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disneyprincemuke · 5 months

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in the late night, in a disguise

alternatively: of course people recognise her at 3am

in which logan has to dress entirely differently to run some late-night errands with her in the uk

(series masterlist)

"are you sure this is discreet enough for me to be seen holding your hand in public?" was what logan had asked her about an hour ago before they stepped out of their apartment.

discreet enough meant an oversized puffer jacket that covered nothing, and a simple cap to sort of shield himself away from being recognised too quick. though, the argument he tried to race was that he's not worried it would be him that would be spotted; it's her after the year she just had.

she simply answered him with a: "it's three in the morning, nobody's out on the streets at this time of the hour."

what she failed to factor in was that there's a local club that will close during the time they arrive at the convenience store about two blocks from their apartment.

logan's eyes widen at the crowd that's spilling out from the doors up ahead and drops his head low, pulling the hat further down his head as if it would help him shield himself from the reality of being found.

his oblivious girlfriend, however, keeps her lingering stare on the half-tipsy and stumbling bouts of clubgoers. she taps her fingers against the back of his, swinging their hands gently as he pushes the door open to reel her away from being recognised with his hand in hers.

"hm, what were we planning on getting again?" she asks softly, scanning the empty convenience store. "i want orange juice. could you help me find orange juice?"

"absolutely. meet at the cashier in 5 minutes?" logan asks, squeezing her hand very quickly as she tears herself away from him.

"okay. don't get anything stupid, logan."

"what makes you say that?"

"just don't," she sighs, flashing him one last smile before she disappears into the aisle right by the fridge.

five minutes pass by quicker than logan expected because he's still staring at the shelves of instant noodles. he just can't simply figure out which exactly he wants to get and eat once they make their way back.

perhaps meeting her a minute or so late wouldn't hurt. so he takes his time contemplating a list in his head, comparing flavours and brands before he settles for a pack of noodles that she would also very much enjoy.

while he walks the aisle leading towards the cashiers, he catches a glimpse of the pink jacket she's decided to wear out tonight. a smile stretches his lips as he calls out to her, "babe, sorry i'm late. i was- oh no."

when he steps out from the corner, catching a glimpse of the area, there's a group of three girls with beaming grins and their phones out. their eyes quickly shift over to him, their eyes widening even more as they slowly process the word that's just been said.

one girl, who had been in the middle of retouching her lipstick for a picture with the (y/n), drops her hand in shock as she looks at logan. then she looks at the driver in pink. "you guys are-"

"i'll pay you good money not to tell anybody," his girlfriend quickly says, hands darting out to gently touch her shoulder with pleading eyes. "can you guys keep a secret?"

"depends, how much are you willing to give to keep it a secret?" one of the girls giggles, a hand covering her lips. though, she straightens her back and her smile disappears when the driver's eyes start to tear up. "wait, i'm joking. of course, we can keep a secret!"

his girlfriend sniffles, wiping her nose on the cuff of her jacket. "are you sure? i can pay you something, i swear!"

"(y/n), no," logan says softly, pulling her back a couple of steps into his body. with a hand protectively on her shoulder, he smiles at the girls, tilting his head. "yeah, we are, but like... in secret."

one of the girls giggles, grabbing her friend's shoulder. "see, i told you they're dating."

the girl with her lipstick in hand, smiles before she puts it away into her bag once more. "that's cool," she admits with a nod. "can i take a picture with your girlfriend, though? meeting her is cooler than finding out something everybody speculates every other week."

"oh," the driver whispers, patting her eyes to dry the tears that had formed. "you think i'm cool?" she turns to logan and tugs at his jacket. "she thinks i'm cool."

"are you kidding?" another girl snorts. "you easily beat those guys on the track - you're amazing."

logan steps forward and puts his things down in the same place she'd momentarily put her stuff. he takes her phone from her jacket pocket and steps out. "absolutely. she's pretty cool, right?"

— bonus

"i can't believe they thought i was cool," she squeaks, tapping her card against the reader. "can you believe that? i'm getting recognised outside the paddocks."

"you're pretty cool, babe," logan grins giddily, holding the door for her as she walks in. "i think i lucked out asking you to be my girlfriend."

she rolls her eyes, waving away his statement. she presses the button to call for an elevator, then takes a step towards him. she tugs at the hem of his shirt as she leans into him and she looks up. "sorry someone saw us. you were right - we should have just stayed in."

"it's okay as long as you're okay with it," logan smiles, leaning down to chastely kiss her. "but this will happen more. you're growing to be quite the household name. i'm convinced i'm retiring as a wag rather than an f1 driver."

she frowns. "don't say that! next season will be much better for you."

"for us."

taglist: @myxticmoon

#tine is right #i really AM making a home out of the ls2 tag #somebody needs to stop me i fear #logan sargeant #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #female driver #fem!driver #f1 female driver #f1 x you #f1 #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke ial

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 4 months

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Perfect Find

Steven Grant x GN!Reader • Rating: PG •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist • ko-fi •

Summary: You and Steven look through the local charity shops.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Just some fluffy old fluff.

Warnings: swearing, set in the UK, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 590

You gasp excitedly as you hold up the shirt. “Steven, what about this one?”

His eyes light up when he sees it and rushes around from the other side of the clothing rail. “It’s perfect!” He touches the material lightly, it’s cotton, or at least some kind of cotton blend. Whatever it was, it doesn’t make him feel like he needs to peel his skin off after coming into contact with it.

“This charity shop has everything,” he laughs as he takes the shirt, a short sleeved button down, out of your hands and looks at the price. £6.00, not bad.

The shirt itself is a vibrant sky blue, intercut with swirls of white that in all honestly neither of you are one hundred percent sure if they are meant to be clouds or waves. Though most likely the latter considering the main pattern of the material. It is covered with swimming goldfish, all from a bird’s eye perspective.

You notice the black t-shirt slung in the crook of Steven’s arm and point to it. “Found something else?”

It takes him a moment to drag his eyes away from the goldfish before he looks up to you and smiles. “For Marc.”

You’re about to say how thoughtful that is of him, until Steven holds the t-shirt up and you can read the text on the front. ‘My depression is chronic, but this ass is iconic.’

You can’t help the sudden bout of laughter that spills from your lips. “Oh my god…”

“I know, right?” Steven gives you the biggest shit eating grin.

“He’s gonna hate that.”

“He is.” Steven says with an almost perverse glee. “Loathe it, utterly, utterly loathe it.”

You walk with Steven as he takes his purchases to the till. “Is this payback for him hiding your Hanukkah jumper?”

“Not in the slightest.” He grins. “Just part of the payback.”

You giggle.

“I’m gonna wear this t-shirt every time I know we’ve got planned switching time. See how long it takes before he notices the writing.”

“Could be a while.” You smile.

Marc was very observant when it came to outside things, other people, the landscape, he wasn’t however so concerned with what he was wearing as long as it was comfortable and fairly plain. The writing on the t-shirt was just small enough that there was a good chance he wouldn’t pay attention to it straight away. Especially if Steven put a hoodie or a plain-ish shirt over the top (unbuttoned of course).

“Oh, I intend to make sure it is.” Steven beamed as he then turned to the cashier, greeted them and paid for the shirt and t-shirt.

You absentmindedly touch the t-shirt as you put it into your canvas bag and sling it over your arm. It’s soft, comfortable. And you smile. You know, just as Steven does, that deep, deep, deep down, Marc will quite like the t-shirt.

He’ll grumble a little of course, probably give you both a playful roll of his eyes and tut. But he won’t take it off. He won’t throw it away.

You’ll find him wearing it of his own free will in bed, and on lazy mornings in the flat. And even outside when the urge takes him.

“I can carry those, love.” Steven smiles at you as you carry the bag, but you shake your head.

“It’s fine.”

He tuts, a sound that is so different to Marc, and kisses your cheek as you both head outside into the high street and the next charity shop.

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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thethirdromana · 22 days

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Subscribing to Letters Regarding Jeeves and the Woman in White Weekly has left me preoccupied with the role of servants. So here's a bit of a ramble on servants - and particularly Dracula's servants, or lack thereof.

Jonathan comes from a time when being middle-class means having at least one live-in servant. But the number of servants per head of population in the UK was falling - from 1.38m in 1891 (4% of the population) to 1.27m in 1911 (2.8% of the population). That's why, in Jonathan's time, employing one servant means entry to the middle classes, but 30ish years later, the fabulously wealthy Bertie Wooster also has... one servant.

(To disgress: admittedly Jeeves is likely to be a lot more expensive to employ than the entry-level maid-of-all-work that a middle-class household would have, and there's also no indication that Wooster couldn't afford more servants, but I think it's still significant that he's happy with just the one. Wooster is gently snobbish about being appropriately dressed and going to the right restaurants and so on, but he doesn't see only having one servant as a problem.)

Dracula is a medieval nobleman. I don't know much about Transylvanian history but I would expect that in life, his castle would have been swarming with servants, both as a necessity (it takes a lot to keep a castle warm and clean, and its inhabitants fed), as a duty (to employ people from the surrounding area) and as a status symbol. And I would expect much the same to be true of a living nobleman on his country estate in 1890s Transylvania as well.

So why doesn't Dracula have any servants?

Well, obviously from a storytelling perspective, it's fucking creepy. I think the impact is lessened from a 21st century perspective because "there are no servants" is the default state for most of us, but this is the 1890s equivalent of being in a city and suddenly all the street noise goes silent. And I fear I am myself the only living soul within the place goes hard in any century. From Bram Stoker's perspective, I don't think this needs more justification and if I wasn't analysing every aspect of this book in the minutest detail I don't think I would give it any further thought.

