#not to mention the non racing sports i watch

[drowneddinosaur]

ive gotten one too many motogp edits on my instagram and starting next year there will be a new motorsport added to my roster

[mywritersmind]

NOT SO HAPPY HOLIDAYS - LN4

↳pt.4

christmas special

part one - part two - part three

summary : You’re not a damsel, just someone who happens to enjoy the help of an attractive man once and a while. This goes down the drain as soon as he refuses to kill a spider for you. Christmas is approaching and Lando is inching closer and closer to the nice list, only if he stops mentioning that kiss.

og summary : Spending Christmas with my brothers best friend isn’t my ideal way to celebrate. With my parents in the maldives and my ex calling me non stop, I was hoping for a small town cozy christmas! I was going to get that with Max and his girlfriend until Lando Norris worked his way into the mix.

listen up : kissing! dual pov! mentions of sexual content!

words : 4157

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I thought that I wouldn’t be able to sleep. My mind was already racing after kissing Lando and my thoughts always take over when I'm in my bed.

I couldn’t stop thinking about his lips on mine while I brushed my teeth. Or his hands under my shirt while I braided my hair. But the second I slipped under the covers, honestly wanting to over analyze the moment, I fell asleep.

There was one catch though. A glaring and irritatingly obvious catch.

I dreamt about him.

It wasn’t horny or scary, it was just… him. We sat on the couch and watched a movie. I don’t remember what he was saying, just remember how he looked in the firelight.

I woke up actually sad that it was over.

⋆༺

I barely talk to Lando in the morning, there’s definitely no time for any sort of conversation revolving around our secretive kisses.

Do I even want to talk to him about it?

Yes and No. I need to understand what it was but I’d also like to not embarrass myself and become another one of his one night things.

And then there’s Max and our little friends christmas. P definitely is sending me suspicious looks when I drag her to sit with me in the back seat instead of Lando.

Lando and Max sing christmas songs the whole way to the rink. Yes, you heard that right.

The rink.

It’s outside and I've never been more bundled. In a thick pink scarf and puffer jacket, I struggle to get my ice skates on. Lando sits next to me, hitting my arm as he tightens his skates, gripping the laces with how ungloved fingers.

He ties his into little bows as he says, “Need help, Sunshine?” I blink, for some reason, the nickname catches me off guard.

Max and P are already taking photos together as I nod, not even saying anything before he kneels in front of me, “I’m not some damsel in distress, you know.” I say as he takes my foot between his knees.

His curls are refreshed, those green eyes glancing up at me as a small smirk tugs at his lips, “I’m aware. Are you worried I think that?”

He tightens the laces, “I just want you to know I can do things for myself.” Even with snowboarding, he had to carry me. It makes me feel helpless even if he does look good helping me.

“I know you can, Sunny, trust me.” He moves to my other skate, “You kissed me all by yourself last night.” He says it in a low, quiet voice. Tieing off my skates and tapping my knee.

He's not smirking anymore, just looking at my partially shocked face. Lando stands, walking away as I wobble on my feet to get to the ice.

Contrary to my walking on the ground skate skills, I’m great at skating on actual ice. I used to skate when I was younger, Max had his one thing with karting and I wanted that.

For me, It wasn’t skating. But I did find a certain love for the cold sport.

Lando however, is not multi talented when it comes to sports. He grips onto the side rain as Max and P hold hands next to him.

I snap a picture of him where he looks utterly distressed. He frowns at me laughing at him, P joining, “Lan, we should get you one of those crutch things.”

His jaw drops at the implication just as a kid skates by, holding the plastic helper. “Help me out here.” Lando reaches for Max’s arm but my brother pulls it away quickly.

“You’re on your own for this one, bud.” He leaves as P starts speeding up. The rink isn’t too crowded which is good especially for the time of year.

Lando looks at me, uncomfortable and annoyed at the kid behind him who yells at him to hurry up, “Fuck no.” I laugh and start skating backwards, “It’s not that hard.”

He chuckles a bit, “That’s what she said.”

I frown and start to leave but am abruptly pulled back by Lando’s hand on my arm. He’s let go of the side and is grabbing my arm with impressive strength.

I roll my eyes and move his hands to mine, turning around so I can face him. It’s taking everything in me now to laugh, he’s hunched over in a dior jacket as his ‘4’ necklace dangles. “Look at me, Norris.”

He looks up hesitantly, “Stand up straight.”

“Yes Ma’am.” He winks and I almost let him go but he holds on tighter, his rings indenting into my gloves.

His posture improves as Max and P pass us, but I don’t even think he sees them because his eyes are on me.

He laughs a bit at the kid who zooms past us, and starts getting the hang of it more, “There you go…” His smile widens as we start up faster, then promptly trips.

“I’m feeling humbled.”

I laugh, “You should be. You’re shit at this.” He pulls me closer and I can’t if it’s on purpose or because he just tried to speed up.

Either way, he’s looking down at me and dropping one of my hands so we both face the same way. I go to pull my hand away but his grip tightens.

“You’re not gonna fall on your face.”

“I’m gonna fall on my face.” he says immediately as I laugh a bit and look away. “I need my face!”

“Right… brings in the big bucks at work.” Lando tugs me closer and smirks down at me.

“Are you… flirting with me?”

I bite my lip, shaking my head, “Keep dreaming.”

“Oh I had a great dream last night!” He says, far too chipper for me to fall for his words. “After a quick cold shower, I fell right to sleep.”

I roll my eyes at his words, “Now you’re just boosting my ego, Norris.”

“C’mon, Sunshine. You saw me last night. That fucking movie was torture.” I shiver at the icy air even though my legs are warming up from the workout.

“I thought it was good.” I shrug.

“Yeah well you didn’t have a raging hard-” Max and P catch up to us then and Lando switches his speech seamlessly, “Hard! This is so hard!”

P giggles and takes my other hand so we’re in a row now, the boys on either side of us. I send Lando a look but he doesn’t look at all guilty, just smirking innocently.

Pietra and I leave the boys, allowing me to speed up and do some rounds without my deadweight that is Lando. “Did something happen?” P asks as I dodge a man.

“Lando almost fell?”

“No.” She laughs, “I mean between you two…” oh shit. “I mean, did you take my advice?”

Translation : Did I fuck Lando Norris.

“No!” I say quickly, “I’m not going to either.”

We kissed. We kissed. We kissed.

“Ugh!” P groans as we pass them again, “Just a little holiday fling!”

I shake my head once again, pretending like the best kiss I've ever experienced didn't happen at all. “We just argued all though the movie, he stole my popcorn.”

“You two were pretty quiet when we got home.”

I sigh, “I’m sorry that we didn’t go at it, P!” We did. We would have probably gone further if it wasn’t for her and Max.

I’m soon taken down by my previous weight. Lando literally lands on top of me, sideways, and groaning. I rest my head against the ice, accepting defeat at this point.

“You’re a horrible teacher.” Lando says as he lifts himself off me, kneeling next to me as I sit up on my elbows.

“Excuse you!” I scoff and stand, looking down at him, “You’re a bad student.”

He's smiling still, even as I place my hands on my hips, “Maybe skating really isn’t my thing.” No shit.

I help him up anyway, only because I'm genuinely scared he will claw up my body if I don’t. His hand is warm even against my glove.

He moves it to my hair, smoothing it down a bit and brushing some ice off. It’s odd and so very gentle, “You’re blushing.” He says it almost as a whisper.

“I’m cold.” Is all I say in response, skating off and resting my hands on my hot cheeks.

⋆༺

Our day goes by incredibly fast. After a movie and some take out, we’re all slumped on the couch.

“Max was totally in love with you after the first date!” I laugh, playing with my sweats waistband.

P laughs with me as Max gets red, “It’s not a bad thing to understand your feelings!”

“No, just a bit creepy.” Lando says, his arms stretched around the couch.

“Oh right, Mr ‘I don’t date’!” Max retaliates, putting his arm around P, “When was the last time you kissed a girl that you actually liked!?”

My face goes hot while I reposition myself and laugh with Max and P. I move off the couch and sit next to the fire, doing anything to avoid eye contact with Lando.

He looks like he wants to spill everything, but then remembers his audience and just shrugs, “None of your business, Mate.”

“We should set you up!” P hits Max’s chest repeatedly in excitement as he coughs, “We know someone!”

Max raises a brow, “We do?”

P just rolls her eyes, “I do. I went to school with her, she’s an instagram model.” P starts to pull up her instagram on her phone when Lando eyes me, a bit scared.

“I’m okay, P. I like my life womanless right now, especially Instagram model-less.” I smile at his words and lay back on the carpet.

“I don’t know, I’d be fun seeing you actually fancy someone.” I say, hating the idea but liking the way Lando looks at me.

“Oh would it?” Lando deadpans.

Max pours more wine, “What about you, Y/n? That asshole stuck on you still?”

I smirk a bit and shake my head, glancing at Lando quickly, “No… he stopped calling.”

“I smell a match making opportunity!” P starts.

I quickly shut this down, “I’m off men right now. I don’t want a boyfriend and even if I did, i’m all fucked up from my ex.”

P looks sad but I didn’t mean to bring down the mood! Max sighs, “I knew he sucked from the beginning! Just saying!”

Lando smiles, “You never like Y/n’s boyfriends.”

“This one was extra bad!” my brother whines, “But yeah, so what? You have horrible taste, Y/n!”

I scoff, sitting up, “I do not!”

“You definitely do!” Lando laughs along with my brother, “Remember when you went out with that guy Max HATED in highschool?” He’s laughing harder now as Max’s jaw drops.

“I forgot about him! Fuck, sis, you need to find someone actually good for you!”

Lando sits up, grinning at me, “Yeah like me!”

“Not like him!” Max says quickly, “You’ve got good friends though, Bob.” He’s smirking now, “A certain spaidnard?”

Lando doesn’t look like he finds this funny, “No.”

“I don’t know, I'm into older guys.” Lando looks genuinely horrified at my answer, “Actually fuck Carlos give me Lewis. I’m down to be his controversially young girlfriend any day.”

“Can you not drool over my coworkers!?” Lando stands, “I’m gonna grab some snacks.” He leaves and P practically catapults herself onto the floor.

She kicks her feet behind her, smiling at me, “So… Maybe I have someone else for Lando.”

I raise a brow, “No.”

Max looks at the two of us, “P if you set Lando and Y/n up i’ll-”

His girlfriend turns to him, eyeing the man, “You’ll what?”

Max laughs, actually laughs! “Nevermind. Y/n would never go for him.”

⋆༺

I’m all cozy in my bed when I feel something on my leg. I think it’s just a hair at first, until it starts moving up my leg.

Lando’s in my room in seconds, eyes wide and in only sweats once again. “Why the fuck are you screaming bloody murder!?”

My heart is hammering in my chest as I run over to the door, “There- fuck! A huge spider just crawled up my leg!”

He makes a disgusted face and backs up into his room, “No way.”

I see the thing on my bed still and hop back, pointing, “Lando!” I keep my voice down now because Max and P are definitely already sleeping, “Kill it!”

“No chance, Sunshine! You kill it!” He puts his hands up and I swear it’s just an excuse to remind me that he’s shirtless.

I cross my arms, “You’re the man!”

He scoffs, stepping closer to me so I have to look up, “You’re the feminist!”

I scowl and look back at my bed, “I’m not sleeping there.” I stare at my once comfortable bed with disgust, looking back at Lando who’s smirking. My face drops, “No.”

“If you want to take the cough P spilled wine on, be my guest.” He shrugs and moves back to his room, his bed is screaming to me, I swear!

I look back at mine room once again, grabbing my hoodie and pushing past him, “Hands to yourself.”

“No problem…” When I turn around, he’s staring at my ass.

He climbs into bed after pulling a shirt over his head. Very polite of the man I was on top of yesterday.

I try to sleep immediately but am stuck looking out the window that Lando keeps open. I can see the snow falling onto his balcony, his slides are outside and getting covered by the white powder.

Lando shifts next to me and I'm suddenly ultra aware of his warmth. I can hear his breathing and my heart starts beating faster. I hate him. I hate him for making me feel like this.

“You awake?” His voice scares me in the dark, shifting to my side to look at him. I can see him lightly in the shadows, the moon adding light to the room and letting me see a strip of his face.

He’s so close that I can see the faint scar on his nose. “Mhm.” I mumble.

“I can’t sleep.” He whispers, “I’m scared that there’s gonna be a spider.” I can’t help but laugh, covering my mouth as he smiles across from me.

“Remember that time…” I giggle, “That one halloween.”

His jaw drops a little, “Holy shit. I blocked it out of my memory!”

I roll my eyes, “You screamed like a little girl when that fake spider fell on your head.”

“Fell!?” He whisper yells, “You threw it at me!”

I shake my head, “You took half my candy. It’s called redemption.”

“I was trying to flirt with you.” He admits as I laugh a bit, “Shut up, I was fourteen!”

“Aw don’t be embarrassed.” I smile, “It’s cute.”

His groans and shoves his face into his pillow, mumbling, “You know what, sunshine? You still manage to make me blush the same as back then.”

I groan, sitting up and resting my head against the headboard, “Stop.”

He sits up with me, leaning back on his arms and looking at me, “Stop making me blush first.”

I shake my head, “It’s not my fault you l-” like me. He can’t like me. Fuck he cannot like me! My smile drops and I look down at the comforter.

“It’s not your fault I what?” His tongue darts over his lips, his eyes locked on mine. I shake my head slowly and he starts again, “What do you want for Christmas, Sunshine?”

I blink, “It’s in two days. You still haven’t gotten me a gift?”

His smile is back now, “Maybe. Maybe not. I still want to know what you actually want. Hey, if it’s me, I won’t protest.”

I bring my feet under me, getting the sudden urge to run my hands through his hair, “You're too cocky for your own good.”

“Getting kissed by a pretty girl does that to a person.” His voice is deeper, more tired. Which makes me more breathless.

His shirt is riding up a bit, the blanket and his sweats tugging down so I can see a sliver of his stomach. “You’re not gonna let that go, are you?”

“I’ll stop joking about it, if you want.” He shrugs, “I can’t promise I won’t stop thinking about it. Or you.”

I lean closer, “Were you born a flirt?”

He smiles, toothy and happy, “Yes. And you love it.”

I give in, just a bit, “Maybe.” I sigh, looking at Lando as his eyes pierce mine. Maybe I like it because I shouldn’t.

Maybe I like the idea that no one in this house knows I'm in his bed.

Maybe I like that he hasn’t tried to kiss me.

“I know what I want.” Lando swallows, leaning closer as he nods, “But I'm not waiting until christmas.”

Maybe I like him a bit more than I planned.

I can feel his breath, smell his shampoo, “I'm a very generous gift giver.” His eyes flick down to my lips as I don’t say anything, “Use your words, Sunshine.”

“Kiss me.” He leans in but I stop him, “But, Lando. I can’t- I want this to stay quiet. Just us, quiet.” He looks hurt for a second but nods.

“I can stay quiet.” He whispers, his lips an inch away from mine, “Can you?”

I gasp a bit when his lips lock over mine. His hand on my waist. He’s slow and sensual, his body pushing against mine with none of the pressure or nerves I've felt with other men.

I think a part of me was meant to kiss Lando.

He slips his hand under my shirt, mumbling through the kiss, “Tell me to stop and I will.”

I groan as he moves off my lips, kissing down my jaw and finding my neck, “Don’t.”

⋆༺

The next morning, I sit by the window of my room, reading with the door open. I have my headphones on and am so engrossed in my book that I don’t even realize Lando was watching me until Max’s footsteps heavily move across my room.

Lando watch’s his best friend join me while just slowly walking past, into his room. I hate this. I hate him.

My brother sits opposite of me, “Hi.”

“Hey?”

“How are you?” I raise a brow at my brothers words. He never is weird and casually like this and he can definitely see the confusion on my face. “Okay, I need to talk to you.”

“Go ahead…?” I close my book and watch him speak nervously. “Seriously, you’re freaking me out.”

“It’s nothing bad!” he says defensively, “It’s just…” He looks to the door and whispers, “I think Lando fancies you.” This is a very weird turnaround because he said he knew I wouldn’t go for him last night.

My jaw actually drops. Like I’m genuinely shocked at his words. “Um no he does not.” My mind goes to Lando from last night.

Lando on top of me.

Lando’s hair in my hands.

Lando’s face between-

“I’m just saying, be careful. I know him.” My brother knocks my foot with his so i’ll pay attention again.

“So do I… He definitely doesn’t care about me. Not in that way, or any really.” I go to pick up my book again, praying that this conversation will be over.

