#anyway I don't go here I'm just terrible at minding my business my bad!

[felicitypdf]

this newsletter asked college students how they were feeling about the u.s. election results and only one person (of the 15 published answers) could scrounge up a sensible answer

[restinslices]

Lin Kuei Bros: Play Fighting

Smoke so dramatic-. Anyway, don’t ask why I thought of this. The voices were loud

Bi-Han

Play fighting with any of them is bold as fuck but HIM? You don't like your life 

I'm not saying he's gonna straight up assault you but out of all the brothers, he has the highest chance of hitting you hard as shit on accident 

He probably wouldn't even like play fighting that much. He'd prefer sparring cause at least you're working on your skills. Why you just fucking around?

You gotta catch him on the right day. Some days he's busy and some days he's just legit not in the mood. 

“Imma start it off slow. Imma scope the scenery out-”

If you somehow get this man to cooperate, first of all good job. Second of all, y'all do not stop until you give up. 

The type to pin you down and not let go until you admit he won. If you refuse, you're legit not moving. 

This is a big guy so you're not moving him. You give up, he lets go and you manage to crack a smile out of him

We never see him smile in the game but listen bitch, I'm here for the fantasy-

If he's not in the mood, I can see him just saying “no” like you're a puppy or smth. 

You'd go to swing on him again and he'd either grab your hand or give you a look that tells you he's being serious 

Going back to him accidentally hitting you hard as shit, he's used to sparring with two other buff ass men. Imma guess you're not as buff as them, and some of y'all reading this ain't men. Accidents are bound to happen 

You'd think the Grandmaster would have more control but I just think it slips sometimes. He's stupidly prideful and he's used to sparring so sometimes that's where his mind goes. Also once again, he probably sometimes forgets a hit Kuai Liang could handle is a hit that'll take years off your life. 

I would love to say he gets on his knees and apologizes but this is the same man who betrayed his brothers and was like “why y'all tweaking?” so um… 

You're gasping for air and he's “see why I always say no?”

I feel like I'm making him sound abusive but as someone who's play fought with my older siblings, they hit you hard as shit then tell you you're a bitch when a tear slips out. Why the fuck are you hitting me this hard in my chest? You got 5+ years on me-

He's an older brother. He's gonna hit hard. I swear it's in their DNA 

And if he does apologize it's not really verbal. He checks to make sure your limbs are alright then offers to do something else. 

“Are you gonna say you're sorry?” “For?” “For almost breaking my damn lung” “You started this”

You'd expect that the next time you wanna play fight he'd decline cause he doesn't wanna hurt you again. Wrong. 

Remember he's an older brother. THE older brother. Y'all squaring up again. You don't care about your health so fuck it. 

Honestly would be super fun besides the limb you're gonna lose 

Kuai Liang

Would be more cooperative than Bi-Han but still isn't overly excited to play fight 

Bi-Han is the “tell mom. I don't care” older brother. Kuai Liang is the “wait wait wait, I'm sorry. You can hit me back. Calm down. You want some candy?” older brother 

Fully aware he could cause terrible injuries but as time passes on, he relaxes more 

Definitely play fought as a kid but after Tomas started jumping everytime he heard his voice, he thought “maybe I need new hobbies”.

You’ve interrupted his recovery

He actively focuses on holding back and being soft even if you tell him not to

“Hit me harder” “No❤”

Honestly a fun time though. He holds back when it comes to strength but still tussles with you. Also let's you get hits in even when he could easily dodge them. 

If he accidentally injured you frfr, he's checking up on you immediately and says y'all stopping for today. 

“No, I'm ok” “Can you even breathe right now?” “Uhhh… yes😀” “We're done”

For sure feels like an asshole depending on how bad you're hurt. He's not sliding down the wall in pain but he's like “damn, that was a little too hard”. 

“You can hit me back” “No. I've seen Twilight” “What?” “It's gonna hurt me more than it's gonna hurt you. I'm not doing that”. (Now I wanna write you making them watch Twilight. I'm never gonna be rid of this addiction-)

You gotta hit him back so y'all can be even. It's the only way to move on

Y'all are not doing that shit again for at least another week or so. 

“We gotta scrap right here right now” “No”

Does the thing older siblings do when they put their hand on your head so when you swing at them, you're just hitting air. 

It's so infuriating so you gotta stop. 

The next time though, you swear you're gonna win. You will not. 

Tomas Vrbada

The most willing and having the most fun 

Tomas has two older brothers that probably jumped him on several occasions growing up and you're gonna try and convince me he doesn't have aggression to get out?

People would probably expect he's the softest but no. He's the youngest. As the youngest myself I can assure you, we are used to putting our all in these fights cause we gotta use all our strength to defeat these evil mfs we live with. Sometimes it's not enough-

You're not his older sibling so he's not scrapping like his life depends on it but I do think he's hitting somewhat hard 

Not as hard as Bi-Han, not as soft as Kuai Liang 

You feel his hits but it's not knocking the wind outta you 

Super fun cause he's also using the environment. Definitely is grabbing a pillow and starts swinging it at you. Definitely is running around the couch to chase you. Definitely has thrown you but made sure to aim at something soft. He's probably even turned off the lights then threw a folded blanket at you 

“Cheater” “Don't be upset you didn't think of it first”

You're fighting but laughing at the same time. There's no real tension. Just fucking around. 

Probably starts initiating it too

If he does injure you fr, for a split second he'd actually see it as a victory then he'd remember you're not his older brothers and is like “oh shit-”. 

Injuring those two would mean freedom (or a worse jumping. really depends), injuring you is not good. 

He knows how bad those hits can hurt so he makes sure you're alright. He's not watching you as much as Kuai Liang would but he'd still make sure you're not overly sore. 

He doesn't feel as bad as Kuai Liang would cause he kinda knows this shit happens. Kuai Liang kinda got a little bit of guilt cause Tomas gets into a fighting stance when he raises his hand up. Tomas hasn't victimized anyone so he's more chill about these situations 😭

Tells you random ass stories about when he used to play fight with his brothers. 

“One time Bi-Han threw me in the air and Kuai Liang jumped to catch me only to throw me against the wall”

“This reminds me of when Bi-Han swept my feet from under me and Kuai Liang jumped on me”

“What is it called when someone jumps on you elbow first?”

“This one time I woke up to them standing over me. I knew it was a wrap”

“One time Bi-Han slapped the back of my neck so hard, it was red for at least a week”

“One time Kuai Liang-” “Tomas… you need a therapist” “I don't think that's what it is”

Unlike Kuai Liang who makes you wait, he's cool with scrapping days later. 

Actually says “time out” when he wants a break. Also says “time in” fast as fuck though to catch you off guard 

Legit the most fun brother. I don't make the rules (except I do). 

I did not mean to write the least for Kuai Liang but I was really brain empty for him. Y’all should give me ideas, thanks bookie

[writingwithciara]

birthday cake -quinn hughes-

summary: quinn believes everyone forgot his birthday in favor of thanksgiving. but that's simply not the case

word count: 2k

pairing: quinn hughes x reader

notes: in honor of the love of my life's birthday, i decided to cook up this little gem. hope everyone enjoys it. (should've been posted on his birthday but i got super busy because of thanksgiving & other projects i'm working on)

"hey quinn. do you have any plans for monday?"

"actually, yes." quinn looked up from his phone as brock entered the room. "why?"

"my sister wanted to invite you over to her place for thanksgiving. she said she gave you an invitation the other day but you just shoved it in your bag and that you haven't said anything to her since then."

"that's what that was? i thought she was just handing me some mail that was put in the wrong box."

"have you not seen her since tuesday? you live across the hall from each other."

"i know but our schedules haven't given us the time to chat. she's working when i'm home, and vice versa."

"you should text her and tell her you're going to be busy on monday. i think it would be best coming from you. maybe she won't be upset."

"i'll text her after practice." quinn set his phone in his bag and finished lacing up his skates.

during practice, everyone was talking about y/n's thanksgiving dinner. quinn was the only one who wouldn't be attending. and while he felt bad about it, seeing as she was one of his good friends, he also started to feel bad for himself.

monday was also his 25th birthday but it seemed like no one remembered.

practice went well. so when quinn walked to his car, he sent a text to y/n to let her know he wouldn't be able to show up to her dinner. he made up a lie and said he wouldn't be home.

his plan was to just stay home and watch game highlights while cooking his own meal.

when monday rolled around, y/n and brock were finishing up the food preparations when a thought occurred to y/n.

"oh my freaking god. it's the 14th today. how could i be so stupid?"

"i would love to object, or even agree, depending on what it's about." brock looked at his sister with a curious expression. he couldn't quite read her like he normally could. "care to let me know what you're talking about?"

"october 14th. quinn's birthday! how could i forget? i bake him a cake every year." y/n set her oven mitts back on the rack. "i am a terrible friend."

"i'm sure it's fine. quinn probably forgot about the cake anyway. pretty sure you're in the clear, y/n."

"brock, i've made the cake every single year since we've been friends. he loves it. you should see the way his face lights up when i deliver it to him."

"are you sure it's the cake he likes to see every year?" brock raised his eyebrow, earning a slap to the shoulder from his younger sister.

"brock, no."

"look, just bake him a cake today and give it to him tomorrow. i'm sure he won't mind."

"i don't have the time or oven space to bake a whole new cake." y/n shook her head. "i'm gonna run to the store and buy him one instead.

"people are going to be here any moment. i'm afraid it's gonna have to wait."

"can you please keep them company? i'll be back in 20 minutes."

"you're lucky you're my sister and i love you." brock smiled. "now go fix your friendship with your neighbor."

"love you, brocky." y/n kissed his forehead and went out to her car. she hated the idea of buying a cake from the store. it didn't have the personal touch that her homemade cake did and she knew it wouldn't live up to it either. but she was desperate.

when she got back to her apartment, brock was the only one there.

"nobody's here yet?"

"not yet. mom and steve are almost here. been getting location updates from steve."

"did he let mom drive?"

"yeah. that's probably why they're not here yet." brock chuckled and grabbed the cake from her hands. "this looks amazing. are you gonna try to pass it off as your own?"

"no. i could never lie to quinn." y/n smiled and took it back, setting it down in the fridge. "i'm just going to tell him the truth."

"that's new for you. are you that honest with everyone?"

"i don't think so. there's something different about quinn. he makes me want to be honest."

"have you ever lied to me?"

"no. of course not."

"okay. good." he looked at his sister. "i want you to answer a question then. i'm only gonna ask it once."

"alright. shoot."

"is there something going on between you quinn?"

"no, brock. that would be ridiculous."

"okay. i'm gonna ask it twice. is there something going on between you and quinn?"

"no. you told me he was off limits for dating, as well as the rest of your teammates. but i would be lying to you if i said i didn't think he was really good looking."

"you really think so?" brock's eyes widened at his sisters confession.

"mhm. i do. like, super insanely good looking."

"okay. well, thanks for the honesty." brock couldn't help but chuckle.

before y/n could respond, there was a knock at the door, followed by a few voices.

"sounds like your guests are here. i'll let them in." brock went to the door and opened it, letting their parents inside, along with a few other guests.

y/n spent the first half hour finishing up the meal before brock served it to everyone.

conversation flowed easily around the table, but y/n was stuck thinking about quinn. all his friends were with her and he was most likely alone.

when she stood up abruptly, it caught everyone's attention.

"are you okay?" brock asked.

"yeah. i just have something i really need to do." y/n walked over to the fridge and grabbed the cake. she left her apartment without another word and knocked on quinn's door.

"hey. what are you doing here?" quinn smiled when he answered the door.

"happy birthday." y/n handed him the cake and walked back towards her apartment.

quinn was left standing in his own doorway, staring at the cake. he was used to getting a cake from y/n every year. it was always homemade & this time, it was store bought. but he didn't care. someone actually remembered his birthday.

y/n walked back into her apartment and sat back down at the table. she ignored the looks everyone was giving her and continued eating. everyone went back to eating and talking with each other, quickly forgetting that y/n disappeared for a moment.

a few hours later, everyone was heading out. brock stayed behind to help y/n clean up.

"what did quinn say when you gave him the cake?"

"how did you know that's what i did?"

"you were beating yourself up over missing his birthday. and you left right after i told mom about quinn's goal the other night."

"i wasn't even paying attention to the conversations around me. all i could think about was how quinn's friends were here and nobody mentioned his birthday. i felt bad so i took the cake to him."

"and what did he say?"

"i have no idea. i came right back over here." y/n finished washing the last dish and handed it to brock so he could dry it.

"maybe you should go see him right now. i'm sure he would appreciate some company for the last little bit of his birthday. Oh, and take him some leftovers. dinner was delicious and i guarantee he'll love it." brock grabbed a plate and put all the food he could fit onto it. when he handed it to his sister, she hesitated. "take it to him, y/n. you can't keep beating yourself up over forgetting his birthday."

"you're right." she took the plate and walked to the door. "i'll be back."

"i'll be here." brock chuckled and started putting away the rest of the leftovers.

y/n knocked on quinn's door and waited patiently. when he opened it, she handed him the plate. he looked at her and smiled.

"what's this for?"

"thought you might like some leftovers from today."

"oh. well thank you. smells delicious." he set the plate on the table by the door. "would you like to come in? or do you still have company over there?"

"just brock." y/n smiled and walked into his apartment. "so, how was your birthday?"

"it was good. i got to have breakfast with my parents and then i went to the gym for a bit. then i got a cake delivered to me. it was amazing, by the way."

"really?" y/n smiled. "i'm sorry it wasn't homemade this year. i'm ashamed to admit that i briefly forgot about your birthday and i didn't have enough time to bake you a cake. but i can make up for it if you want."

"look, it doesn't matter to me whether it was homemade or store bought. all i care about is the company that comes with it each year." quinn smiled. "also, thank you for stopping by today. i thought everyone forgot my birthday."

"but quinn, i did forget."

"you remembered eventually. that's all that matters to me. things like that stand out and i appreciate it. more than you think." he sighed. "other than my parents, you're the only one who remembered. so, thank you."

"you're welcome. and i promise i'll make up for almost missing your 25th birthday."

"you don't have to. you're here now. and honestly, your company is the only thing i wanted this year."

"wait, really?"

"yeah. it's the one thing i look forward to for every birthday, no matter how brief it is."

"are you serious?"

"yes. very serious." quinn hesitantly reached for y/n's hand and when she didn't yank it away, he slowly intertwined his fingers with hers. "i'm not sure if you can tell but i like you. i've liked you since the first second i saw you move in across the hall. but unfortunately, i can't do anything about this."

"and why not?" y/n was confused. she liked quinn and it was becoming evident he liked her too. but she didn't understand why nothing could happen.

"you're brock's little sister. it wouldn't be right. it just-"

quinn was unable to finish his sentence. he was pulled forward and y/n's lips were placed on his, softly.

"what was that for?" he asked when y/n pulled away from the kiss.

"your birthday present, dummy." y/n smiled. "and because i like you, quinn."

"you....you do?"

"yes. i don't bake a cake for anyone else's birthday, you know."

"but what about brock?" quinn looked all over her face.

"i'm 24 years old, quinn. brock can't tell me who i can and can't have feelings for." y/n smiled and leaned closer. "besides, i think he actually wants us to be together."

"what makes you say that?"

"he kept encouraging me to come over here to see you. even gave me the plate so i'd have a reason to come over here." she glanced at quinn. "not that i didn't already have a really good reason to come and see you tonight anyway."

"i'm really glad you came over tonight. and kissed me." quinn smirked. "god, i sound like a freaking teenager when he gets his very first girlfriend."

"it's cute." y/n smiled and looked at where her leg touched his. "i think i know the answer to this, but are you enjoying your birthday?"

