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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

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Keith doesn’t leave his apartment a lot.

Despite all of Shiro’s urging, Keith tends to stay home. His apartment is really nice, once he gets over the occasional mouse and entirely broken heating. Plus, the water is mostly potable, so it’s all good.

Look. It’s $500 a month.

But, y’know. Every once in a while Keith actually can’t study over the sounds of his neighbours having extremely loud and largely disturbing sex — why on Earth would cheetos ever be mentioned in regards to anyone’s hole is something Keith wish remained a mystery to him — so he makes his way down to the campus library. It’s admittedly kind of nice down there. He’s currently sitting at a table that’s decently clean, and the wifi connection is certainly better than it is at home. He’s actually able to get some stuff done —

“Motherfucker!”

Keith jumps out of his skin as the hottie a couple seats in front of him slams his hands on the table. Hottie whips his head up, catching Keith’s eye. His hair is wildly curly, sticking up off his head so intensely that it almost defies gravity. His eyes are big and brown and a little crazed. His expression can only be described as ‘intense’, or perhaps ‘unstable’.

“You,” he snarls.

Keith points at himself with wide eyes.

“Have you ever heard of a mountain chicken,” Hottie says, still staring at Keith with the same crazed intensity.

“Please don’t hurt me,” Keith squeaks. Hottie may be one of the most attractive people he has ever seen, but Keith has learned his lesson about pretty people. They tend to be the most dangerous and likely to maim (looking at you, Allura).

Hottie stalks towards Keith’s table, deliberately placing his hands on the surface and leaning very, very close.

“Have you ever heard,” he says again, voice very low, “of a mountain chicken.”

“No,” Keith says, because he hasn’t and he’s a little (a lot) intimidated.

And attracted.

There’s admittedly a lot of attraction there.

Suddenly the crazed air shifts from Hottie’s face, but the intensity remains.

“Whaddaya think it looks like?”

He sounds almost curious. Almost.

Keith blinks. “Like a really big chicken?”

The crazed looks is back as soon as it left.

“That’s what I thought, but it’s this mother fucker!” Hottie yells, reaching over to grab his laptop and slam it in front of Keith. It’s open to a picture of a strange little frog.

Keith squints at the picture.

“…Huh,” he says, because that is strange, and he can kind of understand why Hottie is going a little nutty about it.

“Exactly,” Hottie says emphatically. “Fuckin’ taxonomists.”

Keith raises an amused eyebrow. “You sound like you have beef with taxonomists. I’ve never known anyone who has a personally problem with them before.”

“Okay, listen,” Hottie says, pulling out a chair and sitting down properly. “They’re really bad at their jobs. All of ‘em. Why are watermelons berries? No. That’s bullshit. And you know who’s fault it is? Taxonomists.”

Keith bursts out laughing. “I see,” he manages between wheezes.

Hottie sniffs. “I’m allowing your laughter because you’re stupid hot.”

“Are you.”

“Mhm. Also, because I couldn’t stop you if I wanted to. I’m about three seconds away from passing out.”

Hottie says it pleasantly, but not in the way that sounds like he’s joking, which sobers Keith up quickly.

“Wait, what —”

The words don’t even leave his mouth before Hottie’s eyes roll back into his head and his forehead smacks the table.

———

“Thank you, again,” the man says.

Keith shoots him a small smile. “It’s really not a problem.”

The man — who Keith has learnt is named Hunk, and is the best friend of the aforementioned Hottie, who’s name is apparently Lance — sighs. “It kind of is. He’s — I would like to say that this is not a regular occurrence. But he’s fuckin’ allergic to a proper sleep schedule. And peanuts. But the sleeping thing is a bigger issue. He’s given himself four concussions because he’s passed out mid-sentence and brained himself on a random surface hard enough to make an impact on his thick fucking skull.”

Hunk is clearly exasperated, and annoyed, but his words are so fond that Keith can’t help the smile that pulls across his face. He sounds just like Shiro, after Keith has managed to land himself squarely into one of his many Shenanigans. Loving and also five seconds away from throttling you.

It’s nice.

“You his brother?”

Hunk snorts, readjusting Lance’s floppy arm over his shoulder. Keith does the same, hefting him up — he’s surprisingly heavy for someone who’s about as thick as a toothbrush, but what does Keith know — and keeping on in the direction of the off-campus apartments. (The decently nice ones, that you can only afford with at least two roommates and a part-time job. Keith knows. He checked.)

“Nah, not really. I mean, I’m basically his brother in that he’s the annoyance who’s been latched on to my person for the last several years and who I love too much to murder, but you know. He has enough siblings without me thrown into the mix. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” Keith says. “You remind me of me and my brother, is all. He’s also the one who’s usually dragging my dumb ass to safety.”

Laughing, Hunk digs his key out of his pocket, opening up the door.

“I see.”

He struggles for a moment, trying to both keep Lance from falling — who is firmly unconscious, although Hunk has assured him that he’s not injured and it’s just been six days since he last slept and he’s just kind of Like This — and get the door open.

Keith isn’t sure how to help, so he just kind of stands there awkwardly, still holding half of Lance’s weight.

“Thank you,” Hunk says, once Lance has been transferred to his arms and he’s standing just inside the doors to their apartment complex. “I appreciate your help.”

“No problem.”

Keith forces himself to take a step back, shoving the random wistfulness deep down in his gut.

He’s not lonely. He’s not.

(He does kind of miss his brother, though. Ugh.)

“I’ll see you around, Keith.”

“Yeah. You, too.”

Keith stands there for a full ten seconds after Hunk turns around and heads down the hallway, and then he shakes himself, blushing, before speedwalking back to his own shitty apartment.

God, he needs a fucking hobby.

———

“What do you mean, I can’t get eight shots of espresso? It’s not like it’ll kill me. You need 76 shots to kill you. I checked.”

“Sir…it’s company policy. I’m not allowed to put more than eight shots in one cup. Sorry.”

“No, no, don’t apologise. It’s not your fault. Hm.” The man — who is he kidding, Keith recognised Lance as soon as he saw that poofy hair in the Starbucks line, as embarrassing as it is — rocks back on his heels, tapping a finger to his chin. “Can I order two drinks, with eight shots each?”

Jesus Christ.

The barista blinks at him. “I mean, I guess so. I think you’re going to die, but that’s not my problem, I guess.”

Lance laughs, and the sound is so bright and musical that it actually makes Keith sigh.

Like, out loud.

Jesus fucking Christ.

“That works! Let’s do that.”

“…If you’re sure. That’ll be $7.29.”

Lance pays, then heads over to the other end of the counter, humming as he waits. As soon as his eyes land on Keith, they narrow.

“Hey, wait a minute. I know you. Obviously. I would never forget a face so flawlessly beautiful. Why do I know you?”

Keith goes so red he can actually feel his heart pounding through the capillaries under his skin, which is humiliating.

“Um.”

Lance giggles, which makes the blush worse.

Oh, God, Keith is losing any and all game he possesses by the minute. Fuck, isn’t he usually good at this? He usually is! He’s usually a pretty decent flirt! What the fuck!

“Oh!” Lance says, snapping his fingers. “You’re the hot guy from the library! The one who called Hunk when I passed out! Keith, right?”

Keith can only nod. Holy shit, the force of those brown doe eyes at full intensity on his face is going to fry his brain.

He clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. I’m Keith. You — obviously, you knew that.” Keith resists the urge to slam his head through the nearest wall.

Lance giggles again. Keith wonders if the fuckin’ sweat is actually dripping from his palms, or it just feels like it is.

Gross.

“You’re cute. You should take me on a date. I have class until five, room A112 in the biology building. Pick me up, and we’ll go to dinner?”

Keith can only nod. Frantically. So quickly his hair escapes from his ponytail and smacks him in the face.

“Great,” Lance says, grinning. He grabs Keith hand — Keith offers absolutely no resistance and only prays that his palms aren’t actually as disgusting as he thinks they are — and takes out a pen, scrawling down a number and then drawing a big heart around it.

Lord above, Lance is the cutest boy Keith has ever seen in his entire life. He’s going to explode.

