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weeknd-ogoc · 7 months

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PASSENGER PRINCESS ✧ ˚ · . CHARLES LECLERC

summary: in which charles tries to teach his girlfriend how to drive on her twenty second birthday. face claim: claudia tihan contains: some fluff, oral receiving (male), spoiled!reader, public and unprotected sex. authors note: i'm currently 21 and still don't have my license just because i have anxiety✨ so anyways i thought this would be fun to do & it's the king's 26th birthday today! 🎈

ⓘ this user is charles leclerc's passenger princess!

(italics are conversations in the past and the smaller words are the english translation!)

having a father, brother, and a boyfriend who were professional drivers meant you were basically driven wherever you wanted when you were with them. in the small chance you weren't with them, you had a chauffeur that was hired by your father to drive you wherever you needed to go.

"papa te va matar cuando te vea." your older brother told you as he turned to look at to see the dress you had picked out to wear for your birthday dinner. (dad's going to kill you when he sees you.)

you fixed your lipgloss through the mirror and shook your head no. "please you know he won't and you want to know why..."

he began parking the car and shook his head since he already knew what you were about to say, the same thing you've been saying since you were a little girl.

"porque yo soy su hija favorita." (because i'm his favorite daughter)

carlos knew you were right since you were basically the baby of the family so he just smiled. "well i think you look hermosa as always." (beautiful)

the both of you looked outside the car and saw there was paparazzi already waiting outside the restaurant. your father and brother's career truly opened up a whole bunch of opportunities for you.

"a model?" your father asked as he looked over the photos you had taken for a brand a week before. "why not just continue your studies mija?"

after a bit convincing your father gave you permission to pursue a modeling career so at the age of eighteen your face was on multiple magazines, you did your best to make a name for yourself instead of being known as carlos sainz's daughter or carlos sainz jr's younger sister.

a knock on the window pulled the both of you out of thought, it had been your boyfriend of a year.

he opened the door for you and instantly hugged you once you got out of the car. "happy birthday my love..." he said as he gave you a squeeze. "you look beautiful!"

your brother had formally introduced you to charles when he had joined ferrari, of coarse you had already knew him since he was your brothers competition and he had also seen you around but never introduced himself to you.

before you could let out a thank you, your brother looked down to his outfit. "why thank you, i really tried dressing up my best just for you." he joked which earned a laugh from the both of you.

before asking you out almost two years ago — the two of you were fuck buddies for a few months. let's just say charles had fell hard for you within three months of seeing you, he was certain there was just a little more to your relationship on his side when he had overhead lance tell your brother he wanted to ask you out during a party after a race in italy.

"i can't answer for her but i mean go for it." he heard your brother tell lance. "i know you're a good gu-"

so after hearing part of that conversation he quickly looked for you and when he finally did he saw lando offering you a drink with his charming smile.

“we can rain check that date.” he heard you tell him.

"really..." he mumbled out before walking over and excusing the both of you. "yeah i'm going to borrow her for a bit."

charles knew that lando and you had been super close since you guys were almost close in age. he also knew that before him, you and lando had a little fling going on.

he took you to a restroom close by, where he roughly pressed his lips onto yours and pulled up your dress from the bottom. "of course you don't have any panties on."

"quick access for you." you had told him as you undid his belt and pulled down his pants.

“for me or for lando?”

he saw as you smirked “oh don’t tell me you’re jealous…” you slowly licked the pre-cum coming out of his tip. “big boy.”

he groaned as he lifted you up. "nope, just wanted to remind you who you really belong to belle." (beautiful)

you had helped him slip it in and he began fucking you up against the wall — this wasn't the first time you guys hadn't used protection but he always managed to pull out on time since you weren't on any birth control.

"c'mon my love, make a mess on my cock..." he mumbled out as he fastened his pace, cock still hitting your g-spot. "you're so fucking wet.”

"ch- charles..." he hears you moan as you began digging your nails into his shoulders. “i’m so close.”

if the music outside wasn’t so loud everyone in the club would be able to hear your moans.

“that’s not even a dress…” your mother argued with you “carlo-“

your father quickly hugged you and handed you a gift bag. “mi niña bonita, feliz cumpleaños!” (my pretty girl, happy birthday.)

your mother let out a sigh since your father had yet to see the outfit you had on. growing up, your parents made it their mission to make sure your siblings and you dressed appropriately at all times. so once you moved out a few months after you turned eighteen, you decided to dress the way you wanted to.

charles loved that your family was so supportive of you and he really loved it when they welcomed him with open arms. before they had welcomed him into the family, he had made sure it was okay with your brother to be with you and when he had his permission he made sure to go all out on this.

"flowers?" you asked him confused since he had never bought you any.

"these past few months with you, have been the greatest an-"

anyways after that your dad took a bit convincing since you were his baby but it all worked in the end.

"i'm telling you i've tried!" your brother carlos told your boyfriend. "she stayed in parking the entire time."

you rolled your eyes as they both laughed you. "carlos let it go, it was seven years ago! plus you were yelling at me..."

you brother rolled his eyes and mumbled out an "no i was not, dramática." (dramatic)

"it was making me nervous!"

you remembered a few years back when your father had sent your brother to teach you how to drive since he couldn't do it himself. at first carlos really didn't want to but everyone knew your brother had a huge soft spot for you.

"dad was yelling at me!" you complained to your brother. "i can't work under pressure, if i'm truly your favorite sister you will help me."

he groaned and finally nodded. "ay pues te ayudaré, pero no tengo ningún favorito así que cierra el pico." (i'll help you but i don't have any favorites so shut your beak.)

the pair continued making fun of you and you huffed at them but before you could shoot back an embarrassing story of them your cake had arrived and everyone began singing to you.

twenty two!

♡

after the dinner charles had driven you to an empty parking lot. you squinted your eyes at him and gave him a smile as your hand started sliding down towards his pants. "are we doing it?"

"tempting but no i'm teaching you how to drive, now switch seats."

you tensed up as he got out the car and walked around to your side. he helped you out of the car and walked you to the other side.

"babe i don’t want to do this!" you nervously told him as you got in the drivers seat. “are you really trusting me with your ferrari?”

he didn't respond and closed the door, walking over to passenger side.

“i’m telling you the only driving i should be doing is driving you crazy.”

he chuckled at your nervousness. “i’m telling you it’s easy.”

you began to remember the time your father was trying to teach you and you reversed into a tree — this little memory caused your palms to begin sweating.

he sat back in the passenger seat and clapped his hands. "alright what do you do first?"

you groaned as you put your seatbelt on. "have my lovely boyfriend drive us back home so we can go have sex."

he gave you a little look and you groaned again. "alright fine, you check the mirror." you pulled down the sun visor and did a little smile. "and boom you see i still look beautiful."

he let out a chuckle and helped you close the sun visor. "you always look beautiful..." he began leaning in and you smashed your lips onto his but before you could undo your seatbelt he backed away. "c'mon the faster we finish, the faster you can drive us home and have really good sex."

you let out a little whine and put your hands on the wheel. "how the hell do you even start this? shouldn't we have started with a normal car?"

"i'm helping you, don't worry."

charles was a bit excited for this moment and had high hopes he was definitely getting his fifty dollars from carlos.

"im telling you, she won't get out of parking and you'll just be driving her back to your house..."

after two minutes of watching you with your hands on the wheel, he sighed. "if you want i can help you t-"

you swatted his hand before he could reach for anything. "no! i can do it, stop pressuring me."

he sat back down and waited a bit longer.

finally you had the car moving super slow, and you squealed. "thats it, i'm going to get my license and start driving us everywhere from now on."

which earned you a "huh?" from charles, he didn't expect you saying that since he loved driving you wherever but overall he was happy to see you this excited, you conitunued driving at a slow pace and finally decided it was time to speed it up just a little more.

"watch the bu-" before he could finish his sentence you had already hit the parking bumper.

"oops." you quietly let out. "sorry..."

for a second charles panicked and looked at you as he grabbed your hand to scan you. "are you alright?"

if anything were to happen to you while being with him, he knew your brother and father would most definitely murder him — not only that but he would never be able to forgive himself for letting you get hurt.

"i'm fine, are you?" you asked and he nodded before going outside to check the damage.

after a few minutes he sighed and opened your side of the door. "just a scratch, i can have it fixed tomorrow."

"did you like it? was that fun?" you lightly joked.

"umm yes..." he helped you out the car and wrapped an arm around your waist. "as much as i enjoyed being your passenger princess this time..." he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. "you failed this test my love."

you sighed before kissing him. "i guess you're stuck driving me wherever we need to go."

he kissed you once more before deepening the kiss and you placed your hand onto his growing bulge. "and i guess the only driving you should continue doing is driving me crazy."

before you could lead him to the backseat he shook his head and carried you up onto the hood of his car. "here?"

he nodded before kissing you again and lifted up your dress from the bottom just a bit. "here."

thank you guys for reading, my requests are open!

last imagine: luna, sol y mar | cs55

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pucksandpower · 9 months

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okeyyyy!

but we need a Grid Kids that maybe y/n and seb were in an car accidente (and y/n took the worst of it) and now the roles are reversed, now they are gonna take care of them

Loving this series so much

Grid Kids: UNO Reverse Card

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: the roles are reversed when disaster strikes and your grid kids make it their duty to take care of you

Series Masterlist

The rain is pouring down and the paddock is filled with the usual organized chaos accompanying a wet race. The garages are lively with the sounds of mechanics tuning engines, engineers going over data, and drivers preparing for the race.

Suddenly, a deafening silence descends as a member of the Aston Martin team rushes in, face pale and voice shaking, “There’s been an accident. It’s Sebastian and Y/N.”

The news spreads like wildfire. The paddock, usually filled with the roars of engines and excited chatter, is now eerily quiet. Your grid kids, upon hearing the news, rush to find out more details, their faces masks of concern.

A shaky video from a fan’s phone plays on loop on their screens, showing the aftermath of a devastating collision. Your car is almost unrecognizable, crushed, with the driver’s side visibly less damaged.

George, having seen the video, collapses onto a nearby chair, tears streaming down his face. “This can’t be happening,” he whispers.

Lando, usually the life of the party, stands frozen, disbelief evident in his eyes. Mick, face ashen, tries to make calls to get more information while Lance rushes to find his father to find out if the team has heard anything more.

***

Soon, details emerge that you bore the brunt of the impact and your condition is critical while Sebastian, though injured, is stable. The helicopter is already airlifting you to the nearest hospital.

As the severity of the situation sinks in, your grid kids, in an unprecedented move, gather together for an emergency meeting. The weight of the decision is clear in their eyes.

After what feels like an eternity, Charles stands up, his voice firm yet choked with emotion, “We’re pulling out. We can’t race knowing Y/N is fighting for her life. We need to be there for her, just like she’s always been there for us.”

The decision is unanimous. One by one, they all agree. Telling their teams and the FIA descends the paddock into even more chaos.

***

The hospital waiting room is filled with a mix of team colors. Red from Ferrari, orange from McLaren, deep blue from Red Bull, green from Aston Martin, white from Haas, and black from Mercedes. The fierce rivalry that usually defines race weekends is nowhere to be seen. Instead, they’re united in their concern for you.

Sebastian, despite his injuries, is by your bedside, holding your hand, praying silently for a miracle.

As the hours drag on, the grid kids take turns sitting by your side, sharing stories, hoping their voices provide some comfort, even in your unconscious state.

Mick, teary-eyed, recalls, “Remember when I missed my dad? You were there for me.”

Lando adds, “And when I just wanted milk? You welcomed me like family.”

Charles, voice filled with emotion, says, “We’re here now, for you, just like you’ve always been for us.”

***

As night turns into dawn, there’s a shift. Your vitals start stabilizing and the worst seems to be over. The relief is palpable as the somber mood hanging over your family fades away.

Sebastian, tears of gratitude in his eyes, thanks each one of them. “She’s strong, and with all of you here, I knew she’d find a way to fight through.”

***

A week has passed since the accident and you’re now firmly in the recovery phase. The room is overflowing with flowers, cards, and quirky gifts — each one a symbol of just how much you mean to the racing community.

As you slowly regain consciousness, groggy from the medication, the first thing you spot is a balloon, bobbing near the ceiling, with the words “Speedy Recovery!” It has a little caricature of you in a race car with your cat (in a tiny sweater) on your shoulder. Another one reads, “Get back on track soon!”

Mick enters the room with a tray, “Look who’s awake! I made you my special recovery smoothie. Okay, it’s mostly chocolate ... but it’s the thought that counts.”

Charles follows, holding a peculiar-looking teddy bear dressed in a racing suit. “Meet Racy. He’s going to keep you company. We tried to smuggle Speedy in under our hoodies but got caught so this is the next best thing.”

Lando waltzes in, proudly holding up a t-shirt with “I survived a car crash and all I got was this lousy t-shirt” printed on it.

Max pops his head around the door, holding a full-sized F1 helmet, “You better wear this the next time you get in a car.”

George, with his trademark smile, presents a plush safety car. “To keep you safe and sound, always.”

Lance, trying to contain his grin, brings in a steering wheel cushion. “For those moments when you feel the need to take control of your recovery.”

You can’t help but chuckle at their antics. “You guys ... always know how to lighten the mood.”

Sebastian, holding your hand, grins, “They’ve been brainstorming ways to cheer you up nonstop for days now.”

***

Determined to keep things positive, your grid kids rally together for a surprise. As the evening descends, they transform your room into a mini-movie theater. They even managed to sneak in a projector.

The movie choice? “Cars” of course.

Lance, armed with a bucket of popcorn, declares, “I mean, if we can’t race real cars today, might as well watch animated ones!”

Mick dims the lights and George hits play. As the familiar sounds of the movie fill the room, everyone settles in ready for a night of laughter.

***

It doesn’t take long for the grid kids to turn the movie night into their own commentary session.

As Lightning McQueen races across the screen, Max quips, “I think I could’ve taken that turn better.”

Lando, laughing, chimes in, “And Mater reminds me of Charles after a few too many energy drinks.”

Charles feigns outrage, “That’s unfair! I’m at least 10 percent more sophisticated than Mater.”

You, through bouts of laughter, shake your head, “Honestly, I can’t decide what's better, the movie or your commentary? You guys might have a future on a broadcast somewhere if this whole racing thing doesn’t work out.”

As the credits roll, Sebastian whispers, “This is exactly the medicine you needed.”

Your grid kids truly make the day memorable, proving that through thick and thin, family — in whatever form it may take — is everything.

***

The sun is high and the paddock is buzzing with energy as preparations for the upcoming race are in full swing. As you and Sebastian approach, there’s a sudden almost comedic halt in activity. It’s as if someone hit the pause button on a remote. Everyone turns to face you, jaws dropped.

Lance feigns fainting, “Is it a mirage? Or has our beloved Y/N truly graced us with her presence?”

Max approaches with an exaggerated limp, mimicking you, “Thought I’d get into the spirit of things,” he says with a smirk.

George emerges from the crowd holding a makeshift red carpet (it’s just a red towel he stole from Ferrari), rolling it out in front of you. “For our returning queen,” he declares with a bow.

Charles and Lando appear, each holding one end of a “Welcome Back” banner. You try to turn your head to read it … they accidentally held it upside down.

You’re trying hard to hold back tears of laughter. “You guys are impossible,” you manage to say between your chuckles.

Mick, with a gentle smile, approaches holding a small framed photo. It’s of you surrounded by all your grid kids, taken during a race earlier in the season, with the inscription “Family, Always.”

Touched by the gesture, you softly say, “Thank you so much, Mick. This means a lot.”

“You’ve always been there for us,” he replies. “It’s only right that we’re here for you.”

Sebastian, wrapping an arm around you, adds with a grin, “I think they missed you.”

You really loved your grid kids.

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fxrmuladaydreams · 5 months

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drunken bets (cs55)

carlos x mclaren social media!reader

summary: carlos makes a bet with a few other drivers, claiming that he can get you, a new (introverted) mclaren employee, to fall for him

notes: what can i say? i love writing driver x mclaren worker apparently 😂 i think it’s because she can be bffs with lando and oscar and that makes me soft. someone had to be the villian/bad influence so i’m sorry drunk pierre/lance. i hope you guys like the “she fell first, he fell harder” trope

next part

The music in the club blasts through the speakers. Drinks are thrown back as warm bodies dance, or more so grind, against each other to the beat.

Carlos feels the buzz from the alcohol coursing through him. He takes drink after drink. He deserves to relax after this race weekend, hangover be damned. He’s approached countless times by girls looking to spend some time with him, all to which he brushes off, choosing to go home alone at the end of the night.