"i really am." he couldn't help the smile that came upon his face. "i'm still trying to get over the initial shock of you liking me back."

"it's the same for me. guess we can figure it out together, huh?"

"yeah. i guess we can." quinn held her hand and looked at her fingers. "is every part of you just perfect?"

"yes. i do believe every part of me is perfect. perfect in my own special way."

quinn chuckled at the girl he oh so admired. "would it be alright if i kissed you?"

"quinn, you know you don't have to ask." y/n smiled and gave quinn what he wanted. really, what they both wanted.

[delulujuls]

emotional support rivals | ls18, sp11

hi! i dont know how to comment on this one, basically i thought that i would try to tame sergio and lance a bit because i know that some people may not like them as much. but they did pretty well here!

anyway, enjoy!

summary: reader is having the worst day of her life aka first day of her period, lance and sergio dont know how to act but they tryna be supportive

warnings: none i think

pairing: lance stroll x fem!mclarendriver x sergio perez

This day was terrible. And that was it.

But you might ask, how could a day be terrible when it hadn't even had a chance to start? Y/N just felt in her bones that this would be the case. She also knew her current schedule of duties, which considering the current jetlag that weighed heavily on her mind, added quite a bit to her already full plate.

Of course, days like these were allowed to exist; balance in life was the norm. Nevertheless, Y/N fervently wished for this one to, as soon as possible, come to an end.

Unfortunately, a quick end was out of the question, as her alarm had just rung. She struggled to open her sleepy eyes and saw the gloomy 6:30 on her phone's display.

She sighed and sat up in bed, feeling an unpleasant sensation in her stomach. She was familiar with this feeling and it signaled one thing and one thing only.

"Oh no, it can't be."

Y/N muttered under her breath and quickly reached for her phone, opening one of the apps. The notification confirmed her worst fear. "Your period may start today!"

"Fantastic, just fucking fantastic."

In a already bad mood, she tossed her phone into the pillows and got up with a symphony of groans, sighs and curses. As soon as she got out of bed she checked the sheets but the snowy white fabric assured her that today would be a one big roulette of waiting for her period to start.

When she showered and got ready to leave, she also packed her emergency kit for days like this. She had to use it partially though, because the pain in her stomach was simply unbearable. And it wasn't the typical stomach ache that everyone thinks of when they hear 'oh no, my stomach hurts' but this stomach pain was the Lance Stroll of all stomach pains. It doesn't seem to hurt too much, but it spoils your whole mood with its terrible nature.

Since talking about Stroll, it happened like that she still had practice laps that day, which she failed to pass while everyone else did. As it turned out, the same task was waiting for Lance, because in the cafeteria, apart from the busy employees, there was him. And that damn Mexican, too.

"What time are you supposed to be on the track?"

Checo asked from behind her when she was grabbing breakfast from one of the swedish tables.

"What happened to 'hi, good morning'? 'Buenos dias,' at least?"

She muttered, pouring syrup on her pancakes.

"Normally you don't talk to me, so I figured there's no point in trying."

He replied, somewhat thrown off by her response.

"Hello Sergio, nice to see you too and yes, it just happens that we're stuck with each other today. I'm on at 10am, you're ahead of me at 9, and that Aston idiot is at 11."

Y/N said sarcastically, putting on the nicest tone she could muster.

Sergio didn't know how to respond, so when she turned to leave for her table, he simply stepped out of her way.

Lance ate in silence, observing the scene quietly. He was watching the McLaren sun, today completely covered by stormy clouds, going away and sitting alone. Inadvertently his gaze met with Checo, who just shook his head and returned to choosing his breakfast.

Y/N sighed heavily, sitting at one of the empty seats. She ate absentmindedly, not used to the absence of Oscar and Lando. They had different things to attend to that day, so it wasn't unlikely that they wouldn't even cross paths. Maybe it was even better for them; each of them would probably receive a monthly dose of sulking. The charms of being the only girl in the company could be really tough at times.

And it's not that Y/N was a pain in the ass only for Oscar and Lando. She got along well with most people she interacted with daily. A few times she even went out with other girls; she wasn't limiting herself to the company of guys only. Unfortunately, Oscar and Lando had happened to take a particular liking to each other, which made the trio basically unseparable.

There were people with whom she didn't have frequent contact, or with whom she only exchanged smiles in passing but she had never had the chance to exchange a word.

It's also known that in life you can't be liked by everyone and not everyone can be liked by you. In this case, there was no magical exception. It just so happened that she would spend today in the company of those people who sat at the other end of the cafeteria, occasionally throwing her stolen glances.

After finishing her meal, the girl got down to her duties, wanting to bring this day to an end as quickly as possible. At the appointed time, she appeared on the track, quickly changing into her racing suit. She put on her helmet and after a brief discussion of notes, she sat in the car. That's when she felt that something was wrong. The worst-case scenario flashed before her eyes.

"Can I quickly go to the bathroom?"

She asked, looking at the technician nearest to her.

"We're a bit behind schedule. Can it wait?"

Y/N resignedly nodded. She knew there was nothing left to salvage.

She adjusted her straps and when she got the signal to leave the garage, she drove outside and headed straight for the track. After the radio test and receiving permission to start, she clenched her fists and roared the engine.

She was angry and as it's known, there's nothing worse than a female rage.

She was angry at this day, at herself, at this damn car. She was angry at the bloodstain on her damn orange suit, even though she hadn't seen it yet.

She was so hormonal that if it weren't for the helmet restricting her movements, she would have screamed at the top of her lungs.

However, female anger was priceless.

"Best lap time, I repeat, best lap time."

She tightened her grip on the steering wheel, not responding to the message.

In moments like this, she didn't care about anything. And it's pretty well known that a person who doesn't care has nothing to lose.

When the session ended and she received the message that she could pull into the pit lane, she complied. Mechanics rolled her into the garage and only then did it dawn on her that her hands were still clenched on the steering wheel. When she managed to free herself from the car, she immediately checked her seat. She cursed under her breath and took off her helmet, placing it aside. Quickly grabbing the nearest rag, she began to wipe away the stain of shame on her seat. The technician, whom she asked about going to the bathroom before the start, when he realized what had happened and what she was doing, just gave her an apologetic look.

She unzipped her suit and slid its top off, covering the stain on her backside. Zac wanted to congratulate her on the result and discuss the outcomes, but she apologized and grabbed her emergency kit, heading straight to the bathroom. She changed into her unstained clothes, guarded against another unpleasant surprise and bundled up the suit, muttering under her breath that a visit to the laundry awaited her later that day.

When she returned to the McLaren garage, Zac, upon seeing her, immediately smiled.

"Young lady, you charmed us today! You literally flew in that car!"

"I guess that's good, I think."

The girl replied, mustering a smile as she glanced at the monitors in front of her.

"Good? It's brilliant!"

Zac replied with a smile and checked his notes.

"After checking the car, I would ask you to put on your suit again for a moment because we need to do a few more laps on different tires."

"I thought that was it for today."

Y/N replied, looking at him.

"Now, you were driving on mediums; it would be good to know what time you can achieve on the hard compound."

The girl tightened her suit under her armpit.

"But—"

She started, but it felt silly, so she lowered her voice and approached him, "My suit is not suitable."

"How so? What happened?"

He frowned and looked at the bundle she was holding.

"I won't be able to drive in it anymore today."

Zac looked confused, so she just said "period" without using any words. He quickly understood and immediately nodded his head.

"Ask someone if we have another suit in stock. It would mean a lot to me if we could finish these tests today."

Y/N nodded and walked away, sighing heavily when she was out of his reach. However, as it turned out, racing suits are not as straightforward as one might think and the only McLaren suit in this garage was hers—rolled up into a ball of shame and unfit for use. One of the women upon hearing her situation only gave her a comforting hug and suggested borrowing a suit from Sergio or Lance, taking advantage of the fact that they were only drivers nearby. The situation was exceptional and it was all about internal measurements.

Disheartened by the fact that she would be forced to confront the men, she left the garage and looked around. Checo and Lance were sitting nearby, chatting in front of the Aston Martin garage. Y/N gathered herself and approached them, causing them to immediately pause their conversation.

"Can I borrow a suit from either of you?"

"You drive for McLaren, not for Aston or Red Bull."

Sergio said, taking a sip from his bottle. The girl involuntarily clenched her fists. Be professional, she thought and took a deep breath.

"If I didn't have to, I wouldn't ask. I need a suit; mine... is not suitable for driving."

"What happened?"

Lance asked, glancing at her. His expression lacked the hint of malice that Sergio currently possessed.

"I just need one; is that not enough?"

"Give a good reason and I might even give you mine."

Pérez said, crossing his arms.

"I just got my period which means my suit is having a fucking bloodstain on my ass and even though I feel like they're cutting me in half completely alive I have to do some extra laps because this fucking fat idiot didn't think about pitstop to change my tyres and let me go straight to the track" Y/N she spoke quietly and calmly, but her voice was dripping with fury "So do me the pleasure and let one of you give me your overalls before something hits me, for fucks sake."

Lance and Sergio stood still. Sergio's face lost its fierce expression and Lance suddenly realized that he had started holding his breath out of stress.

"I'll give you mine, no problem."

Stroll spoke up, starting to unzip his suit.

"Yours is light, you idiot; if something happens again, everything will be visible."

Pérez scolded him and turned his gaze back to the girl.

"Wait a moment; I'll bring you mine right away."

Y/N nodded and watched him leave.

"Do you feel very bad?"

Lance asked, looking at her. He couldn't wrap his head around how the girl standing in front of him, bleeding and all, could endure such a great strain and still set the best lap time.

"It's been better."

She sighed.

Lance, not knowing exactly what to do or how to help, reached out his hand with a bottle in it. Y/N looked at the bottle first and then at his face. Seeing that he was genuinely concerned, she whispered a quiet 'thanks' and took the water from him.

Sergio returned shortly after, handing her his suit.

"I hope it'll fit well for you."

The girl handed back Lance his water and thanked Pérez as well.

"Good luck, tigresa."

Y/N nodded at them one last time and returned to the garage, changing into the borrowed suit and taking her place in the car again.

As she sat there, waiting for permission to leave the pit lane, she noticed that she wasn't angry anymore, at least not as much as she was some time ago. When she drove out and headed towards the track, she passed Lance and Sergio once again, who were giving her thumbs up.

For the first time that day Y/N genuinely smiled and who would have thought it would be thanks to her rivals, who had now become her emotional support ones?

[yuri-is-online]

There's Mud in Your Eye (Leona and Deuce x Yuu)

"Oh can I help you? You seem to be lost." You attempt to cheerfully ask the vaguely familiar looking person in front of you. As if he is deliberately trying to rub salt in your wounds, Crowley ignored your request to leave campus for NRC parents day and is instead making you and Grim run errands. The person in front of you, blissfully ignorant to your inner turmoil perks up at your attention.

"Forgive me for asking, but are you the magicless prefect?" You and Grim exchange a confused glance. "You've got to be right?" They're practically glowing with how happy they are to see you. " Oh I'm sorry, I've just heard so much about you!" Wait, what?

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, i am out of creative ways to describe these: it's Cheka and Mamma Spade. Slight references to the White Rabbit event. If you liked this please check out the previous parts on my master list here.

Leona

A very confused, very important looking little lion is standing in front of you, attempting to mimic Leona's judgey thinking face. Five year olds lack the smarmy bitterness required to truly pull off the look, but you have to admit, it is pretty cute.

"Um, do you think he ran away from his guards again?" Grim whispers, painfully loud and without nearly enough concern. "Do you think we'll get in trouble if we can't get him back to his retainers?" The scenario feels completely unreal, but then again so does standing in front of royalty. Who are you again anyway? Just some weirdo who is going to have to apologize to their loved ones for taking so long to come home because you couldn't sneeze in another world without bumping into royalty. While you are busy considering whether or not it would be considered child neglect to sprint away from the little guy, Cheka finally finishes his thought process, letting out a contented "hmmm" as he points decisively at you.

"You," he says with all the authority of an extra on a children's tv show "are not Unca."

Well.

That was not what you were expecting. Your mind draws a lengthy blank as Cheka grins up at you in a surprisingly catlike manner seemingly very pleased with himself.

"How did it take ya so long to figure that out?" It has to be a truly stupid question to get Grim's voice to crack.

"Well I decided I was gonna sneak up on Unca." A terrible idea really but who are you to refute royalty. "So instead of running around and askin I decided to just focus on his scent! But I found two places he could be so I just decided to go to the closer one."

"Whatdya mean?" Grim takes a deep breath and interrupts his train of thought with a hard gag you really hope is dramatic. "Oh wow he ain't wrong, you really smell like that lazy bi-" You manage to muzzle him before he can teach Checka too many bad words. You wonder if it would be rude to sniff yourself in front of a literal prince, Cheka's pleased little tail swish doesn't help.

"Can you please take me to Unca?" he asks, so very sweetly looking up at you like you're the shiniest star in the night sky. It hurts to disappoint him.

"Uh I'd love to little guy but I'm not too sure where he is..." you really hope Cheka can't tell just how nervous you are. Crowley did give you a schedule, but it wasn't super detailed, just a vague set of notes about the various events going on.

"Then I'll just stay here with you!" He says, with a surprising degree of authority. "Unca's scent is really strong so I'm sure he'll show up soon!"

''I don't think that's a good idea little guy." You just called the Crown Prince of the Sunset Savannah a little guy. Which he is but you are pretty sure there's a time period where that would have gotten you executed, and you can only pray it's not now. The intense look of what you assume are Cheka's guards running up the main street is not helping with that.

"Your highness! Please don't run off like that." The man seems wary of scolding the prince, but he has no qualms about staring you down. "You! What is your name and who do you think you are to be speaking so casually to-" He cuts himself off, bluster fading as he takes a deep breath and starts staggering away from you. Well not you per se, you realize as you turn around and see an extremely intense looking Leona behind you.

"Stop blamin' your inability to do your job on other people." Leona's voice is slow, authoritative enough that you almost forget he's supposed to be the second prince. The guards do too, until Cheka jumps away from them onto Leona's shoulders and shatters the illusion just a bit.

"Unca! Unca! You're gonna show me the spelldive fields right?" Cheka nuzzles his Uncle's cheek while Leona tries his best to get away.

"I thought you were gonna stay with Prefect." He grumbles.

"We can come with." You say before you fully realize what you're saying surprised at how ok you are with the offer. Cheka lights up, jumping away from his Uncle to nuzzle up to you. Leona's gaze softens ever so slightly, even if he immediately breaks eye contact and starts walking away from you.

"You're welcome to come if you can keep up." You try to convince yourself you follow him just to get away from the guards, but there's a spring in both your steps no one is brave enough to act like they notice.

Deuce

"Yuu! And Grim too! Lucky me I thought I was going to be stuck looking for my kids for at least another hour." Dilla Spade cheerfully says, her decision to refer to you as her child momentarily distracting you from the fact Deuce is nowhere to be seen. She seems to have been granted a day off from work, her usual delivery uniform ditched in favor of a very mom like set of old sweatpants and an old athletic jacket with a logo you assumed belonged to Deuce's middle school.

"Mama Spade!" Strange feelings aside you are extremely happy to see Dilla, and happier still when she perks up just a bit at your calling her mom. "Did Deuce forget to text you again?"

"Not exactly," she says with an affectionate sigh "I caught up with him a bit earlier but he ran off to find his Housewarden. He really wanted to introduce us but said it might be a bit difficult to make that happen."

"Yeah..." Grim says as you exchange a look "Riddle's a really busy guy."

"Well never mind then." She says with a shrug. "What's up with you? Deucey tells me all sorts of things, but it's never the full truth." You shouldn't be surprised Dilla knows something is up. Honestly it's a wonder any of the students with a half way decent relationship with their parents hasn't been yanked out of this school already.