“That’s my number,” Lance says, and he’s still holding onto Keith’s forearm.

His fingers are freezing, and that’s the only rational thought Keith’s brain manages to form.

“2 coffees with more caffeine than I’ve ever seen one person consume?” the barista calls. She looks at them warily.

“Coming!” Lance chirps, and Keith mourns the loss of those cold fingers on his skin as Lance steps over to grab his coffee.

(Well. ‘Coffee’.)

Lance skips to the doors, pausing to smile and wiggle his fingers in a wave. “I’ll see you after class, okay, Keith?”

“See you,” Keith says, and his voice cracks so many times that the barista winces on his behalf.

Lance grins wider, then disappears out the door.

“That was the most romcom shit I’ve ever seen,” the barista informs him bluntly, and Keith can only nod.

———

Keith is buzzing out of his skin, he thinks.

So he does what he always does when he’s feeling Big Boy Feelings™️.

He bothers his brother.

to: takashit

shiro oh my god it’s almost five his class is almost done what do i do.

to: takashit

what if he was joking? it didn’t seem like a joke. but what if?

to: takashit

fuck, what if i screw it up? what if i’m a lame loser who says lame loser things? oh my god i’m so nervous

to: takashit

OH MY GOD SHIRO WHAT IF I YARF

to: keith kardashian

KEITH MOTHERFUCKING YORAK KOGANE. SHUT THE FUCK UP. I AM BUSY.

to: takashit

🥺🥺🥺 worst brother ever

to: takashit

🥺🥺 you don’t love me. you don’t care about me or my anxiety 💔

Keith can actually hear his brother’s guilt complex acting up through the phone.

It’s hilarious.

to: keith kardashian

the worst part about that is i know you’re manipulating me.

to: takashit

😔 😔

to: takashit

⬆️ my face rn as i realise my brother whom i look up to and adore wishes he left me on the street corner where i was standing 😔😔😔

to: keith kardashian

i should have, you little motherfucker.

There’s a solid minute of angry typing before Shiro continues.

to: keith kardashian

fuck you. call me.

Keith does. Shiro picks up immediately.

“You are a rat bastard,” he growls.

Keith pretends to sniffle, fully fighting back a laugh.

“I just thought you promised to always be there for me,” he says, as pitifully as he can manage.

Shiro makes a vague screaming noise.

“Fuck! Fine. Fuck. Tell me why you’re nervous.”

“It’s a cute boy with a lot of confidence and social grace, Shiro! Fucking obviously I’m nervous!”

“Didn’t y’all meet because he yelled at you about taxonomists and then brained himself on a library table when he passed out from sleep deprivation?”

“…Yeah.”

“That doesn’t sound very socially graceful to me.”

“Okay, fair, but he asked me out this morning like it was the smoothest thing ever. I blushed so hard I thought my heart was going to explode. I swear to God my voice cracked at least twelve times.”

Shiro sniggers. “It does that all the time, so no big thing there.”

“Fuck off,” Keith says, scowling, because hey. Being the shithead is Keith’s job.

“Anyway, you big nerd,” Shiro continues, “you’re going to be fine. In five minutes this ridiculously confident cute boy is going to waltz out of class and then you two are going to go on what’s probably the cringiest date of all time, but he will be charmed by your earnest nature and geek tendencies, and then you’ll get married and adopt every dog in the world. Okay?”

Honestly, yeah. Okay. That did make him feel better.

But Keith is the younger brother, and as such is contractually obligated to be a pain in the ass, so.

“Yeah, yeah. At least I didn’t trip and, in a desperate attempt to not land face-first on the pavement, pants my future husband.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Shiro says venomously, as is par for the course when Keith brings up his and Adam’s disastrous first meeting.

Keith smirks to himself.

“My bad.”

“Ugh. You’re so annoying. Do you feel better now, you stupid dweeb?”

Keith started feeling better the second he started pestering Shiro, but he supposes he can be grateful for a change.

“Yeah. I guess your dorky pep talk helped. I can’t do any worse than you did, anyway.”

“I’m hanging up and blocking your number. Goodbye.”

Keith snickers as the call drops. It’s 4:59, and Lance still has another minute of class.

to: takashit

you didn’t say u love me :(((

to: takashit

u just hung up without any care in the world :((

to: takashit

i’m telling adam he’s my new favourite brother now

to: takashit

adam would never hang up without saying i love you

to: keith kardashian

oh my GOD

to: takashit

:(((((((((

to: keith kardashian

fine. fuck.

to: keith kardashian

i love you, you booger. tell me how your stupid date goes.

to: takashit

Keith puts his phone away, grinning, and the second he does, the door to room A112 pushes open and students start spilling out. He waits, scanning everyone as they pass, but there’s no sign of Lance until the very last person walks out.

He beams when he sees Keith leaning on the wall.

“Keith! Hi!”

Keith grins back.

“Hi, Lance.”

“Ready to go on a date?” Lance says, strolling up and tangling his free hand in Keith’s, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

It might be.

“Yeah. I’m excited, really.”

“Awesome! Did you pick a place?”

Keith was a little stressed about that, to be real, because he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to pick somewhere or if Lance already had something picked.

The he remembered he had Hunk’s number “in case my dumbass best friend passed out in your vicinity again, because neither of us can afford an ambulance in this economy”, so he texted him in what could not be technically called a panic.

Maybe a light anxiety.

Hunk had sent back several laughing emojis, and then told him to take Lance for an ice cream dinner and then to the park on campus for him to get very excited about beetles.

“I figured I’d take you to Coran’s ice cream parlour,” Keith says. “You seem like an ice cream guy.”

Lance lights up, and then narrows his eyes in playful suspicion. “You asked Hunk, huh?”

Keith shrugs, cheeks warming. “I’ll be honest with you. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the library incident, and you’re so pretty you kind of make my brain go mushy. I panicked.”

Shockingly, that makes Lance’s jaw drop. He’s quiet for several moments, before his ears go read and he looks away.

Holy shit. Did Keith make Lance all blushy?

“Point to Keith,” Lance says eventually.

Keith laughs, scratching the back of his neck with one hand. The other is still firmly clamped in Lance’s. “Didn’t know it was a competition.”

Lance winks. “Everything’s a competition with me.”

———

Ice cream is fun. Keith shouldn’t be eating it, not really, and there will be Consequences with his digestive system later, but he’s not afraid of hell and mint chip is delicious.

“You are eating frozen toothpaste.”

“I can only assume that you’ve never tried mint chip or you’ve never brushed your teeth, Lance, because mint chip does not taste like toothpaste. It’s delicious. Besides, you are having cotton candy. That’s essentially frozen blue food colouring! Besides, what flavour is cotton candy even supposed to be? Like, what does cotton candy taste like?”

Turns out that Keith had no reason to be nervous. He and Lance just… click. And, besides, Lance thinks Keith is funny when he’s not trying, which is excellent.

They go to the park, just as Hunk suggested, after they finish their ice cream. They spend the whole time just chatting, talking about nothing and everything, interspersed with Lance’s regular mini-lectures whenever he spots something particularly cool. Which is a lot of things, because Lance seems to be endlessly fascinated with the world at large.

It’s adorable. And also enlightening. Did you know one tree can be home to over 2.3 million life forms at one time? Keith didn’t. That’s dope as hell.

“…and oh, hey, an incipient hornet nest! Cool! Did you know wasp larvae can spin silk?”

Keith did not know that. He is also not fond of wasps, nor has he ever felt any sort of inclination to be near them. But he is becoming increasingly fond of Lance. Also, Lance seems to be some sort of animal whisperer. They’d been swarmed by yellowjackets outside of the ice cream parlour, but before Keith could even panic Lance had stood very still and said “no” in a firm, calm voice, and they all flew away immediately.

It did make Lance hotter, truly.

“I did not,” Keith says magnanimously, peering over Lance’s shoulder to look at the nest. Luckily, it’s empty. “That is pretty cool, though.”

Lance turns back to him and grins; a big, beaming smile that makes him glow.

God, he’s beautiful.

