#Lance can’t let go of the person they were. and they can’t let go of a life they blame him for

[cllightning81]

Hidden [LS2+OP81]

Summary : People believe Oscar is thirdwheeling your relationship with Logan. However, they'd be wrong.

Pairing/s: Logan Sargeant x Oscar Piastri x Reader

Word Count : 2.4k

Masterlist Logan Sargeant Masterlist Oscar Piastri Masterlist Want to be included in my tag list? Click HERE

Your relationship with Oscar and Logan had never been one that was shared with the world, and for the longest time, all three of you just assumed it would never be shared with the world. Oscar was more than happy about that. He wasn’t the kind of guy looking for public displays of affection towards him from either you or Logan but when Logan confessed that he wanted to go public Oscar pushed for you and Logan to go public and let fans see him as the third wheel. 

You had obviously argued with the idea. You understood why Oscar didn’t want to. They raced in so many countries where being in any kind of “non standard” relationships would get them banned or arrested, but you could also see where Logan was coming from. He wanted to show you both off. 

You, Oscar and Logan had grown up together karting in England. You can’t actually remember how the relationship between the three of you came around. You had started off as enemies, then moved to friends and all of a sudden became boyfriends and girlfriends. While you couldn’t exactly complain, it would have been nice to have a fun story to tell the grandkids in the future. Maybe one of them had the story hidden somewhere. 

You personally had stopped racing many years ago after seeing how much one season in Formula 4 cost your parents. Deciding that while you wanted to stay in racing, there were many other ways to do that. So you stopped putting your parents through the financial burden of racing and put them through the financial burden of university. 

You couldn’t lie, it did get you somewhere. Between university and an apprenticeship with Aston Martin and all the previous names they went by, you were set for the Formula One world. While you expected to be behind the scenes in the technology campus, you were more than surprised when Lawrence Stroll himself asked you to join them on race weekends. 

Who were you to say, no? Being at the racetrack every weekend and getting to support your boyfriends in person. So here you were walking through the Imola paddock. Oscar and Logan chatting as you trailed slightly behind reading the news on your phone, not paying much attention to what was being said. 

“You okay?” Logan asked as they both stopped walking. You looked up with a nod 

“Hmm? Yeah! Sorry. I was reading the news about back home” You shrugged, and they nodded, continuing to walk, obviously deciding it was a good enough answer considering you do it quite often. They boys stopped outside the Mclaren garage without an indication they were going to stop, causing you to bump into Oscar’s solid back. His hands instantly coming around to stop you from falling 

“Careful” He chuckled as you huffed, straightening your Aston Martin shirt and slipping your phone into your pocket. 

“Next time, tell me we're about to stop” You complained, and Logan laughed, saying his final byes to Oscar. Your hand gently brushed against Oscar’s own hand. 

“Be safe out there” You smiled up at him, causing him to nod 

“You know I will be” He smiled, allowing you and Logan to continue your walk. Logan blabbering about how he thought the race was going to go and just about everything until you got to the Aston Martin garage. 

“Be safe out there” You told him, and he nodded with a smile 

“I’ll do my best” He smiled, walking off as you walked inside the Aston Martin hospitality. 

“And over there just coming in is Y/N. She’s late, but we don’t tell her that” You heard Lance tell a bunch of little kids as you walked over behind him. 

“He does tell me that, but I also keep him safe, so he knows when to be quiet” You hummed, sitting down in the chair next to him. 

When you first started working in AM, you understood why people didn’t like Lance Stroll. However, that was just his guard. When you really got to know him and his family, you understood that they were just normal people, and Lawrence just wanted the best for his son. 

You sat with Lance for a little bit before leaving to the garage to start your own work for the morning. Saying a ‘hello’ to Lawrence as you passed him. 

The rest of the day went as well as it could. Oscar continued to be asked questions about ‘Third Wheeling’ and Logan. Both Oscar and Logan continued to be asked about what it was like to be the grid kid to you and Lance. How that came about you would never understand. Considering you were newer to this side of the paddock than Oscar and Logan. 

The race wasn’t the best with only one out of three cars coming back in one piece. Logan was a victim of Kevin’s dive bombing. It was a good move realistically if it had worked out correctly, but Logan just happened to miss it in his mirrors and went for a move on the car in front at the same time. Lance was a victim of the car not cooperating and ending up in the barriers. A loose wheel, the mechanics had come back and told you both. Whereas Oscar got to keep his 100% lap completed streak. Still the only one this season. 

Logan was waiting outside the Aston Martin Hospitality as you sat with Lance going over some basic race data. 

“Hey Logan’s waiting outside for you. Well, I assume it's you” You looked over before getting up 

“I’ll just be a moment” You mumbled as Lance shrugged 

“Take your time” He leaned back in his seat, obviously not caring about going over the data. However, you hadn’t expected him to make a run for it. 

You walked down to Logan, who reached a hand out to you. Taking his hand on your own. You tilted your head slightly as he wrapped his arms around you. 

“Hey what’s wrong?” You frowned, pushing some hair out of his face

“Just my team again” You sighed 

“I really wish you’d let me do something about it Logs” You pressed a kiss to his head where it was lying in the crook of your neck. 

“You know I like doing it by myself though” He explained, and you nodded 

“I do, but Logs the way that team is treating you is ridiculous. One conversation with your grid grandpa and you’d be sorted for at least a year” You joked, getting him to crack a smile 

“Oh we need to have a word about that. How come I’ve got two dads?” He asked 

“How come I’m your fucking mum?” You asked and he laughed, his head falling back. You smiled glad you could make him laugh “Who’s your other dad then?” You asked, having not seen the rumours about it 

“Button” He shrugged, and you whistled 

“Hmm I’m not going to complain about that one” You joked, and he tickled your sides, making you push him away. Oscar appeared next to Logans side “Osc save me” You complained as he just stood there laughing 

“I came to steal Logan for a little bit” He shrugged, and you nodded 

“Go ahead. I need to finish debrief” You smiled, stepping back a little 

“I’ll let you speak to him” Your eyes widened at Logan’s statement.

“Seriously? You’ll let me speak to Lawrence?” You questioned, and he nodded, turning on his heel and walking away with Oscar. You walked back inside groaning as all Lance’s stuff was gone. Obviously. 

“The kid gone missing?” Fernando asked, and you nodded 

“We were almost done anyway. I guess I’ll just let him go” You shrugged, and he nodded, glancing to where you, Oscar, and Logan previously stood. 

“So what’s the real story between you three?” He asked as you walked with him. You almost choked on your own spit at the open question

“I erm. I” You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks 

“I’ve seen the three of you behind closed doors. I used to work with Oscar remember” You nodded, having briefly forgotten about Oscar’s Alpine days. You looked over at him. It was Nando. You looked up to him throughout your karting days, and here he was asking about your relationship. 

“We’re all dating” You explained quietly as Fernando smiled at you with a hum. You looked up at him, confused as you stopped in the garage 

“Are you happy with those two idiots?” He asked, and you nodded with a smile as the blush rose. 

“Very happy Nando” You nodded 

“Good” And with that, he walked away, leaving you to gather your belongings alone. Once all your belongings were in the bag, you walked towards Lawrence's office. Knocking on the door. The man had been like a second father to you since he took over the company

“Come in” He called, and you walked into his office, almost like a school kid about to get told off. “Ah Y/N. Good race today, no?” He asked, and you nodded 

“Would have been better if the wheel stayed on the car” You shrugged, and he nodded, motioning for you to sit down. 

“Can’t go right all the time unfortunately” He replied, and you nodded 

“I guess that’s true” You placed your bag on the floor next to the seat you were now sitting in as he moved around the desk to sit on the same side as you. He didn’t like formal meetings you’d found over the years. 

“So how can I help you?” He asked, and you let out a shaky breath. You hadn’t thought through what you were about to say to him. 

“It’s about Logan” You started, and he motioned for you to continue “Williams isn’t treating him well. Actually they’re treating him like he’s a piece of shit on the grass. And I’m not the kind of person to come in here and ask for favours, but we know he’s a good driver. We both saw him in the junior formulas, and we can see the differences in his and Albon’s car. Please, Lawrence, is there anything you can do for him?” You asked. Lawrence's eyes softened. Obviously, before moving into the F1 paddock you’d warned him about the relationship, and with an NDA signed, he was more than happy to still have you on the team. 

“How bad is it?” He asked and you bit you lip slightly 

“Secrets about Logan’s car, midseason drivers talks. It’s bad. He won’t tell Oscar or I how bad, but it’s bad” Lawrence shook his head 

“That is bad. Look I’ll speak to Mike, but I can’t promise anything” You nodded

“That’s all I ask. It doesn’t have to be a seat even if it’s just a reserve or test driver. I know he’d appreciate it especially if they do replace him with an F2 kid” You sighed, and he nodded

“Anything for my grid grandson” He joked, and you laughed, shaking your head

“Oh my god. Not you as well” You laughed, and he laughed along. 

“Lance was telling me about it. Weird relationship you’ve got there” You laughed with a nod 

“We were talking about that earlier” You nodded 

“Well I’ll speak to Mike. Give me until Canada. Think it can wait that long?” He asked, and you nodded 

“I’m sure it will” You smiled, going to shake his hand as you both stood up however, Lawrence had other plans, pulling you into a hug. 

Back at the hotel, you could tell how Logan was feeling just by how he was moping around the room. You shared a knowing look with Oscar. You grabbed your shoes, pulling them on before pressing a kiss to both their lips, leaving Logan confused before walking out. Leaving them both alone. 

You knew what Oscar’s plan was while you were away, which is exactly why you left without saying a word. Your plan was to go buy a basket for Logan full of things just to cheer him up. Part of yours and Oscar’s master plan every time Logan was feeling down. 

Returning to the hotel room, you knocked on the door, realising that on your way out, you didn’t grab the room key. Oscar pulled the door open, still shirtless, having obviously been in the shower recently. 

“Hey” He smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips as you walked into the room. 

“Hey yourself” You hummed, glancing towards the bathroom where the shower was running. Placing the bags on the bed as Oscar’s arms wrapped around your waist looking into the bags as you moved all the goodies into a gift basket. 

Oscar pressed a kiss to your shoulder as you leaned back into him, looking at your handy work with a hum. The shower turned off as you took your shoes off, throwing them next to the pile at the door. 

You had brought all of Logan’s favourite candy – Italy has a lot of American candy sections – some of his other favourite foods as well as a little teddy bear. 

“You forgot something at home” Oscar hummed, and you looked at him with a frown. He reached into his pockets, pulling out your rings. You smiled, holding out your hand, letting him slide them onto your ring finger. 

Logan walked out the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist frowning as he saw the basket sat on the bed. 

“Thought you could do with some cheering up” You smiled, reaching your hand out for him to join you and Oscar. Your arm setting around his waist 

“Lawrence is speaking to Mike. He can’t promise anything, however it’s better than nothing. But we knew you still needed cheering up. So some of your favourites” You smiled, resting your head on his shoulder as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your hair before turning his head to kiss Oscar. 

Coming Soon

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[ynbabe]

Cute situations w/ f1 drivers- ep2. part 2

Asking the drivers if they 'wanna nap?'

PT-1 w/Charles, Carlos, Lando, Oscar, George, Lewis, Lance & Fernando

Max

You had just gotten off the phone with your mother, so obviously tears were stinging your eyes and the urge to punch a wall was getting stronger by the minute. Unfortunately, you weren't the only one dealing with less-than-loving parents.

"But that's not fair, no one's perfect, I've won five out of eight races," He yelled into the phone to a louder voice responding from the other end. Max looked defeated, with red under his eyes and hair sticking up where he dragged his hands through it.

"No, I didn't fucking let them win, it's their job too," he stood right by the door, slamming it behind him, "Whatever, bye," he cut the call, standing still for a few seconds, glaring at his phone, knowing him debating between throwing it at a wall or stomping on it.

"Wanna nap?" You asked him, setting your phone on the coffee table and letting yourself fall face first on to the hotel bed. Max followed suit, one arm over your waist.

“Damn, can you imagine if we swapped places as kids?” You thought out loud as sleep neared making Max scoff.

He turned to you and in a dead serious tone replied, “Y/n/n, you’d be a serial killer and I’d probably be in jail, now let me sleep, you’re warm,” The man’s response was screech worthy, making you want to smack him but for once, he was right, you were very warm and cuddly and so was he, a fight could wait, sleep was now.

Logan

“LOGAN!” You screamed, knocking on his hotel room door, hoping the man would hurry to answer.

You couldn’t believe the man had launched an entire app without even giving you a hint! You were so proud of him and you couldn’t wait to celebrate. You waited to see his smiling face, knowing you were going to shower him with praises and way too many hugs but when he opened the door, his demeanour was nothing like you had expected.

“Dude didn’t you just launch an app? Why the no good sad face?” You asked as you walked in past him.

He sighed as he sat on his bed, working away at his laptop and a hundred pages spread out. You couldn’t help but frown.

“Logan, Logan,” you called out, ultimately pulling the boys head to face yours, “what the fuck mate, you should be happy right now, what’s wrong?” You asked, disturbed that your happy go lucky, it is what it is friend was so sullen.

“The cars fucked, I have no future, my team fucking hates me, my best and only friend literally never talks to me and I feel like a fucking failure,” he went of on you, slamming his laptop shut making you flinch.

You stared unimpressed at his little charade to keep you away, unfortunately you had grown up with the man and knew his tantrums and breakdowns, “First of all, your only friend? What am I chopped liver? Secondly, James Vowles can fuck off for all I care, you deserve so much better then that ratchet ass team, thirdly you just launch your own app, need I go on?” You presented embodying your inner George Russell as you picked Logan’s laptop and papers off his bed.

“But still-” his face was still down and he continued to doubt himself.

“Look,” you say next to him, holding his hand in yours, “it’s been a tough few years, not gonna lie, but you’re going to pull through cause you are one of the most talented people I know,” you squeezed his hand, “also you can’t give up because you promised you’d get rich and pay for everything.” You shrugged and pulled him to lay on the bed.

He huffed, smacking a pillow on your face, “so that’s why you’re friends with me? Not my dazzling personality? How could you? This is a betrayal, I’m betrayed,” he joked, finally getting back to his normal self, but you were still worried about him.

You turned to the man enveloping him in your arms, the man immediately returning the favour immediately. You let yourself fall into a comfortable sleep, telling yourself to do this more often.

Daniel

“Hey, are you busy?” Daniel had said softly as he entered your room immediately raising red flags in your mind, never once hand the man been so quiet. You quickly put away your stuff on the night stand patting the spot on the bed next to you to let him sit.

“Yeah, is everything okay? You look tired, Danny,” you asked to nothing but silence from the man. A few seconds passed and you could see how wet his eyes were.

“Dan-”

“I’m so tired y/n/n,” he spoke in a hoarse whisper, scaring you, what did he mean by that? “I’m just, I can’t, I’m doing everything I can and it isn’t enough, I- I,” he tried speaking but he couldn’t without choking.

You tired not to cry with him, the only man you’d always known to be laughing and happy even in the worst of circumstances, keeping everyone’s spirits up was sitting here in front of you, so hopeless.

You didn’t think twice before pulling him in a hug, cradling him as you both sank into a laying position. “You’re tired, mate, let’s take a nap, it’ll be okay Danny, I promise, it’s going to be fine,” you whispered into his hair making him nod.

You felt him drift off as the tears slowed down and you couldn’t help passing out in the warmth either knowing when you wake up you’d find a way to make the man himself again.

Yuki

“Can I please marry you?” You begged for what seemed the tenth time that day much to Yuki’s irritation.