"Nothing too bad I hope?" You say, hopeful that Dilla will give you something to work with so you don't confess to something too wild. She laughs.

"I'm a mom, worrying's part of the territory." You breathe a sigh of relief, though you can't help but wonder just what Dilla's reaction would be to knowing Deuce had fought four overblot phantoms. Would she be proud? You hope so, he deserves it. "I keep telling Deuce to invite you to spend summer with us but he's really hung up on doing things the 'honorable way.'" You try your best not to fluster.

"What's that even mean?" Whines Grim, probably thinking more about the donuts you had while visiting Clock Town more than the implications kicking around in your mind. "offerin' to help me and my hench human out is honorable enough!"

"It really is," you try not to come off as too eager, it would be really nice to spend the Summer somewhere that wasn't Ramshackle, even if it would hurt the ghost's feelin-

"Is Deuce waitin' till he can afford a ring or somethin'?" Grim says, crossing his little paws and sticking your words in your throat. Dilla winking at the little monster with a conspiratorial grin makes you choke. "He is isn't he! Hmph, figures. Well he knows he won't get the Great Grim's permission!"

"Grim!" You squeak.

"Well you are a bit young," Dilla says "but you have my blessing prefect."

"I- I think there's been a bit of a misunderstanding-" you don't want to get anyone's hopes up, you aren't even dating Deuce, you want to say that you don't like him that way, but the lie dies on your lips as a familiar duo comes into view just behind Dilla.

"MOM! oh and PREFECT!!!" The overwhelming joy in Deuce's eyes contrasting with the smug amusement of Ace makes you feel just a bit more at home, despite the awkwardness of the situation. You can almost convince yourself that he's running up the road on the double just to see you.

"Think of it this way," whispers Dilla, firmly placing a hand on your shoulder in a comforting and not forceful way "you're family, and you always will be no matter what label gets slapped on things. Though I am pretty sure you can guess Deuce's preference."

You can, or at least you can hope.

[vodika-vibes]

Congrats on 800 followers 🥳 You deserve all of them and so many more. I know I've been a little MIA, but I still love you and watch your success from afar 🫂

You don't have to do my request, but if you feel so inclined, could I request Tup x Fem!Reader with apple picking? And maybe some apple pie making shenanigans along with it?

Please and thank you 💚💚💚

@the-bad-batch-baroness

Apple Pie Weekend

Summary: While it’s not cheaper to pick apples at the orchard, you still love doing it. Especially since, this year, you can convince Tup to come with you.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Tup x F!Reader

Word Count: 1043

Warnings: Tup is an unrepentant thief

A/N: Of course I'm going to write your request! Because I love you and I love writing for you! Anyway, I'm five sheets passed tired but I did my best! I hope you like it. Also, I went over my word limit by 43 words. That's not terrible.

Click HERE to be added to my taglist!

“Are you sure you’re going to be warm enough?” Tup asks as he critically eyes the thin jacket you’re wearing over your equally thin tee shirt, “You look like you’re going to freeze.” You're surprised that he waited until now to bring it up, honestly. After all, you just arrived at the orchard.

You grin at him, “I’ll be fine, Tup. Really.”

The look he shoots you is doubtful, and you can’t help the amused laugh as you lean over the center console of your speeder and quickly kiss his cheek. “If you get cold I’m not going to let you use my sweatshirt,” Tup warns.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“Busy place,” Tup notes as he pushes his door open to get out of the speeder, his sharp gaze already sweeping the parking lot with a critical eye. 

“Well, it is opening day,” You reply as you walk around the speeder and wrap your arms around his waist. You release a happy hum as he drapes an arm over your shoulder and tugs you closer to his side, “So naturally it will be busy.”

“And why are we here?”

“To pick apples,”

“Obviously,” Tup rolls his eyes dramatically and you grin and push him slightly, not that he moves at all. “You can buy apples at the store. Why do we need to pick them?”

“Because they taste better that way.”

“I doubt that.”

“Oh, come on Tup! Everything tastes better if you have to gather it with your own hands!”

“As someone who’s had to hunt for food before, I can promise that that’s not the case.”

You tighten your grip around him and rest your cheek against his shoulder, “Just two bags, Tup? And then we can go home and make apple pie!”

“Why do you need so many apples?”

You pull away from him and look up into his eyes, “To keep the doctors away.” You reply solemnly.

Tup presses his hands against your cheeks, “If you’re planning on throwing apples at Kix, please don’t. It’ll just make him angry.”

You laugh and drop your forehead to his chest, “I’m going to make a couple of pies and some tarts, and maybe some jams. I haven’t decided yet.”

“Well, if you’re going to make me treats—” Tup muses.

“Who says that they’re for you? Maybe I’m making them for Rex.”

He shoots you an amused look, even as he takes your hand and tugs you towards the stand where people are getting bags, “Then you can call Rex here to pick apples for you.”

You squeeze his hand gently, “Well, I perfect spending time with you anyway.”

“Good, I prefer spending time with you too.” Tup murmurs in reply as you drop a couple of credits in the hand of the girl manning the booth, and accept a couple of bags as well as a map.

45 minutes later, the pair of you are deep in the orchard, and Tup is sitting on a tree branch tossing apples down to you. One of your bags is already full of shiny red apples and the other is half full, but you’re beginning to think that maybe the pair of you should dip out early.

Mainly because the temperature is dropping and you’re starting to get cold. But you’re not going to admit that to Tup because then he’d toss his sweatshirt to you and you’d feel guilty.

You catch another few apples and set them in the bag, before you kneel and peer at the apples.

“Everything good, mesh’la?”

“Yeah, I think we’re all set though.” You call up to him, only to jump when you see him standing only a few feet away from you, “Don’t do that!”

“Not my fault you didn’t hear me,” He shrugs, “You sure you don’t want a few more apples?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” You grab the handles of one of the bags, only to have your hand swatted away as Tup picks them both up. “I can carry one.”

“Nope. I already have them.”

You huff out an amused breath, “I didn’t bring you here to be my pack mule, Tup.”

“Keep up, mesh’la, or you’re going to get left behind!” Tup calls from where he’s walking away from you.

You sputter and then chase after him, “Hey! Wait for me!”

It’s later, much later after you’ve gotten home and the both of you changed into comfortable lounge clothes, and you’ve taken the time to wash the apples, that you start to prep to make an apple pie.

Just the one, at first.

If you make too many at the same time, Tup will just make himself sick by eating them.

You hum a happy tune as you start making the dough for the pie crust (something you should have started hours ago, but Tup’s a menace sometimes and he distracted you), and you jump when strong arms slide around your waist.

“You sound happy,” Tup mumbles as his warm lips trail against your jaw.

“I am happy,” You reply, “I got to spend all day with you, and I get to spend all day tomorrow with you. Nothing could make me happier.”

He releases a deeply contented noise, “If I tell Rex that I’m sick, you can have two more days with me.” Tup’s lips drift across your cheek, and you just know that he’s trying to distract you again.

And, curse him, it’s working.

“If you don’t stop distracting me, this pie will never get made and the apples will start to go brown.” You warn him.

“Oh no,” He doesn’t sound the least bit bothered about it, though.

“You’re a menace.” You add, without any heat.

“And yet you love me anyway.”

“Yeah, I do.”

His fingers are gentle against the sides of your neck as he tilts your head back slightly, “I love you too.” And then he grabs an apple slice, dips it into the cinnamon sugar mix you prepared earlier, and pops the apple slice into his mouth.

You release an indignant noise, “Thief! Get out of my kitchen!”

Tup steals a kiss, and another apple slice, and then retreats from the kitchen laughing. And your heart swells at the sound. You really love him so much.

@imabeautifulbutterfly

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[augustinapril]

Heyyy Spence

So I saw that you wanted some batfam requests (especially platonic ones) so I was wondering if I could ask for a batfam (you pick whatever characters you want to be added) x bat!sibling reader who’s getting a special award but doesn’t tell anyone about it? Not bc they don’t think the family will care, they just think that the rest of them are busy and don’t want to bother them. They somehow find out though and are all there so surprise the reader?

If not- that’s totally fine too!!

Take care <333

Spider || Batfam

Paring: Batfam & gn!reader

Sypnosis: You're Brooklyns resident Spider, or The Insect, as Heaven likes to call you. It's a job you've taken with honor, and you're being thanked for it by the city. What you didn't expect was to see your family in the crowd.

Warnings: kind of a spiderman x dc crossover? r is basically the spiderman of DC, talks of heights, violence and terribly written fight scenes, reader is threatened by a villian, swearing, mentions of food, its poorly written I'm sorry!!

wc: 3.2k || nav || m.list

a/n: shout out to @lu-vin-it for being a character in this fic! he also happens to write so you should definitely go check out their stuff (that's a threat not a request). thank you @lemkay-luminary for proofreading!! <3 reblogs > likes!!

˗ˏˋ ★ ´ˎ˗

Gotham City was constantly buzzing with life, along with death. It was a violent city, full of murderers, thieves, robbers, and villians drowning in a thirst for blood. More times than you could count, the city has stolen the life of people you've cared for. 

It held too many bad memories for you to stay. You loved the city, and it would always be your home, but you had a new home in Brooklyn, too.

Brooklyn gave you a breath of fresh air, here you could see the sun most days. It was calming, the warmth of it a comfort. You love it here and the people here love you in return.

"Spider!" A little girl from down below shouted, strawberry ice cream smeared across her face as she pointed up at you. "It's Spider!"

Her father gave her a light lecture on how it was rude to point when you attached yourself to the side of a building, offering the little girl a wave. She waved back, squealing in excitement at the fact that the Spider was waving at her. 

"Y/n, you know those guys we've been tracking for God knows how long?" Heaven's voice spoke through the comms, startling you.

"I don't, actually, I think they've managed to slip my mind." You retorted sarcastically as you jumped off and swung your way to a nearby rooftop.

"You were bitten by an insect, I can treat you like an insect." 

"Spiders aren't insects, they're—"

There was an annoyed huff that cut you off, it made you snicker. "Fuck you. I should make you do all this by yourself, but I don't. Be grateful. Anyways, so I've gotten a location on them, Visage is most definitely there."

"Where?" You asked quickly. Visage has been tormenting the city for a while now.

"Near Plymouth Church. They've been spotted in some run down building near it." 

"Thank you." You responded and the comms cut out.

That's when you jumped, arms behind you, the breeze pushed against your suit. It was exhilarating to fly through the air, being so high above everything else. 

Helping people in the way you do, swinging through the city and hearing people like that little girl call out to you was worth every risk the job came with. You'd put yourself on the line every time because you're here to protect them. 

Which brought you here, on top of some building across from an abandoned grocery store. Your eyes were glued to the doors, as you watched and waited for something to happen.

A man walked out, wearing protective green gear. It was Visage, you knew it was. There was no mistaking him and his rather ugly suit. 

"Visage, my man, what's up?" You jumped over to the power line nearby, standing on top of the wooden pole. His head snapped up to you, and the second it did, you webbed him. Jumping up you yanked him up with you. You grabbed ahold of his head and slammed it onto the pole. There was a crack in his helmet, him falling to the ground and letting out a pained groan.

"Fuck," You heard him hiss under his breath, struggling to pull himself off the ground. You didn't give him much of a chance before you leapt down in front of him, landing before swiping him off his feet.

"I'm gonna kill you," He raised his gauntleted hand and he fired at you from his spot on the ground.

It was one of his weird creations, Vistech as he liked to call it. It made you realize that villians are extremely uncreative when it comes to naming things.

"'I'm gonna kill you' blah blah blah, I've heard it all before. Your words mean nothing." You retorted, moving out of the way of whatever it was he shot at you. He had a nasty habit of creating new concoctions and testing them on you.

You were sure you probably seemed cocky, and the way he tensed made it evident he wasn't very appreciative of your attitude. "You're really annoying, you know that?"

After that he charged at you, gear adding power to his steps. Your senses spiked, making you leap out of his way. His gauntlet grabbed hold of your arm, as he throwed you towards a nearby wall. 

The impact knocked the wind out of your lungs, falling to the ground with a wheeze. You could hear his heavy boots hit the ground with each step he took towards you. You pushed yourself off the ground, then you lifted your hand and shot webbing at his face. His cries were muffled by the substance, his hand scratched to try and get the webs off. 

You fully pushed yourself off of the ground, wincing in pain. Much to your dismay, the second you were on your feet Visage had pulled off the webs. He ran towards you again and you were lucky to move out of the way on time.

You put your hand behind his head and slammed it full force into the wall, knocking him unconscious. You crouched down, inspecting Visage's guantlet, lifting the heavy metal. It was warm to the touch, most likely because of the weird substance in them.

You looked them over, searching for a way to remove them . It was more sophisticated than you originally thought, but you found it eventually. 

You knew Visage wasn't the highest of rank in whatever business he worked for, but he was high enough on there for you to get some information on the entire organization. 

You tied him up with your webbing, and when you heard police sirens you leapt up to the rooftop of the nearest building, Visage's guantlet in hand.

***

The fight had been all over the news.

Some people praised you for your efforts whilst others said you were nothing but a menace, but the mayor, much to your surprise, was extremely pleased with your work.

She made an announcement on television about wanting to thank you personally for everything you've done for Brooklyn.

Which led you here, stood near the entrance of the building the mayor did most of her work in. She looked elegant, black pencil skirt hugging her legs and waist, a matching jacket on top of a white dress shirt. She was so put together it made you nervous.

You didn't look put together. Not that you really could in your spidersuit but you still felt self-conscious. 

Yet she offered you a warm smile, holding her hand out towards you. "Spider! It's nice to meet you in person."

You smiled back, though she couldn't see it from underneath your mask. "It's nice to meet you too, Madame Mayor." Her hand was warm against the fabric of your suit.

"So you and I will just walk out that door," She began, pointing over towards the door. "And I'll greet the crowd, give a speech, and then I'll shake your hand once more. I'll warn you now, there will be a lot of people."

It was strange how you could fight dangerous people and yet the mention of a crowd made your heart rate pick up. 

You nodded, and she smiled again. Her heels clicked loudly against the white flooring of the office building, your steps quieter than hers. You made sure to wear your converse here. There had been many times you forgot to slip on your shoes before heading out of your bedroom window, your mind racing to find reported criminals.

The doors opened, sunlight shined through as you exited the brick building. There was an abundance of people in the crowd, the snapping of pictures and shouts of Spider filled the atmosphere. There were news reporters that surrounded the barricades of the stairs, keeping the rambunctious crowd from getting too close.

"Hello people of Brooklyn!" The Mayor waved, sun reflecting off of her white painted nails. The way she handled the crowd made you envious and it took everything in you not to teeter on your feet to calm the nerves. 

The crowd gave a series of shouts and greetings in reply, making the mayor laugh. She was good at this, but you suppose she had to be. That's when she introduced you, another wave of excited noise spilled from the ocean of people across from you.

"Hello." You replied as you waved and cringed at how awkward you probably sounded. Another group of greetings sounded around you.

People could be loud when they wanted to be, and that amplified in groups. You eyed them, and noticed the little girl from a few days ago again. She rested on top of her father's shoulders—her face was ice-creamless now—and her abundance of red waves was put into braids with ribbons tied at the end.

She made you smile from under your mask, as the beginning of the mayor's speech slipped past your ears. You moved your gaze from her, your eyes looked over the people and that's when you saw them. Your family in the very back.

Dick looked silly. The entirety of his outfit was just Spider merchandise and you were sure he seemed like an obnoxious fan to the rest of the crowd. Jason stood away from him, probably upset that he had to stand so close to Dick when he looked like that. He blended in more with the crowd, he wore simple attire that any normal person would wear in public. Not that he was normal, he just didn't like to stand out in such a way. 