The other obvious answer is that, being dead, Dracula doesn't need any servants. But I don't think that works. He may not need to eat or stay warm and presumably he doesn't produce any waste, but he still wears clothes that need washing and has horses that need to be cared for. Any old building needs an exhausting amount of maintenance just to keep it from crumbling. There's a lot of work that needs doing and I think we can assume that Dracula doesn't want to be doing it himself.

Perhaps he can't have servants. If serving at the castle means death (which presumably it does) then maybe the locals just refuse. And while Dracula has ways to pressure people, I can imagine that he would see that as beneath him just for the sake of having someone to wash his shirts. Maybe as much of that work as possible is done outside the castle, free of charge, by the terrified locals.

So then I find myself wondering, what is the state of the castle usually? Has Dracula spring-cleaned for his visitor? Has he brought the bed-hangings and linen out of ancient storage chests, replacing the moth-eaten ones that usually sit there, decaying? Has he dusted? There is an enormous amount of work involved just in getting the castle to the standard that Jonathan sees. Is there magic involved? Does Dracula usually live there like Sleeping Beauty with the castle crumbling around him? Or is the sumptuous luxury that Jonathan sees just an illusion?

#dracula daily #letters regarding jeeves

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neil-gaiman · 2 years

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Honestly, the main reason I sent that ask is because I was up all night freezing in my own home, as you so eloquently put it, so I can get to winter only £400 in debt to the energy company instead of £500.

Unfortunately, I’m not a retired author. Like most people in my situation, I work full time.

So when you use quaint euphemisms like fed or comfortable to mean very wealthy it’s callously insulting.

I know what comfortable money is and if you were getting that from Netflix they’d be paying you less than a customer service supervisor.

Most of the authors who we support at the Authors League Fund don't consider themselves retired, even in their 70s and 80s. They can't afford to retire, and because an author's life is a precarious one, few of them have pensions or savings enough -- and those who do have savings often find that one medical emergency can wipe them out. They'd love to be writing if anyone would publish them, or be teaching, and almost all of them are working however they can to make whatever money they can. And the Fund helps them with the money to eat, to pay dental or medical bills, to get cars back on the road, to pay rent, or pay energy bills. So when I'm talking about copyright feeding authors, I'm not talking about me, specifically, I'm talking about most authors (only 2% of whom can support themselves through their writing alone, per the last statistics I saw, but it may have dropped since then). These aren't "quaint euphemisms". When I say "fed" and "comfortable" I'm talking about survival. (And yes, some of these authors are people you've heard of and whose books you probably love.)

Here's the Author's League Fund link -- please read the link on what we do and how it works, and donations are always very welcome:

And, yes, I'm an international best-selling author: I actually take a pay-cut to work on Good Omens, Anansi Boys and Sandman, because I'd be making vastly more writing new books, instead of showrunning. I'm an outlier in all this, and I'm not pretending I'm not. (I know it's not usual to be making things that have an affect on a whole country's economy, as in https://deadline.com/2022/06/screen-scotland-report-half-billion-dollars-scotland-economy-good-omens-1235051307/.)

But...

If I'd died in my late thirties, back when I wasn't an outlier, with three children under the age of 18, and all my copyrights and royalties had terminated at my death, my kids would have been watching the Sandman and Good Omens TV adaptations, or the Stardust movie, and seeing the books and comics on sale and wondering why it was fair that huge corporations were making enormous amounts of money on their dad's creations, and reprinting his books and comics, while they, too, were struggling to pay for food or heat.

All over the UK people are struggling to pay energy bills. It's obscene. In your part of the world I'm supporting local foodbanks, and several local school "breakfast clubs" and after school groups, because I can afford to and a tiny amount of food makes a huge difference to kids (and to the people who need the foodbank assistance). But I'm not seeing that the awfulness of UK energy policy would be improved by a shorter period of copyright, and if I didn't have the copyright and royalties on things I'd created over 30 years ago, I might not be in a position to help feed people.

Does that help?

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elodieunderglass · 1 year

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Immigrating in adulthood means that I get the exciting experience of being surprised by life around me. I didn’t grow up with them, you see.

Yesterday the surprise came in the form of a moth the size of a thumbnail. I was hanging up laundry when I saw it - the first impression was a small fly, with a dense quickness and buzz. I could identify “moth” by its gestures, but I was enchanted by the brilliance of the graphic design - the sweet velvety purple-brown color set against the bright gold - and the gratified, lavish attention it was paying to my variegated oregano. It was tremendously excited by some mysterious property of that oregano. I mean, I get it too, but I hardly ever do an interpretive dance on it. It reminded me of a cat romping on a fresh catnip plant.

After research, I was happy to meet the MINT MOTH or SMALL PURPLE AND GOLD, which just goes to show that moth-namers - more than any other natural historians - understand the assignment. They give you two choices, both good, both descriptive, and conveying the essential character. Trustworthy folk, your moth people. My moth-fancying friend, who goes out of her way to meet new moths, has a Facebook album called Much Ado About Mothing and goes to local mothing meetings, sometimes posting the minutes, which only reinforces my take here; these people are trustworthy, diligent hands to place problems in.

I like the Linnean name too: Pyrausta aurata, the ‘aurata’ meaning gold-adorned, gilded; and Pyrausta possibly being a reference to a Greek mythological insect, which is exciting because you don’t get many mythological insects. but you’d better research that for yourself, as I didn’t see a single source I liked very much.

And best of all I liked the description of its habits. The Mint Moth loves mint and marjoram, and is a delightfully common visitor in gardens that grow these. In the wild, it follows watermint and wild marjoram. These plants form forage for its polite caterpillars, who barely affect the host plants at all. And if you have a garden in the uk with mint and marjoram, a very tiny creature the size of a thumbnail may come and roll around in it.

Now, I have mint and marjoram - but it really wanted that oregano, which was interesting to think about - something worth exploring and understanding better, even though it isn’t the food source of its caterpillars. Oregano is a member of the Lamiaceae family, which mint and marjoram belong to, so it clearly has something that mint moths like; and even though the marjoram is right next to it, it was clearly worthy of deep mothy investigation. Who knows what’s in the mind of a moth! I hope if any caterpillars emerge from this little dance, they’re happy with eating oregano…

Hurray for little visitors who bring surprises.

#mint moth

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cupcakeshakesnake · 8 months

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are you serious about believing that cats shouldn't be let outside?

why? like don't get me with that "oh they'll kill animals" well yeah, maybe they will. it's their natural instincts, and allowing them outside promotes a range of natural behaviours. so isn't it cruel to prevent that? and if you believe they shouldn't be allowed to go outside, isn't it cruel to choose to keep them inside instead of just *not having a cat?*

also for that arguement the rspb says " there is no scientific proof that predation by cats in gardens is having any impact on bird populations UK wide." while you may not be from the UK, the UK isn't a place where domestic cats are native either!

I wonder if you are American as so many Americans seem to have this weird opinion - is it very common to believe solely in indoor cats where you live? /gen q. it's very common to have cats that go outdoors here in the UK, and the concept of outdoor cats doesn't exist - if someone mentioned an outdoor cat I'd think of a cat that never went inside, like idk a barn cat. a website I found said 90% of cats in the uk can go outdoors but based on what I'm seeing on your feed and Tumblr it's very different for you?

Yes, I'm serious.

I suppose it's also a natural instinct of coyotes (US), foxes (UK) and hawks to kill cats, so isn't it cruel to prevent that? Cats may have natural instincts but they are not part of nature. They're not part of your local ecosystem, you brought it there. Do you only care about your cat fulfilling its 'natural instincts' and nothing else?

Let's say you have, oh I dunno, the Xenomorph from Alien. Let's say you love it a lot. Are you gonna set it free on the neighborhood because its natural instinct is to kill?

If you believe children shouldn't stick their fingers in the wall socket even if they want to, shouldn't you just not have children?

And yes there is plenty of scientific proof. Cats are not native ANYWHERE. If your cat just stays in a fenced garden or maybe a catio, it's fine, but studies found that cats' kill counts are so high because even 'freeroaming' cats roam less than their wild counterparts (i.e. jungle cats) and thus kill in a more concentrated area. They also kill for fun and not just to eat. Cats have contributed to the extinction of 63 species of birds, mammals, and reptiles in the wild, I'm directly quoting an article here.

Very weird of you to push the American button just because I disagree with you, I am in fact South Korean, and oh believe me outdoor cats are barely a thing here. Cats here are either firmly indoors or stray, save for very rare cases. Most cat owners (and people in general) live in the city and if they let their cats out, a variety of things could happen - such as their cats eating trash and getting sick, being hit by a car, or being killed (or worse, captured and tortured) by ill-meaning people (which has very well happened before).

+ Edit) Let's talk cruelty. What is more cruel, a cat being bored out of its skin, or the cat being flattened by a car, or countless small animals being torn apart and left to die? All of which is preventable with a few extra steps from the cat owner.

In my opinion, having cats (or any other pet) is a lot like raising children. Of course their needs should be paid attention to, but they themselves don't always know the best way to go about fulfilling those needs and it's your responsibility to keep them safe and happy at the same time. You can't let them do whatever they like all the time. AND, you are responsible for what your pets/children do.