“I am never cooking for you ever again,” he complained falling onto the sofa next to you, watching the sitcom tv rather than paying attention to you.

“Please, you know you loved the tiramisu I made,” you boasted, opening up a button on your shirt to allow you to breath. The amount of food you and Yuki had consumed for individuals of your sizes were seriously guiness worthy.

He whined knowing you had won that argument, “fine but I want the recipe as a wedding gift,” he joked making the both of you laugh.

“Dude I’m ready to go into a food coma for the next ten fucking years,” you confessed, making the man nod in agreement.

“I’ve eaten enough for the next damn week.”

“We should nap,” you spoke out loud, turning to the man next to you, “wanna nap?”

“Yup,” he immediately answered to which you both pounced on either ends of the sofa, shifting into comfortable positions, making sure neither was kicking the other, his legs on the coffee table pulled close to the sofa and yours curled up closed to you.

Pierre

“Fuck me,” you groaned as another one of your projects fell through. You threw your phone on the table in front of you, sighing as you did.

“Do mind if I do,” joked an irritating grating voice from behind you, from your bed, you had honestly forgotten your friend had been there after another pissy fight with his sweetheart teammate.

“Keep talking Gasly, I’ll call Ocon over make it a threesome,” you laughed as you joined him, pushing him to one side to make space.

The man looked honestly disgusted, “I can’t believe you’d stoop low enough to even joke about that, standards babe, standards,” he scoffed looking at you judgementally to which you rolled your eyes.

“Damn I guess we won’t be making love, sad, I was actually going to agree for once, I’ll just ask Estie then” you fake sighed, feigning disappointment, much to the other man’s horror.

“Shut up, Y/n,” he knocked your shoulder with his after he saw your grin, fighting a yawn as you pushed him back.

“Do you wanna nap?” You asked, equally tired and dejected about your failed project, he nodded and pulled the both of you into a more comfortable position, turning in to face you, burying his face in your neck and you let your hand play with his silky blonde locks, falling into a comfortable sleep.

Esteban

“BITCH, YOU WILL NOT BELIVE THE SHIT I’VE JUST SEEN-” you yelled as you ran into Esteban’s driver room, seeing him lying on the makeshift bed.

You immediately jumped in next to him, waking him up in a startle, “MERDE! Y/n?” He yelled in fear and then confusion, looking around as if a swat team had burst in, “what is wrong with you?” He screeched as he pulled his hands over his face in exhaustion, “you’re a worse gossip than Pierre,” he grunted lying back down.

You animatedly threw yourself down next to him, using his arm as a pillow. “I abhor that accusation, actually,” you grumbled but gave in nonetheless, “okay so look at this photo and tell me what you see,” you showed his your phone, a photo you’d gotten out of a greedy paparazzi’s hand as a media control agent in Mercedes.

The man next to you suddenly seemed much more awake, “Is that Nico fucking Rosberg?” He whisper- yelled into your ears, snatching the phone out your hands.

“Yup,” you grinned popping the p, “bought that shit for eleven thousand dollars,” he whistled, “that was taken at 4 am at Lewis’s hotel,” you whispered, turning your body to face his.

“Oh my god,” he laughed, “I thought these were rumours?” He asked gleefully.

“Nope, this isn’t even the first time I’ve had to do damage control,” you sighed, trying to get your phone back but it was pulled away by the taller man.

“You mean there’s gossip you haven’t told me? Your best friend, whose room you’re currently hiding in? Interrupting my nap time?”

“You, Estie, are such a drama queen,” you teased him, pulling your phone out of his hand. “And we can definitely nap, I spent all night trying to convince that asshole to drop the story,” you kept you phone in your pocket as Esteban made himself comfortable, both of you letting yourselves rest after the tiring day you had.

Zhou

“How are you not broke?” The man yelled in astonishment as he saw at the amount of bags in the Prada assistants hands, choosing to ignore his own in another’s, he was allowed to spend he technically was a millionaire, even without his family and sponsors.

You looked at him with raised brows as you opened the doors your apartment building, you and Zhou both owning the penthouses, yours above his.

You let the men drop the bags off on your floor, keeping Zhou waiting, making him annoyed to your amusement. When the men finally left you simply answered, “Samsung shares.”

Zhou groaned “Spoilt child,” and headed into the guest suite as you headed into your room, “look whose talking I have my own assistant at the mall,” you called out behind you. That had been funny, the man followed Zhou to every shop, holding the bags you both collected till you needed another.

You both walked out and showed each other the clothes and accessories you had bought, occasionally swapping one or two. As the day progressed into late evening you called for food, tired from the little fashion show you had.

“I need a nap,” you groaned, folding your feet as you sat on the dinning table chair.

“My legs are killing me,” Zhou agreed, not only had he had a terrible work out in the morning but you both had covered way more than 10,000 steps in that mall.

“Want to nap?” You offered, knowing very well he could just go a floor below to his own home.

“Sure, turn on screen mirroring on your tv, I’ll show you the drivers chat,” he said heading into your room and you ran behind him with glee.

The gossip was the best part of being friends with Zhou, that and the really warm cuddles he gave, “oh my god, Charles and Max again?” You laughed and leaned on his shoulders as he relayed all the details to you, his voice slowly softening as you both drifted into a peaceful sleep.

[ethereance]

*Goes feral over these tags*

-yeah! For the memories it really could go any way. Pouring all of one’s memories of the deceased into their newly transmuted body, in turn forgetting them, leaving a shadow in Lance’s memories which he cannot compare to this new person because he simply does not know them. Yet, yet he feels like he should, that seeing them like this should kill him. But they are both living

-or, or it could be seen as an exchange as the transmuted body creates new memories, he loses some of his. Another way of losing oneself in the process of bringing back the dead. It’s the struggle for everyone else around him, knowing they could lose Lance because of this, and the only way to bring him back is too—

-oooo, I was thinking the hollow route, which starts with him thinking that the transmuted person is off, but the more he talks with other people, the more he realises it was him. He’s the one that’s off. He gave up much more than he realised. The spark, the drive that led him to commit human transmutation in the first place just isn’t there. Maybe it’s relief, that the other person is back, and yet, he hardly even feels that.

-But I very much like the possibility of it leading to a shortened life span. Without his soul, he’s running out of time, running on the fumes of his extinguished soul.

-and all this sacrifice for someone who hates his guts. He could live with it if they were themselves (knowing they hate him, but at least they’re alive!!! Alive to hate him!! It’s better than dead), but the more time spent around said person, the more he can see the cracks in the facade. It seems too good to be true at first for Lance, but the longer spent around them, the more it feels like an act, to them, to him. Maybe he’ll turn a blind eye, a gut feeling telling him not to, but this is them. It has to be. Has to because then what was it all for? But they’re too much like his memories of them, and in the eyes of others, they do not match up to how they perceived them. That’s the thing, this person is going off of how others (Lance) remembered them, they do not have an idea of who they are themselves. They hate this idea of them, this identity that has been forced upon them, but it is all they know. It is everything he gave to them, and yet they struggle to meet it. It’s a walking identity crisis of a person, and the first real thought they have to themselves is that they never asked for this, the second is that they’ll do anything and everything to break against this mould.

They are not themselves.

Any longer blind to it, and it could cost everything.

‘It’s all his fault and he must fix it even if it kills him (a part of him hoping it does)’ <<<< This!!!! He’d feel a duty to his mistakes, to make things right. This is a person (or a monster? Or is it easier to see them as one? See them as a foe wearing the face of a loved one like a meat suit?). A person he moulded to outfit his grief, a person he moulded to fill a void shaped like them. But they don’t fit the mould, and yet they still exist. His doing. Anyone they hurt, he’d probably feel like it was on him, the consequences of his actions. They’re sullying their memory, making it rotten and more people are being dragged into grief.

A part of him wants to hope there’s a part of them still in there. Another part doesn’t.

Because he knows what he has to do, and if it really is them, he’d be losing them all over again.

And as long as part of him thinks this, that there’s still hope they’re them, the longer this goes on. The longer their memory hurts and hurts and hurts, and the more people who will push to let them go. Their soul is long gone from this world.

(He feels their second death would kill him) (and so let it, Lance thinks.)

Thoughts on an au where Earth also has alchemy but it's kinda like one in fma and Lance did the Human Transmutation?? (I don't think kid!Lance would initially be interested in studying nerd shit alchemy but if it's to bring someone he loves? Then yeah. This guy was in show equivalent of nasa/stem program so he can be a pilot, I believe in him)

Very very very much like where you’re going with this Anon. Because oh boy does this give one the opportunity to test Lance to his limits *insert one evil cackle here.* (As someone who loves fmab, but especially fma03 and what that particular version did with its homunculus, *fma spoilers here* and their relationship with identity, and the identity imposed upon them, the very essence of ‘came back wrong’ this could lead to a horrible no good very bad time for Lance should I start writing anything remotely like this. Which I’ve now begun. Whoops.)

I have many thoughts :))) Probably focused way too much on the fma alchemy part, but brace yourself.

So. Humans have alchemy. Maybe they’re naturally born with this ability, perhaps many years ago ancient Alteans arrived in hiding and brought the practice of alchemy with them. It’s just a thing that’s always existed.

Pidge and Matt are the obvious to go for if you follow the fma storyline. They’re the kid geniuses and honestly that sounds like an interesting fic following the pair of them resurrecting their Dad (or perhaps Pidge trying to and Matt only catches on far too late). But. But. But Lance going f*** it we ball and messing around with those mystic mumbo jumbo dark forces he doesn’t get, learning to understand them because he cannot handle a reality where this dead person isn’t around? Yes please. I write self indulgently.

You get it! Lance got into fighter pilot class because there was a spot, meaning he would probably have been the top of cargo class, and you don’t get there without at least trying. Yeah, he’d call it ‘nerdy’, but this guy will put in the effort if it comes to it, and who’s he fooling, he was very much enjoying himself in that M&m episode.

So, if the situation arises, if he loses someone he cares about, and he’s in a world where the solution is there seemingly in the palm of his hand (human transmutation)? Yeah, he’ll put in the hard work, and wouldn’t think twice about the repercussions on him if it means whoever he’s doing this for will be okay. Is it selfish? Is it selfless? Who can say? Lance cares so much for his family, something happening to them would devastate him, so in this kind of au they’ll probably be at the top of the list of resurrection. So I’m thinking:

-His mother (his family is in shambles and a kid Lance wants things to go back to normal). Totally not ripping off fma with this suggestion.

-Rachel (they’re the closest in age, she has a matching jacket with him/has worn a spare version of his jacket so I’m gonna use what little breadcrumbs I have to presume she’s the sibling closest to him. I also like the probably refuted by canon headcanon of them being twins, and how upon returning to earth those two would deal with this new 3 year age gap between them. The ramifications of that time skip and Lance trying to find his own place in his family again just seems interesting to explore but I digress).

-Veronica (have more of a feel for her personality as opposed to characters like Rachel, Marco, and Luis. And Lance was pretty protective of her, despite Veronica being older than him).

-Hunk (could even go the childhood friends route with them). There’s nothing Lance wouldn’t do for his friends, he values them so much.

-Allura if it’s set around the same time as canon is (I’m an allurancer at heart and can’t help adding her to the list. Besides, allura has healed/resurrected him in canon during omega shield. Lance would want to give back, and would probably rationalise it as something she would do, sacrificing herself for someone else. Mr I can’t imagine this world without you is going to great lengths to get her the heck back, even at the cost of himself aka the fic I’m currently writing now Anon what have you done).

-or to pull plots up from canon, it could be Shiro and this is how Kuron (homunculus Shiro) is born, but I kinda see Keith being the one more likely to pull off the human transmutation for this. Maybe they work together on this? It would mean that Shiro and Lance would have to have a stronger bond than they did in canon, but anything is possible in an au (not that they didn’t have small moments, but they weren’t a focus like Keith and Shiro were).

Of course, it doesn’t go to plan at all. Whatsoever.

To what lengths would he go for sacrifice?

It’s all about that equivalent exchange.

-an arm and a leg because this gives him the perfect coping with humour ™ opportunity to say it only cost him an arm and a leg. Plus, perhaps Lance brought this person back out of guilt, ‘if I had been fast enough—‘. His inaction to save them the first time now leaves him without an arm, or without a leg. Or both (he’s not tethering anyone’s soul to armour here, just depends on how much flesh is taken from him to recreate the deceased’s body). Also, also. It correlates to his two positions on Voltron. The very same arm he was, the very same leg.

Also. It’s about those parallels of being just that little bit more like his hero (Shiro) but knowing that the loss of his arm was self inflicted, making him feel like a false hero, a presense, and he couldn’t feel further away from Shiro. He failed to save this person.

-memories of him in the mind of people he cares about (If you’re feeling super mean).

-His memories of the deceased. Now he wants to know why exactly he risked so much to bring back this unknown person back. What do they mean to him?

-him unknowingly giving up his soul so they can have one. And they’re fine and Lance feels like he was the one who came back wrong ™ there is something missing in him and he doesn’t get it.

And then whoever it is comes back.

They get thrown in a healing pod. Lance probably gets berated by whoever is there (Shiro, his mother, Coran) for doing so reckless, so risky without telling anyone. He knew they’d talk him out of this, but it all worked out right? Right?

But this person isn’t right.

Something about their skin is like a reanimated corpse’. It’s a little too pale. And their eyes are a little too dead. But it can all go by the wayside, they can ignore it. Being gone for so long can’t have been easy.

Said person resents who Lance made them be.

He didn’t bring them back at all.

And so we go the route of them having been brought back but is it really them? Or someone else who has been left with Lance’s memory of who they’re meant to be?

A small part of this person cares for Lance as they did, as a son/friend/sibling/significant other, and they hate that.

Maybe they require quintessence to keep them alive. And oh no. Not this again.

Just. Lance learning alchemy for the purpose of saving someone only he doesn’t save them at all. He risks it all to create a person that never asked to exist, that never asked to be who he wants them to be.

He didn’t make them right.

[fastandcarlos]

Personal Hairdresser : ̗̀➛ Lance Stroll

summary: you finally get the chance to play with lance’s hair and you’re determined to make the most of it

The empty space beside you brought a huff from you, expecting Lance to be there beside you, you were instead greeted by a cold space, leaving you disappointed. Much of the day was already gone, but with you opting to work the late shift you were desperate for rest regardless of what time of day it was.

You stretched your arms up into the air to try and wake yourself up a bit, rubbing your eyes to try and shake off the remaining feeling of sleep. Just outside of the room you could hear some banging and clattering around, not even wanting to imagine what carnage Lance was getting up to around your apartment. You went to shout for him, but your voice was still groggy, so instead you reached across and took your phone out from under your pillow.

Lance’s contact was number one as you pressed it and hoped he’d answer your call.

“Hey sleepyhead,” his familiar voice softly spoke as he answered, “how are you feeling? Bit better now you’ve had a bit of a rest.”

“Why did you leave me?” You groaned, running your free hand through your messy hair. Lance could only chuckle at the desperation in your voice, letting him know that you were still pretty sleepy too.

“I had some things to do,” he chuckled, “we can’t all sleep all day.”

“Hey, some of us have work to do,” you murmured, pulling the duvet even further around your frame. “Everything hurts Lance, I swear this feeling in my stomach better be my period arriving otherwise you’re gonna have to fast track me to hospital like the roads are a formula one track.”

A frown formed on Lance’s face as he listened to you, heart breaking at your anguish. “I’m sorry that it’s hurting love, do you need me to get you anything? I was going to go to the gym and try and get a quick session in, but I can stay here with you instead. I managed to get all my other jobs done whilst you slept,” Lance informed you. He was desperate to get everything sorted so that when you were awake, he was able to place his undivided attention all on you.