“C’mon man, what’s up?” Lance asks as Carlos sends another breathtaking girl away. “You’re just not in the mood?”

“I don’t think he can do it. I think he needs his “smooth operator” title revoked.” Pierre drunkenly laughs.

Carlos scoffs, pushing Pierre away by his shoulder. “I could get any girl I wanted. Try me.”

Pierre grins and nods. “Alright,” he looks around the club and nods to a blonde at the bar. “How about her?”

Lance shakes his head. “No, that’s too easy. She’s been staring at him all night.”

Pierre points out a few more girls, all of whom have already expressed some kind of interest in the Spanish driver, until an idea pops into his head.

“What about that new McLaren girl?”

Carlos knew who he was talking about almost instantly. You were a newer part of McLaren’s marketing team. While most others from the team could be found creating content with the boys, you tended to keep yourself behind a computer. Lando said you were hired to do things like edit videos or photos, more behind the scenes stuff.

Others had taken an interest in you when you had shown up. A few engineers or pit crew from other teams attempted to get closer with you, all while you turned them down with a quick no. Hell, even Pierre tried to shoot his shot, but you very quickly shut him down.

You tended to stick closer to Lando and Oscar, both boys somehow able to get you to open up to them.

“You mean Y/n? She won’t date anyone.” Lance shrugs.

“Yeah, so I don’t think Mr. Smooth Operator could get her to date him.” Pierre smirks.

“I could.” Carlos is quick to defend. “Easy.”

“Alright then, let’s make this interesting. You get Y/n to have actual romantic feelings for you, and I’ll give you one hundred euros.”

Carlos reaches his hand out for Pierre to shake. “Deal.”

Carlos wakes up with a pounding headache the next morning, the sun streaming in way too bright through his hotel window. He drags himself out of bed and into the shower, attempting to feel a little more like a human before he actually has to go outside and face the world.

He eats a simple breakfast, something that doesn’t make him feel like he’s about to puke his guts all over his plate. Then he finally starts to pack his suitcase for his trip back home.

He checks his phone before pushing it into his pocket. He sees a few message notifications from Pierre and Lance.

From Lance

Insane night last night. I never want to drink again.

From Pierre

I honestly don’t remember much from last night, but I do remember a bet, and I can’t wait to be 100 euros richer

Carlos groans as he remembers the bet he made the previous night. There’s no way they’re going to let this go, they’ll make sure it hangs over his head until the end of time.

A selfish part of him wants to go on with the bet, to prove that even though he’s had some time being single for a while, he’s still a hot ticket item in the dating world. It wouldn’t hurt his image either, he thinks. If he’s seen pursuing and dating someone who isn’t a model it could make him look like he’s matured, like he’s ready to settle down instead of spending his nights in different beds wherever they travel.

From Carlos

I think you mean 100 euros poorer

The next race weekend he makes it a point to hang around the McLaren garage. No one’s surprised to see him there, given his close friendship with Lando, so the striking Ferrari red practically goes unnoticed in the sea of papaya.

He keeps an eye out for you as he sits with Lando, excusing himself when he spots you making your way towards them. You’ve got a set of headphones on over your ears, clearly enthralled by whatever you’ve got playing on the tablet you’re holding.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts walking in your direction, scrolling through whatever social media app he happened to quickly open. He walks until his shoulder bumps into yours, a little too rough, nearly knocking the tablet out of your hands.

Carlos wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you upright, and manages to catch the tablet with his other hand.

“Are you alright?” He asks, flashing you a smile.

You nod and take a step back from him. “I’m okay, are you?”

He swipes a hand through his hair, then holds your tablet out for you to take. “I’m good. It’s Y/n, right?”

“Yeah, I’m at McLaren.” You tilt your head towards the McLaren garage.

“Yeah, I can see that.” He laughs, glancing down at your papaya team kit.

“Right, sorry.” You laugh. “I should probably go, filming and editing to do and what not.”

Carlos gives you a smile and a nod followed by a quick goodbye. He brushes his arm against yours as he walks away. He has to keep himself from looking back at you to see your reaction, but gets a text from Lando later in the day that gives him the satisfaction he was looking for.

From Lando

What did you do to my editor?

The next time Carlos sees you, he recreates your first meeting, bumping into you just so he can wrap his arms around you again.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” He laughs, holding you.

You laugh with him and shake your head. Your hands rest against his chest from attempting to catch yourself. “We really do.”

He smiles as he lets go of you, but keeps himself planted where he’s standing, giving you his undivided attention.

“I saw the recent McLaren video, it was really good. It kind of makes me wish you worked here when I was with McLaren.” He says tilting his head up teasingly.

“It’s mostly my coworkers, I pretty much just make it look good after it’s filmed.” You tell him, you duck your head down to avoid his gaze.

“Still.” He shrugs.

He’s pulled away by Charles after that, who gives you a quick hello before dragging Carlos back to Ferrari’s garage.

You see Carlos a lot more now around McLaren. You chalk it up to his friendship with Lando, but you begin to notice his seeking you out. He shares meals with you now, even if he ends up sitting with you while you’re focus is locked on your laptop.

Carlos is surprised to find that he’s started to genuinely enjoy your company, that he actually looks forward to seeing you every race weekend. He shakes away the feeling that blossoms in his chest whenever he sees you, afraid of becoming too attached.

That all flies out the window when he’s headed back to his hotel one day though. Dark clouds covered the sky, turning it almost black as rain poured down. You could hear thunder rumbling in the distance, likely headed towards the track.

Carlos sees you standing under the awning of McLaren hospitality, looking up at the sky. You’ve got your phone in your hand and a disgruntled look on your face.

He lifts his bright red umbrella up over his head and dashes over to the McLaren building. He puts his umbrella back down once he’s standing next to you, shaking the drops of water off.

“Did you forget an umbrella?” He asks.

You turn away from your phone to look up at him. He’s got a teasing smile on his face. The humidity in the air has made his hair impossibly fluffier, but somehow still picture perfect. He’s bundled up in a Ferrari windbreaker, his backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Yeah. And I walked here from the hotel today, so I can either try to get a taxi or I can wait until the weather clears up.” Just as you finish explaining your problem thunder booms above you.

Carlos shakes his head. “Yeah, no. I’m not letting you walk out in this.” He gestures to the sky.

“Well the other option is find a taxi.”

“I’ll drive you.” He says it as if it’s an obvious solution. Before you can respond he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him so that you’re both under his umbrella, then starts walking towards the parking lot.

You try to keep up with his pace, occasionally bumping into him, but he makes sure to hold the umbrella over the both of you. He leads you to his car, and holds the umbrella over you as you climb into the passenger side.

You notice how water clings to his hair, drops falling down his coat on his right side, evidence of him prioritizing keeping you dry over himself.

“Carlos, you could get sick, and it’d be my fault.” You scold him.

He shrugs and gives you a smile. “Then you’ll just have to nurse me back to health.”

He parks at the entrance to the hotel McLaren had booked, and walks you into the building. When you expect him to leave, he places a hand on your lower back guiding you to the elevator. He walks you all the way to your door, and leaves you with a “goodnight” and a soft squeeze of your hand.

You get a text from him later that night.

From Carlos

Lando gave me your number. What time should I pick you up tomorrow?

From Y/n

You don’t have to, that’s okay

From Carlos

That’s not an answer cariño

You feel yourself start to smile at the message on your screen and text him what time you usually leave.

He picks you up the next morning, driving you to the track with him. You make conversation about little things like how you slept and what you had for breakfast. He’s quick to run over to your side of the car to open the door for you, and keeps himself close to you as you enter the paddock.

He meets you at the end of the day as well to drive you back to the hotel. He keeps up this new routine each race weekend following. He enjoys your company, and you seem to enjoy his. After a few weekends you could say you have a new chauffeur in the form of a Ferrari driver.

With this new closeness to Carlos comes a wave of media attention you should have expected. Photos are posted over social media of the two of you walking together, you looking up at Carlos with bright eyes, or him looking down at you with his doe eyes.

It’s easy to tell that all of the new attention makes you uncomfortable, but you don’t want to lose your friendship with Carlos so you stick it out. You’re grateful when you see a clip of an interview with Carlos where he’s asked about you, and he sets the record straight.

“There’s nothing going on, we just like to hang out together. We’re just friends.” He smiles.

Although you’re glad he’s put an end to the speculation, you can’t help but feel like your recent hangouts have been only barely platonic. After the nights you’ve claimed are “movie nights” that have turned into falling asleep in each other’s arms, it’s hard to put a platonic label on your relationship.

The first time it happens, it’s you who wakes up first. His chest is warm beneath your head, and his arms lock you against his body. You tilt your head up to look at him. His hair is unkempt, yet still looks effortlessly good. You reach up and brush a few strands away from his face. You watch him for a few minutes, wondering how you were so lucky to be spending your time with someone so beautiful. You rest your head back on his chest and let sleep wash over you again, listening to the soft beats of his heart.

Carlos wakes up not long after you’ve gone back to sleep, lifting an arm to run a hand through his hair. He can feel the little puffs of air from your breathing against his chest, his heart melts when you subconsciously nuzzle your face deeper into him to get more comfortable. You look so sweet, so soft, and a part of him hates himself for it. He let himself accept that stupid bet, and he let himself fall for you. He wishes he’d never let his friends talk him into making that bet, but he also decides he’d never trade the time he’s spent with you for anything.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when you slowly lift yourself up off of him. He misses your warmth as soon as he can’t feel it anymore.

The two of you continue spending your evenings together, wanting nothing more than to keep falling asleep wrapped up in one another.

He finds himself searching for you in the crowd at parties and events, even those he knows you won’t be at, just so he can spend more time with you. He texts you everyday you’re apart to make sure that you’ve eaten and gotten enough sleep.

Carlos can’t bear the thought of being away from you for more than a week between races. He casually mentions that he’s going back to Spain for the small break, and asks if you want to join him.

You laugh and scoff shaking your head. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious, it could be fun. You could relax a little bit. I could take you on my boat. C’mon.” He persuades you.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude on your time off.”

“You’re not. I want you there, I promise. Please?” He takes your hands in his, swinging them back and forth. He gives you his best puppy dog eyes and bats his eyelashes at you.

“Alright, I’ll go with you.” You sigh, but can’t stop the smile from spreading over your face.

It’s different, sharing a space with Carlos outside of the four-walled hotel rooms you’ve stayed in for work. It feels intimate being with him in his home country. He books a private villa to stay in on the beach.

The trip quickly feels more romantic than friendly, what with him cooking your dinner for you, and your evenings in either the hot tub or curled up together on the couch.

You spend your days with Carlos on his boat. You reading a book you brought with you, and Carlos laying out in the sun to tan.

It’s hard not to stare at him, his tanned toned chest on display, while his swim trunks hang low on his hips. He has just as much trouble keeping his eyes away from you as well, he can’t help but watch you as you scamper around the boat in a different little bikini everyday.

Occasionally he convinces you to hop in the water with him, to which you reluctantly agree. You keep your arms locked around him when you feel something brush against your leg in the water. Carlos keeps a firm hold on your waist as he can’t stop laughing at your distress.

Eventually you get back on his boat and sit side by side on the edge, with your feet dangling in the water. You stare down at the crystal blue sea, looking for any creatures swimming around.

Carlos looks back out to the shore. The smile that’s been plastered on his face for the last few days falls when he sees a figure on the beach. They’re far enough away that he can’t really tell who it is, but close enough that he can see the camera in their hands.

He leans back and grabs a towel, laying it over your shoulders, covering up the skin you had on display. He wraps a protective arm around you and pulls you closer to his chest, in hopes that the photos he knows will be everywhere in a few days won’t be clear enough to reveal you in them.

That night he decides to cook on the boat, which turns out to be a little more chaotic than he’d originally planned. He struggles to keep everything straight, but finds it all worth it in the end when he gets to see you surrounded by the sunset. You look breathtaking, looking out into the sea. The soft breezes wisps your hair away from your face. The sinking sun casts a gold light to wash over you.

He wants to tell you how he feels, but he knows he needs to come clean. Maybe you’ll forgive him, he hopes you will. He needs to put this in the past so that he can love you publicly and wholeheartedly.

You quietly share your meal, then break the silence simultaneously.

“I have something I need to tell you.”

“Carlos-”

“You first.” He nods.

You take a deep breath. “Carlos, I want to thank you for bringing me here, and really for spending all this time with me. I’m glad you bumped into me at the paddock because I’ve gained a new friend from it. You’re one of the best men I know, and I really appreciate you taking care of me.”

“Thank you.” He feels his chest tighten at your words.

“The truth is, I’ve come to care about you a lot more than I thought I would. A few of the other drivers tried to ask me out when I was first hired, but I told them no. I was happy when you didn’t try to make a move on me, and instead wanted to pursue a friendship with me.” You look down at your hands, and fiddle with your fingers. “But if you did try to make a move on me now… I don’t think I’d mind it…” Your last sentence comes out quieter than the others.

“Really?” Carlos asks, a soft smile growing on his face.

You clear your throat. “What were you going to say?”

He can’t tell you now. He can’t poison this perfect moment, after you’ve confessed your feelings to him.

“I was going to say that I feel the same way.”

#carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz #formula one x reader #cs55 x reader

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norrisleclercf1 · 1 year

Text

Secret, Secret

Pairing: Lance Stroll x Riccardio!Reader

Rating: PG

Warnings: Pregnancy talks, breastfeeding talks, nothing to bad honest;y, fluff, uncle Daniel, dad Lance, etc.

Words: 2.1K

Requested: Yes/No

Request: Hello. I’m not sure if you take requests for Lance Stroll if you don’t please pick another driver of your choice but please could I request Lance Stroll x Wife fem reader where they were the paddock ‘it’ couple but after the summer break Lance started going to races on his own and everyone thinks they have split up, when the Canada gp arrives they appear in the paddock together married and with twins and everyone finds out ect and the drives meet their baby’s (uncle Danny🥹) 🫶🏻🫶🏻 thank you so much I hope that all makes sense😅

"Where's Y/n?" Fernando asks, noticing your absence the moment Lance steps into the paddock.

Lance looks over and smiles, wanting to explain why but keeping it to himself.

"Didn't feel like coming." Lance shrugs, but Fernando doesn't buy it yet and chooses not to say anything else.

The media went crazy that weekend. The rumors circled; vultures were trying to pick at the leftovers of what couldn've gone wrong. Lance ignored them, but when asked why you weren't at the races anymore, he couldn't say. People started to say you got a divorce, but Lance's fans refused to accept it. The two of you, together, became the paddocks "it" couple very quickly.

"Did you two get a divorce and not tell me? Because that's just mean." Daniel whines one day, making Lance laugh at Daniel's whine.

"Daniel, Y/n needed a break, and I agreed with her. So, stop thinking we divorced." Lance snaps slightly, annoyed with the constant questions about it.

"Hey, I'm sorry, she just hasn't been answering my texts, and I'm worried," Daniel admits making Lance sigh and pat his shoulder. "She'll be back for the Canadian GP." Lance walks off, leaving Daniel smiling, missing his sister.

Daniel pulls out his phone and texts you, asking if you've been okay. He hasn't seen you in almost a year, dealing with everything that has happened at Mclaren and you moving to a new house. You both have been so busy, and he wished he knew more about his sister than the media.

Daniel: Please tell me you and Lance are still together? If he did something, I'd ask Max to crash him!

Y/N: Daniel!! DO not HURT my husband!!! I'm fine. We're doing great. Please wait until the Canadian GP. I promise you'll be thrilled with why I've been gone!"

Daniel: Hurry up, Canadian GP. I love you. Text me if you need me.

Y/N: I will. I love you too, Danny!

You sigh, hating that you were lying to your brother. The both of you are so close, and the fact that you haven't seen him in a year has been brutal. When you found out you were pregnant was the most incredible day of your life. Telling Lance was the second best. He had cried while he hugged you and promised to always protect you and your baby. The 3rd best day was finding out you were having twins. Finding that out, you and Lance had a serious conversation that night. Tell the world you were pregnant, or hide it from everyone.

It was the second choice. After research, you found that twin pregnancies were at risk, and you wanted to be safe and keep it quiet to have an easy and relaxed pregnancy. It wasn't, but it was a relatively healthy pregnancy, and 3 months ago, you gave birth to a boy and a girl. It was the 2nd time Lance had cried, and it was holding his babies.

Phone beeping, you pick it up and see it's Lance wanting to video chat with you.