Keith can’t stop staring at him.

“You should kiss me,” Lance says bluntly, after a moment of them just softly looking at each other.

Keith blinks. “Okay.”

He lets go of Lance’s hand, reaching over to cup his face. He stays there for a moment, gently cradling Lance’s face in his arms, stroking his thumbs over sharp cheekbones, cataloguing the splash of freckles on his nose and the curve of his cupid’s bow.

Lance reaches up, after a few seconds, sliding careful fingers across the skin of Keith’s neck to tangle in his hair. He doesn’t pull, just — holds it, carefully.

“You going to kiss me now?”

Keith swallows. “I’m nervous. I don’t want to mess it up.”

Lance’s eyes flutter shut, and he sighs. “You don’t need to be. I want — I really want you to kiss me. I like you.”

“I like you too.”

“Okay.”

And that’s all it takes. The ‘okay’, breathy and quick and soft and maybe a little nervous, too, like for all his straightforward brazenness Lance is a little scared of messing this up as well.

He leans forward, faster than he thought he would, and presses his lips to Lance’s. The air is warm but Lance’s lips are still chilly from the ice cream, and his cheeks are hot beneath Keith’s hands, blushing. His lips curve into a smile that’s pressed firmly to Keith’s mirroring grin and he sighs again, a little, a happy sound, and tilts his head so their mouths fit together even better. And then his fingers are tracing little circles at the back of Keith’s neck and he makes a little humming noise on the back of his throat and Keith leans the tiniest little bit closer.

It’s good. It’s great.

It’s everything, really, and Keith doesn’t want it to end.

“You’re a good kisser,” Lance mumbles, not moving away even an inch.

“I like kissing you,” Keith says, pressing just as close.

Keith doesn’t remember why he was nervous.

———

to: keith kardashian

how did it go????

to: takashit

i beat your mess by a mile

to: keith kardashian

low bar, boogerbrain. also, shut up.

to: takashit

no :)

to: takashit

but it went REALLY well. we went for ice cream and then walked around the park for hours and then we kissed and he is so fucking cute, shiro. oh my god. seriously.

to: keith kardashian

good, kiddo. really. are y’all gonna go out again?

to: takashit

yeah

to: takashit

tomorrow night actually

to: keith kardashian

that’s awesome! i have a really good feeling about you guys.

to: takashit

…

to: takashit

me too :)

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deldeldel90 · 2 months

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This post is so BLAINE.

#ray-of-sunshine coded character is lance ofc #and blaine!!!#He IS THE SUN!!!!! (im the worst most destructive way possible)#cursed Princess Club #cpc blaine

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botanicallyinclinednerd · 17 days

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Sara and Mick helping Ray, RAY, steal one of the queen's corgi's all without him realizing that Sara is even there and thinking that Mick's just super smart and Ray's just super lucky is so fucking funny.

#again this is RAY #little ball of positivity sunshine and always doing the right thing #its so funny him pretending to be a criminal punk #also knowing the whole neron plot later this season its so funny that they choose ray for this shit #liv talks #liv watches shit #legends of tomorrow #ray palmer #mick rory #sara lance #4x03

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pagesofkenna · 2 years

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@islandoforder was stuck waiting for the bus in the rain today so I decided to write her an episode of Teen Wolf (a show ive never seen)

#long post alert #i completely skipped over the bit where you tried to tell me scott is a ray of sunshine #and continued to characterize him as a traditional teen jock stereotype lolol #i actually remember that candy really likes scott and i remember being confused because the rest of the fandom rarely talks about him lol #also i know stiles is like a fandom fave and from everything i know he deserves it bc he would be my fave dude too #calling him the lance-type like i am Read

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just-a-madderslife · 2 years

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Hunk :)

Lance : DON'T say it

Hunk : I haven't said anything :)

Lance : You were going to say "I told you so"

Hunk : I would NEVER!

Hunk : but it is true ,if you Had Listened to what i said,we wouldn't be in this situation right now—

#vld #lance #hunk #hunk is a ray of sunshine #but he is also a petty bitch with a very good memory #hunk: remember the time you were moaning about keith and i told you had a crush on him #remember when you said that you never be into someone with a greasy mullet #lance : Hunk this is my wedding #hunk: and payback's a bitch

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delulujuls · 6 months

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navy fury | mv33

im a redbull stan and max's girlie till i die (but my heart is papaya shaped) so please enjoy this one as well!

summary: max is struggling with asking for help, reader is trying her best to let him know that she always got his back

warnings: negative emotions, angst, max struggling with his demons, jos verstappen (he is the biggest warning lol)

pairing: max verstappen x fem!mclarendriver

Max would often get angry.

More often than he would like it to be. More often than he would want a consuming wave of anger to wash over him, for fury to engulf him and inject its burning venom into his veins. He would get angry over trivial things, get angry over bigger issues either. Anger would truly eat him up every time something didn't go as planned.

However, he tried to fight with his anger and negative emotions at all costs. Instead of processing them, letting go and moving on, he would bottle them up, allowing them to fester and poison his entire being. He preferred to get angry in solitude, where he knew nothing wrong would happen and even if it did, he would be the only one harmed.

Unfortunately, Max found a kind of satisfaction and comfort in hurting others. Emotions dissipated much faster when he could engage in an argument with someone rather than sitting in silence with only his own screams shattering his head.

If Max could have any control over himself and his emotions, he would unplug the anger outburst responsible for explosions of anger like this one.

He didn't hear the insults that left his mouth, didn't hear Christian's shouts telling him to calm down. He didn't feel the strong arms of the mechanics holding him back and pulling him away from Lance Stroll, who sat on the ground with a bleeding nose. In moments like this, Max was guided by nothing but emotions, desperately trying to find any way out.

In moments like this Max knew that to feel relief he had to destroy something. It didn't matter if it was a glass, his shattered fists or the bleeding nose of that Aston Martin dickhead who ruined his entire race.

Many people in his immediate surroundings distinguished the Dutchman before the anger storm and after it. Before it was Max, after it, there was only Verstappen.

Just as Max was the friendly, smiling guy who joyfully congratulated his rivals, willingly gave interviews and joked with team members, Verstappen was a walking hailstorm from which lightning could strike at any moment.

"Fucking idiot."

He growled one last time and walked deeper into the garage, where everyone he encountered averted their gaze and moved out of his way. It was always best to simply get out of Max's way and let him cool down. But no one knew that the fire of anger was just beginning to burn and the epicenter was yet to come.

"What the hell was that, Max?"

Cold water. The hiss of an extinguished fire.

He felt a tightness in his chest upon hearing his father's voice. Jos Verstappen was the only person who could instantly turn his anger into pure, filtered fear.

Max unzipped his racing suit, unable to look his father in the face. He didn't even know what to say. What was there to say either, he had just let his father down. Not for the first time though.

"I asked you a question."

His father's cold, gruff tone cut Max to the core and once again, Max was six years old, stuttering as he explained to his dad why he crashed his go-kart into his friend's. Apologizing and making excuses, saying it wasn't his fault that another seven-year-old cut him off. In his eyes, Max wasn't a grown man with an amazing track record, he was just a brat who needed discipline because he made idiotic mistakes.

His father was about to thunder over him again when the whole stormy situation was suddenly illuminated by a ray of sunshine. Quite literally, as it was Y/N still dressed in her bright McLaren suit, who upon hearing about the commotion in the Aston Martin garage hastily went out to found her friend.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Verstappen, but Max is needed in the studio," she said quickly, grabbing Max's hand "Come on, Max, we need to go."

"We'll come back to this conversation."

His father mumbled under his breath, watching them go.

The girl squeezed her friend's hand tighter and started pulling him in the opposite direction, wanting to get him away from his father as quickly as possible.

"I'm not in the mood for interviews."

"There's no interview; I had to come up with something quickly to get you out of there."

Max stopped, causing Y/N to be pulled back as well. Surprised by his sudden decision, she turned to him with a questioning expression.

"I want to be alone right now, without anyone."

He let go of her hand but she still stubbornly held onto his fingers.