You thought for a moment before finding the energy to respond, “I think all that I want is you right now.”

“I can definitely do that,” Lance smiled, moving around the living room and tidying the last few little bits up so that it was exactly how you liked it.

“You know where I am to come and do that.”

“Can’t we stay on the phone?” Lance teased.

Your scoff was so loud that he managed to hear you from the other room.

“I hate you,” you muttered under your breath.

Lance chuckled at your response, “I’m only messing with you babe, I’m coming.”

As soon as your bedroom door opened the expression on your face softened. Lance dropped his phone into his pocket before closing the door behind him and making his way across to you where you laid impatiently.

You shuffled over slightly so that there was enough room for Lance to sit down beside you, brushing his hands through your hair before tracing a delicate trail of kisses along your jawline and against your mouth.

What captures Lance’s attention the most though is the mess of your hair, how some strands have fallen in front of your face, how other strands have knotted together where you’ve tossed and turned, or how some have beads of sweat attached from where you’ve ended up getting too hot whilst you rested.

And the feeling of Lance’s eyes looking at your hair soon made you feel unsettled. “There’s a hairband in my top drawer, I can tie it all back out of the way.”

Lance’s smile dropped into a frown as he realised what he had accidentally done. “No, I didn’t mean it for that love, your hair is fine,” Lance assured you, opening up the drawer and taking the band out of it anyway.

“What are you doing with that then?"

Lance twirls the band between his fingertips a few times before stretching it out and closing it again, he pretends to aim it a few times at you to flick it but quickly stops himself when he meets the fear in your eyes. “These could do some serious damage, how are these not classes as a weapon?” He chuckles to himself, surprised at the resistance in the band. You just stay where you are, watching in disbelief as something so simple ends up fascinating him to no end. There had been plenty of them scattered around his apartment over the years, but Lance had never quite realised how important they were to you, or how strong they really were to hold your hair up so well.

But he’d only seen yours.

You can see him thinking, poking against his arm to capture his attention. “Want to tell me what’s making you smile like that?”

Lance glances across at you, “would you be uncomfortable if I laid down here?”

Lance pointed to the gap between your legs, looking at you with a hopeful grin on his face. You immediately began to worry about what his attentions were, knowing him too well.

It didn’t take long for Lance to realise what it was that you were thinking too. “I’m not going to sleep with you baby, I just thought you might want to try something out.”

“I-I knew that,” you stuttered, trying to brush Lance off, but his eyes rolled, knowing he had read you and that mind of yours perfectly.

Lance moves from where he was sat, positioning himself between your legs and leaning himself back. “I can’t believe you think of me like that.”

You allow Lance to lower himself back, resting your hands against his shoulders to make sure he lays himself in a spot that is comfortable enough for you too. Meanwhile, his hands reach up and brush through his hair.

Slowly you begin to pick up on the hints that Lance has dropped, understanding why he had decided to lay there. “Are you really giving me the chance to play with your hair? You’ve turned me down every time I’ve asked for years.”

Lance nodded nervously, “I’m trusting you, which is very brave of me to do.”

You moved your hands, beginning to brush through the volume of Lance’s hair, “I’m so glad you decided to grow this out now.” Whilst you begin to entertain yourself with Lance’s hair, he picks out his phone from his pocket and begins to read through some of the messages he’s been sent. He’s used to having his hair messed with, despite stubbornly telling people on shoots that his hair is fine, they still protest and use their products to make sure that Lance’s hair looks as good as it possibly can.

Your touch is surprisingly gentle for Lance, you carefully scoop the strands up and twirl the hairband around them. On the odd occasion you pull too hard, he hisses, before assuring you that he doesn’t mind a little bit of pain.

Lance stuns himself with how comfortable he is, almost relaxing into your touch too much, feeling himself having to fend off the urge to go to sleep.

Eventually your attempt is complete. You’ve taken as much of Lance’s hair as you can, tying it into a small ponytail at the top of his head. You couldn’t help but proudly smile at what you had done, although you weren’t sure whether Lance would be as big of a fan of your masterpiece.

“You look amazing,” you chuckled, letting Lance know that you had finished with him.

Straight away he turned the camera of his phone onto himself, keen to see what you’d done. A snigger came from him as he lifted the phone up to see the little bun that you had tied to the top of his hair, loose strands sticking out in all directions where they had either slipped out or hadn’t quite been long enough to reach the band. Lance shakes his head, but you know deep down from his expression that he’s mightily impressed.

Behind him, you’re struggling to hold back your own laughter, impressing yourself with how well it had actually turned out. Lance’s free hand reaches up and brushes his hand over the bun a couple of times. It’s thicker than he imagined, and surprisingly suits him more than he had imagined too. He didn’t want to quite compliment the job you had done, worried that messing with his hair would become a regular occurrence.

“What do you think to showing this to the stylist next time you have a shoot at work?” You proposed, telling just from his shift in posture that Lance’s eyes had widened. “You might start a bit of a trend amongst drivers, I’d go as far to say as you’re not far enough managing to get yourself a manbun here Stroll.”

Lance finally takes the chance to tilt his head and look back at you, his expression full of disbelief. “Something tells me that it might be a little bit tricky for me to be able to put a helmet on if I’ve got this sticking out of the top of my head, I’ll end up ripping half of my hair out or something love.”

As you study Lance, your mind is beginning to fill with all sorts of ideas as to what you could do with him. He could tell your mind was hard at work as he watched you, Lance was slightly fearful as to what came next. However, after hearing your groggy voice earlier, he knew it was worth it to finally be able to see you smile again and hear that cheeriness in your voice that he was so fond of.

You found yourself unable to take your eyes from Lance, he’d hate you for saying it, but he looked cute. Adorable, in fact. “Stop,” he spoke, making you jump. Your smile was only getting bigger which made him sense that more danger was on its way, particularly after he had offered to let you play with his hair.

“I can’t take you seriously like this,” you admitted, reaching to where you had left your phone and opening up the camera. Lance reluctantly smiled as you told him to, snapping a photo of him with his hair still upright, the stubble on his face finishing the look off perfectly for you.

“Is this it? Can I take it out now?” Lance hopefully asked, only to have that snatched away from him when your head shook. You’d managed to get most of his hair in one band, but you were sure that you could do a little bit better.

With one quick movement you took the band out of Lance’s hair let it fall in all sorts of directions around his head.

You turned Lance’s head around so that he was facing the other way again, using your fingertips to part it so that it sat perfectly on either side of his head. “Do I even want to ask what you’re doing?” Lance enquired, catching you reaching for another hairband out of the corner of his eye.

There was a moment before you spoke, wanting to find the perfect answer to catch Lance out. “You don’t need to worry bub, I’m just making you look even more handsome then you already do.”

“What are you trying to say? That I’m not handsome enough.”

“I mean…” you trailed off, “there’s always room for improvement.” In response, Lance reached back as best as he could and tickled against your waist. It took you by surprise as you flinched, accidentally kicking your leg into the small of his back as you tried to move him away. His hair slipped out of your hands as you moved back, letting Lance fall back slightly which made him stop.

You groaned as you tried to recompose yourself again, “what did I even do for you to be so mean to you?”

“You said I wasn’t handsome enough,” Lance huffed as you returned to your job and started to fix Lance’s hair back up again. “This is the point when you tell me that’s not true.”

“Hang on,” you spoke, tying one half of his hair into a hairband, before taking the hair on the other side of his head and tying that up into another band. “Now you’re handsome enough,” you smiled as you moved back and admired your handiwork again, knowing Lance would never quite know how to react to it.

“Babe,” he sighed as he grabbed his phone once again and noticed the two buns now on the top of his head. Lance turned himself around so that he was now facing you, pressing a kiss against your lips. “No one at work would ever take me seriously again if they saw me looking like this.”

“Really? Cause I don’t think you’ve ever looked better,” you couldn’t help but tease.

“At least everyone will know what a nice boyfriend I am if they see that I’ve done this,” Lance tried to reason, searching for a way to make himself feel better.

You hummed in agreement with him as you fixed a few of the strands that weren’t quite where you wanted them to be. “Everyone knows how good of a boyfriend you are, you trend more for your loving gestures then you do for your performances on the track these days. You’re the driver that all the teenage girls wish they could date, that’s got to count for something?”

Lance didn’t tend to involve himself with that side of things too much, but you loved to tease him about it whenever you got the chance.

Some people weren’t particularly fond of others commenting and gushing over their partner’s on social media, but you on the other hand, adored it. You loved knowing that the guy they spoke about was the guy that you got to go home with at night. Or how behind closed doors Lance managed to prove those people wrong – many would never expect Lance to let someone play with his hair, how wrong they were.

“You’re the best,” you suddenly spoke, taking Lance by surprise too as he took a hold of both of your hands.

“Where did that suddenly come from?” He questioned, searching to meet your eyes as he waited for your answer.

“Nowhere, it’s just the truth."

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a while, as embarrassed as Lance wanted to be that he sat with his hair in space buns, he wasn’t. It was a memory that he would hold onto, mostly because of the smile that was on your face. Knowing that you had enjoyed messing around with Lance was by far the most important thing to him.

You snapped a couple more pictures of Lance, moving to take the hairbands out of his hair, only for him to stop you. His grip wasn’t tight, but it was strong enough to move your hands down back into your lap. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but Lance sat proudly in front of you, almost as if to tell you that he was happy for his hair to be left as it was for a little while longer.

You continued to stare for a few moments, expecting Lance to change his mind, but he didn’t. He sat with the same smile on his face, knowing that he had left you in a state of utter bemusement. “You actually don’t mind this?” You eventually asked, finally allowing your smile to reappear. “Does this mean that I’ll get to play with your hair more often now?”

He hated to admit it, he hated to give you the satisfaction, but Lance had surprisingly found it all very relaxing. Now he got it. He got why you always asked him to play with your hair whenever you weren’t feeling yourself.

“I guess I wouldn’t mind if you did it again.”

“I knew it!”

Lance’s head shook, “you really are impossible sometimes.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[coco-loco-nut]

Book Club - Part 5

Pairing: Lance Stroll x Reader, Grid x Reader

Summary: the wedding, not too much grid involvement (sorry!!!)

masterlist

________

You didn't expect planning a wedding to be this hard. You and Lance agreed on something more low-key, but that doesn't really happen when you are both famous in your own right and you are marrying the son of a billionaire, so you settled on a fancy but small wedding. Lawrence funded the whole wedding, wanting the day to go off without a hitch, besides you and Lance getting hitched obviously. Lance took care of planning the Honeymoon, leaving you and Lawrence to plan the wedding.

"Y/n, go take a break. You are stressing out over nothing my dear. Let me handle it, your wedding shouldn't be stressful," Lawrence rests his hand on your shoulder and you nod, taking a deep breath. Your soon-to-be father-in-law has done a great job so far at bringing your vision to life, so you trusted him to argue with the beach venue in Greece. You walked away and went to the mini library of the Switzerland home.

Your bridal party/mini vacation to a small beach town in Corsica, planned by none other than George Russell and Chloe Stroll, was fabulous. The weekend flew by so quick, and Daniel made it his personal mission to get you drunk off your ass 24/7. The whole book club, besides Fernando made up your bridal party, in addition to George, Logan, and Chloe.

“Y/n, you look beautiful,” Chloe and Claire help the stylists put finishing touches on you. The greek sun has tanned you perfectly the past couple days, and given you a beautiful glow. There is a knock on the door and Chloe is quick to open it. Your bridal party walks in, dressed in their tan suits.

“My daughter, you look stunning,” Kimi hugs you, he is giving you away on your request.

“Thank you,” you whisper. Your bridal party consists of Chloe (your maid of honor), the book club (minus Fernando who is with his teammate), George, and Logan. Logan’s groomsmen is also filled with drivers as well as Chloe’s husband Scotty who is serving as his Best Man.

“Alright, time for one last meeting before testing,” Checo says, one of your wedding photographers making sure to catch the moment on camera. An hour filled with laughter passes quickly and soon enough, Lawrence is guiding you to your first look with Lance. It was one thing that you and Lance were certain of, wanting the private moment for yourselves.

Lance is standing on the balcony staring at the ocean, waiting for you. You spot a photographer standing in a corner of the large space, trying to remain invisible as you slip onto the balcony.

“Come here often?” your voice shakes slightly as the breath leaves you. He looks utterly handsome in his suit and perfectly styled hair.

“I- you look- wow,” he says, taking in every inch of you. Both of you look at each other, tears pricking in your eyes.

“I can, and will, say the same thing about you,” you grin, stepping towards him. He carefully pulls you into him, kissing you.

“I can’t wait to make you my wife,” he rests his forehead on yours.

“Half an hour,” you could hear the sounds of your guests filling in.

“Then they will be able to see the most beautiful woman in the world,” Lance smiles, your heart racing.

“It will be a shame that they won’t be looking at you. How will they know that I am the luckiest girl in the world,” you return his smile.

“No, I am the luckiest guy. I get to marry a multitalented woman. You are an incredible racer, the most beautiful woman on earth, the kindest soul, and yet you choose me,” he continues his flattery.

“I am a good racer, not incredible,” you laugh. You aren’t like Max, Charles, Lando or Carlos, you don’t fight for podiums as often, but you do tend to hang around P4 or P5. You aren’t a world championship winning driver, it’s why Red Bull signed you to replace Checo in the upcoming season following his retirement. They need a solid second driver, and they know that Max will teach you more and push you.

“Nonsense, my baby is going to be driving for Red Bull, they chose you for a reason,” Lance reassures you.

“Y/n, Lance, one more minute,” Chloe interrupts.

“I’ll see you out there,” you squeeze his hands, a motion he returns. After a quick kiss, you follow him off the balcony. Your stylists do some quick touch ups before your party is escorted outside, you watch as the procession starts, Lance leading the pairs down the aisle. The grid takes the coupling in stride, holding arms with each other and making everyone giggle at them, including you.

“Are you ready, Kirppu?” Kimi asks, tears in his eyes.

“Remember, I’m training you for whenever those three get married,” you glance at your adoptive siblings.

“I know, they adore their older sister. Let’s not make Lance wait any longer,” Kimi sighs as you squeeze his arm. You and Kimi walk gracefully down the aisle, a wide smile on your face, and Kimi’s usually stoic face full of emotion. When the officiant, aka Sebastian Vettel, asks who is giving you away, he proudly identifies himself as your father, and when he sits down beside Minttu he is crying like a baby. The ceremony flies by, but you and Lance soak in every detail. Your vows to each other are short and sweet, not needing to say a lot to profess your love to each other.

“You may now kiss the bride,” Sebastian says, Lance wastes no time in wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into a kiss. The guys on both sides of you go nuts, Kimi cries again, and you pull apart with a grin. Lance picks you up and carries you down the aisle.

The reception takes place on the beach, you changed into a shorter, flowier, white dress for dancing and sand purposes, Lance’s suit jacket is off and the top few shirt buttons are undone. You and Lance entered first for the sole purpose of wanting to see how the ‘couples’ entered. Each driver pairing made the both of you laugh your butts off, very glad that there is video evidence of it.

You both refused to let Netflix film and other celebrity news outlets photograph any parts of the wedding, they weren’t invited and if they wanted media from it, they can pay the both of you a hefty sum. The security provisions for keeping away paparazzi meant that everyone was able to truly enjoy themselves.

“Family photo!” Minttu says, pulling you and Lance over as the reception starts. The first picture is just Robin, Rianna, and you carefully holding Grace, then Lance gets added in, then Kimi and Minttu join, then Lance leaves the picture so it is only you 6.