He stops me, “Y/n, I’m serious.”

“So am I.” I’m serious too. He stopped me before we could go all the way and I think a part of that is my brother's influence and room downstairs. I shut my book, “Lando doesn’t like me, he likes to flirt and he likes to piss you off. I’m an easy outlet for that.”

Max shakes his head, “Don’t let him kiss you.” Oh my poor naive brother…

“I won’t!” I laugh when I say it because I'm lying directly to his face.

⋆༺

lando

“I’m going to the store or else we will stare!” Y/n wraps a thick scarf around her neck, “Anyone wanna join?”

Now think with me here.

If the girl you went down on is looking incredibly beautiful again and asking if you would like to spend more time with her, despite sleeping in your bed with your arm around her the whole night, what would you do?

I guess my real question is, How eager is too eager?

I play it cool, pretending like I’m not jumping for joy in my mind that I've finally gotten to her. “I’ll go.”

She rolls her eyes when Max and P stay silent but I know she’s happy.

The car ride there is quiet, I convince her to let me drive as she reads off the list of things we need. The snow came down hard last night so the fact that we even made it to the store is a blessing.

Y/n is now leaning against the trolley, her back arched as she leans over it and walks. I follow her like a fucking puppy.

“Bacon.” I grab it for her.

“Olives.” I grab it for her.

“Fusilli…” I stop.

“Fusilli?” I groan, “Can’t we have Penne?”

She frowns, looking up at me as I hold the two boxes of pasta. “You’re such a child. We’re not having Penne for Christmas eve dinner.”

“Why not? It’s pesto! It’s only right.”

“Well it’s not very christmassy.” She puts her hand on her hip, her fingers tapping against her waistband. The same fingers that were in my hair last night.

“Wanna go make out?”

She grabs the Fusilli and rolls the trolley away from me. I laugh and follow her. She reaches for the wine she likes but I grab it before she can break anything, handing it to her I say, “What else is on that list of yours?”

She sends me off to grab tomatoes and garlic. I grab some mozzarella on the way but am stumped while looking for the garlic.

I finally spot it but a woman is standing in front of it, making the tiny food out of my reach. I pretend to look at something else and hope she will go away but am surprised at her commitment to finding the correct pickles.

I finally give up, knowing Y/n will be annoyed if I take too long because her ice cream might melt, “Excuse me.” I say as she steps back.

“Yes?” She looks at me with a smile as I awkwardly return it.

“Sorry, I need to grab the garlic.” She moves and I grab some, “Thanks.”

“No problem, sorry for being in the way.” The way she giggles makes my smile falter, “I like your shirt! Do you like racing?” I’m wearing an old McLaren shirt that I didn’t expect would be seen because it’s so cold out.

I clear my throat, “Yeah.”

“Me too!” Oh god i’m stuck. “I love McLaren as well.” Right….

“Do you follow indy car or Formula one…?”

“Formula one!” I can’t tell if she’s tricking me or just lying. “How about you?” And she’s definitely just stepping closer to flirt with me.

“Indy car!” I step back, trying to go but she keeps talking!

“Formula one is just so glamorous! I went to a grand prix once and…”

“Lan.” My tension is released as soon as Y/n rolls up with the cart, “Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She sounds pissed off and very dry which almost makes me laugh.

“Oh!” the woman's smile turns sour, “Don’t worry.”

“We should go.” Y/n says, smiling politely.

“Don’t want the ice cream to melt!” I agree with her and practically run away.“Awkward that she didn’t know who she was talking to.”

Y/n scoffs, “Yeah I don’t think she actually liked F1…”

I laugh as we approach the checkout and I get a glimpse of her face. “Oh my god.”

She eyes me as we put the items up, “What?”

“You’re jealous.” She looks horrified that I even suggested it.

“I am not!”

“You so are!” I laugh, “Admit it. She was just talking and you called me Lan and you gave her the stink eye!” She doesn’t reply, just finishes with the food and moves to the register. “Do you know how many men flirt with you on a daily basis! Especially this trip!?”

The worker smiles at her and our things get bagged quickly, “Y/n…” I say teasingly as we leave the store.

“Shut up, Norris.” she snaps.

I open the trunk, leaning over the filled trolley to get closer to her, “You can be jealous. It’s hot.”

She goes to say something but shuts her mouth, loading the bags into the car and slamming her door shut.

[luvsupa]

tags: gojo x fem!reader, ex relationship, fluff, angst, takes place after battle w sukuna (he wins), sad ending, mentions of blood, gojo’s lowkey depressed w.c: 1k

a/n: sorry this just came out of nowhere </3

“satoru?” you call out, squinting through the bustling sidewalks of downtown tokyo, trying to confirm if it’s really him. he turns at the sound of your voice, removing one of his earbuds, his heart flipping as he sees you—this isn’t a dream. you’re really here.

it’s been a little over a year since you two broke up. despite the deep love you shared, the relationship was suffocating. you couldn’t stand watching him come home exhausted and scarred, sometimes with blood on his clothes from the dangerous missions. it hurt too much to see him treated like a weapon instead of the person he is. you begged him to leave jujutsu tech, pleading with him day and night to escape the pain that you couldn’t bear to witness.

but the final straw was that night—when he came home, slashes across his body, his clothes torn and bloodied. watching him limp from your shared apartment to the bathroom made your heart shatter. “i’m okay,” he reassured you, but you knew he was on the verge of passing out, desperately hiding his pain from you. he couldn’t let you, his sweet sweet baby, see him in this state.

“‘toru, it’s either you leave that company or i’m leaving,” you cried, your heart clenching at the thought. his identity was tied to saving non-cursed users, but without that, who was he? he stared at you in silence, and you already knew his answer. you packed your things, his tear-filled eyes followed you from the bathroom, silently apologizing for the pain he couldn’t escape.

seeing him now, you can’t help but smile, even as the memories flood back. he looks healthier, but the scars on his face are constant reminders of his battles. “i—how are you?” he stutters, still in shock.

“g-good. how’ve you been?” you reply, your heart sinking at how tired he looks.

“pretty good too,” he says, scratching the back of his head, revealing the scars on his hands. “wanna grab some coffee? there’s a shop down the street.” your eyes widen, and you nod, a mix of excitement and dread swirling inside you.

as you walk side by side, the energy between you feels familiar yet fragile. you chat about the beauty of the night, pointing out flashy sports cars.

inside the café, you sit across from each other, getting a good view of the outside. he returns with two coffees, and you thank him for paying, though you’d always insist on paying- he declined, he never let you pay for anything when you were together.

“have you left yet?” you ask, your voice trembling as you prepare for the inevitable conversation.

“heh, does it look like I’ve left?” he jokes, gesturing to his tired eyes. you wrap your hands around your cup, feeling the warmth seep into your cold fingers. silence falls between you, heavy with unspoken words.

“i miss yo—”

“i have a girlfriend.”

his words hit you like a punch to the gut. a girlfriend? your heart drops as your expression falters. why does it hurt so much?

“y-yeah, i’m seeing someone too,” you blurt out, hating yourself for the lie. the laughter that follows feels hollow, and he can see right through you.

“baby, you’re such a bad liar—” he catches himself, the pet name easily slipping past his lips. both of you stare at each other widened eyes as he mistakenly slipped up by calling you baby. he really didn’t mean to! suddenly, the air is thick with tension. you both giggle awkwardly, but inside, it tears at you—how much you miss hearing him call you that.

“if i were your girlfriend, i’d kill you for catching up with your ex and calling her baby,” you joke, but his expression remains serious. not a smile nor a chuckle, making your heart race. have you upset him?

“i mean, you were my girl,” he says, and your mind spins. my girl. you can’t help but pout, taking a sip of your coffee, your gaze drifting outside to the busy streets.

just then, his phone buzzes loudly, drawing your attention. you catch a glimpse of “A♡” on the screen. gojo’s expression shifts as he reads the message, a sadness settling over him. he has to cut your time short. you silently whine as the two of you rise from your chairs, cleaning up any mess as you both head out to leave in opposite directions.

but he stops you. his warm hands enveloping yours. “w-when can i see you again?” he stutters, his voice laced with desperation. your heart races, wanting to cry, to leap into his arms and confess your love, but that’s not an option.

“i’ll see you around, ‘toru,” you say, forcing a warm smile. rising on your tiptoes, you place a soft kiss on his cheek as he blushed hard. he tenses, the longing evident in his eyes as he fights the urge to pull you close, hugging you and kissing you as if you were his again.

“and treat your girlfriend nice,” you add, turning to walk away. each step feels heavier as a lump forms in your throat, fighting back the tears threatening to spill.

“will do,” he calls after you, trying to sound upbeat. but as he walks away, his eyes glisten, filled with unfallen tears. oh, how he misses you.

[katebishopsbow]

SOMEDAY IT WILL ALL BE OKAY • MAX VERSTAPPEN

pairing: max verstappen x driver!reader (platonic)

summary: watching kevin and his daughter, laura, playing together at the paddock makes you emotional as you remember the love that you never get to receive growing up. max is here to remind you that your past doesn't define you, and one day you will be okay.

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, daddy issues, mentions of absent parent

word count: 3.1k

author's notes: based on the real-life event of me tearing up when i saw that video of kmag's daughter playing with his visor. healing my own daddy issues one fic at a time :)

(image is not mine)

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

Kevin Magnussen is a great dad.

People can say whatever they want about his driving – aggressive and maybe a little dangerous sometimes – but there is no denying that he is an amazing father who puts his daughters above all else. The Dane is always joking about how his two little troublemakers have been giving him a constant headache, but the rest of the grid knows that he would do just about anything for his girls.

Occasionally, Louise likes bringing Laura and Agnes to the track to see their dad at work. Being a Formula 1 driver with all the hectic schedules and non-stop traveling means that family time together can often be difficult to come by, so Kevin cherishes all the time he gets to be as present in their lives as possible. 

The drivers all love it when the Magnussens visit the track, not only because Laura and Agnes are the sweetest little angels ever, but also because they get to witness the rare sight of Kevin “tough guy” Magnussen shedding his hard exterior and tease him about the heartwarmingly softer side he displays to his family. 

And while you would never admit this out loud, somewhere residing deep within you is envious – envious of this kind of love that you never got to receive. Sometimes when you look at Kevin interacting with his daughters – just sometimes – you find yourself wondering what it would be like to have a father who is present, who genuinely cares, who loves you with everything they have so much that you never have to doubt your worthiness.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

You were standing with a few other drivers at the track, idly chatting about the upcoming race and your holiday plans now that the winter break is right around the corner when Kevin suddenly saunters nearby, holding the hand of the most adorable little girl. “Laura, come say hi!” he kneels down and says to her, sporting the biggest and most loving smile on his face as his daughter gives a shy little wave to the crowd of drivers before her.

“Hey there, Laura,” you wave at her, settling on a simple greeting since you have never been particularly great with children. “Hello, little one!” Lando greets with a wide grin as he offers Laura a fist bump, and the girl explodes into giggles when he pretends to yelp in pain at how hard Laura fist-bumped him. Classic Lando – always so good with kids.

“She’s got quite the punch, doesn’t she?” Kevin jokes while he chuckles at the sight, admiring the joyous smile on Laura’s face with the tenderest gaze he only reserves for his daughter. Becoming a father is the best thing that has happened to him, and he thanks the stars every day for being blessed with such precious gifts of life. Laura and Agnes – his biggest pride and joy.

“Here to be dad’s little assistant, Laura?” Max asks, his nose scrunching up in an adoring smile like the way it always does when he speaks to Penelope. The little girl nods bashfully before running to hide behind her dad, holding onto his hands as if he is her safe place, her rock.

Kevin laughs at his daughter’s endearing shyness, picks her up and envelops her in his embrace before placing a kiss on her rosy, chubby cheeks. “You’re the best assistant in the entire world,” he whispers softly, adoration swimming in his eyes while Laura lets out a giggle at her father’s words. The drivers around them cannot help but smile along with them – how can they not at such a heartwarming sight? 

Yet watching Kevin’s doting smiles and the way he looks at his daughter as if she is his entire universe, the initial warm fuzziness within you silently morphs into a dull ache that squeezes at your heart – an odd yet familiar feeling you know all too well. Despite your best efforts to push them away, your mind becomes clouded with hazy memories of the past – the painful past that has broken you and haunted you for years.

In the fogged-up memories of your childhood days, you were never at the receiving end of such an affectionate gaze. The only way your father has ever looked at you was indifference, annoyance, and a sense of uncaringness that tore your little heart up into pieces and left you wondering what you did wrong to be so undeserving of the fatherly love you yearned for. 

He never picked you up and hugged you as if you were a fragile treasure that he cherished. He never held your hand in a way that made you feel safe and certain that nothing could ever harm you because he would be your shield, protecting you from the world and its merciless cruelty. He never once made you feel loved and cared for, ignoring your attempts to gain his validation and approval because he loved himself and his ego more than he would ever love you. 

When you received good grades at school and showed him your report card with the rows of A’s, hoping that it would help you get his approval, he didn’t praise you. In fact, he didn’t bother saying anything. He simply gave you a half-hearted nod before shifting his attention back to the damned television screen in front of him, some uninteresting TV show that never should have mattered more than his daughter. So you stuffed the tear-stained report card back into your school bag, uncaring that it got crushed and crumpled, because in the end your hard work and effort didn’t matter. It never did.

When you had a rough day at school and came home with tears running down your cheeks, your father looked at you for a second, rolled his eyes and walked away. So that night you cried yourself to sleep as you soaked through your pillows with your wallowing tears, wishing that your dad could wrap you in his arms and tell you that everything would be okay. You knew that he could hear your sobs across the hallway, but chose to ignore you anyway. You wondered if he hated you that much, or was it simply because he never even cared to begin with?

And when he finally gathered all his belongings and disappeared from your life once and for all, you surprised yourself when you didn’t cry at the sight of the now-empty house. You had just felt empty and lonely – so painstakingly lonely. The kind of loneliness that seeped into your bones and slithered along your veins and consumed your soul. 

As you grew older, you became familiarized with that emptiness – comfortable with it even. You begin to find yourself pushing people away when they get too close, keeping most at arm's length because that seems like the safest option, breaking your own heart before others can do it because you never want to experience the same heartbreak your father has put you through.

Despite how painful it is, you hold onto that loneliness like a lifeline because how could you not when that’s the only thing you know? How could you love when you don’t even know what it feels like?

Even though it had been years since your dad had left, the emptiness he had left behind never seemed to fade away. They say time heals all wounds, but you call that bullshit, because then why does it still hurt like a fresh stab into the heart? 

Too deep in your storm of thoughts, you don’t realize the tears brimming in your glossy eyes and the way your lips quiver ever so slightly. “Hey… you okay there?” Charles, who is standing beside you, gives you an affectionate pat on the shoulders and whispers hushedly in your ear, worried at your sudden change in demeanor. Quickly nodding your head, you answer him with the best smile you can manage, “Yeah, just remembering some things.”

While most of the drivers still have their focus on Kevin and Laura, a few have also noticed your red-rimmed eyes and quietness. “What’s wrong?” Lando mouths the question silently toward you, eyes wide in concern as he tries not to shift everybody’s attention toward you. You shake your head and mouth “nothing” in reply to him as discreetly as possible, not wanting to ruin the group’s mood with your sudden sentiments. 

As much as you want to stay, you simply need to get away for a moment to recollect your thoughts. “Uh – There’s something I need from my driver’s room, so I’m gonna head off,” you hurriedly blink away the tears and put on the best smile – a skill you learned to master after years of being in the public’s eye. You hope that the excuse you just blurted out is somewhat believable, and you quickly disappear into the distance after your fellow drivers bid you goodbye. 

While making a beeline for your driver's room, you cannot help but feel so embarrassed, so guilty for the sudden burst of emotions that erupted in your chest moments ago. “What is wrong with me?” you mumble hushedly to yourself as you make your way to the garage – irritated and beyond annoyed at yourself that the mere sight of Kevin with his daughter is enough to bring you to tears. 

This isn’t something new to you. It isn’t the first time a good father-daughter relationship has made you tear up. Movies, TV shows, song lyrics – you always get so emotional when you allow yourself to get lost in your thoughts, thinking too deeply about the painful reminders of the love that you never have. 

It makes you feel stupid, because how broken do you have to be that trivial things like these are enough to make you cry? And it makes you feel scared, so utterly scared, because what if you were too broken to ever be capable of loving someone this much, too damaged to ever receive love despite yearning for it, and end up pushing away everyone who cares about you for the rest of your life.