"We both know you don't want to be alone."

Max shook his head in denial. The last thing he wanted was to be in her company right now. He knew that when the commotion and the crowd disappeared, all the emotions would flood over him like a toxic wave.

"You don't understand."

"Yes, I don't understand because you don't give me the chance."

The girl approached him, their bodies only a few inches apart.

"Everything is fine between us only when you're in a good mood. We are really close, we spend time together and we are acting like actual friends. But as soon as something doesn't go your way and your behavior changes, you build a thick wall between us." Y/N looked into his eyes, shaking her head. "Friends don't do that, Max."

"That's what the best friends do," he replied, looking into her eyes. As they were always in the colour of the clear sky, in that moment they were having a storm inside. "The best friends won't drown you in the shit that's swirling through their lives, they won't drag you into their inner conflicts. The best friends won't be a burden to you, you know why? Because they'll just spare you that!"

Y/N embraced him without a word. She hugged him with such force that someone would need chains to pull her away. She had no intention of leaving Max's side, no matter what he was struggling with. She wanted to help him, to be his support and to be the light in his darkest nights. She had no intention of letting him continue to deceive himself with assurances that everything was always perfect. Because life never looks that way.

Adult Max didn't return her embrace, knowing that it was for the best. Adult Max closed his eyes and tilted his head, not wanting to let a single tear escape. He hoped that by remaining distant, by hurting the girl with his indifference, she would let go of him. But Little Max didn't want to make her sad; he wanted to hug his friend and not let her go until everything will be okay again.

"I won't leave you with this, Maxie. If you like it or not."

Maxie.

Lighter.

Explosion.

He exploded in tears without any warning. He sank to his knees and tightly embraced his friend, burying his face in her stomach. Y/N stroked his hair, holding him close. She didn't try to calm him, knowing full well that he just needed to cry. He needed to let out all the sadness, anger, and bitterness that had accumulated in his veins and poisoned him for years.

When the girl kissed his wet cheek, she could swear that it left a bitter taste on her lips.

And it was exactly the venom finally letting him go.

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #f1 one shot #f1 imagines #mclarendriver #mv33 #mv33 x reader

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youkissedareaderinthedark · 11 months

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The Day the Music Died

I’m sorry that this is gonna be so angsty, but I used to be in the marvel fandom where the reader died all the time and I love this trend on tiktok so

Summary: The Grid has to say goodbye to their favorite girl

2023 F1 Grid x young!fem!reader

(For the sake of this story, reader is Aston Martin driver alongside Fernando, and Lance is the reserved driver, she can also be American if you want to really fit the song)

It was your favorite kind of race, a few hours away from midnight, and it was pouring rain, meaning the race was going to be more unpredictable and chaotic than usual.

You’ve always loved the rain and the extra risk factor it bought to Formula 1, so when your engineer told you the conditions were going to stay the same for the race, a bright smile took over your face, brighter than your usual one.

Your smile was one of your trademarks on the grid, often being compared to Daniel Ricciardo on the matter. Despite the age gap, you and the Australian were quite close and were like walking rays of sunshine when the two of you were together.

You were closest with the other young drivers the most though, Lando, George, Zhou, Yuki, and your teammate Lance being your closest companions.

You describe the grid as being like in a family, your teammate Fernando was like your grid dad, always looking out for you and defending you when the media felt a little extra vicious. The older men on the grid like uncles, looking out for you but letting you have your fun.

Drivers like Carlos, Charles, Pierre, Max, Esteban, and Alex were like cousins, you messed around with each other but always looking out for the other. Reporters called you “the glue” saying that your youthful spirit had helped bond the drivers as more than just competition.

So it made sense that a lot of drivers were worried when your car went into the barriers during the race.

Sunday started off fine, you had a goodnight sleep, hung out with your PR officer for breakfast and walked into the paddock with a smile on your face.

You greeted other drivers and the co-workers you knew as you worked your way to your garage and into your drivers room, changed into your drivers suit and reviewed your strategy with a few engineers before you had to head into the garage to get into your car.

“Radio check Y/n, radio check” Your engineer came over the radio. “Loud and clear” You replied, the adrenaline and excitement already kicking in as you were given the go-ahead to head onto the track for the formation lap. The mist from the cars around you and your soaked visor limited your vision, but you managed to find your way to your spot on the track. You were starting P5 today and were already anxious to start the race.

The flag was waved, the five red lights came on and off before all 20 cars were accelerating down the track, trying to gain positions early. You held on to P5 throughout the race, trying to defend against Carlos Sainz’ Ferrari behind you and trying to overtake Charles Leclerc’s Ferrari in front of you.

It was Lap 25 when you attempted another overtake on Leclerc, speeding down the straight and trying to gain on him before the corner. Right as you were beginning your turn into the corner, your tires locked up and you headed into the barriers, going too fast for your brakes to properly stop the car.

You felt the impact on the right side of your abdomen first, then your head, then your legs. It was like being compressed into a small box then slammed against a cement wall.

What happened? Why aren’t I on the track? Your vision went dizzy as you tried to remember what happened. I must have locked up, but why does my side hurt so bad?

“Oh no! Big crash on Turn 7, I think that was Y/n L/n’s Aston Martin! That looked bad, might be a red flag if L/n doesn’t show responsiveness” Martin Brundle spoke worriedly, crashes during stormy races were never good.

Just focus on getting out of the car, you told yourself. You wrapped your arms around the halo to try and lift yourself up but the dizziness in your head combined with the immediate pain in your right side made you sit back down. I probably hurt my ribs, you thought. It’s fine, I’ll just wait for the medics.

Brundle was right, the yellow flag was waved first and the cars slowed down, but it soon became clear that the race wasn’t going to continue for a bit. After a few minutes of waiting for you, a red flag was waved and the medical team was sent out.

Black spots danced in your vision as you tried to look around for the marshals. You expected your vision to clear up after a second, but it never did. Your world just became fuzzier and darker.

You started hearing sirens of an ambulance approaching, but your arms felt too heavy to raise in a sign of acknowledgement.

“The safety car and marshals arrive at the scene, still no movement from L/n” Martin’s voice becomes somber but he stays hopeful, of course you were fine, you never get hurt, you’d get out in a moment and everything would be fine.

You couldn’t keep yourself awake for much longer. It’s okay, at least I’m okay, right? Right? You asked yourself that question, expecting to wake up in a couple minutes. You weren’t scared of going unconscious, you’d be okay. But your eyes closed for the last time before you could find an answer and it was over before you even realized it’d begun.

The drivers were still in their cars, wondering what had happened. They knew you had crashed, but they knew you were strong, you’ll walk out of your car and dramatically insist Daniel give you a piggy back ride when you saw him. “You didn’t even hurt your legs!” He’d complain and you’d just shrug and tell him to let you climb on.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the race might not continue for a bit, at least until Y/n L/n is safe and taken off the track” Martin tries to keep the viewers updated as curtains are placed around your car to keep the cameras away from you.

Everyone is getting antsy at this point, your engineer got no radio from you and there is no word from the medics yet. The drivers are calling in every other minute, anxious to hear from you. “Is she okay?” Fernando calls in. “Do we know if Y/n’s alright?” Carlos asks, having seen the crash up close. Daniel even walks into your garage, wanting to see for himself if there was any news on your crash.

As a Formula 1 Medic, Rowan should be prepared to handle any type of crash a driver was in, ranging from a bruise on their stomach to a broken leg, she was trained to handle it. But Rowan had never seen a dying person before, so her hesitation to help her coworker with lifting L/n out of her car was understandable.

Two other medics immediately crowd the girl. Rowan searching for a pulse, one taking off the teen’s helmet, and the third wrestling with the drivers suit, trying to assess the damage that could by covered by the clothing.

“Rowan, have you found a pulse?” One of the other medics who’s rummaging ambulance for supplies asks. Rowan doesn’t want to answer. She doesn’t want to face this. She wants to check her neck, her heart, and her wrist again even though she already did three times. Rowan doesn’t want to be one to tell everyone that Y/n L/n is dead, but Rowan knows better than that, so she removes her hands from the drivers body, hangs her head low, and closes her eyes as if that would stop her tears from falling.

