. Of how nice cigarette smoke could be coming from Luke’s lips instead of just lingering in the air. 

So it catches you off guard when the knock sounds on your door, the same familiar quick raps of knuckles on the wood that you grew accustomed to hearing late into the night. He’s there, when you pry the door open, and he’s nothing like you expected. 

He’s still Luke, from the ragged tee to staggered breathing, but there’s blood covering half of his face, dripping from the stretch of open skin running down his left cheek and a dip in his spine he never had before. 

“Do you want to berate me first or can I just come in?” 

Stepping out of the way, you gesture into the empty room. There’s a familiar routine to this now, despite the week without it, and Luke takes his usual path to the bed near the cabinets. It’s wrong, the way you attach yourself to the casualness of it, to the comfort of having him back in this space with you, instead of rushing to do your job. 

But it’s Luke, a little broken maybe, but still Luke. 

“Who’d you fight this time?” You ask as you dig through drawers for everything you might need. You tell yourself it’s to be prepared - you both know what it really is. “Don’t tell me the foxes are back.”

“If you think this is bad, you should see the other guy.” 

It’s a running joke, borne of concern the first time Luke showed up here after curfew with a cut on jaw and nose a little more crooked than before. Something to reassure you, to stop you shifting yourself into professional mode. A way of assuring you that there was no rush. 

“You didn’t have a healing scar before,” you mutter regardless, slotting yourself into the space between his legs like normal. There’s an overhead light and, from directly in front of him, you can make out the length of it, the shape of the raised skin. It’s still raw, a little puffy, but on the right track. “Or did you forget?” 

“It’s not exactly easy to ignore, is it?” He shrugs, sitting straighter. “Besides, Ares kids are never all that.”

Finally, you think, lifting your hand to touch the taut skin there, there’s the bitterness you’ve heard in his voice so many times before. It’s one of those things you’ve come to recognise in Luke’s tone, the cadence of it when he actually cares, pitching lower than usual, burying itself under nonchalance. 

He watches as your thumb swipes across his cheek, pulling back to observe the way it stains red. You’re used to seeing him a little damaged, easily put back together by your hand. This is something else, a reflection of how everyone else sees him - bloodied and broken and damn near unapproachable for fear of spilled blood - and you want to capture it in your brain for the future, maybe forever. 

“I’m starting to think you might like me,” Luke says, hands moving from where they sit on the bed to rest on your waist. Your eyes stay locked on the pad of your thumb, watching the blood begin to seep into your skin. A beat, the brush of his warm thumb against the skin on your waist, and then, “It doesn’t hurt that much.” 

It goes against so much of who you’ve always sworn to be, finding him so pretty in this moment. Taking in the red of his cheek, the way it stretches down his neck and drips onto his t-shirt. Short of taking a medical oath, you’ve promised yourself to heal. To mend. To treating the injured, regardless of your own feelings on the matter.

Of course it would only take Luke Castellan, dark eyes and tender hands, to challenge that. 

“Tell me if it does,” You whisper and he licks his lower lip as he nods, wiping away some of the blood staining it as he does. The end of his quiet “promise” catches itself between your lips, mingling with the metal on your tongue and making it sweeter than you could’ve ever anticipated. 

This part of Luke is all too familiar, the taste of him to the comfortable weight of yourself on him. You’d learnt on that first night what made him tick, what made its way through him and he would return to you tenfold. In the weeks since, you’ve studied them, picking them apart until there’s been nothing to do but follow them into freefall. 

Now, you use them to guide you. Those small hitches in his breathing, the clearing of his throat, the slip of his palm when you press your lips to the skin above his pulse on the left and let them stain the right to match. It’ll all fade when you come back to yourself, cleaning the wound and stitching him back up, but it’s there when you lean back to look at him again, the undeniable mark of you on Luke Castellan’s skin. 

“You’re really fucking pretty, you know that.”

Luke tilts his head, squinting a little to focus his gaze. It’s this thing he does whenever you get like this, observant and a tad shy, waiting for the ball to drop. You keep silent, arms still wrapped around his shoulders and knees digging into the mattress either side of his hips. It’ll pass, always. 

When it does, the air changes. Not quite the same heated urgency as before, less hazy and with Luke realising the inch he’s been given, taking the mile you’ve offered in the inbetween. He’s still broken, still stained despite your best efforts to remove it, and he settles a hand in the hair at the nape of your neck as you push closer to him. 