When you arrive at your driver's room, you take a seat in the corner, breathing in and out while the self-blaming thoughts inside your head spiral in full force. This is so stupid, you are being stupid, and you hate yourself for being a fool and letting your past trauma affect you like this. Why were you even crying? There is nothing to be crying for. Stop. You need to stop.

Then you hear someone calling your name, voice faint and soft behind the door – Max. “You feeling okay?” he asks, and your delayed response and trembling voice as you answer him, “I’m fine.” are a clear enough indicator that you are far from okay. “Alright, I’m gonna come in now.” A sigh of mixed emotions falls from your lips – annoyance that you never seem to be able to lie to the man, and gratefulness that he always understands what you really need, and right now it is the company of your best friend.

“Hey, kiddo,” he says to you, eyebrows ceasing in sadness when he notices the expression on your face. Max hates seeing you like this, especially knowing the reason behind your tears is your absent father – someone who will never be worthy of having you cry over him. 

You wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your race suit, guilt weighing heavily on your chest as you apologize, “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to ruin the mood back there. Did the other drivers notice?” Max shakes his head with a frown, refusing to let you blame yourself for something you should never feel guilty for. “You don’t have to be sorry, you did nothing wrong.”

“I don’t even know why I am crying, honestly. Why am I still so angry and sad after all these years? It’s like… am I always going to be like this, broken? Will the hurt ever go away?” you explain truthfully to him while trying to piece your muddle-up thoughts together, yet you struggle to put them into words. How can you begin to explain the years of trauma your dad has left behind? How can you describe the mess of emotions you have for him – the hatred, the resentment, and the fact that you still love and miss him so much even after everything he has done to you?

You don’t need to, because Max understands, he always does. One of the reasons why you two became close quickly is because you share a similar, troubled past – something that is rather unfortunate to bond over, you would argue, but it brings you a great friend nonetheless. Max’s father isn’t exactly absent like yours – Jos Verstappen is still quite prominent in his life, along with his abusive and manipulative ways of raising his kids which he would vehemently deny and claims to be “tough love” instead.

Even though he is there, it doesn’t change the painful truth that the presence of his father has ruined Max. For years, he thought being violent was the way to solve problems because his dad always seemed to be able to solve his with his fist. He used to believe that you had to be perfect to be deserving of good things in life because he grew up with the punishment of “no dinner” if he had performed poorly in a race. He didn’t know if he would ever be capable of loving someone, and then he met Kelly and Penelope.

“You know… when I first met Penelope, I was terrified. I was scared that I could never be a good enough father figure for her, that I was too ruined to show her the love she deserved to have. But then I saw her, and then I realized I love her more than anything,” he confesses as he places himself to sit beside you, a reminiscent smile dancing on his lips while he remembers his first time meeting Penelope, the little girl who has become his family.

He remembers the suffocating fear of ending up like his father when he first held the hands of little Penelope, mind plagued with all the horrible what-ifs. What if he was a terrible dad? What if he couldn’t ever love Penelope? What if he was just like Jos Verstappen and ended up destroying her childhood with his anger and temper the way his dad had with his?

Then Penelope gave him a sweet smile, her tiny hand holding onto his pinky as she looked into his eyes with such trust and comfort, as if she knew that Max would love her more than anything in the world. Max genuinely thought he was going to cry, his heart surging with an overwhelming amount of love and determination to protect the little girl in front of her and give her the home she and Kelly deserve to have, and that’s when he knew that he had nothing to be afraid of – that he was going to do better than his father.

“Listen, kiddo. Time doesn’t heal all wounds, it just makes the pain bearable. But there will be a day when your wound will still be there – it always will be there – but the pain and the hatred will no longer consume you. And you will realize that you can be better and stronger than your past, that you can break the cycle, that you are deserving of such unconditional love too.” You listen quietly to your best friend’s answer, exhaling a relieved sigh at the words you so desperately need to hear, giving you hope that despite all your trauma, one day you will be able to love with such certainty as well.

You are never too broken to love or be loved. You are not damaged goods that need repairing. You are not a monster for being intimidated by love and affection, for pushing people away even though you want more than anything for them to stay. You just need to allow yourself to heal from the hurtful past, to understand that your past trauma does not define you. You need to allow yourself to feel, to accept the depths of your emotions, to understand that your sadness and anger are always valid. You need to believe that you will be better than your father, that you will not follow in his footsteps, and that you deserve to be loved just as much as anyone else. 

Feeling sentimental over this doesn’t make you stupid or a fool, it just makes you human. It is okay to cry over it, to be sad over it, as long as you remember that one day – while things will never be perfect –  it will certainly get better. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” Max tells you with a smile, reaching for your hand to give it a comforting squeeze, and you believe him. For once in a very long time, you genuinely believe that everything is going to be okay. The impact your father has on you will always be there. You can never wipe away the hurt and awful things he has done to you, nor can you simply erase the simultaneous love and hatred you hold for him, but one day you will learn to move on and find closure, and you are going to be okay, just like Max said.

There is a knock on the door, and you can hear your name being called again, this time in the soft and squeaky voice of a little girl. “I’m here,” you answer, and peeking behind the gap in the door is Laura with a cheeky grin on her face. Kevin leads her inside your driver's room with an apologetic smile, “Hey, sorry… Laura says she wants to play with you and insists that I bring her here.” 

You watch as Laura crawls up into the seat next to you and Max, looking at you with the brightest toothy little grin ever, and your lips begin pulling up into a huge smile as well. “Is it okay if she plays here for a while? I’ve got a team meeting in 5 and she never likes coming to those…” Kevin asks apologetically before relief floods his expression when you answer him, “It would be lovely to have a little playdate with Laura.”

“Alrighty, see you later little one,” Kevin leans down to place a kiss on his daughter’s head, reminding her to be a good kid when he is away for the meeting, and you smile at the sight. Not an envious one, or a reminiscent one, but one of contentment because you know that one day you will be able to receive and give such unconditional love to someone too.

Someday, it will be okay. You will be okay.

[natailiatulls07]

You're gonna leave me, aren't you?

Max Verstappen x female!reader

Summary - They were bestfriends then lovers but in end they were strangers left with the memories of what was

Warnings - mention of his father, mention of Jules Bianchi’s death, bad google translate, breaking up, sad ending kind of??

-

2015

Max met her in secondary school, his life was crazy. Between juggling school, his fathers harsh parenting and formula three, he met Y/n. They became bestfriends almost immediately.

Y/n was like a breath of fresh air in his chaotic lifestyle. Always patient and understood if he couldn't hang out. It did help that she knew what Max was getting himself into, her father would watch formula one and he was a big fan of the sport.

When Max got signed to Toro Rosso in 2015, Y/n was the first one he told. He remembers the phone call oh so well.

-

After a couple of rings, Max heard her through his phone. She sounded tired but would always have a cheery aura to her even through the phone.

"Max are you alright?" It was then when Max realised that Australia, where he was for the grand prix, was six hours ahead of the Netherlands. This meant that it was currently four am for Y/n.

"Yeah sorry, I just realised what time it is for you..." He tooking a sharp breath, debating whether he should let Y/n sleep and tell her later. "I have news, it's very exciting!"

Max heard her shuffle in bed. "Oh yeah, go on"

"You better be clearing you schedule because I'm going to be in formula one!!" Y/n's audible gasp was heard through the phone. "Formula one zonneschijn!"

Of course since it was the middle of the night, Y/n kept her celebration quiet. So in hushed whispers she replied. “No way! Max that’s amazing”

Max could of sworn he heard her voice break. Was she crying? “I’m so proud of you Maxy!”

-

Max swears that day was the day he fell in love with her. They were only 17 and 16, mere teenagers. But his whole perspective of her changed.

Sadly Y/n couldn’t make his formula debut but he knew that she was watching on from home. She was studying, trying to get through college and through to university.

Of course the two kept close, face times and messages became important to them as Max was travelling his way around the planet.

Soon enough Max caught up the courage to ask her out over summer break. He took her to their favourite restaurant. And whilst on the date, he then asked her to be his girlfriend to which she nodded excitedly with a big smile on her face.

Everyone was happy for the new couple, admittedly upset they didn’t see much of the two together because of their privacy and schedules.

-

2016

It was in 2016 when Max started driving for Redbull racing that he also started to drift from Y/n. He didn’t want to and it wasn’t a choice he made easily.

Of course growing up, Max saw what happens in motorsport. He knew it was dangerous and always life threatening.

Max was in the paddock when he watched Jules Bianchi crash in 2014. He knew how it effected Jules’ close family and friends, Max was friends with Charles who struggled.

He remembers being told that Jules died after Jules was in a coma for nine months.

And Max didn’t want that weight on Y/n if something were to happen. He didn’t want the press to crowd her and he didn’t want to give her that much grief.

So he drifted, as much as he hated it, he drifted away from. This of course drew red flags for Y/n.

Before they would text non stop every day but now Max barely replied. Before they would spend almost all his free time together, binge watching their favourite shows or eating at their favourite restaurant or even just napping together.

But now Max would intentionally fill his time with work, much like his father once did. He remembers looking in the mirror and just seeing his father, that scared him but it didn’t stop him.

-

Y/n had managed to get ahold of Max, she called him asking if he could meet her at their favourite restaurant. Unlike her usual cheery tone, she sounded deflated.

Pulling up to the restaurant, he saw her through the window sat at their table. And as he walked in, he didn’t receive his usual warm hug from her so he just sat down opposite. Looking at her as if he didn’t know what was going on.

“Hey what’s up?” Max asked the girl opposite him. He was scared of her, she wasn’t Y/n.

“Um…how do I say this?” Her soft voice came out still as deflated as before. What Y/n said next hit, the new formula one driver hard. “You’re gonna leave me…aren’t you?”

It was as if everything around Max had stopped. Only then did he realise what he did to her. Max thought that this was the best option, drifting away, but instead what he had done was make her feel unloved and feel like the relationship was one sided. “No. No of course not zonneschijn!”

He was quick to protest but was quick shushed when Y/n started to shake her head. “Max…please don’t, don’t try to tell me different because you are…you’re gonna leave, it’s okay”

Collecting her stuff, Y/n started to leave. Max couldn’t do anything, he knew what he’d done and he knew he could come back from that. “I love you Max…always have and always will” Y/n whispered before turning her back to him and leaving.

Max watched her walk out of the restaurant and walk home, he felt ashamed and regretful that he lost the best thing he’ll ever have. But he promised to keep her in his heart until the day that he would die.

-

2023

It was over seven years since Max last saw her but he never let her out of his heart and mind. He had just won his third world championship and Sky Sports had pulled him over to have a quick interview.

“Hi Max! Well done on your third world championship, how are you feeling?” The sky sport journalist asks whilst Max is handed his mic.

“Yeah I feel so grateful that I am able to achieve this for the third time” Max smiles politely, not the biggest fan of post race/sprint interviews but pr insist.

“Is there anyone who you feel like you owe this to? Any family? I know that your father is very supportive of your career”

“Um yeah…” He takes a pause, and then his mind goes back to his sunshine, Y/n. “I think I’ll have to thank an old friend…she knows who she is, I hope she knows that I appreciate and love her more and more everyday” Looking into the camera, Maxs heart tells him that she is there watching from home supporting him.

He also knew that everyone knew who he was talking about, they always did.

-

[rocorambles]

Final Girl: Act II

Pairing: Daichi x Reader x Kuroo

Tags: NSFW, Yandere, Non-Con, Dehumanization, Humiliation, Belly Expansion/Forced Enema and Water Sports, Mind-Break, Non-Con Photography/Filming, Forced Bondage, Sex Machines, Cow Tail Plug

A/N: Think I hit the biggest TWs, but just be warned this is leaning into Dead Dove territory and there’s a lot here. My depraved mind is clearly making up for the literal years I’ve left you all hanging smut wise. 

Link to Final Girl: Act I

Women are trained actors when it comes to fooling men and you tell yourself this is no different than smoothly weaning off the unwanted attention of an annoyingly persistent man at a bar. Fluttering your eyelashes, laughing and smiling on cue, maybe slightly overexaggerating how divine Daichi’s cooking is, you’re the epitome of a silly smitten woman. Too bad you’re pitted against two even more veteran actors who are enjoying your little act, enjoying pushing your fraying nerves.

A feline smile widens at how your muscles subtly tighten, swiftly painted over by a coy smile when calloused hands purposefully linger and litter your body with far too many casual touches. 

An eyebrow above seemingly kind brown eyes slightly arches in amusement at how you pretend to admire the interior of the cabin, trying to hide how your gaze pauses at every possible escape route. 

But as fun as it is to watch you flounder about, the show must go on. 

“I’m glad you like the meal. The eggs are actually from the neighbor who lives on the land next door.” 

Both men hide their shared mirth at how your neck practically snaps towards them at those words. How predictable. 

“Oh, you have a neighbor? Where? It didn’t seem like there was anyone nearby when I found your cabin…”

You drone on, every carefully inquisitive phrase and sentence nothing new to the two players watching you unknowingly recite your script word for word. Intermission is over and the second act has officially begun. 

Scene: Foolish girl walks right into an obviously placed trap.

It’s a delicate dance feigning interest, coquettish charms on full display while gently turning down the offers to stay up late that night. A well placed giggle here and there while you gracefully dodge the proffered glasses of wine Kuroo seems set on you drinking. An Oscar worthy rendition of an exhausted woman when Daichi playfully brings out a deck of playing cards. It takes everything in you to pace yourself as you climb up the stairs to the guest bedroom, to keep up the act with an exaggerated yawn, when every instinct in you is begging you to flee and run as fast as your legs can take you.

Safely behind your locked door, you quietly wait for the dead of night while two beasts silently prowl and scheme beneath you. 

Let the hunt begin. 

It’s been hours since you’ve heard the sound of their voices, hours since you’ve heard both of them enter and close their respective doors, hours since you’ve heard any sound at all in the house. Surely they must be deep asleep? 

You can’t risk double checking, not when every footstep you take is already an enormous risk. So instead you head directly for the door, slipping into the shadows as best you can, racing in the direction that Daichi had mentioned their neighbor occupied. 

All you hear is your racing heart. All you see is endless greenery. Yet you feel that something is following you, watching you, hunting you. You don’t dare to fully stop, but confusion laces your natural instincts when every harried gaze backwards reveals nothing but the eerie darkness of the wilderness that encompasses you. 

It feels like you’ve been running for ages, lungs burning, legs aching. Doubt and panic creep into your mind. How far did Daichi say this neighbor lived? Were you heading in the wrong direction- Your spiraling train of thought abruptly stops as the top of a structure peeks out from above the treeline. Could that be…A relieved sob forces its way out of your choked up throat as the outline of a barn becomes clearer with every approaching step. Hope fuels you to the finish line. 

This has to be the neighbor’s farm, but you falter as you draw nearer. For an active working farm Daichi and Kuroo had been chatting a storm up about this morning, it’s awfully quiet. Not an animal in sight. You reason with yourself that it’s simply because of the odd hours. Of course any sane living creature would be asleep at this time. You’re sure the animals are just in their stables and pens. You’ll knock on the door and someone will answer. They’ll help you and everything will be alright.

Knock Knock

Scene: Girl ignores all warning signs.

You’re not completely wrong. When you knock someone does answer and your legs turn to lead as familiar brown eyes amusedly scan you over.

“Well well well, doesn’t this feel like deja vu? You know, it’s dangerous for girls to visit stranger’s homes. You should really fix that bad habit.”

Involuntarily your body takes a shaky step backwards only to collide with a firm surface and suddenly arms are snaking around you, pinning you in place, an unnervingly familiar sly voice chuckling in your ear.

“That was a fun little run, princess. I’ve worked up quite the appetite.”

You cry out, fight instincts taking over your body with flight no longer being an option as Kuroo’s arms painfully tighten their hold on you while he sinks teeth into your skin, biting, sucking, marking your vulnerably exposed neck. Squirming, kicking, flailing to no avail, you let out a choked sob when you realize all you’re doing is enticing the man behind you more, tears forming in your eyes as you feel him harden, hear his lewd moans in your ears as he ruts his clothed erection against you from behind. 

You’re manhandled further into the barn, four arms now easily subduing you, toying with you as your struggles are repaid with sharp smacks to your ass, cruel pinches to your now exposed nipples as your clothes are torn off of you. Then suddenly, for a split second, you’re able to breathe, dilated pupils whirling around trying to understand what’s going on-

The barn fills with your screams as a pelt of cold water washes over you, your sobs and writhing a stark contrast to Kuroo’s relaxed smile as he lazily aims the hose at you. But before you can even think about lunging towards him you’re pulled onto Daichi’s lap, his hands cupping your breasts, almost laughably intimate in the way they knead and stroke your skin, lathering soapy suds onto every inch of you. You harshly throw your head back hoping to make contact, anger beginning to lace itself among your tumultuous emotions, but Daichi’s a pro at this, easily foreshadowing your every move. Your retaliation is countered by a painfully accurate smack to the space between your legs, exposed for all to see as Daichi’s knees hook between yours, prying your thighs open. 