“No pulse. I’ve checked everywhere three times. She’s gone.” The medic’s voice cracks as she says the last sentence, and a silence overcomes the team of safety marshals.

Nobody on the team had ever encountered a death before, so the medical staff was stuck in a mournful silence, letting the rain wash away the tears that threatened to drop from their cheeks.

The head of the team snaps out of it first. “Someone has to radio the Aston Martin garage and tell them” Everyone seems to step away, wanting to avoid being the one to announce the death. There was nothing to worry about though, as Rowan spoke up. “I’ll do it. I’ll make call” No one disagrees, and Rowan’s glad because she felt partly responsible, she should’ve gotten to Y/n quicker, helped her out of the car, told everyone to move quicker.

Rowan’s voice comes over the radio, shaky and somber. “Y/n L/n is dead. She has no pulse.” She pauses as her throat closes up. “We’ll take her to the medical center-“ That’s all the woman can manage before she bursts into tears and started shaking with sobs. Another medics pulls her closer to them, as they give a moment of silence for the driver.

The young medic is only a few years older than the girl who just died, questions herself, “What if I got there faster?” It lingers in her mind.

Gasps. Tears. Hands cover faces and people are pulled into hugs. Dead? Daniel thinks, no, she isn’t dead, Y/n- she can’t- she’s not dead. Before he realizes, he’s saying the words out loud and pressing the radio button before Otmar can stop him. “I- what do you mean she’s dead? She can’t be dead- she can’t be” The Australian has tears running down his face and he’s pulled away by one of the Aston Martin engineers.

Nobody knows what has happened except those in the Aston Martin garage, and nobody will know until 7:00am the next morning, when Y/n L/n’s death is announced by Aston Martin.

It seems like the entire world came together to offer their support. Millions of messages are sent to Y/n’s family and her friends and bouquets of flowers are sent to Y/n’s P.O. Box.

The funeral is held on Friday, family, friends, drivers, and co-workers show up to Y/n’s home town to mourn their beloved driver.

A moment of silence is held at the race three weeks later, nearly every driver cries and everyone that has a helmet has a sticker with your initials on it. Fernando wins for you and points at the sky as he sobs for his teammate that was like his daughter.

The paddock no longer feels the same. There was no longer a green suit to watch as she bounced around, talking to anyone and everyone, keeping a smile on her face through it all. There is something so clearly missing in the Aston Martin videos, no matter how much time passes. Fans rewatch her live streams and interviews because it’s all the comfort they have. You used to call the grid dinner outings “family dinner” but families smile and laugh together, and it takes a while before the grid can do that again.

Y/n L/n goes down in the Formula 1 Hall of Fame as the best female driver that has ever lived, but the whole world wishes she was there to see her induction herself.

The day the music died

So bye-bye Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the levee

But the levee was dry

Them good old boys were drinking whisky and rye

Singing, “This’ll be the day I die”

This will be the day that I die

if you’re confused on how y/n dies, I wrote it as her internal organs got crushes as she crashed straight into the barrier, i know it doesn’t really make sense and it took me me awhile to make this edit but I kinda forgot about it

also, I want to write more f1 fics after this, so if you have any suggestions on what team the reader should be on and what driver the reader should be with lmk 🫶

#formula 1 #reader insert #f1 2023 #f1 x you #f1 grid x reader #f1 drivers #driver reader #female driver reader #female f1 driver

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singaroundelay · 1 year

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I've been thinking about this scene for days now.

By actual RL time (and not 8-ish weeks of episodes), we're a little more than half-way through the EPL season... give or take.

It's impossible to imagine with Trent being around all the time in the offices that he hasn't seen at least one Diamond Dog mounting up. Or, if he hasn't been present he's got to have heard the barking coming from the offices. (Show-wise, we got close with the monkey sounds and Trent being called a sadistic nature documentarians — otherwise the other DD scene is sans-Trent) He's had to have seen Roy storm off like he isn't going to fucking be involved and he doesn't care about any of them except we know he really does, sorry Roy.

So you have this man who has always been on the outside looking in. We know from James Lance's own head canons that Trent was bullied by his father for being other. Growing up queer (even if we don't know how long he was closeted) he always would have been seen as an other growing up. An outsider.

Then he becomes this world class journalist, and though he might have unfettered access in the sports world, he's still on the outside looking in. He's not invited into locker rooms. He's only ever here to pass judgment on everyone around him.

And then Ted happens. Then AFC Richmond happens. And through a series of events, Trent completely upends his life for this ray of sunshine known as Ted Lasso. Ted helps him see that he's not an outsider in the way that Ted's gravitational pull is able to bring people together. He had Roy at Coach. He has Jamie acting like a team player.

He has Trent seeing the best in people.

Is it any wonder why he positively glows when he's around Ted? Why he's stopped masking his true self to the point where others can see he's a total fucking dork? (But he's my our dork...)

But even as Trent starts to gain trust of those around him, he still considers himself an observer. An outsider.

Until Roy storms out and leaves Trent in the room with the Diamond Dogs.

Beard: The Diamond Dogs are a group of men committed to supporting each other by sharing their most intimate thoughts, feelings and experiences. You in or out? Trent: Oh, I'm in.

No hesitation whatsoever. He doesn't need to know any more.

Because for the first time in his life, Trent is on the inside and he's going to grab that with both hands and never, ever let go.

That smile ❤️ It's the smile of a man who, at last, is part of something and isn't on the outside looking in.

For the record, Trent now officially knows if a marriage proposal is ever in the cards — don't do it in Paris.

#ted lasso #ted lasso season 3 #ted lasso spoilers #ted lasso spoiler #trent crimm #I have a lot of feelings about Trent #meta #meta post #ted lasso meta #Trent Crimm independent #tedependent #ted lasso/trent crimm #ted/trent #trent/ted #James lance

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leoramage · 8 months

Text

mastermind

⊹ masterlist ⊹ taglist ⊹

⊹⊱ trigger warning - [n/a]

⊹⊱ theme - [university au]

⊹⊱ pairings - [mick schumacher x student!y/n]

⊹⊱ keywords - [mind games and hints. "this is the first time i've felt the need to confess."]

The sun was setting over the sprawling campus of Gran Vincere Academy, casting a golden hue over the campus where dreams of speed and adrenaline took root. Every corner of the school echoed with the roar of powerful engines and the scent of high-octane fuel, but there was more to life than just racing. The academy is a hot pot of talent — a place where exceptional students from various fields came together.

"Miss L/N, are you okay? Class is dismissed." Professor Vowles soft snapped at you, finding yourself daydreaming about the upcoming weekend. The usual group of friends had exciting plans, but this time, it felt different. The classroom was already empty and it was just you and the Professor Vowles who likes to stay behind the classroom even though the lecture is over.

Thinking about your friend group... At first, it was just you and Daniel. Ricciardo is a sunshine over-the-top guy whom you were able to be friends with as you are both sat together in biology class. He hardly shuts up and mutters jokes under his breath or blurts them out loud amid lectures of Professor Abiteboul but regardless, he is always a guy who is down for anything and is known by everyone alongside Lando who is in photojournalism.

Lando has a Spanish friend named Carlos who is a varsity athlete for golfing. Then this Carlos has a Monegasque friend named Charles; who is pursuing a music degree - allegedly a serial monogamist and a heartthrob - targeting friends of his exes to be his next girl. Charles is often confused as a French and is mistakenly friends with the French duo.

Pierre is a varsity player for soccer; who dates high school girls despite him being in his senior year in college. While Esteban is enrolled in aerospace engineering and hangs out with the nepotism babies of the university: Mick and Lance.

Lance Stroll, the young billionaire boy plays for the varsity hockey team. Got into the dean multiple times for instigating fights at the back of the university parking lot.

Mick Schumacher, the charismatic and daring racing prodigy of Michael Schumacher, was part of the friend group, life had a funny way of intertwining paths. He is pursuing medicine to be a pediatrician or veterinarian... You were not sure, everyone just found him attractive nonetheless and he is one of your close friends alongside Daniel.