#snake got an ask #anonymous #dni if you're an outdoor cat person /hj /srs

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listen-to-the-inner-walrus · 4 months

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okay so normally when i make informative posts about current news, i try to always link a source for it (i tend to rely on the guardian) or at least explain the source of it.

but i dont know if the government are planning to publicise this or quietly implement it so im hesitant to give details on where i got this info. im just gonna say it was from someone/s who works in the department of work and pensions, and hope that my prior post history speaks well enough of me for you to trust that this isnt misinformation.

i dont like doing this but i think this information is too important for me not to share it and said info is fucking disgusting.

starting in march, in the uk, if you ask at the job centre for a voucher for a local foodbank, you are going to be turned away.

under the current system, if you go to a job centre that has a food bank referral service, the staff will fill in a slip (theyre advised not to call it a voucher but tomayto tomarto you know?) and refer you to a local charity which will allocate you food according to the slip.

that ends on march 1st. after that, they will just hopefully signpost you to other services that can help you get an emergency food parcel. that will likely involve you having to travel somewhere, potentially on a public transport, costing you more money that you dont have. and that does not guarantee that you will get the food you need either that day or at all.

our government does not care about its citizens, but especially not about us who are poor. they see the working class, the impoverished and the homeless as subhumans. they see us as what new right sociologist and white nationalist libertarian charles murray coined the underclass.

and you know this because of how the current system will be working from now until the end of february because if youre gonna stab someone while theyre bleeding to death, you might as well double tap it, ay?

from now until february 29th, you now must have an interview so that they can be "sure" that you need that food.

bear in mind that this does not cost the government anything. they are not losing money because of this service, if you want to call it that.

and that interview? that could take up to 3 days; its whenever they have a timeslot within 3 days of your asking. you could go in and say "i have no money and i have no food, i havent eaten for days, please help," and they could tell you to come back in three days, and then not even give you that slip of paper anyway.

this could kill someone. yes, it takes longer than three days to starve to death, but if someone is struggling that much to need help acquiring food, theyre gonna have more problems going on. people might choose food over heating and freeze to death; they might decide to eat food thats gone off and end up dying from it because they couldnt call 999 because they didnt have electricity; they might decide to try and injure themselves so bad that they have an extended stay in hospital as a way to get food and die in the process; they might not have eaten in weeks and starve to death.

but hey, if you do pass the interview process, youll get the referral you needed up to three days ago and a discussion about how better to manage your finances, because hey, youve already stabbed the stabbed person two more times, why not twist the fucking knife?

#uk politics #ukpol #british politics #britpol #britposting #food banks #long post #job centre #i dont know what to tag this as #i also dont like posting this without more details on the source of the info #but i dont know if the government are planning to publicise it and i dont want to risk them getting in trouble #rishi sunak #tories #fuck the tories #conservatives #conservative party #anti tories

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f10werfae · 2 years

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Baby Doctor

pairing: Husband!Dad!Henry Cavill x Doctor!Reader

summary: Fans retell the events of what’s going on in the Cavill fam, especially with two new arrivals, the twins Poppy and Lucy

Requested by @stormcloudss

- Requests are open!

Likes, Comments and Re-blogs are appreciated♥️

Henry Cavill Masterlist🌟

Full Masterlist✨

Taglist Form💫

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

@/hensvavyvirl: Y/n is absolutely glowing after just having two baby cavills, just saw pap pics of Henry tying her hair up for her🫣🫣

>> @/marveldcgirl: Henrys new post about Y/n going back to work after giving birth is so emotional, he just loves her so so much

@/pieceofmind: Poppy and Lucy are such cute names, I just can’t contain myself after Y/n announced her and Henry are moving to the UK. I REPEAT THEY ARE MOVING BACK TO THE UK. They said in an interview that they want to raise their kids where they grew up

@/Atlasgiver: Y/n said she can’t wait to start in a new hospital, HENRY POSTED A VIDEO OF HER POSING IN HER NEW SCRUBS AND HE WAS WHISTLING AT HER 😭😭

>> @/winstonwho: I GOT DR Y/N AS MY CONSULTANT IN A&E AND SHE WAS SO SWEET AND NICE, FELT LIKE A MOTHER FIGURE

@/poppyrose: Seeing Henry as a girl dad makes me wanna cry out of joy. When I saw pics of him tying up the twins hair into mini pigtails, while Y/n got their baby booties on😭

>> @/lizziebet: I’m pretty sure I saw them at a park in my local estate, they were on a family walk. Kid you not both Poppy and Lucy were the ones holding onto kal's leash, and he is so gentle not to pull on them. THEN HENRY AND Y/N ARE HOLDING HANDS AND SHARING KISSES WHILE BEHIND THEM OMG

@/DChabes: Y/n and Henry on date night is the sweetest thing, bro I jus want what they have

@/HenryCavill: Glad i’m doing life with @/Y/nCavill♥️

>> @/Y/nCavill: Baby stop tryna butter me up and go change the girls' diapers😭😭 Dinner isn’t making itself

@/DailyTelegraph: Henry Cavill seen getting affectionate with wife Y/n Cavill by Hyde Park, babies Poppy and Lucy also in tow in prams beside them!

@/Listjaet: I remember watching Y/n's pregnancy on her youtube channel, and now I can’t believe i’m watching her go through motherhood

>> @/bobbyjo: I still remember her video when she first found out, and she surprised Henry by giving him a rugby ball with the words “Future No.1 Daddy” sewed into it 🥺

@/Bettieboops: According to Y/n, Henry can’t keep his hands to himself when it comes to her☠️ He’s constantly on her or annoying her whenever the girls are put down to sleep

>> @/HenryCavill: Well she never seems to complain when it’s happening so…

@/buttercuppuckerup: I just know Poppy and Lucy have Henry wrapped round their fingers, I’ve witnessed this man build a bookshelf for his wife, I can’t imagine what he’d do for his kids

>> @/Y/nCavill: He literally bought a sewing machine and is learning how to make yarn dolls😭 Then he is adamant that their bassinets are in our room for at least two days of the week for “bonding time”

@/truthberolled: Ok but Miss Y/n post pregnancy 🫣 That woman is fine asf, Henry care to share?

>> @/HenryCavill: No can do

@/peppersaor: Seeing how far they’ve come as a couple genuinely makes me tear up🥺 We lit watched them from the very start too when they first announced they were dating

@/freedi: Y/n in scrubs can step on me any day of the week, smart and beautiful?? Damn Henry got lucky

@/luckofdirish: Just saw Henry and Y/n on the beach with their babies. Each of them had one between their legs while they played with the sand, and both of them were wearing pink suits with tiny baby bucket hats. I swear I saw Poppy try to eat sand at one point because Henry had to keep pulling his hand out of her mouth

>> @/luckofdirish: Then when Henry went into the water, EACH BABY HAD THEIR OWN SUN CHAIR, it was honestly the cutest thing. Mama Y/n and her babies chilling under the umbrella while Henry played about in the ocean. Poppy and Lucy were very much jus sipping on their juice boxes while Y/n read them a book

@/user2586478: Omg that insta photo Y/n posted of Henry holding Poppy and Lucy’s hand against the sunset😭 Wtaf they’re such a cute family, i’m so glad they’re pretty open about their family for the most part, with us fans

>> @/dettypig: I totally get what you mean! I love how we basically get to see their family grow, without seeing the most intimate parts of their lives, because of course everyone deserves privacy. I can’t wait to see Henry building PCs for Poppy and Lucy when they’re older, Henry will be heartbroken if they’re not gamers like him🙃

@/legend69647: Dr Y/n just took my appointment at the hospital and she’s so much more beautiful in person, pics of Henry and the girls are literally everywhere

>> @/HorridHenrietta: Don’t even. I had her as well and she was blood amazing, she was so gentle when she had to examine my broken arm and she even gave my son free stickers even though he wasn’t the patient

@/Y/nCavill: Please can people stop trying to bombard our family home to get pics of the girls!! We are the only ones allowed to share pictures of our family and we’d appreciate if the paps respected that.

>> @/HenryCavill: I’d like to follow this by saying our girls are scared, legal action will be taken if this harassment doesn’t stop. Thank you for our fans who understand our situation♥️

>>> @/boompower: right which one of yall are attacking this poor family☠️ Don’t yall know basic respect and privacy? The girls are barely 3 and yet all they are getting is cameras shoved in their faces. Do Better.

@/pearpotur: Seeing Henry go all protective on the red carpet over his girls is so cute. He always has one arm around his wife’s waist, Poppy on his hip and Lucy on Y/n's or the other way round♥️♥️

———

Taglist Tags (Form is up there^^): @princess-paramour @stormcloudss @uwiuwi @marvelgurl @taramaria @mysticfalls01 @kebabgirl67 @fdl305 @madebylilly @dumb-fawkin-bitch @vrittivsanghavi @beck07990 @kimhtoo17 @thereisa8ella @pandaxnienke

#romance #henry cavill #henry cavill oneshot #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fanfiction

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earthstellar · 8 months

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Imagine Cybertronians on Earth, already trying to get their translation systems/linguistic programs to figure out organic chirpy noises (human talk)

Like, the Autobots on the Arc (which landed in the USA) finally figure out English and probably like various forms of locally relevant Spanish etc. (Mexican, Puerto Rican, Cuban, and so on) just to be Extra Sure they can communicate with different humans in their immediate area

And then they find out there are multiple types of English, and the confusion begins

UK Person: "I have a hen party on Sunday!"

Cybertronian: "A party for the Chicken animal??? Or is it about the Chicken animal?"

USA Person: "They mean a Bachelorette party."

Cybertronian, furiously searching language banks: "Your mating rituals are fascinating; Based on your perception of traditional and cultural concepts of gender, you gather similarly gendered humans, isolate yourselves from your mate immediately prior to your bonding ceremony, and get arrested while severely intoxicated as a way to celebrate securing a beloved partner??"

Humans: "Uh, yes. Although getting drunk and arrested isn't--"

Cybertronian: "Do they arrest the chickens as well? Organics are strange, why does avian incarceration factor into your bonding celebration?"