"Hello, my gorgeous wife. Are you okay?" He asks the moment you hit accept.

"Daniel keeps asking me if we're divorced. But I've told him to hold off until the Canadian GP. Hopefully, he doesn't show up to the house." You joke, but you seriously considered that your brother could visit your home.

"Nah, he won't show up unless he really thinks something is wrong." Lance looks around before his end shakes as he moves somewhere else.

"Hey? How are our babies?" He asks, being careful to not say it too loud.

"Perfect. They're napping right now. Want to see?" You ask even though you know what his answer would be.

Moving across the house, you head up to the twins' nursey, slowly open the door, and show them to Lance.

"My sweet babies. Are they doing okay? You know you could always call Mom or Chole, hell, even Scotty, to come and help you." Lance spouts off, making you giggle at his worry.

"Lance, honey. I'm okay, really. We're doing fine. Besides, you'll be home soon." You try to squash his worry, but he just groans, rubbing his head.

"I hate being away from you 3 so soon after. Let me know if you need help. I'm serious." Lance urges as you just smile and nod, walking out of the nursery and letting the twins get some more sleep.

"Lance, I love you. I'll see you soon." You whisper, watching his dazzling smile as he repeats the words and hangs up.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I'm so glad it's the Canadian GP already." Lance cheers, making your little girl Eleanor gurgle as her father kisses her cheeks.

"Lance, be careful. You're going to scare Casper." Sighing, you pick up your boy.

Casper was a sweet boy who was shy and kept to himself. Eleanor was your outgoing and curious daughter who loved anything and everyone. It always made you laugh watching how they interacted with one another.

"Sorry." Lance laughs, watching as Casper cuddles into you.

"You ready?" You ask Lance as he bounces slightly to keep Eleanor calm for as long as possible.

"Of course, and we're going to be protected, and everyone is going to respect your wishes when you give them out. But Danny can finally give me peace." You laugh, packing up the car with your stroller and diaper bag.

Lance helps put the babies in the car seats and watches you double-check everything.

"Hey, we've got everything." Grabbing your hand, you sigh as you nod in agreement.

"I know." Lance smiles and pulls you over, kissing you gently. "Let's go." You smile before kissing him again as you climb into the passenger side.

Pulling up to the paddock parking, you take a deep breath calming yourself. Grabbing your hand, Lance pulls it up and kisses your wedding ring in a way that comforts you. To always remind you that both of you are in this together.

You don't get the chance to get out before Fernando pops up next to your window, a little scream at him suddenly popping up.

"Damn, Fernando, give her a chance to get out of the car." Lance groans, but the Spaniard laughs as you open the car door.

"Oh, I have missed you!" Fernando laughs, hugging you tightly, hugging him back just as tight.

"Why haven't you been around for almost a year. It hurt us." The man whines as Lance opens the side door, and the Aston Martin driver sees the reason.

"Twins?" He asks in awe, then looks back at you. "Does Daniel know?" You shake your head, giving him your answer.

"Hermana. Why didn't you tell us? You could've supported you." Fernando sighs and hugs you again as you try not to cry already.

"We thought it'd be best, Fernando. The press, fans, everything. We decided not to tell anyone when we found out she was pregnant with twins. Her parents and mine know, but Scotty and Chole found out 2 weeks ago. And today, we tell everyone and you guys." Lance explains, pulling out Casper, who whines and buries himself into his fathers' hold.

"Want to hold Eleanor? She is more welcoming to strangers than Casper." Fernando smiles and holds his arms out as Eleanor is placed gently.

"She's gorgeous." He whispers and automatically starts swaying side to side as she wakes from her little sleep.

Opening her eyes, she stares at Fernando, who smiles, pulling her closer.

"I'll destroy anyone who thinks they can hurt you." He says sweetly, making you laugh and grab Eleanor, who gurgles and shakes her hands before settling down in your hold.

"I'll see you inside, yes? If anyone gives you trouble, let me know." Fernando kisses your temple before patting Lance on the back, whispering something in his ear that has Lance laugh and turn red.

"What did he say?" You ask, grabbing the stroller and placing the diaper bag in the bottom.

"Don't worry about it." Lance shakes his head, but you don't.

"Lance." Your husband sighs and moves closer to you so no one else hears.

"He said I must have magic balls to get you knocked up with twins the first time." You laugh, making Casper jump and whine, having Lance comfort him immediately.

"Shhh, Mommy, that was mean." Lance teases, but you roll your eyes, heading to the entrance.

Scanning in, people notice you two and start taking pictures. Thankfully no one comes up close and in your space. They keep their distance as they take picture after picture.

"Shut the fuck up!" Lance laughs as he gets stopped by Mick and Esteban, who stand there shocked, seeing their best friend and his wife holding two babies.

"Hey, language." You tease, but Esteban waves you off as he approaches Lance.

"Who is this little guy?" Esteban asks, being very careful to not startle the baby.

"This is Casper." Lance turns Casper slightly, who just sleeps peacefully in his father's arms.

"God, Lance, he looks just like you." Esteban laughs as Mick watches Eleanor look around.

"Twins, each just like you." Mick smiles, sticking a finger out. Eleanor grabs it and puts it in he mouth.

"Eleanor, no." Mick laughs as he watches you pull his finger out of her daughter's mouth, telling you his hands are clean.

"I know, but still, she's young." Mick nods in understanding the 4 of you talking as they coo over the babies.

"Lance, we should get going. I'm going to have to feed them soon." Lance nods as Mick and Esteban say bye but tell you they're coming to spend time with the babies after the race.

Getting to the Hospitality suite Lance, gets you settled, everyone being respectful, waving, and not bothering you too much.

"See, we're okay." Lance kisses the side of your head as you bottle-feed the babies.

Breastfeeding was rough initially, and you decided to bottle feed as it would give each twin the nutrients they need rather than running low and worrying about it.

"I know-" You get cut off when Lance's media manager pops up.

"I tried to stop him, but, yeah, sorry." They disappear and are soon replaced with your brother, who stops seeing the four of you.

"Danny." You sigh, but he just holds his hand up and walks closer, taking in the sight of the twins.

"You were pregnant with twins, gave birth, and you didn't tell me?" He asks, sitting down next to you and touching Eleanor's cheek.

"Danny, we wanted the pregnancy to be as easy as possible, I wanted to tell you, but we thought this way was best." You explain, but Daniel laughs, tears in his eyes as he hugs you.

"Oh god, they're gorgeous." He cries as you lean into his hug, crying with him.

"Can I hold them?" He asks Lance smiling as he slowly puts Casper in his Uncle's arms. With breaths held, you waited for Casper to start crying. Instead, he snuggles into Daniel's chest.

"He loves you." You whisper, watching his hands cradle Casper closer as the little boy moves closer, trying to bury a hole for himself.

"Well, duh, I'm his Uncle." He sticks his tongue out at you, but Lance shakes his head no.

"Daniel, he hates being held by anyone but us. This...this is big for him." Lance smiles, wanting to cry at the fact that someone else can hold his son now.

"Hah! Suck on that, Scotty. I really am the favorite Uncle." Snorting at your brother's childish behavior, you watch the two interact.

"I call babysitting duties." "Deal!" Lance and you shout, making Daniel look up, shocked at your sudden acceptance.

"Wow, guess mommy and daddy need some private time," Daniel whispers to Casper, but you don't disagree with the statement.

"Hey? What's their names?" Daniel asks, making you both smile.

"You're holding, Casper Daniel Stroll. And this is Eleanor Claire-Ann Stroll." Lance announces, watching fresh tears fall down Daniel's eyes.

"No wonder he likes me. We have the same name." He chokes out, holding the boy closer, who just whined before closing his eyes.

"I'm keeping him." Daniel nods as you just sigh, but Lance takes it seriously.

"Like hell, you will." Daniel sticks his tongue out and shields Casper from Lance's hands.

"Off, you knocked my sister up. Give me this." Lance rolls his eyes and then smirks.

"Dude, you're holding my sperm. Really want to keep it?" Lance asks, having Daniel look down at his nephew.

"Take him back." You laugh as Daniel shivers at the thought.

Looking around, you smile at your husband and brother fighting over your little boy; looking down at Eleanor, you kiss her little forehead.

"You're both so loved." Smiling at your little family.

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cheriladycl01 · 5 days

Text

All to avoid you - George Russell x AstonMartinDriver! Reader

Plot: George crashes on the last lap of the Aussie 24 Grand Prix landing himself in the middle of the road. She wasn't far behind and the yellow flag didn't come out in time, her engineer not communicating to her makes her forcefully crash herself out.

A/N: This whole race from start to finish was absolutely wild. Well done to all the drivers that were able to keep George safe while he was in this tricky position! However, this is just a work of fiction what is here!

Credits to umgeorge for the GIF

It was the last lap of the Australian Grand Prix and you'd just overtaken Lance your team-mate, you knew you were gaining on George and you hoped that you could push a little harder.

But George having broke early to avoid hitting Fernando landed his car in the middle of the road, still inside it. And where you were gaining on him the time between him crashing and rolling into the middle of the road and the yellow flag coming up wasn't enough time for you to safely slow your car down. You had seen his car before your engineer and the yellow flag came up.

You swerved to avoid the car, knowing it was fresh and that George would still have been in there. The debris from the wreck rolled under your car and came for the floor meaning you also spun out from the harsh breaking.

"George in the middle-" you hear before the radio cuts out and your car is flipped over.

"And I don't think that yellow flag was called quick enough that is Y/N Y/L/N also out of the race with a nasty crash now just ahead of Russell on the crash and it looks like, her car has fully flipped over!" the commentator adds, looking at the Aston Martin now on it's roof.

"And it doesn't look like she's coming through on radio either..." another commentator adds.

"Y/N can you hear me?" comes through your radio.

"Y-Yeah" you gasp out clutching your chest that felt heavy.

"What happened?" you asked.

"I'm sorry! His crash wasn't called out quick enough and there wasn't a yellow flag by the time you reached him. It happened so quick!" he explains and you nod.

"And is Lance okay, he wasn't too far behind me!" you ask worried about your teammate and the driver in the middle of the road.

"Medical car has stopped for George, they are coming for you as well, just hold on. Lance is okay. His engineer called it quick enough to slow him down. He's asking about you!" he explains and you try to slip out from the car.

You take the wheel and just it out the other side of the halo so its on the grass before you attempt to crawl your way out. A hand comes down and a marshal is there reaching out to help pull you out.

You managed to get out the car with a twist and shimmy, standing up and brushing the dust off you and taking your helmet off and holding it in one hand at the side.

The marshal hands you the wheel before asking if you were okay to get yourself to the car yourself.

"Yeah, I'm all good thank you for helping me out!" you smile and nod before making sure it's safe to jog over to where the safety car has parked up near both the wrecks.

You jump in the back sitting next to George.

"You okay?" you ask and he looks at you with a face like thunder.

"Alright, before you throw a hissy fit and yell at me, check my on-board before you get back. There was no flag and no radio from my engineer until I had already swerved around you to avoid you. So before you run your mouth check!" you huff annoyed with him before looking out the tinted window as the car drives the pair of you away.

"I'm sorry, I'm just angry my race was ruined" he sighs and looks over at you, you arent looking back at him. You refuse to give him that satisfaction.

"I am too...if i kept going at the speed I was I would have passed you and now I have no points for the team. Fuck Lawrence isn't going to be happy" you say.

"I mean, the crash wasn't your fault. It was your engineer and the FIA for not calling the flag quicker!" he offers and you nod, knowing it wasn't but a man like Lawrence, he had it out for you constantly, especially when you performed better than his son.

"He'll find a way to make it my fault unfortunately!" you sign and George looks over at you.

"Why do you stand for that?" he asks seriously.

"Well, right now I don't see any better options" you sigh knowing you'd struggled getting a seat in F1 and right now Lawrence was the only person willing to take the risk by accepting you.

The risk working in his favour as more feminine brands were looking to offer up sponsorships for the team having a female driver in the seat.

"I mean, this year is the year to change if your going to. So many seats are free" he says trying to sound positive but you knew you'd have to graft hard if you wanted to change team.

"Mmmmmm, we'll see" you say.

"I'm sorry, for you know yelling at you the minute you jumped out the car.

"I know it's okay... i get that you are mad!" you sigh looking over to him and smiling, a genuine look passed between the two of you, knowing it was just racing at the end of the day.

And when you were both asked by interviewers who you thought was to blame you both said that it just happened to be an incident in the line of racing... both having some of the calmest interviews despite what happened on track.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul l @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount @styl1shl1v

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #george russel imagine #george russel x reader #george russell x reader #george russell #gr63 imagine #gr63 x reader #gr63 fic #gr63

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seneon · 2 months

Note

Woaaah I'm so glad the you write for mashe. I don't know if ur open for request if not please ignore this

How about Rayne having to bring his twin sons to work cuz his wife is out for business then for some reason Mash and his gang came to the Divine visionary and typical mashle shenanigans ensues.

The catch tho is that the one twin son is like a carbon copy of Rayne and the other is the same but hair color is like in opposite sides.

If ur uncomfortable with this please ignore this. But I hope you have a great day!!!

★ little raynes and mashle shenanigans

notes. little raynes omg (im his wife like literally) also this is the last request before i start on a new project 🫡

one rayne, two raynes, three raynes. and another rayne if you're counting finn to look similar to rayne. one twin looks exactly like his father, with half yellow and half black hair split in the center. his lines the same as rayne, both streaks that runs down his eyes. demeanor like his father's— serious, calm, and collected.

what about the other twin? he is exactly the same like his father. well, not really. he has the colour of your hair and a different type of line design. this twin is on the weaker side, seeing how he only has a single line that runs across his nose. just like you, with a single line. being the weaker twin, he was softer than his elder twin brother, often helping around town or anyone at all.

today rayne is all alone with his sons, as his wife had to visit her family's business to help around, so she left the boys with him. rayne is a busy divine visionary, he couldn't just leave his sons alone. so he brought them to his office. what a surprise, his brother's friends are all there. and rayne's eyes twitched at the chaos that is about to happen.

finn is the first one who greets them, for he is their uncle. being the loving and nice uncle finn is, he often spoils them and doesn't know when to stop. like always, he gave both the twins a candy each, ruffling with their head.

mash who has never seen rayne's children before, is fascinated by the fact that there are two other little raynes. one the exact copy, the other immediately reminding him of you. he doesn't know whether to continue feeling fascinated or to feel fear since there is a mini rayne in town now. what if mini rayne is as powerful as his dad?

lance who had no reaction to them at all. he already saw them, already met them, and already knew them long ago. in fact, the older twin quite likes lance. he sees lance as an icy and cool idol to admire.

dot who keeps the kids if they want tips on how to get a girlfriend and only the younger ames listens, for the elder one immediately finds dot annoying. the younger one is just curious on what the meaning of 'girlfriend' is, before lemon pushes dot away and apologised to the younger ames.

lemon who tells the twins not to mind dot, for he still hasn't find a girlfriend after years of being single. she tells them not to worry as they are still young and instead, gives them the cream puffs she has made for mash which ended up being way too much.

and rayne, who sighs and shakes his head at the growing trouble that he could smell from afar. seeing the piles of paper stacked on his table, he has no choice but to ask the help of the mashle friends to look after his kids. he could trust finn, but he doesn't trust the others. so he purposely gave the task to finn, but everyone else took it as an invitation to babysit two little raynes.

rayne will make sure to complain to his wife when she comes back home.

#⋆ ❨ writing ❩ ֢֢֢ ۟#rayne ames #rayne x reader #rayne x y/n #rayne x you #mashle #mashle x reader #mashle imagines #mashle headcanons #mashle fluff

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a-kind-of-merry-war · 6 months

Text

A Jester's Token

HEY SO. I wrote a thing. Based on @oblivionsdream's Knight/Jester OCs, who are SUPER AMAZING, which you can find here.

Thank you for your wonderful art!! And also accidentally inspiring a jester obsession in me 🤡

No warnings, contains a little suggestiveness, 3.4k words 💖

The grounds were alive with activity. The King doted upon his sons, and now with his second eldest’s twentieth birthday only a scant few days away, the celebrations were in full swing.

The prince, as was his wont, had demanded a tournament to celebrate the day of his birth. The King, as always, had been unable to refuse. And the Knight was looking forward to a week of respite; of celebration and jousting and fun instead of training and war council meetings.