"Hey, Y/N!" Speaking of Mick, he greeted you with a warm smile. His blue eyes sparkled under the rays of the sun, a hint of his usual playful demeanor. Then there was a lady standing beside him who eyeballed on you before rolling her eyes. You found it odd, was he waiting for you despite being accompanied?

"Hey, Mick," You replied, adjusting the strap of your backpack after walking out of the classroom of Professor Vowles. "Ready for another semester of classes?"

Mick chuckled. "Always! But you know, Y/N, I've got a new strategy this year." He leaned in closer, his voice hushed as if he were sharing a secret and seemed to have forgotten that he was with this girl whom you do not recognize, "I've got a plan."

You couldn't help but laugh at his mischievousness. "Mick, I hope this plan of yours will not involve Lance and Esteban being sent to the Dean's office. You're going to have to do better than that."

He only chuckled and shook his head before muttering softly which sent shivers down your spine, "No it won't. See you soon, Y/N." Just as fast as he came, he left with the lady who seemed to be following him like a lost puppy.

⊰⊹⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋄⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⊹⊱

Weeks passed...

And Mick's plan whatever it was continued. You would walk the hallways of the campus, Mick passing by and greeting you shortly with "hi" and "hello y/n" while he is always accompanied by different girls on every occasion at every opportunity. Your conversations were kept short and awkward which made you feel pained at the fact that you and he weren't as close as it used to be.

"Have I done something wrong?" "Have I said something that offended him?" These were the thoughts that run in your head more than 300 kilometers per hour as it seems. It bothered you - yes. Because of the fact that you do not want to come across as anxious to Mick, you didn't know how to address the issue. What were you supposed to say without making everything look awkward?

As you sat with George and your friends in the school courtyard, he leaned over and whispered, "Have you noticed that Mick is always with unattractive girls whenever you see him?"

This caught your attention, snapping out of your snacks to furrow your brows in confusion at George's question. Even Carmen, George's girlfriend, looked upset at him for describing them as such. You didn't want to speak, you didn't want to sound judgemental by agreeing to the 'unattractive' part.

This gathered attention from Pierre who is closely listening in before butting in the conversation like the typical French tea spiller he is. "You want to know why?" He asks as you nod before the French smirks and turns to George to continue what is boiling under the surface. What was Mick doing all these past few weeks?

"Mick has a crush on you all this time and he's doing this to make you feel jealous - to elicit reaction out of you. He was getting frustrated because you didn't seem bothered at all with his shenanigans with these ladies." The British chuckled as you stared at him with wide eyes and slightly agape lips. Mick was what???

Pierre laughed at your reaction and spoke, "Why do you seem surprised, Y/N?"

Why were they telling this to you anyway? They were probably bluffing and it must be some sort of prank. Lewis only gave you a soft but genuine smile, at some point, it gave you a little sense of security that George and Pierre weren't playing around. So you decided to say something, "Why are you telling me this?" Uncertainty rung in your words still quite doubtful that they were not beating around the bush.

By the devil's name, the blonde German (and a blonde girl) walked towards the table with a smile on his lips and greeted everyone before sitting down, "Hello guys! Hey Y/N." Mick was at his usual antics, leaning in close to the girl, whispering something that made her blush before walking away.

"Y/n, can we talk?"

Those three words made your ear rung and deafen for a second. Finally, the moment of truth arrived as George, Pierre and the rest of the friend group shared looks as some were chuckling softly. So everyone knew while you don't. Did you miss out on a hangout night? Absolutely not.

Daniel looked concerned from the other side of the table as Mick stared at you hoping you'd accept his offer... And you did. With every step you take walking away from that table, your heart beats louder almost as if you could hear it with your ears as Mick leads you into a quiet place on the campus - the school pond & fountain where architecture students hang out. You were happy it wasn't in the parking lot knowing Lance's antics and his battleground was that place.

"Y/N, you're impossible," Mick sighs, leaning against the balustrade.

You raised an eyebrow, confusion etched in your features. "And why's that?"

He was scratching the back of his head, gaze on the ground - embarrassment glimmering in his eyes despite it cast down. "I have to tell you something, Y/N... I was hinting at this girl these past few months. She just doesn't seem to get it that I like her."

"Mick, if you're interested in someone, why not just be direct?" You leaned in, voice sincere. You were confused about how this conversation was going but a slight sting of jealousy sets into your heart. At the same time, you were upset that he was dragging you into this type of conversation and never really explained why he was hanging out less with you which left you dumbfounded for the past weeks.

He smiles sheepishly and all his attention now set into you. His blue eyes were staring at yours, touching every crevice of your own soul. His eyes were telling you something that words couldn't comprehend. "Fear of rejection, I guess. And she's… you're not like anyone else. You're not like everyone else."

"All these months that have passed."

"I planned everything to be close to you and to make you jealous... But it didn't work out." He chuckled awkwardly and lightly bit his lip.

"This is the first time I've felt the need to confess."

"I like you, Y/n."

At that moment, the unspoken truth hung between you both, now as clear as day. Your paths might have been unconventional, but they had led you to something genuine.

Author's Note: This is impulsive writing and this story had been crafted out of my dream. It's an odd dream but hey, I thought about for a moment to share this with you. And no, I wouldn't take requests to write. I do not wish to make a promise and disappoint you all for being slack in writing. I'm not quite sure how this turned out but I hope you guys liked it. 𔘓ฅ[⁠ᓀ⁠˵⁠▾⁠˵⁠ᓂ⁠]𔘓ฅ

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction created by the user in response to a creative writing prompt. Any resemblance to actual events, persons, or entities, whether living or deceased, is purely coincidental. The characters, events, and dialogue portrayed in this fanfiction are products of the user's imagination and are not meant to infringe upon any copyrights or trademarks associated with the Formula One sport or any real-life individuals. This fanfiction is solely intended for entertainment purposes, and the author acknowledges that the depicted scenarios are not endorsed, authorized, or supported by any official Formula One entities or the individuals mentioned.

#formula one #mick schumacher #mick schumacher x reader #Spotify #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader

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silversainz · 11 months

Note

29 “you look so pretty underneath me” & “you’re doing so well” for either zhou or lance (if you’re taking smut requests rn, if not that’s totally fine!) maybe something on the softer side (like no hard degradation or kinks or anything) and maybe like a sweetheart or two in there?

Sweet mornings ★ ZG24

# summary — sweet mornings with Zhou are like heaven and a bliss.

# warnings — soft smut, p n v, praise, oral (f!male receiving), mentions of marking, petnames, I've proofread but there might be some small errors.

Cracking your eyes open to face the ray of sunshine that illuminated the room was something you always loved, the ray was beautiful bouncing off the walls covering your face with the beam. It was a wonderful sight to woke up to but something you aren’t used to waking up was the feeling of guanyu’s hands pressing themselves against your stomach as he placed lingering kisses down your cheek to your bare shoulder.

“You awake” his voice was deep and soft from just waking up.

You slowly turned around to face, the ray of sunshine hitting his face as well making your heart swell up with butterflies as he looked so beautiful underneath the sunlight next to you.

“Been awake awhile” you laid your head on his chest his heartbeat pulsing through your ears as your hand drew different patterns on his chest. “Was just enjoying the sunrise’’ he hummed hand creasing your hair before pulling you closer to him to place kisses to your head.

“well” he paused his hand resting on your jaw to lift your head up to face him, “you do look beautiful in the sunlight’’ your cheeks burned with redness, he chuckled pulling you in for an soft tender kiss, as his hand made its way underneath the covers to rest on your hip body’s pushing against each other.

He broke the kiss, softly pushing you down to lay on your back his hands laid beside your head as your legs wrapped around his waist pushing him down to feel his bare, hot body against yours.

“What you thinking about huh?” His fingertips moved hair away from your face as he ducked his head down placing kisses on your cheeks making his way down to your neck, his teeth nipping at the soft skin causing a soft gasp to leave your lips at the feeling of his teeth.