You feel like livestock, strung up on display for its owners to examine, one of Daichi’s hands holding your wrists behind your back, the position forcing your back to arch, thrusting your chest on full display, the cool night air brushing against your most intimate parts between your spread legs. There’s nothing you can do as Kuroo stalks closer to the two of you, hose still in hand, a razor sharp smile splitting his handsome face. It’s humiliating how Daichi treats you like a frightened animal, cooing at you, deft fingers skillfully tugging and flicking your nipples, drawing soothing gentle lines down your navel before landing at their final destination. 

“Good girl.”

His words barely register as you let out a shaky moan when he circles your clit, your body unwillingly melting into his touch. But then you’re tensing, begging them to stop as Kuroo slips one finger inside of you, then two, the feeling of them scissoring inside of you combined with Daichi’s touches and his voice overwhelming, terrifying, delicious. There are three fingers in you now, the embarrassing sound of your leaking hungry cunt brutally apparent in the empty silent space. 

“What a dirty girl. I knew you were a slut, but you’re liking this even more than I thought you would. Time to wash you again.” 

You mewl in confusion when Kuroo suddenly pulls out of you eliciting mocking laughs from both men, but you’re not left empty for long and you shriek as the hose is ruthlessly plunged into you, cold water gushing into you, filling you, expanding your insides more than you could ever have imagined. Seconds feel like ages and you plead with them to stop, whimpering in discomfort as Daichi splays his free hand across your now bulging stomach. Just when you don’t think you can take anywhere it stops and hot tears of humiliation stray from your eyes as Kuroo pulls the hose out, a splattering of water you can’t control leaking from your clenching hole. 

It takes everything in you to not let any more water out. It hurts, the fullness almost unbearable. But you won’t give them the satisfaction- Can’t give them the satisfaction of debasing you further by relieving yourself in front of them like a damn animal. 

Except you do. After all, will power can only do so much against biology and you cry out as Daichi forcefully presses down on your stomach, a vulgar explosion of water expelling from between your legs, the harsh flash of a camera in Kuroo’s hands capturing every moment of your disgraceful fall. 

Something inside you breaks at that moment. This can’t be real. How could this be happening to you? Things like this don’t happen in real life. It hurts to think. 

So, you stop. 

It’s easier to give in. Easier to accept the way Kuroo’s cock too easily sinks into your quivering and still dripping wet hole. Easier to melt into Daichi’s soothing voice and touch as he praises your newfound obedience while they perform the same cleansing ritual to your back hole. Easier to moan, drool, and enjoy the stretch and slide of both their cocks fucking you. One at a time. Two at a time. Your mouth is also used when both holes are deemed sufficiently christened…at least for now. 

You’re so warm. Warm from the two bodies entwining and smothering you between them. Warm from the cum leaking from every crevice of your body. Warm from the graciously more comfortable temperate shower your two captors decide to reward you with. 

Eyes heavy, breath slowing into an exhausted sleep cadence, you barely react to the leather collar carefully locked around your neck, only stirring slightly at the obnoxious sound of the cowbell on it ringing as you’re moved to a different section of the barn, a blindfold wrapped around your head. You sleepily whine as you’re repositioned, your stomach laid across a plush leather surface, legs, arms, and neck supported and locked into position, your breasts hanging below you. 

Sleep is lulling you in, finally. Maybe if you sleep and wake up, it’ll all just be a dream, a nightmare. But there’s something too real about the sudden thrumming of electricity that fills the air, something too real about the dildo thrusting in and out of you, something too real about the vibrating plug being pushed into your ass, a pretty cow tail attached to it that brushes and sways against you with every limited movement you make. And there’s something too real about the devices being attached to your breasts, something too real about the suction as your nipples are milked, the vibrators and brushes inside of the plastic cups only enhancing your overstimulation.

Unknown to you, two pairs of eyes watch you, drinking in the sight of their newest pet, satisfied smiles on their lips as they watch you helplessly thrash around as much as your restraints will let you, your cries of ecstasy a sweet melody to their ears as you’re forced to come undone over and over again, a slave to the pleasure forced upon you. 

End of Act II. 

[vivwritesfics]

Rich Kids Club

Chapter One

Half Monégasque, half English, twenty two year old Y/N L/N leads a rich life style. She has her own horses, her own staff to take care of them, and a father obsessed with Formula One.

With the promise of a new horse, Y/N joins her father at a few of the races. But F1 is hard not to fall in love with. It's hard not to fall in love with the people involved, either.

Charles Leclerc x reader

Lando Norris x reader

??? x reader

1.8K

Guess who's getting an F1 tattoo soon? This gal! Aka, I keep having breakdowns and this is how I'm dealing with it.

The Monaco Grand Prix.

Even though she'd lived in Monaco her entire life, Y/N L/N had never gone to the grand prix. She was always busy on the show jumping circuit, sending her two horses flying over the jumps. But here she was, in a dress designed to look like a shirt with a chunky belt cinching her waist. On her feet she wore chunky, black, heeled boots, making her feel taller than she was.

Competing was in her blood. Her mother had done it before her. She was the whole reason Y/N had so much love for the sport. It was her father who loved watching fast cars go around the track again and again and again.

When he could, Mr L/N tried to get Y/N to go to the grand prix with him. Being the wealthy man that he was, he tried to follow the sport all around the world. Of course that meant leaving his wife and children behind when Y/N was younger.

Now Y/N was older and she had her own horses, she also had her own people to take care of them and exercise them for her. She was finally able to join her father at the grand prix.

Living in Monaco meant that Y/N knew a couple of the drivers. She knew Max and Daniel through her fathers relationship with Christian Horner. She knew Charles and Arthur through her father, as well, although she knew Arthur just that little bit better.

Before racing took over Arthurs life and show jumping took over Y/N's they were friends. They ran in the same social circles in Monaco, going to the same school and partying together.

There were benefits to being friends with Arthur. Not that Y/N was looking for perks when it came to having friends. But Arthur had attractive brothers. Arthur himself was attractive, as was his eldest brother Lorenzo. Attractive, but not what Y/N was looking for.

And then there was Charles. He was... something else. There wasn't often Y/N got to see Charles, only when she was joining her father at the grand prix.

"There she is!" Shouted Daniel as she walked through the paddock. He wasn't driving this year, but he was still present at every race.

The Australian opened his arms wide and pulled Y/N in. He tucked her under his arm and turned to her father. "Mr L/N, always good to see you," he said, holding out his hand.

Mr L/N took Daniels hand and shook it. "You too, Daniel. Will we be seeing you back in a car this year?"

Y/N wanted the ground to swallow her whole. She'd discussed this with her father before they'd left their house. It was gorgeous, a 107 year old French villa that screamed wealth. Their conversation had been in angry French, probably disturbing the entire neighbourhood.

"Papa, tu ne peux pas poser des questions à Danny sur son siège, d'accord?" She said as they put on their shoes. (Dad, you can't ask Danny about his seat, okay?)

Her father shook his head. "Ne t'inquiète pas, ma chérie. Je ne lui dirai rien. Mais je demanderai peut-être à Christian." (don't worry, sweetheart. I won't mention anything to him. I may ask Christian, though)

"Non, papa. Ne demande pas à Christian. N'en parle pas." (No, dad. Don't ask Christian. Don't mention anything about it.)

"Détends-toi, ma chérie. Je ne demanderai pas à Daniel ou à Christian cette fois. Mais pour la prochaine course, quand tu ne seras plus là pour m'arrêter?" He answered and pulled open the front door.(relax, darling. I won't ask Daniel or Christian this time. But what about on the next race, when you're not there to stop me?)

"Papa." Y/N shot her father a glare from her space under Daniels arm. "De quoi avons-nous discuté?" (What did we discuss?)

Daniel squeezed his arm around Y/N and released her. "How are the horses?" He asked her.

Grabbing Daniels Red Bull hat from his head, Y/N placed it on her own. "They're good. Beau and I are going to try our hand at Cross Country next week and Crème is having a little holiday," she answered.

Beau and Crème de la Crème, Y/N's two horses. Beau was a dark brown horse and Crème was white.

"Does that mean you'll be able to come to the race next weekend?"

Y/N gave him a look. Yes, she wanted to go to the Spanish grand prix, but she had horses to train and low level competitions to enter. "Sorry, Danny," she said. "I've just got far too much to do."

"Si tu me rejoins à quelques courses supplémentaires, je t'achèterai un autre cheval," her father suddenly announced. (if you join me at a few more of the races I will buy you another horse.)

"Tu ne peux pas me corrompre, papa." (you can't bribe me, dad)

"Ta mère m'a dit que tu voulais un cheval de dressage," he temped. (your mother told me you want a dressage horse). "Deux semaines séparent le grand prix d'Espagne du grand prix du Canada. Je t'emmènerai acheter un nouveau cheval à ce moment-là." (There is two weeks between the Spanish grand prix and the Canadian grand prix. I will take you shopping for a new horse then).

"Un cheval de niveau olympique?" (An Olympic level horse?)

"Uh, what am I missing here?" Asked Daniel, looking between the two Monégasques.

Grinning, Y/N gave him his hat back. "Nothing, Danny. I'll be coming to a couple of the grand prix this year. I just haven't decided which ones."

"Can't wait," said Daniel.

With obligations to attend to, Daniel said goodbye to Y/N and her father and left them to it as they walked through the garage.

"Allons-nous dire bonjour à Charles?" Asked Mr L/N as they approached the Ferrari garage. (Shall we go and say hello to Charles?)

Y/N nodded her head. Together, she and her father walked towards the Ferrari garage. Charles was stood outside, identifiable by the sixteen printed onto the back of his red shirt. He was there with his teammate, with cameras around them.

Before Y/N's father could approach him, she pulled him back. "Que faites-vous?" (What are you doing?) He asked, his eyebrows scrunched up.

"Charles réalise une interview avec Carlos. Nous ne pouvons pas l'interrompre," she said (Charles id doing an interview with Carlos. We can't interrupt.)

Y/N and her father stood around, saying hello to the people they knew while they waited for Charles and Carlos to finish up. Being from Monaco, Charles was Mr L/N's favourite driver. If he could have afforded it, he would have sponsored Charles. But he was already sponsoring his daughters horse riding career and couldn't find the money to sponsor the driver as well.

Finishing up with the interview, Charles and Carlos turned again.

Mr L/N was quick to rush forward towards the Monégasque. "Bonjour, Charles! C'est un plaisir de vous revoir!" He shouted (Hello Charles! It is good to see you again!)

Turning around, Charles looked at the L/Ns with a red face. "Monsieur L/N, comment allez-vous aujourd'hui?" (Mr L/N, how are you today?) he asked and turned towards Y/N. "Hello, Y/N."

When Y/N and Arthur had first become friends and Charles was on the karting circuit, he had insisted that Y/N spoke in English whenever they conversed. With her mother being English, Y/N was fluent, which helped Charles to practice speaking the language. Ten years later and the habit hadn't died.

Charles had a conversation with Y/N's father in French. It was a long conversation, one Y/N tried to pay attention to. But she was concentrating on her fathers promise of a new horse. What colour would she look for? How big would it be? Would she finally get a mare or another boy? She couldn't wait.

"How is Crème de la Crème and Beau?" Asked Charles, turning his attention to the show jumper. With the way he was looking at her, it was hard for Y/N not to feel bashful.

"They're good. If Beau has gotten a bit bigger since the last time you saw him."

When they were younger, Y/N had invited Arthur to meet her horses a couple of times. Charles had picked Arthur up once and had the chance to meet the horses. Beau was a baby then, just a year old. Y/N hadn't started his training yet.

"You could come and see him in summer break, if you'd like."

Let the ground swallow her up now.

But it didn't deter Charles. He kept talking, asking her questions that Y/N happily answered. She tried to ask him, but it was easy to get tongue tied around Charles.

As they spoke, Charles' teammate walked behind them. He said a quick hello but continued on. Charles suddenly laid his hand on Y/N's shoulder and pushed her after the Spaniard. "Carlos! Have you met Y/N L/N yet?" He asked.

Carlos turned around.

Y/N had seen him before through social media. He was at the last race she attended, but he was in Renault then. Y/N didn't get to meet him, and then she had to stop coming to the races all together.

"You are Mr L/N's daughter?" He asked, pointing back to Y/N's father.

She nodded her head. "Oui, yes. He's finally dragged me along to our home race." She laughed awkwardly, and Carlos was polite enough to laugh with her.

"How are you finding it so far?" He asked.

Y/N didn't think the conversation was go any further than it had, not with how awkward she was being. But she couldn't help it. Carlos was an attractive man and attractive people made her nervous. But, then again, who doesn't get nervous around people they find attractive.

"I am enjoying it. I'm looking forward to seeing you boys race," she answered.

"Have you always been a Ferrari fan?"

Y/N had. But, as Sebastian Vettel had once said, everybody is a Ferrari fan.

"Y/N, chérie, allons chercher nos sièges!" (Y/N, honey, lets go and find our seats) Her father shouted, pulling her attention away from the boys in red.

Y/N nodded to her father and turned back to them. "It was lovely to meet you," said Carlos. He took her hand and kissed the back of her palm.

Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, Charles walked back to her father. "Perhaps I could see you after the qualifying," he said as he walked her over.

"Of course, Charles. I'd like that very much."

Y/N's Instagram:

[noahkahansversion]

i cry over the haas boys constantly, cry about lance stroll, cried about logan, cried about the carlando podium, cry about daniel being outshined by yuki, cry about liam lawson not getting a seat even when he was outperforming yuki, cry about lewis and nico, cry about lew to ferrari, cry about every mention of jules, like im such a crier

-this was my rant to my friend about a tiktok i saw saying they cried over the drivers a lot, and just yeah. of course i cry over the drivers all the time. i cry over everything.

AS WELL!! I watched the Melbourne grand prix last night, it’s the first race I’ve ever watched and honestly? I’m so happy my first race was a non redbull win! It was so so cool, and the ferrari team all singing the italian anthem together at the end? like driving me insane this sport is so gorgeous guys. i just love it so much. also go aston martin, really sucks about the fernando penalty but did kinda look like he was breaking early. george russell crash 😭 the panic in his voice over the radio calling for a red flag? so so heartbreaking, i was so scared for him. i’m really proud of haas for getting two cars in the points, slay for yuki for getting points, shame for williams after all they’re shit about taking logan out of the car just to not get points, and then more horrid pit stops for stake/kick/sauber whatever they’re called! and alpine, driving their tractors.