Typically, he tried to remain impassive and stoic with his fellow knights. It was what was expected of him as the King’s champion, after all, and besides: it added an edge to his demeanour that meant orders were obeyed. The other knights weren’t to know that beneath his shining, shuttered helm he was wondering if the stable cat had birthed her kittens yet.

Still he kept his head high as he strode across the grounds, heading towards the armoury where he had left his sword that morning to be honed and polished. Several other knights turned to glance at him as he passed: one, he noticed, standing immediately to attention as he did.

The deference was useful, he supposed, but he hoped it did not extend to the tournament itself. It would be a dull affair if everybody he encountered was afraid of the King’s champion knight.

As he approached the armoury, a familiar noise perked up his ears. He found his steps faltering, his sure stride suddenly broken.

Not everybody was afraid of him.

He turned just in time to see the grinning face of the Jester as he sauntered over, his motley - brand new for the tournament in festive greens and reds - lit up in the dazzling summer sunshine. His hair haloed from his head, sticking in yellow waves from beneath his cap’n’bells. His eyes - startlingly bright, one dark, one nearly gold - shone with excitement.

“Good morning, Sir!” he said cheerily, “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

Lovelier for you, the Knight didn’t say.

“It is indeed,” he said. “Perfect for a tournament.”

“Perfect for a party,” the Jester countered. “I called into the ale tent on the way here, have you seen how stocked it is? Forget the tournament, I fear our Lord means to drown us. Can you swim in that?” he pinged a fingernail against the Knight’s plate.

The Knight rolled his eyes, forgoing a response.

“Although,” the Jester continued merrily, “I must admit, these events always make me laugh.”

“Oh?”

“Come,” the Jester said, “Oh ho - here I am, the picture of virile manhood! Beware my powerful—” he gave a short, sharp thrust. “Lance.”

The Knight bit his tongue to stop himself from laughing. “You have a filthy mind.”

“You should hear me talk about maypoles.”

“I would really rather not.”

“I can do some wonderful things with ribbons, you know.”

“Anything useful in a tournament?”

“Depends what you need,” the Jester said, catching him with a sidelong glance. “I’m very good with knots.”

The Knight swallowed, saying nothing.

“Well!” The Jester said, clearly unphased. “I am afraid I am wanted by— well, by everyone. Which makes it such a shame that I’d rather spend my morning following you around. Nevermind.” His smile twitched a little, before settling back into a grin. “Good luck, my Knight!”

And with that, he was off. The Knight watched him leave, swaying through the crowds with his typically fluid movement. While the Knight would be entering competitions, the Jester would be entertaining in a much different way: joking and turning somersaults and charming the King and his guests. He even had a role in the joust alongside the announcer, riling up the crowds and mocking the competitors.

With luck, the Knight would be able to watch him perform. He enjoyed watching the Jester show off, and he loved his jokes, not that he would ever allow the Jester himself to realise that. The first time they had met he’d been forced to remove himself lest he make an utter fool of himself, and since then the Jester had taken him as a challenge, when he wasn’t making a game of flirting with him.

With a sigh, and a final glance at the Jester’s departing figure, he walked on towards the armoury. He noticed Sir Rowan lingering just outside, standing beside Lady Felicity - one of the Queen’s Ladies in Waiting. Without thinking, he called out a greeting to his fellow knight.

As he approached, he realised far too late that what he thought was simply a polite conversation between knight and lady was something far more intimate. Sir Rowan’s head was tilted just so, Lady Felicity leaning in a little too close. Their hands, he realised, were linked.

Shit. But it was too late now; he had already hailed Sir Rowan and he couldn’t very well turn heel and run. Lady Felicity quickly snatched her hands away, her face mottling in a sweet, pink blush before giving him a slightly lopsided curtsey, bidding them both farewell and quickly rushing off.

As The Knight drew closer, he noticed a scrap of fabric clasped in Rowan’s hand. He pretended not to have seen it as Rowan quickly tucked it into his breastplate.

A favour, then. He hadn’t realised that Sir Rowan and Lady Felicity were courting; although most of their time spent together would have been at banquets and feasts, where the Knight’s attention was more often than not focused on their entertainment and very little else. It was terribly improper to ask Sir Rowan for more information. Even as his friend, he would not push for information too intimate to share; certainly not while Rowan and Lady Felicity were still in the first, tentative steps of the most delicate of dances.

He engaged Rowan in brief conversation, deeply aware of the moment he had managed to ruin. He wished him good luck - making him blush - then headed inside the armoury where he collected his sword.

He couldn't help but peer back as he left. Rowan, now alone, had taken the favour from his breastplate and was tugging it through his fingers. It appeared to be cream-coloured silk: a handkerchief or scarf, perhaps. Rowan's face had gone red.

Something tugged in the Knight's chest. It was a sweet, deeply romantic gesture. It would leave Rowan with no doubt at all about Lady Felicity’s intentions towards him. And, of course, it was furiously lucky: any man blessed with such a token would be sure to do well, especially from one they loved.

The tugging grew more urgent, joined by a leaden feeling in the Knights stomach. He would have no such token. Oh, he was sure that many members of the court would accept him should he attempt to woo them - courtly favours included - but it wasn't any of them he really wanted.

“I would rather spend my day following you around.”

The Knight’s face heated beneath the metal. His heart swelled. Whatever the Jester’s intentions towards him, his feelings were not the sort that spurred a man to give a love token. His were the feelings that spurred a quick fumble behind the stables - perhaps several quick fumbles, judging by the lewdness of the Jester’s tongue. It was no more than that.

Or, more likely, it was even less than that. The Knight was aware of the reputation he had carefully curated at court, and he knew that the Jester had taken him as a challenge. He was just another joke. The Jester had never even seen his face, hadn't seen the scars, didn't know the stories behind them.

He was just teasing.

The Knight tried to shake the thought from his head, fluttering the great plume that burst from the crown of his helm. Chasing such thoughts - be they of fumbles or fools - would get him unseated in the joust and begging for mercy in the duel.

He turned towards the stables, trudging down the muddy path. The earth had been turned by the sheer volume of guests and carts and horses, and was now a sucking, muddy mess.

There was an oddly metallic clink beneath his boot. He paused. He lifted his foot. In the centre of a perfect footprint was a mud-splattered, but unmistakably golden, bell.

There was only one person who wore bells like that.

The Knight picked it up without thinking, desperately wishing he had something to clean it with. He rubbed off as much muck as he could with a fingertip, watching as it glinted in the light. As he turned it in his hand - terribly small against his huge palm - it jingled merrily.

He swallowed and closed his fingers around it, squeezing it tight.

The stables would wait. As a high-ranking man, he had been given a private tent on the edge of the grounds - somewhere he could clean and rest without traipsing through the castle to his chambers. He headed there, pulling the flaps tight shut behind him before unfurling his hand.

The bell had left a neat little indent in his palm. A curving, teasing smile embedded into his skin.

He placed it reverently on the wooden table at the far side of the tent before shooting a final, nervous glance towards the entry. And then he removed his helm.

The air felt cool and good against his burning cheeks. He shook out his hair, tied into a low queue to keep it out of his face, and stared down at the bell. It felt as if it were the only object in the room; perhaps the world.

Mindlessly, he took the cloth he used to tend his sword from the chest beside the table and gently began to clean the little golden thing. Mud had even managed to get inside the bell, and he carefully cleaned away as much as he could until it was shining and jingling once more.

He rolled it in his palm. It felt hot, like a tiny lump of coal, like a nugget of forge-warmed iron.

The Knight thought of Sir Rowan and Lady Felicity.

He would need luck, after all. Skill he had in abundance, but luck? Luck was harder to judge; a tip of the scales that, at present, could fall either way.

Of course, traditionally, a token needed to be a gift. But many Knights - both in tournaments and in battle - found luck where they could snatch it. A sword that had never slipped from their grasp, a tunic worn during a lucky win, a shield taken to war that deflected a killing blow. Perhaps a bell - so small and yet so weighty - could be like those. It was luck, after all, that helped him find it when so many people had stepped over it.

He turned back to the chest and searched through it until he found what he was looking for; the spare ties he kept on hand in case his snapped during the tournament. He typically used them to fasten his gauntlets, and while it was thin the leather was tough and sturdy: perfect for what he needed. Carefully, he threaded the bell onto the strap, ensured it wouldn’t slip off and then twisted the strap around the hilt of his sword, securing it tight.

The Knight gave the sword an experimental shake. The bell jingled against the hilt. He didn’t bother to suppress his smile: it wasn’t as if anyone could see him. The noise set a thrill through him. He would be the first to admit that he was not a musical man, but the ringing of the little bell felt like an angelic chorus just for him.

Besides, he thought, as he sheathed the sword once more: if it didn’t bring him luck, the noise may distract an opponent long enough for him to land a good hit.

He took a few moments to gather himself, taking a long drink of water from the jug atop the table, wiping down his face, and re-tying his hair before donning his helm once more. He pulled on his gloves, too, and now with his hand now gripped tight around the hilt of his sword, he exited the tent.

Outside, the noise was growing more urgent as more people gathered to watch the show. Now buoyed by the token hanging from his sword, he strode with pride towards the centre of the grounds where he intended to take part in the first single-combat duel of the day. It was likely still a little early, but no doubt he wouldn’t be the only one keen to begin and could at least find someone to spar against to pass the time.

He was dodging around a lad from the kennels and a pack of exuberant dogs when he heard a shout from behind.

“Knight! My Knight!”

He hastily shoved his sword behind his back as he turned, watching the Jester bounce across the field towards him.

“I need your skills,” he said, as he slid smoothly to a halt beside him.

“Oh?” The Knight was glad for his helmet, now: the jester couldn’t see him blush.

“Have you seen a bell?” The Jester tugged at the frontmost horn of his cap, which was indeed bell-less. “I’m missing one.”

The Knight gripped his sword harder. He could feel the distinct shape of the bell through his gloves, praying it would not ring and give him away.

“No,” he said, his face so hot he was amazed his helm did not begin to steam, “I cannot say I have.”

“Oh.” The Jester gave him a crestfallen look that was so heartbreakingly sincere that for a moment, the Knight nearly relented. “I suppose it will turn up… or the King will fund me for another, I am sure.”

His eyes darted down, as if taking the Knight in for the first time. His expression turned dark. The Knight found himself standing a little straighter.

“And where are you off to, my chivalrous wonder? That’s—” he peered around the Knight’s back, “—an extremely long sword you have there.”

The Knight rolled his eyes, not that the Jester could see the gesture.

“You have realised,” he said, keeping his tone even, “where we are, yes?”

The Jester gave a dramatic twirl as if assessing his surroundings. “We are standing in the mud,” he grinned.

“Typically,” the Knight said, ignoring him, “A Knight takes part in a tournament. I intend to test my luck in the duel.”

“Luck?” The Jester said, “Not skill? Although—” he gave him another of those long looks, “—I suspect you have plenty of skill in swordplay.”

He gave the Knight a tight, cattish smile, his tongue wetting his lips as he waited for the Knight to respond. The Knight, once he had finally regained control of his lips, could only manage a single word.

“Quite.”

“Well,” the Jester grinned cockily. “I would surely love to see you in action. Lead on, good Sir Knight.”

The Jester looped his hand around his arm, gripping him tight. The Knight was utterly unable to resist, lost in a sudden moment of deep regret that he was so armoured, unable to feel that touch against his skin.

Arm in arm they headed across the grounds towards the ring. The Jester joked and chatted and flirted as they walked, commenting again on that marvellously large blade, but the Knight could barely hear him over the rush of his own spinning thoughts.

He kept his free hand gripped on the sword, over the bell. The Jester couldn’t know.

The Jester finally released him as they reached the ring. Even though the touch had been to the plate steel of his armour and not the skin beneath, the Knight still missed having him hanging from his arm.

“You better win,” he said, stepping back. “There are a dozen other things I could be doing right now, and I refuse to tie my lot to a man who cannot even win a duel for me.”

The Knight’s heart stuttered in his chest. For me. The Jester was watching him, expectantly. And then his eyes widened, as if remembering something.

“Of course!” He said, face splitting into a grin. “You need a token. As you said, to give you luck enough to win. Ah— here…” he reached up, and before the Knight could stop him pulled another bell from his hat. “What’s another bell?” he said with a shrug. “I was lopsided anyway. Here…”

He produced a silk ribbon as if from nowhere, quickly looped it through the bell, and tied it with swift, dexterous fingers to the Knight’s belt.

“There,” he said. “I told you I was good with knots. Now you’ll win.”

The Jester stretched up on the tip of his bell-topped toes, placed a hand to the Kight’s shoulder for balance, and flicked his helmet’s plume with a single, long finger.

“Good luck.”

And with no warning at all, he placed a kiss to the warm metal of the Knight’s helm. Beneath, the Knight felt as if he could no longer breathe, his heart launching a battle of its own.

“I…” he said, gathering himself. “Thank you.”

The Jester gave him another grin, trailing a finger across the spot where his lips had been moments before.

“You’re welcome.”

***

The Jester leaned casually against a stack of crates, watching the Knight perform with genuine interest. The interest, of course, had very little to do with the fight itself - he wanted him to win, sure, but the minutiae of the fight were nothing compared to the strength of his arms, the broadness of his shoulders, or the exceptional noises he made when he struck a particularly good hit.

He fiddled mindlessly with one of the horns of his cap as he watched the Knight take another decisive swing. A hint of gold glinted through the air as he did, catching the light like a comet.

The Jester grinned to himself. No wonder his Knight was being so stiff as they walked towards the ring. What a sneaky little secret; not the sort he had come to expect from him. It was amusing, and quite sweet, too. Anyone would be lucky to have the Knight be their champion, to have him take their token. But the one he had chosen - the one he had taken for himself - was little more than a minstrel’s bell.

He was glad he had stumbled upon the thought to give him a token himself. Now the Knight would know that he would have given him one, had he asked, and even better: now he had twice the luck.

The Knight swung around again, the bell jingling, harmonising with the one the Jester himself had tied to his hip.

Thrice the luck, the Jester thought, if you counted the kiss.

The Knight ducked, dodged and lunged. The Jester watched, lips quirked into a smile.

When the Knight won - a feat which did not surprise the Jester at all - he straightened up, set his shoulders, and looked towards him.

And then his helm snapped down, taking in the hilt of his sword and the bell hanging from it. The Jester was almost surprised that he couldn’t see the Knight blush through his helmet.

The Jester too glanced downwards to the hilt of the sword. He let his gaze linger there. Then he dragged his eyes up, up the Knight’s body, over his chest, to the place where he desperately wished he could properly see his eyes.

He heaved himself away from the crates and waved. The Knight sagged, only a little. A small moment of recognition and relief. A spark of understanding, shared between them.

But the Jester could not stand there all day, no matter how much he wanted to. He shot the Knight another grin - his best grin, saved just for him - blew him a kiss, and swayed away towards the ale tent.

#fanfic #writing #my writing #oblivionsdream #knight/jester #this is what happens when you write a book about a tournament #it gets stuck in your head #and then you cant write about anything else

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chrisdr3 · 2 months

Text

Last minute confessions ~ OP81

Fluff and a bit of embarrassment

Summary: In the drivers' dinner in Abu Dhabi, Y/N is forced to confess her crush to Oscar and vice versa.

The 2023 season came to an end with max winning the last race, making it the most dominant season in F1. After that, everyone decided to have dinner in the same restaurant you did last year, but not for saying farewell to someone. You just liked it and wanted to do it again.

Everyone was already at the restaurant, waiting for you. Some of them started to get a bit irritated of waiting. Fernando saw that and decided to talk. "Don't worry guys, you know Y/N, she's probably late because she always wants to look gorgeous for this kind of events." He smiled.

By the time he stopped talking, you entered the restaurant and approached the drivers' table. You had your hair down, some mascara, eyeliner and lipstick applied and you were wearing this. "Hello guys, sorry for being late." You smiled. "It's okay Y/N, you look stunning by the way." Daniel said.

You sat down in the remaining seat in between Daniel and Oscar. After a bit, everyone turned back to normal. They continued discussing, sometimes involving you in their convos. Except from Oscar. He was blushing slightly and wasn't taking part in any of the conversations.

You didn't really mind, as you knew pretty well that oscar didn't talk very much anyways and that he was more of an introverted type of guy. The dinner was going pretty well, and the food arrived quickly. You ate and after everyone finished, all the drivers decided to stay a bit longer and maybe have a drink.

Suddenly, Lando came up with the idea of asking everyone about their love life. Checo, Nico and K-Mag were married with kids , so they didn't bother replying, Max said he was doing fine with Kelly, Lando, Lance, Logan and Esteban claimed being still single, Lewis didn't bother to find anyone yet, Valterri and Fernando didn't answer, even tho there were rumours about them being seen with women.