Humans: "What? No, I mean, a lot of people will eat chicken--"

Cybertronian: "You consume your bonding celebration animal??? Is this the 'hen party'? Teletraan's data banks contain historical texts on ancient human hunting tactics and behaviours, but these do not elaborate on modern human culture. Do you remove the chicken to a preferred hunting terrain for the ritual?"

the entire conversation makes everyone involved feel delirious by the end of it, lmao

#transformers #maccadam #maccadams #g1 transformers #sorta g1 anyway #although this could apply to any TF series really #any first interavtions with humans lol

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the-modern-typewriter · 7 months

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Hi!

My best friend's short story collection just came out!! (It's here on Goodreads).

Ancient British myths reimagined According to stories, we share our world with a menagerie of mysterious creatures. What happens when those creatures appear in the modern world? Do fairies still like traditional offerings of herbs and spices? Do unicorns still live in forests? Do sea serpents still yearn to eat innocent maidens? This collection of stories brings myths from across the UK to a modern world with offices, cities and fast food restaurants. The consequences are often comedic, sometimes horrific and always surprising.

I haven't written my proper goodreads review for it yet (it's on the agenda) but as a huge queer fairytale fan I loved it!

The style is just delightfully cosy and funny compared to anything I could ever come up with. I also really like that at the end she talks about all of the original versions of the myths, so if you're interested in local folklore from the UK it's also great for that.

Give it a go if you fancy reading about Jack Frost falling in love with the Green Man, goblins running amok in the office printer, ghost dogs and more!

You can talk to her on Twitter or whatever it's called @ficcaholic.

#short story collection #short stories #fairytales #fairy tales #myths and legends #books #bookblr #reading #new books #book rec #book recommendation #anthology #unicorns #fairies #goblins #the loch ness monster

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pitconfirmbutton · 1 year

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wildflowers and fruits (I) | lance stroll

lance stroll x reader

wc: 4833 words

warnings: controlling relationship (not an f1 driver, made up character), physical abuse (never written but implied), emotional abuse, eating disorder/not eating, smoking, 2 tiny mentions of su*cide (not depicted but implied) everyone is sad, so very sad

wildflowers and fruits (part i)

petals and peaches (part ii)

summer roses and winter strawberries (part iii)

carnations and clementines (part iv)

____________________________________________________

“You don’t even love him, Bug, you know that, don’t you?” Seb had always been right, whether it was his knack for details or the wisdom of age, he was never wrong. That was why you had jumped at his offer to mentor you through your first year as a Formula 1 driver, well one of many reasons why.

You brushed his hand from your shoulder and stood up. “Thanks for the coffee, Seb.” He had figured it out and it scared you but he couldn’t know that. He grabbed your hand, a last-ditch effort to talk some sense into you. “I’ll sponsor you! I will sponsor the team, whatever he pays, I will double it. Just please don’t feel like you have to do this.” He looked up at you, his blonde curls dishevelled from running his hands through them and his eyes wide and pleading, staring straight into your soul. “I love him, Seb” and with that you pulled your hand from his, leaving your driver’s room for the garage.

---

Lance watched as you made your way into the engineering room, apologising for your tardiness, as you quickly took your seat and put your headset on. You didn’t look up, you didn’t turn to him and smile. Lance frowned, the weather in Singapore was unbearably hot, his Aston Martin t-shirt and shorts bringing him, not nearly as much reprieve as he wished. But in comparison to you, he felt cold, your body covered by an Aston Martin hoodie and leggings. He knew why, all the drivers did. Despite his naive and at times spaced-out appearance, he picked up on things, especially when it came to you.

The latest title sponsor for Aston Martin, ‘Securitic’, a large UK-based crypto banking app, was owned by Harry Lyons, a pompous, sharp-dressed British man whose good looks charmed many into thinking he wasn’t a terrible person. But Lance knew. To be fair, even Yuki knew, Oscar too, despite the young drivers being rather wet behind the ears. Lance hated the man keeping his racing team afloat, a phrase never before uttered by a Formula 1 driver. Why? Harry Lyons had trapped his teammate and the love of his life.

Lance had met you back in Italian Formula 4, you were 14, he was 15 and you were teammates in Prema, coming in 2nd behind him in the championship that year. His dad had nudged him as you walked into the trailer, hinting at him to pick his jaw off the floor. Since then you had both become the best of friends, finally meeting back up as teammates to drive in Aston Martin together. He just never mentioned how deeply in love with you he had fallen.

“How did you find the brake bias change, Lance?” He was pulled from his thoughts, looking up to his engineer, Ben. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, it was better than FP1 for sure.” Ben nodded along, scribbling a note on his paper before continuing. Lance’s gaze drifted back to you, shocking himself when he met your eyes, gazing over your laptop at him. He smiled softly and lifted his hand, giving you a small wave. You smiled back but it never reached your eyes, a smile he didn’t recognise.

After an engineering meeting and a PR meeting, Lance was free, leaving the motorhome to be enveloped in the warm Singaporean air, the smell of rubber and oil mixing with the smell of local food and flowers. “Lance!” He turned around to find the voice, seeing Esteban, Pierre and Charles walking through the paddock towards him. “Hey guys, how are you all?” The company was welcome, pulling him from his thoughts. “Good mate! The car is actually looking good for us” Esteban explained, Pierre nodding along in agreeance. Before Lance could ask Charles about his day too, he watched the Monégasque roll his eyes, tracking something across the paddock. “What a wanker!” Lando had slotted himself in between Charles and Pierre, also distracted by the sight in front of him. Lance turned around, heart sinking as he watched you walk beside Harry towards the paddock exit.

As Lance watched, he noticed your body language, your jaw tightly set, shoulders rigid and eyes wide, staring down at the ground. You appeared to be holding hands but on second glance, your fingers were splayed, your hand being crushed by Harry’s possessive grip. Lance saw red, taking a step forward to instinctively protect you before Esteban’s hand found his shoulder. “Not in the middle of the paddock, mate. Not now.” He was right. As Lance turned around he saw numerous reporters, all live on camera. As much as Lance dreamed of breaking Harry’s nose to the left, it wasn’t the best decision for your career or his for that matter. He looked back at you, making eye contact for the second time today as you walked past, your eyes quickly falling back to the floor. Lance’s eyes then settled on the devil’s. Harry simply looked Lance up and down, smirking at him, before turning you to him and kissing your lips harshly. Lance looked away, feeling sick to his stomach. “Can we please just go?” Lance’s voice was meek and the group was quick to rally around him. As they walked to the exit, they chatted about their plans for the weekend, the FIA sponsor gala and the sick feeling they all had watching you with Harry was seemingly avoided within the conversation.

---

It was 2 am and tomorrow was FP3 and qualifying and that meant you should have been asleep 5 hours ago but here you were, wide awake. This was how most nights went for you now, Harry taking you back to the hotel suite or his Monaco penthouse, either having sex with you or screaming at you through a locked bathroom door and then you inevitably up, unable to sleep as he lay there peacefully. It had gone on for just over 3 months now, ever since he had pulled you into a dark meeting room at the Silverstone HQ and explained everything he wanted. You could still hear his voice in your head.

“I have been watching you for a while darling and I know how much you value Stroll Junior, so, if you want him to have a race seat for next year, I recommend you listen rather closely. I also recommend that you don’t tell anyone about this little arrangement, otherwise, you and little Stroll may both be seatless for next year. I wouldn’t doubt it, sweetheart, Lawrence and I go an awful way back, that is the reason why he gave me such a good contract, which stipulates that I even have control over the future Aston Martin lineup.”

You shivered, the memory making you feel cold as you sat by the hotel pool, cigarette perched between your fingers as you lamented your situation. It was a bad habit, especially for a professional athlete but it seemed to be the only control you had these days, between your strict F1 schedule and Harry’s restriction on anything that brought you joy, you justified the cigarette. You also allowed yourself the luxury of a tank top and shorts in the warm weather, the only light cast over your ever-thinning body and the purple marks that littered it was coming from the entrance hall to the pool area, at least 20 metres away.

You took a long drag and looked out over the city, wishing at that moment that you could be anyone else. An F1 fan barely able to sleep from the excitement of the impending race, a child in a soft slumber, a night shift worker, slaving away to make less money in a year than I made off one race. You would trade roles in a heartbeat, just to be away from Harry.

Footsteps broke you from your thoughts and you froze in place, a default response after these last few months. From the dark garden bed in the corner you were perched on, you squinted to see who had joined you in your melancholy. Lance. Of course, it was Lance. Your heart ached to look at him, his hair was as boofy as the day you met and you had to stop yourself from chuckling at the way he dragged his slipper-clad feet over the pool tiles, a comforting shuffle noise echoing out. The sound brought you back to beach holidays together, the sound of flip-flops on a boardwalk and the feeling of the sun on your neck and of snowed-in days in Canada, slippers on a wood cabin floor as yourself, Lance, Chloe, Scotty and Jack the dog made pancakes and played Monopoly together.

But none of that happiness existed anymore and those memories felt like they belonged to someone else. In a way they did because you were here looking at the pool wondering which poor staff member would find you at the bottom and Lance was over there, crying enough tears to fill it up all over again. He was crying. Why? Your heart sank further and the guilt you felt inside was enough to make you want to throw up the one apple you’d eaten yesterday. As you peeked further around the monstera shielding you from view, your foot slipped, garden pebbles tumbling onto the pool tiles below.