[lewisinho]

✨lewis hamilton’s most underrated mercedes drives ✨🏎️

as promised, part 2 with some mercedes drives (by all means not an exhaustive list, but at the very least i hope, a worthy one); lewis’ mclazza drives collection for those interested: here

fav lil’ guy finally free from the clutches of ron dennis and mclaren, handed some rocketships, reunited with blond guy named nico and entering his domination era; live laugh love achieving zen era comes much later; this is lewis hamilton who is ready to fight god and anyone who stands in his way; there’s a ruthlessness to him and his driving, which he will use and he will use it well, he’s talented and good, you watch lewis in a car that can perform and it’s just such a pleasure to witness what he is capable of doing; he is a racer, first and foremost, and he is obsessed with winning, i mean obsessed, the way he celebrates every single win like it’s his very first; he loves and bleeds this sport, even if it can be incredibly cruel to him (and still is, to this day). and btw still the king of the fucking circus, don’t you forget it. chasing your own destiny and creating a myth out of your legacy, you know when david bowie said i always had a repulsive need to be something more than human… yeah lewis who’s afraid of not doing enough, of not being enough, he cannot remain human, he must be something more, he needs to be the best and he wants it more, and you know for a man who has ‘divine love’ tattooed on his hand, what does a narrative mean? for someone who believes that what he does is an art form and who describes racing as a spiritual experience, one must presume there is some form of divinity he believes he can obtain,,,anyway 🙃, allons-y: 

hungary 2014 🇭🇺 aka the usual hamilton hungarian cook sesh’ (he’s a bit insane around this track ngl)

arguably his most underrated non-win drive; pitlane start to p3 and features radio gold such as ✨i’m not slowing down for nico ✨💅 iconique if you ask me; the racing gods decided to plague him with brake issues and a hot seat burning his ass on top of his car already catching on fire during quali (give this guy a break lmao); everything was against him, and he still got a podium. also his overtakes during this race...and specifically THAT overtake on jev *chefs kiss*. i also endorse his criminal behaviour and his last-lap shenanigans with nico as well. 10/10 no notes.

silverstone 2015 🇬🇧 aka cloud watching pays off

lewis at silverstone. yeah. but add a bit of spice in the form of english weather™️. instincts of a man from stevenage and one prescient decision to pit for inters at just the right time before the heavens opened and you get a win by 11 seconds ahead of the next guy and a whole field of cars scrambling in the wet. luck or genius? they asked. 'i can see the clouds over stowe'. he saw the clouds and nico approaching, pulled the trigger on lap 43 and won the race, so you tell me. also features some celebratory donuts (he was so happy after the race, silverstone means a lot to him and you can really tell) and bono soaking wet on the podium 😁

brazil 2016 🇧🇷 aka the interlagos saga continues

whatever max verstappen was doing to nico rosberg in this race is one thing (objectively hilarious), but lewis hamilton, you see he won that race; babes after the race said he was watching the screens around the track while driving in the brazilian downpour, unbothered, incredibly moisturised, happy, very much in his lane, focused and flourishing; and as mentioned in lewis’ underrated mclaren drives post, lewis at interlagos is special, the lore, the myth of it all runs deep, and this is the first time he’s won! in the pouring rain, while trailing in a championship he will eventually lose, he’s finally achieved a dream he’s had: winning in brazil; the red flag period also features baby sharl nervously glancing at lewis in the haas garage (who’d have thought they’d trauma bond over a dsq in austin 7 years later…)

abu dhabi 2016 🇦🇪aka anarchy

yes, i included this race because i stand with my cancelled wife; they were calling for his ass to be fired after the race, paddy lowe was screaming in his ear to speed the hell up, blasphemy, heresy, how dare he disobey his team, how dare he want to win the championship! anyway, like yeah ofc it wasn’t entirely respectful, but it’s racing at the end of the day; a driver will prioritise himself, and lil’ war criminal lewis, i adore you very much (he had horner defending him lmfao while torger was sending him to red bull); the shitstorm in the media afterwards, goodness gracious tho; no wonder lewis and toto needed a sit-down in toto’s kitchen lol; but it’s such a beautifully well-managed race; of course he could go faster, of course he knew exactly what he was doing slowing down and speeding up in just the right places…all in one desperate but masterful attempt at winning the championship; in the end, it wasn’t in his hands, but it is still a great race to watch purely for the mind fuckery and mercedes being absolutely pissed. also, it’s very much an end of an era.

monza 2018 🇮🇹 aka one man and his machine against a nation of ~60 million people

maybe 'underrated' is the wrong word to use for this one in all honesty, people give his ‘18 post-summer break run its due honours, because this is lewis destroying the hopes and dreams of the tifosi, sebastian vettel and the ferrari establishment with maurizio arrivabene at the helm race by race, lap by lap; it’s lewis at arguably, his strongest yet, he danced in that w09, those magnificent quali laps, those races that he dominated from start to finish...but monza, oh monza, maybe there’s something so poetic about that race and starting the run of domination in ferrari land; it’s got lewis vs kimi!!! nostalgia merchants will absolutely adore this one because it’s just like those ‘07 races, also brilliant strategy from merc and lewis and his incredible, jaw-dropping race pace driving like a man possessed 

hungary 2019 🇭🇺 aka the infamous one that inspired spain '21

when lewis arrives at the hungaroring, you know the man is about to cook something worthy of a michelin star. add a two-stop strategy masterclass from one james vowles and you get an absolute classic of a race and if you know what happened just a week earlier (the trials and tribulations of hockenheim), it also feels like redemption; two cars fighting for the win, lewis banging in quali lap after quali lap as he hunts down max; clinical, faultless, and brilliant and it’s such a satisfying race to rewatch (bonus: there’s also jv on the podium and lewis looking incredibly proud)

spain 2020 🇪🇸 aka the pure brilliance of lewis and the w11

jallison’s monster, w11. when she first appeared in fp1 on a friday morning in southeastern austria, best believe the first notes of the imperial march already sounded prophetically around the styrian alps. an icon, a legend, she was the moment and we miss her dearly. pair her with one lewis hamilton, a man on a mission both on track and off it, and you will produce sexiness. purple helmet + black w11 legendary combo, the sheer cunt serving, the audacity, THE presence; i could mention any race from 2020 (notably, tuscany and portugal bc they fly under the radar as well in terms of lewis' performances) but i will add spain to this list, mostly because of what lewis said post-race about what he experienced during the race and why it epitomises the brillance of him as a driver: "i was just in a daze out there", "i was in a different zone then, didn't know it was the last lap" ; you don't reach perfection, but you chase it (as he also mentioned in the press-co), but there's something quite sublime in seeing him deliver such a performance, when he himself is left well, stunned; this is the race that could be lewis hamilton's 90 minute masterclass on tyre management.

hope you enjoyed these vroom vroom recs; might still yet do a merc 2.5 post cause there are a few other drives that also deserve a mention 💜🏎️

[deathonthe]

mona lisa's smile | 1418

pairing: fernando/lance

rating: teen and up

word count: ~7000

tags: pre-relationship, 2021 season, non-driver lance au

summary:

Two-time world champion. Robbed from his third. A villain’s making—a slow descent from glory, trajectory fixed on an unfulfilling end. Back from his sabbatical. Fernando Alonso.

director's cut:

don't let my ramblings influence ur interpretation of the fic!

these are my notes/reflection on the fic. they don't have to be urs. different minds can come to different conclusions that are equally fantastic!

mona lisa's smile is supposed to disappear when u view her directly, but out of ur peripheral, she is always smiling mysteriously (eerily). i thought it was fitting given the characterisation of lance and the facade he kinda keeps up in the fic

my obvious issue is that since it is an incomplete fic, the focus on lance and esteban's friendship overshadowed his developing one with fernando

i thought the risotto scene was corny, i'm glad people liked it

yes, it's written so that u can't really tell if someone's talking about something or somehow implying it or thinking it

i'm impartial to when people portray lance as having daddy issues and lawrence being a bad father. obviously i don't know jackshit about lance's relationship with his dad, but i wanted to depict it in a positive light this time around

whether or not scotty was going behind chloe's back with daniel is up to u. i couldn't decide whether he would or wouldn't so i left it vague

i don't know shit about ice hockey. i had to google who the canadiens were. they're not mentioned more because i couldn't be stuffed doing more research

i back read way too many articles about lawrence buying racing point, because i thought the dts portrayal was a bit inaccurate

lance and esteban do speak french when they're together so i'm glad i at least got that part of their characterisation correct

i actually started taking duolingo lessons for french because of this fic

the style is choppy on purpose because i hate grammar and tense

the line of 'offers security physically in the only way he knows how' is not implying that lance fucks este. i think lance often grabbing parts of himself to kinda subconsciously reassure himself, i tried to transfer that vibe into his friendship with esteban

to be clear, fernando does not give a shit about lance really until he meets him again when lance is like 20/21

the part that goes 'lance had watched from the grandstands that day. the crowd roared. he hadn't thought much of it' was actually regarding fernando's abu dhabi retirement donuts, and not him winning in spain in 2013

if misappropriating classical writing in my trashy fics was a crime, i would be on death row

at this point, it is not clear whether fernando is approaching lance as part of his El Plan or if he's genuinely interested in him

re: esteban and pierre possibly both being in renault. hindsight is a beautiful thing

fernando's "we are like lions. podiums soon" is another reference to the iliad. i wasn't sure if the implication was strong enough

i was originally going to scrap the 'must've misheard italian for indian' line because i wasn't sure if it would offend people

in the risotto scene, sebastian is actually oblivious as to what's happening. he's not pretending to be. he is fully unaware

my most despised line in this fic is: a son of a billionaire he may be, but a waster of food he is not. i think it's too cheesy and doesn't fit with the style of the fic. looking back now, i'm not sure why i kept it

i think the 'lance's lack of passion' character choice stems a lot from how f1 fans think lance is somehow detached from the sport and doesn't really care for it as much as, let's say, fernando or max, who are always very clearly enthusiastic about racing. it's probably also got something to do with lance's 'monotonous voice' that people like to complain about. it's ok, though, because lance is plenty expressive in his face and body language

fernando's post-race interview after his bahrain dnf is an amalgamation of some of the actual post-race interviews he's given

my favourite line in this fic is: Un jour, vous en ferez l'expérience. Cela fait battre votre cœur pour la première fois et votre cœur ne cessera de battre après. too bad it had to be in french

the ass-tap was inspired by the video of fernando congratulating lance after lance got p3 in the wet qualifying for brazil 2023 (i believe, need to double check on that)

the aston engineer is 100% suspicious about lance and fernando

thanks for putting urself through all of that!

[gottagobackintime]

You want me to go full on crazy Tedependent theorist? Because I will, I will go full on crazy Tedependent theorist. What do I have to lose? (Except my dignity but that’s non-existent to begin with so 🤷)

Ted once said this: "I remember being a little kid, sitting in front of the television and watching Queen perform right over there during Live Aid."

He has a moustache that resembles Freddie Mercury’s. He’s even brought up the whole back story as to why he has it. (Also being told that he shouldn’t have a goatee right before he walks down the aisle and then he decided on this moustache and he never looked back…) in the same speech he says “Since I was a straight fella in Middle America working in sports.” Which leads me to episode 11.

In this episode they mention that Freddie Mercury owned Richmond briefly in 1980 and that he tried having “Fat Bottomed Girls” as the team’s song. And Rebecca tells Keeley and Higgins that her father went to art school with Freddie and that Freddie supposedly said that his greatest talent was “flipping straights”. So young Ted saw Queen perform at Live Aid and then when he was older he grew a moustache similar to Freddie Mercury’s? 🤔

Then we have the song in itself. You know who wrote “Fat Bottomed Girls”? Brian May. Who famously has fantastic, long hair.

Whose hair was brought up for the first time, explicitly, in the show this episode? Trent’s hair. And it was brought up by Ted’s mum. And Ted has previously commented on hair as something he seems to like. (He kind of alluded to Trent’s hair in the second episode of the third season but he never outright states that he likes it. And Trent asks Ted if he assumed that Trent could ride a bike because of his hair and the whole vibe). And I’ve talked about hair in THIS POST but the gist of it is that hair has been referenced before, in relation to romantic couples with Roy and Keeley, Higgins and his wife, Sam and Rebecca.

I can’t verify this quote because I don’t have the magazine. But I’m adding it here anyway:

May told Mojo magazine October 2008: "I wrote it with Fred in mind, as you do especially if you've got a great singer who likes fat bottomed girls… or boys."

“Fat Bottomed Girls” is also connected to the song “Bicycle Race”, written by Freddie Mercury, they were released as a single together. And they both reference each other. “Bicycle race” is sometimes viewed as a metaphor for being bi. (Sport as a metaphor, anyone?)

Who doesn’t know how to ride a bike? Trent. Who has a moustache similar to Freddie Mercury? Ted. Who might be bi? Ted.

Look, I told you it’s crazy but I couldn’t help myself. I’ve talked about Queen/Freddie Mercury in relation to Ted before. So I couldn’t let this opportunity pass me by.

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

Sanctuary part 2

Chapter 11: Mando’ad

A/N: My kids are at their dad’s this weekend and it dawned on me that I haven’t posted a chapter! My weeks are so busy in the run up to the stupid summer holidays 🤣 got the delight of sports days next week. Oh. Yay.

Mando’a translations:

Aiwha-bait - derogatory term for Kaminoans

Di-kut - equivalent of idiot

Me’sen - ship

Osik - equivalent to shit

Uj’alayi - is like a sticky cake. (Also where Fi gets his nickname uj’ika (little cake as a literal translation) for Stitch.)

Shabuir - motherfucker

Aruetii - non mandalorian, outsider

Warnings: 18+, mentions of experiments, many feelings, probably incorrect interpretation of legend clones, repeat of info we’ve already had but the Batch hasn’t.

Word Count: 5.5k+

Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12

Masterlist

1 month since Setron

“Uh, Tech?” Wrecker looked out of the open ramp, his helmet kicked up to his forehead.

“Yes?”

“You said this was a…town?”

“I distinctly clarified it as a settlement.”

“Don’t look like much,” Wrecker grumbled. Tech walked past the bigger clone, glancing outside and giving the smallest of shrugs under his armour.

“It is what some people might call, a backwater settlement. Which is perfect for us.”

“Tech’s right.” Hunter appeared, checking his vibroblade by drawing it from the vambrace slightly. “It’s remote, away from the Imperial occupation and we can stock up on supplies. We might even blend in.”

Wrecker scrunched up his face. “Doubt I can.”

“Being a Mandalorian is a choice,” Tech called from the cockpit. “Not a race.”

“C’mon Wrecker. Sooner we get supplies and fuel, the sooner we can continue looking for them.”

Them. You and Omega thrown together in one word. It protected Hunter from feeling the slice of agony whenever he said your names. It never dulled, that sharp edge of his guilt.

Hunter had noticed, since Setron, Tech opened up more. He spoke to his brothers about his previous searches rather than hiding away and suffocating in his own loss. Tech now looked at them as fellow sufferers. Hunter knew you had been a blow for the whole squad, but Tech felt it the most. Omega, they all felt on the same level, and Hunter assumed that was Tech’s reasoning as well. He just needed the time to process it all.

Apprehension gripped Hunter’s stomach more than he would ever admit to Wrecker. They left Tech with the ship, letting him work on some systems that had thrown up an error in their last hyperspace run. Mandalore had been the nearest planet they could land safely and discreetly.

The ship was tucked behind a bank of trees, a few klicks north of the settlement, Enceri. They were flanked by a forest and there was a lake nearby, not how they imagined Mandalore at all.

“Feels weird,” Wrecker started, glancing over at Hunter.

“I know,” Hunter breathed. He could feel that telltale crawling sensation at the back of his neck as they approached the muddy road which seemed to be the main throughway. They were being watched.

A market stretched along the well used path, dotted with some shops and a cantina all surrounded by residential buildings. Speeders were parked up or being used to haul items or people.

And everyone was geared up. Armour of all colours, designs, men and women, even children. Some with their helmets covering their faces, others were holding them in a way that Hunter found achingly familiar. All turned to observe the strange newcomers. Hunter kept himself walking, cautiously taking stock of his surroundings, Wrecker large and imposing just one step behind.

He had questioned Tech if this as a good idea, coming to a planet of people that would start a fight if someone looked at them wrong, but they’d had no choice. Supplies were low and this was the nearest, Imperial empty, landing site. Tucked away in the northern hemisphere, they should be able to come and go — hopefully — unnoticed.

Hunter approached the black doors of the cantina, tracking mud into the run down establishment. He noticed the lull in conversations at their entrance. Considering it was a trading post, it didn’t seem like they got many outsiders in these parts. People openly gawked at their armour, eyeing Wrecker’s size with a little trepidation. Some with an open challenge in their glare.

The elderly woman at the bar watched their approach, her eyes narrowed almost to slits. Hunter squared his shoulders and tucked away everything that made him human. Slipping into his soldier persona, his senses tingled when someone entered behind them.

For a beat, the women made no attempt to acknowledge them beyond staring, but when she spoke Hunter wished he had brought Tech. Her scowl deepened the wrinkles on her face, the same words falling from her but in a sharper tone.

“What do we do?” Wrecker whispered via the internal com, easing himself into a position that attempted to block the interaction from the nearest tables.

“Do you know the best place to buy supplies?” Hunter asked the barmaid. He didn’t expect her mouth to twist with mistrust. Her arms crossed and Hunter heard the scrape of a chair on the uneven floor. His fingers flexed, ready to pull his weapons if needed.

He knew a handful of Mando’a due to Echo and you, and he didn’t think calling the barmaid a di’kut would do him any favours. Her wizened gaze slid to the side, asking a rough question to a mandalorian that had appeared beside them. He nodded and replied in kind, holding up a gloved hand showing three fingers. She tutted and breathed a word that sounded like aruetii. Not that Hunter had any idea what that meant.

“Come and sit with me,” the Mandalorian said, jerking his head to highlight an empty table in the corner. “Your size is making people nervous,” he said with a chuckle, clapping Wrecker on the shoulder. The brothers exchanged looks through their helmets, not really having a choice when the stranger pointedly waited at the table for them.

The chair creaked alarmingly under Wrecker’s larger frame, but Hunter’s attention was on the Mandalorian. He had taken off his helmet, revealing messy dark blonde hair and a beard. His eyes roamed over them knowingly, and he seemed utterly at ease. The helmet was placed on the table, his arm spread across the back of the empty chair.