There were 9 drivers left, including you and Oscar. Zhou didn't answer, as he was talking to the phone, everyone knew that Pierre and Alex were doing really good with Kika and Lily because of their posts on social media, so they just confirmed it. Carlos didn't want to give any info, just that he's doing pretty decent with Rebecca, George was okay with Carmen and Charles said that Alexandra was waiting for him to get back to Monaco.

After Charles stopped talking, Daniel was asked. He answered that he was more than great with Heidi and that they were planning to go at his family's house in Perth for the holidays. Then, only you and Oscar were left. "Y/N, what's going on with your love life? Are you with someone, are you crushing on anyone?" Lando asked, a smirk plastered in his face.

You blushed, embarrassed. How were you going to tell it? All the drivers turned to look at you. You were getting hotter and redder with every single second passing. "Come on, tell us!" Daniel said. You didn't respond. "Okay, I'll help you. Are you crushing on someone?" Max intervened, his voice calm. You nodded yes. "Is it someone from here?" Max continued. "Y-yes..." "Can you tell us who?" "N-no."

Max stopped, thinking for a bit. "Then we'll play a little game." "Okay..." "Is he blond or brunette?" "Brunette." "So it's not K-Mag, Nico or Valterri." "Yes." "Is he European?" "No." "So, that means we're left with Lance, Logan, Checo, Zhou, Daniel and Oscar." "Right." "Is he from America?" "No." "Then there's Daniel, Zhou and Oscar left. It's not Zhou, am I right?" "You're right." "So there ar the two Aussies left."

"It's Oscar..." You mumbled, looking at your feet, face red as a tomato. Then Oscar turned to look at you, blushing, rubbing the back of his neck a bit embarrassed. "Y/N..." He spoke, breaking the silence. You turned your face to look at him. "I-i like you too Y/N..." You looked at him, smiling a bit. He cupped your face with his hands and kissed you gently. After a little, he pulled back, blushing. "S-sorry..." You slid your hand in his under the table. "It's fine."

Everyone applauded for you and then left you to talk, discussing about other things. "Oscar..." You whispered. "Yes?" "Do you wanna be my boyfriend?" He squeezed your hand gently. "Yes."

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #formula one #oscar piastri #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you

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leclerc-s · 2 months

Text

snow angel - track four

series masterlist // previous // next

DECEMBER 2022

JANUARY 2023

EARLY MARCH 2023

liked by lilymhe, alex_albon, mickschumacher and others

rheareynolds the council sending me off for filming.

tagged: lilymhe

view all comments

user1 somehow all three are very grumpy about rhea leaving.

↳ rheareynolds they were. although the boyfriend has no place to be complaining. he's constantly travelling.

user2 the boyfriend is hot.

↳ user3 you can only see his hair and arms?

↳ user2 and?

vancityreynolds stop lying, i bet they're thrilled.

↳ rheareynolds just because blake always throws a party when you leave doesn't mean my friends and boyfriend do.

lilymhe you couldn't have found a better picture of me?

↳ rheareynolds i think you look very cute

↳ alex_albon that's my girlfriend!

↳ rheareynolds what's your point? she's literally my wife

charles_leclerc have fun but not too much fun!

user4 okay but her cat is literally the prettiest cat i've ever seen.

user5 see i personally love that rhea met lily and the other drivers through lando but they still picked her over him

↳ user6 to be fair they are friendly with lando but you can tell it's not the same as it was.

↳ user7 well lando cheated on his girlfriend and not the other way around.

LATE MARCH 2023

lilymhe and rheareynolds posted new stories

breakfast with the prettiest girl ever.

prettiest surprise visit ever.

charles leclerc rhea come home the children (me and lily) miss you

lily muni he please come back!

max verstappen added two people

logan sargeant bonjour!

logan sargeant i don't speak french

oscar piastri hello?

charles leclerc piastri i swear to seb if you tell nowins about this i will crash into you. alex albon jeez give the kid a chance to breathe sharl

rhea reynolds i wrap filming in may!

rhea reynolds oh hello. oscar piastri and?

logan sargeant i'm logan sargeant, alex's teammate. when will we be getting new music?

yuki tsunoda yes, when can i get new material to further torment norizz?

rhea reynolds july.

lance stroll BOOO!!

rhea reynolds but a single in june

pierre gasly IT'S BARELY APRIL?? THAT'S TWO WHOLE MONTHS AWAY?? mick schumacher sucks to suck charles leclerc YOU LET HIM HEAR IT BEFORE US?? YOUR BEST FRIENDS?? charles leclerc WHAT HAPPENED TO BROS BEFORE HOES?

george russell GIVE US THE TRACKLIST TO MAKE UP FOR YOUR SINS!!

rhea reynolds talk too much, i hate boston, poison poison, gemini moon, snow angel, so what now, the wedding song, pretty girls, tummy hurts, i wish, willow, 23.

charles leclerc claiming snow angel lily muni he claiming pretty girls max verstappen you two are too much sometimes. but i claim so what now.

rhea reynolds his ass is grass. trust.

oscar piastri trust i will be playing this in my drivers room.

MAY 2023

rheareynolds posted new stories

💞💞

i just woke up why the fuck is everyone blowing up my phone? did my nudes get leaked, not that i have any, or some shit? worse, what the fuck did ryan do now?

mick schumacher who fucking spilled??

esteban ocon i spilled milk earlier, why are you asking?? and how do you know??

rhea reynolds how the fuck did some spanish paper find out that i was dating mick??

charles leclerc oh no.

max verstappen YOU TOLD CARLOS??

charles leclerc HE PROMISED ME HE WOULDN'T SAY ANYTHING!!

pierre gasly HE'S FRIENDS WITH NO BITCHES!! WHY THE FUCK WOULD HE KEEP IT A SECRET??!!

oscar piastri this is bad. so bad.

lily muni he OH COME ON!! SERIOUSLY CHARLES??

charles leclerc I FUCKED UP OKAY?! I GET IT! I WILL SPEAK TO CARLOS!

george russell NO! NO MORE TALKING TO CARLOS!!

charles leclerc HE PROMISED!!

max verstappen HIS PROMISES MEAN SHIT! WE BOTH KNOW THAT!

rhea reynolds WHAT THE FUCK CHARLES??

charles leclerc I WAS ALSO DRUNK AND I TRUSTED HIM!!

pierre gasly i thought we learned our lesson after last time?

alex albon this is bad. this is so fucking bad.

rhea reynolds yeah no shit alex.

alex albon you didn't read the article did you?

lily muni he i swear to sebastian that i will be castarating both sainz and norris for what's being said. rhea reynolds oh fuck me.

are you dating mick schumacher?

rhea?

i know you're seeing these

are you seriously dating mick? my friend?

that's rich coming from the guy who cheated on me with a friend.

and if i am i don't think i owe you an explanation.

i also wasn't aware you guys were friends. you take one picture with a guy and suddenly you're friends.

are you fucking kidding me reynolds?

you're dating him?

him of all people

literally fuck you norris.

tell carlos to pull the fucking article or i'm suing his ass for defamation.

for what? telling the truth?

you and i both fucking know that article is straight bullshit. i never did anything to you. i was committed to our relationship more than you ever fucking were.

either he pulls the article or i swear i'll sue him.

fuck you and i hope you choke.

taglist: @emilyval @ihateyougunthersteiner @lesliiieeeee @firetruckstuckley @cashtons-wife @landonorizzz @yoremins @nikfigueiredo @badassturtle13 @cataf1 @silentreader128 @taylorsatl @alessioayla @greeneyesandsunshine @wisteriafence @mrscharlesleclerc @sesamepancakes @localwhoore @vettelsebastianvettel @Pinksstrawberry @yourbane @bborra @aandreea2005 @nichmeddar @asparklysoul @landossainz @scarletwidow3000 @cha-hot @ssararuffoni @cherry-piee @vroomvroommuppett @shineforever19 @kissesandmartinis

strikethrough means i couldn't tag you

CLICK HERE TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST

¡leclerc-s speaks! i do know that the mick quote in the grill the grid video is in reference to seb, but the opportunity was right there so i had to go with it!! if i had a nickel for everytime i made carlos out to be an asshole i'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice. I PROMISE I DON'T HATE HIM!! I ACTUALLY LIKE HIM BUT HE'S LIKE BESTIES WITH LANDO AND IT WORKS OUT SO WELL.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #snow angel series #f1 instagram au #f1 x oc #f1 oc #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 #formula one #f1 fic #formula 1 fic #f1 x female oc #lando norris x female oc #mick schumacher x female oc

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ynbabe · 2 months

Text

Party all night- Lance Stroll x Partygirl! Reader

Am I perhaps obsessed with this vibe? Yes, will I maybe turn this into a series for all the drivers? idk yall tell me 🫣

as always comments and requests are always welcome!!

People don't always like Lance but they definitely don't like his party girl girlfriend.

f1behindts

liked by 21,023 users

f1behindts Lance Stroll was seen with his girlfriend in the clubs of London before the start of the 2024 season

view all 11004 comments

username She’s so prettyyyyyy

username right??? How’d mans pull that???

Username she’s only with him for his money I mean why else?

Username IS HE SMOKING

Username why is he in f1 again? Obviously he doesn’t care about putting the hours in and now he’s smoking? Like give the seat to a driver that deserves it rather than daddy’s boy over here

Babeitsy/nl/n

babeitsy/nl/n london how you have my heart ❤️

yourbsf1 Why'd we let you choose the club??

babeitsy/nl/n cause i know the best spots 🤭 yourbsf2 you literally ran off with ur bf 5 sec in yourbsf3 exactly BOOOO lancestroll sorry guys but she loves me more 🤷‍♂️

username bro how is he with someone like her...

username shes literally making him smoke doesn't she know how bad that is for F1 drivers?

babeitsy/nl/n girl he had a lollipop in his mouth 😭 I love my vroom vroom man very much yourbsf1 idk why yall think we can make this man do shit. he's soooo stubborn

lancestroll ❤️

babeitsy/nl/n miss you alr mwuah

babeitsy/nl/n

babeitsy/nl/n me and @/yourbsf1 with @/fernandoalofficial

babeitsy/nl/n finally met the man the myth the legend, thanks babe!!

lancestroll could not get her to stop giggling, this old man stole my girlfriend fernandoalofficial it was good to meet you, your a lucky man lancito

yourbsf1 came in uniform for this moment 🫡

username why is she sticking to him?? lance break up with her man, shes a 304

username girl he's not gonna pick you, why dont you let that girl live

username the fact that Lance thinks that his girlfriend would leave him for alonso says a lot about her ewwww

lancestroll

lancestroll to the best girlfriend, I'll love you even when you drag me to clubs at 3 at night and your friends keep stealing my coffee. I don't care what others say you're the love of my life.

babeitsy/nl/n aww baby i love you 🥹

lancestroll love you too babe

yourbsf2 the call-out was unnecessary but I'll allow it cause this is sweet

username he really said fuck yall i love my girl

username the way y'all were dogging on her, now what??

hope yall liked this!! requests are always open!!

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 smau #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll #fernando alonso

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f1version · 2 months

Note

Congratulations! Your works are amazing! You totally deserved this. Can i please request a headcannons about a secret reliationship between mick schumacher and a female driver?

KISSING IN SECRET ★ MSC47

pairing: mick schumacher x merc driver!reader ( she/her ) word count: 1679 warnings: mentions of misogyny !!!

2k celebration ★ general masterlist

Love comes easy to you and Mick—friends for too long, eager to make up for the time lost. What’s hard is the nature of your relationship; secrecy protecting your peace.

It begins at a pub in Austin, 2021. You were celebrating your first win for Mercedes, and even though his result was far from good, Mick decided to tag along. Then, all it took was a couple of shots, a bit of dancing, and a lonely corner to blur the lines of friendship and fall on each other’s lips.

A week of tension, anxiety, and avoidance later, you were falling asleep in his arms, heavy breathing and soft touches all over your body.

Now your life is based on clandestine meetings, brushing fingers or stolen kisses, and a well put illusion of friendship.

And no one ever thought much about your closeness, not until Mick moved to Mercedes in 2023.

When people saw Mercedes’ star driver sharing so closely with the new guy—one whose performance didn’t leave people’s mouths,—they prayed for a big story. By the time Australia rolled by, the PR team requested distance while the cameras were on.

And it wasn't as if these types of requests were foreign to you; misogyny was a thing after all, but you were never in love with George, or Lewis, or Alex, or Lance, or anyone but Mick. It was frustrating, but it didn't change a lot of things—especially because Mick was a reserve driver.

Of course, the topic would make it into your conversations:

“Do you think it would be a disaster? I mean going public.” Mick asked almost out of nowhere. You were lying on his chest, freshly showered after a disappointing Austrian GP. “Maybe. It will most likely follow us forever.” You said, and he sighed, “Do you think the team would be okay with it?” “I think they care about us enough.”

There were stories about this. Drivers within the same teams having such a strong relationship (let it be romantic or platonic, who knows) that they destroy not only their’s but the team’s trust.

Both of you believe Lewis knows. Your only evidence being the small pep talk he gave you moments before his last race in the sport, in 2022. Something about being selfish, about how this sport will always judge, so you might as well take what you want.

You wanted everything. To be selfish, to take your time, to figure everything out first, but also to just be reckless. You didn’t tell him that; you just expressed your gratitude.

The European arm makes it a bit easier. Motorhomes are used, and hotel rooms become unnecessary. It’s as simple as walking into a room and not caring about avoiding people in the hallway; your only excuse is your well-known friendship.

You love spending nights laughing, kissing, crying, and everything in between.

You were reckless, and learned to be as careful as you needed after the George incident™

It happened in Belgium; the race and debrief ending hours ago. You were in your room, boyfriend sneaking in to talk about the race, which ended in a very lovely make-out session. And that’s when (clueless) George decided to knock on your door.

Mick ran to your closet, making a mess of your race suits to be able to close the door. You, absolutely terrified of the Paddock’s Gossip Girl, threw a blanket over your body, taking a deep breath before facing George’s comments of: “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” and “Also hit by a truck,” and “Need help with the suits?”

You rolled your eyes and had him complain about the car with you for forty-seven minutes. Mick could barely feel his legs after that one.

At some point, the team starts talking. More about Mick having a crush than anything—especially since he doesn't deny it. But it’s mostly a joke; no one takes it too seriously until that teasing reaches Toto’s ears.

For a second, you were ready to be called to his office and hear him talk about how he supported whoever you chose to love, but that if someone or something was making you uncomfortable, you must tell him.

You had always been grateful for those talks. In the end, you knew they were there because of how ruthless the media had been in 2020, after your first dating rumors with a driver—with George, out of all people, your teammate then and your teammate now. George who had (and has) a girlfriend. It had been an awful sophomore season, to say the least.

This was different, though. This was not the media making up things; this was his own team talking about his reserve driver having a crush on his driver. This could be a different story.

Here’s the thing: You had never heard the teasing in person, you knew of it because of Mick. You spent nights laughing at it together, making up responses he could give to hard launch your relationship. They never got out of the coziness of your bed, but it was fun.

That particular day wasn’t Mick gossiping, that day you were there, and it caught you off guard. A good off-guard, you were ready to laugh it off.

But Toto was also there, mistaking your surprise for discomfort. And so you weren’t called to his office, you stood next to him during a 20-minute talk on professionalism, respect, and boundaries.

You were grateful, not knowing where that joke could end up… But still, you and Mick laughed the whole night.

Also, I would be lying if I said it didn’t set off an alarm, bringing to the table a thought you had been trying to avoid: the consequences of public. The need for security.

Consequences mean a lot to people, especially in your sport. A driver’s health could be destroyed by not acknowledging them after all.

For you, consequences meant having the media hang on to it forever to diminish your work. It means being called names, be harassed by fans. Means being accused of taking advantage of your power. It could even mean closing doors to other female drivers because misogyny is a thing.

For Mick, it means another reason for his place in Mercedes to be questioned. “Who knows how long they have been dating?” “She and his last name gave him a place.” It means being portrayed as an exploiter, his relationship reduced to an unethical plan to get back on track. Means being praised at your expense.

But there are pros. There’s a necessity to continue changing people’s minds, to be happy, selfish, and own it.

Summer break gets in the way of those conversations though...