3.

Silena told you once that it only takes twenty-one days to form a habit. She was talking about finding cigarette ends scattered around the training centre, a sure sign of Luke’s presence there each day, and how his habits had become too ingrained in him after years for them to be broken. It wasn’t true, you’d known that much, but it stayed in the back of your mind with every new one you attempted to build - daily runs, the correct amount of sleep, offering help to someone you didn’t know too well at camp. None of them ever stuck, lasting a few days at most, but it strikes you again now, Luke pushing his way through your door.

Eight weeks. More than enough time to form an alleged habit. You think, observing the flex of his arm, the thin section of ink peeking out from under his camp tee when he does, that you’ve fallen into a habit with Luke Castellan. Possibly even the habit of Luke Castellan. 

It’s different this time, however. The lack of visible bruising on his own skin, for one. There’s hints of it, smatterings of black and purple stretching across his knuckles, the skin peeling slightly, but his face is unmarred save for his usual scar. You don’t often see Luke mean. Based on the clench of his fists, so tight you’re sure it must hurt, you’re not entirely sure you want to.

“Did you know that he was summoned?” He says through gritted teeth. Sometimes, you wonder if Luke knows how to start a conversation properly. It’s not something you’ve known him to do, never a hello or goodbye, just a topic spoken into the space around you both. Neverending. “Claimed while I was away getting my ass handed to me by a dragon and then summoned for a discussion with Hermes.” 

You understand, then, why his entire body is tense. A carefully curated reputation tumbling down around him after years. The fallen son of Hermes finally getting some comeuppance for his impudence. Being replaced, in spite of dedication given to people who couldn’t stand to be around him. It’s not the first time you’ve been upset for him, but it is the first time it’s made you ache for justice. 

“I heard he got back this morning.” 

Luke hums and you watch as his cheek hollows, knowing how his teeth are indenting on the skin inside. “Came to find me first thing. To tell me all about it.”

“He came to rub it in.”

“Good girl,” he smiles, the first since walking in, and the combination burns low in your gut. A habit takes twenty-one days to form and it took Luke seventeen to understand the effect those words had on you. “I swung for him before I even realised I was doing it.” 

You perch yourself on the edge of one of the beds, keeping careful track of his movements across the room. “This might be the first time you’ve come here and the other guy is actually going to look worse.” 

It does what you wanted it to, drags a chuckle out of him and releases the tension from his shoulders. “I bumped into Will on my way here. Sent him to patch him up and keep him far away from me.” 

“Are you telling me you planned to get me alone in the med bay, Castellan?”

His nose scrunches, stealing the last of his rage from the air and twisting it into something different. “You were already alone in the med bay. I just planned to take advantage of it.”

The change in dynamic isn’t lost on you, so unused to starting in these positions, but you let it linger for a moment anyway. Ground yourself in the knowledge that Luke knows you, knows your breathing and your movements and your heartbeat. It doesn’t take twenty-one days to build a habit, and you’re far from breaking this one.

“Tell me no,” Luke says and it echoes in a way it hasn’t before. Joins the dust in the air and settles in the sunlight from the high windows. You take a breath. He releases one. “Tell me yes.” 

It’s something you should think about more, letting him ingrain himself in your space the way you have been. Patching him up is one thing, borne from consideration and oath and demanded by a higher power than yourself. In the dark nights of camp, you can pretend the time you spend with him doesn’t count for much - that it barely exists if you want to. That’s how you’ve navigated it so far, pretending not to know the calluses on his hands during demonstrations, brushing it off when Silena points out how he’s been getting into more fights these past few months. 

You should leave Luke Castellan in the shadows, a boy mended in dim lighting and known through hushed conversations. 

But you know the taste of smoke from his lungs, the press of his lips on your skin. You know his blood and his sweat and his mumbled curses. You know more about him than anyone in this camp, maybe in this world, and you’re the only one who cares to trace it over again and again until you can recite him line by line. 

“Yes, Luke,” It comes out louder than intended, completely defined. “Please.” 

Whatever it is about it, the assuredness or the plea, it’s what he needs, crashing into you like it’s all he’s ever wanted to do. There’s an easy confidence to the way he touches you now, swallows the sounds you make to keep them for himself, keeps you half-hidden from the daylight peering in like it’ll protect you both. You bury yourself under his skin, nails and teeth and take parts of him with you when you let go. 