“You’re from Coruscant,” Hunter observed quietly, puzzled by the man before him. His accent was twisted. But the crispness of Corscanti was there still.

“Once.” He nodded and smiled at the barmaid when she dumped three drinks of something black and strong smelling on the table followed by three high sided bowls of food that looked like red soup. Hunter and Wrecker sat their stiffly, not wanting to take their helmets off and reveal their faces. “You’re safe here,” the stranger said dismissively. “Eat.”

“We don’t even know your name,” Wrecker’s voice was low and gravelly, his attempt at talking quietly.

“Call me Bardan. And you are…?” Hunter stared at the cups and bowls. He could see some people still glancing their way, but since Bardan had sat with them, attention had shifted away. Carefully, he slipped his helmet off, placing it on the table.

“I’m Hunter, this is Wrecker,” he explained. Bardan barely looked at Hunter’s face, already eating the soup he’d ordered. “S’good,” he mumbled, pointing at the dishes. “Eat.”

Wrecker followed suit, putting his helmet on the table and dragging a bowl closer to him. “Starvin’,” he mumbled, giving Hunter a sheepish look before tucking in.

Hunter was burning to ask questions, his mouth opened to start when someone else swept into the cantina. Making a beeline straight for their table. He cut an imposing figure in a blue set of armour, waving a hand at the barmaid and then patting Bardan heavily on the shoulder as he sat down. He had no qualms about removing his helmet, revealing a face that Hunter and Wrecker knew all too well.

“Bard’ika,” he said in greeting. “Don’t look so stunned,” the newcomer grinned. “Not seen a face like mine before?”

“You’re a reg,” Hunter observed. Bardan didn’t seem phased by his companion being a clone and it explained his uninterested reaction when Hunter and Wrecker took their helmets off.

“Ouch. A reg huh?” The conversation paused as a new drink and soup were delivered to the table. “I think you’ll find I am no ordinary, reg.” Hunter threw his memory back to Kamino. He knew of the Gen ones, like Rex. ARCs, Commandos… the Batch were slightly younger, trained separately from the bulk of the GAR so they could hone their unique talents. He vaguely recalled a mention of some specialist squads, black ops that worked like his squad had done. “Name’s Mereel.”

Bardan lazily gestured when he introduced them. “Big guy’s Wrecker. This is Hunter.”

“Ah,” Mereel nodded, understanding dawned in his liquid gold gaze. “You’re 99s, I heard you’re as defective as us Nulls. Of course, the Kaminoans designed you that way. We were a mistake.” Hunter pushed his bowl of soup towards Wrecker who took it silently and began to eat it.

“You were trained by the Mandalorians in Kamino?” Mereel took a swig of the black drink before responding to Hunter.

“We were.”

“What are you doing out here?” Wrecker asked.

“Living,” Bardan replied, nursing his own drink. Hunter leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

“You are trying to find out why we’re here. We just want supplies and then we’ll be on our way.”

“You’re looking for someone,” Bardan hunched over his ale, noticing the way both the clones tensed at his words.

“What’s it to you?” Wrecker rumbled, clearly on the defence.

“You’re not with the Imperials,” Bardan observed. “You’re clones, yet I feel a sense of urgency from you both.”

“Like I said,” Hunter lowered his tone and stressed each word. “We want supplies and then we will leave.”

“At ease,” Mereel told him. “You’re safe here, as long as you don’t tell anyone else you can’t speak Mando’a,” he let out a rough laugh. “We can give you supplies. Your ship is on our doorstep and Kal’buir wants to meet you anyway.” Something clanged in Hunter’s memory at the word but he couldn’t place it. Not now.

“This feels like a trap,” Wrecker whispered to Hunter, as Bardan and Mereel stood up and gathered their helmets, talking between themselves.

“They know where our ship is. What if they have Tech?” Hunter worried, picking up his own helmet. “We need to see this through.” Wrecker blew out a breath, clearly unhappy but like Hunter, he couldn’t see another option either.

Mereel and Bardan walked with them back to the ship. Occasionally Mereel would ask a question, easily drawing out a laugh from Wrecker with his easy smiles and personable approach. Hunter stayed wary. He wanted to see Tech was unharmed before he even considered trusting these people. Even if they were clones.

By the time the Marauder materialised through the trees, Hunter could feel the tension in every line of his body. He didn’t wait, charging up the still open ramp only to find Tech beneath a console in the cockpit. Wires hung down, his gloved hands twisting them, not acknowledging Hunter at all.

“Tech.” He was relieved to see his brother unharmed and seemingly oblivious to everything around him except the ship.

“I am fixing the sensor array wiring,” Tech answered as if that explained anything. “Was the supply run successful?”

“We have company.” Now Tech peered at him through the dangling wires.

“Who?”

“Someone called Bardan and a clone called Mereel.” Hunter watched him slide out from under the console, sitting up to rest his elbows on his cocked knees.

“What are their intentions?”

“Unknown,” Hunter replied gravely. “We landed on their doorstep, apparently.” Tech was up and tapping on the ships controls, referring to his datapad.

“I conducted a comprehensive scan of the area and not a single residence was registered within the immediate vicinity.”

“It wouldn’t be.” Both the clones turned to face Mereel who had boarded silently. His eyes travelling over the Marauder, letting out a soft, appreciative whistle. “We have taken great pains to hide Kyrimorut.”

“Kyrimorut?” Hunter questioned.

“Literally translated it means end haven,” Tech supplied, adjusting his goggles.

“We call it home,” Mereel said. “Keeps us safe, away from that shabuir, who calls himself Emperor.” He turned, leaning against the door hatch. “Modified Omicron Class shuttle…you’ve got some serious weaponry on this me’sen. Seen plenty of action, judging by the marks and dents on the hull.” Tech almost visibly bristled at Mereel’s observation.

“We have not remained in one location a sufficient amount of time, to complete any cosmetic repairs.”

“Yeah. I know what that’s like.” A sharp whistle sounded from outside and Mereel grinned at them over his shoulder. “Buir is here.”

“Buir,” Tech muttered. “Means father.”

“How do they have a father?” Hunter frowned.

“I theorise, they address him as Buir, akin to how Stitch referred to Jango Fett. Mandalorians adhere to a creed where loyalty holds a greater significance than blood ties. This leads me to conclude it is plausible they adopt more than we realise.” They descended the ramp where Wrecker waited at the bottom, his helmet kicked up but watching the strange group with suspicion.

Two other armour clad Mandalorians as well as a cart full of fuel and supplies had arrived. One was a clone that was talking to Mereel and Bardan, the other was an older man. His brown hair was starting to grey, but his blue eyes were sharp and didn’t seem to miss a thing. He smiled at Tech and Hunter, limping a little when he came forward with a hand outstretched.

“Kal. Skirata. Bard’ika commed ahead and told us you needed supplies.”

Hunter took his offered arm and they clasped each other’s forearms. Tech seemed a little perplexed, but then no one had asked to greet him in such a way before. It felt unnatural, so he flexed and shook his hand after the contact. He didn’t like that way of greeting.

“Why are you helping us?” Hunter asked.

Kal cast his gaze through the trees. “Wouldn’t be much of a clone saviour if I didn’t at least fill your ship with food before you disappear.” Bardan came to stand next to him with Mereel and the other clone. “Kyrimorut is a refuge I built for clones after the war. I adopted this lot,” Kal gestured to the two clones beside him and they smiled identical smiles. “And plenty more. Some still in enemy hands.” He took a breath as though such a thought pained him greatly. “Bard’ika informed me you’re looking for someone.” Tech shoved past Hunter drawing the groups attention.

“Two people actually. One is an adult female and the other an adolescent female. We believe they are both being held by an Imperial scientist known as Hemlock.” Kal’s expression darkened at Tech’s words.

“I know of him. Disgusting human,” the man spat with vitriol. “If you’re seeking him though, you won’t get far. We even have someone on the inside and we still can’t pinpoint exactly where the base is.” Tech sucked in a deep breath, tapping on his bottom lip as he thought for a moment.

“Are you able to converse with your contact?”

Kal stepped aside, gesturing to the new clone. “Jaing, this is your playground.”

“Let me show you what we have.” Tech gave a curt nod, his expression was serious but there was a light of excitement in his gaze as he led Jaing into the ship.

“I’ll refuel the ship,” Wrecker offered.

“Need a hand?” Mereel moved the cart closer to the side of the ship at Wrecker’s nod.

Hunter turned his attention to the man they referred to as Bard’ika. He knew that was a term of affection, it was one of the few things he did know about the language. But something about Bardan made his senses take notice. It rolled over his skin, leaving a wake of tiny hairs on end and it was a sensation he recognised from you.

“You’re a Jedi.” Bardan grimaced when Hunter spoke.

“I used to be. I’ve moved away from that now, for obvious reasons.”

“More Mando’ad than anything. Ain’t ya son?” Kal draped an arm over Bardan’s shoulders and tousled his hair with a smirk. “Nothing gets past you, does it Sergeant?”

“Not anymore. Not since the war.”

“What a horrible time that was,” Kal sighed. “Still, I have to be grateful or I wouldn’t have my sons. None of them.” He became solemn, fixing Hunter with an intense stare. “You ever find who you’re looking for, you can come straight back here. I know you won’t settle before that, not when a youngling is missing. But there’s always room here for more.”

“That’s quite an offer,” Hunter said, not wanting to give a definite answer.

“Yeah, and here’s another,” Kal held out a hand with a data chip.

“What’s this?”

“Bank account. For your squad. It’s untraceable, Jaing worked his magic. Regular payments will be made into it for as long as you need.” Hunter took the chip, unable to see a way of saying no. First thing he’d do would be to hand it to Tech and verify it was just a data chip.

“Uh, thanks.” He still felt on edge, not really understanding why all of them were offering so much after meeting them once. But then, the squad had instantly taken you in as soon as you tried to shock Tech back at the slavers compound.

“The woman you’re looking for,” Kal said slowly. “Who is she?”

“Our medic,” came Hunter’s short reply. The less they knew about you the better.

“Always important,” Kal mumbled, exchanging a quick, knowing glance with Bardan. “Jaing will probably spend hours bringing your brother up to speed.”

“Tech,” Hunter supplied.

“Tech. Suits him.”

“They’re all fuelled and loaded up, Kal’buir.” Mereel pushed a now empty cart. “I see Besnay gave them a whole uj’alayi.” He pouted slightly.

“It’s good too!” Hunter turned to see Wrecker standing in the hatch, already eating something that looked like a cake.

“She’s a good one. Ordo’s wife has taken to a mandalorian kitchen like she was born to it,” Kal enthused.

“Gave Wrecker some explosives to add to his collection,” Mereel continued, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at the ship. “He’s got enough in there to make even Darman jealous.” Kal’s expression became strained, humming in agreement so he didn’t have to form words.

“Hunter!” Tech’s cry from within the ship spurred him to react quickly, bursting into the hold and coming to an abrupt stop. Jaing was sat at the console, Tech was holding his datapad but his attention was fixed on the screen.

“What is it?” Then he looked at the screen, suck in a breath at the sight.

“We had contact with Niner a rotation ago, until he went dark.” Jaing’s jaw flexed. “I have managed to download a few moments from Niner’s HUD the rotation before and found this,” Jaing explained.

“Tha’…that’s Stitch!” Wrecker gasped, the cake forgotten in his hand.

The picture was a frozen break in time. Your hands were bound, sat at a table in a room that had barely anything in. Your eyes were closed with blood streaking down your face, running into your mouth. Hemlock stood beside you, an openly sinister, gleeful expression lit up his face.

“What is that?” Hunter asked, referring to the device that hovered above the table, seemingly in pieces before you.

“That is a holocron.” Bardan had followed, looking over Hunter’s shoulder with a passive expression. “Kal’buir, he’s opening holocrons.”

“Osik,” the older man muttered. “Nothing doing right now,” he gruffly said but clearly not happy. “That’s not our business.”

“I don’t recognise her,” Bardan said more to himself than anyone else. “She looks familiar though…is she a Jedi?” Jaing pressed some buttons and brought up files that had classified scrawled across them.

“She was never at the temple, Bard’ika. She was…raised by Jango Fett?” Jaing spun round to catch Kal’s eye. The latter sighed, leaning forward to squint at the screen. “Says here she’s…well I’ll be damned!” Jaing pointed to another file. “This is part of the information I skimmed from Kamino since, well since I was old enough to do it.”

“You were in the barrels of their databanks by the time you looked 4, son.” Kal gave a snort of amusement.

“We weren’t the first clones.” Jaing shook his head in disbelief. “They attempted cloning a Jedi first.” Bardan stiffened.

“What?” Hunter demanded coldly.

“Says here, in layman’s terms, Jedi Master Sifo-Dyas offered his DNA to see if the aiwha-bait could make more Jedi. Every attempt failed, none survived except one. Designation JC-005.” Jaing took a deep breath. “This was erased from the Kaminoan files, after she was smuggled from Kamino by Sifo-Dyas himself.” He scrolled through the file. “The report implies she had a midi-chlorian count, with an estimated end count of around 9,000.” Hunter was reeling from the news that you were a clone. The clone of a Jedi. Jaing continued in his narration. “I can’t tell if Hemlock has this information but he,” here Jaing swallowed and glanced up at Tech who had been still as a statue this whole time. “He’s been experimenting on her.”

“What do you mean?” Hunter demanded. “How?” His insides were rolling. You were alive. And you were being used. He felt sick, what if Hemlock was experimenting on Omega too? He had to get you both out of there.

“It will take time to crack into those files,” Jaing explained. “They’re locked down tight.”

“How do you still not have a location for this base?” Hunter’s words were sharp but none of the men around him flinched. If anything they all carried depressive weights of their own at this news, haunted by unseen shadows none of them could shake.

“Hemlock has implemented extensive measures to conceal the whereabouts of his base,” Tech spoke up. Clearing his throat before his spoke again. “It appears the location is promptly erased from a ship’s navigational system.”

“Can’t you track it through Niner’s signal?” Tech shook his head at Hunter’s question.

“The signal to Niner’s HUD is being deliberately dispersed throughout the system in an attempt to obscure the destination point, and encryption from the HUD further distorts the origin point.”

“So they’re nearby?” Hunter asked.

“We believe so,” Mereel answered. “Just because this narrows it down to a single system, doesn’t mean it will be easy to find.”

“I can give you a copy of everything I have,” Jaing offered, addressing Tech with a softness to his expression that Hunter hadn’t seen before. Tech gave a curt nod, handing over his datapad. He didn’t look at anyone, moving around them until his steps descended the ramp and faded into the trees that surrounded the ship. Hunter’s chest expanded, torn between wanting to question everyone here until they gave him some solid intel and following Tech.

“I’ll go,” Wrecker whispered, disappearing outside.

Hunter fixed Jaing with a glare. “I want to know everything you know. You’re still withholding things from us.” The Null grinned but it wasn’t in amusement.

“Take a seat, sarge, because we’ve seen your youngling. And your medic.”

Tech had no idea how long he walked for. His feet wouldn’t stop. There was an urgency inside him, almost like a vibration that resonated through his entire body. He had to move.

He knew you were unique. He should have seen the signs, the obvious intelligence you possessed, your apparent natural born skill with healing and how quickly you absorbed information, utilising it immediately. Your extraordinary resilience, he had put it all down to being half raised by Jango Fett. He had failed you. Failed to see beyond your midi-chlorian count, not looking deeply enough into why the Empire wanted you.

The holocron opening before you meant something. You weren’t a Jedi, or an obvious force user. His mind was leaping to wild assumptions such as; Hemlock could have secured someone who was able to teach you. Jedi abilities grew over time, nurtured from a young age, a step that had been missed with you. Maybe his experiments on you enhanced it all, somehow?

With a quiet shake of his head, Tech rubbed a spot on his chest plate. Not that it eased the breathless ache which resided there, every hour in every rotation. A constant burning reminder of his loss, of missing you.

Trees passed him, the lake would normally have held his attention but right now, he barely saw it. The world blended into a blur which made him blink rapidly. It wasn’t until there was no change that he realised, he was cause of such distortion.

He shifted his goggles, moving them to rest on his forehead so he could press fingertips to his cheeks. They came away wet. Tech wasn’t one for crying. He didn’t think he’d done it since he was a young cadet back on Kamino.

They were raised tough, as soldiers, emotion never came into it. They were never taught how to manage it or even acknowledge it. Tech had always prided himself on his sense of detachment, he had seen how intense emotions could skew the mind, even his brothers had been prone to it.