Breaks are your favorite part of the year (as a couple). You either stay in Switzerland or avoid the so-called “hard launch islands,” where drivers pretend obliviousness towards snapping pictures of them and their partners.

(Sebastian Vettel gave it the name by the way)

“What if we soft launch?” You asked one morning, scrolling through Pinterest and looking at all the ways a soft launch could happen. Mick choked on his drink, coughing a bit before answering, “I’m so sorry, babe, but what?” “Hear me out! We can have people know we are in a relationship, but they don't have to know it’s us yet. It can be a years-long soft launch if we want.”

Mick stared at you for a whole minute, smirk following it. He thought it was brilliant, laughing while trying to properly kiss you.

“We have to tell PR, tho.”

Two weeks later, you called on a meeting with PR, lawyers, and Toto, they had no idea what would be discussed.

Toto's eyes went wide as he saw you and Mick enter the room together, and everyone followed his motion after you briefly explained the situation.

Your PR manager spoke first, “I won't lie and tell you it’s going to be easy; both of you understand how cruel the media is, but I also don’t think it will be as hard as we imagine... if you go public, of course.”

Then Toto started talking about how, to some extent, he understood your worries. How “People will talk sh*t all the time; you need to unconditionally support each other so it doesn’t kill you.” He gave the support talk and visited a couple of logistical questions.

Five days later, Mick had soft-launched his girlfriend, and five weeks after that, you had a boyfriend.

Eventually, you told some friends (those who didn’t know already.)

George was 100% not surprised. He grins and shouts, "Knew it!” and suggests a double date with him and Carmen. (To that plan, other couples are added—Alex, Lance, Esteban, etc.)

It turns out, with the help of your team and the correct people, everything becomes easier. From interacting in front of the cameras to booking rooms.

One of your favorite things is the teasing your friends/colleagues give Mick after you score a podium. He starts giggling and muttering about how proud he is of you, cheeks turning pink and eyes unable to leave you.

Mick loves sitting next to you during debriefing, letting you play with his hand under the table when anxiety strikes.

It feels good. Not to be so secret around the paddock.

“You know I love you, right?” “Yeah, but I love you more.” “Okay, competitive!”

Sometimes you want everyone to know. Surprise the world with Mick being the guy on your Instagram, and Mick feeling the need to shout in everyone’s faces that his girlfriend wasn't the model they speculated to be.

The third year of your relationship, 2024, is the hardest. There are eyes on you all season, commentary becomes stronger as you fight with Max on track, and so rumors of your relationship with Mick arise.

Mick hates everything being said about you and eventually can’t hold back the need to be loud about it. And so do you.

Both of you want to be selfish. Take whatever you want out of this sport. Who cares what people say.

165 notes · View notes

autisticlancemcclain · 7 months

Text

“Neither of you are getting it.”

Twin sighs come from his laptop speakers. Lance lifts his head up from where he’s smushed it into his pillow to glare at his two best friends who apparently hate him, for some reason.

“I mean, there’s not much to get,” Pidge says. “You’re a big dumb gay loser and this predicament effects you emotionally.” She looks at Hunk as if to ask, right?, and Hunk, who is a traitor of the worst kind, shrugs in agreement.

“I don’t even get what you’re worried about, man. You have consistently been the one to get him the best gifts for years. None of us even try to beat you.”

“That’s the point!” Lance shrieks. “You’re not listening! I had ideas every other year, Hunk! This year I have nothing!” He taps his head aggressively. “There is not one thing in here! Nada!”

Pidge snickers. “Well, that’s not new.”

“Can it, Pidgeon.”

Hunk holds his hands up placatingly before the two of them can really start to go at it. “Alright, alright. Pidge, have mercy on him. He’s suffering. Lance —” he falters. “Dude, you walked into that one. Sorry.”

Lance will concede to that point. He kind of set his own trap. But still, he’s having a crisis, Pidge as his best friend should be going easy on him, so he sticks his tongue out at her.

“I just — ugh.” He takes a moment to fluff his pillows back up before falling backwards on them and throwing a hand over his face. This is a ridiculous thing to be so bothered by, and he knows it, but he is. Bothered by it, that is. He hasn’t been this lost since the first year they were in space.

“Lance,” Hunk says gently, startling him. “It’s August, dude. Keith’s birthday is two months away. You really, truly, do not need to be stressing about it.”

Lance’s eyes trace the long-faded glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. His gazes unfocuses on the red-orange star that represents Pollux, which has always been his favourite.

“This will be the first time I’ve seen him in months,” Lance says quietly. “I want him —” he swallows. The dryness of his throat makes his voice scratchy. “I want to be perfect.”

It. He had meant to say, I want it to be perfect. Because that’s what he wants — he wants Keith to get here safely and actually be able to stay this time and nothing to go wrong and him to celebrate his birthday surrounded by his loved ones, his friends and family. And — Lance. Wants to be there. Also.

He swallows again. It’s harder this time.

“He’s going to love anything you give him,” Pidge says, uncharacteristically soft. “You know he’s just going to be glad to see you upright and in one piece.”

Lance winces and the strained quality of her voice, the sudden darkness in Hunk’s expression. He knows he’s the cause of it.

It was hard on the team, his death.

He knows it was. That’s why he never talks about it. (They were never supposed to even know about it. When Lance’s soul was yanked back into his body and Allura gasped in relief and hugged him to her chest and sobbed out, I thought I was too late, Lance clamped his mouth shut and kept it that way. When he had rare moments on their long trip home where the adrenaline began to fade and he felt his heart begin to slow, he picked fights. He ran sims. He made stupid decisions. He kept his body distracted and his mind wound so tightly around Red’s that there was no chance for it to slip, to remember what had happened to him, to fade back into that dark and silent place. He kept his mouth shut and kept his quintessence dragged up to the highest level he could bring it.

And when they defeated Sendak, and they had to sacrifice their lions or sacrifice their friend, Lance’s hands shook and he made the obvious choice. And he doesn’t know what happened, when the adrenaline finally faded and the one thing keeping him tethered to their plane disappeared, but he knows when his soul was yanked back into his body, permanently this time, his friends wouldn’t answer his questions or let him out of their sight and all of them had the same haunted look to their eyes. He has never had the strength to ask. But he has been careful with himself, since. He covers his Altean marks — a testament of how much Allura gave of herself to keep him alive — and keeps his feet planted on Earth and out of danger and knows that he owes it to them to keep himself safe.)

“Well, anything I could give him would be better than what you got him last year,” Lance says loudly, beating back the oppressive silence that has fallen over them. It works — Pidge scowls at him, remembering the plant she had got him that had turned out to be highly toxic to any Galra. Hunk snickers at the memory of the bright blue hives that had covered Keith’s skin for weeks.

“How was I to know?” Pidge cries. Hunk and Lance’s increasing laughter only seems to make her angrier “He — ugh! It doesn’t matter, anyway, because you handmade him a leather sheath for his knife so he wasn’t looking at what I was giving him anyway! Shut up! Ugh!”

“It’s true,” Hunk agrees, chuckling. “We should make you gift stuff last. It’s not fair and makes everyone else look bad. He couldn’t take his eyes off that sheath, last year. He still wears it every day.”

Pidge mutters something in her hand that sounds suspiciously like “he couldn’t take his eyes off of someone,” so Lance ignores her in favour of whining again.

“Yeah, well, there’s no point this year because I’ve got nothing. I started making that sheath in June. I started making his jacket from two years ago in March. But this year I didn’t have any ideas and now I don’t have the time, even if I do come up with something. ” He sighs, defeated. “It sucks. I’ve hardly seen him outside of a computer screen and I’m only going to see him less, and I can’t even give him something to remember me by.”

“You’re talking like you’re never going to see him again,” Pidge points out. “There would be way less pressure if you just — saw him more, dude.”

Lance scoffs. “Yeah, right. Lemme just pack up and run off to space with him. Boom, all problems solved.”

He blinks.

He sits up so fast he very nearly brains himself on his bed frame.

“Holy shit,” he whispers. He looks over at his friends, who are smiling widely. His heart pounds.

Holy shit.

“I gotta go,” he shouts, scrambling to grab his laptop.

“Goodbye, Lance,” Hunk says, rolling his eyes fondly.

Pidge makes a crude gesture at him because she’s the worst. “Bye, gay pining loser!”

He slams the laptop lid shut and holds it tightly to his chest. Everything, finally, starts to click into place — Lance smiles; small at first, but quickly his mouth spreads so wide his cheeks ache, and his eyes practically squish shut.

He knows what to do.

———

On the morning of October 23rd, he is stressing.

“You’re embarrassing,” calls Allura, from where she‘s been lazing on the couch and eating pineapples for the last three days.

“I regret asking for your help,” Lance grunts, struggling to lift a sack of flour. He side eyes her. “Especially because you’re supposed to be helping, Miss Superstrength.”

Allura snorts, shoving another chunk of pineapple in her mouth. “I am helping. If I wasn’t here you would have talked yourself out of this several times over. You’re welcome!”

“Ugh,” Lance says, because she’s right and he knows it. “I’m not letting you lick the spoon.”

“What? Hey!”

He does let her lick the spoon. Because he has no discipline. But to her eternal credit she does actually help, too, and in more ways than just picking him up and physically shaking him out of his many freak outs, and he has a lot of them.

He’s been planning this for weeks. There are so many aspects, so many moving parts, that it’s just — stressful. Trying to put together a party that balances all the people who want to come together and celebrate Keith’s 25th with every single time constraint and restoration effort and even Keith’s own discomfort with too much fanfare is…a lot. Plus all the actual stuff that goes into hosting people at a party — Lance absolutely would not be able to do any of this without Allura’s help. She is, after all, his best friend, even though she drives him crazy and always has, in more ways than one.

At eleven thirty, when all the (tasteful, despite what his siblings had insisted was too boring) decorations have been set up and most of the food has been prepared, Allura clasps her palms to his cheeks and says, “Lance, breathe.”

Lance looks at her with wide eyes and says, “I’m cancelling everything.”

“You’re not.”

“I am. I can’t do this. What was I thinking? This is — cringe. Ridiculous.” His chest shakes on an inhale. “What was I thinking, ‘Llura?”

She hums thoughtfully. Her thumbs trace his cheekbones, wiping away the makeup that covers his Altean marks, making Lance twitch but not move.

“You were thinking,” she says quietly, “about how long it has been since everyone has been on the same planet.”

He swallows. “Yeah.”

“And how much we have all missed each other.

His shaking hands come up to grip her wrists, breath shuddering as he exhales.

“Yes.”

“And. Maybe. How much you miss Keith.” She pulls her hands away from his face and wraps them around his hands. “How much you miss the stars, even.”

“I’m scared,” he admits.

She squeezes his hands. “When has that stopped you?”

———

It’s three thirty and there’s still no sign of Keith.

Shiro and the rest of the Atlas crew, including Hunk and Veronica, arrived arrived sometime around one. The Holts came in right on their heels. Kolivan, Krolia, and a few other Blades Keith has kept up with over the years showed up a few hours ago. Lance’s family has been here the whole time, and Coran and Romelle came with Allura. Everyone that Lance had invited to come is here.

Except the one person Lance actually wants to come.

“Lance,” Shiro greets, somehow sensing his anxiety like the guru goody goody he is and popping up next to him.

Lance smiles anyway. He’s missed him too much to do anything else — he hasn’t seen anyone on the Atlas since their last restock, ten weeks ago.

“Hey, Shiro.”

“You freaking out?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I’d be shocked if you weren’t, you walking Xanax advertisement.”

That startles a laugh out of Lance, and he shoves him, grateful for the distraction. Shiro grins wide and throws an arm around him, guiding him away from the front door — where he’s been biting his nails and staring at the sky in anxious hope for the last twenty minutes — and back to the rest of the party, ducking under flailing limbs and the random football that someone has brought out for some reason (Marco, probably).

“He’s gonna come, you know. He’s been excited about it since you invited him. I have received no less than nine hundred and twenty-two texts about it. It’s all very sweet and embarrassing. He’s coming, Lance.”

Lance huffs. “Unless he’s dead or maimed somewhere. I did some quick stat evals and there’s at 37% chance he was attacked on the flight to Earth and is bleeding out as we speak.”

Shiro stops them. He blinks at Lance several times. He sighs.

“You actually need to see a psychiatrist. Genuinely.”

“Nah.”

Shiro flicks him on the forehead, but the fond smile stays affixed to his face. Soon Lance finds himself relaxing, tucked under Shiro’s arm. He’s probably right — he usually is. Keith is chronically late, just as a person. Lance even told him the party started at ten just to make it more likely that he’d show up before everyone left. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be places — he just struggles with the concept of time passing, and also gets distracted a lot. (There are a lot of people who need Keith’s help, after all, and he’s a bleeding heart if Lance has ever known one. All humans are wired to respond to calls for help, but Keith seems almost attuned to them. If Lance thinks about his crooked smile and kind eyes for too long he gets physically nauseous.)

As Lance’s watch ticks its way to four o’clock, a light streaks across the sky, and before Lance knows what he’s doing he ducks under Shiro’s arm and starts running. He flings open the back gate and slides down the sandy hills, barely managing not to trip on rocks and pits in the sand where children have dug little pools. He doesn’t bother to slow as the aircraft makes its fiery descent, confident the pilot will not hit him, and by the time he makes it across the beach his bare feet burn and he’s stepped on a sharp shell and lost his jacket somewhere near the house. But it doesn’t matter, because the craft lands and seconds later the door flings open and Keith comes sprinting out, still clad in armour, hair long and thick and braided back, and he runs at Lance at full speed and they collide at the top of a sand dune and Lance leaps into his arms and Keith loses his balance and they go tumbling down, laughing, Keith’s hand on his waist and Lance’s fingers clutching tightly at his shoulders.

“You made it!” Lance shouts, smile wider than he ever thought capable.

Keith laughs again, full-bodied and relieved, crooked incisors on full display and long neck pulled back as his head rests on the ground.

“I know! I’m late, I’m sorry, I lost track of time and —”

“You always lose track of time,” Lance says warmly. He traces a strand of hair that has loosened from Keith’s braid, brushing it off his forehead and tucking it behind his ear. He stays where he is, half-pinning Keith into the sand, knees on either side of him, re-memorizing the curve of his grin and the indigo of his eyes and the scars on his face and the softness of his gaze. Suddenly his chest aches, painful in the best possible way, and his stomach pits and swirls and butterflies flutter wildly in his abdomen. Heat zaps up his veins and sparks through his arteries. The slowly setting mid-autumn sun casts golden light on Keith’s face and Lance is reminded, again, how breathtaking things are outside of Earth.

“Happy birthday,” he breathes, choking on the words.

Keith’s eyes crinkle. His hand comes up to cup his cheek, thumb pressing gently on the gold Altean marks. They curve perfectly around the shape of his fingerprint.

“I missed you, Bluebell.”

Someone huffs. “Yeah, and he nearly killed us trying to get here. Some kind of leader you are, Captain.”

Keith flushes, gently pushing Lance up so he can get up and glare at Ezor properly. “We were fine!”

“We crossed nine hundred million lightyears in two days!”

“I took a shortcut!”

“Through weblum mating grounds!”

Lance punches his friend in the shoulder. Keith pouts at him, wounded.

“You flew through weblum mating grounds?!”

“It was fine!” Keith defends. “It wasn’t even an issue!”

Acxa scoffs incredulously. “We were chased by fourteen weblums at once, Kogane.”

“But did you die?”

All three of Keith’s crew roll their eyes. Keith crosses his arms smugly. Lance loves him so fiercely that it hurts.

“Keith!”

With what Lance can only call divine instinct, he has enough forethought to throw himself out of the way before a five foot nothing blur throws herself at Keith’s person and sends them both crashing to the ground, significantly more painfully that Keith and Lance’s whole thing. Keith groans loudly, but Pidge doesn’t even give him half a second to complain, dragging him back upright and hugging him properly. Keith, softie that he is, hugs her back immediately, smiling into her hair.

“Hey, Pidge.”

“Happy birthday, loser! Birthday beats!”

She, immediately, starts to let him have it, impervious to Keith’s yelps. He attempts to squirm away, but Zethrid, lover of violence and also loud supporter of Pidge in general, firmly clamps onto his shoulder to allow Pidge to assault him in peace.

“That was twenty-six!” he says in outrage when she finishes.

She smiles pleasantly. “You were late.”

Hunk, thankfully, chooses that moment to jog over, carrying an ice pack because he’s an angel and also a genius.

“Figured Pidge would come in fists swinging,” he jokes, leaning down to hug Keith tightly. “Happy birthday, man. It’s been too long.”