“Who’s there?” Lance called out into the darkness, wiping his eyes quickly and standing up. You were speechless. You hadn’t uttered more than a ‘hello’, ‘good luck’ or ‘see you around’ in 3 and a half months and you didn’t know what you would say if he found you. “I didn’t know the Ritz-Carlton had a pool boy ghost?” Lance chuckled to himself as he made his way over cautiously. It was good to know his awkward humour hadn’t left since you last talked. There was probably no avoiding this, so here goes nothing. As you stood up and emerged from behind the plants, Lance stopped dead in his tracks, mouth hanging open. Except it wasn’t like when you caught him staring at you in that god-awful bright blue Sherri Hill prom dress at the 2014 FIA gala, this time he wasn’t in awe, he was horrified.

“Hey, Lance.” You stood there in a spaghetti strap tank, Italian national team soccer shorts and no shoes, hair pulled back into a ponytail, exposing your ever-fading cheeks, cigarette still smoking in your right hand. His eyes dragged down your body in the same way you imagined it would look to drag your hand over sandpaper, his mouth in a thin line, trying to hold back how terrorised he was seeing you this way. One on your left wrist, three on your upper right arm, more than he could count across your shins and knees, one on the left-hand side of your abdomen and as he brought his eyes to yours, he gasped. One growing darker by the minute right around your left eye. You suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious, remembering why you had only given yourself a reprieve from the heat under the blanket of darkness.

“I-I should probably go, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You quickly snubbed your cigarette, chuckling it into the bin before starting to walk back to the hallway, brushing past Lance along the way. “Hey, no, wait, we um, we haven’t talked in so long, buttercup. I am really worried about you.” His eyes carried so much love that you considered throwing yourself into his arms again, knowing he would do anything to keep you safe, but in turn, ruining his career and that is all you were worried about.

“I’ve just been busy, I’m fi-” How were you supposed to stand here looking the way you were and tell him you’re fine? You didn’t have the strength to tell him everything and you knew that if you stayed here much longer, Harry might wake up and come looking for you and that would be the end of both of your careers. You tried to think of what to say but Lance got there first.

“Does Seb know?” You shook your head. The man wasn’t dumb if anything quite the opposite and you suspected he knew. Hanna had even talked to you a few times about your relationship and you suspect it was because they were both worried. Your parents were out of the picture, meaning that the Vettels had been the closest thing you had to a mum and dad. You suspected Harry had also picked up on your lack of familial ties too.

“Did I do anything wrong, Petal?” His eyes were glassy again and you wondered if when he had been crying earlier, he had been crying about you. You again wanted to fling yourself into his arms and give him the world, the emotions resulting in you letting your guide down for a second. “You could never do anything wrong, Lanny.” The nickname tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop it and it tasted of home-cooked pasta, overpriced beach ice cream and red-wine-tainted kisses. Before you let him answer you continued. “You did nothing wrong, this is all me, please just don’t worry about me. I’ve got you, ok? You are going to be ok. I will see you tomorrow.” And before Lance could process what that meant, you had slipped past him, back to your hotel room to hop under the sheets and lie as still as possible so as not to wake Harry.

---

You were surprised you had even finished the race at all, let alone ended up in P4. It was the kind of race in which you hoped you would DNF, engine overheat, electric issue, or plough head-first into the wall - all were options that crossed your mind during the 61 laps. Lance had gotten P3 and your heart swelled with pride for him. The mechanics tapped you on the back and pulled you along to the podium to watch. You hadn’t seen Lance up there on those steps in 3 months, despite him scoring numerous 2nd and 3rd place victories. ‘Go and stand under his podium and clap all you want, just don’t come crying to me when the world calls you a gold-digging whore, dear’. It was enough for you to not go anymore. That and the look in Harry’s eyes when he said it. There was no compromising on this. But when you watched the podium celebrations back, always in the early hours of the morning with a cigarette in hand, on a balcony, roof-top or terrace somewhere, you never missed the way his eyes scanned the team, hoping to catch you down there, smiling up at him.

This time you would get to do that, although you were suspicious about how you had made it to the podium celebration without a firm grip pulling you away. When you turned back around, looking through the team, you saw him, linen suit pressed and arms folded. He didn’t scowl at you this time, instead raising an eyebrow at you and cocking his head. Your blood ran cold. His unpredictability scared you the most. What was he planning?

You quickly whipped your head back to the podium, clapping softly as the team cheered and screamed for Lance as he made his way to the 3rd place step. His eyes caught yours as he skimmed the team, glancing past you before backtracking to make sure you were real and not a dehydration-induced mirage. He smiled brightly and waved. In that moment, riding the high of the podium he believed that last night had fixed everything, that you had gone back to your room and dumped Harry, gotten a night of good sleep, eaten breakfast, and covered your black eye in makeup while singing along to The Beach Boys as you used to every morning. He let himself believe that you were coming back to him and in that moment you let yourself also go along with that crazy thought. The idea that Harry had maybe let you go to the podium celebration because he was done with you because he wanted to break up and free you.

He had come back to the garage, drenched in champagne, smile wide and toothy. He couldn’t take a step without being congratulated again. ‘Thanks, man’, ‘I appreciate it, bro’, ‘couldn’t have done it without you’. They were sincere, every word but he was on a mission. Mid-conversation and trying to track down your body within the garage.

“Lance! Well done, an amazing drive, truly fantastic defending from Charles there at the end.” Seb was your mentor but that didn’t stop him from showing his ex-teammate some love when he did well. “Thanks, hey have you seen her?” Lance’s eyes were still darting around as Seb held his shoulders, having pulled back from a quick hug. “Already left, gone to go and get pretty for tonight, I suspect.” Lance had just gotten a trophy and yet he couldn’t control the way his face dropped at you having already left, without congratulating him first. “She’s already pretty” was all he could mumble out. Seb patted his shoulder and nodded, his smile tight-lipped, acknowledging the hurt in the young Aston Martin driver's voice. “I agree, Lance, I agree,” he said contemplatively.

---

Boss had provided Lance with a deep green suit for tonight’s FIA Sponsor's gala at Marina Bay Sands, along with a pair of black, shiny loafers. He thanked the universe that the material was light as he placed his jacket on before slipping out of his room to meet Mick and Esteban in the hotel bar for a drink before they left for the event. On the elevator ride down, he let himself imagine what you might be wearing tonight and let his cheeks darken at the thought of the dresses he had seen you in for galas and events over the years, standing out like a daisy growing in a patch of grass. His heart sank once again as he thought about how you were probably trying to cover bruises, doing a 360 spin in front of the mirror. Not to admire yourself but to ensure no one would find out the truth.

Mick and Esteban waved at him from the bar, sliding a gin and tonic over to him as he took a seat with them. “Looking very dashing, mate.” Esteban gave him an eyebrow raise and two thumbs up, Mick laughing along at his antics. A ‘thanks’ was all Lance had replied with before grabbing his drink and downing ¾ of it, not noticing the way the his friends looked at each other in worry.

“You know you can always talk to us right, Lance? I speak for both of us when I say that it is awful seeing you so down the last few months.” Mick grabbed his shoulder firmly but the grip provided Lance with some comfort, enough comfort to tell his two friends just how sad he really was, and more importantly, why.

“Wait, so you had started seeing each other in private… and she left you for Harry?” Mick had a quizzical look on his face, trying to determine whether he had gotten the timeline correct. Lance nodded, taking a small sip of the remaining ¼ of his G&T. “That is really not like her, is it?” Esteban followed up with. Lance nodded again. “Oh! Oh… Oh ok, I put it together.” Esteban said, composing himself as he realised what answer he had stumbled upon. “What?” Mick was slightly confused, still trying to work out why one of the sweetest, most loyal people he knew left Lance for Harry. “Mate, I know you aren’t blind, surely you see the awful way he treats her, I suspect… obviously I don’t know but I think he might be forcing her hand a bit.” Esteban chose his words carefully, glancing at Lance occasionally as he informed Mick of his hypothesis. “I had my suspicions but I guess I just wanted to live in denial for a while.” The boys sat quietly for a few minutes, all deep in thought regarding the unearthed information.

“Wait, how long had you two been seeing each other?” It was like Esteban to have an unnecessary follow-up question. “2 months, no one knew though, I don’t think even Harry does. I mean… I am well aware that he knows I am head over heels for her, he takes every opportunity to remind me that I lost but he doesn’t seem to know we were seeing each other.” The group hummed in contemplation once again.

“I think we should talk to Seb about this. I trust his advice and he always has good ideas.” Lance nodded, standing up from the bar before heading to the venue with the others.

When he entered, he was congratulated some more, by everyone except the person that mattered most, you. He spotted you over to the side, chatting with Securitic higher-ups and just like had happened all those years ago, his jaw hit the floor. You were in a long sleeve, floor-length dress, emerald green but overlaid with intricate floral lace, orange, red, pink and yellow flowers standing out. Your hair fell around your face and your lips had the faintest hint of sparkle and for a second Lance let himself wonder if they tasted like strawberry, just like they had that night under the dim lights of your villa’s balcony in Spain. And just like all those years ago, he felt an elbow nudge his side. He turned his head, looking over at his father.

“I always thought that you two would end up together. A woman as sweet and fierce as her, she always had you wrapped around her finger. I never saw her with a guy like Harry, so brash and inauthentic.” Lance scrunched his eyebrows at his father’s comment, he had never heard him speak ill of Harry, even for a second, so the comment caught him off-guard. “What do you mean, Dad?” Lance knew he was just snooping now, but he had the tiniest speck of hope. His father was a kind and family-oriented man but Lawrence Stroll, the businessman, got rid of people the second they couldn’t continue his vision, and god he hoped Harry was in that category. “Let’s just say a lot is happening behind closed doors right now that I can’t discuss but… he wasn’t the man I thought he was.”