Your father wore a suit. A very pristine suit, as usual, no one except reporters ever wore something so proper to an event like this. 

Steph had the biggest smile ever on her face, hair pulled back by a purple headband, dressed simply in a long skirt and a purple cardigan to cover it. Tim stood next to her, adorned in a sweater Bernard had given him and a pair of shorts. The both of them were on the opposite side of the crowd. Cass was not too far away. 

She had never enjoyed crowds, or people in general. You wouldn't have noticed her if not for your enhanced senses. She leaned against Bruce's car, the entirety of her black attire blended in with the car's paint. Damian was beside her, arms crossed. The warm weather had him in a simple pair of brown cargo shirts, his green t-shirt blended nicely with them.

Damian probably didn't want to come. Not that he didn't love you or anything, no he often talked about how you were the most tolerable out of the rest of his family, he just never saw the point in coming to something he could very easily watch on TV. You were going to make sure to thank him later.

You returned your attention back to the mayor. As she was nearing the end of her speech she turned to you. "—And I'd like to thank each and every one of you for coming here today. The Spider has done so much for our city this last year, and it seemed rude to not provide our hero a proper thank you."

Her hand reached toward you once again, but before she could grasp your hand an intense feeling of danger hit you. Your head snapped up, turning over and noticing a man—one of Visage's men it seemed from the apparel he wore—directing one of the  special guns directly at the mayor. You shielded her quickly, pulling her away just as he pulled the trigger. 

The crowd screamed at the sound, erupting in panic. You should've known this would have happened. Nothing is ever so easy.

 "Are you okay?" You asked the mayor, and she nodded, mumbling a thank you. You once her over just to make sure before jumping back into the crowd. It was almost as if the man multiplied in your short time of making sure the mayor was okay. 

"Can't you guys take days off or something?" You asked, annoyed when you webbed one of the weapons, yanking it out of his hands and sticking it up against the wall of a building. "Seriously, you guys are everywhere. I think you might need to bring this up with your boss."

One of them charged at you, which you swiftly moved out of the way but kept your foot in place, snickering when she tripped on the ground. 

You jumped, legs pushing you high enough to land on the top of a street lamp. You'd yanked one of the men up with you, slamming his head into the light before webbing him to it, leaving him dangling when you jumped down. 

"Do you ever shut up?" A woman shouted, irritated with you. She lunged at you, but hit the wall—hard enough as to where you could hear a loud groan.

"Only if you say please."

There was only one person left, he radiated irritation. It was easy to piss these people off. If it were a sport you'd have 1st place medals galore.

"And then there were two." You joked, watching as he pulled out a similar weapon to the first guys.

"Shut your fucking mouth!"

You scoffed, preparing yourself to attack him before you answered. "Do you people have no manners?"

It was a swift motion, webbing the weapon so he couldn't fire. He tried to rip off the webs before you got him in the face. His sounds of confusion were muffled, and you took this time to kick the legs out from under him, sticking his hand together 

Within minutes, you'd gotten all of them tied up. It was a swift battle—if you could even consider it one—and now you made your way back to the Mayor.

With a quick once over, you knew she was okay. Shaken up, but overall physically okay. You still asked to be sure. "Are you okay?"

She looked at you, offering a smile. "Yes, I'm okay thanks to you. Thank you again, Spider. For everything. I don't know where Brooklyn would be without you."

You couldn’t think of a response. Talking to people was hard, but talking to the Mayor was harder. Especially when she said something like that. “It’s no problem.” You said, though you questioned if it sounded awkward.

After assisting to make sure everyone was okay. You felt a small tug at the stretchy fabric of your suit. Your head drifting in the direction of the source, your heart warmed. It was the little girl from before. “Spider!”

You grinned underneath your mask, crouching down to see eye-to-eye with her, taking notice of the adorable crochet beanie in her head. “Hello. I really like your hat!”

She giggled, the brightest smile you’ve ever seen crossing her features. “It has you on it!”

"It does! Did someone make it for you?"

Her waves bounced around her head when she nodded, grabbing ahold of her father's hand and shaking it around. "My daddy made it for me! Isn't that right, daddy?"

He gave a proud grin, though it wasn't as bright as it would be if he didn't look so exhausted. "Yeah, that's right, sweetheart. I did make it."

"You should convince him to make me one," You joked, looking up at her father. "It's an awesome hat. I'm honored to have such a hat with me on it."

"She wouldn't stop pestering me until I finished," He replied, shaking his head with a chuckle. "She asked me everyday if her hat was done. She loves you."

You warmed and looked back at the child. "And her love will always be appreciated."

After a rather hard goodbye, he led her back towards their small car. It took a few hours, but eventually you were able to make your way back home for a quick meal. You had some spare time before you decided you were going to force yourself back out into the city, hoping to finally give yourself a chance to relax.

Though it seemed your plans had been foiled, the smell of Mac & Cheese filled your apartment, and the slight chatter of familiar voices bouncing off of the fake wooden walls.

"Alfred?" Your eyebrows rose when you saw the man that was basically your second father standing in front of your stove, a pot in front of him as he stirred a wooden spoon through the creamy noodles. "You're making Mac & Cheese?"

Alfred never enjoyed making Mac & Cheese like this, far more into homemade foods rather than the cheap store-bought boxes. He enjoyed putting care into his cooking, and boxed Mac & Cheese took that away. In his eyes, at least.

You set your stuff down, listening to Alfreds words even though he didn't look at you. "I would have made something else, but it seems this was all you had in your cupboard, L/n."

"Fair." You shrugged before you heard someone clearing his throat.

"No hello to your father?"

You looked at him and smiled. "Hello Father."

Jason snickered, as he crossed his arms over his chest. "You sound like Damian." His feet on your table made you send him a light glare.

"Better him than you, Jay. And get your nasty ass feet off my table." You shoved his feet off of the fake wood, as you ignored the glare he sent you when you walked by, and ruffled Damian's hair. "How's the favorite brother?"

He huffed in annoyance and shoved your hand away, an incoherent grumble being your only response.

"Y/n!" Steph interrupted, a blur of purple passing your vision as he gave you a swift hug, arms wrapping tightly around you. "We missed you!"

"I missed you guys too." You grinned, brushing a few strands of blonde hair that fell out of her headband behind her ear after she pulled away. "Where's Cass and Dick?"

As if on queue, Dick walked through the door, his hand in the air as he answered. "We're here!" He had a flare for the dramatics, his high-school yearbooks and his years of theater could prove it. 

Cass' entrance was far more tame, as she carefully walked through as to not drop the big yellow box in her hands,closing the door with her foot. "We brought cake."

"Cake?" You weren't expecting cake, and especially not store bought cake. Alfred would be quivering in his boots if he didn't have to hide his irritation. 

"You didn't tell us about the Mayor." Damian interrupted, his arms crossed. Irritation was written all over his face—which seemed to mask his slight pain about the topic—and you were hit with a sudden pang of guilt.

"Sorry, Dami." You began, as you gave an apologetic smile. You looked at all of them, trying to explain yourself. "You guys are all so busy, I didn't wanna pull you away from your work."

The explanation seemed silly now that you said it out loud. It was a stupid reason, your family cared about you a lot and it probably seemed like a kick in the face. You continued, words spilling out of your mouth in an anxiety consumed guilt.

"It's not that I thought you guys wouldn't care or anything I just— I don't know, I didn't wanna pull you guys away from something more important."

"No work could ever come above you," Bruce spoke quickly, taking your hand within his. He squeezed it, as if it were to make his words stronger with meaning.

And in a way it did, it reminded you that your family may be busy, but you all would always put each other first.

˗ˏˋ ★ ´ˎ˗

sorry this was all over the place!! constructive criticism is always welcome!! please consider reblogging if you did enjoy it!!

[sy3ra]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ lovestruck!

𖤐 description: love-struck/lovestruck (adj.) experiencing intense feelings of romantic love for someone; besotted or infatuated.

𖤐 ft. lovestruck/lovesick! satoru × yuji's sister! reader (fem)

𖤐 content: lovestruck/lovesick! satoru, fluff, sickeningly disgusting fluff, the gojo satoru falling in love, wholesome, feeding my delulu rn, cringe and cliche sorry, reader is described as very beautiful, almost angelic (the things lovestruck! satoru can see lol), reader is yuji's big sister here (obviously an au)

𖤐 author's note: my writing style is so inconsistent i'm so sorry, everything's just based on my mood lol & my grammar sucks. anyways i'm terribly down bad for a lovestruck satoru so, i'm bringing y'all with me. (p. s. reader is well versed in arts and crafts and runs a small business in australia)

(author from the future: heyy, since y'all agreed that i should post this piece of crap rotting in my drafts, so here it is! so sorry for the late post, i've been busy with school.)

masterlist | requests

reblogs are appreciated!

☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆★

"sensei, can we go to the airport?"

yuji suddenly asks, looking up at his teacher, who was seated beside him. "airport? why do we need to go there?" probed satoru. "my big sister's coming back from australia today. normally, she would only come back for vacation but...now that our grandpa has passed, i guess she just wanted to give me some support." yuji responded with a mellow smile at the thought of his big sis, he's missed her so much.

satoru pondered for a moment, before giving his student an accepting grin and a thumbs up. "i don't see why not! i mean if it's for my student of course i'll accept" he said, pearly whites showing as he stood up, which was soon followed by a gleeful yuji. "really? thank you, sensei!" yuji's smile widened, to which satoru returned with the same gleeful smile. seeing his students happy in this damned world was enough.

☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆★

"so, what's your sister like?" satoru asked curiously, hands gripping the steering wheel as they drove to the airport. (unfortunately, he had to drive) yuji's eyes lit up at this, finding this the best opportunity to ramble about his big sister.

"she's the best sister anyone could ever possibly ask for, except her teasing, she still treats me like a kid even now.." yuji started, obviously passionate about his beloved big sister. "she's well versed in arts and crafts, and even she even opened up a small shop in australia!"  she's talented, satoru thought, feeling the gleefulness of his student from the driver's seat. "she sounds impressive," he nodded with a smile, a pause following soon after. "is she pretty?" satoru felt bold at the moment, not sure why. maybe he was just curious, yes that's it, right?

"very! she's basically the female version of me, sensei!" yuji replied, to which satoru chuckled imagining a vague image of yuji's sister in his mind. "can't wait to meet her then!" satoru nodded with a cheeky smile as they got nearer to the airport.

the weather was surprisingly pleasant, the sun shining down from the large patch of blue sky, covered slightly by white fluffy cumulus clouds creating a breezy atmosphere that isn't cold but not too hot. the traffic wasn't too much of a bother as well, they got to the airport as quickly as they left the jujutsu technical high school.

the only predicament was, the airport is jam packed with people. yuji frantically searched for his big sister, since her plane had landed thirty minutes ago. even with satoru's height, it's still quite hard to look around properly, he didn't quite know what yuji's big sister looked like in person, yuji just described her to be a feminine version of him.

that is until he sees his student's eyes light up, rushing towards someone, almost pushing everyone that was in the way, engulfing a shorter girl with the same pink hair as yuji in a bear hug.

"you've grown so much, yuji! you're taller than me now!" the pink haired woman said, stepping back to look at her little brother (that's not so little anymore). satoru couldn't see her very well, unfortunately. "i missed you lots, nee-san! i brought sensei with me, come meet him!" yuji takes his sister's hand and leads her to satoru, who was somewhere at the entrance of the airport, leaning against the wall.

to say he was infatuated by her was an understatement, hell, he was enamoured by the woman who stood before him. she was short, her hair shone a strawberry pink like her brother's, her eyes, oh her eyes were beautiful, they shone like a pair of gems, and her smile, they were so bright and warm, almost like the gentle rays of the sun. she stood out from the rest of the crowd.

"hi! you must be yuji's sensei. i'm (____) itadori, his big sister. nice to meet you..uhm, sorry what was your name again?" you greeted with a smile, small dimples showing on each side of your cheek as you held out your hand for him to shake.

your voice snapped him out of his euphoria, it sounded so angelic, he wanted to hear your voice everyday. satoru's mind felt absent as he looked down at you, you were really more beautiful than he had imagined you to be.

"sensei?" yuji queried with concern, making satoru shake his head, that same charming and handsome smirk appearing on his face (he was nervous). "sorry sorry, nice to meet you too, miss (____). i'm satoru gojo." he held his hand out as well, meeting yours, his hand was larger than your hand, almost swallowing it whole.

you smiled as you shook hands with him, feeling a small electric spark when your skin came in contact with one another, though you paid no mind to it.

"yuji has told me all about you, mr. gojo! thank you kindly for taking care of my brother. How could I possibly repay your kindness?" you said with a slight bow, making satoru feel slightly embarrassed  (for the first time ever). "no need, i was just doing my job as a teacher." replies satoru, clearing his throat. his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows. hard. why was he so nervous in the presence of this woman who he just met? he was so used to flirting with other girls (despite being a virgin) but.. you. you made him nervous.

"oh I insist, mr. gojo!" you chuckled, lifting your head up, straightening your posture. yuji tugged at your sleeves, making you look at your little brother. "what is it, yuji?" you ask, tilting your head sideways. cute: satoru thought. "i'll go to the bathroom for a bit" yuji says quietly, earning a nod of acknowledgement from his sister. "sensei" yuji gives him a thumbs up before rushing to the nearby restrooms of the airport.

"well that was something" satoru laughs as he stands there, quite awkwardly now that he's left alone with you out of all people. you on the other hand, only laughed at his awkward response. "now, back to my statement: how can i repay you for taking care of my brother, mr. gojo?" you ask once again, you were stubborn like your brother, almost.

satoru comes up with an absurd idea in mind, he hesitates, this was going to be a bad idea. "your number," satoru responds, his throat becoming dry from the sheer nervousness he was feeling. "you can repay me by giving me your number, miss (____)." he continues, it was insane how he was able to keep his smirk up despite his palms beginning to sweat.

you were silent for a moment, your cheeks becoming rosy by each passing second. it wasn't always you encountered a man who was bold and smooth enough to ask for your number, and actually become successful at it. you chuckled as a response, your chuckle coming out as embarrassed instead of happily as originally intended. "really now?" you whisper, your index finger scratching your cheek lightly, before you came up with an idea.

you rummaged through your backpack, finding a thin black marker in one of its pockets. "that's a pretty bold move you got there, mr. gojo" you bite back a smile as you take his left hand and begins to write your number on his palm, you looked so adorable in his eyes, with your half-lidded gaze concentrated on writing the numbers on his skin, your visibly rosy cheeks, and your hair that was annoyingly in the way of letting him see your face in all its glory.

slowly, satoru lifts his free hand up to tuck a thick strand of your pink hair behind your ear, since it was in the way. a seemingly harmless action yet it made you divert your attention from his palm, to his face with slightly wide eyes, and suddenly, your gaze felt like a spotlight, it was as if you were looking at him like he was the only man in the world.

you clear your throat, stepping back to give him his space, and then put your black marker back in your bag, eyes studying the numbers that you wrote on his palm. "there"  you say simply, with a small smile. satoru stands there, seemingly in a state of euphoria for a moment before shaking his head, cerulean blue eyes looking down at the black ink drawn on his skin through his blindfold. a lopsided smirk appearing on his face. "now for some reason, i feel quite special to have a cute girl's number in my contact list. thank you, miss (____)." he responds, his smirk turning into a cheeky grin as he stuffs his left hand in his pocket, careful not to smudge the ink on his palm. after all this is a once in a lifetime opportunity.

in return, you huff out a laugh. "(____)'s fine, mr. gojo." you chime in, your voice seemed so soft to him.