It’s risky, slightly too hurried for how important it feels, but it makes sense with each breath you share. Fits itself to the bitterness that frays your edges, hems them into something more palatable. Luke’s mumbles are half-formed against your skin and yours are incomplete in air and they stick together as something no one else could translate. 

You can’t define this, not with a theory or a diagnosis, but you think it could fall neatly into your notes as a categorised addiction. 

With Luke’s soft curls between your fingers, you kind of forget how to care.

+1

“You know, I could probably beat you in a fight.” 

Luke chuckles, flicking the ash from his cigarette to the ground behind your cabin. It’s a new thing, hiding yourselves away in new locations, and you’re sort of fascinated with the way he chooses where to go. No rhyme or reason. “You think?”

“I would bet so much money on it if we actually got paid here,” You nod, rocking back on your heels. He’s nicer like this, bathed in moonlight and at peace with his surroundings. It’s something you’ve become accustomed to, the casual dichotomy of Luke at night, unburdened by rumours. “I would bet your chain on it.” 

You’re not serious, he knows that - the silver necklace is one of the few things he actually treasures - but it’s funny to see his face lift in disbelief as you say it. He presses the end of his cigarette out under his shoe and you bite the inside of your cheek to stop the smile threatening to come out. 

“You really think you could beat me in a fight?” 

You take a step back with each one he takes forward, only to find yourself pressed against your cabin seconds later. Luke’s smile changes, twists a little more into a smirk, and you let yourself relax into it. Instead of an answer, you hum lightly. His hands land either side of your head and you feel yourself smile before you remember to stop it. 

“Take it back,” he whispers and it drifts across your cheekbones. You drop your gaze to the peek of silver above his camp shirt, curling a finger underneath the metal so the charm dangling from it drops into full view. You glance back at him, his gaze dropping from your face to hand on his chest. “Please.” 

Wrapping your hand around the cool metal, you tug him the short distance between you and it feels like the better response when Luke smiles against your lips.

#🖋️ abi writes… #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #luke castellan x you

[thepastdied]

Laughter is the Best Medicine

Not my gif

TW: panic attack.

eddie munson × reader fluff

warning: cuteness

Eddie cheers you up after a panic attack.

Yes, I know Hellfire isn't in the auditorium. Shhh.

Your breathing got faster as you slid your body down the cement wall of the auditorium, throat tightening and your insides twisting around painfully.

Your teacher had called you out in front of the entire class an hour ago, and you'd been holding in your nerves since then. It was agonizing.

Your palms were sweating, face hot, head fuzzy, and you were overwhelmed with nausea.

You huffed out a sob, your shaky hand covering your mouth as you muffled your cries.

You hated yourself for being so sensitive. But waking up and coming to this hell hole was such a chore. Every. Day. You felt like you wanted to throw up every morning, your stomach turning from the moment your eyes snapped open to the loud ringing of your alarm clock. Even worse when you would smell the fresh breakfast your mom made before you slipped out the front door.

Getting to school was one of the hardest parts of your day. The short drive gave you little to no time to prepare yourself for the crowd of students flocking into the school and through the hallways.

The moment you got to class, it was like a sigh of relief. You'd talk with a couple of classmates, and that was all. You didn't feel as anxious anymore and actually felt safe to be sitting down in a room with familiar faces rather than pushing through a crowd.

But here you were, a pathetic mess on the floor of the auditorium. All because a teacher snapped at you for laughing at one of Eddie's jokes.

"What's the stinkiest planet?" Eddie turned around and leaned over your desk, his eyebrows raising in anticipation, eyes sparkling as his full lips pulled into a smirk.

You cringed at him, shaking your head.

"Poopiter." He leaned back and laughed at his own joke. You following suit and got your own ass handed to you for it.

You felt stupid, but it was so embarrassing. More so because it was in front of Eddie, who you were totally crushing on. He was always so sweet to you. The entire class looked at you, scowling and rolling their eyes. You don't know how you'd be able to set foot in that classroom again. You have never gotten yelled at by a teacher.

Your vision blurred as tears poured down your face, ears hot and ringing, body shivering. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you hyperventilated. It hurt.