“It’s been two weeks,” Keith protests, but he looks like he agrees.

It doesn’t take long for the rest of the party to flock over, despite the fact that it would be much easier for everyone to just wait for Keith to walk over to them. Lance isn’t surprised — it’s not like he could wait, after all. When Keith is around, people gather. Such is the way of the world.

He smiles at the crowd of Keith’s loved ones, and especially at the bewilderment on his face. It’s been years, but Lance knows that he still gets surprised when he’s reminded how big his family has gotten. It’s nice to see that reminder written all over his face. He edges out of the smattering of people and starts to head back to the house, figuring he might as well start setting up the table to get dinner started now that Keith’s here. Most of it is already cooked and keeping warm in the oven, but he figured it would be best to wait until everyone was ready to —

“Hey, Lance, wait up.”

He startles when a hand wraps its way around his wrist, relaxing when he recognises the calloused fingers and leather-covered palm. Keith jogs over the rest of the way now that he has Lance stopped, falling into step next to him.

“What’re you doing?” Lance asks, looking at him urgently. “Go say hi to everyone!”

Keith shrugs. “I’ll get there.” He flashes another smile at Lance and it’s crooked and familiar and Lance is weak in the knees. “I started an argument about human versus Altean time measuring systems. Everyone is now picking sides. They won’t notice I’m gone for the next ten minutes at least. I’m all yours, Sharpshooter.”

Lance resists the urge to bury himself in the sand and die of mortification. There’s actually no physical reason for Keith to look the way that he does. It’s — too much. The smouldering eyes and sturdy shoulders are one thing, but with the whole — grin and hair and wide hands and fucking — everything else; it’s too much. It’s a lot. Keith should maybe — wear a mask, or something. Or a hood. Or be more of a klutz, just so he’s humbled slightly.

“Oh,” Lance croaks, trying desperately not to focus on the way Keith’s hand is still holding onto Lance. “That’s — cool.”

“Cool.”

Blue, Red, if your spirits are still kicking around somewhere, send help, he prays at the heavens.

Apparently they are, because the heavens do indeed provide.

The air in front of the sparks and warps, flashing blue so bright Lance had to squeeze his eyes shut. He hears a loud bark, and opens his eyes again just in time to catch the ball of fur and floof that throws himself into his arms.

“Kosmo!” he cries, pulling away from Keith in his haste to hug the space-wolf tightly. Kosmo yips in delight, covering Lance’s face in dog slobber as he wiggles around in excitement. “Oh, buddy, I was wondering where you were! Mwah! Mwah mwah mwah!”

“He saw the crowd on the descent and got nervous,” Keith explains, scratching Kosmo’s fur fondly. “He was hiding in the back, huh, buddy?”

“Like father like son,” Lance teases. He adjusts the big dog into his arms so he’s half on his shoulders, panting right next to his ear and giving him gross slobbery kisses every three seconds.

“I do not hide from crowds,” Keith huffs. “And he can walk, Lance. Don’t baby him. He’s always spoiled after he hangs out with you.”

“You do so. And of course I spoil the little baby!” Lance coos, scratching under his chin. Kosmo howls in excitement, tail thumping hard against Lance’s hip. “Who’s the bestest boy? Who is my favourite in the whole big universe? It’s you! Yes, Kosmo-baby, it’s you! Good boy!”

“He’s not your favourite,” Keith grumps.

“Yes he is! Oh, yes he is!”

He coos over Kosmo for the whole walk back to the house, only setting him down when they make their way to the kitchen. Keith grabs the dog gently under the ear when he finally stands on his own, bending down to look him straight in the eyes.

“Kosmo,” he says quietly, angling himself slightly away from Lance, “remember what we Talked About.” He stares at the wolf for several moments. “You know. About the — thing.”

Amazingly, the dog seems to bark in understand. Keith nods in satisfaction, patting him on the head. “Good. Go do.” With a poof Kosmo disappears again, leaving just the two of them in the kitchen.

Lance pouts. “Aw. I wanted to spend more time with him. I haven’t seen him in months.”

Keith looks affronted. “You haven’t seen me in months!”

Lance turns away to hide his smile, busying himself with the food. “Eh.” He waves an oven-mitt-clad hand dismissively. “I text you all the time.

“You’re a bully,” Keith pouts. “You’re being mean to me on my birthday.”

“At the party I put together for you, dweeb. Don’t you pout at me.”

In response, Keith inserts himself into Lance with the guise of helping him plate and pouts harder.

“Bully,” he emphasizes.

Lance flicks him on the nose. Keith catches his hand and holds it hostage between two of his, rubbing his thumb along the bump of Lance’s wrist. Lance considers screaming.

“Help or get out of my kitchen,” he manages instead.

Smirking, Keith does, loading garlic knots onto a plate and stealing several, thinking he’s slick. He’s not — Lance notices, but it’s Keith’s birthday and Lance also ate like six already, so he lets it slide.

They have everything ready to go in under five minutes, loading up as much as they can carry and heading outside to set it all out. Everyone else is back by the time they get there, and Hunk and Shiro scramble to come help set up. Very quickly the party is in full swing, people eating and laughing and wishing Keith a thousand happy birthdays. Keith has always claimed to hate attention and crowds, but he’s — glowing, really. His smile doesn’t leave his face. Maybe it’s that he’s older and maybe it’s that he knows everyone. But more likely it’s the easy confidence that’s grown in him over the years, sprouting from the knowledge that he is good and he is kind and he is loved, and trusting everyone who assures him this is true. Lance remembers when he hunched his shoulders and scowled at anyone who looked at him too long. Now he smiles when someone calls his name.

There’s no rhyme or reason to the party. Lance had attempted to plan it, but given up quickly — he knows his people. They’ll flutter around something until inspiration hits and they’ll flutter around something else. The only constant has been food and loading Kosmo up with affection.

As the sun begins its journey below the horizon, someone — Adam — forces Keith into a random lawnchair and says, “Open your gifts, gremlin.”

Immediately, everyone else clambers to grab their gifts and gather around, ignoring Keith’s protests of “I’m twenty-five goddamn years old, I don’t need gifts, you people waste your time and money —” and arguing over who goes first.

Adam goes first. Obviously.

Despite Keith’s grumbling, he’s very obviously touched. He gets a range of things, from a fancy knife from his mother (again) to a framed photo from Shiro, with he and Adam grinning widely at a camera as a young Keith snores in Shiro’s lap. Keith starts bawling some time around gift number three and never really stops. Lance tries to hand him tissues, but after he uses up an entire box decides to let him be a big emotional dork in piece.

“Is this a crystal from the first Balmera we ever visited,” Keith sobs.

Hunk smiles, amused. “It is.”

He makes his way over to Keith’s lawn chair and hugs him tightly for several minutes, muttering something and pressing dozens of kisses into his hair. Keith holds him tightly. Lance himself cries on several occasions, but he’s not alone.

“I just love everyone so much,” Keith blubbers.

“Here we go,” teases Allura, but she’s the one to shoo everyone out of his space to give him a break. “Take a few minutes, darling. Gather yourself. Let me know when you’re up for company again.”

Keith nods at her gratefully. Kosmo makes his way onto Keith’s lap and plants himself there, curling up and laying his head on Keith’s knees. Lance sits on the lawn chair next to Keith, offering him a glass of water that he accepts gratefully.

“I do this every year,” Keith laments, attempting to dry his eyes.

Lance pats him delicately on the hand. “Don’t worry. It’s charming.”

Keith sniffles. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Yes.”

Lance is the only one who hasn’t given Keith his present. Well, and Allura, technically, since she’s part of it. Part of him wants to do it now, get it over with. He even finds the words for it, but then Pidge hollers something about cake, and Keith, who has the biggest sweet tooth in the entire universe, brightens, looking at Lance hopefully, and Lance swallows it down.

“Go sit at the table,” Lance orders. “I’m doing candles and you’re blowing them out.”

“That’s babyish,” Keith protests stubbornly.

“No candles, no cake.”

“Ugh.”

Keith gets up and goes to sit at the table, Kosmo pattering after him.

Smiling to himself, cheeks redder than he would like, Lance ducks back into the kitchen, digging around the cupboards for the candles he bought the other day and carefully pulling the cake out of the fridge.

It’s chocolate-chocolate-chocolate-chocolate. Quadruple chocolate. It’s chocolate cake with chocolate custard and chocolate frosting covered in chocolate decorations. What it is is sugar on a platter, and Keith will devour it. Lance spent more hours than he’s willing to admit on making it. If anyone questions him even a little he is going to die on the spot.

He carefully sticks twenty six candles — one for wishing — on the top of the cake, lighting twenty-five of them. Everyone is already sat down by the time he walks back outside, and the second Coran sees them he starts singing loudly, and everyone else is quick to join in. As much as Keith tries to roll his eyes about the truly startling amount of flame on his cake, nothing he can do can hide the obvious excitement that lights up his face upon sight of the chocolate monstrosity. He takes a deep breath and blows out the candles when the song ends, extinguishing all but one. Immediatey, a ripple of teasing snickers and ooooooou’s fill the air.

“One candle left! You’re gonna get a boyfriend this year!” Pidge shouts, looking directly at Lance.

Both Keith and Lance flush up to their foreheads.

“Cut the cake!” Allura shouts, because she is a true ally and Lance loves her.

Grateful for the distraction, Lance does, nudging Keith out of the way when he tries.

“If you cut the cake then you can’t get the first slice, dorkbrain. Sit down. Let me.”

He does let Lance cut the cake, which makes Lance feel touched for some reason. God, Shiro is right. He needs a psychiatrist. He hates it when Shiro is right.

He’s very smug to receive dozens of compliments on his cake, highest of all from Keith, who scarfs down his first piece in literal seconds (thirty seven, to be exact). He has several more. There will be no leftovers.

But Lance knew that.

It doesn’t take long for people to start milling about again; finishing their dessert and picking at the various fruit trays and chatting and watching the last rays of sun disappear. Lance twitches nervously, stealing glances at Keith, until Allura walks up to him, pinches him on the shoulder, and says, “Get your quiznak together.”

And Lance grumbles, “Yeesh, woman. Alright,” and forces himself to walk over to Keith, who is spinning some hugely exaggerated story to Nadia and Sylvio.

“Children,” Lance says when Keith finally takes a breath, “Tío Lance has to talk to Keith about boring adult things. Go harass your Tío Marco, it will be fun.”

“Quieres tiempo a solas con tu nooooooovioooooo,” the twins singsong in unison, and then run away cackling. Lance flushes bright red and considers pelting strawberries at them like the little shits deserve.

“What was that?” Keith asks, bewildered.

“Probable cause,” Lance mutters darkly.

Keith snorts. “Please don’t murder your niblings.”

“That’ll be my gift to you. Not committing homicide on your birthday.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Well, not really.”

Keith raises his eyebrows. “You mean…” He gestures vaguely at everything. “This isn’t already my gift?”

Lance shrugs.

“Lance, come on! This is more than enough. It must have taken you weeks to prepare.” He shakes his head, looking at Lance with soft, kind eyes. “You always do so much for me.”

Lance shudders, weak under Keith’s gaze.

“I like to.” He pauses. “I miss you. Always. It — fills the time, to do things for you.”

Keith reaches up and brushes some sand from Lance’s hair. He lingers, after, tracing his fingers along the shell of his ear, resting his hand against Lance’s neck. Lance closes his eyes, leaning into it, letting himself have this affection he’s craved like nothing else for months.

“I miss you, too. Constantly. Sometimes you’re all I think about, up there.” He sighs, and Lance can hear the tired, enticing smile on his face. “Wish you were watching my back again, Sharpshooter. No one else does it quite like you.”

Lance forces his eyes open again, although he can’t bring himself to meet Keith’s eyes. He traces the crooked line of his nose, instead, the tilt of his thick brows.

“You going back tonight?”

“Nah, I’ll stay a couple days. I’ve got nothing pressing for another week.”

“Oh, thank God.”

Tell him. Tell him. Tell him, chants the Allura that lives in his head.

Give me a goddamn second, he snaps back at it.

“Uh, Allura and I have been. Working. On a project.”

Keith tilts his head. “Oh?”

“Yeah, she’s here a lot. Obviously.” He gestures to his Altean marks, which he has just remembered are uncovered. He’s fine — all systems are running and he is a-okay. But his situation was a little different than Shiro’s. A little more Frankenstein. Lance depends on quintessence heavier than anyone else — he’s probably fine to make his own and live his life, but…he’s always struggled with depression. And Allura worries. So she wormholes to Earth regularly to hang out and make sure he’s not too low.

They have a lot of time to scheme, the Blue Paladins of Voltron.

“Obviously,” Keith agrees. Unlike everyone else, he doesn’t avoid looking at his marks; doesn’t wince when he’s reminded of them. The only change in his eyes is a look of determination, a renewed intensity in which he watches Lance. It’s a little bit intoxicating.

“I love Earth,” Lance says quietly. “It will always be my home. I will always want to come back here. I want to die here.” He finally meets Keith’s eyes. “But.”

Keith’s eyes are wide. The hand still resting on the curve of Lance’s neck twitches, slightly.

“But?” he asks, breathless.

“I’ve been helping her organize plans for a castleship. A little smaller than the old one, but — you know. Similar. It’s something to do. I’ll feel better knowing you guys are together, up there, fighting as a team together. There’s the Atlas, but it’s not the same. It’s not Voltron.”

“Oh.” Some of the excitement dims from Keith’s expression, although he takes great care to keep the smile firmly on his face. “That’s great, Lance. I miss the castle too. It’ll be a little more stable, and missions will —”

“And I’m coming with you,” Lance blurts.

Keith freezes.

“To space. Permanently. Um, mostly. I still want to come back to Earth and see my mom and everybody but you know. I miss everybody. I’m lonely. And being a farmer is actually super duper boring. No offense to farmers, but I want to shoot shit again. I even miss training, which is crazy, because I hate training —”

“Lance,” Keith says, and Lance says “Yeah?” and then he’s being pulled forward and Keith’s other hand comes to rest on his hip and he is being kissed.

“Oh,” he breathes, eyes fluttering shut and words fading from his brain. His hands slide into Keith’s hair without his conscious thought, and he tilts his head and lets Keith devour him as the butterflies storm in his stomach and kisses Keith back like he will get all the breath he needs from Keith’s lungs. His head spins and his knees go weak and Keith smells like pine and sandalwood and his lips are chapped and his hands are calloused and it’s the most wonderfully strange mix of foreign and familiar, bexause Lance knows all these things, but he has never known them in this way.

“Finally!” someone shouts, and soon there are wolf whistles and catcalls and Keith’s smile is pressed against his and Lance can feel the press of his crooked incisors against his bottom lip and he could live off the sensation.

“Happy birthday,” he whispers, half-drowned out by the noise of their teasing friends.

“Exactly as I wished it to be,” Keith whispers back, and then kisses him again and again and again.

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alexa-fika · 3 days

Note

Hello there may I request Whitebeard pirates find out about Ace has an older sister (not by blood) can you do their reaction when they saw Ace has a beautiful big sister with two different eye color one deep sapphire blue and a rich lavender color

She has a devil fruit that can make her manipulate silver

Reckless Charmers (Whitbeard pirates x f!reader)

A/N Here we gooo, A whole month after 😂, im slowly putting a dent in my requests yall. I had a hard time deciding where to take this, and in my first draft I thought I had it but I realize I djn’t have either silver nor heterochromia so , major fail 😂

Reader here is replaced by dokucha which stands for reader in japaness

Dividers by @/Saradika

“Ace, how much longer till we get there?” She yells over the roaring of the striker, glancing behind her towards the man powering the boat

“We’re almost there; I see the Moby. It should be just a few minutes now.”

“You did tell them I was coming, right?” She questioned

“Well….”

“Ace..”

“Do they even know you have a sister?”

“Well, it didn’t really come up?”

“Ace!”

“Hahahahaha! Don’t worry so much they will love you.”

She sighs, turning her attention to the landscape in front of them

“You’re unbelievable, Ace.”

“Yeah, Yeah, we’re here.”

“Race you to the top?” She said with a grin

“Really? We’re not kids anymore Dokucha”

“Aw- Hey! You damn cheater!” She hollered after he jumped towards the galleon, quickly transforming her neck into a silver lance and using it to impulse herself after him

She scowls at him as they land on the deck of the galleon

“You litt-

“Ace, you’re back,” a voice cut in

“And you brought someone with you-yoi,” he states, glancing at the woman questioningly, throwing a disapproving glance to Ace

“W-Wait, it’s not what you think! This is my sister, Dokucha!”