Mick and Seb had tucked themselves inconspicuously away from the bustle of crowds and conversations and were chatting about hiking trips before Mick blurted out his question. “What do you do if you think a friend is in a relationship she can’t escape?” Mick cringed internally at the execution of his question but he knew he had to rip it off like a bandaid, so to speak. “It sure doesn’t help when that someone she is with is a multi-billion dollar sponsor” Seb muttered, more to himself than Mick, but regardless, the young German was shocked to hear what Seb had said. He knew too. “You know?” “I have had my suspicions for a long time. Only so many bruises you can get from training before I don’t believe you anymore.” Mick knew Seb was trying to keep it light-hearted and when he looked into the older man's eyes, he could see the tears forming.

It pained Seb as much as it pained your grid mates. You were incredibly close with Mick, having weaselled your way into his introverted heart when you had mentioned never having a dog before politely asking if you could come on a walk with Angie sometime. You were so simple, yet so complex at the same time, you and Mick had never run out of things to talk about. You were the bright sunshine and he was the glowing moon, complete opposites that just work. Just worked, past tense. Like Lance, he hadn’t gotten more than a hello since Harry came along.

Esteban, Mick, Lance, Charles, Lando and Pierre had made an impromptu circle to discuss the race together, laughing at Lando’s misfortune in losing his front wing six seconds into the race. Lance had finally gotten you out of his mind for the first time today before the clinking of a wine glass was heard and all the boys looked up to see Harry standing next to you. Lance’s heart sank. Charles placed his hand on Lance’s shoulder, a physical and emotional support. Lance had never confessed his crush for you to any of the other drivers, excluding Esteban and Mick an hour ago, but they all knew, especially Charles who had noticed long before you all made it to Formula 1.

“Hey everyone, I just wanted to start off by saying a big thank you to the FIA for hosting us tonight at this amazing gala.” Eye roll, from all six men standing together. “As I am sure you all know, I have been with a very special woman now for a while. She drives a Formula 1 car and she is drop-dead gorgeous, what more could you want right?” While Harry chuckled, eliciting a laugh from the douchebag CEOs at the event, Lance’s fists balled tighter and tighter, hearing the words that dripped from his mouth, so insincere, so misogynistic. He looked across at you, a well-trained PR smile on your face. To anyone who didn’t know you, it looked genuine. But it wasn’t your happy smile. It wasn’t the smile you had when he had won you a Pikachu plushie at the arcade or the smile on your face when you got offered an F1 seat with your best friend and it wasn’t the smile on your face when Chloe and Scotty had told you that their daughter’s name was Daisy, your middle name. You weren’t happy right now, you were feigning happiness to survive. Building all your walls up to stay safe.

“Well, honey, I have only one question for you…” Pierre gasped and looked at the rest of his friends, trying to see if he was reading the situation correctly. Lando hadn’t got there yet but everyone else had. Lance was in a state of shock, feeling only Charles’ hand rub his shoulder and his heart break into a million pieces. Seb had grabbed Hanna, not out of joy or surprise but out of horror and shock, holding tightly to his rock in order to process the terrible event. He was about to propose to you… in front of your friends, bosses, rivals and sponsors because he knew you couldn’t say no in front of people.

“Will you marry me?” And with that, Harry got down on one knee in front of you. You had been focusing so hard on smiling and not crying that you had taken a second to even process that he was in front of you, on one knee with a little velvet box and the flashiest and most kitsch ring you had ever seen. You knew he didn’t know you at all, he didn’t even know your favourite colour, but this ring couldn’t be more unlike you if he tried. If anything, it looked like he was proposing to himself with how outlandish it was. You broke yourself away from the thought to look at the crowd, your PR smile still sitting perfectly on your strawberry-scented lips, a taste Harry said he couldn’t stand.

There he was, the man you thought and had always wished would be down on one knee for you, asking you to be his wife. Except he was standing in between your friends, all with shocked and scared expressions on their faces. While everyone else was politely clapping or cheering for you and Harry, they, along with Seb and Hanna looked distraught. You looked back to your teammate, realising you only had a few more seconds before you would be forced to answer and you wanted to spend every single one of them staring at Lance Stroll, the love of your life, your best friend. You tried to send him an ‘I’m sorry’ message with your eyes but it felt helpless.

Time was up and you looked back down at Harry, his jaw was stiff and his eyes daring you to say no. You were well and truly trapped and you had no way out.

“Yes. I will marry you.” With that, everyone cheered and clapped, except your loved ones. As you placed your chin on Harry’s shoulder, embracing him, you watched Lance wipe away his tears before turning around to walk off, Charles and Mick chasing after him. Lando stood there, his mouth wide while Esteban and Pierre shook their heads sadly before trying to coax Lando out of shock. You couldn’t see Seb and Hanna but you knew they were here and you knew they would be disappointed.

You just hoped that one day you could apologise for all of this.

____________________________________________________

Don't worry y'all, part 2 will be coming very soon. Thanks for letting me vent in the form of lance stroll angst at 2am. Love you all <3

#lance stroll #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll x y/n #lance stroll x you #lance stroll angst #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fic

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solarisstyles · 8 months

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MS. HONEY: FIELD DAY

Pairing: Harry Styles x F!Reader Word Count: 3.8k+ Warnings: tooth rotting fluff!, mentions of heights, kissing Summary: It takes a village to raise a special needs child. Gemma's son is growing up and starting kindergarten in the fall. Uncle Harry is struggling with not being able to spend all day, everyday, with his nephew who he's grown quite attached to. When he accompanies Gemma and Arlo on his first day of school, he meets Ms.Honey. Harry decides Kindergarten might not be so bad after all. A/N: For the sake of the story, Gemma and Harry live in the states. I know more about the school system in America than the UK so it just made sense! This story is not meant to be a 100% depiction of what a family of this dynamic is like. Harry and Gemma Styles are very real people and are only being used for fictional purposes!

*please like and reblog to help your local fic writers*

Dear Parents,

This coming up Wednesday will be the lower school’s day for Field Day! We plan on having a lot of activities for your kids to do and a day full of FUN! Most of our time will be spent outside so I’ve written up a list of things your child should bring or have done at home before they come to school.

What to Wear:

School T-shirt

Tennis Shoes or Athletic Sandals (No Flip Flops please!)

Hat (Optional but it will be hot outside!)

Sunscreen

*boys may wear swim trunks for their bottoms*

What to Bring:

Towel

Full change of clothes(Don’t forget socks and undies)

Lunch

A plastic bag for dirty/wet clothes

We will eat lunch in the classroom and change into dry clothes after our water activities.

We’re going to have some SWEET fun!

-Ms.Honey

- - - - - - - - -

Harry immediately texted you after Gemma showed him the Field Day note, demanding that he be put down as a volunteer.

You laughed at the text, images of an overly excited Harry bouncing throughout your head when you read it. You assured him that he would be first on the list as her class helper. Ten minutes later Harry’s face lit up your phone screen as he called you. An amused smile curved your lips as you answered, “Hello?”

“I’m annoyed.” he instantly huffed.

Your immediate reaction was to laugh but you held it together, “Why are you annoyed?”

“Gemma wants to volunteer too.” he grumbled.

The pout was evident in his tone and you couldn’t help but giggle. “You’re annoyed that Gemma wants to volunteer for her son’s class?” you asked.

“Well…no. It’s not just Gemma.” he sighed, rubbing his chin.

“Who else?” you inquired.

“Brad and Lloyd too. They are all magically free this Wednesday.”

“Well that’s lovely! The more help the better!” you cheerfully replied.

His response could only be described as a five year old throwing a tantrum. “But I don’t wanna share!”

You laughed, much to his dismay. It caused him to pout even more and sigh. “That's just more people you have to give your attention to, that isn’t me. And I don’t want my sister and friends to interfere with that.”

It was adorable honestly that he wanted all of your attention. And you knew it was killing him that he had to wait till the end of the school year to officially get all of it. If you had it your way, you’d throw all caution to the wind and give it to him. It was hard to resist those big green eyes that held so much warmth and care.

“Harry, have I ever told you how adorable you are?” you asked, feeling an insane amount of endearment for him.

Harry’s mood drastically shifted from annoyed to shy, “Well… no…” he answered with a soft giggle. His cheeks were the brightest red from blushing, unable to stop himself from smiling.

“Well, you are. I adore that you want all of my attention and I want you to know that if I could then I would give it all to you without a second thought. In only a few short months you’ll have my full undivided attention. So much of it that you’ll get sick of it. I’m so excited to meet you other friends. I know the class will have a blast with all of you. And don’t worry, you’ll still be first on my list.” you couldn’t help but tease him a little bit. He was fun to tease and it was only fair since he enjoyed teasing you too.

“Good” he softly said with a big smile.

“Do you feel better now?” The softness of your voice helped further soothe him. Harry knew he could be a bit…much to handle sometimes. His Mom always encouraged him to express himself and sometimes he had some big feelings to express that some people can’t handle.

He nodded even though you couldn’t see him, “Yeah, I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you asked, confused as to why he was apologizing.

“Oh, um…for getting jealous like that. It’s not really my place to get that way.” he explained, swallowing nervously.

Smiling sweetly at him, you couldn’t help but shake your head, “It’s okay Harry. Seriously. I’ll see you on Wednesday okay?” you reassuringly said.

“Of course. Have a good night Honey.”

“You too Harry.”

- - - - - - - -

When the day came, the school was buzzing with activity. There was a giant blow up water slide in the field, obstacle course games were being set up, teachers and staff were moving about to make sure everything was getting ready.

Volunteers began to show up as kids were being dropped off, going to their kid’s classroom to get the day's instructions from the teacher. Harry, along with Gemma, and his brothers all walked in with Arlo who was excited to show off his cool drawings and play games all day with his friends.