Your nimble fingers picked at the frayed thread of your ripped jeans, tears rolling down the bridge of your nose and landing on your thigh as your head bowed down. Your lips quivered before you sobbed again, your hands covering your red face as your throat gurgled from the saliva building in your mouth.

Your head snapped up, the hard push on the auditorium door handle echoing loudly throughout the room.

"Doopy doo dee daaaa.." Eddie quickly passed you as he galloped down the long slope walkway toward the stage. His torn backpack hung loosly on one shoulder and flopped roughly against his back.

You shrunk into yourself, your whole body going hot in embarrassment as you quickly wiped the tears from your face and covered your eyes with your still shaky hands, the knot in your throat growing bigger. You swallowed and took the deepest breath you could before slowly letting it out. And then again. And again.

A sudden smack made you perk your head up, the back of your hand wiping under your nose.

"Shit.." Eddie abruptly stopped and turned around to pick up the pencil case that fell out of his backpack. "Need a new backpack."

You involuntarily sniffled, your eyes going wide as his head shot up in your direction.

"Hey!" He grinned, eyes cheerful as he reached one arm up high and waved his arm as if he were flagging down a ship.

You meekly raised your hand, still paralyzed from your panic attack.

He stared at you for a moment, hand frozen in mid-air before he let it fall to his side, tilting his head quizzically.

"Hey, you okay?" He called across the room.

Your stomach twisted again and your eyes started to burn again. I hate when people ask if you're okay when you are NOT okay.

You chomped down on your lip as it began to quiver, a single tear escaping down your cheek.

"No no no no, don't.. shit shit why did I ask that.. uh-" Eddie cursed as he spun in a circle, frantically looking around and panicking.

He held his breath for a moment as he paused, standing still before shrugging his backpack off his shoulder and letting it fall to the floor.

Eddie slowly walked back up the aisle, hands clasped behind him as he leaned forward to get a better look at you- like he was observing a scared cat.

He stood upright as he saw what a mess you were. Your hair stuck to your wet, red, and puffy face, your sad eyes meeting his soft brown ones.

His ringed hand came up to scratch at his chin, his lips sticking at as he looked around awkwardly. You put your head back down to rest on your knees that you'd been hugging and sniffled again as a tear fell onto your sleeve.

He carefully walked in front of you, his dirty white reeboks almost touching your just as dirty converse. You opened your eyes when you heard him groan as he sat down in front of you, his back leaning against one of the many chairs that covered the room.

Your eyes stayed on his sneakers. You wanted to speak, but you couldn't. The only sounds coming out were sniffles.

Eddie skidded his foot forward, the top of his shoe knocking on the side of yours. You didn't move.

He did it again, but with his other foot. And then started to tap them back and forth to whatever song he was playing in his head.

You momentarily furrowed your eyebrows as you watched his feet and shifted your focus to his arms when he started to fiddle with an imaginary guitar.

You wiped your cheek on your shoulder and huffed out a laugh as he began to rock his head back and forth, eyes closed.

"Wish you could hear this. I'm totally shredding it." He peeked one eye open as he began to hum.

You covered your mouth to cover your giggle, his movements pausing at your reaction and feet remaining on either side of your own.

"Maybe someday?" He placed his hands on the floor and leaned forward in question.

You licked your tear stained lips and used the sleeve of your sweater to wipe both of your eyes, your tears finally stopping.

"At the Hideout?" You croaked, cringing at how hoarse your voice was.

He smiled at you, his eyes big and the corners of his mouth turning downwards in the way that they do.

"Every Tuesday, hun." He winked at you, eyes dazzling.

Your breath caught in your throat and you broke eye contact. Eddie internally panicked for a second until you looked back up and nodded with a weak smile.

His eyes left yours and danced across your face until they trailed down to your hair. He reached forward and ran his fingers along the small braid you had behind your ear.

"Cool." He muttered. "Wanna do mine?" He quirked one eyebrow and grinned as he grabbed a lock of his curls and wiggled it back and forth.

Your throat went dry as you wordlessly nodded.

Fuck.

Eddie excitedly did a little dance and slid his body so your thighs were touching. He held his arm out toward you, a black hair tie snug on his wrist.

Your fingers brushed his skin as you pulled it over his hand and placed it on your lap.

His fingers nervously drummed against his thighs as you raked your hand through his hair, which was surprisingly not as knotted as you thought.

Keyword, as. It was still pretty knotted.