But now, he couldn’t escape. Tech fell into a crouch, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. It did nothing to ease the burn, or stop the hitch in his throat when he tried to take a breath. He felt so raw and open in this moment, unable to quell the rush now the barriers had been lifted. Sobs beat his chest like rapid thunderclaps. The image of you with blood on your face, sores on your wrists and the hungry, devouring way Hemlock looked at you, would not leave the darkness behind his hands.

All of it choked him, folding Tech in on himself until he couldn’t find a way out of the mess. He was unaware of his surroundings, not hearing Wrecker approach from behind.

Strong arms wrapped around Tech and Wrecker squeezed. The big clone dropped to sit on the floor, leaning back against a tree and gathering Tech to him. It distressed Wrecker to see his brother suffering so deeply, so openly. So he did the only thing he could think of.

Tech didn’t fight, grateful to lean back into Wrecker and use him as a grounding technique. It took him back to a moment when they were small boys, trapped in an exercise where they were exposed to live ordnance for the first time.

Crosshair had faced it with a snarl, supporting Hunter who struggled with the noise and pressure. Wrecker had sheltered all his brothers, apparently fearless in the face of the heat waves that rolled over them. Tech had succumbed to panic, overwhelmed from everything happening at once. The noises disorientated him, the lights hurt his eyes and the feel of it all made him want to scratch his skin off.

Wrecker had carried him for most of the exercise and it was in that moment, Tech decided he wasn’t going to be a burden. He knew he was different to his brothers, with how he experienced the world, and he worked to not let it hinder him or them.

“She’s alive,” Wrecker breathed when Tech calmed down. His arms were looser, but he still caged Tech against him. “At least we know they are together. And Crosshair.”

The sun was beginning to lower, a chill from the ground was starting to seep through their armour, so Tech tapped Wrecker’s vambrace. The human cage fell away and Tech felt the emptiness that hollowed him out. He wouldn’t be complete until you were back with them.

“We should return.”

“I think Hunter is grilling ‘em.”

“They do not know the location,” Tech told him as they both stood, brushing off twigs and leaves that had attached to them. “If Jaing cannot crack the encryption, I shall also have no success.” Wrecker looked downcast, always wearing his heart on his sleeve.

“Stitch and Omega, they’re tough.” It sounded almost like a plea, he was desperate for his own reassurance and Tech saw that for once. He agreed, you were strong, having faced so much adversity through your entire life, Tech had no doubts you were surviving this ordeal too. Then his thoughts switched gears.

“Hemlock said he wanted Omega to help Nala Se…” Wrecker moved a branch aside and waited for Tech to pass. “What if he is using Omega to keep Nala Se complacent.”

“What you gettin’ at?”

“Why retain the head scientist,” Tech muttered to himself. “And the clones.” Wrecker didn’t ask another question, letting his brother think and taking it upon himself to clear the way for Tech through the foliage. “It stands to reason, Nala Se may not be there by choice.”

“She’s a prisoner too?”

“Hemlock is unable to advance his experiments, without her expertise. The Empire destroyed Kamino but they extracted everything from it beforehand.” Tech waved a finger and Wrecker lunged to push a thick branch out of the way before Tech walked into it. “The cloning programme would be too valuable to eradicate. He must be using Nala Se’s research. That is how he was able to erase the clone on Coruscant, of his designation and enhance the inhibitor chip.”

The Marauder came back into view. Hunter sat on the steps, playing with his vibroblade while he waited for Tech and Wrecker to return.

“It is highly probable, Hemlock is aware of Stitch being a clone.” Every one of Tech’s words were laden with a despondency.

“Do you think this, Doctor is making more clones?” Wrecker asked hesitantly, his brow furrowed as he tried to understand.

“It is a possibility we simply cannot ignore.” Tech replied grimly.

“Our main objective is getting our squad members out of there,” Hunter said, catching his blade with a flick of his fingers, twirling it round and sliding it home into the vambrace. “Wherever there, is.”

“Where are the others? Did they tell you anythin’ else?” Wrecker asked, peering into the ship.

“They headed back after telling me everything they knew.” Hunter was brooding, staring off into the distance.

“Anything we need to know?” Tech asked, scrutinising Hunter’s reaction.

“We can go through it later,” he finally said, fixing his honeyed gaze on Tech, the frown easing. “All right?”

“I do not think I can appropriately articulate…” Tech started to explain when Gonky appeared in the hatch, garbling his beeps in excitement. Tech stepped past Hunter to the droid and gently ushered him backwards. “Gonky is saying we have received a transmission.”

“Is it Rex or Echo?” Wrecker almost sounded excited as he charged up the ramp with Hunter.

Tech settled in the pilot’s chair, pressing buttons on the control panel and bringing up an encrypted message on the console.

“Well?” Hunter prompted, his mistrust evident.

Tech regarded the message for a second. “I can decode it. The message is written using a method I am familiar with.” It felt like it took forever for the message to be translated, when really it only took Tech a few minutes to reveal the message in its entirety.

“Wha’ does…wha’ does it mean?” Wrecker stressed, gesturing at the screen.

“Is this real?” Hunter leaned on the back of Tech’s chair, his eyes fixed on the message.

“I believe it is.”

“Can someone explain!” Wrecker moaned, rubbing a hand over his face.

“It’s Omega,” Hunter said to him. A slow smile began to work across his face. “She made it out. She’s sent us coordinates for a rendezvous.”

“Omega?” Wrecker’s eyes widened as he processed the news and then let out a laugh of relief. “She escaped!”

“It looks like it.” Hunter hesitated before allowing himself to show such relief.

“Wait…wha’ if it’s a trap?” Wrecker suddenly said.

“Unless Omega divulged a particular set of coordinates from our time near Ryloth to the Imperials, I do not believe so,” Tech explained, bringing up the details of Ryloth’s third moon. “I suggest we leave immediately.”

“Yes!” Wrecker cried out, excitement making him loud and he thumped Hunter on the back. “Let’s go get our girl.”

Tech felt pressure on his shoulder, quickly glancing at Hunter’s hand.

“She would not leave Stitch behind,” Hunter murmured. “If she did, for whatever reason, Omega will have a way back to her.” He felt guilty for keeping the intel he had to himself. Jaing had shown him some footage from Niner’s HUD, of you, Omega and Crosshair discussing an escape. Hunter was conflicted, but no one saw the outcome because Niner switched off the feed when he removed his helmet. Omega had made it out and Hunter hoped you were with her at least.

Tech tried to conjure up a smile but he didn’t have it in him. “I always strive for the most optimistic outcome,” he finally said.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go,” chanted Wrecker. Practically throwing himself into the copilot’s chair, flicking switches on the systems that needed priming. “I can’t wait to see her safe and sound and back with us.”

Wrecker and Hunter’s words melted into back ground noise for Tech. He concentrated on lifting the ship off the ground, triangulating the trajectory easily so they could launch into hyperspace as soon as they breached the atmosphere.

He was proud of Omega for getting out, impressed with her lack of detail in the message incase it was intercepted, he couldn’t fault her deliverance at all. Her choice of RP was also excellent. Yet, his stomach felt sick. He wanted to know if you were with her. And Crosshair.

He needed his family back together.

It was the end goal, the final mission. And it all sounded far too good to be true.

[minhosbitterriver]

💐 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 ( xdinary heroes )

❛ As you step into a new, more masculine identity, your nerves are eased by the unwavering support of your friends and boyfriend.

𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐤 𝐣𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤 + trans boy reader ೯ ( 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.9k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 7 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This is probably one of my favorite pieces I've written, it was so self-indulgent as a masc non-binary fan of XDH, so I absolutely adored this request (made by my wonderful 🩷 Anon! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Established relationship, Y/N recently came out as a trans guy, mentions of wearing a binder for the first time, the rest of the members of Xdinary Heroes are dressed femininely to support you since it's the first time you go out in public dressed so masculine, mentions of anxiety, mentions of people staring.

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

꒰ 🫙 ꒱ ミ Tip Jar!

You anxiously pace around your apartment, your steps quick and uneven, a reflection of the turmoil inside you. The clock on the wall ticks loudly, each second echoing your mounting nerves. Every few moments, you dart back to the mirror, adjusting the binder Jiseok had surprised you with and smoothing out the more masculine clothing you’ve chosen for the first time. The reflection staring back at you is both unfamiliar and oddly liberating, but the anxiety still gnaws at you like a persistent shadow.

Jiseok, lounging on your couch, watches you with an expression that blends amusement and tenderness. His phone lies forgotten in his hand, abandoned in favor of observing your restless movements. His eyes, filled with warmth and affection, follow your every step, a silent but reassuring presence amidst your growing apprehension. Despite his frequent reassurances that you look undeniably handsome, the unease remains, a gnawing uncertainty that refuses to fade.

This moment is significant for you, a departure from the familiar into uncharted territory. The binder and the new style represent more than just a change in wardrobe; they symbolize a step toward embracing a more authentic version of yourself. Yet, even with Jiseok’s repeated affirmations, the anxiety of stepping into this new self is palpable, a heavy weight that clings to your chest.

You cast another glance at your reflection, searching for flaws, for something that might unravel the confidence you’re trying to muster. The mirror shows a version of yourself that feels both empowering and vulnerable, a delicate balance that is hard to navigate. Each adjustment of your clothing, each smoothing of your hair, is an attempt to find comfort in this new skin, but the anxiety persists, whispering doubts into the corners of your mind.

Jiseok’s eyes, however, remain fixed on you, his amusement softened by a deep, unwavering support. His presence is a quiet counterpoint to your inner turmoil, a constant reminder that you are not alone in this journey. Though the anxiety continues to gnaw at you, the steadfastness in Jiseok’s gaze and his gentle reassurances offer a flicker of hope and a promise of acceptance.

Suddenly, your lifelong best friend and boyfriend excuses himself into your bedroom. You barely have time to wonder why before a knock on your front door interrupts your pacing. Heart racing, you sprint to answer it, only to be rendered speechless by the sight before you. While you had expected to find your friends, you hadn’t anticipated their striking transformations.

Gunil stands confidently at the forefront, his cropped top revealing a sliver of toned midriff, and his eyes accentuated by grungy makeup that sharpens his features. His bold look radiates a daring defiance, setting the tone for the unexpected ensemble before you.

Jungsu catches your eye next, sporting a mid-thigh length plaid skirt that sways slightly with his movements. His shirt is neatly tucked in, giving him a polished yet rebellious air, and his hair is adorned with colorful clips that contrast playfully with his otherwise composed appearance. The sight of Jungsu, usually so serious, embracing this vivid and whimsical style stirs a mixture of surprise and admiration within you.

Seungmin’s outfit is equally captivating, his cropped top paired with a flowing black skirt that grazes just above his knees. The eyeliner framing his eyes adds a dramatic flair, highlighting his expressive gaze. The combination of soft and edgy elements in his look mirrors the complex layers of his personality, leaving you both intrigued and impressed.

Hyeongjun, in a long denim skirt you've seen him wear before, exudes a quiet confidence. His hair is styled into a half-up, half-down look, softening his features and adding a touch of elegance to his casual attire. The familiar yet refreshed appearance of Hyeongjun brings a comforting sense of continuity amidst the surprising changes.

Finally, Jooyeon stands out with his short plaid skirt paired with fishnets, his hair styled into playful space buns. The juxtaposition of the classic plaid and daring fishnets creates a bold statement, and the space buns add a whimsical charm to his look. Jooyeon's daring fashion choice radiates a fearless confidence that resonates with your own journey of self-expression.

As you take in the sight of your friends, each embracing their unique styles with unapologetic confidence, a wave of emotion washes over you. The anxiety that had gripped you moments ago begins to melt away, replaced by a profound sense of camaraderie and support. Their bold transformations echo your own struggle and triumph in embracing your true self, reminding you that you’re not alone in this journey.

Your heart swells with gratitude and admiration for your friends, who have shown up not just in presence, but in spirit, celebrating your courage with their own. The sight of them, so different yet so authentically themselves, fortifies your resolve and fills you with a renewed sense of confidence. With a deep breath, you step forward, ready to embrace the evening with the unwavering support of your lifelong friends by your side.

"You all look amazing," you manage to say, still trying to process the vibrant array of styles before you. As they step inside, your eyes remain wide in shock and admiration. Their response is immediate and heartwarming; they shower you with genuine compliments, each remark about how handsome you look in your new style making your cheeks flush a deep crimson. The sincerity in their voices and the pride in their eyes fills you with a warmth that eases your earlier anxiety.

Just as you begin to relax into the moment, you hear Jiseok clear his throat dramatically behind you. Turning around, you gasp at the sight that meets your eyes. Jiseok stands there, still wearing the striped sweater he had on before disappearing into the bathroom, but instead of jeans, he’s now donning one of your old, long black satin dresses underneath the sweater. The elegant fabric sways slightly as he moves, creating a surprising yet strangely harmonious blend of casual and formal.

The absurdity of his outfit doesn't stop there. Perched atop his head is a plastic tiara, catching the light and adding a whimsical touch to his ensemble. His lips shimmer with glittery lip gloss, completing the playful and unexpected transformation. The sight is both ridiculous and endearing, a perfect encapsulation of Jiseok's ability to make you smile even in the most unexpected ways.

A light chuckle escapes your lips as you take in the full extent of his getup. The laughter bubbles up, mingling with the lingering remnants of your earlier anxiety, and suddenly, the room feels lighter, filled with an unspoken understanding and acceptance. You step forward, closing the distance between you and Jiseok, and press your lips against his in a tender kiss. The glitter from his lip gloss transfers slightly, adding a touch of sparkle to the intimate moment.

As you pull back, your eyes meet Jiseok's, and the look you share speaks volumes. In this small, affectionate gesture, there is an acknowledgment of the journey you've both been on, the courage it took to embrace your true self, and the unyielding support you have from him. Surrounded by your friends, all uniquely expressing themselves in your honor, and with Jiseok by your side, you feel a profound sense of belonging and love that fortifies you for whatever comes next.

Once the flurry of compliments had settled, you all made your way out the door, heading to a nearby restaurant as planned. The group walks in unison, a vibrant parade of diverse styles and unapologetic self-expression. As you move through the streets, you notice the curious and occasionally puzzled glances from strangers. However, the once-daunting stares no longer feel as terrifying with your friends and boyfriend by your side, their bold attire a testament to their unwavering support.

Gunil’s grungy makeup and cropped top, Jungsu’s plaid skirt with colorful hair clips, Seungmin’s flowing skirt and eyeliner, Hyeongjun’s elegant denim skirt and styled hair, and Jooyeon’s plaid skirt with fishnets and space buns create a striking visual that draws attention. Despite the occasional odd look, there is an undeniable sense of solidarity that envelops you, making the world feel a little less intimidating.

The endearing sight of your friends and boyfriend dressed so uniquely to support you fills your heart with warmth. Every step you take is lighter, buoyed by the camaraderie and love that surrounds you. The anxiety that had once gripped you now feels distant, replaced by a profound sense of acceptance and belonging. 

As you approach the restaurant, the looks from passersby seem less significant, their judgmental gazes overshadowed by the strength and unity of your group. Your heart swells with gratitude, knowing that these extraordinary individuals have not only embraced their own authenticity but have also empowered you to embrace yours.

The evening air feels crisp and invigorating as you walk together, and with each passing moment, the bond between you and your friends deepens. Their willingness to step out of their comfort zones and dress in a way that challenges societal norms just to support you is a testament to their love and friendship. The thought fills you with an overwhelming sense of pride and joy.

Jiseok’s hand remains firmly intertwined with yours throughout the entire walk, his touch a comforting anchor amidst the sea of emotions swirling within you. Every so often, he leans in close, his breath warm against your ear, and whispers how ridiculously handsome you look, how he can’t get over the transformation. His words are like honey, sweet and soothing, each one sinking into your heart and settling there.

He tells you how obsessed he is with you, his voice filled with a sincerity that makes your heart flutter. Each declaration of his pride in you, his honor to be your boyfriend, sends a fresh wave of warmth coursing through your veins. The intensity of his feelings is palpable, wrapping around you like a protective cocoon, and you can't help but blush profusely at each affectionate confession.

With every step, Jiseok’s grip on your hand tightens ever so slightly, a silent reassurance of his unwavering support. His presence, his whispered affirmations, create a bubble of intimacy amidst the bustling streets and curious onlookers. It’s as if the world fades away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in a moment of pure connection and love.

His words are a balm to your anxiety, each one meticulously chipping away at the insecurities that have long haunted you. The way he looks at you, with eyes brimming with adoration and pride, makes you feel seen in the most profound way. It’s not just about the clothes or the outward changes; it’s about the courage to embrace your true self, and Jiseok's endless support amplifies that courage tenfold.