He hums, glancing at the woman beside him

“Hi, I hope I am not intruding” she stated, giving the commander a small bow

“No, not at all, Ma’am. Make yourself at home,” he said, throwing her a smile

“Thank you, Sir; I appreciate your kindness.”

“Ah, no need for formalities, just call me Marco; hey Ace, you should bring her around more often-yoi,”

“Hmm? Why’s that?”

“You can learn a thing or two from her, maybe how to be a little bit more civil-yoi.”

“W-What’s that supposed to mean?!” He scowls

“Hey Ace, who’s the beauty you brought?” Thatch questioned, walking towards the trio

“This is my Sister, Dokucha”

“Well, Golly, ma’am, do excuse my honesty, but you look sweeter than a cherry pie,” he drawled, giving her a smile

“You have wonderful eyes, my; I could just lose myself in them, don’t see a pair like yours every day.”

She flushed at his words, giving him a small smile

“Charmer, aren’t you?”

“I can see where the good genes went to.” he quipped back

“We’re not related by blood; also, go to hell, thatch.”

“You want to go at it, firecracker?”

And just like that, Dokucha found herself sitting next to Marco as the two commanders went at it, the crew slowly gathering around them and cheering them on

“Is it always like this?” She asked, sipping on a drink provided by one of the members as she glanced at Marco

“Usually takes more jabbing to make them go at it, but it does end up like this at the end of the day,” he said, watching the two go at it

“He is right; you do have wonderful eyes; I‘ve never quite seen such a case of heterochromia-yoi.”

She throws him a grin

“Thank you”

“I saw you making a lance when you came into the boat, are you a devil fruit user-yoi?”

“I am; I didn’t quite make a lance more so than I changed it into a lance.”

“How so?”

“I’ve got myself the gin-gin no mi; essentially, I can control and become silver; I always carry around silver jewelry so I can change into a weapon when necessary.”

“Ah, a logia?”

“That’s right; Ace, Sabo, and I are all logias; Luffy is the odd one out with his zoan fruit; you have one as well, don’t you? A Zoan-type”

“That’s right; how could you tell-yoi?”

“You ha-

Her words are cut off as a blade headed her way, which she simply avoided by moving slightly; glancing at the blade, she noticed how the wood began burning under the blazing blade; she followed the trajectory to the two men who had stopped their brawl to look at the damage they had caused

“Shit, Thatch, that’s our cue to get out of here,” Ace curses pulling his friend away

“Hah? Why?”

“Listen, man, you don’t want to find out what happens next.”

She gives them a tight smile, rapidly transforming her jewelry into a staff

“Marco,” she called

He hummed in response, curious at the sudden shift in attitude

“You are the vice-captain, correct?”

“I am”

“Then I formally request permission to show these two a lesson.”

“Approved-yoi,” he said with a grin, leaning his head against the palm of his hand

“Marco, you damn traitor, Thatch run!”

“Where are you going, little brother?” She said, approaching the two

Yall I had to being out southern Thatch out, this was the perfect chance, I just had to have a flirty Thatch, we need it

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

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callmelyc · 5 months

Text

Angsty post canon concept:

When Allura dies what if the Altean magic she used on Shiro and Lance weakens and that's how ppl find out Lance also died?

Both Lance and Shiro start with symptoms they can ignore and ones doctors brush aside. They get told it's fatigue, they get told it's after effects from fighting In the war like they had for all that time. Neither realize it all starts after Alluras death.

Then they end up with things unexplainable. Things like extreme full body tremors, sudden extreme chills and are icy cold to the touch no matter the temperature. Their bodies ache in the ways they had in their deaths but neither man admits it out loud too afraid of what that might mean so neither is aware they aren't alone is this bizarre and sudden turn of events.

It's not until Lance collapses and is rushed to the Garrison hospital that they discovered it something more.

His body deteriorating from the inside out seen visibly from their newest high tech scans. Rotting, closing down, slowing or lacking proper function like his body has given up. Like his body is referring backwards to lack of life but no one knows why.

It's almost like its frying itself from the inside out, it's path crawling closer and closer to his heart with every passing day like bolts of electricity pulsing more and more upward.

Shiro is the first to realize what it means once Lance is finally giving the symptoms they'd had to pry out of him. He realizes with dread that his fellow paladin has things that match up too close to his own.

He only realizes bc he's felt similar things, only his resemble his own death and he knows for a fact its thinfs in Excruciating pain, a pain he thought no one but himself would ever understand.

To get lance to admit what happened Shiro goes through the scans himself to prove his point. No one enjoys hearing Lances story, Allura hadn't even known she was capable of what she'd done to him So he's worse off than Shiro is and terrified of the idea of dying again this slowly

both get taken to an off planet hospital, one that could preserve their symptoms until the rest of their team and families could find a way to heal them

But without Alluras alchemy No one knew what to do.

First they try talking to the alteans on new altea but none have any knowledge of the alchemy allura had used for them

Then the team spreads out

Pidge uses her ranking in her field to gain any and all database information she can get her hands on

Hunk uses his connections To the Balmera and other species to attempt to find any information on healing abilities that might help

Keith is the most successful, the man he loves and his brother are dying and he wouldn't accept that one bit

He sends all the Blades willing to look for any possible Leads and anyone who might know anything about healing magic or alchemy

Keith is the one who comes across one of haggars old druids, one well versed in altean alchemy and one bitter at what had become of the craft

She had understood, to a degree, what Allura had done to Save both men

She had tied their life force to her own to ground them back to this plane of existence and now that she's no longer tied to one universe her connection has faded and so has theirs

"You must tie them to another life to keep them but this practice is taboo. If this next life dies they will with it."

Keith doesn't hesitate for a moment "just tell me what to do and I'll do it."

He ends up tying Lances life force to his own, Lance so sickly he didn't get a choice and Keith apologizes the entire way

He combs fingers through lances thinned hair hoping it brought any comfort to the man that had no energy to even stay awake anymore "you can be as angry as you want after this, as long as you survive I don't care anymore..."

Shiros husband does the same for Shiro

They know it's worked when their bodies stop dying and start to finally try to heal.

The damage so extensive they both spend months in newly crafted healing pods that do everything to try to reverse it.

Both come out whole, alive and maybe a little worse for wear than before All this took place.

But no one cares so long as they stay alive.

And, if when Keith tells lance what he'd done to save him, Keith earns a strict slap to the face for his recklessness that's followed by a gentle kiss.

Well, no one says a word.

#voltron #lance vld #vld #vld lance #lance mcclain #keith kogane #klance #keith x lance #keith voltron #shiro vld #i put this concept on Twitter and rhey were frothing at the mouth over it #this will be turned into a full fic so stay tuned

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russellsppttemplates · 7 months

Text

I'm here for you (Lance Stroll)

When you finally let Lance help you, you quickly find out that doing things with his support makes them just that little bit better

Note: english is not my first language. I'm not a doctor, so there are probably some inaccurate informations here, but this is what I know both from reading and from experience. Everyone has different experiences and I wanted to be able to depict that in some way.

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions periods, blood, medical appointments, endometriosis, (in)fertility

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"How bad is it?", Lance asked you as you both laid down on the bed, "like a 7, but hopefully the meds will kick in soon", you mumbled, finding a comfortable position in your boyfriend's embrace. "Wake me up if you need anything, okay? I don't want you to be uncomfortable when I can help with something", he said, kissing the top of your head and cuddling you in.

Your period had been acting up again, and while you usually knew what to do and when, this time around all of the tricks you knew seemed lack the hability to soothe you, so to say you were feeling less than fine was an understatement.

Sleeping usually helped, but soon enough you ended up being woken up by a particular sharp pain on your lower belly and lower back, and despite his insistence, you tried your best to get up from the bed to grab something to relieve the pain without making too much noise, not wanting to wake Lance up. Your efforts seemed small, though, because as soon as you got up, It didn't take your boyfriend long before his hand palmed the area where you had been asleep on, "Y/N?", he called, "I just wanted to get something to ease the pain, go back to sleep, love", you whispered, seeing him get up instead.

"I'll get the machine, you just rest, okay?", he said in a both stern and soft way, making you lie back on the bed as he looked for the TENS machine. In one of your appointments, your doctor mentioned that if you had the possibility and the means, you could try the machine as it would help you deal with the pain, and so far it had helped you a great deal.

"Here, sweetheart", Lance helped you with your top and shorts, placing the small circles on either side of your tummy, "is that good?", he said as he regulated the level on the machine, "it's not doing much, if I'm honest", you whimpered, feeling bad because of how much effort your boyfriend was putting in hopes of making you feel better and how little it was working.

"Come here", he nudged you, cuddling you closer to him as his hands traced shapes on yout tummy, "does this hurt?", he asked, "no, you're okay", you mumbled, trying to distract yourself from the intense cramps, "thank you for being here", you kissed the skin near his clavicle, "I'll be here for you, always".

You were in and out of sleep for the whole night, seeing the light seep through the windows slowly as the cramps kept getting stronger again, keeping you up for most of the time.

"Hey you", Lance mumbled, "how are you feeling?", he asked, "I think they're a little bit softer now, or maybe I've become numb to them", you huffed, trying to find a better position when you felt the need to use the toilet, "I'll be back", you said, walking slowly to the bathroom.

The uncomfortable feeling in your underwear was justified by the amount of period blood that had been way heavier than usual this time around, taking you a while to clean up before going back to the bedroom and change your bottoms.

"Did any of it get in the bedding?", you asked Lance, seeing he was already up and looking for something, too, "no, I noticed when you got up and looked for any spots, but the bed is fine", he smiled sadly, "I was thinking we should call your doctor and tell her about this? I've seen really rough cycles you've had and none of them compare to this", Lance reasoned. You had been together for nearly four years and he never saw you in this much pain and discomfort, and adding the fact that you had a good pain threshold, it was concerning him even more.

"I'll send her a text to see if she thinks I need to go somewhere, or at least give me something, and maybe this will help the diagnosis", you mumbled, grabbing your phone and writing a small description of how you had been feeling.

The last set of exams you had got done were already because of some suspicions your doctor had because of how intense your cycles usually were and this may very well be another situation to help you get closer to understanding how your body was working.

"While we wait, I'm going to get us breakfast, okay? I know food is the last thing on your mind, but you'll need to eat", he nodded, kissing your forehead before going downstairs to prepare the food.

You were reading the text your doctor sent you back when Lance entered the room, a tray with tea and toast on it, "she texted me back", you began, "she says that these are all common symptoms and that there isn't much I can do, but that she can get me an appointment for tomorrow because this helps put things into perspective", you shrugged, setting your phone on your bedside table, "I'll go with you", Lance said, helping you sit up so you could eat, "I would usually say that I don't need it, that I can go on my own, but it's not like you would let me anyway, am I right?", you smiled, "but I will actually say that I'm thankful for that and that I love you very much. I'm very lucky to have you with me", you smiled honestly for the first time in a while, "I love you, too, sweetheart".

When the next morning rolled around, Lance drove you both to the appointment, his hand resting where your leg met your hip and rubbing circles. After checking in and grabbing your card so you could go to the lab and let them collect the samples they needed, you went back to the waiting area, Lance sitting in one of the sofas. "Was it okay?", he asked, "yes, the nurse just had to get a blood sample so the doctor can check if everything is fine with that, the scan os inside her office from what she told me", you replied. Just on time like the appointment was scheduled, your name was called and you both got up, Lance lacing his fingers in yours and squeezing it as you entered the office. Greeting you both, your doctor asked you to sit down, "Hello Y/N, Hi Lance, please take a seat", she said, "it seems your pain hasn't been getting any better", she added, letting you carry on.

"I've been managing it just fine like I told you in the last appointment, but this month it was unbearable, I don't think it ever got this bad. Especially around my lower back and lower tummy, definitely never felt like this", you explained.

"I'm just opening your lab results here on the computer", she said, "you remember the possibilities we talked about in our last appointment, and I think we have enough results here that would suggest one of them, which is endometriosis, so I'd like to do another scan to see if there is support to that hypothesis", she nodded to the table.

You set your bag on the chair you were sitting in, moving to lay on your back and lift your shirt up so she could place the gel on your skin, "it's cold, I'm sorry", she smiled apologetically as she grabbed the wand, looking at the screen and frowning. You had been her patient long enough to know her enough to gather that it wasn't good news. Question was: was it bad news because it supported the diagnosis or was it bad because you were back to square one with no idea about what symptoms to look for?

"Do you see these parts here? This is all endometrial tissue that's grown outside of your uterus, which is here", she pointed to the screen, "because you're about on the last day of your period, so your flow is smaller now", she checked and you nodded, "so this, like we spoke about, can be the cause of your symptoms, why you feel so much pain, why your cycles tend to be on the heavier side, also the tiredness, the nausea", the doctor added, now turning to Lance so he could also be involved in her explanation.

After cleaning you up, you sat back in the chair next to Lance, feeling his hand land on your thigh as your doctor typed the results on the computer, "having said this, I'm recommending you a few specialists in this area, so you'll have specific, specialised and personalised care", she offered, "I know this can be a scary moment, but I also want you to see the side where you're finally aware of what is happening in your body and now look for the answers that target it".

"Was there anything that could've prevented this? Are we doing something wrong?", Lance asked, "no, this isn't something you can prevent. Usually, endometriosis is hereditary, and since Y/N mentioned her aunt had some issues getting pregnant and her mother also showed these symptoms, it is most likely that is is genetics", she enlightened, seeing you nod as you squeezed Lance's hand back.

After she went over a few more tricks for your pain management, you and Lance thanked her and walked out to the car, getting inside and fastening your seat belts. "Are you okay, darling?", Lance wondered, not being able to read your expression, which wasn't usual.

"It may sound weird, but I think I've been expecting this. Like, I knew what I had wasn't normal, and after talking to my mother and my aunt, it started to make sense. And then I read things on Google, which I know it's not the best thing, but I did it carefully", you began, "so I was expecting it, I guess. Me and Dr. Marlin have been discussing the possibility, so it wasn't a shock. She was very direct because that's how it has always been and I appreciate her for it", you noted.

"I have to admit she was a bit forward", Lance chuckled lightly, his hand grabbing yours, "but it makes sense now. I want you to know, though, that I'll be here for everything that I can, I want to support you as much as possible", he added.

"It's still something to process, and it's only for sure whenever I go to the next appointments, so I'll just take it in", you answered honestly, smiling at Lance before kissing him, "thank you for always being here".

When you arrived home, you felt your body get even more tired as you changed into comfortable clothes, sensing that as soon as your head hit anything resembling a pillow or a mattress you would fall asleep.

While you slept on the big sofa, Lance was on his phone looking up the best specialists in the area, typing the phone number and email as well as their name in his notes app so you could both discuss it later once you woke up. Even though Dr. Marlin explained a few things about what her suspicions were and you had also told him about them from previous appointments, Lance had to admit he wasn't well-versed in the topic beyond what you had told him, so he did what he thought was best and looked it up on the Internet. Mindful of the websites he was reading, he came across a few ones that seemed legit and that had a simple language and didn't sound too alarming and rather only just wanting to spread knowledge about the topic. They all mentioned your symptoms, gave a brief explanation of what it was and the implications did catch his eye, smoothing his finger over the screen as he locked his phone, hearing you stir in the middle of your sleep.

"Hey, bub", you said, approaching him and craddling his arm, "are you feeling better?", he asked, pressing his lips on the top of your head, seeing you nod.

"I was looking up specialists, and I have a few contacts here, I made a little list", he began, "and I know we should've done this together, but I couldn't help myself, and I was looking up a bit more information because I didn't know about it", he scrambled out, "I was not taught this, I don't think anyone is, but I looked it up, and- yeah, there are doctors for these kinds of things and they seem to know what helps and what to do".

He looked so nervous that you felt you were the one to calm him down and reassure him, "hey, one thing at a time, yes?", you urged, grabbing his hand in yours in an attempt of calming him, "thank you for looking them up, I'll see the list and the ones that fit the situation best", you said.

"Fortunately, we have the means to do this and seek help to make you feel better, for all the options we have", your boyfriend continued, "I sort of fell in the spiral of what it would mean and I want to be with you every step of the way".

"As much as I think this is too much, I can't help but be grateful that we can do it, so I'll let you have this one", you smirked, "and like you said, we'll take it one step at a time".

#lance stroll imagine #lance stroll fanfic #lance stroll fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #lance stroll x reader

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