The back of your hand brushed his neck as you began to separate three sections of his hair behind his ear, the same area where yours was. He shivered before coughing and sitting up straighter.

He hummed a bit, and soon his head started to lightly bob back and forth as he did before.

"Eddie! You made me mess up." You pouted as his soft curls slipped from your fingers and the braid quickly unraveled.

He laughed, shoulders shaking as he held his hands up and apologized.

You scoffed and shook your head before starting over again, still struggling to keep a grip on his impossibly soft hair.

"Can you talk to me about it?" He whispered after a long moment of silence.

You paused just for a second. You didn't feel that anxiety creep back up, but you didn't want to cry again.

"Want you to tell me what's wrong, sweetheart."

You sighed. So you told him why you were upset.

"Jesus.. I totally forgot about that." He looked down at the floor in deep thought before placing his hand on your ankle.

"You know that the whole class probably forgot, too. Ya know? Tomorrow it will be just like any other day. Mrs. O'Donnell won't even remember either, probably. She yells at me all the time. Would probably confuse that whole situation with me, honestly." His big stupidly pretty eyes bored into yours, sincerity written all over his face.

"If she ever brings it up - which she won't by the way, I'll tell her that it was me. She won't think twice about it." He shrugged.

You released his hair and put your hands on your lap, wringing your fingers together before you began to pick at your nails. You felt that sting in your eyes again, but you held it this time. You were still embarrassed because it was in front of him. His eyes flicked down before he pursed his lips and shook his head, bangs swiping his forehand.

"Don't do that.." He muttered as he moved his hand from your ankle to your wrist, thumb rubbing circles into the soft skin there.

He trailed his index finger up your palm slowly, way too slowly, before intertwining his fingers with yours. A small blush creeped across his cheeks when your fingers tightened around his.

"For the record," He paused for a moment when your eyes met his through your eyelashes. He bit onto his top lip, bottom lip sticking out as he bashfully placed his face against his shoulder to itch his jaw. "You're still pretty even when you cry."

"Oh my god.." You laughed as you covered your face when the hand he wasn't holding.

His timid smile quickly disappeared into a dopey grin.

"I got another joke, sweetheart." He pulled your hand onto his lap as he sat up straighter and shook the stray curls from his face.

You nodded for him to continue, your hand now covering your mouth as you chewed your lip shyly.

"Do you want to hear a joke about pizza?" His face went serious.

You both were quiet for a few heartbeats before a laugh bubbled in his throat. He strained his mouth, jaw tensing as he tried to conceal his laugh.

"What is it?" You smiled as you nudged him with your shoe.

"Never mind, it's too cheesy." He burst out laughing, letting all the laughter he held for the last minute into the auditorium as he threw his head back.

It was the stupidest joke, and that's why you laughed, your hand shoving his shoulder as he hunched forward and knocked into you.

"That is so stupid." You sputtered, mainly giggling at his overreaction.

He nodded his head, wiping a non existent tear dramatically from under his eye.

"Wheeeew. That was a knee slapper." He chuckled again, shaking his head at the absurdity.

His stray laughs came to a steady stop as he looked at your hand still clasped around his, your thumb playing with one of his rings.

"Seeing how you like my jokes, I was thinking.. maybe we could uh-.. I mean, if you are on the same page as me- like we could -" He stumbled with his words before the door swung open and a group of boys and one girl slid into the room.

The both of you scrambled away from eachother before they could see the close proximity you'd been in.

Eddie clumsily made his way to his feet as you did and rubbed his sweaty hands on the rough denim covering his thighs.

"Go out with me. Pizza. Tonight." Eddie blurted out, his voice cracking.

You blinked a few times and shifted on your feet.

"U-uh.. yeah, sure!" You mentally slapped yourself.

He slowly nodded and jumped on the balls of his feet as his eyes flicked between you and the boys that made their way to the stage.

He stepped forward, his hands frantically moving around in his pockets before he pulled out a piece of candy. He wrinkled his nose at the flavor before placing it in your hand and closing your fingers tightly around it.

"So you don't forget. You'll see it and be like 'Oh! Eddie! Sweet, sweet Eddie!' and then you'll remember our date. Tonight." He placed one hand on the wall and coolly leaned against it. "You got a number, sweets?"

You sheepishly nodded before pulling a pen out of your jacket pocket, rolling his sleeve up to write your phone number across his wrist.