“My icecubes,” Kimi smiles at the pictures adoringly.

“One day we are going to drive for Ferrari together, just like Iskä,” Robin looks up at you and you smile, knowing that you will be far to old to do that when he is in F1.

“Heck yeah, little bro,” you hug him. Maybe you will get to be his race engineer, congratulating him when he wins his first championship.

“You two will be champions of the world together,” Lance winks at you and Robin.

“You look like a princess and a prince,” Rianna says, you pick her up and hug her. Kimi is silently combusting while watching his kids be cute together.

“That makes you a princess too, since you are my little sister,” you tickle her and she squirms out of your arms into Lance’s.

“I’ll protect you, don’t worry,” he angles her away from you as she laughs.

“Hey!” you laugh as well.

“Ok kids, let your older sister and brother greet their other guests,” Minttu says, Lances heart swells hearing himself included. You both make your laps around the tables, greeting the guests before dinner is served. The speeches are wonderful, and before you know it, you are dancing with Kimi for your Father-Daughter dance.

“Are you ok, Dad? You are crying more than I think you ever have,” you smile softly, as he uses a had to wipe his eyes.

“I just never expected to grow so close to you when I offered to mentor you, and now you are for all intents and purposes my daughter, and I’m so proud of how much you’ve accomplished this past year. If I had it my way, your last name would be Räikkönen, not Stroll now,” Kimi sniffles.

“About that. My new legal name is Y/n Räikkönen-Stroll. I talked to the family about it and they agreed, I was going to wait to surprise you,” you reveal, his smile quickly growing.

“I’m so happy to call you my daughter,” he hugs you as the song ends.

“No more happy as I am to call you my dad,” you squeeze him tight. As the night ends, you and Lance are whisked away to catch the private jet to wherever Lance planned the Honeymoon.

instagram

y/username now and forever Y/n Räikkönen-Stroll ily @/lancestroll

lancestroll can’t wait to spend forever with you ❤️

fernandoalonso félicitations , beautiful wedding!

kimiraikkonen Congratulations, Kirppu, so glad to have a new addition to the family.

y/username thanks dad!

sebastianvettel Congrats to the happy couple! Always a good wedding when Kimi cries!

logansargeant poor Nico, his grid wife has a grid husband now

nicohulkenberg No one can separate us, our love is eternal

y/username who said I can’t have both! 🥰

lancestroll @y/username …me, your husband???

redbullracing our favorite grid couple! p.s. let us know what name your are racing under - Admin

y/username Y/n Räikkönen, two Strolls on the grid would be too chaotic. love you admin 🫶

comments on this post are limited

[acapelladitty]

`♡° kinktober 2024! ---

☆ kink: massage (dubious consent)

☆ pairing: riddler/reader

☆ summary: With the Riddler restrained to a gurney, you test out a new way to get your favourite 'patient' to calm down.

kinktober '24 ☆ main masterlist ☆ ao3

Restrained to the bed with several thick straps digging into his limbs, Edward Nygma was every inch the picture of indignation as he struggled against his bonds. Abandoned to your personal care due to a myriad of reasons which ranged from other staff finding him unbearable to a lack of available personnel, he had only been strapped down to the gurney for around ten minutes but it was ten minutes of a relentless verbal barrage.

“Fools! Cretins! You are all so weak in the presence of such genius that you must keep me held like this? Your stupidity is baffling and the world will not miss your presence when my revenge is had. How dare any of you put your hands on me?”

Spitting the final question with vitriol, the sheer level of irritation in his voice sparks an idea within your mind – one which is bolstered by just how absolutely fed up you are with his goddamn attitude.

“Mr Nygma,” interrupting his rant as you came to stand beside his torso, “I am going to have to ask you to relax.”

“Relax?” Snarling the response, Edward’s green eyes are narrowed at you in such a way that you immediately understand that if his hands were not restrained then they would be wrapped around your neck in a heartbeat. “Untie me now, wench.”

“It’s my job to keep you settled as a patient,” meeting his anger with forced patience, you put your plan into action as you drop your hands to his thin shoulders. Your thumbs instantly go to work, rubbing circles into his tensed muscles as his body goes stock-still at the unexpected sensation.

"What are you- unhand me at once you sour-faced bitch."

"That's not very kind, Mr Nygma. Your muscles are in knots and it would be better to let me rub you down."

Gripping his shoulders, you dig your fingers into the skin there and admire the way his entire body jerks at the touch as he pulls at the restraints with renewed energy. Trapped, he is utterly helpless beneath your hands and the power you hold over him in this instant is heady – your fingers trembling slightly at the smooth out across his shoulder before returning to rub along the base of his neck.

“Stop. Touching. Me.”

Anger giving way to something almost like panic, the shift is what you expected and you take it in stride as you move to stand behind his head, gazing down as his emerald eyes with resolution.

“No.”

Dragging your fingers higher, you rub your digits across his scalp. His auburn hair looks redder than usual against the stark whiteness of the gurney as you disturb the strands. They feel almost damp against your fingers, a mixed result of his sweat-laced struggles and also the natural oils which have built up there between his showers.

You roll your nails against the area just to the side of his ears and you both freeze in place at the low moan which slips free of his lips at the sensation. His eyes, which until now have been stubbornly facing away from your position, tilt up to meet your own and you can see the shame burning fiercely at his own reaction. And yet, his head can’t seem to help itself as it presses firmly into your hands – silently asking for what his pride could never stomach to demand.

Glancing down at his body, a thrill of wickedness lances through your gut as you take in the visible tent which pokes free of the fabric which covers his groin. It catches you by surprise but your plans switch in an instant as arousal joins the cruel delight which is powering your movements and you decide to push your fun to its extremes.

“Mr Nygma!” Feigning shock at the obvious tent, you place your hand on his upper thigh and enjoy the way that the muscles tense beneath your fingers. “I see that you’re feeling more relaxed than I thought.”

His cheeks a wild shade of pink, you can see the shame which is making his features tight as he refuses to look down and meet your eye. All of that earlier bravado is gone, replaced by a woeful embarrassment as his own body betrayed him at your soft touches.

“I’m not cruel like the rest of them, Edward. Can I call you Edward? Eddie?”

Taking it into your palm, a move which draws a sharp inhale from Edward as his fingers visibly scrape against the fabric of the gurney, you stroke along his length with a soft jerking motion. He’s not overly huge but his cock has a slight thickness which feels nice in your hand, as you gently work along his velvety skin.

He says nothing but you can see the twitch in his jaw at the question.

Pulling the waistband of his pants down a few inches, you slowly reveal a healthy patch of auburn pubic hair which curls all the way down to the base of his cock and you unleash a feigned gasp of surprise as his cock springs free – jutting proudly towards his stomach.

Despite the situation, he remains stubbornly silent and you enjoy the peace for what its worth. That said, he can’t hide how much your actions are affecting him. Every stroke of your hand forces a soft gasp from his lips, his mouth forming into a slight ‘o’ as you focus your attention on his strained cockhead – the tip jerking into your palm as it begs for more in a way that its owner cannot.

“You shouldn’t be- this isn’t right.” Panting out the broken words, there is a cuteness to how determined Edward is to continue to try and deny that he is enjoying himself – his throbbing cock making his arousal utterly undeniable as his hips buck into your hand with what little purchase they can manage. “Why are y-”

“I’m giving you what you need, Eddie. You’re too uptight when they try to lock you up in these restraints, so I think a little positive encouragement might help you,” crooning the words, you tighten your hand around the base of his cock and use the fingers of your other hand to polish the head of his cock, spreading his leaking pre-cum to make the movements even smoother.

“No, no,” he pleads, unable to pull away and having to endure every wicked touch you subject him to as he whines, “please, I’m close.” His hair is a mess, the thrashing of his skull against the gurney having knocked most of the coiffed locks free, and you take pity and drop your fingers from his cockhead.

“If you ask me to finish you off I will,” you offer, using your free hand to stroke along his jaw and feel the slight sweat which had developed there. “I’m not that cruel.”

Overworked and overstimulated, Edward can barely wrap his mouth around the words as he shudders against the gurney and cants his hips like a desperate schoolboy.

“Please, nurse. Please let me- let me come.”

Pleased with the request, you glance at him with a smirk, “Okay.”

True to your word, you pick up the pace on your hand and quickly pull him over the edge he’s been dangling on for the last minute. His orgasm hits with surprising violence, his release spurting across your hand hard enough to break free of his cock and splash across the fabric which covers his lower stomach. Unable to control his breathing, the whine which pairs with his release sends a shiver of arousal through your cunt and you can feel the dampness of your panties as they press against your drenched slit.

Knowing that you’ll be replaying that sound in your mind later as you fuck yourself silly on your bed, you settle for rubbing your thighs together gently as you drop his cock from your fingers.

“Now,” wiping your come stained hand off on the inside of your nurse scrubs with a placating smile, you take a moment to pull his pants back up, “are you going to be a good patient for me, Eddie?”

Still attempting to hide how harshly he was breathing; his head moves slowly in an agreeing nod – his gaze refusing to meet your own. You can feel the embarrassment radiating off him, the shame at how easily his own body had betrayed him, how easily he had came with just a little attention to his aching length.

Ruffling his hair with your other hand, a delayed feeling of shock settles in your skin as you realise exactly what just happened, what you just did, but you play it off with a soft exhale and focus on the task of getting Edward back to his cell without incident.

[milaeth]

୨୧┊𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒. ( lando norris )

ꖛ ─ you’re reading part one ∿ part two ( coming soon )

✧.* pairings ─ lando norris x fem! football player! reader

✧.* genre ─ social media au ⨾ fluff

✧.* summary ─ in which you're a football player and after winning the champions league with your team, a secret admirer named "L" sends you flowers. everyone thinks it's your friend Lance, but what if it's someone else? perhaps someone who’s also a formula one driver and is known for being a big fan of yours...

✧.* face claim ─ jana fernández (she’s obv around the same age as lando in this)

✧.* warnings ─ none

✧.* mily’s thoughts ─ so sorry for the wait, i had to take a little break, but i’m back now! btw i’ve had this in my drafts for literal months, but i finally decided to post it so enjoy :)

yourusername

liked by lance_stroll, fcbfemeni and 753,965 others

yourusername We rocked the semi finals, now it’s time for the actual one! We can do this!!🔥

tagged: @/fcbfemeni @/wchampionsleague

view all 375 comments . . .

user1604 massive win! some sick tackles made by you today, wow. so proud of you guys🔵🔴

user693 LETS GOOOO

lance_stroll So proud of you💙❤️

yourusername Thank you Lance❤️

user4635 y’all seeing this???

user8476 the hearts…🤭

user4316 BARCELONA 🔛🔝

user1036 mother is mothering‼️

landonorris Congratulations, you guys were amazing!👏

liked by yourusername

user5837 YOU GUYS WILL ROCK THE FINAL

fcbfemeni best cb in laliga🔥🔵🔴

yourusername best club💙❤️

user3835 devoured and left no crumbs

user8547 who is that girl and why are lance and lando always in her likes and comments??

user9527 girl bffr💀

user1584 “that girl” is Y/n mf L/n.

user5264 @user8547 That is Y/n L/n! She plays for Barcelona’s women's team. She and Lance have been friends for quite a while and I guess he introduced her to the other drivers at some point because a lot of them follow her. She's been to a few races and sometimes still attends them when she's not playing for Barcelona! :)

2 May 2023

landonorris just added to their story . . .

liked by mclaren, fcbfemeni and 97,537 others

private replies to this story . . .

maxfewtrell Off to go see the love of your life play?👀

landonorris Shut up mate

maxfewtrell You didn’t deny it👀

landonorris Dude she doesn’t even know I exist

maxfewtrell Of course she knows you exist. She’s friends with Lance and therefore knows you from the grid.

landonorris Yeah okay but that’s about it. The first and only time we talked in person was in 2020 so she probably forgot about my existence.

maxfewtrell Well then change that😉

yourusername

liked by alexiaputellas, wchampionsleague and 1,846,053 others

yourusername This feels unreal🏆🔵🔴

tagged: @/fcbfemeni @/wchampionsleague

show top comments . . .

lance_stroll I’m literally so proud of you. We have to celebrate this, love you💙

yourusername Thank you so much, can’t wait to see you again💙

user836 @lance_stroll confess to her already🙄🙄

user638 i ship them so hard

landonorris This was the first football game I watched live and the atmosphere was amazing. Great win💙❤️

yourusername Our games always have an amazing atmosphere, it’s really worth it

landonorris I could tell! Today’s game won’t be the last one I’ll see live

yourusername I hope so :)

user9526 AYO WHAT IS GOING ON

9 May 2023

yourusername just added to their story . . .

liked by lance_stroll, landonorris and 352,942 others

11 May 2023

∿ taglist ─ @ay7ton @ch3rryknots @fdl305 @chrysanthemonza @remuslupinsbtch @kissesandmartinis @hevburn @noncannonships @quadrisl @dhhdhsiavdhaj @godessstela @hectorr-19 @layazul @bambispostsblog @ferrariloverr @xxenia14 @sigistarkstrom @asparklysoul @dinodumbass @tpwkstiles @our-love-world @sainzluvrr @ophcelia @mcmuppet ( here’s my taglist if you want to get tagged in my future work )

don’t forget to like, comment & reblog (it’s very much appreciated <3).

© milaeth | 2023

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 12

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

Roger: Kate, I got good news. A new Cursed One may have been found!

Kate: Hey, don’t just burst into my room without knocking!

I pulled the front of my blouse tightly over my chest and glared at Roger.

Roger: You were in the middle of changing? My bad.

(...You don’t look sorry at all)

Kate: It’s fine. Just give me a second.

I turned away from him and finished tying up my blouse. I sighed and turned back to face Roger.

Kate: So it’s true that a new Cursed One was found?

Roger: Yeah, it’s true. Last night, a young man named Lance Brown was arrested for sneaking into a butcher’s shop and eating the meat. Here’s the important part. When he was about to be arrested, he made all the police officers faint just by hugging them.

(That definitely sounds like a Cursed One’s ability…)

Kate: That’s not something the average human can do.

Roger: Yeah, that’s why I’m thinking there’s a high possibility it’s a Cursed One. Apparently when Victor heard about it, he paid for his release, and ordered him to provide information in return.

(As expected from Victor. Making the necessary investments…This is the palace’s Grim Reaper)

(Even so)

Kate: Hehe, you look happy, Roger.

Roger: Of course I am. Cursed ones are born all over the world, but there aren’t that many to begin with. Just meeting them is a valuable sample. Besides, plenty of Cursed Ones die without even realizing that they’re cursed.

From what I read in Roger’s research, because the existence of Cursed Ones isn’t public knowledge, many commit suicide because they think there’s something wrong with them, turn to crime, or get falsley accused like Alec was.

Kate: I think there’s a lot of happiness in this world we don’t know about. However, there’s some misfortunes that happen when you don’t know yourself. But… It would be a shock to suddenly go out and tell someone “You’re a Cursed One.”

Perhaps it was because of his rational personality, but Roger had a habit of being too direct.

A pro was that he was to the point and easy to understand. A con, well…that.

Roger: When I was a kid, I said something so suddenly to Alfons that it left a lasting mark on him. I won’t make the same mistake again. We’ll see how things go when we go see him today.

Kate: “We” are going to see him?

Roger: What are you so surprised for? You’re my assistant aren’t you?

(Well, according to the robin growth map…)

(I remember the promotion going from dogsbody -> dog -> assistant -> partner -> lover)

So I guess I’ve ranked up from dog to assistant.