"i'm back!" yuji yells, catching the attention of the two adults as her runs back from the restrooms. "why don't we grab a meal? my treat" you say, smiling at the two boys, in which yuji returns with an excited nod. "i don't mind, but it will be my treat, i insist." satoru offered, "oh no need, mr. gojo. i insist." you reply,

"i insist, miss (____)"

"no, i insist, mr. gojo!"

"why don't we just divide the bill?" chimed yuji, making the two adults that stood in front of him think for a moment before coming to a conclusion.

"oh alright, that seems fair." you nod, looking up at satoru, the man nods as well. "then it's settled, let's go!" satoru grins excitedly, staring down at yuji and back to you.

"let's go! i'm starving!" yuji groans, taking the first step forward, and you smile at your younger brother, a sweet, nostalgic smile.

satoru swears to himself that he was going to win your heart, your soul, all of you. you were perfect from head to toe.

and he sure as hell isn't gonna let someone like you go.

— Mayven.

[milkman-zahhak]

Shane drawing + written fic to accompany it

WARNING, THIS IS A KINK POST, A FETISH POST. IT WILL CONTAIN FETISH CONTENT, SUCH AS BELLIES FULL OF FOOD AND WHATNOT, CHECK THE TAGS FOR THE WHOLE RUNDOWN.

Hello, enjoy another drawing of Shane based off of some in-game dialogue.

Idk if this is base-game, part of one of the many dialogue mods I have installed, or one of the lines I added into the game's code myself to practice modding and to get used to editing dialogue files. I'd say the latter but I don't remember ever typing this so.. idk. Just assuming it's canon for now lol.

Anyways here's the drawing:

+ a short lame-ass gif attempt

I know it's terrible, I wish I could blur it or something so you could choose whether to see it or not, but oh well. Here's what you're probably all looking for, sorry again if my writing is bad, I haven't proofread it or anything, otherwise I would see what I wrote, and decide not to post it ever! So as usual this is all getting posted RAW and UNCUT!!1! That's why I post both the drawing and the writing- so that if one sucks, maybe the other will impress you and save the poor failure of a post. ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Shane sat back on the worn couch in their cozy farmhouse living room, licking the last bit of greasy residue from his fingers with a satisfied sigh. The empty plate in front of him was a testament to the gluttony that had taken hold of him, scattered with crumbs of one of his favorite snacks, pepper poppers. The farmer always made sure to keep the fridge stocked with them in case Shane got hungry while his husband was too busy to cook for him, since Shane's culinary skill peaked at reheating pre-existing meals in a microwave. Shane usually tries to be a bigger help around the farm when he can, doing what he knows best and caring for all of the animals (mostly the chickens) while his husband tended to the crops and went out foraging. All that hardworking farmer stuff. But today was rainy and stormy, the kind of day Shane liked to spend inside the house. He'd went out to the barn and the coop that morning and made sure the animals were okay, but that was about as much physical activity he had since waking up. Meanwhile, despite Shane's concerns and warnings to him, his husband insisted that he go out and fish in the storm, saying "Certain kinds of fish only come out in this weather, Shane. Besides, the rain means I don't need to water the crops today, I can get other chores done!"

So here he was, sitting on his ass in the house watching TV, the entire stock of pepper poppers he'd saved up for a day like this in front of him, or rather, the remainders of it. He had lost count of how many he had consumed, but it was undoubtedly more than he could handle. A warm, uncomfortable pressure began to build in his stomach, causing it to swell noticeably beneath his shirt. He looked down at his belly, which now protruded like a beach ball, and couldn't help but chuckle softly. The spicy treat had become somewhat of a weakness for him, and his husband knew it all too well.

"Oh, oh wow.. The farmer's gonna be home soon, and I'm such a mess", Shane thought, running a hand over his distended stomach. The heavy sensation of fullness and the audible rumbles signaling an incoming tummy ache were worrying, but he couldn't deny the strange satisfaction that came with it. He shifted his position, attempting to alleviate some of the discomfort, only to feel a loud gurgle reverberate throughout his torso. The sound made him blush, and he glanced around the room, hoping that no one else had heard it before remembering that he was home alone. Even if he wasn't, he had a hunch that his husband wouldn't mind seeing him like this anyways. Another gurgle echoed through his intestines, followed by an unmistakable sensation of gas brewing inside of him. Shane leaned to the side, carefully straining as a short, quick puff rushed out from behind him into his seat. "nhfh.." He grunted, holding back a cough as the scent of digesting pepper poppers lingered in the air.

With a groan, Shane shifted his weight on the couch, the couch creaking underneath him as he tried to sit up straight but ultimately slouched back down, regretting trying to preserve his dignity. His stomach gave another loud growl, followed by a series of smaller rumbles that made him cringe. "Pepper poppers, why do you have to taste so good but hurt me so bad?" Shane muttered to himself, rubbing his belly tenderly.

He knew all too well that they didn't agree with him sometimes. They'd make him feel bloated, gassy, and sometimes even give him heartburn and indigestion depending on how much he decided to pig out, but damn if they weren't worth it. He glanced over at the clock on the wall, realizing that his husband would be home soon.

"I should probably clean up this mess before he gets back", Shane thought, looking at the empty plates and greasy napkins littering the coffee table. He slowly pushed himself off the couch, letting out a small burp as he did so. He paused for a moment, waiting for any more gas to escape before he began to gather up the remnants of his indulgent day. His insides were churning up a storm but nothing else seemed to come out just yet. As he bent over to collect some of the napkins that fell on the floor, another gurgle sounded from his stomach, followed by a sharp pain that made him wince.

"Fuck," Shane cursed under his breath, clutching at his swollen midsection. He straightened up carefully, trying to ignore the discomfort as he made his way to the kitchen. Each step he took sent small tremors through his body, making him hyper-aware of every little movement in his stomach.

When he finally reached the kitchen, he deposited the plate into the sink and napkins in the trash can and took a deep breath, leaning against the counter for support. He couldn't help but feel self-conscious about his bloated appearance. He knew his husband loved him no matter what, but Shane couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed.

At this moment, the doorknob jiggled and he heard the front door creak open. It's as if the universe was reading his mind and taunting him. "Hey honey, I'm back! I caught a bunch of neat fish today! I think we might need more Wild Bait though because…" The farmer's words trailed off as he caught sight of Shane in the kitchen, his eyes drifting downwards onto the poor man's swollen belly. Shane could feel the heat rising to his cheeks as his husband's gaze swept over him, taking in the sight of his distress.

"Shane? Are you alright? You look…" the farmer trailed off, concern evident in his voice.

Shane forced a sheepish smile, taking his hand off of his belly, trying to play it cool despite the discomfort. "Urgh.. Y-Yeah, honey, I'm fine, just… *hic* ate too many pepper poppers…" he admitted, quickly going back to rubbing at his stomach again. He could feel the gas building up inside him, threatening to escape at any moment. He hoped that the farmer wouldn't notice, but the man had always been perceptive.

The farmer's eyes narrowed, and Shane knew that he wasn't fooling him one bit. "How many did you have? I mean, I have a whole chest of ingredients in the shed so I can always make you more, but I really thought this time I'd made you enough." he asked, a hint of amusement lacing his tone.

Shane shrugged noncommittally, not wanting to admit the truth. "You did, you made more than enough, sweetie…" Shane paused to let out a belch, only for it to get caught in his throat, the moment passing uncomfortably. "I just… I wasn't paying attention, and I ate more than enough." he mumbled, looking away. No point in feigning innocence now, not if he wanted any help with his developing bellyache.

The farmer chuckled, crossing the room to stand behind him. He wrapped his arms around Shane's waist, pulling him close so that his back was pressed against the farmer's own body. Shane let out a small squeak of surprise, followed by a louder gurgle from his stomach. The farmer's laughter grew louder at the sound, and Shane couldn't help but join in, despite the embarrassment.

"You know they always do this to you, snack-food is supposed to be eaten in moderation, y'know." the farmer said, kissing the back of Shane's neck.

Shane nodded, wincing slightly as another rumble echoed through the kitchen, the cause of which staying irritatingly trapped inside his stomach "Yeah, I know," he replied. "But I couldn't resist. ugh.. They taste so much better after being microwaved." The farmer's hand slid up to rub circles on Shane's distended belly, "Mmhmm, and I bet it's so easy to just keep eating without even thinking about it when they're all… soft and squishy.."

Shane rolled his eyes, the irony of such a description was not lost on him. The farmer couldn't resist teasing Shane some more, rubbing his hands over the swollen belly and giving it a few gentle pats. Shane's cheeks turned a deeper shade of red as the movement caused more gas bubbles to form and shift. "You're adorable, you look like you're pregnant, haha! " the farmer laughed, his fingers tracing patterns on the taut flesh "Kidding, haha. Swallowing seems to be your strong-suit no matter the situation, huh?"

Shane tried to play it off, swatting at the farmer's hand weakly. "Stop!" he said between giggles and groans, "It's not funny!" But deep down, he knew that his husband's touch was helping him relax, even if it made things worse temporarily. The farmer was always so attentive, always knowing just what to do to make him feel better. And just what to say to get under his skin and make him squirm.

Just then, Shane's stomach gave a particularly loud growl, followed by a deep, low burp, like a warning signal. "*bhrrruurup*… uh, 'scuse me.." The farmer's grin faltered slightly, his eyes flickering to Shane's face as he felt the tension return to his husband's body. "Oooohohooohhhh… " Shane moaned, clutching at his belly "f-fuck, they're really doing a number on me". The gas was building up inside him, pressing against his insides like a balloon ready to burst. He could feel the pressure increasing by the second.

"Come on," the farmer said, taking Shane by the hand and leading him back to the couch, "Let's get you comfortable."

The farmer sat Shane back down on the couch, his belly jiggling slightly from the effort it took to move. He sat down next to him and began rubbing his hand gently over his stomach, trying to ease the discomfort. Shane leaned back, letting out a couple of hiccups. "Fuck, that hurts," he muttered, trying relax himself. The farmer chuckled, his eyes filled with warmth and amusement as he continued to rub circles around Shane's navel. "Relax, dear. You know the drill by now." He was right, Shane had experienced this kind of thing many times before after indulging in his favorite foods. His stomach was just sensitive.

Or maybe his favorite foods being greasy, cheesy pizza, soda, peppers, and spicy pepper poppers was the culprit behind his frequent tummy troubles- but as he's said before, he'd rather die before abstaining from any of those foods.

As the farmer's hands kneaded gently into the surface of Shane's aching belly, they loosened up a few air bubbles that were previously trapped. Shane's gasps and groans were interrupted by airy little burps. "There we go~" the farmer cooed, enjoying the little moans that followed almost every time his husband burped. For as much relief as they brought him in the moment, more gas was building inside of him rapidly as his stomach tried to digest everything. Shane knew this was only the beginning of what was bound to be a long night. The farmer leaned down, pressing his ear against Shane's stomach, listening to the symphony of sounds emanating from within. "Sounds like your stomach's waging a war on you in there." he joked, his breath tickling Shane's skin. Shane groaned in embarrassment, but couldn't help but laugh a little, too. The farmer always knew how to lighten the mood. But as his nimble fingers dug into the sensitive flesh of his lower belly, Shane's laughter turned into moans of both pleasure and discomfort. He couldn't deny that there was something erotic about this situation, even though he knew it shouldn't be. "*hic-uuurp.. uuurp*... ughhh, feels… so tight.." He whined.

Shane flinched as his intestines let out a sickly rumble, he knew his husband could feel and hear it from the outside. "Just let it out, it's gotta happen at some point" the farmer whispered, his hand now firmly kneading Shane's lower stomach. Shane nodded, biting his lip. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let go. A loud, long fart echoed inside the room, making them both laugh uncontrollably.

The tension dissipated as the gas escaped, and Shane slumped back onto the couch, relieved for a moment "oh fuck, finally.." he sighed. As the minutes passed, Shane's burps became more frequent and less forceful - small puffs of air escaping his lips like a steam engine letting off steam. He shifted on the couch, farting once more. "Buhhhh.. I don't feel good.."

He was a burpy mess. He struggled to speak between them "I'm so *uuurp* bloated" he whined, looking down at himself with disgust. His stomach was round and hard, protruding against his shirt. He felt each gurgle and bubble as his stomach contents churned like a pot of boiling soup- if the soup was made entirely of pepper poppers and grease. He couldn't believe how much he'd eaten - it felt like he'd never be able to move again. *hic…… hic….*

"oh no, f- *hic* fuck.." Shane moaned. each hiccup jostled his already sensitive belly. He put both his hands on the sides of his poor bloated belly, trying to keep it steady while his husband rubbed it. Suddenly, another hiccup shook Shane's frame, only this time it was accompanied by air being forced out after being sucked in by the initial hiccup. His entire body tensed up and he let out a painful groan. "*hic-uuurp* fuck, that h- *hic-uoorrrp* guh… hurts.." The farmer's hand paused mid-rub, looking down at his husband with a mix of concern and arousal "Aw, you poor thing. I can't stop hiccups.. um, just…. Try not to swallow too much air?" Shane whimpered in response "*hic* can't.. help it.. *hic-uuurp* ow… oooohhh.. *hic-uurlp* ow…" "Just hang in there," the farmer reassured him, rubbing his back now. they were both a bit less talkative for a few minutes as Shane groaned in pain. Eventually his hiccups became less frequent, replaced instead by deeper and wetter belches. but the whole ordeal of uncontrollable hiccups still left Shane exhausted. "*buuuuurp* ugggh… so gurgly… *buuuu-ulp* oooh.." Shane managed to say through clenched teeth.

The farmer nodded sympathetically, rubbing Shane's back with slow, comforting circles. He couldn't help but admire the way his husband's belly moved with every burp, the firmness of it beneath his hands. It was fascinating, in a weird sort of way. The farmer moved in closer next to Shane, resuming his gentle massages on his husband's stomach. His hands moved in slow, deliberate circles, trying to coax any remaining gas out gently.

Shane's breathing was deep and labored, his chest rising and falling with each exhale. "ngh… ohhhhh.. *frrrrrt pffffrr-brrpt* ah.." Shane trembled as he felt pressure building near his backside, unable to hold anything back. After a small toot, realizing it was only another fart, Shane actively pushed a little bit, forcing the air out. "Better?" the farmer asked.

The farmer's touch was soothing, his concern evident as he continued to massage Shane's belly. Shane couldn't deny the strange mix of embarrassment and arousal he was feeling - it wasn't everyday someone else got to see him in such a state. But something about his husband's tender massages made him feel cared for and safe. He nodded weakly, a small smile playing on his lips. "Y-yeah.. thank you." He murmured, leaning into the farmer's touch.

The farmer smiled, his thumb pressing against Shane's belly button as he worked his way around the taut surface. The pressure built again, and Shane even try to hold anything in. He let out a long, wet fart, followed almost immediately by a hefty burp. The farmer laughed softly under his breath. "Good boy." He praised, leaning in to plant a kiss on Shane's cheek. Shane's face reddened at the praise, but he couldn't help but feel a spark of arousal at the gentle dominance in his husband's tone. He bit his lip, trying to contain himself as the farmer's hands continued to work their magic. His belly felt a tiny bit lighter now, the gas slowly leaving his body. The farmer's hands moved lower, accidentally brushing against Shane's crotch. He let out a small yelp at the sudden contact, his erection straining against the fabric of his pants almost as much as his belly strained against his waistband.

"Sorry," He mumbled, turning his face away and burying it in his hands. "It's just… you know.. *uuurp* mmph, you.. You're touching me so much.. a-and rubbing me…" he trailed off, unable to finish his sentence. The farmer chuckled again, his hand resting lightly on Shane's hip. "It's okay, sweetheart." He said softly, giving Shane's side a gentle squeeze. "We've been married for years, I know how your body works." He paused, his eyes meeting Shane's briefly before looking away. "And honestly, it's adorable."