His wild curls covered his eyes, but you can see his shit eating grin as he, what you assumed, watched as you wrote on his skin.

You clicked the pen closed before he quickly grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips, placing a good smacker on the back of your hand.

You giggled as he stepped away from you, still holding your hand as your arms stretched out.

"See you later, darlin'." He winked at you as he made a clicking sound with his mouth before he trotted back down the aisle toward his friends, swooping his backpack up in the process.

You sighed dreamily as you watched him climb the stairs and flop down on the chair that looked like a throne.

Fuck, you were lucky.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson hurt/comfort #soft!eddie #shy!eddie munson #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson blog #eddie munson x reader blurb

[satoruhour]

THE RACER!JJK MULTIVERSE ˙⊹༺

“ask any racer — any real racer. it don’t matter if you win by an inch or a mile. winning’s winning.”

I. THE INTRODUCTION — JJK MEN AND THEIR CARS now, of course we can’t start this off by not introducing their rides! below are the cars that i’ve chosen for the boys, although they might not be as accurate in vibe or looks. this is all in good fun!

☆ gojo’s 1999 Nissan Skyline R34

☆ geto’s 1997 Mazda RX-7 Veilside Fortune

☆ nanami’s 1968 Dodge Charger

☆ toji’s 1969 Chevrolet Corvette Sting Ray

☆ sukuna’s 1966 Ford GT40 Chassis P/1046

☆ megumi’s 2001 Nissan Silvia S15 Spec-S

II. YOUR RELATIONSHIP it’s the 2000s and the height of illegal street racing is at its peak. amongst the frequents racers and spectators, there’s always a few that stand out with their upgraded NOS’s and sleek paint jobs, but more so because of their unmatched aura. it’s just that you never thought you’d be at the centre of it all, too, smiling over at your little racer boy from the passenger seat ♡

GO! / warnings: essentially car sex & pet names & unprotected sex for everything, fingering, clit stimulation, praise, public sex, geto listens in on a call, riding, implied p → v penetration, implied creampie / breeding, implied threesome w/ stsg (gojo), clit stimulation, handjob, semi-public sex, p → v penetration, doggy, geto asks and then takes a pic of you, creampie / breeding (geto), praise, oral (f receiving), fingering, pleasure dom nanami, squirting, clit stimulation (nanami), age gap (reader’s early 20s, toji is forty), oral (m receiving) while driving, facefucking, semi-public sex, clit stimulation, daddy kink, implied p → v penetration (toji)

REWARDS FROM A RACER / sukuna joins the fray! / warnings: ooc sukuna, dom!sukuna, lewd declarations in public, he’s a little mean and calls you ‘whore’, ‘slut’, praise, degradation, pet names, car sex, semi-public sex, oral (m! receiving), light face-fucking, unprotected sex, riding, p → v penetration, clit stimulation, dash of daddy kink, creampie / breeding kink

LATE NIGHT DRIFT / megumi joins as well! / warnings: general, fluff

LLOROMANNIC / elaboration on racer!geto! / warnings: virginity loss, soft dom!geto, geto really really is obsessed w/ you, oral / cunnilingus (eats pussy like this! like i really don’t know what this position’s called), pet names, slight nipple play, clit stimulation, fingering, slight size kink, p -> v penetration, protected sex

III. HOW DID YOU MEET? maybe you already knew the other, or maybe you didn’t, but either way you didn’t know fate had plans in store for you when you stumble across the racer, twined together by crankshafts and other... suggestive things!

first meeting / warnings: general, some fluff, suggestive in nanami’s drabble

IV. RELATED WORK perhaps you met them in a different way, or things didn’t work out — below are an assortment of fics that dictate a different way your life with our racer boys may have went. you could say it’s works that are canon-divergent!

alternate! how did you meet? / warnings: general, shitty boyfriend, some crude language on toji’s part

flag girl!reader series / a work in progress!

#i had this in my drafts for soooo long #i might as well just post it man 😭😭 #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #nanami smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami x you #getou suguru smut #suguru geto smut #geto smut #geto suguru x you #geto fluff #toji fushiguro smut #toji smut #toji x you #jjk toji #gojou satoru x reader #gojo fluff #geto suguru x reader #nanami kento smut #fushiguro toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #geto x reader #fushiguro toji smut

[dgrailwar]

Round 3, Day 2 - ALL TEAMS (Extra Summon - Tempest)

The lone Faker stood in the midst of the storm, awaiting whoever was to challenge her.