Kate: Though I returned all the materials you let me borrow, I never said I read through them all…

Roger: You didn’t need to. You’re not the type to demand rewards or recognition for your work. But I know you’re a hard worker that never skimps on things.

That honestly makes me happy

Thank you +4 +4

I’m uncomfortable 

The sudden compliment made my cheeks warm.

Kate: …Thank…you.

Roger: Hm? I didn’t hear you.

Kate: Thank you! And don’t lie about your hearing.

Roger: Haha. Come on, I got a carriage waiting. Let’s go, Kate.

Kate: Wait for me Roger!

Clothes already changed, I rushed to shove my notebook and handkerchief into my bag before following him.

Kate: Huh, but…We can’t let outsiders know we’re Crown. What do we say to him?

Roger: Leave it to me. Well, I’ll need a lot of help from you too.

(Huh…—?)

--

And so Roger and I went to see the young man who was arrested last night for sneaking into a butcher’s shop.

Roger: Nice to meet you Lance Brown. I’m Roger Barel, a doctor. And this is…

Kate: I’m Doctor Roger’s a-assistant, Kate.

Roger: We’re employed by the royal family. Our job is to interview criminals and provide support in a healthy rehabilitation. Right, Kate?

Kate: Y-yes! So I hope we can chat without being too formal.

(Another appropriate lie, even if it is to hide Crown’s existence…)

While I was worrying over taking part in a lie, Lance hung his head apologetically.

Lance: No, I apologize for the trouble I’ve caused. They saved me by paying for my release. I’ll tell you whatever I can. I don’t want to commit crimes so carelessly again.

Roger: Then let’s start with drawing some blood…

Lance: Drawing?? Blood??

Roger: Yeah, I need to draw blood for mental stability.

(More appropriate lies)

However, knowing what Roger’s trying to achieve, I couldn’t blame him for lying.

After that, I continued to help Roger gather information on the Cursed One under the guise of an “interview”— 

(That’s…?)

Suddenly, I noticed a painting in Lance’s art studio.

Kate: Lance, you’re a painter, right?

Lance: Ah, yes. An amateur…

Taking a look around the room, I saw a couple of canvases on easels.

Kate: Most of the paintings are of landscapes. Ah, but there’s some portraits too…

My eyes were drawn to a portrait of a red-haired girl.

Kate: …Beautiful. Is she someone important to you, Lance?

Lance: Huh.

Kate: Ah, well…even with untrained eyes, I could tell a lot of care was put into the painting.

Lance: …Yes. The young lady is someone I like. She works at a bakery near the studio…

Lance pointed out to the street from his studio on the second floor.

Lance: I always watch her from here.

Roger: So you don’t even know this lady’s name?

Lance: I’m embarrassed to admit it…

The simple-looking Lance blushed.

Roger: You’re wasting time hesitating. Just go talk to her.

Kate: That’s terrible advice! This is why you’re inconsiderate.

Roger: Oh, as expected from a teacher who claims that she can teach me about being in love. How would you go about it, Kate?

Kate: Me?

(We’re not here to discuss this…)

Kate: I’d start with seasonal greetings and then gradually work my way up from there…

Roger: …Huh, that’s no good. With your method time will go by in an instant and they’ll end up in their graves before they know it.

Kate: Wha?!

Lance, who had been listening to our conversation with wide eyes suddenly burst into laughter.

Lance: Pfft, hahahaha! Ah, sorry. I was so nervous given how you work for royalty, but you two are so…charming.

Roger: I’m charming? Artists have a strange way of seeing things.

Kate: Hehe.

Lance: Sorry to stop the fun advice you’ve given me, but…I’m fine with the way things are. I’m just happy watching her from here. …If I just watch her, my love won’t hurt her.

Lance muttered and then turned to us with a smile.

Lance: But enough about me! I’m sorry for asking this out of the blue, you two are lovers, aren’t you?

Kate: Huh?

Lance: You two appear to be very close and you don’t act like coworkers…am I wrong?

Kate and Roger: You’re wrong!/That’s right.

Lance: Oh dear, who should I believe?

Kate: Ugh, what are you even talking about, Roger?

Roger: Don’t get all shy just because we’re in company.

I started arguing with Roger again in front of Lance, who just smiled in mild amusement.

Kate: Lance, don’t believe a thing he says. Believe me!

Lance: Ahahaha!

-- 

After chatting with Lance, we got back on the carriage to Crown Castle.

Roger: Hey, hey. Don’t pout. I’ll buy you some jerky.

(Jerky is a treat for Ale…)

Kate: Stop treating me like a dog. Geez…you’re always saying the most random things.

The pointless arguments continue all the way back to Crown Castle, but…apart from that, Lance sincerely answered our questions.

Kate: Roger, Lance really is a Cursed One, isn’t he?

Roger: I haven’t seen his ability in practice yet so I can’t say for sure. Moreover, even if you saw the ability, you can’t say for sure what the curse is.

Kate: Why is that?

Roger: You know why this has become known as “Fairytale Curses”. Novelists and playwrights around the world created works based on existing “Cursed Ones”. It’s said to be what started them off.

~~ Flashback start ~~

Roger: It’s said that the origins of various fairytales were based on these “Cursed Ones”. But nowadays, it’s reversed and we refer to it as the “Fairytale Curse”.

~~ End flashback ~~

(That’s what I was told when we first met)

Kate: Um, so…let’s say Lance is cursed. Are you saying we don’t know if the curse exists in a fairytale?

Roger: That’s right. As expected from my assistant, quick on the uptake.

He ruffled my hair.

(It’s annoying how happy I get even when this is something you do to a dog…)

It felt like he was training me and while I hung my head feeling frazzled, Roger called out to me.

Roger: So…What do you think? Anything about this make you suspicious? 

(Roger felt it too)

Kate: Lance was arrested because he was found sneaking into a butcher’s shop at night and eating the meat right? But Lance didn’t seem like the type to so easily commit a crime. Besides, the paintings on display had papers taped on them indicating that they were to be sold. As we were chatting, he brought up receiving commissions. So he’s not living in poverty…

Roger: And look at the paint. It has the royal warrant of appointment.

Roger held up a used tube of blue paint.

Kate: Huh, you just took that without asking? That’s wrong…

Roger: Wrong? We’re still villains in Crown. We can’t protect anything by doing things the right way.

--

The moment we arrived back at the castle, we went straight to Lord Elbert’s room.

I thought that someone like Lord Elbert, who collected beautiful things, would understand the value of the paint.

Elbert: …This paint certainly is a first-class product of the Royal Warrant. Also…I heard that Lance Brown’s paintings have caught the eyes of nobility.

(Lance is a famous painter…)

Elbert: As you two have discussed, I don’t believe he’s struggling financially.

Kate: I thought so…

When I guess turned out to be correct, new suspicions formed.

Kate: Then why did he steal from the butcher’s shop that night?

Elbert: If he is a cursed one…Then perhaps it has to do with his curse.

Kate: His curse…?

Elbert: The sin of a Cursed One is far more powerful than you could possibly imagine. My cursed sin is greed…Sometimes I crave and crave, and the rational side of me can’t resist the urges. If he’s also tormented by his own sin…

Roger: I’m betting on a high possibility of that too.

Elbert: You haven’t told him that he’s probably a Cursed One, have you?

Seeing our expressions, Elbert’s long eyelashes lowered melancholically. 

Elbert: …If that’s the case, then you should tell him as soon as possible. I believe self-awareness is a way to protect yourself.

Roger: Yeah, I will. Thanks El, you were a big help.

Kate: Thank you, Lord Elbert.

Elbert: No problem. Roger’s done a lot for me.

Ocean blue eyes looked out at the sky through the window.

Elbert: It’s going to rain…tonight.

What Elbert said was true. It started raining that night—and the day after.

We then heard that Lance had passed away.

Next

[monzabee]

kiss it better – ls18

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where a crazy idea turns out to be the best possible thing for you and Lance.

Pairing: lance stroll x reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: fluff, kissing and other than that none? might have a few curse words but otherwise very tame

Request: “okay so i’m obsessed with the lance stroll fake dating to lovers/friends to lovers but it’s always the reader asking. would you write lance asking reader to attend gala/wedding or something as his date and then the feels start to come up from both sides? smut, fluff, angst, wherever your imagination takes you x”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i did not expect to get this excited for a certain canadian man, but here we are!! now that i had the pleasure of writing about lance, i hope you guys know that more is to come, and thank you anon for the request!! i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

You love slow afternoons, is what you realise as your fingers move out of their own volition on your keyboard as you try your best to finish your draft on time so that you can send it to your agent. Lance is on the couch next to you, his focus on his phone, rather than the show he has on your TV – which he ignores as he continuously texts with the person on the other end and lets out lengthy sighs every few seconds.

After what it must be the hundredth sigh of the evening, you give him a pointed look over the glasses resting on your face, “Okay, this is getting ridiculous.”

“What?” Lance asks, his shoulders rising in a half-hearted shrug. He glances up from his phone, his brows furrowing slightly as he registers your statement.

“You've been sighing and moping around for the past hour,”  you say, your tone a mix of annoyance and concern. “What's going on? Is something wrong with the ‘Real Housewives of Beverly Hills’?”

Lance sighs again, louder this time, as if to emphasize his frustration. He puts his phone down on the coffee table and runs a hand through his hair, tousling it further. "It's nothing," he mutters, his voice tinged with a hint of annoyance, “and the housewives are fine, not Kim, though. I think Lisa Rinna is about to break the wine glass, again.”

“You’ve watched the Amsterdam trip how many times, now?” You ask him as you get up from your place at the dinner table and grab your wine glass before making your way over to him on the couch and settle next to him. “Forget it, just tell me what’s wrong so that we can get your breathing back to normal.” 

“Chloe is what’s wrong,” Lance mutters, turning his phone screen towards you to give you a better look at the messages between him and his sister, “she is bugging me to bring someone to the wedding.”

You tilt your head to the side, “I thought you were going to take Sandra.”

“It was Sarah.” He returns your look with a pointed one of his own, “We kind of broke up, but now she want me to find another date.”

“So? Just find someone, Lance.” You give him a funny look as you fix the way your glasses are situated on your face and read the texts between the two siblings as you slightly lean over your best friend sitting next to you.

He sneakily places his arm around your shoulder in almost a reflex kind of way, as he argues, “I can’t just bring someone to my sister’s wedding, Y/N, she’s going to have the pictures up on her wall for the rest of her life or something.” He swats your hand away with a weak slap as you try to coo over his response, claiming that he is too sweet for this world when he asks, “Who are you bringing to the wedding, anyway?”

“No one,” you shrug, earning yourself a look from the man sitting next to you, “I’m not a Stroll, Lance, I don’t need to bring a date – ergo, I won’t.”

His eyes narrow on the edge as his voice comes off  doubtful, “So I have to find someone to bring to the wedding but you can choose not to?” The nod you give him makes him let out a loud groan, making you giggle as he adds, “Is it too late to ask your parents to adopt me?”

“How more dramatic can you be?” You laugh into the edge of your wine glass as you take a small sip, and then think for a moment as you roll your lips together. “Just ask someone you know to come with you, they’ll get a nice weekend out of it and you won’t disappoint Chloe.”

“You say as if it’s easy,” Lance sighs, but his eyes take on a mischievous glint as you realise he’s had one of his bright ideas and the next words prove that it’s, in fact, one of them. “Be my date.”

Your voice is squeaky as you get out, “Excuse me?”

“I need a date,” he point to himself, and then points the same finger to you, “you don’t have a date. I don’t want to take some random girl off my contacts list to my sister’s wedding, so it makes sense.”

“I- I can’t be your date, Lance!” You exclaim, jumping back slightly to shoot him a full on glare. “You’re my friend,” you emphasise the word, “my best friend.”

“Why not? It’s better than going with a random date.” He argues, “Plus, we’ll tell everyone that we’re trying to work things out and after the wedding we’ll tell them it didn’t work out – problem solved.”

“Problem not solved,” you contend. “I don’t want to lie to everyone, Lance, especially not to our families.”

“You’re not saying no.” He sings, a small smirk playing on his lips.

You give him a light shove as you mumble, “Shut up, I’m serious.”

“So am I, Y/N.” He sighs as he takes your free hand into his, which makes you involuntarily drag your index finger towards his palm, something you used to do to help him calm down when he was dealing with his wrists at the start of the season. It makes him smile softly at you when he realises it’s a thing that calms you down as much as it calms him down. “It’s not lying, it’s us.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your voice is lower than before, but you can’t put your finger as to whether it’s because you’re confused or something about the nature of this whole arrangement is scary to you – you pray that it’s the first, but something in your gut tells you it’s the latter.

The smile he gives you in return to your question can only be described as ‘warm’ – it’s soft, and it makes his eyes crinkle, and it’s just so him. “It means that people won’t question how we ended up together, especially our families.”

What he’s saying and suggesting makes sense, you realise. He needs a date and you can help your friend out – plus, it would be good not to hear your mother complain about how you’re single in your twenties for a change. You try to think whether you’d even think about actually accepting to fake date someone if the person asking wasn’t your best friend in the whole world. But with Lance giving you an expectant look and looking so cosy on your couch, coupled with the two glasses of wine you’ve had as an incentive to write, you find yourself giving the man sitting beside you a nod of your approval.

“Fine,” you sigh, “but if this blows up all in our face, I’m blaming you and telling everyone you forced me.”

“Pfft,” he scoffs, pulling you into a side hug as the fighting noises from your TV blends into the background, “it’s going to be great, you just wait and see.”

Weddings are epitome of romance in every conceivable way. And Chloe Stroll’s wedding? It is safe to say that her wedding is the level of magical that fairy tales aspire to achieve. Ever since you’ve stepped foot in Italy, you’re captivated by the views and the atmosphere of having all the people there for such a special occasion. The wedding venue is a stunning villa nestled in the rolling hills of Tuscany, with lush gardens and a breathtaking view of the countryside. Soft music floats through the air as guests mingle and soak in the romantic ambiance. Turns out Lance was right, after all, and both of your parents are ecstatic that you showed up together – and no one bats an eye when he wraps his arm around you to help you onto the boat, or how his hand linger a bit longer on your hip.

Another thing people don’t seem to focus? How his eyes seem to focus on your every move as you dance with one of Scotty’s cousins, or is he one of his friends? Frankly, Lance doesn’t care about the specifics. He is more focused on the way the man you’re dancing with makes you throw your head back in laughter and the genuine smile that lights up your face. Lance watches from a distance, his heart swelling with a mixture of happiness because of how happy you look, and a touch of jealousy because it is not with him. But seeing you so carefree and radiant in someone else's arms stirs up emotions he can't quite ignore. But all of that is thrown right out the metaphorical window once you excuse yourself from your new friend, and find yourself back to him – basically throwing yourself into his arms and asking him to dance with you.

“I don’t know sweetheart, weren’t you just dancing with your new friend?” He asks, and though he immediately regrets the snarky words leaving his mouth, which reflect all his jealousy at the moment, you just smile up at him with the softest smile he’s ever seen.

Instead of lingering on his words, you let out a small giggle, “I can’t slow dance with him, Lance, he is not my date!”

“Oh,” he murmurs, “right.”

“So, will you dance with me?” You ask him again, your voice filled with more excitement than before. Your lips form a small pout as you add, “Please?”

His eyes linger on your expression for a moment, and he links his fingers through yours as he leads you onto the dance floor to join the couples who already started dancing. “Let’s go,” as soon as the words leave his mouth, a small smile is quick to overtake his face as you let out a small squeal and a giggle.