“Hm thinking about how pretty you look” your hands threaded through his hair breath picking up as he kissed his way down your body, “so pretty in the sunlight” you finished off your sentence. He gently took the covers off you both tossing them to the side as he lightly pushed your legs open setting himself in-between them

He said nothing about that but the redness that formed on his cheeks told you everything you needed to know about how your words affected him. He pressed delicate kisses to your body, starting at your inner thighs making his way to your abdomen gently kissing around the area that pulsed for him and the feeling of his tongue.

“Zhou..please” you softly pleaded, chest heaving up and down, body heating up with need and want. “need you, please” your fist grabbed onto the bedsheets feeling the wetness of his tongue lick down your body before laying directly on your core giving you kitty licks as his tongue swells around your bundle of nerves sucking onto it, the action made your head hit the pillows.

Soft praises left Guanyu’s mouth as he worked you through your orgasm, his tongue hitting all the right areas that had you seeing stars as moans left your mouth in a pure unholy bliss. Which in his eyes, as he looked up at you, was a beautiful sight to see.

“You’re doing so well, honey” you softly cried as your legs started to shake, Zhou noticed replacing his tongue with his fingers as he placed tender kisses to your thighs.

“Am gonna cum” he hummed hovering over you his other hand resting on your cheek softy creasing your warm skin in the palm of his hand. “ go ahead and cum, dear” your eyes shut tightly at the softness of his tone as you came undone, your hand grabbing onto his hair as lazy moans left your mouth.

“You look so pretty underneath me, sweetheart ” he pulled his fingers out of your core a whine leaving your lips as he did so. He leaned down towards your chest his teeth nipping at the skin.

No words needed to be side as he ran his hands all over your body while he worked on leaving light markings to the valley of your breast, which was something he loved to leave on you as a sort of reminder of what only he’s allowed to see when your clothes come off.

He pinned your hands above your head as he slowly pushed his cock into your core a sight of relief falling from your mouths as you both fulfilled the want and desperation you were craving for one another. As He softly thrusted into your core he leaned down lips brushing against yours, “you’re so beautiful, so beautiful” he muttered out against your lips before closing the gap between you both.

The room filled up with moans and grunts as the sunlight bounced off you both creating a slight that left you breathless for words, only could focus on the feeling of zhou’s cock hitting all the right places while the sunlight bounced off his sweaty skin.

He broke the kiss, hand letting go of yours as he dropped his head to lay in your neck. “feel so good Zhou” your hands scratched down his back.

He groaned feeling the warmth of your hands scratch down his back, “fuck gonna cum, love” you kissed his neck hand leaving his back to thread through his now sweaty hair.

“Mm, cum for me honey” he grunted as he came hands becoming weak to hold himself up as he fell down to rest on top of you, his head on your chest while loud pants left his mouth.

He rolled over back to his side of the bed grabbing onto the covers to cover you both back up. “Am sleepy now” you yawned. He chuckled pulling you into his embrace while placing kisses to your temple.

“Well, it’s still early, get some sleep love.” you closed your eyes hand grabbing onto his as sleep overtook you both.

#zhou guanyu #guanyu zhou #zhou guanyu x reader #zhou guanyu x you #zhou guanyu imagine #zhou guanyu fanfic #zhou guanyu smut #zhou guanyu drabble #zhou guanyu fluff #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #f1 smut #formula one x reader #formula one fluff #formula one imagine

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keithkog · 1 month

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Lance likes beaches way more than me. Just because I’m resistant to UV rays does not mean I like sunshine. Sorry I’m not a fan of pruny fingers, sand everywhere, and seeing little kids almost drown in the sea… Okay that last one was a bit more morbid than I envisioned but I SAID ALMOST

Anyways I still go out there sometimes cause Lance doesn’t like just goin to the beach alone. He makes it a moderately better time, that’s for sure.

-Keith

#voltron #i dislike beaches #klance #klance headcanon #vld keith #keith kogane #keith voltron #voltron legendary defender #vld #vld lance #voltron headcanons #lance mcclain #lance voltron #lance headcanon #keith vld

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autisticlancemcclain · 2 years

Text

part one

--- --- ---

The slow and careful creaking of his door opening is what wakes Coran from his slumber. The next thing he hears is quiet footsteps, slow and careful, like a lion cub carefully sneaking up on its mother.

Coran grumbles, squeezing his eyes shut tighter and tensing in wait. He knows exactly what’s coming.

“Coran!” comes a whispered yell, right before 140 pounds of scrawny Latino human comes running and landing on top of Coran’s poor body in a flop. “Coran Coran Coran you need to wake up –” Lance needles, shaking the Altean’s shoulder.

“Oof,” Coran groans, feeling his very bones creak. He sighs, although he can’t help the smile taking over his face. “It is early, Lance. I am old. Go back to bed. Wake me up in the morning.”

Lance’s knee digs into the Altean’s back as he moves, turning around to flop on his back (still on top of Coran, of course).

“But the sky’s awake, so I’m awake,” Lance huffs theatrically. Coran can imagine him throwing a dramatic elbow over his eyes.

"It’s the middle of the night, child. You are growing. You need sleep.”

“That’s not true anymore!” Lance says excitedly, squirming around some more. “It’s past midnight! It’s my birthday! I’m 18 years old!” He shakes Coran’s shoulder again, and Coran opens one bleary eye, taking in Lance’s blinding beam and flapping hand. “I’m an adult now!”

18? Adult? Please.

“If your argument to your newfound adulthood and lack of further growth is that you have completed 18 trips around your sun, then I have some shocking news for you, dear.”

Lance pouts at him, and Coran groans one more time, before hefting himself up.

“No need to pout, Number Four. I’m up.”

Lance claps his hands, elated, and Coran smiles fondly as he drags himself out of bed.

“Okay okay okay! Meet me at the bridge! I already went to three locations, but I need your help to get to the fourth, so meet me there!”

…Locations?

Lance rushes out of the room before Coran can ask further questions.

Suspicious.

Coran shrugs, changing out of his blue silk pajamas into his royal attendant uniform. He doesn’t have to wear it, not anymore, but he likes wearing it. It was designed especially for him, after all. (And any memory from Altea always brings him deep comfort, even with the accompanying painful sting of loss).

Coran takes his sweet time strolling to the bridge, enjoying the quiet of the night. He finally arrives after several minutes of walking, and he pauses at the door, grinning as he watches the Blue Paladin dance around the bridge.

Lance twirls around, humming to himself, stopping abruptly when he sees Coran, nearly falling right over.

“Coran! You’re here! Let’s go!”

Coran squints at him.

“Leandro Agustìn,” Coran scolds as he’s heard Hunk do several dozen times, “is that a scar on your face?”

Lance smiles sheepishly. “Location 2 was a dragon’s den, it was wicked. She thought I was attacking her at first so she scratched me, but then we bonded and we’re friends now! She even let me keep this cool diamond.” Lance pulls a diamond seemingly from thin air, roughly the size of his face. Coran raises an eyebrow. He decides not to address the fact that Lance approached an actual dragon on his own, because honestly Lance is excellent with dangerous animals and has yet to give Coran a reason to doubt his abilities, and he has remained in one piece, so Coran’s not going to push the matter.

“Lance, child, you have not yet explained what these ‘locations’ are,” Coran reminds him. “I’m a little lost.”

“Oh! Right!”

Lance strides over to his station, grabbing his holopad and hurrying back to Coran. He flips it over, showing Coran a document with nothing on it but a few coordinates, no context at all.

“So this future version of me visited me at midnight,” he says casually. “We chatted for a bit, but he told me the reason he contacted me was because there was a list of locations he needed to show me that I am not, under any circumstance, meant to visit. So I ignored him immediately, obviously. The first location was this cool beach planet about a twenty minute flight from here – the time there ran differently, so I got to spend like two days scuba diving and it was my birthday the whole time! Only, like, a half-hour had passed when I got back to the Castle. Isn’t that cool? And look, these are all the shells I got!”

He pulls out a huge bag of shells, also seemingly from nowhere. Coran blinks at him.

