mostlyasidehoe
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Summary
Charles folds his arms, still looking at the screen. “What the fuck was that, Verstappen.“ He spits the name out like an insult.
So now they’re on surname basis again. Not even a 'mate' thrown in there to soften the blow.
That’s funny. Charles sure wasn’t as opposed to using first names when Max was riding the soul out of him in the backseat of his ugly Purosangue just a few days ago. But suddenly it’s Verstappen instead of Max, fuck, baby please.
OR: They almost put each other through the wall. Charles refuses to let it interfere with certain duties on principle. Like driving your exhausted boyfriend(?) home, for example.
Series
- Part 2 of baseline
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And maybe Charles is handling it normally.
But Max spent three days at his own apartment staring at the ceiling like a fucking idiot because his boyfriend kissed him goodbye too sweetly.
or
Charles kisses his boyfriend goodbye. Max tries to stay nonchalant about it.
Series
- Part 3 of baseline
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Summary
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind...
Genos fights, learns, launders, and loves.
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Genos stares. For a very long time, because he’s standing in the street with one shoe on, fighting a half-naked man who’s threatening to eat his other shoe, and now there’s an actual naked bald man with one raised eyebrow like he can’t even tell Genos is on his way to short-circuiting. “Oh.”
(Either this 'Saitama' guy has very bad luck, or he genuinely enjoys getting attacked by monsters every week.
Genos, for the life of him, can't tell which.)
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Summary
Shit.
The word buzzed around Saitama’s skull like a mosquito, one he truly had no chance of squashing between his fingers. Shit, he thought, observing his disciple/roommate/best friend as he scrubbed furiously at a spot on the floor with a rag. He was on his knees, bent forward slightly, putting all his weight into removing an ugly soy sauce stain.
The straps of the apron fell as if to purposefully frame his ass.
Fucking shit.