As the two of you find your place on the dance floor, Lance pulls you closer, his hand resting gently on your waist. The soft melody of a romantic song fills the air, setting the perfect mood for a slow dance. You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his embrace and suddenly you realise it’s much easier to focus on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat rather than the song which is playing on the background.

Lost in the moment, Lance whispers softly into your ear, "You look absolutely stunning tonight, you know that?" You can tell his words are filled with sincerity, and he makes you feel all the admiration he feels for you at that moment.

You give him a playful smile as you do the one thing Lance absolutely hates and answer his question with a question of your own, “Yeah? You like my dress?”

“You know I do,” he shakes his head, lips unable to stop themselves from forming a smile.

Sighing out a satisfied sound, you let fingers occupy themselves with the short strand of hairs on this nape. “Well good, Chloe said you’d appreciate the colour

– through jealousy is not a good colour on you.”

Lance chuckles, the sound rumbling against your cheek as you continue to sway together. "Chloe knows me too well," he replies, his voice filled with warmth, "I’ll just have to thank her for the dress."

“You better,” you scoff, your breath hitting his neck in the process, “it was an absolute pain to put it on.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” his fingers smooth over a crease near your hip, “I’ll help you get it off.”

You pause for a moment, the playful banter fading into a charged silence as his words hang in the air. The intensity of his gaze meets yours, and you can feel the shift in the atmosphere, a magnetic pull drawing you closer together. Your heart skips a beat, and you find yourself lost in the colour of his eyes. There's an undeniable chemistry between you, one that the two of you have been ignoring for a while, and one that has been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

With a playful smile that eventually finds its way on your lips, you raise your head slightly to get a better look at him, “You’re drunk, Lance,” you announce.

Lance's grip on you tightens ever so slightly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along your back. “What is it they say? Drunk words, sober thoughts.” Another squeal leaves your lips as he slowly dips you down, but you know he won’t let you fall.

As he pulls you up again and presses his forehead against yours, and as his nose nudge against yours which causes both of you to release breathy laughs, your voice is almost pleading, “Lance, I–”

“I know, sweetheart,” his voice is soft as he mumbles, and he repeats himself after dragging out a deep breath, “I know “I know but you deserve something better.”

But the question of what something better might be lingers in your mind.

It’s almost the morning when the wedding celebrations come to a pause, and you quickly find yourself on your way back to the hotel with Lance. Hand in hand, you walk along the dimly lit streets, the sound of your footsteps echoing softly in the night. The city is calm and peaceful, its beauty enhanced by the memories you've created during the wedding festivities. Lance steals occasional glances at you, a gentle smile playing on his lips, as if trying to etch this moment into his memory – you try to act as if you don’t notice, but the same gentle smile finds itself onto your lips every time you catch his eyes on you. As a true gentleman, he lets you lean against him in the elevator, knowing that you’re probably more tired than him because of your choice of shoes.

The soft hum of the elevator and the comforting embrace of Lance lull you into a sense of tranquillity. But all of that calmness is gone once the elevator stops at your floor and Lance pulls you closer as he walks you to your room. With each step, you become more aware of Lance's presence beside you. His warmth radiates, providing a comforting reassurance amidst the late-night stillness. The soft light from the hallway casts a warm glow on his face, highlighting the gentle curves and lines that make him uniquely him. You think the anticipation might actually kill you in the moment, but like a true gentleman, Lance takes out your room key and hands it to you – but even in that simple moment, you feel your entire body lighting up with something more for your best friend.

Your breath hitches once again that evening when Lance’s hands gently cup your face, but he lets you go once he presses his lips lightly on your forehead and gently rests your forehead against yours. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

You feel your heart drop as he pulls away from you, all the adrenaline you’ve been feeling slowly dissipates. A mix of emotions washes over you as Lance pulls away and leaves you standing there, your heart feeling heavy in your chest. The brief moment of intimacy between you leaves you longing for more, and you find yourself mumbling, “I thought I deserve ‘something better’.”

“Y/N,” Lance’s voice is soft, but you’re quick to cut him off.

“I- I just thought you might’ve been talking about yourself, you know?” You let out a nervous chuckle as you shake your head, “It doesn’t matter, it’s presumptuous – oh my god I am an egomaniac.” Taking a small step towards him, you give him the world’s most awkward hug, and slowly start to pull away.

Without you knowing behind his horrified look, Lance has the opportunity to put his quick decision-making skills to test. He knows that he can either let you go, which means the two of you will stay friends, or he can actually do what he wanted to do for a very long time – which has the potential to blow up in his face. So, this time he takes a step towards you, and manages to grab your wrist in time to pull you against himself. Pressing his lips onto yours in a haste kiss, he manages to take your breath away for the second time that night, and you realise what’s actually happening after a small brain malfunction. For a moment, you're both suspended in that kiss, your hearts pounding in sync. It's a moment of pure vulnerability and undeniable passion, a culmination of unspoken desires and the unravelling of emotions that have been building between you for far too long. But you can feel him smiling into the kiss as your lips start to move against his. He tries to pull away, but you chase his lips in what you can only describe as hunger, and both of you let out breathy chuckles as you manage to capture his lips in a kiss once again.

When you finally break apart, gasping for air, your eyes meet Lance's. His grip on your wrist tightens, as if he’s afraid to let you go, and in an attempt to calm his worries, you snake your hand into his and drag your index finger towards the center of his palm. “I meant what I said,” he says, breathily, “you deserve something better.”

“Lance,” you almost seem to grumble his name, “you are the ‘something better’.”

“Well I hoped you’d say that.” He nods his head, and throws you over his shoulder to walk towards his own hotel door.

A mixture of surprise and laughter escaping your lips, you playfully swat at his back as you try to urge him to put you down, but he just chuckles and continues on his mission. As the door to Lance's room closes behind you, the world outside fades away, and you find yourself enveloped in a bubble of anticipation and excitement. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Lance gently sets you down on your feet. The room is dimly lit, casting a romantic glow that accentuates the chemistry between you. The air is charged with unspoken desires and a magnetic pull that draws you closer together. Lance takes a step towards you, his gaze filled with longing and affection. Without a word, he reaches out to cup your face in his hands, his touch sending shivers down your spine. Your breath catches in your throat as he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender and passionate kiss.

In that moment, all doubts and uncertainties melt away, replaced by the overwhelming certainty that you've found something truly special. It's a love that has been quietly brewing beneath the surface, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal itself. As your lips move together in a dance of shared desire, time seems to stand still. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you in this intimate and electrifying connection. Every touch, every caress, ignites a fire within you, and you find yourself getting lost in the depths of Lance's embrace.

When you finally break apart, your eyes lock, and a shared understanding passes between you. It's a silent promise, a mutual agreement to explore this newfound love and see where it leads. With a smile that speaks volumes, Lance intertwines his fingers with yours, pulling you closer as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “I promised you I’d take your dress off, didn’t I?”

[scrollonso]

Ghost — Strollonso (ft. Nikola)

@boxboxluckybird saw it first + an add-on to First Kiss

The night was quiet, except for the soft hum of the wind brushing against the windows. Fernando sat at the kitchen table, staring at a half-empty glass of whiskey he wasn’t sure he wanted to finish. The divorce had left his house emptier than it had ever been, the silence suffocating, a constant reminder of everything that had gone wrong. Fourteen years Fernando had spent married to Lance. Seventeen years they'd had a son together. All for nothing.

The sound of footsteps broke the stillness, tentative at first, then more deliberate. Fernando looked up to see Nikola standing in the doorway, his face pale, his eyes red-rimmed and glistening with tears. Fernando’s heart clenched. He knew that look. It was the same one Lance had whenever the world felt like it was crumbling around him — whenever the world was crumbling around him.

“Nik?” Fernando’s voice was softer than he expected, his usual sharpness dulled by concern. “What’s wrong, mijo?”

Nikola didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped into the room, his arms wrapped tightly around himself like he was trying to hold himself together — trying to hold the closest thing he had to Lance. His lower lip trembled, and when he finally spoke, his voice was raw and cracked.

“Do I look like him?”

Fernando blinked, startled by the question. “What?”

“Do I look like him?” Nikola repeated, his voice breaking. He stepped closer, his movements shaky, like he was being pulled forward by some invisible force. “Is that why you… why you treat me like this? Why you barely look at me? Because I remind you of him?”

“Nikola, mi amor, that’s not—” Fernando started, but Nikola cut him off with a sudden, anguished outburst.

“¡Ya basta! Don’t lie to me, Papa!” Nikola’s voice rose, thick with emotion. “You can’t stand to look at me, can you? Because I look like the one person in the world who loved you unconditionally, and you bailed on him. You left him because you were fucking scared!”

Fernando’s breath caught in his throat. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come.

“Scared of this,” Nikola continued, tears streaming down his cheeks as he motioned towards himself, convinced he was the one that drove his fathers apart. “Of having a family. Of having me. Having me with a man. You were so scared that you ran away from the best thing that ever happened to you, and now… now I’m here, and you can’t even look at me without seeing him, without remembering what you lost.”

“Nikola Díaz. Stop—” Fernando tried again, but Nikola wouldn’t let him.

“Are you ashamed of me?” Nikola asked, his voice trembling, every word cutting deeper than the last. “Is that it? Am I the reminder of everything you couldn’t handle? Everything you didn’t want? Do you hate me because of him? Because I'm a Stroll?”

Fernando stood abruptly, the metal of the chair beneath him scraping harshly against the floor. “Nikola, stop it!” he snapped, his voice cracking under the weight of his own guilt.

But Nikola didn’t flinch. He just stood there, shaking, his eyes locked on his father’s, pleading for an answer. “Do you love me? Did you love him?” he whispered. “Because it doesn’t feel like it, Papa."

Fernando felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. He took a step toward his son, then hesitated, his hands trembling at his sides. How could he explain the storm of emotions that had consumed him since the divorce? The shame, the regret, the unbearable weight of knowing he’d failed the two people he’d loved most in the world?

“You look like him,” Fernando finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. Nikola flinched as though struck, but Fernando kept going, his words tumbling out in a desperate attempt to bridge the growing chasm between them. “You look like him, and it kills me every single day because I can’t look at you without thinking about how much I screwed up. How much I hurt him. How much I hurt you.”

Nikola’s breath hitched, but he didn’t say anything, his eyes wide and shining with fresh tears.

“I’m not ashamed of you,” Fernando continued, his voice thick with emotion. “I could never be ashamed of you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Nikola. But every time I see you, I see him. I see the man I loved more than anything, the man I let down because I was too scared to face what we had, what we could’ve been.”

Tears spilled down Fernando’s cheeks now, his composure cracking under the weight of his confession. “I was scared, yes. Scared of being a father. Scared of being with a man. Scared of failing you both. And in the end, that fear made me do exactly what I was afraid of. I failed. I failed him, and I failed you.”

Nikola’s lips quivered, and for a moment, he just stood there, staring at his father. Then, with a sob, he rushed forward, throwing his arms around Fernando and burying his face in his chest. Fernando froze for half a second before wrapping his arms tightly around his son, holding him like he was afraid to let go.

“I’m sorry,” Fernando choked out, his voice muffled against Nikola’s hair. “I’m so sorry, hijo. For everything. For hurting you. For not being there. For making you feel like you weren’t enough. You are enough. You’ve always been enough.”

Nikola clung to him, his sobs wracking his small frame, and for the first time in years, Fernando let himself cry too. They stood there in the kitchen, father and son, broken but holding onto each other, trying to piece together the fragments of what had been shattered.

They stayed locked in the embrace, their shared grief filling the space that silence had once suffocated. Fernando’s grip on Nikola tightened, as if by holding on to his son, he could make up for all the lost time, all the mistakes that had created this chasm between them. The warmth of Nikola’s trembling body in his arms was a reminder that despite everything, he was still here, still his son, and still someone Fernando had a chance to fight for.

After a long moment, Nikola’s sobs began to subside, his breathing slowing into uneven hiccups. He pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at his father with tear-streaked cheeks and swollen eyes. “Do you think he hates you?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Fernando’s heart twisted painfully. The question hit him harder than any of Nikola’s earlier accusations because it was the one he had been asking himself for years. He sighed, brushing a hand over Nikola’s hair, smoothing down the wild curls that reminded him so much of Lance.

“I don’t know,” he admitted honestly, his voice heavy with regret. “I hope not. I hope… I hope he knows how much I loved him — how much I love him — even if I didn’t show it the way I should have. Even if I messed everything up.”

Nikola searched his father’s face, his expression a mixture of sorrow and something Fernando couldn’t quite place. “I don’t think he hates you,” Nikola said after a moment, his voice fragile but sincere. “He never talked badly about you. Even when things were bad, even after the divorce, he always said you loved me. That you loved us.”

Fernando swallowed hard, his throat tightening. “He said that?”

Nikola nodded. “He never wanted me to think you didn’t care. Even when I was mad at you, he… he always defended you.”

Fernando closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the weight of Nikola’s words. Lance’s forgiveness, his enduring belief in Fernando’s love, was more than he felt he deserved. And yet, it was the lifeline he didn’t know he’d been waiting for.

“I wish I could fix it,” Fernando whispered, his voice breaking again. “I wish I could take it all back and do it right. For him. For you.”

Nikola’s lip trembled, but he reached out, placing his hand over Fernando’s. “Maybe you can’t fix the past,” he said softly, “but you can still fix us.”

Fernando looked at his son, his chest aching with a mixture of pain and hope. He saw Lance in Nikola’s eyes, but for the first time, it didn’t feel like a curse. It felt like a second chance. A chance to love his son the way Lance would have wanted. The way they both deserved.

“I’ll try,” Fernando promised, his voice steady despite the tears still clinging to his lashes. “I’ll do everything I can to make it better, Nik. I swear to you, mijo.”

Nikola nodded, his fingers tightening around his father’s hand. “That’s all I wanted, Papa. For you to try.”

They stood in the kitchen for what felt like an eternity, the hum of the wind outside now a soft lullaby to their shared pain and tentative healing. When Nikola finally let go, his movements hesitant but lighter, he wiped at his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

“Can I stay here tonight?” he asked quietly, his voice small, like he was afraid Fernando might say no.

Fernando’s heart broke all over again at the thought of Nikola feeling like he had to ask. “Of course,” he said firmly. “This is your home, Nik. It always will be.”

Nikola gave him a weak smile, the first hint of light Fernando had seen in his son’s eyes all night. Without another word, he turned and headed toward the living room, curling up on the couch the way he used to when he was little and afraid of the dark.

Fernando watched him go, his heart heavy but filled with a sense of purpose he hadn’t felt in years. He grabbed a blanket from the hallway closet and draped it over Nikola, pressing a kiss to his son’s temple as he whispered, “Te amo, mijo. Always.”

Nikola murmured something in return, his voice slurred with exhaustion, and Fernando smiled faintly as he returned to the kitchen. The whiskey sat untouched on the table, but this time, Fernando didn’t pick it up. Instead, he poured it down the sink and stood there for a moment, staring out into the night.

The wind brushed against the windows again, but this time it didn’t feel so suffocating. It felt like a reminder that life was still moving, still offering chances to make things right. And for the first time in a long time, Fernando felt like he was ready to take it.

[nerdy-nook]

Favorite nuerodivergant headcannons for Voltron LD?

Ooo I like this one! I’m going to do neurodivergent headcanons as well as mental health headcanons because I don’t think all of the characters are neurodivergent. Ok let’s start!

Voltron Paladins:

Shiro: He canonically has PTSD, although the show stopped focusing on it after season 2. So I’m going to keep that. He definitely has panic attacks (as we have seen) but has a good control on his triggers. He has to, to keep himself and his team safe in battle.