A figure, spiraling down from the heavens and striking at the Faker. The Alter-Ego, beautiful and proud, engaged in swift close combat as her bladed legs danced against the sparking metal of the Faker's sword. They seemed to be evenly matched, as the Alter-Ego laughed.

"I don't get what all the fuss is about--! I could handle you by myself, you know?"

"Alter-Ego… I like that warrior's confidence, but it won't be enough!"

The Faker's eyes flashed, the Alter-Ego's movements slowing in a critical moment as she was struck off the chariot, only recovering fast enough to safely land on the ground to regroup. The chariot wheeled downwards, charging at the Alter-Ego before a gust of wind threw it off course, the Faker's attention turning to another Servant. The MoonCancer, hovering in the air with massive flapping elephant ears, venting to nobody in particular.

"Gh… why couldn't I have 'support-type' build? Then I could just hang back and throw out buffs while everyone else got in close with the fighting. Ahh-- whatever! If I'm a tank, then I'm a tank! Let's draw some aggro!"

With the Faker's attention drawn elsewhere, two more Servants rushed into the fray.

"The sound of lightning…!"

"Come, o' Blade of Flames!"

Two attacks, simultaneously struck at the Faker. One, a glittering roseate fencing blade thrust forward. Second, a dark saber of cursed flames slashed downward. Both attacks forced the rider of the skeletal chariot to reel, as she retaliated with her own sword, knocking them both away with a thunderous strike as they both spiraled in the air, struggling to catch themselves.

"Uwaah--! That sword… is fast…!" "Hahaha! She's a bit tougher than a standard Heroic Spirit! Good! Very good!"

On the ground, two Servants watched. One of them, a Pretender in a white cloak, held out his hands as magic sparkled outward, providing energy to the direct combatants as they fought against the Faker. The second, a Ruler wearing a heavy blue cloak against the storm, was waving her banner proudly, light shining from her body.

"You must be the Ruler, looking at how proudly you're waving that flag. I didn't take a Ruler for one to want a reward."

"I don't care for the reward, just for solving this Grail War. This battle... we'll have to work together, but by some metric one of us will be determined as 'the best'."

"An 'MVP', perhaps?" The Pretender chuckled. "So, nobody can afford to sandbag either. Everybody wants to be a winner, right? Even someone like you can't afford to lose."

She slammed down her banner, the harsh rainfall temporarily broken by golden light that pierced through like an arrow, covering all the participating Servants against the Faker-Class.

"You're right, I don't want to lose either...so, let's give it our all! Come, Faker! Let the battle begin!"

"Hahaha! Now this is what I love to see! In this bout, I shall serve as your seventh! So come, show me that warrior spirit! The greatest of you will face glory, and the cowardly will face punishment! Warriors of the Extra-Class, Mages of the modern era, distant as you may ever be-- show me your resolve, and Faker will return it in kind!"

Due to the presence of all participating Servants everyone is put on fair ground! No boosts or demerits apply, the results are what they are!

The Servant who does the most against Faker (as in, gets 1st Place) wins!

SCORING:

1st Place will receive a boost of their choosing from an assortment for their next round!

2nd Place will not receive any rewards, but evade punishment!

3rd through 5th Place will gain a -2% demerit during their next round! These demerits bypass any resistances!

Last place will gain a wound that bypasses any damage evasion passives!

#extra summon event #combat phase poll #team avenger #team mooncancer #team foreigner #team pretender #team alter ego #team ruler

[vacuouslyfalse]

Made this post before but I think in general when you have to go "[term] doesn't mean anything like its colloquial meaning, it actually means this different thing using a bunch of other high-context concepts" this is a pretty big red flag that your conceptual map is fraying and coming loose from the territory

[nayziiz]

Disturbed | OP81

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader (she/her)

Author's note: I'm trying something a little bit different with shorter form fics, so please send through any requests or feedback. These one shots will likely not have a second part unless it really speaks to me to continue with it. Thank you!