Every time he leans in to murmur his adoration, your cheeks heat up, a blush spreading across your face. The sincerity in his voice, the warmth in his eyes, makes each compliment feel like the first, filling you with a sense of joy and affirmation that you hadn’t realized you needed so desperately. 

As you walk together, hand in hand, Jiseok’s unwavering support and constant reassurances weave a tapestry of love and confidence around you. His pride in you is evident in every word, every touch, and every glance. With each affectionate whisper, the bond between you strengthens, reinforcing the belief that together, you can face anything the world throws your way.

By the time you reach your destination, the anxiety that had once threatened to overwhelm you has dissipated, replaced by a profound sense of love and belonging. Jiseok’s constant reminders of how handsome you are, how proud he is of you, and how honored he feels to be your boyfriend, have fortified your spirit. Blushing and beaming, you step into the restaurant with him by your side, ready to face whatever comes next, knowing that with Jiseok's love, you are unstoppable.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ My permanent taglist is open! (Click on the link to join! All you have to do is answer a few questions to help me stay organized!)

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS! STAYBLR FUNDRAISER!

[blametheeditor]

Voretober Day 20 | Bond

Voretober Prompt List

First | Previous | Next

If given the opportunity, would you take the chance to go to space and travel the stars? What if the person offering to take you was someone you trusted more than anyone else?

What if that person is no longer entirely human?

MENTIONS OF SOFT VORE

Content Warnings: Soft, non-sexual vore (only mentions for now). Mentions of body horror. Mentions of experimenting on people. Mentions of death and murder, violence. Being trapped against one's will. Dehumanization. Abductions. Cursing. Darker themes/tone

___________________________________

“How far have we gotten?” 

“We’re finally onto the rules of baseball,” Scott says without pausing his sketching. “Which I’m going to tag you in for, but I think I’ll be able to give a decent hologram to work with.” 

He senses more than sees Vincent walk up behind him. Mike is already sitting in the chair to his right, watching a baseball field slowly come to life, but instead of grabbing the chair to his left the taller looks over his shoulder. 

“Nice job, Scotty.” A purple hand suddenly reaches forward, forcing Scott to pause as a finger hovers over one of the bases. “Though, I think this line will corrupt it.”

His eyes narrow, trying to see what Vincent apparently does. “How can you tell? Is it glitching or something?” 

“Or something,” is murmured vaguely. “If you don’t trust me, we can give the hologram a try.” 

“...are you messing with me?” Scott asks, looking up to meet his best friend’s gaze. One that’s suspiciously surprised by the accusation. 

“Me, mess with you? Why Scotty, when have I ever done such a thing?” Vincent asks. 

In retaliation, Scott swipes his hand over his nearly finished sketch, activating the hologram so it becomes a fully interactive 3D image instead of just glowing lines on the page. 

Part of him expected it to glitch sporadically, or possibly crumple into itself before becoming 2D as a mess of indiscernible sketches all mangled together. Neither happens, and he’s left staring at a fairly decent baseball diamond that will be helpful to explain the rules of the sport. 

Vincent thinks so as well, his arms reaching around Scott before closing the book with a loud snap before lifting it high over his head as he walks toward the doorway leading to the giant’s section. “Thanks, Scotty!” 

Scott’s left staring after his best friend, too shocked to do anything. And then Mike’s jumping out his chair with an excited shriek, racing after Vincent. 

That’s when he realizes he was left behind. “Vince!” 

He’s only given a wave as the purple man disappears from sight. Scott quickly climbs out of his chair as well, jogging toward the door before cautiously peering out, uncertain what exactly the current plan is. 

He’s greeted by Vincent sitting cross legged on the floor, grabbing a book big enough to smash Scott like a bug before setting it down in front of him and opening it, not paying any attention to the absolutely minuscule form climbing up his pants. He is careful with the book currently pinched between two fingers, setting it down in the middle of the pages with symbols bigger than it before using a nail to flip the microscopic cover. 

With a wave of his hand, Scott’s sketch is suddenly ten times its original size as it turns into a hologram, making it almost big enough to actually be usable. 

...he better not be used as a living demonstration. 

“Up here, Scott!” Mike waves from where he sits on Vincent’s knee. “Come sit next to me!” 

Scott hesitates. Sends a look up at the smirk hovering tens of feet above them. “You know, you could’ve just told me this was the plan.” 

Vincent smiles before offering a hand palm up. “Surprise.” 

“I hate you,” Scott grumbles as he walks across the fingers, gasping when the hand lifts before he’s properly sitting down, arms pinwheeling in the attempt to keep his balance. It’s only a few seconds before it’s stopping and he can stumble off, but it’s enough to have him whack the nearest digit as they retreat. “Were you trying to make me faceplant?” 

“No way to really prove it.” 

He glares as he carefully sits down next to Mike. “I swear you’re gonna be the death of me.” 

Just to prove it, a finger appears to poke his side, making him fall against Mike as the kid giggles. “Now, when it comes to baseball, you have two teams playing against each other.” 

As if he didn’t just make a lifelong enemy who’s currently planning payback, Vincent motions toward the hologram as he begins to explain the basics. Like the numerous positions, what exactly ‘bases’ are, and it’s not allowed to hit someone with the bat or directly throw the ball at them. 

“Did you play baseball?” Mike asks. 

The purple man pauses, looking down at them with a slightly distant gaze. “I did.” 

“Did Scott play with you?” 

That earns a small smile. “No, Scotty never played. Even refused to be my pitcher when I wanted to practice my swings.” 

“I tried to once, and you complained I didn’t throw fast enough,” Scott defends. 

“You couldn’t even clock a 65.” 

“My fastest was 55 and that was the first I ever threw a ball!” 

“I tried giving you tips to improve your throw.” 

Before he can fire back that simply saying he was ‘throwing it wrong’ wasn’t a tip, Mike is gently tugging on his sleeve. “Why do you have a jer-sey if you didn’t play?” 

“Oh,” Scott murmurs as he looks down at his attire. “This is Vince’s jersey. I was dressing up as one for Halloween.” 

He can see the question in Mike’s eyes since they haven’t spoken about holidays yet, but the kid holds himself back to focus on the topic at hand. “Why does it say W-reyt?” 

“Wright,” Scott corrects with a smile. “Like ‘right’ with a silent w.” 

Suddenly, the fingers are back to delicately pinch the other sleeve. When he looks up, he’s met with an awed expression. “This is mine?” 

“Uh, yeah.” The moment he says it, he realizes what it must mean to Vincent. That if Scott has his jersey, then what about his other items? Everything he owned back on Earth? Were they safely kept as reminders of the person who disappeared, or thrown away to make room for other things? “I...we each got a jersey.” 

His brothers got first pick of course. After a year passed, they packed away the everyday items, like clothing and everything he kept in the bathroom. They didn’t touch his bed or any of his other items, just the things that clearly weren’t being used anymore. But not before they decided to take one of his numerous jerseys for the different sports he played as a reminder. 

Daniel has his hockey. Jonathan his football. Anthony his soccer. Scott his baseball. 

Last time he checked in with the brothers, Vincent’s things were still exactly where they were left when he first disappeared. Though the rest of the room has changed, the second bed taken out along with all of Anthony’s things. Now Jonathan and Anothony share a room, and Daniel is now in the master bedroom. 

They might not have all gotten along, and there were certainly times when they would butt heads with Vincent, but they love their brother more than anything. And even though they were never really close with Scott, they always treated him like family. 

Though he doesn’t know if they let him have the jersey of their brother’s favorite sport because that was the only one Vincent ever properly tried to get him to play, or if they found it too painful to wear something with the same year he disappeared. Because Vincent never asked for a specific number, just whatever got handed to him. Who could’ve known 87 was an omen instead of what the coach randomly picked for the lineup. 

A smile tugs on Vincent’s mouth. A slightly sad one, but mostly fond. “I don’t know how I didn’t notice.” 

“Well, you’re not exactly behind me often,” Scott shrugs. “If you want to wear it, by the way, just let me know.” 

“I’d rather not risk having to grow and ripping it to shreds,” the giant murmurs. “It’s also funny seeing you wear a jersey despite never being a single sport in your life.” 

“Some of us aren’t naturally athletic.” 

Vincent flashes a lopsided smile. “Nope. Others are short string beans with noodle arms who can’t throw an average 65.” 

Scott sputters. “What the hell, what did I do to deserve that?” 

A finger nudges him. “Nothing about deserving, just stating the truth.” 

“The truth!” 

“What’s hell?” 

The sudden question makes him jump, turning to see Mike looking up at him expectantly, clearly having been amused by their argument. But he can only stay silent for so long, especially if something he has yet to learn about comes up. 

And Scott just committed the cardinal sin of telling a child there’s such thing a curse words. 

Vincent guffaws, somehow not managing to throw them off his knee from his movements. “It would be you.” 

“It’s just a place, Mike,” Scott explains, hoping he can distract the kid enough he doesn’t ask why Vincent’s laughing. “You don’t need to worry about it.” 

Big blue eyes turn pleading. “But you said ‘the hell’.” 

God help him. “Yes, but it’s just a phrase, it doesn’t really mean anything.” 

“Oh it means something,” Vincent rumbles as he wipes a tear from his eye. Once he composes himself he leans away from to prop his cheek on his fist using his other knee as an armrest. Gives a wide Cheshire grin that says he will not being giving Scott any mercy. “Well, do you want me to explain, or will you do the honors?” 

“We’re not teaching him!” Scott exclaims, though it sounds more like pleading. 

“Why not?” Vincent grins. “He wants to learn about Earth and humanity. And what’s more human than cursing?” 

“He doesn’t need to know. And if we do teach him, we’d be terrible...” He waves a hand, trying to find the right word. “Alien caretakers.” 

Both Mike and Vincent wrinkle their noses. “Vincent’s my brother.” 

“And those are supposed to teach about cursing,” the purple man agrees. 

Scott freezes. “I’m sorry, brothers?” 

“Adopted. Keep up, Scotty.” 

“You can’t just say that and expect me to know what you meant! I only learned he’s a Colossan a few days ago!” 

“Colossian.” 

“Vincent so help me-” 

“I want to be a human,” Mike interrupts. It catches both of them off guard, looking down at the kid’s determined expression as he looks between the two of them. “I don’t want to be a Colossian. I want to be a human like Vincent, and know how to play baseball, and curse.” 

He looks so proud of himself with such an announcement. Though it doesn’t escape Scott’s attention Mike is watching him like he’s waiting to be told if his want is possible to achieve. As if asking for permission. 

When he glances up at Vincent, his best friend only raises his eyebrows. 

“Okay, one, you don’t need to know how to curse to be human. Two, even though I think you picked the worst role model to have, we can teach you everything you need to know.” 

Mike brightens. “Including cursing?” 

“Including cursing," he sighs in defeat. Ignores the wide smile on Vincent’s face, no need to rub in. “Though I’m not teaching you, that’ll all be on Vince.” 

“Until we get to hell,” the giant sneers. “Though if he’s human now, he needs a full human name.” 

Mike gasps before standing up, unable to contain his excitement as he bounces in place, somehow never loosing his balance despite the unsteady surface. “Like what!” 

“Could give him yours,” Scott muses as he copies Vincent’s current position. “Michael Wright.” 

“I think we can get more creative than that,” the giant says. 

“Like pasta!” Mike cheers. 

“Unfortunately that’s not a proper last name,” Vincent grins. 

“Smith?” 

“So far Pasta’s winning.” 

Scott scowls as he waves a hand. “I don’t hear you making any suggestions.” 

A thoughtful hum emits as amber eyes look down in thought. Then they flick over to the hologram of a baseball field. “Schmidt.” 

It takes a moment for Scott to remember why the name sounds so familiar. “The baseball player?” 

That sells it for Mike. “Can that be my name!” 

Vincent smiles as he reaches over to ever so carefully ruffle the kid’s hair with a fingertip. “Your dad is going to be absolutely livid when he finds out.” 

“Not unless I tell him about baseball,” Mike proclaims. 

“Just make sure you don’t talk about the swearing lessons,” Scott murmurs. “So, Schmidt, should we break for lunch?” 

“Yes!” the kid says before all but throwing himself off of Vincent’s knee. A hand catches him before Scott can yell, though that doesn’t mean his heart automatically settles down as it’s then offered for him to climb into. 

He’s too shaken to speak, silently standing up on wobbly legs that buckle the moment he steps into the palm. He takes a moment to close his eyes, concentrating on taking deep breaths to calm his nerves, opening them once the sense of vertigo is gone. 

“I take it back, both of you will be the death of me.” 

“Come now, Scotty,” Vincent rumbles as he slides the two onto the floor in front of  the doorway. As Mike darts into the kitchen, he shrinks down to offer Scott a hand off the ground. “You’ve only been in space for a little over a month. By the time Mike hits his growth spurt, nothing will surprise you.” 

“That’s a very mild way of saying a teenager will be able to hold me in his hand.” 

“And yet I think you’ll prefer him carrying you around over me.” 

“Maybe, but only after he’s carried you around.” 

Vincent raises an eyebrow. “You think he’ll help you get payback for every time I’ve pocketed you?” 

Scott smirks. “Oh, you’d be surprised how quick he broke at the thought of a Pocket Vincent.” 

[lamialamia]

Mota ep 2 rewatch thoughts

So, I know i'm late. Really want to do this last week but everything got super hectic >"<

But here i am doing it xD better late than never right? funny tidbit, I rewatched this episode on the place and ho boy. When the flak starts coming in my plan also went through turbulence and it was an... immersive experience alright.

This is actually a really really good episode. It actually has so many many good scenes. The iconic verbal and non-verbal sparring with the RAF guys. "Heavy petting over your end" damn brits why you gotta be homophobic like that?

Bucky not dealing well with grief. He's drinking, he want to feel hurt, he letting his emotion running rampant. Holding things in just isn't Bucky's style. Good or bad emotion he want to dive into them and his red flag is how unwilling Bucky is in controlling them. Of course, an absolute contrast to his boy bestfriend who never ever let control slip away.

Iconic scene of Crosby's puke in the helmet made him think he got hit lmaooo and then the friendship with Bubbles compels me so much. They were besties. They were meant to stay together forever being navigators power house of the 100th. Crosby saying Bubbles is a genius to the brass? 🥹🥹

The bike race scene? Still good. Then the scene of TwoBucks looking at the flak and Gale casually mentioning his father's vices... vices that are exactly Buckys as well? Crazy crazy crazy madness ahjdkahjkfds

Talking about Gale's father. I think it was actually a good idea to have him never mention this ever again. It actually emphasizes how closely he held this info to his heart. Not to mention, the way he talks about his father like the man is dead. On first watch, I really thought he was dead and gone... but he isn't? Gale's father is walking around out there but he's dead to his son? Who replaces him with Bucky?

Anyway I love that Gale has daddy problems.

However, I don't like the dialogue where Bucky says: "So that's why you don't like sport." It's a bad choice to have your character saying the core of the problem out loud. We can infer that stuff. This is like the writers think the audience can't catch the implication of Gale's story at all and have to spell it out to us. Another strike in the "tell instead of show" problem that haunt this show.

Me when Croz mentioned his wife: 😬🙄🙄😒😒😑

[spectres-fulcrum]

I... Am shocked that I didn't see it coming that Henry and Alex didn't meet at the Olympics in the movie.

I'm watching the Taylor and Nick interviews that were released today and Taylor mentioned in the film they first met at a climate conference and I was like "No Rio?" and I was like "... no duh. Bre, you know from YOI how they[The Olympics] are."

I know from the Yuri on Ice fandom that the Olympics are fiercely protective of their rights in non literature media(logos, mentions, etc). So you had the top male ice skater in the world but they never mentioned if he had been to the Olympics. I think they put him in his country's winter Olympics uniform in one scene to *hint* and that was the most they could do. I think I was even vaguely surprised the book could even mention the Olympics at first.

So yeah I should've known we weren't getting Rio. I wish they kept the meeting at a sporting event, like some World Championship or something. Maybe a F1 GP(that's the racing fan in me, that's literally so unlikely Bre). But they needed a reason to have both Henry and Alex there and I feel like some soccer/football game wouldn't have the same draw for both but a political event would for sure. Idk Probably was a bit easier to film.

So that's the vague reason why Rio was cut out. I know there's better posts on YOI+Olympics but it's hard to find because YOI hit the skating community very hard and there's Olympic level routines to YOI music. YOI was kinda THE thing you had to be there for. It was very surreal