Keith: BPD and autism you cannot change my mind. You can’t tell me that after all the shit that poor kid went through in his childhood that he doesn’t have BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder). He checks a lot off the boxes. The sudden mood changes, aggression, abandonment issues, and feelings of worthlessness or inadequacy. As for the autism he mainly experiences sensory issues surrounding sounds and touch. We all know about his social skills. He also has insomnia.

Hunk: I think Hunk has GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder). He’s had it since he was in elementary school. It mainly consists of catastrophizing and physical symptoms. His heart races, and he sweats a lot.

Lance: He has combined ADHD. A classic case as a kid: SUPER hyperactive, couldn’t sit still, and couldn’t focus. His processing speed is a lot slower making it harder for him to learn in an average school environment. This made him self conscious growing up, thinking he was stupid. It’s something he still struggles with.

Pidge: Best girl disease! Jk. She has ADHD, autism, and is also a fellow insomniac. This girl will hyperfixate and work herself for hours. The team comes to do routine checks on her when she’s researching to make sure she rests. She isn’t really hyperactive but does have a hard time staying still. Catch her rotating clockwise as she types away on her laptop.

MFE Pilots (this is self indulgent):

James: With his strong sense of justice I can see him having a little bit of the ‘tism. I used to headcanon him as having BPD as well but now I’m more leaning towards Bipolar II. This goes a long with some other headcanons I have for him, I’ll make a hc sheet for him soon.

Ina: She has autism. She was diagnosed at 3 years old. Her parents were tipped off by the fact that she was selectively mute when she was younger.

Nadia: Also has ADHD She mainly struggles with her impulsivity issues. She has a really hardy time keeping organized. Did someone say organized chaos? Her rooms always a little bit of a mess but she knows where everything is. Once she sets something down she can never find it.

Ryan: I literally can’t think of anything for him, he’s just a neurotypical guy. Nothing wrong with that.

Thanks for the ask BTW!!

[formulaforza]

Haiiiiiii i love your writing, could i request Lance Stroll with the prompt the first initial kiss being a simple peck, then they immediately go back in for a stronger, more passionate one?? I feel like that’s very him vibes.

—nowhere in particular

pairing: lance stroll x reader wc: 1.1k summ. everything with lance is so damn... friendly.

It’s been nearly three months of “Oh, Lance and I? We’re… we’re nothing,” followed by a pursed smile on your lips and an eye roll from whoever was bold enough to ask you. Three months, some eighty-something days of we’re nothing, when the two of you were most certainly fucking something. 

You weren’t dating, that was for sure. And you weren’t fucking, either. So, to anyone else it might look like you were nothing. But even if you thought you were crazy—the dozen or so people who seem to ask you about him every time they see the two of you interact is enough proof that you really are something. 

It’s hard to place exactly what it is, but it falls somewhere on the fault line between friends and dating, moving through like with the promise not to date anyone else, but without the balls to just date each other. 

It’s not that you don’t have the balls, it’s that you refuse to. You’ve always been a firm believer in him making the first move. You just never thought you’d be as desperate for someone to make the move as you are for Lance to just up and get it over with already.

Always a firm believer in the guy making the first move, but christ. Three months of waiting, and you’re about two days away from reaching your breaking point. 

Lance sits next to you on the flannel blanket in the park. The “friendly flannel blanket,” as he’d said shortly after proposing the idea—made skittish by your lack of response within the five second window he gave you to do so— “that I always have, like, in my car, y’know.” You couldn’t see him through the telephone lines, but you could imagine it, the way his hand nervously ran over the back of his neck. 

He was always adorable like that, all nervous and fidgety when you did anything more than give him the time of day. It’s cute. You’ve always thought it was cute when he was nervous, because he spends the rest of the time so stupidly confident. You like that you can make him nervous, but it seems like you’ve made him too nervous. 

Because he sits next to you on the friendly flannel blanket with the friendly picnic he’d prepared and the friendly cake he’d brought with carefully placed raspberries and the friendly bottle of red wine. You sit next to him, wearing the friendly hoodie he’d pulled over and off his head when you shuddered with the breeze, a friendly centimeter of space between your crossed legs and his wild brown hair, your eyes fixed to his friendly pink lips when he talks. You want to scream—fuck friends, Lance. Fuck friendly, and just kiss me already. 

Lance’s head, meanwhile, fucking spins. He’s such an idiot, he thinks, can’t stop himself from speaking—from feeling the need to inform you (lie to you) that everything he touches is friendly. There’s nothing friendly about the way he feels about you, but his stupid fucking mouth is too worried that making that fact known is only going to screw him over—that he’ll mess it up enough that not only is he not dating you, but now he’s not even your friend. 

Because… well. You’re you—all pretty hair and pretty lips and pretty smile and pretty skin and pretty personality. You’re soft when he’s brash and you’re brash when he’s soft and nothing ever feels balanced unless you’re the one balancing it. 

And now he’s lying here, on this thick, itchy blanket, just wondering when you’re finally going to have enough of him and his inability to just. To just kiss you, and let the rest of the world make sense. 

You eat, and you talk, and you make him laugh—you’re always making him laugh harder than he should. Anyone who watches probably thinks he’s a total fool, head over feet and half in-love with the same girl everyone else would be half in-love with. No joke in the history of the entire world has been funny enough to elicit the laugh you hear from him every time you crack one. 

He’s carefully slicing the cake when you swipe your finger through the white frosting, wiping the sugary substance off on the tip of his nose with a giggle. His head shoots up while you do it, catches your eyes and the completely human way they crinkle when you laugh, the way your lashes settle when you smile, and all he can think is that you just look so pretty.

You’re so pretty, and he doesn’t even have time to talk himself out of it, because he’s kissing you—quick, simple, like he was trying to shut you up. It’s a peck, nothing more, and certainly not the way he wanted to kiss you for the first time. He can’t believe he just managed to fuck up the first time he kissed you—that he definitely just made certain the first time was the last time. He’d strangle himself if he could.

“I’m sorry,” he’s saying before you can even process what just happened. “You just… I’m sorry.”

A smile pulls on your lips, and your cheeks ache from how much the muscles have been used this afternoon. “It’s okay,” you nod.

“You… there’s frosting on your nose,” he says, wiping the remnants of your swipe off his nose.

“I don’t care,” you say. “Kiss me like you mean it.”

His eyes shoot up before his head does, like he’s checking if you’re being serious or not. You are. You’re dead serious. The kind of quick peck a middle aged wife stuck in a miserable marriage gives to her middle aged husband will not be the first move you've been waiting three months for. If he’s going to kiss you with frosting on his nose, he better do it right. 

He makes up for it, though, when he wipes the frosting from your nose, licks it clean off his thumb and slots his hands on either side of your jaw, pulling you to him like he’s been waiting to do it for ninety days. When his lips finally meet yours, the rest of the park falls into the background. The sweetness of the frosting lingers, blending with the warmth of his lips. This is not a peck—this is a declaration, a revelation. 

“Better?” He says, his forehead warm against yours. 

You nod, smiling. “Much better,” and then you kiss him again like time might run out, even though you both know it won’t.

[verystrxxwberry]

Hello Alex, I hope you're doing very well! I think your writing is incredible because you manage to convey the exact essence of the character, so I would like to ask you for an angst hc of Nevra first night since Erika entered the crystal. I'm not fluent in English so I apologize for any mistakes, have a great day and take care!

ELDARYA; the first night Erika entered the crystal

♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: How did Nevra experience the first night Erika entered the crystal, sfw, angst, eldarya TO. ↝ 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Oh my, it’s the first time someone ever tells me that, and I am very glad you think that! I do my best to write as good as I can the character because I fear doing something weird with the character (plus they aren’t my oc so it is different: probably the way I think about them in a situation is different than the opinion of another person) but anyway! Enjoy it.

♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•.

The first night was the hardest. Nevra arrived as quickly as possible to the crystal room, but still he arrived too late to help anyone. His best friend was lying down on the floor, his body surrounded by blood and not showing any answer at the sounds around him. Still, Nevra had the last hope of Valkyon being alive- he had to be alive. He didn’t mind getting his hands dirty by Valkyon’s blood, he shook him, tried pcr on him, he yelled at the body. But that body was empty already.

His tears came out without control, and he didn’t even mind because he was too busy trying to accept what his eyes were seeing. It had to be a nightmare. He couldn’t believe it.

Nevra turned around, gazing at Miiko, who was being attended by Eweleïn, but there were no signs of Leiftan or Erika, so he started yelling their names.

He wandered around the crystal room searching for them both, desperate and with a deep pain clawing at his heart. Even if his face was filled with tears, he had an expression of rage. His fists were clenched, prepared to punch Lance if he had the chance to find him.

But when they got told that Erika and Leiftan got trapped in the crystal, he truly hoped for it to break again. This shouldn’t be happening. He approached the crystal and hugged it, screaming if they could hear him.

Come on, the last conversation he had with Erika was to drink from her blood. She allowed him to keep the fight with energy, and he had to do something to help her too. But he couldn’t do anything.

He sobbed against the crystal like a little kid. His emotions were dominating every sense and control in his body. Nevra didn’t mind if there were people from the town watching him breakdown over that, at the end it was normal to break down after seeing the consequences of a war.

It was Ezarel who separated Nevra from the crystal and told Karenn to distract him outside. Nevra was reluctant to let go of the crystal, it stole his lover, his Erika. That place also held the last thing he would remember about his best friend, Valkyon.

All the time he remained outside the general headquarters, he spent it embracing Karenn and crying in her arms. He was desperate and his words went from “I can’t do this anymore” to “this is so unfair.” But he couldn’t change the past.

When the night came, Nevra went to the crystal room, which was still destroyed but finally empty. The silence on it was terrifying, it felt like all the color he saw around in his life was suddenly gone: everything was gray and carried the heavy weight of death. Even if his chest was heavy of remembering what just happened hours before, he decided to stay there. He sat on the floor, looking up at the crystal with the tiny hope of seeing any sign from Erika or Leiftan.

He blamed himself, thinking that he would probably have been able to stop Lance if he just came minutes before. He could have saved Valkyon. He could have saved Erika and Leiftan from being trapped in the crystal. But thinking that way… he could have saved Mery, he could have saved Ykhar as well. He could have saved so many people yet he was always late. And why was he feeling bad over Leiftan? He hated feeling sad for losing him after all the stuff he did, but he couldn’t help it. There was something about all the time he spent with Leiftan that made him miss him.

Nevra heard steps behind him but didn’t even bother to look around. If it was someone willing to stab him, he’d gratefully accept… but no. It was Ezarel who offered him a bottle of water. The elf sat beside Nevra and looked at the crystal. They shared a few words, where Nevra told him with a hoarse voice that he was terribly afraid of losing anyone else. xd

Ezarel remained silent, but he decided that it was correct to embrace his friend and stay there with him. They shared the same deep sadness and anxiety over the situation, so he also found comfort in Nevra’s presence.

They both didn’t sleep a bit through the night. Ezarel had his eyes closed, his head resting on Nevra’s shoulder, but not being able to sleep. Nevra had his eyes open all the time, staring at the crystal and visualizing how it could’ve been if he was there on time.

The next morning he had to take a nap because the headache he had was terribly painful.

The next days Nevra was off. His attention was driven into memories, into the things he experienced that day. He was closed in his own world, and the only ones he dared to open were Ezarel and Karenn.

His sleeping schedule was terrible, either he slept and had nightmares or he couldn’t sleep at all. That also came along with his eating schedule, which was also terrible as he felt nauseous most of the time. It was Karenn the one who forced him to try to eat something to at least feed his body- and it worked, because he was starving, but the anxiety made him feel nauseous constantly.

His coldness increased when he lost Ezarel. Nevra showed himself as being fine with the decision the elf took. He was an adult capable of making his own decisions after all. But he was deeply in denial about it. It was too soon for him to lose another friend. But he did, he lost Ezarel too soon for him to learn to cope with it properly.

✰; remember to reblog and like to support my content, I hope you enjoyed it!

[forteafy]

Sarah Smiles | SV5

Summary: You and Sebastian are the same person; ultra-focused on your career and surrounded by a life built and designed especially for you. When your worlds collide, you can’t help but wanting to start letting one another in, maybe the ultimate power couple will be born out of a successful race. Part of the 'Vices and Virtues' collection.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Mentions of divorce, SV5's long hair deserves a warning of it's own.

In Formula 1, there was never a good time to take a job role. Joining mid-season was bad; having to meet expectations and places that you hadn’t a clue about beforehand. Contrary to popular belief, joining at the beginning of the season was worse. You had all the positivity from the previous season to uphold as well as the constant comparison to the choices taken the previous year. 

Maybe that was why you felt so off, standing slightly off to the rest of the Aston Martin meeting room. Although you were clad in identical uniform; your polo shirt and shorts the exact same green of everybody around you, you knew in this moment, you stuck out like a sore thumb. Several pairs of eyes were trained on you, a new face for a start since their winter break. Moreover, you were a woman. Even if it was wrong, there was a distinctive lack of them in the mechanical team. 

In your mind, that didn’t matter. If anything, it proved that you were the most competent and suited for this job. But if you were, why did you feel this nervous? Why did you want to be anywhere but in that room? Your life was so perfectly built to accommodate you, why did this job seem to alter it so quickly?

You were soon pulled out of your inner monologue when the sound of a microphoned voice filters through the room. Everybody paid attention to the commands, sitting on the chairs set around the room. You opted for the one closest to you, nobody sitting directly next to or in front of you. You were not too sure about behind and you aren’t turn around to check at this point. Not when Mike Krack was stood in front of you, microphone in hand, welcoming the team back after a well-deserved break. 

He began with the introductions, welcoming the new mechanics and PR team to their camp. There was a round of applause for each member of the team, stepping up to the front and giving a little piece of information on themselves. Aston Martin, unlike some of the other teams, had evolved into more than a job; a family knit was quite literally on the face of it, after all. At least, that was what was coming to your mind from seeing the identical stances of Lance and Lawrence. 

“And now, I’d like to welcome our newest Race Engineer who will be working alongside our very own Sebastian Vettel!” There was a cheer as the four-time champions name was mentioned. What you were not expecting, was the louder cheer which circulated the room when Mike introduced you by name, motioning for you to come and join him. 

You took a breath, focused on the task at hand, stepping up and nodding towards the group behind you. What you didn’t realise, looking back at your chair where your Aston Martin jacket was draped, was the figure sat upright on the chair behind you; a mass of blonde curls and a grin that could light up the entire racetrack, let alone the room. 

Sebastian Vettel had been sat behind you the entire time. 

A hand on your shoulder from none other than the Team Principal drew you back to the room, handing you the microphone which you gladly accepted. Your mouth opened, offering a few words to the crowd, thanking them for being so welcoming whilst you were finding your feet. 

“I’d also like to say I hope I’m able to bring something to this team and lead us to some victories. I’m so thankful to be working with such an incredible team, and to be the four-time world champion’s engineer. Uh…let’s hope we can go for five!” You finish your sentence to a massive cheer around the room, applause coming through your ears. It had taken that few moments to obtain your confidence; now you were ready to face the entire paddock with nothing but a smile and your knowledge. 