The farmer's words sent another wave of heat through Shane, his embarrassment giving way to full-fledged arousal. He shifted slightly, trying to adjust himself without drawing too much attention. But it was no use - every movement seemed to shake his overstuffed belly, reminding him of his predicament. He could feel the farmer's eyes on him, taking in every detail.

"W-why are you looking at me like that?" Shane stammered, trying to sound playful but failing miserably. The farmer's gaze softened as he reached out and cupped Shane's cheek, turning his face towards him. "Because I find you incredibly sexy right now," he admitted, his voice low and husky. Shane's eyes widened in shock before a small smile tugged at his lips. He couldn't believe it - he felt like such a mess, but the farmer found him attractive?

Shane's smile grew wider, a sense of warmth spreading throughout his body. He couldn't believe that his husband found him attractive even in such an unflattering state. He leaned into the touch, nuzzling against the farmer's palm like a content cat. The farmer's thumb traced circles on his cheek as they sat there in silence for a few moments, enjoying the simple intimacy between them.

However, the peace didn't last long. With a loud groan, Shane's stomach protested again, reminding them both that he still had quite a bit of digesting to do. He winced, his hand flying to his belly as it spasmed painfully. The farmer's expression shifted back to concern, his hand moving from Shane's cheek to his stomach to comfort him. "Do you need anything else?" He asked gently. Shane shook his head, biting his lip to stifle another burp. He didn't want to ruin the moment, but he couldn't deny the discomfort he was still in.

"Nah.." He said finally, "Just.. *urp* need to let my belly settle.. whoof…" He took a deep breath, trying to calm his stomach. The farmer nodded, his hand continuing to rub soothing circles on Shane's belly. They sat like that for a while longer, Shane burping and farting helplessly. The farmer secretly hoped that the storm outside would continue through the night and into tomorrow. Not for the fishing opportunities, but because maybe he did need a good rainy day off at home.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

[astrronomemes]

THE SHINING: STARTERS

a collection of quotes, phrases, and sayings from the 1980 film, The Shining. change & alter as needed.

"Well, I'm looking for a change."

"That is quite a story."

"Obviously, some people can be put off by the idea of staying alone in a place where something like that actually happened."

"Look, I'm at [place], and I still have an awful lot to go through. I don't think I can get home before nine or ten."

"It's a beautiful place. You and [name] are gonna love it."

"This whole place is such an enormous maze, I feel like I'll have to leave a trail of breadcrumbs every time I come in."

"By five o'clock tonight, you'll never know anybody was ever here."

"You probably thought you was the only one. But there are other folks, though mostly they don't know it, or don't believe it."

"You ain't got no business going in there, anyway, so stay out! You understand? Stay out!"

"I love it. I really do. I've never been this happy or comfortable anywhere."

"I'm not being grouchy. I just want to finish my work."

"When I'm in here, that means I'm working. That means don't come in. Now, do you think you can handle that?"

"It's just like pictures in a book, [name]. It isn't real."

"I wish we could stay here forever and ever and ever."

"I love you, [name]. I love you more than anything else in the whole world, and I'd never do anything to hurt you. Never."

"I had the most terrible nightmare I've ever had. It's the most horrible dream I've ever had."

"Oh, my god! [Name], what happened to your neck?"

"God, I'd give anything for a drink — my goddamn soul, just for a glass of beer."

"I like you, [name]. I've always liked you. You were always the best of them."

"Things could be better, [name]. Things could be a whole lot better."

"I did hurt him once, okay? It was an accident! Completely unintentional! It could've happened to anybody!"

"Are you out of your fucking mind?"

"No, it's the truth, really! I swear it!"

"It is so fucking typical of you to create a problem like this when I finally have the chance to accomplish something!"

"[Name], I have let you fuck up my life so far, but I'm not going to let you fuck this up!"

"I'm the kind of man likes to know who's buying their drinks, [name]."

"Come on, hon, wake up. You just had a bad dream. Everything is okay."

"I think we should discuss what should be done with him. What should be done with him?"

"You think maybe he should be taken to a doctor?"

"Has it ever occurred to you what would happen to my future if I were to fail to live up to my responsibilities? Has it ever occurred to you? Has it?!"

"You've had your whole fucking life to think things over! What good is a few more minutes going to do you now?"

"I said I'm not going to hurt you... I'm just going to bash your brains in! I'm going to bash them right the fuck in!"

"[Name], listen. Let me out of here, and I'll forget the whole goddamn thing. It'll be just like nothing ever happened."

"No need to rub it in, [name]. I'll deal with that situation as soon as I get out of here."

"Your heart is not in this. You haven't the belly for it."

"I fear that you will have to deal with this matter in the harshest possible way, [name]. I fear that is the only thing to do."

[ar3s-r4t-qu33n]

Idfc if he's real or not, he's still worse written than Eddie. Also the problem is in his fans that are making him no guilty, innocent baby and always refering that Coyle/Eddie/Everybody else im outlast are the same. And if you think it'll work, try to compare Walker (with PTSD after war) with Franco (who is just a sicko). Anyway Barbi's simps are way more agressive than any other fans when you say something bad, what's a fact, about a grown ass man. I feel like those people are just little kids who are getting upset after school and shouldn't play the game ;) When I see all those comments with "He'S mY PoOkIE" I'm getting sick... Ya'll should get a brain

Guys look!! I got one!!

You don't deserve a response, because if you were old enough to be playing Outlast, you would be able to figure out that shaming people for (checks notes) liking a fictional character in a horror series? Is plain stupid.

It would also serve you well to maybe do some spell check before you come into my asks like this. I'd take you more seriously if you maybe drafted this one more time, but here we go:

First of all, you don't know me. You can check out my like, five posts and see that only two of em are Franco related and none of them baby him. In fact, I don't think I've seen a post yet by anyone who says "Franco is a sweet, innocent baby who did no wrong" because... That's the point. He's interesting BECAUSE he's done shit wrong. We are playing Outlast. Everyone is complex and awful and interesting. Just because not every post is marked with a little footnote that says "oh by the way everyone, Franco is a bad, bad man 🥺 I don't support his actions, I'm not a Franco defender, I just wanted to draw him being silly 🥺" doesn't mean we're all out here claiming he's a saint. The fact that he's a fucked up lil guy is why we like him. I feel like that's a given with all Outlast characters? But that's just me after being a fan of this franchise for years now, idk, being able to step back and analyse a community to see what they enjoy about something is quite a fun and easy task, I recommend giving it a try instead of coming into "loser nobody who has been on Tumblr for like a week's" asks to complain to me like I can put all the Franco fans in the corner until they learn to interpret characters the way you have decided is objectively correct.

But even if they are "babying" him and apparently ignoring that this is the Outlast series and Franco is a character from Outlast... Oh no! What horror! Someone is misinterpreting a VIDEO GAME CHARACTER what a terrible and unique crime!

Franco "just a sicko" Barbi was abused and neglected by his father, his mother was murdered, and he only ever received affection after he killed someone. But yeah, he was just born fucked up whereas every other Outlast character earned their trauma and the right to kill the player. What a senseless and just untrue take and I'm sure you know that, you just want to complain because that's all you people like to do. You want to feel morally superior over someone because you don't understand why they feel the way they do instead of just moving on and ignoring them like any other sensible adult would. Because who's actually getting hurt if some people think Franco is their lil Pookie? Is it you? Does it cause you psychic damage? Because last I checked, this is the internet. We are responsible for ourselves, so unless somebody is actually hurting anyone...

Block the Franco tag. You are brave enough to type out this whole message to a stranger online and act morally superior because comparing which video game character deserves the right to kill you is THE most mature thing in the world, so you're definitely brave enough to block the tag and move on.

You are responsible for what you see online, but ESPECIALLY on Tumblr, it is so so easy to hide content you don't want to see, and mind your own business. Quite frankly, I don't care if I come across as aggressive here. You came into my asks about a tag/fandom you clearly aren't in trying to act like you're better than the rest of us. That's pretty damn aggressive, wouldn't you say?

This is Outlast. A game about fucked up guys doing fucked up shit, and we love them for it. If that is too much for you, if the mommy issues gangster is too crazy for you but Eddie and Trager and Knoth and Coyle are completely fine, no questions asked? I don't think this series is for you. Sexual horror is a staple of Outlast. Childhood trauma is a staple of Outlast. You can't be shocked when people respond to a new character in a video game they like.

YOU are not better than me because you like Chris Walker and I like Franco Barbi. I can't believe you need to be told this, we are all in the same uncomfortable freakshow cesspit that is The Outlast Fandom, no one is morally good. No one is better than anyone else. You cannot claim moral superiority over any character because at the end of the day, I can point to Wernicke and say with my full chest that he is objectively the worst because he's a literal nazi, and what then? Are you going to tell me that Franco is worse than a nazi? The debate is over, in the list of "who is the worst of these awful people", Wernicke wins hands DOWN. The point is null because EVERYONE SUCKS HERE!!! THAT'S THE POINT!!!!

Is that enough for you? Or are you gonna keep harassing people through your alts or getting your friends to do it? I can go alllllll day, baby, you ain't making me feel bad about my interests in the O U T L A S T fandom, dear GOD, this is ridiculous. Don't fucking condescend me, telling me to "get a brain" you don't KNOW ME, I am a stranger to you, why do you feel comfortable coming onto my blog harassing me about a video game character? That's not a good look for you and now it is immortalised here. Anonymous or not, you still did this. Whoever you are, you typed that out and sent it to a random person you do not know and felt comfortable enough to do so.

That's weird.

[epickiya722]

I know people who justify Bakugou and how he behaved because he was being abused. And all I can think was how bullshit that it.

Todoroki was abused, and it was honestly worse, and he didn't do that. Sure he was a hero, but he pushed people away.

I don't mean to trauma dump, but I was neglected and had a unhappy childhood. I didn't go around doing what Bakugou did.

I will say Bakugou did get better, but it really annoys me seeing people justify his behavior in middle school.

...I forgot people do that. Even Bakugou admits that how he behaved is wrong??

It's something that a character will do something wrong and do things to better themselves while also admitting that their previous actions were garbage... that's growth... and the "fans" will make excuses for them.

That actually reminds me of a post I saw so long ago of this person being "anti Midoriya" because Bakugou cried. Mind you they were talking about from season ONE. That time Bakugou confronts Midoriya after their first class battle? Yeah, that part. Apparently, Midoriya was in the wrong for hiding his Quirk away from him even though by that time they weren't even close, Midoriya had to hide his Quirk to protect people, and it wasn't his business.

It's "fans" like that I will never get because shifting the blame onto another character does nothing for the story!

"Fans" giving excuses takes away from that character's development, thinking about it.

Their wrongs should be acknowledged just as much as their rights that way you get a better understanding of that character and why they developed the way they did.

Characters can also be a reflection of how we are. Text to self connection!

There are been people who have been abused and wouldn't treat others the same way. Todoroki is that character here. He was abused and the most he did was be isolated from the class at first.

Now, there was that moment of Endeavor angering him and Sero end up getting the worst of that (every time I think about it, I just cringe because that ice scares me). I get it was a match, but still it just... eh...

The thing with some of these characters is that what happens to them does affect what they do to others. Pointing out the causes shouldn't be used to justify their actions. It's to understanding the story.

Example: Toga had a terrible life and in turn, she ended up the way she did. To point out her bad life isn't to justify her actions, however some people in the fandom probably have does so. Her bad life is the cause that should recognized why she does and behaves the way she does to understand. Not excuses.

But what's crazy is that those same people who will defend Bakugou will condemn Toga. Hmm... I wonder...

No matter their past and what they do later, wrong is wrong. Recognizing that wrong as wrong will help determine what can be done to make a situation better.

I do feel like it's gotten to the point in fandoms that haters of a character will go "if you like this character, you're just like them" so the fans of that character feel like they have to make excuses of their wrong actions. And it sucks.

Then, like the haters, they're not really getting that character's development or ignoring it. Bakugou is one of those characters.

Haters be pressed about people actually liking certain characters instead of just moving on. There are some characters that aggravate me, but I do not care if people like them. Yeah, I would be curious as to why they're like, but I know people will feel the same about my favorites and I just move on because it's a waste of my time.

Excuse my language, folks, but fuck those haters. Acknowledge that your fave have done wrong and this whole "If you like this character you're problematic" is stupid. I'm sorry, it is. "Problematic" is on the list of words I can't stand, have been misused too much and should be taken away from the fandom.

Anyways!

Bakugou knows he was an ass in middle school, no one made excuses for it. No, folks, not even Midoriya because he even comments that what Bakugou said was wrong. It's okay to admit that he was a jerk in middle school and still like him.

Characters are parts of a story, they serve to entertain and tell that story. If you happen to like that character, then the writer has done that job in entertaining you and giving a compelling story.

Okay, I'm rambling here. Sorry about that!

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM SCOTT PILGRIM vs. THE WORLD *  assorted dialogue from the 2010 film, adjust as necessary

when i'm around you, i kind of feel like i'm on drugs. not that i do drugs. unless you do drugs, in which case i do them all the time. all of them.

does that mean we can make out?

i skimmed it.

is there anywhere you don't work?

we are here to sell out and make money and stuff.

hey, so can this not be a one night stand?

there's more than one kind?

you've got mail.

i know i can be hard to be around sometimes. i totally understand if you don't want to hang anymore.

you will pay for your insolence.

break out the l-word.

that was a joke.

what the hell...

it's amazing what we can do with computers these days.

we have an unfinished business.

what did you have in mind?

i think garlic bread would have to be my favorite all-time food.

what do you play?

it's not a race, guys!

go ahead. i'm too cool for you anyway.

i'm so happy for you.

that's kind of a big question.

this is good garlic bread.

guess who's drunk!

you'll pay for your crimes against humanity!

you have a band?

i love this song!

what's the website for that?

we're terrible. please come.

don't you talk to me about grammar!

i know you have reasons for not wanting to talk about your past.

did you make some of those up?

i could eat it for every meal.

this is impossible! how can this be?

this is only my first offense. don't i get three strikes?

did you really see a future with this girl?

step up your game.

how are you doing that with your mouth?

it's milk and eggs, bitch.

bread makes you fat?

wait, can i get your number?

they have not started playing yet.

i want you to know that i don't care about any of that stuff.

we are here to make you think about death and get sad and stuff.

what kind of tea do you want?

you are incorrigible.

you used to be so nice.

what's that? you're outside?

oh, well, that's not that bad.

you know what really sucks? everything.

didn't you get my email explaning the situation?

i know you play mysterious and aloof just to avoid getting hurt.

i have to go pee due to boredom.

call us when you're done.

i've never even kissed a guy before.

he just left.

that was a test, and you passed.

i don't know the meaning of the word.

if you want something bad, you have to fight for it.

if i peed my pants, would you pretend that i just got wet from the rain?

do you have any embarrassing stories?

you made me swallow my gum! that's going to be in my digestive tract for seven years!

everything does suck.

why can't we have our own secret shows?

sounds like someone wants to get funky.

so what you're saying is we're dating?

[barely-coherent]

Seduce Me Bros Trying The Period Pain Simulator

This has been my hyperfixation for over a week and I doubt it's gonna stop but also my body is mad I'm not pregnant so... Here, I guess.

James

I feel like he knows

He knows it's gonna hurt

But he has this sick sense of satisfaction

Knowing he can probably do better than his brothers

But he gets like 3 levels in and he's gritting his teeth and doing those really dramatic breaths

Save him

"I've read plenty, I'm sure this isn't as bad as it seem- ... I take back everything I just said. Dear, please, sweetheart, my love, no, I can't."

Erik

He probably tries to play it off

"Oh? Didn't take you to be one for pain, princess."