“Welcome in you guys!” You greeted, walking up to the group. Harry smiled at you and pulled you in for a hug and a sneaky kiss to your cheek.

“Good morning.” he whispered, about melting into you when you hugged him back.

“Good morning Mr.Honey.” you whispered back. You hadn’t mentioned the name to Harry since he had lunch with you but judging by the giggle he gave in response and the blush on his cheeks, he loved the way it sounded on your lips.

“Harry, are you gonna introduce us?” Brad asked, one hand resting on his hip in a sassy stance and holding a starbucks cup.

Rolling his eyes, Harry turned so you were tucked into his side, his arm resting around your shoulder. “Honey, this is Brad.” he motioned to the tall, built man that had just spoken. “And this is Lloyd.” gesturing to the equally as tall man next to him.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you two! I’ve heard great things about you both.” Giving them a small wave and a smile.

Brad smiled at Harry, then back to you, “Oh, we’ve heard great things about you too.” He said, earning an elbow to the ribs from Lloyd, “OW!” he yelped, glaring over at his best friend.

Lloyd rolled his eyes, shaking his head and gave you a warm smile as well, “Sorry about him. We usually leave him in the car.”

Brad gave him a faux dumbfounded look, making you laugh. “No worries. You guys are actually my only volunteers today. There’s only seven kids in here so don’t worry I’m not going to overwhelm you.”

They all nodded, seemingly happy with the idea of having the class to themselves for the day.

“They’re letting two classes at a time outside so it’s not as overwhelming. I’ll need you all to help make sure everyone’s on their best behavior, having fun, and keep the stations functionable for the next group that will come after us.” they all nodded once more and mumbled their agreement of understanding.

While your class waited to go outside, you turned off the lights and put on a disney movie for the kids to watch. Looking around the room, you noticed to much of your amusement you saw Harry, Gemma, Brad, and Lloyd just as entranced by the movie as the kids were. Pulling your phone out of your purse you sneakily took a photo to send to Harry later. They looked like they fit right in with your kids and you knew today was going to be fun.

By time the movie was over it was time to line up and go outside. The kids were bouncing in their assigned line spots, chattering about what they were gonna do first when they got outside. The moment you pushed open the door that led to the field they all took off running, eager to join the other class outside.

You watched in pure amusement as Gemma, Brad, and Lloyd also took off to have fun as well. Harry hung back with you though, hanging out in the shade. “You gonna join the fun?” you asked, looking over at him.

He shrugged, looking over to you, “I will in a minute. I want to watch my friends get jumped by a bunch of five year olds.” he smirked.

You laughed, shaking your head, “That’s evil.”

“I like to call it karma for our younger years.” bumping his shoulder with your own, he made his way over to a bucket of water balloons, handing them out to kids.

You stood there and admired him, watching how he effortlessly charmed the kids he interacted with. Even the shyest of kids seemed drawn to him. You understood why though. Harry just had this safe feeling about him.

Making your way across the field to the water slide, you helped students off of it, cheering them on when they would slide down. Looking to your left, you noticed a nervous Gemma standing at the end of the slide, looking up. Following her line of vision, you saw Arlo climbing up the slide. “You okay there?” you asked her.

Not looking away from her son, she nodded. “He hates heights. He’s never liked being up high. He wouldn’t stop whining about going down the slide though.” her voice wavered some as she ranted.

“He’ll be okay Gemma.” you tried to assure her.

Arlo reached the top of the slide, crawling on his knees to the edge he would slide down then froze. The height of the slide had been horribly miscalculated in his head. The drop was a lot longer than it had looked from the ground.

You watched as he froze and began to back away from the edge till his back was pressed against the nylon material. “Uh, oh…” you muttered.

“Arlo!” Gemma nervously called up to him. “You’ve gotta come down Bub!” she forced a smile to try and hide how terrified she was. There was only one way down from this slide and she didn’t know what she was going to do if Arlo didn’t eventually come down.

Arlo shook his head, curling in on himself some as his classmates shook the slide going down it, scaring him further.

Noticing the situation escalating, you moved around the slide, stopping more students from climbing up and redirecting them to other activities, “When our friend comes down I’ll let you guys slide some more.” you said guiding them away.

Harry had noticed the redirection from across the field and jogged over to Gemma, “Hey, what’s going on?” he asked.

“Arlo’s at the top of the slide and won’t come down.” Gemma rushed to say, her chest heaving some in slight panic.

Placing a calming hand on Gemma’s shoulder, he squeezed it, “I’ll go up and get him.” he said, making his way around to you. “I’m here to retrieve the child.” he said, saluting you.

Shaking your head, you stepped aside, “Good luck!” you called to him as he ascended up the ladder.

When Harry got to the top of the slide, he smiled at Arlo who was tucked into a corner, “Hey Bub. You okay?” he asked, scooting over to him.

Arlo shook his head, refusing to meet Harry’s eyes.

“Hey, look at me.” he gently instructed.

It took him a few minutes but Arlo eventually looked up to Harry, his brown eyes big with fear.

“I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you. I know it’s scary but we have to go down the slide. Do you want to sit on my lap and we can both slide down together?” Harry asked.

He could see the figurative gears turning in Arlo’s head before getting a tentative nod, slowly uncurling his body from the corner he’d tucked himself in. Crawling into Harry’s open arms who sighed in relief.

Harry sat there for a moment and held Arlo before moving to sit on the edge of the slide. He situated Arlo on his lap and looked down the slide. Brad and Lloyd now stood next to a panicking Gemma who was looking up at him.

“You can do this Arlo!” he heard you cheer up at them, making him smile.

“See Bub, they’re all cheering for you and waiting for us. Are you ready?” he asked one more time in a soft voice.

His fearful gaze looked down the slide but hesitantly nodded ‘yes’ to his Uncle.

Harry didn’t hesitate and pushed off the edge, playfully ‘woooing’ all the way down till they crashed into the water pool at the bottom of the slide.

You clapped and cheered along with Brad and Lloyd, praising Arlo for his bravery as you offered both of them a helping hand off the slide.

Gemma sighed in relief, taking Arlo into a big hug when he was within arms reach, not caring if she got wet, “I’m so proud of you Bub.” she whispered to her son. Kissing the side of his temple, she sat him back down and watched as he ran off to do something else, not even phased by what had just happened.

Brad and Lloyd went back to their activities they were monitoring, Harry made his way back over to the water balloon bucket, and you opened the slide back up for the kids.

Gemma stood there though trying to shake off the adrenaline rush she was feeling due to the panic she was in. “Gemma.” she heard you call, getting her to look at you.

“You can go sit down if you need a moment.” you offered with a soft smile.

Nodding her head, she took a deep breath, “I think I will. Thanks.” she said, giving you a weak smile in return before crossing the field to the benches that sat under the trees.

Turning back to the slide, you continued to help kids off of it, until you were hit in the back with a water balloon. You screamed at the sudden cold water on your hot skin and soaking your clothes. Whipping your head around, you saw Harry standing a few yards behind you, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

“You’re gonna pay for that Styles!” you yelled at him, walking towards the bucket of balloons and grabbing a few yourself.

The students were laughing and cheering watching you both pursue each other in a balloon fight. Throwing your first shot, he dodged it, the balloon hitting the ground with a splash.

Harry was quick to retaliate, and while you were talented at many things, your reflexes weren’t what you wished they could be. The balloon struck you in the stomach, making you groan in frustration and grow even more determined to get a good hit on him.

Harry lifted his arms doing a victorious cheer for his shot and that’s when you chose to strike. Throwing the balloon when he wasn’t prepared to dodge it, nailing him right in the side. He gasped and looked at you with a dramatic sad face. “You’ve betrayed me!” he yelled, carelessly throwing the rest of his balloons your way.

You laughed loudly, taking the blows of the ones that hit you and then ran towards him throwing the other balloons you also held.

Picking you up around your waist, Harry and you cackled with laughter as he spun you around. Losing his footing, you both fell to the ground, still in a heap of laughter.

Harry looked down at you as he now hovered on top of you. You both smiled at each other as the laughter settled between you both. You saw Harry glance from your eyes to your lips, making you panic slightly. He must have missed the slightly panicked look on your face because he started to lean in.

Desperate to avoid him kissing you in front of your students, you took the last remaining water balloon you held in your hand and smashed it on top of his head.

Harry looked down at you, shocked and speechless. The students around y’all laughed loudly and Harry couldn’t help but smirk at you, shaking his head and standing to his feet. He offered you his hand to help you up which you gladly accepted with a smirk of your own.

Pulling you in close, he whispered in your ear, “You’ll pay for that later.”

You couldn’t help but giggle as you replied, “Don’t threaten me with a good time Harry.” giving him a flirty wink before walking away.

Gemma walked up to Harry and slapped him in the shoulder, “You’re what the kids call, down bad.” before walking over to help with the relay race some of the kids were running in.

Harry looked over to you, back at your spot by the slide, “Yeah I am.” he mumbled to himself.

- - - - - - - -

After their time outside was up, Harry and his friends helped you walk kids to the restrooms to change into their dry clothes.

Putting on another movie for them to finish the day off with you even made some popcorn to pass out as a treat while they ate their lunches.

One by one the adults changed their clothes as well if needed, and you were thankful to get out of your own wet clothes and into some dry ones. When you got back to the classroom, you were pleased to see the kids and adults once again engrossed in the film you’d chosen. Who doesn’t like Finding Nemo?

As dismissal time approached, you started encouraging your kids to gather their things and clean up their desk area, that way they can leave faster when their name was called for pick up. Gemma took that as his opportunity to leave, along with Brad and Lloyd.