Masterlist

In the high-stakes world of motorsports, where the roar of engines drowned out all other sounds and the smell of burning rubber hung heavy in the air, Oscar stood as a beacon of unwavering determination. His name was synonymous with calm and resilience, his reputation forged on the anvil of countless hard-fought battles on-track and defying odds by helping keep his team in the running for third in the Constructors Championship. From the moment he first strapped himself into the driver's seat, Oscar had possessed an indomitable spirit that seemed impervious to the twists and turns of the race track.

Race after race, he pushed himself and his car to the very limit in pursuit of glory. Whether navigating treacherous hairpin turns or duelling wheel-to-wheel with his rivals, Oscar never backed down from a challenge. His resolve was unyielding, a relentless force that propelled him forward, even in the face of seemingly insurmountable obstacles.

But for all his unwavering determination, there were moments when he faltered too. It was on one particularly gruelling race day that the cracks in his armour began to show. Everything seemed to conspire against him – mechanical issues, strategic missteps, and a relentless onslaught of bad luck. Each setback chipped away at his confidence, threatening to unravel the very fabric of his resolve.

As the race wore on and Oscar's fortunes continued to decline, a sense of despair settled over him like a suffocating blanket. Doubt crept into his mind, gnawing away at his confidence and sowing seeds of uncertainty. For the first time in his career, he found himself teetering on the brink of defeat, his once unshakable resolve shaken to its core.

Amidst the chaos of the pit lane and the cacophony of roaring engines, there was one constant that anchored Oscar's fraying sanity – her. She was the quiet strength in his corner, the steady presence that never wavered, no matter how tumultuous the storm. Her belief in him was unwavering, a beacon of light cutting through the darkness of doubt.

With each passing lap, she mumbled quiet prayers in the garage. She was his rock, his anchor in the storm, her unwavering support a lifeline in his darkest hour. And though he struggled to find solace in the midst of defeat, he knew that as long as she stood by his side, he would never truly be alone.

As the chequered flag finally fell and the race came to an end, Oscar found himself staring down the bitter taste of defeat. But in the arms of the one who had stood by him through it all, he discovered a glimmer of hope amidst the wreckage of his shattered dreams.

“Oscar, listen to me,” she said, her voice cutting through the chaos of the post-race pit lane like a beacon of clarity. “I know things didn’t go as planned, but you've got this. You've faced tougher challenges before, and you've always come out on top. This is just another step to reaching the top.”

He glanced over at her, his eyes searching for reassurance in the midst of his turmoil.

“But what if this time is different? What if I've finally met my match?” he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

She reached out and gently took his hand, her touch a comforting presence in the midst of his turmoil.

“You're Oscar Piastri,” she said, her voice unwavering. “You're one of the most talented drivers out there, and nothing – not even a bad race – can change that. You have the skill, the determination, and the heart to overcome anything that comes your way.”

In the aftermath of defeat, Oscar realised that his strength did not lie solely in his ability to conquer adversity, but in his capacity to accept defeat with grace and humility. And though the road ahead may be fraught with challenges, he knew that as long as she stood by his side, he would always find the courage to carry on. For in her unwavering support, he found the resilience to rise from the ashes of defeat and chase his dreams once more.

#oscar piastri #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #mclaren #mclaren f1 #f1 x reader #f1 #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri x female reader #op81 imagine #op81 x reader #op81 #op81 fic

[mcbannerprideflags]

Fraysexual Flag & Shield

Flag #1 & Shield #1 white banner light blue per fess blue chief gray base

Flag #2 & Shield #2 white banner light blue per pale blue pale dexter grey pale sinister

#fraysexual #fray #minecraft pride flags

[disneyprincemuke]

i’m giving up your ghost

i’d live in these stories forever if it means being with you

my name on your ribcage (cl16)

you revitalise my fraying bones (op81)

give anything to stop time (mv1)

red flags waving (gr63)

electricity surging in the air (kr7)

a single look (cs55)

this love's but a newborn (ls18)

let's just see where this goes (ms47)

obliterated these walls for you (ln4)

someone else's word to keep (yt22)

the apartment we won't share (sv5)

lose sight of every divide (jb22)

on the drive home (ll30)

vinyl and seeking status (aa23)

either way, i'll keep you here (ls2)

it's come to a close

#no i’m not writing abt my ex #duno what ur talking abt #disneyprincemuke masterlist #charles leclerc x reader #oscar piastri x reader #max verstappen x reader #alex albon x reader #george russell x reader #mick schumacher x reader #carlos sainz x reader #logan sargeant x reader #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke iguyg