And then he's like curled in on himself

He does those like "I'm so sorry for every woman I've ever looked at" monologs

"This will be interestiNG!! Princess, I am so sorry that I ever doubted, oh God, any woman ever... They have to go through this... Every month?"

Sam

He's absolutely been laughing at his brothers

"It can't be that bad, drama queens. 10, immediately, I can take it."

He immediately regrets everything

Every choice he's ever made

He's doing that thing where he punches whatevers closest to him

He accidentally breaks a couple door frames on accident

Don't let him go to the roof unless you want your ceiling to cave in

"C'mon, level 10 immediately, I got this. OH MY- Holy shit, it's this bad? I'm gonna lose my fucking mind... WHAT DO YOU MEAN THIS IS ONLY LEVEL 5?"

Matthew

Seeing Sam had him scared

He and Sam would bicker a lot but he knew Sam

He wouldn't react like that unless it was bad bad

He looks at you like "Please, I'm so sorry, please don't do this to me."

But just as you put the thing on he's already like "No, it hurts"

"It's not even turned on yet"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN"

You turn it on and immediately he's like "Every month?"

Bro probably tears up a little

He understands how you're able to handle Simon now

This is so much worse

"Oh no, please, it hurts... It's not even on? Why does it hurt already? OH SWEET MOTHER OF- And you feel this every month?"

Damien

I want to say he would be like "Anyway, I'm gonna be busy all day so you have fun"

And you're like "Read my mind again, I dare you. You're not getting out of this."

And he winces at each and every one of his brothers reactions

"Ready?"

"No"

"Good. Neither is anyone when it's the real deal."

You turn it on and he's just silent

He's probably the type to do that like hiding the pain via singing thing

Like the "Oh my god 🎶 This is so terrible 🎵 I have so much respect for you 🎶"

Let's be real, he probably cries

"I'm sorry for doing anything, don't do this to mE- Oh, God, hmm. Nope, no, I'm good, I understand. Please!"

-

They all probably get a tracker for you and stock the house with chocolate in the days leading up. Their wives also thank you when they find out why they know so much.

[fawism]

From Dusk 'Til Dawn

Summary: When life gives you lemons, you don't make lemonade. You run for your life and pray that you'll make it out alive of this godforsaken, mass-infected land.

Pairings: Leon Kennedy/reader, Luis Serra/reader, Ada Wong/reader, slight Ashley Graham/reader

Word count and tags: at least 4k / canon-typical violence and your usual RE4R warnings. Slow burn, friendship, awkward flirting, attempt at humor err, slight angst/comfort for future chapters. SPOILERS!!

A/N: This is a multi-chapter fic just a heads up. I also published it in AO3 & Wattpad. :D This was originally a sole Leon fic from years ago until the remake ignited my will to continue the idea again. Note, Leon's technically not in the first chapter but I promise he'll be in the next one. Translations are in the comments!

Chapter 1: Straight outta horror movie

Filth latched on you. Its gross dampness oozed through the white fabric, violating the personal space that was your skin.

One more.

Just one more miscalculated step and you'd lose your well-kept balance, plummeting face first into the dirty, wet earth.

"Why am I even here?"

An upbeat cheer was your friend's response to your unending gripe. "You can do it! I believe in you."

"I don't believe in myself."

Sam was standing atop a boulder just ahead of you with her hands on her hips. "I thought you said you wanted to be adventurous for a change?"

"I said I needed a get-away from the city, not go hiking in this damn weather!" you fired back.

Of course you had terrible luck sliding across mud whilst traversing through the thick forest. Flailing around midway to steady yourself only did you more bad than good when your foot landed on an ankle-deep hole in the soil— you ought the universe likes to be cruel to you in that way.

Your other companion attempted to console your frustrations by extending a helping hand. "This is a sign that you should go out more so you can keep up with us." With Peter's efforts, he yanked you out of your misery and navigated you through the safety of an even ground.

"I do, just not with you two."

"Hurry, hurry!" Sam jogged onwards with a rushing Peter behind her.

"Wait up!"

You stood there dumbfounded, your grumbles of protest soon ignored as they playfully shoved each other all the way to an overview of the massive woods. "Yeah, don't mind me. I'm basically just air."

While they soaked in the presence of nature, snapping multiple photos of the same scenery— everywhere you looked were just rows of trees dimmed into the gathering fog— you busied yourself by sitting next to a withering plant, popping your sludge-filled sneaker off.

You deflated at its state. My shoe.

"We're almost there." The ever so enthusiastic Sam motioned at the path beyond. She withdrew a worn-out map from her bag, waving it off with a wide smile, before flipping it right open. It left you wondering how old the poor thing was, seemed like one more careless unfolding and she would tear it apart herself out of excitement. "It says here there's only a mile until the gates of the abandoned church."

"It feels like I'm in a horror movie about dumb teens walking to their death," you said flatly, back hunched as you tapped the disgusting residues out of your shoe.

"Don't make me drag you by your legs." Your vacant stare glazed over hers. As if she would be able to without cracking a back or two. "Look, I promise you, it's going to be an awesome experience."

"Not when we're walking right into cannibalistic territory."

"Don't worry," Peter piped up, sending you a small grin, "I don't think they're going to be interested in your guts anyways."

"Good, they can start chowing you down first."

Sam eagerly clapped her hands together. "Alright! Less talking, more climbing. Let's go."

Both of them brushed aside your worries as the paranoid talk of a horror enthusiast who has watched one too many films and began trudging up towards the murky terrain. With no other choice you slipped your ruined shoe back on, toes squirming uncomfortably in left-over mud as you pocketed your equally ruined sock.

Considering you had no plans of returning by yourself, far away from the civilization you all came from, you unwillingly followed suit with a permanent scowl on your lips.

Apparently your friends' idea of escaping the hardships of responsibility and adulthood was to trek these rocky cliffs in search for an ancient church hidden within the mountains of this remote land. Scratch that, you reminded yourself that they were nothing but co-workers who have managed to recruit you into their quest of going off-course from the trail a local guide had specifically told you not to go off-course.

The situation had set your alarm bells ringing off the charts. Who in their right minds would journey through these unregistered parts of the area without an escort?

If looks could kill, you'd be charged with first degree murder. Unaware of your glare focused on their backs, Sam and Peter chattered amongst themselves about the thrilling possibility of discovering something bizarre.

It was true that you wanted to step out of your comfort zone at least once. So rather than opting for a usual holiday inn along with the most basic, jam-packed tourist hotspots, you were convinced to accept their offer of exploring an obscure landscape with a secret underground structure.

Honestly, it wasn't that bad.

It wasn't supposed to be this bad.

You wouldn't be moping about if only your colleagues didn't stray from the original route you had all decided to stick to.

Your mind wouldn't be full of unimaginable terrors if the resident guide didn't just vanish nearly two hours ago when he made a beeline to the closest gutter somewhere to take a piss, which prompted your group to continue forward because how else were you guys going to get your money's worth from paying this trip if not make a curious little detour on your own?

No, everything would have been fine if there were no ominous grey clouds hanging above the skies, nor pitter-patters of water dropping lightly on your heads.

Peter swatted your arm at the sight of your sour expression. "Keep frowning like that and you're gonna end up old early I'm telling you."

Leaves and twigs crunched beneath the weight of your feet as the three of you constantly marched through the overgrown branches on the way.

You smacked a few out of your face. "Nothing to smile about in my life."

Sam paused in her steps, whirling around to confront you. Her hands were soon on your shoulders accompanied by a squeeze. "Stop getting worked up so much. You need to relax, okay?" Now she was shaking the hell out of you. "Breathe in some fresh air! Get rid of the pollution in your lungs."

"It stinks in here," you said as a matter-of-fact.

The surrounding environment reeked that it felt like the stench personally sucker-punched you in the nose. It was as if here rested a burial of decaying flesh and numerous crap combined.

Hopefully said decaying flesh was of animal remains, not something... much worse.

"Man, don't be lame. We don't get this much days-off from corporate so you might as well enjoy yourself," Peter huffed as the three of you resumed walking.

"He's right. Do you really have to be negative about it?" Sam questioned, craning her head sideways to peek at you.

"Listen, I'm not here to spoil your fun."

"Well you're already doing a good job at it."

"The point is," you interjected fast, "it takes zero effort to be a bit more careful in general."

She raised her brows. "Yeah, because a cannibal's going to jump its teeth right at us."

"Or some rando with a mask and a machete," Peter added, nudging at her. They both wore matching snickers. "See? This is what happens when you keep watching those crappy B-rated films at midnight."

You deadpanned at their lack of tact in comprehending the dangers of travelling on foreign roads. "When I die, I'm haunting you two first."

Not that this exchange was anything new.

It should've been half expected, them dismissing your comfort in general for their own fun. The last time you attended a company gathering, a couple of your associates were dragging you left and right to a toast by chugging multiple bottles at once. One thing led to another, with you refusing to be black-out drunk with some unfamiliar faces, then you ended up getting blamed for killing the fun out of the party.

All because you didn't like the idea of being wasted around people you didn't know. That and you wouldn't want to turn up at work the next day with a banging headache.

You didn't hate your co-workers.

Although you were tempted to wring some of their necks at one point or two, you'd rather learn how to mingle with the crowd than be tagged as a pathetic social outcast. Sure, you can stand up for yourself, but it was easier to stay on everybody's good side while you simply faded into the office wallpaper minding your own business (not at the expense of your boundaries of course!)

It's hard enough that your superiors stack tons of reports on your desk with a huge, fat date of a deadline attached to it, you didn't need another hassle in the form of people who actively wished for your downfall just because you were being a jerk about somebody's ugly outfit or whatever.

Having close acquaintances to help you out with a few workloads was a plus too.

And so, socialize you did.

"If you hate it so much, why did you bother coming?" Sam fell back in line beside you while Peter wandered ahead.

You stomped on dirt as you treaded under the bleak drizzle of the afternoon. "Because if I didn't, who knows what would happen to you two? And they might accuse me of pushing you off a cliff or something if I came back without you guys in tow."

Her quiet snort didn't go unnoticed. "Would you push us off a cliff or something?"

"Hm." Your eyes shortly closed, as if you were contemplating over the thought. "I'm still deciding on it."

An abrupt shift in the background and hasty rustling from the hills had you snapping your neck in alarm towards the source of the unwelcomed noise. Your gaze started darting everywhere, seeking for anything, anyone, scurrying around the meadows prepared to pounce on your unsuspecting selves.

You turned to Sam, shushing her with a finger. "Hold up."

"Now what?"

"Did you hear that?"

"Oh for Pete's sake," she exclaimed in disbelief.

Peter tossed a glance by his shoulder. "You called?"

"No not you!"

"Okay, I swear, I heard something." Your voice hinted budding anxiety.

"Can you please stop scaring yourself every five minutes?"

"It could have been a squirrel or raccoon on the run from you," Peter suggested out loud.

Wind breezed just right past the edge of your cheeks.

Something swift came whizzing from behind you, hitting Sam and straight up knocking the breath out of her backwards.

Your heart almost leaped out of your throat that you would have stumbled on your feet if they were not physically petrified on the forest floor at the same time. Eyes bulging wide and insides twisting together in sick realization, you stilled at the arrow that was jammed deep into Sam's shoulder.

Dark red started blooming along her clothes while she laid there stunned.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Holy shit!

Frantic screams erupted all together, cutting through the once uncanny silence encompassing the woods.

Your head shot up everywhere while you cradled her against you. Sam's trembling hands hovered unsurely to where the tip of the arrow has punctured her. She gasped through labored breathing, spluttering words of pain and sobbing begs for help.

"Peter!"

He dashed towards the two of you before you knew it, his knees skidding across the field. Peter found himself in a binding frenzy and his immediate move was to rip the arrow out of Sam's flesh at her repeated pleas.

"Wait don't!"

She burst into another fit of shrieks.

"Shit!" Peter was quick to let go of the arrow's handle once he understood his grave mistake. He jerked around back and forth the area. "Where did it come from?!"

"I don't know!"

"¡Forasteros!"

"¡Cazadlos!"

"¡Preparad la trampa!"

Not far away from your rooted position were screeches of a seemingly angry mob emerging from nowhere. Their initial silhouettes soon changed into clear outlines, revealing a group of villagers rapidly approaching armed with various pitchforks, sickles and torches illuminating their vicious nature.

Hostile gazes were dead set upon you.

"¡Muerte!"

Fear rattled you down to the very core. "Get her up! Now." Your arms circled around Sam's limbs to hoist her up, Peter did the same, and both of you began carrying her limping form with all your mights. Her head flopped to the side, signifying that she was on the verge of passing out. "Sam, stay with me."

An arrow came zipping through the air.

And another.

And another.

"Watch out!" In a matter of seconds you were tackling Peter to the ground. Filth spread throughout your clothes as the two of you rolled out of the ambush.

Long ago did you forget your holds on Sam. The force of their consecutive shots sent her flying and toppling on her back. When you wobbly pushed yourself back up to reach out for her, your voice died into a mute static, mouth hanging agape in sheer shock. Terror tightened its clutch on you as your heart lurched at the image in front of you.

"—elp."

There was an arrow lodged into Sam's windpipe. Similar ones were protruding from her thighs and abdomen from singlehandedly taking on the earlier onslaught. You watched in quiet horror as she miserably clawed at the one speared on her neck while choking in her own blood, light splatters painting her face as she gurgled the thick liquid now pooling from her mouth. Red slowly trickled underneath her, it stained the golden browns and bright greens of the fallen wet leaves.

"—go."

A different voice reverberated through the soundless background, screaming for your name.

"Let's go!" Peter's hand seized you by the collar of your shirt, almost strangling you in the process. He pulled your mind out of the water and you instantly tumbled forward alongside him. "Move godammit!"

You finally found your footing at his harsh tug and the two of you raced maniacally through the woods, never once looking back. You didn't think you canever look back at the macabre where you left your dying companion behind.

It wasn't until a few minutes into making a run for your lives did you glide into a complete stop. You placed a hand against a tree to support yourself from the hammering in your chest and to catch some needed air. "Sam, she," you uttered, regaining the ability to speak again without bile threatening to spill. There was an inaudible crack in your tone. "She was..."

Peter was just as breathless as he combed through the stuff inside his backpack. "W–we need to, we need to call for help," he stammered, fumbling with the phone that he barely had a grasp on.

Following his act, you brought out yours. Your grip intensified, stomach sinking at the screen with zero reception. "Really, at a time like this?"

"Useless piece of crap!" Peter threw the device in a brief outburst of rage. It smashed against the bark of a tree. He wound up scrubbing his face, hands moving to clutch his hair.

"What are we gonna do?" You thrusted your phone back into your bag. "Sam had the map."

"I... don't know." Peter lifted his disoriented features at you. He sniffed a bit and rubbed his nose using the sleeves of his jacket. "I don't know."

Lightning flashed above the dreary skies. The thunder's presence rumbled across a distance soon after. A storm was brewing not far ahead.

"Aprisa, aprisa, seescapan los corderitos!"

Both of you jolted out of the fleeting sense of peace, trepidation on the rise yet again at the impending horde whose sole mission was to disembowel you alive by the looks of it.

"They caught up," you whispered panic-stricken as you ducked out of their line of sight.

Peter grabbed your arm. "When I run, you run, got it?"

"Do you even know where we're going?"

"It doesn't matter!" he retorted, "We're running until we find help. Don't look back, you understand?"

You gulped, before flashing him a hesitant nod with your lips forming a tight line.

"C'mon."

Adrenaline pumped through your nerves as the two of you sprinted blindly towards the woodland.

Peter appointed himself to take the lead and was now speeding in front of you. "We're going to be fine, we're going to be fine, we're going to be fine," he continuously mumbled under his breath. It was more of a reassurance for him to help his remaining sanity intact. His jaws clenched in agitation, the throbbing across his ribs was non-stop.