“Thank you for letting us help out today. It was so much fun!” Lloyd gushed, pulling you into a soft hug.

“Aww of course! You’re all welcomed to help anytime we have an event.” you encouraged, giving Brad and Gemma a farewell hug as well. “See you tomorrow Arlo!” you called as he left with his Mother. Turning back to your desk, Harry now sat behind it with a smirk on his face.

“Comfy?” you asked with an amused tone.

Nodding, he leaned back in the chair, “You should join me.” he offered with a wink.

Shaking your head with a soft laugh, you continued to dismiss the last of your kids, closing the door when the last one left so you and Harry could have some privacy.

Walking back over to your desk, Harry’s eyes were glued to you, following your every move and scanning your body up and down. While the attention flattered you, it did make you a little nervous to be under his gaze like that. A good kind of nervous though you decided.

Now that the lights were on in the classroom, you could see how red Harry’s face was. You scrunch your face sympathetically, “Did you wear any sunscreen?” you asked, giving him a weird feeling of deja vu.

Shaking his head ‘no’, you opened your desk drawer and pulled out a small tube of aloe. “How did I know I would need this today?” you teased, popping open the cap and squeezing some into the palm of your hand. Closing the bottle and setting it back down on your desk, you returned to him, meeting his eyes that were now looking up at you expectantly.

“Stand up for me.” you instructed, biting your lip to not laugh at how fast he did what you’d asked.

“This is gonna be cold.” you warned, scooping some of the aloe up with your fingers, and softly rubbed it on his cheeks. He jumped slightly at the coolness then relaxed under your touch. His skin was hot to the touch and you knew he must have been feeling some sort of relief from the cool gel. You slowly continued to spread the aloe over his face, and he admired the concentration painted across your own.

Getting flashbacks to the Zoo when you’d rubbed sunscreen on his face, he decided he could get used to you dotting over him like this.

Glancing up to meet his gaze, you smiled, looking away quickly as you continued your task, “You’re staring.” you softly commented.

“Can you blame me?” he asked, grasping you softly by the waist and pulling you closer.

You weren’t sure how it was possible for one person to leave you feeling breathless all the time but Harry was damn good at it.

Looking back up at him, you both gazed into each other’s eyes for a solid two minutes, his eyes glancing to your lips for the second time that day and back to your eyes. This time, you didn’t feel nervous, you wanted him to make the move.

Sensing your lack of hesitation, he couldn’t help but ask, “Are you going to stop me this time if I try to kiss you?”

“No.” you breathed out, shaking your head.

“Good.” he said leaning in, you met him halfway, his pillowy soft lips pressed against your own.

They always talk about sparks but you felt like a whole firework show was erupting between you two. Pressing your lips more firmly against his own, he pulled your body flush against his, as he just as enthusiastically returned the kiss. Clearly the fireworks were a mutual feeling.

As you both slowly pulled your lips apart from one another, he leaned his forehead against your own, a goofy smile plastered across his face, “I’ve wanted to do that for months now.” he admitted.

You laughed, gently brushing his hair off his face, “That was perfect. You’re perfect.”

“So are you.” he said back.

Giving him another soft peck on his lips, you bumped your nose against his own, “Walk me to my car? They’re going to be closing up the school soon.”

He accepted your offer, helping you gather your things along with his own to carry out.

Turning off the light to your classroom, you held the door open for him then closed it once more, gesturing with your head for him to follow you.

Unlocking your car, you opened the back seat and sat your bags down, taking the rest that he held and putting them in the car too before shutting the door. Turning to him, you smiled, “Thank you for helping today. You made it a lot of fun.”

“Not that hard when you’re fun to be around.” he said in return, opening your door for you to get in the driver's seat. “Let me know when you make it home safe.” he said, leaning in the door once you were settled in the seat and putting on your seat belt.

“Of course.” you said, smiling up at him.

Leaning in he couldn’t resist giving you one more kiss, and who could refuse such a gesture?

“Drive safe Honey.” he said, gently against your lips.

“You too.” you said back, pecking his lips one last time yourself.

Smiling as he pulled away, he closed your door for you and tapped the top of your car before walking to his own, going your separate ways till you meet again.

TAG LIST: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @justlemmeadoreyou @squirreljoe @end-of-the-earth @behindmygreyeyes

#ms.honey🐝#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #sunny writes #harry styles fluff

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dragonnarrative-writes · 1 month

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GhostGaz Week - over consumption // sun burn

CW: Brits trying Mexican cuisine without knowing what it is (not fraught), accidental alcohol consumption, sun burn,

@ghostgazweek

Simon had to admit, this whole private beach situation was a lot more enjoyable than he’d expected. When Alejandro and Rudy had suggested a quick flight from Monterrey to Puerto Vallarta before heading back across the pond, he’d been… skeptical. A beach is a beach, sand is sand, and the UK has both. Why fly the opposite direction of from home to sweat in the sand surrounded by civilians? He’d already spent three weeks in joint training sweating in the sand with people he generally liked, and now he just wants to rest.

Well, hell, he’s resting now. He’s reclined on some kind of couch bed on the roof of the villa, hiding from the sun under an awning and letting the heat leach every bit of tension from his body. From here, he can barely hear Soap whooping down by the water. Price is somewhere in town, chasing a Canadian skirt he met at a bar yesterday. And Kyle is… somewhere.

As though summoned, the man appears at the top of the stairs with two of the largest, most vibrantly yellow beverages Simon’s ever seen and a plastic bag hanging from his arm.

“The fuck is tha’?” Simon asks around a yawn. He only sort of sits up to squint as Kyle offers him one of the fishbowls. He sips without waiting for an answer. Citrus and something else, ice cold and refreshing.

“Mechanica something,” Kyle answers, taking a gulp of his own and placing the plastic bag on the table. “Lady at the market was selling jugs of it. Another lady was selling some fermented drink, said they’re good together. These,” he gestures to the bag, which Simon realizes is full to bursting with something fried and delicious smelling, “are molotes, and I got three of every kind they had.”

“Soap’s down at the beach,” Simon reports.

“He’ll come have some or he’ll have to find his own,” Kyle says, taking another gulp of mechanica something. He grabs a pocket of fried dough and chomps into it with a groan. “This one’s cheese. The locals recommended the... see-sos? I don’t know what that is. But there’s chicken, pork, shrimp and mushroom ones, too.”

Simon swipes one, inspects it for a moment, and takes a bite. Spice bursts across his tongue, tasty and just the littlest bit painful. It’s perfect.

Six molotes and a quarter gallon of drink later, Simon realizes that he probably should have slowed down. His belly is pleasantly overfull, but his head is swimming. Kyle, somehow still eating, is swaying in his seat, just a bit. Or maybe that’s Simon.

“’Ey,” he calls, “C’mere.”

Kyle grins, finishes the last swig of his drink, and comes over to flop next to Simon on the couch bed. He drops a kiss on the point of Simon’s shoulder. “Fuck. That was good.”

The burst of pleasure that’s always there when Kyle is casually affectionate feels especially nice this afternoon. Simon kisses his temple with a hum, then meets Kyle's lips when he turns into the contact.

Kyle's lips are warm and the slightest bit greasy from the fried dough. He tastes like citrus, mostly. He doesn't resist as Simon tows him down to the cushions, lets himself be drawn on top to settle in to make out like teenagers.

Except then Simon has to break away and turn his head for a jaw-cracking yawn. He flicks the sleeve of Kyle’s shirt at his snicker. Something about the sun keeps knocking him out, which the team finds endlessly amusing. Simon himself would find it mildly annoying, but he keeps waking up from the best nap of his life every six hours. He snuggles down into his little shaded spot and lets sleep take him again.

He’s a bit stiff, fuzzy headed, and cotton mouthed when he wakes up next. Kyle’s face down next to him, shirtless and snoring. Simon admires the slope of his back in the light of the setting sun for a moment before looking for what woke him up. Price and Soap have apparently joined them, and are pouring shots.

“G’mornin’, bella durmiente,” Soap says with a grin.

Simon grunts something and sits up. Or… he tries, but his head starts spinning so he flops back into the pillows.

“I put a bottle of water by your head,” Price says, arching a judgmental eyebrow. “Not sure what possessed you two to drink that much mezcal at once.”

“Tha’ the fermen’ed thing Kyle brough’?” Simon fishes the ice cold bottle from in the pillows and makes himself sit up to swallow half of it down.

“The pulque? That’s not what you two drank. You drank a quarter bottle of straight mezcal.”

“Wha’s tha’?”

“Tequila.”

“Oh.” That explains a lot. Simon pushes himself up to one elbow, blinks until his eyes refocus. He places a hand on Kyle’s back and has a moment to wonder at how hot his skin is before the man twitches, yelps, arches away, and yelps again.

“Fuck, ow, fuck!”

Soap snickers for the next half hour while Simon smooths frosty aloe vera over Kyle’s neck, shoulders and back. The sunburn isn’t anywhere as bad as if any of the rest of them had laid in the sun for three hours, but Kyle whines like a baby the whole time. He also shares his coconut water with Simon, though, so that’s alright.

#GhostGazWeek #dragonnarrativewrites fanfiction #gaz appreciation nation #manic pixie dream ghost #ghostgaz #all tequilas are mezcal but not al mezcal is tequila #pulque is a fermented drink made from the same cactus #kyle's spanish is not great so he didn't understand which was which #both of them assumed the sesos is some kind of calimari (it is not)#kyle usually wears sun block #he laughed at soap the last time he got a bad sunburn #oh how the turn tables #ghost was laying carefully in the shade #Kyle was in the sun

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