“Oh, wow,” he says, leaning forward to inspect them closer, “these are beautiful shells! Excellent eye, my boy!”

Lance beams at him. “Thank you! They were fun to collect.” He sets the bag down carefully on his chair, then turns back to Coran. “The last location I’ve been to so far was this piercing place! Look!” He sticks out his tongue, showing off a blue stud nestled proudly in the muscle.

Coran grins. “That explains the lisp.”

Lance closes his mouth, smile sliding right back into place. “Yep! I don’t mind it though, I look so cool. My sister has a tongue piercing, I’ve always wanted one, so I was so pumped to pull up at the parlour.”

“Those sound like excellent adventures, Lance.”

“They were! The rest of the coordinates are too far to reach in Blue, though. That’s why I need your help!”

“For wormholes?”

“Yep! The next set of coordinates is in the Seflarn quadrant.”

“Oh, that’s quite a distance away,” Coran agrees, walking over to the podium. He stands with his hands above the controls, and Lance sits on the floor (he has informed Coran in the past of his hatred for chairs). Coran’s eyes glow as his palms make contact with the controls as his quintessence connects and intertwines with the quintessence from the Balmeran crystal. In one second he’s envisioning the notorious emptiness of the Seflarn galaxy, in the next, they’ve arrived. Lance is the first of them to move, rushing forward to the control board and leaning as far as he can over it.

“Whoa,” Lance says as he takes in the galaxy before him, “this bitch is empty. Yeet, I guess. Damn.”

Coran doesn’t know what half of those words mean, but he understands the sentiment. “Yes, child. This galaxy is very, very old. Most of it has already faded away. In a few thousand years, it shall simply be empty space.”

“Hey, what’s that over there?” Lance asks, pointing to a growing flash of bright light a ways to the left. Coran squints at it, considering, and they both realise what it is at the same time, gasping.

“A supernova! Happening right now! At this very second!” Lance exclaims. Coran rushes over to join him by the giant window, so he can see it better.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a star go supernova,” Coran comments.

“This is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Lance breathes, and Coran chuckles.

“I take it you’ve never seen one before?”

Lance shakes his head, not taking his eyes off the star for even a second. Coran smiles, quietly taking in the boy’s wide-eyed wonder. To say Lance looks awed is an understatement.

It’s very sweet.

“Coran, Coran, look! It’s really starting to explode! Oh, wow, it’s so bright!”

Coran glances at the star, briefly, but finds himself looking back at Lance. He’s seen a supernova before, but it’s been a long time since he’s seen Lance look so elated. He knows which sight he will cherish more.

Lance continues to supply a running commentary, eyes glued to the fiery explosion. As the life of the star comes to an end, and the light finally fades away, Lance looks back towards Coran. He is shaking with glee.

“That. Was. So. Cool!” he yells, pumping his fists.

“That it was, dear boy,” Coran agrees, although the brightness he’s envisioning did not come from a star. “That it was.”

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cinebration · 1 year

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Already Awake (Geralt of Rivia x Reader) [Part 2; Request]

Hii can you please write part 2 for "Already Awake" please i love it so much

And i just wanted to say i love your writing❤❤❤❤—Requested by anon

Part 1 | Part 2

Tagged: @constantshitposter, @whiskeywinter89, @beautifulsweetchaos, @dreamingaboutyousworld, @itsrubberbisquit, @pretty-toxic-revolver, @the-soot-sprite

Warnings: none

Gif Source: dobrien

Everything ached with the fire of a thousand suns, and yet there were still miles to go before you arrived at what you hoped was salvation. To be delivered from this not-dream, you had to travel across the Continent beside the gruff, almost surly white-haired man whose help had been reluctantly given after seeing how piteous you were in this strange land.

Having never ridden a horse before, you were ill-suited to it. The rhythm of the horse’s trot eluded you, reminding you of your old piano lessons. Your teacher, a middle-aged woman with a kind face, had a voice like a whip when you failed to adhere to the metronome. If ever you had disbelieved that rhythm had never been your strong suit, your inability to match the horse’s stride painfully drove the point home.

The sharp chill of the encroaching winter in conjunction with every jolt of pain through your joints from the horse’s trot convinced you that you were not slumbering at all. A faint spark of hope burned in a secret part of yourself, whispering, It’s still a dream, just a vivid one. You’ll forget upon waking.

It grew dimmer with each passing day, burning brightest only in the morning as you emerged from real sleep into this other world. In the wee hours of the morning, the sun cresting above through the trees, its light more diffuse each sunrise as winter drew nearer, you prayed—to whom, to what, to whatever was necessary—that you would wake properly. Bargaining, you offered to sacrifice reading fantasy, even watching it on TV, if only you would be delivered.

If the man, Geralt, hear you in those moments, he kept silent, preferring his own company. The gruff, brooding type had always been one of your favorites in stories, but sitting beside the real thing, sharing silent meals, was less disappointing and more unnerving. You weren’t sure the man was fully or truly human, and you couldn’t help wondering if he was leading you to certain doom.

“How much further?” you asked on the sixth morning, the words a pained croak as fire lanced up your battered back.

“Another two days,” he answered as gruff as he always did, his voice rasping like coal.

“Two days,” you muttered, suppressing a tired sob. “Two days.” It seemed an eternity, the whole week several eternities.

The horses plodded along at a leisurely pace in the early morning sunshine slicing rays through the trees lining the road.

“Will they be able to send me home?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” You twisted in your saddle, winced as more pain shot through you, and dared to look at his rugged features.

He fixed golden-yellow eyes on you, sending a shiver down your spine.

“There’s no guarantee?”

“Nothing is guaranteed.”

Strangling a noise of distress, you clenched tight the reins of your horse until your knuckles turned white and fresh pain crackled up your forearms. The tiny spark of hope dimmed further, a mere ember in ash.

You didn’t speak again until dinner that evening. The fire crackled and blazed comfortingly, but you loathed the sight of it. You never wished to see a campfire again.

“Who are they?” you asked, chewing on the tough jerky Geralt had produced from his pack. “Your friend.”

The man hesitated long enough for you to wonder if he had heard you at all. “A sorceress,” he said at last.

“A sorceress? With real magic?” The words rang in your ears, hitching your breath and skipping your heart. Magic? Well, of course, you reasoned. If this is a fantasy world, then magic should abound.

Geralt grunted assent, a shadow darkening his rough features. A chill clawed up your spine as you saw the ominous cloud flicker over him.

“Is that…is that a bad thing? Is she a bad thing?”

“No.”

“A-are you sure? Because it doesn’t sound like you are.”

Geralt closed his eyes, his shoulders hunching minutely beneath his leather coat. “It’s…complicated.”

Your guts twisted. “Complicated for me or complicated for you?”

The muscle in his jaw twitched. “Both, I would imagine.”

“Great. That’s just…great.” Between the pain and the unexpected news, you lost your appetite, shredding the jerky with your thumbs instead. “There isn’t…there isn’t somebody else?”

“Not with the same kind of power.”

Night birds called from their perches in the trees as the fire cracked and popped. You forced yourself to eat more of the jerky, hearing your mother’s admonition to clean your plate. Your vision blurred as you thought of her.

“I don’t even know how I got here,” you mumbled, your throat tightening as you felt sobs building in your chest. “If I don’t know that, how will your friend know how to send me home?”

The man offered nothing but silence.

Shifting on the log, you gasped with pain as new waves of it rolled through your legs and torso. Curses flew from your lips as you struggled to find a spot that didn’t ache, anything for a slight reprieve. Tears spilled down your cheeks despite your valiant efforts to stop them.

Slumping onto your side, you curled up beneath the cloak the man had given you, the flames of the fire wavering before you. The ground was too hard, the air too cold. Everything would hurt forever, and there would be no relief.

“You shouldn’t have told me I was awake,” you cried. “You should have let me believe I was dreaming.”

Geralt remained silent.

#Geralt of Rivia x Reader #Geralt of Rivia #Geralt of Rivia imagine #Geralt x Reader #Geralt #Geralt imagine #Henry Cavill x Reader #Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill imagine #The Witcher #requests

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