He risked a glimpse at you, hoping that you were still trailing behind him. Stick together and we're going to be fine.

A violent snap echoed in your ears.

"Fuck! Ah!"

Dread crashed down on you all at once. You could feel your own foundation on the brink of crumbling at the scene playing right before your eyes that you almost collapsed when you staggered back.

Peter howled in agony on the ground, hanging on to his leg where his foot has been clamped shut by a bear trap. Its rusty maw chewed at his flesh, the teeth penetrated his muscles open while chunks of skin still dangled around the pulverized bone of his ankle joint.

"No no no." Fingers dug into the gaps of the trap as you scratched at its surface, putting all of your combined strength into prying them apart. "Come on you stupid metal crap!"

"Stop."

You didn't hear it the first time.

"I said stop."

You refused to hear whatever the fool has to say at all.

"You're hurting me you dumbass!" Peter slapped your desperate tries away. His words and actions, however, contrasted the rueful smile he had on. Peter dropped his head, his shoulders visibly quaking that you couldn't exactly discern whether he was about to cackle or cry or whichever in between. Then he broke into a series of strained laughter seconds later, which slowly but surely evolved into him shedding mild tears. "I'm bleeding."

"No shit." The blood smeared along his pants said as much. "Now help me get you out!"

"I..." He practically drifted off at the fact that he's screwed, catching himself before he could absolutely lose it. "I'm only going to slow you down."

"Peter Connors, I'm going to drag your ass if I have to!" you yelled at his face as you forced your way through the trap once again, striving to split it open.

His conviction in saving you nearly wavered at your stubbornness to let him go. "You need to leave."

You snatched him by his shirt. "Pull yourself together and stop playing hero!"

He aggressively shoved you in return that he slipped off from your hold. "Do you want to die? I said go!"

His words rendered you speechless. How were you supposed to answer that knowing what he's asking of you meant?

"Beat it before they get here! Just..."

The situation crushed you, despaired with the struggling realization of leaving someone you knew behind to their doom. Again.

It was a miracle that Peter was even capable of a weak chuckle at his misfortune, yet he did. "Horror survival 101, am I right? What else are we supposed to do?"

Your expression contorted, eyes blurring misty. There was a lump stuck in your throat, together with uncertainty that kept your tongue tied. "I'm..."

No.

"I'm going to get help."

Why are you parting him with false hopes?

"So don't you dare die on me, you hear me?"

He doubted he'd still be here in one piece if you did come back. Peter's mouth twitched into a small, helpless smile. "Loud and clear."

You ended up squeezing his shoulder, because it was the only thing you could ever possibly offer someone who would be meeting their eventual demise. "Hang tight."

Great, you sucked at comforting a man who's at death's door too.

"Now go."

He didn't have to tell you twice.

You were already fleeing from the site, like your legs have worked on a mind of their own and now they're pushing you to the limit as you bolted through the extensive land regardless having zero knowledge of the right track.

There should be at least one decent person in this place who could help you out, right?

Right?

"¡Oye!"

With you barreling your way through the forest like a madman, you didn't have ample time to hit the brakes the moment someone else appeared right in front of your path. The impact struck hard as you unintentionally hurled yourself at them, the collision launching both of you spinning down the steep hills against each other.

Pain exploded across your skull when you landed on your back after with a loud thud. "I c— I can't breathe," you wheezed, applying all of your remaining energy turning to your side, but the person responsible for your lack of oxygen doubled your suffering by pressing you down with his entire weight on top of your body.

The man stroked his head, wincing as he carefully picked himself up with a groan, "¡Mierda, you literally ran me over."

Your fight or flight response kicked in as soon as there was space between the two of you and you thrashed like crazy, causing your fist to jab him by the chin. He yelped, jumping back from your punch. You took this chance to spring back on your feet despite the overwhelming ache crossing your temples.

You scrambled with anything you can get your hands on to defend yourself against this likely deranged stranger, until you uncovered a large stone beneath the rubble.

"Woah woah woah!" He almost tipped his balance at the insane intruder rising up with a rock on their hand. "So after your little hit-and-run you're just gonna bash my head in, huh? Is that it?"

"The hell are you saying?" You hissed, vision and limbs unsteady. "Are you a member of that cannibalistic cult?!" you demanded, jutting your weapon in his direction to show him how ready you were to use it if necessary.

"Don't lump me with them! I'm not the one looking like a lunatic."

Your heated clash was interrupted by the imminent, recognizable voices from afar.

"¡Ahíestan!"

"Oh good, did you really have to bring an army with you?"

"Yeah, because I just love the attention from a bunch of crazy townsfolk."

The trade of sarcasm didn't go undetected that the conversation earned a glower of annoyance from you and a pompous smirk from him.

"Looks like we're partners in crime now, no?"

"What?"

"They hate you, they hate me. I don't think they're on their way here to invite us for dinner, don't you think?" His talk was dripping casual as if this was all routine of a typical Sunday morning. "What do you say?"

The shouts were increasing in volume.

"Okay, fine. Fine!" You flung the rock in another direction, resigning your fate into his hands. "Lead the way then or else we're the ones on the menu tonight."

The mystery man didn't budge at first, which provided you with the impression that perhaps you made a mistake of trusting whoever this guy was, instead he put his open palm out for you to— you assumed— shake?

"Luis Serra."

You swiped at him and his untimely introduction. "Save it for later!"

"Ow, rude," he said pretending to be disheartened at your rejection of his camaraderie, before the traces of his comical attitude disappeared, now replaced by a genuine grasp on both of your present circumstances.

"Run like your whole life depends on it."

[beabnormal24]

My hand slipped, here's a Gax wip

I couldn't help myself so I posted the wip anyway, enjoyyy

(I don't know when I'll finish this fic, but I'm having a lot of fun writing it):

“Okay, so Max and George against me and Oscar. What do we say?” Lando pops his elbow on the net’s pole, chewing loudly on his gum as he bounces the racket on his knees. 

Oscar stands behind him with his arms crossed on his chest, a cap messily pulled over his hair, staring at Lando’s back like a good scholar waiting for instructions. 

George shares a quick glance with Max: the only answer he gets being a careless shrug. 

“I mean-“ he says, scratching the back of his head. “Wouldn’t it be a bit, I don’t know, unbalanced? No offence to any of you, of course.” He quickly adds, but not quick enough for Max to suppress his snort. 

George is not looking at him, but he doesn’t need to turn around to know he’s rolling his eyes. 

But maybe he’s smiling with the wrinkles next to them, in the way he does when he’s a bit endeared by him. Maybe, he can’t know. 

“Georgie, my dear. Let’s put it like this” Lando says, shaking his head. “Out of all of us, I’m the best.” 

Max coughs behind him. “Bullshit.” 

George has to press a fist against his mouth to cover his laugh. 

“You are all crap. Max and Oscar are real real crap, while you, George, are just slightly crap. Between Max and Oscar, Osc is the crappiest.” 

“Hey!” Oscar protests, glaring at the back of Lando’s head as he seems to finally wake up from his open-eyed slumber. There’s a frown between his eyebrows, George knows that he’s more than aware of how bad he is, but the competitive side of him just can’t let Lando expose him so bluntly. 

They’ve all been through that. 

Lando shushes him with a shake of his hand, blowing a raspberry with his mouth. “So, it’s all a matter of statistics-“ 

“That’s not what statistics is about, Lando.” 

“Which means that it’s me and Osc against you and Max, alright?” 

There’s nothing more to say that would change his mind, so George just shares an amused look with Max and wishes that for once his height might be of help. 

They lose, terribly, George must admit that his pride is mostly wounded by the fact that Lando actually is the best out of all of them, so much so that Oscar doesn’t even need to raise his racket that many times and still they get horribly plastered to the ground and miss almost every single hit. 

Max doesn’t seem as happy about the result either, if the way he’s gasping for air and grabbing at his bent knees is anything to go by. For a professional driver, he’s probably got the worst resistance out of all of then, given how he had already started to pant after half of the first set. 

George lets himself stare at his profile for a second, the sweat dripping from his hairline to the tip of his nose, red from exertion, freckles bright under the deep flush, the cap on his head sliding slightly up as he brings a bottle to his lips. 

He casts away his eyes just as Max turns around, feeling his own face heat up at the possibility of being caught, busying his own hands with one of the bottles scattered behind the white line. 

“Next time.” Max exhales, swiping his mouth with the back of his hand. A droplet falls on his upper lip, George forces himself to stare at Oscar slumping tiredly against one of the walls of the club. “Next time we’re going to call Fernando and beg him to come back playing with us. He’s a lot more fun than those two idiots, I swear if I hear Lando moan Oscar’s name like a whore one more time-“ 

George glares at him, hoping with all his might that anyone milling around them is distant enough not to hear him. “Yeah, sure, let’s call Fernando. And how exactly would you do that?” 

Max raises an inquisitive eyebrow, mouth twisting in that way he does when he thinks an interviewer is asking the dumbest question ever. 

Unfortunately, George has been on the receiving end of it enough times to recognise it immediately. 

“You’re still his dearest baby, aren’t you?” Max asks, cheekily winking at him, tipping the neck of his bottle towards him to point at his chest with a finger. “If there’s anyone who can bring that old bastard back, it’s you. And maybe Lance and Carlos, but mostly you.” 

“Shut up.” George grumbles, hoping that Lando is not eavesdropping on them, or else he would’ve to deal with all the teasing he had desperately hoped to leave behind once Fernando had finally decided that enough was enough. 

One single year of being teammates, one single year of having to deal with Fernando’s complete lack of a filter and notion of personal space, and he’ll have to bear the consequences for the rest of his life. 

He does miss the old man, though, but they’ll probably catch up at the New Years’ party and George will have to endure at least a two hour long pleasant monologue about how retired life hurts Fernando to the core. 

“Alright lads.” Lando shouts on the other side of the court, stretching his arms above his head just like the showoff that he is. Oscar, at least, has the decency to appear completely unfazed. “It’s dinner time, I choose the place and the pizza is on the losers.” 

“Wait a second, we never agreed on that!” Max says frowning. 

“Yeah, no, he’s always like this. Just makes things up, it’s his talent.” Oscar deadpans. “But I have to agree with Lando on this one, it’s a good idea.” 

“Ah, no I won’t accept this. You don’t count, you didn’t even lose.” Max protests, narrowing his eyes in his direction. Oscar just shrugs innocently. 

“See? It’s three against you, Max. Losers pay.” Lando concludes, twisting the damp towel around his neck just to smack it against Oscar’s shoulder. 

Oscar smacks his own against his head in return, leading to a quick banter that inevitably brings the eyes of other people at the court towards them, as if being a bunch of drivers in a public space wasn’t already enough. 

“But I never agreed to anything.” George mumbles. 

“Either way, it’s always your fault, Russell.” Max teases, squeezing his forearm for a second as he shoulders past him. 

George swats it away weakly, his skin almost feeling like burning where there’s still the faintest feeling of a pressure. When he looks down at it, he swears he can see something glowing under the fabric of his thermal T-shirt, like a flicker, or even a spark, as if his skin is trying to light up on fire all of a sudden. 

“George.” He snaps his head up at the sound of his name, heartbeat growing faster in his chest, pounding, pounding, pounding- “Did you hit your head? Come on let’s go before he gets even more strange ideas.” 

George has to admit that Lando knows his stuff when it comes to eating. Perhaps being as picky as he is helps in that matter, but George still appreciates the choice of a small spot, private, a bit more distant from the other tables. 

They are not worried about being stopped, anyway, there’s not many tourists wondering about in Monaco when so close to Christmas, and definitely not on a weekday. 

Oscar is a pretty good conversationalist, George already knew that, so he spends most of the dinner talking with him about his plans for the Holidays and his sister dealing with her first semester in Chemical Engineering while Lando and Max chat about a game or something Martin’s related, probably. 

But the strange feeling on his chest remains constant, like a gentle blow against his skin, right under the sweater he had brought as a change. 

From nothing more than a distant sensation, it starts to properly itch halfway through the meal, when Max moves his chair closer to the table and their knees knock against each other, and George almost jumps out of his skin at the sudden touch. 

Max looks at him weirdly, his raised eyebrows trying to ask questions that George does not have the answer to, so he just shots him his politest smile and goes back to his glass of water. 

Too often than he would like, the itch becomes so unbearable that he has to scratch it, shoving a hand under his sweater and rubbing his fingernails until he’s sure his skin must be all raw and red and pretends like it’s nothing. 

Oscar, at least, doesn’t seem to pay it any attention, or if he notices anything weird, he’s kind enough to not point it out. 

To avoid talking about racing it’s pretty easy, nobody wants to be reminded of their respective places in the Championship, with Max missing second place to Carlos for a bunch of points, George grazing the top three but not reaching it, and both Lando and Oscar still left behind. 

They had all hoped for something better, with all the new regulations, with all the new possibilities. At the very least, they’re all happy for the end to Charles’ long suffering. 

George does not pay at all, in the end, because as soon as he makes a gesture of taking his wallet out, Max is rolling his eyes and huffing and shoving his arm behind his back saying something about being the one who earns the most out of the four of them, anyway. 

At that point, George’s chest might as well have caught on fire with how much his skin starts to burn. 

He’ll blame it on stress, he thinks, because it has been a stressful bunch of months, from first to fourth in a span of a year does something to your head and George hasn’t exactly been in the best position to actually deal with whatever was going on inside of himself without people assuming that he was bending to the challenges of his new teammate. 

Lando and Oscar say goodbye with half hugs and promises of catching each other during the rest of the break that George knows are just a polite way of saying that if they happen to be in the same place at the same time, then they should try and meet up. 

But it will probably be impossible with Lando flying from one part of the world to another doing things that they are all pretty sure he shouldn’t be allowed to do at all. 

They leave together, arguing like kids about some stupid thing with knocking shoulders and twinning heads ducked down, hip to hip, arm to arm, always doing the same thing but not quite, and George has to properly spread a hand over his chest when he’s left alone with Max and his skin starts to feel like thousands of pins prickling at it, sharp and annoying and oh so unbearable. 

It’s just stress, it’s alright, he just needs to go back home and run himself a good bath with those salt things that Charles got him for Secret Santa last month, and then, tomorrow, he’ll just have to catch up with Aleix and find the number of his therapist and book an appointment or two. He’ll detox at his parents’ house and then at the New Years’ party and then he’ll be all focused for the next season. 

Just like every other time. 

“Russell.” 

A hand wraps around his bicep, small but strong. It feels heavy on him, perhaps he lost too much weight. His heart thumps uncontrollably against his ribcage, and George knows that if he were to take a look at his chest right now, he would probably catch another spark. 

But maybe it’s all in his imagination, he’s just stressed. 

Max looks at him from the tip of his big nose, his eyes smiling with the corners of his lips as he pats George’s shoulder, almost affectionately. And it looks good on him, George has just changed his mind, the third place almost makes him seem more human, more reachable, even if George had already reached him last year (but it never felt as right as it does now). 

He likes that. 

Max squeezes one last time, knocking their arms against each other. It’s not a hug like Lando, but it’s something close to it and it makes George feel acknowledged in that weird kind of way you that only Max’s things make him feel. 

“Just don’t be a stranger, yeah?” It doesn’t sound as empty as George would’ve expected. 

Max disappears in Monaco’s breeze with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket and his head turned to the side to look at the coast following him, or it’s him who follows the coast. It’s not that simple to guess when George feels the way he does about him. 

He stares at the broad expanse of his back until he’s nothing more than a distant figure just like any other person around and he can pretend that he’s no one in the middle of the world. 

The blessing of anonymity, he muses, gripping at the hems of his sleeves. 

All of a sudden, his chest feels quiet.