Silently, you took your place back in the chair your jacket laid upon, picking up the garment and slipping it over your arms. You thought you felt something on your shoulder. Convinced it was simply the feel of the item, you turned your attention back forward, pulling your focus towards the instructions for FP1 later that morning. But then…you feel that tap again. This time it completely draws your attention. Your head turns, what you don’t expect is the most beautiful pair of eyes, piercing into your own. Sebastian is leaning forward, a grin on his face, one hand outstretched to shake yours. It takes you a moment to register this, flustering a little before reaching down to take his hand in your own. But after that, you revert to your old self. Cool, calm, confident. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He whispers, not wanting to take the attention away from Mike, or more importantly, the Drive to Survive cameras nestled in the corner. “I have a feeling we’ll be becoming a lot more…acquainted?” 

“Oh really?” You whisper back, a grin finding a home upon your lips. “What makes you think that?” 

Before the driver can give you an answer, you’ve spun back around in your seat, hearing Mike’s instructions beginning to end. His final instructions are given, signalling for mechanics to take their positions, engineers to take their final words with the drivers. A final word of luck is given before the man steps down, signalling for his team to follow his lead. You take the opportunity to let go of a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, shoulders sagging and back no longer tense. Effortlessly, feet swing up from the chair, running a hand through your hair, feeling for the skinny elastic band resting on your wrist. Whilst your fingers are busy pulling back your hair, the figure of none other than your racer appears in front of you, his own hair now pulled back by his white headband. In between his fingers, nestle a water bottle. Your water bottle, to be exact.

“You left this under your chair.” He explains, handing over the bottle. You thank him with a smile, taking the bottle within your own grasp. The look down to the bottle causes some hair to escape from your ponytail. Instead of fixing the issue, you simply push the stands behind your ears, watching as Sebastian motions towards the door, the last few mechanics making their way to the Aston Martin pen. “Shall we walk and talk?” You can only nod, your palms becoming sweaty. You tell yourself it’s the grip on the bottle, you cannot be intimidated by the beautiful man with curly hair. 

“So, first practice…” You start, keeping pace with the man, your footsteps soon synchronising. “We need to make a statement, it’s the first race back. The driver throws you a questioning look, wondering what on earth you could mean, his eyes wanting a new explanation. “I’ve seen the way you acted at Red Bull- “

“That’s not me.” Sebastian cuts you off. “Not anymore.” 

“I’m not saying it is. What I’m saying is we need that Red Bull Sebastian behind the wheel. I want to see the fierce driver in the car- “You pauses, holding a hand up, letting his words catch in his throat. “But we want the Sebastian we know and love in front of the camera.” 

“Since when did you become my publicist too?” He jokes, pulling his sunglasses down to cover his eyes as the two of you stepped into the sunlit track of Bahrain for practice. Your mouth opens to talk before one of his hands come out, resting on your shoulder. “I’m joking. I understand you.” Visibly, your posture relaxes, pulling your own sunglasses across your eyes, the sun beating down a lot heavier than you had anticipated. 

“I’m glad somebody does.” You can’t help the grin that is ticking onto your face already. You hadn’t yet had more than a glance from the elder Aston Martin driver. He’d been absent from your final interview, having been sorting out some more…personal affairs. You’d met the remaining members of the team; the mechanics were already one big collaborative and Lance was such��a sweetheart, (even despite the silver-spoon claims, he was an incredibly talented driver.) However, at this current point, you’d trade them all for another conversation with Sebastian. 

And that scared you. So used to doing everything your way, each step planned out to accommodate yourself. Why was he, (let’s face it, practically a stranger,) making you question everything? You had your own life, your own steps, you didn’t need somebody to come along and change it all with a flashy smile and a warm, attractive tone. 

“So-“ Sebastian continued the conversation, breaking back into the comfortable silence. “The team is doing a joint lunch together today, I’m pretty sure they’re ordering in pizza. You’re welcome to join, your part of the family now-” 

“No-“ Your mind mentally screamed for answering before you could even stop to think. What were you saying? Why would you turn down lunch with the entire team, it was a perfect opportunity to gain some credibility. “Fuck- no, I didn’t mean- I’m not a huge pizza person and I don’t usually-“

Sebastian doesn’t look upset. He looks almost…in awe. His grin finds its way back to his face, amused by your sudden realisation as well as his own. 

“I’m…also not a huge pizza person.” He responds, feeling like he was no longer the only human on earth who didn’t bow down to the Italian dish. “Maybe we can grab something together then? Something that the entire team isn’t going to devour before us.” He half-jokes, half smirks. “The restaurant in my hotel does the most amazing sushi rolls, we could go for them?” He’s offering up each suggestion, his own mind practically crawling to spend time with you at this point. 

You on the other hand, were aware of the infamous sushi rolls. After arriving late from the airport, the previous night, you’d stopped in the restaurant section before mustering the energy to take your suitcase to your own room. There, your eyes had scanned over each option, eventually settling on the sushi platter, eyes transfixed onto tomorrow’s schedule as you ate alone. 

What you were completely unaware of, was the figure sitting a few seats away from you, back turned, eyes fixed in a novel as a sushi roll was half eaten in his palm; his blonde hair unruly, the settlement papers long forgotten that should have been signed hours ago. 

“I could go for sushi.” You respond, as the two of you finally step into the garage. Sebastian nodded in agreement, mentioning that he would find you after practice. The driver lingers for a moment as you made your way towards the pit wall, initialled headphones waiting for you to lean into. 

“I look forward to hearing your voice on the other end of the radio!” He…jokes? Flirts? Your mind is too transfixed on the current event to tell. Besides, Sebastian has only just completed his messy, (albeit, very private,) divorce. The only reason you were aware was after a press photo released showed Vettel without his wedding band; that an off-handed comment from Lance earlier that day. 

You can barely register his words as you take your place, eyes transfixed on the data in front of you. In a matter of moments, Vettel’s voice fills the device, his tone soft as he adjusts around the car, his balaclava and helmet. He calls your name, making sure his radio is working correctly.

“Sebastian, remember what we said.” You note, switching to the readings and data you were used to, the information that was going to help Sebastian through this. “Red Bull energy, yes?”

“Red Bull energy.” He repeats, setting his helmet down, eyes fixed on the track. 

Practice was one thing, but qualification? That was another. 

The plan you had given your driver had gone perfectly, as you had predicted. After talking one another through the turns, making slight alterations that Sebastian had taken on board, he was currently one of the favourites to be taking pole position. Pats on the back by your team members were given, and after he’d gotten changed and taken a breath, Sebastian came and found you with the promise of sushi. 

The two of you had found, were almost identical. Since his divorce was finalised, Sebastian had retained being his own person. He was doing things for himself, no ties apart from his career. If he wanted something, there was no discussion. It happened. The racer however, had found that you lived by the exact same piece of fabric. 

Neither one of you were looking for anything. You both had lives to lead and always lived by if somebody could fit into that, maybe you could let them in. And with the blonde driver, it seemed as if that maybe was becoming more obvious by every single moment. 

With still around an hour to go until qualification began, you had slinked off to your seat on the pit wall, determined to carry on with your novel. Having your flight delayed by three hours and a phone that you were not able to charge until you reached the aeroplane had led you into a store, picking out a novel which looked interesting. What you didn’t expect was to be mesmerised by the story, having been completely focused for the entire flight and the previous evening in the hotel. 

Mike had told the team to reconvene in 30 minutes, giving each mechanic, assistant, engineer and driver time to prepare; after their performances, Aston Martin had a lot to lead up to; they needed their drivers focused. You’d remained comfortable, your noise-cancelling headphones playing classical music as you got lost in the world of a forbidden romance novel. You were so engrossed in your little bubble that you didn’t realise footsteps approaching you. Suddenly, your eyes remembered to dart up, seeing none other than the figure of your race driver in front of you. The man spoke, whatever he said unaudable until you placed the book down, wiggling the headphones until they were around your shoulder.

“Sorry, Sebastian. You all okay?” You asked, eyes catching his own, they practically glistened in the night lights, shining in the track ambience. 

“I said how are you feeling?” He asked. “Ready to give them another Red Bull attitude?” Although them days were behind him, he couldn’t help but find the amusement in what you had said yesterday. So much so, that when you had casually pressed your number into his phone over sushi and stories, he’d saved you as ‘Red Bull Energy.’ Maybe that was part of you, too. You had an incredible spark. An independent woman who had her life on track perfectly.  Not to mention, you were incredibly beautiful.

“Absolutely.” You confirm to the driver. “We’re going to give them a show, make them wonder why they would ever doubt Aston Martin.” Sebastian can’t help but be in awe of your energy. Somehow, that glint you gave off made him want to blush like a schoolboy again. His eyes couldn’t meet you for fear of that, so instead darted around your section of the desk, seeing the title of your discarded book. 

“Before the Sunset?” he motioned towards the book, in shock that anybody else had ever heard of that title. 

“Wha- Oh!” You suddenly registered what he was speaking about, picking up the novel and holding it against your chest. “Yes- I bought it at the airport, I’m already in love with it.” Your eyes lighten as you explain your sudden passion for the novel. Sebastian swore he could feel his heart melt a little more with the smile on your face; he was certain he’d be the one to cause that smile one day. 

“Where have you gotten to?” His curiosity overtakes him.

“Clara has just arrived in Italy; she’s still waiting for James to call her back.” You explain, replaying the moment in your head, your brain doing nothing but picturing how it would look in person. Excitedly, the book goes back to the table, arm movements getting wilder as you become more passionate. “It’s such an amazing story. Do you ever wonder how it would be, finding somebody who would go across the world for an unrequited love?”

“It’s a beautiful thing.” He agrees, taking a step closer towards you. And then…there it is. Red Bull Sebastian Vettel. “Do you…do you think going through a qualification is enough for unrequited love?” He can’t help the corny line and grin that spreads across his face. And then…the most beautiful moment.

“It depends.” You answer, without missing a beat, looking around to the crowd of workers currently working across Aston Martin and Ferrari. “Who are you trying to impress?”

Sebastian doesn’t say anything. Instead, he reaches forward, his finger and thumb resting under your chin as he turns you back to face him. He’s such a gentleman. He doesn’t say anything, but simply raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to take the very heavy hint. His eyes are sparkling, you’re almost mesmerised. Almost, but not quite. You’re still the strong woman you came into Aston Martin as; you could challenge Red Bull Sebastian any day.

“I’ll tell you what.” You grin, keeping the proximity to your driver. “Get through this qualification in one piece, make everybody wonder where this team has come from today.” You respond, eyes gleaming as Sebastian opens his mouth to respond.

“And then, we can make them talk more when I take you for a celebration drink.” He finishes. You can’t help but grin at the response, knowing that this was the Sebastian you wanted to see on the track. Without a word, you stretch your arm out, offering to shake his hand. The driver obliges, but plays it his way, pulling your arm closer to him, his body trajectory so his mouth rested close to your ear. 

“Have I ever told you there is nothing hotter than a woman who can handle her shit?” He murmurs, keeping his tone low so not to disturb or draw attention to the two. 

“Red Bull Sebastian is my shit to deal with now, huh?” You tease, referencing the ongoing reference between the two of you. The driver can’t help but chuckle at your comment, the reminder to his younger self, all those years ago, sitting in the seat of his first car.

“I’m Aston Martin Sebastian now. He’s better.” Silently, he pulls away from the top of your ear, his head drawing back to walk away, but not before his eyes catch yours one more time, a wink fluttering across his eyes, a signal to you that it was on.

“I don’t doubt it.” You respond, watching as the driver walks away, the silent promise that you will get him to pole position, and you will get that drink. 

astonmartinf1:

Liked by sebastianvettel, christianhorner and 345,204 others

astonmartinf1: Comment from our pole position WINNER, Sebastian Vettel!

SV5: 'I couldn't have asked for a better qualification, if I'm going to thank anyone, it's the team, especially my race engineer. Big things are coming!

view all comments:

astonmartinis: IS THAT JESUS? SEBASTIAN'S SECOND COMING, THE HAIR OMG-

floforzaferrari: congratulations Seb! well done to your new engineer :)

lancestroll: couldn't have asked for a better qualification, see you for celebrations tonight seb!

sebastianvettel: lancestroll: it won't be tonight my friend, I shall see you in the morning!

smoothsainzsebastian: SEB HAS PLANS?

chairleclerc: HES OUT WITH THE ENGINEER TELL ME CAP, LOVE IS COMING-

[honeybadgercomeback]

Spotter

Summary: An overheard phone call leads to an invitation to spend the holidays with your gym buddy and usual spotter, Lance. But when he tells you just who he is and what his life is like, you decide that spending Hanukkah with people who like each other is so much better than anything else with your family.

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: Mentions of a semi toxic family situation, mentions of past relationships ending, mentions of cheating.

AN: Just as a warning, I’m not Jewish. I’ve done a lot of research to write this accurately, and if I made any mistakes please do let me know so I can fix it! For those who celebrate, Chag Sameach!

—

“Yeah, Mom, I get it. I understand what you’re saying. Exactly, I wouldn’t want to look sad in the back of the photos. Just let me know when they’re sending RSVPs out. I’ll talk to you soon.” You stabbed at the red end call button, throwing your head back against the wall of the gym. This was great. Just great. Because three weeks before the holidays was exactly when you wanted to be uninvited from your family Christmas.

“You ok?” You turned to see Lance, the guy who shared your gym and spotted for you when you were doing weights standing down the hallway. The Canadian had become a friend since you’d started paying too much money for the gym in Monaco because your trainer worked out of there now.

“I’ll be fine. Just holiday planning.”

“I don’t know what Christmas is like, but from the movies and what friends have said it sounds stressful.” You raised an eyebrow and he elaborated. “I’m Jewish. I get the minor holiday that people compare to Christmas because of the time of year when the only real similarities are giving presents and eating chocolate.” You laughed and he smiled at your reaction.

“That sounds about right. I was on the phone to my mom, she politely advised that I skip Christmas at home this year. My sister’s bringing her fiance home for engagement photos. Apparently I’d be a ‘distraction’ because he was my college boyfriend.” You mimicked your mother’s accent, making Lance smile this time.

“So what’s your plan? Staying here for it?”

“At home in Nice, yeah. I’m going to get some wine, some cheese, and stay at home watching crappy movies. Are you doing anything nice? Heading home yourself?”

“Yeah, I’m going to Montreal. I’ll spend Hanukkah and New Years with my dad and sister. It’ll be fun, I think Chloe’s bringing her fiance who thankfully I have never dated because that would be awkward.”

“Want to get back to work?” He grinned and followed you to the free weights as you used your frustration to hit a personal best. 

Three days later you were getting off the elliptical as a hand touched your shoulder. It made you jump as you turned to yell but Lance stood there in surprise, hands up apologetically.

“I called you, I’m sorry! I thought you’d heard me.” You pulled out your earbuds and he cringed at his mistake.

“It’s fine, it’s only you. What’s going on?”

“Come home with me for the holidays.”

You stared at him in shock, watching his expression closely. It felt like a joke.

“Doesn’t Hanukkah start in like a week? Plus flights to Canada? I can’t…” You trailed off and swallowed deeply as surprise and embarrassment took over your expression. “I really appreciate it, but I don’t think I can do it.”

“Look. When we finish working out can we get a coffee and talk? Please?”

Usually you’d say no, but you’d gotten to know and trust Lance over the past year. You couldn’t help but agree with him.

Once you’d changed and tied up your hair the two of you sat in a cafe people watching. The Christmas lights glowed on the dark night and it was beautiful to see the buildings lit in white. The two of you had ordered but Lance got his credit card to the cashier before you could, insisting he’d invited you out so he was paying.

“Offering means a lot but I’ll be fine, really. I know exactly what I’m going to do for the time I’m off.” You said after taking a sip. Lance shook his head and you realised it’d be a harder battle than you expected.

“I didn’t say anything because I figured you knew. It’s rare for me to be able to go anywhere, especially here, and people not know who I am. But you don’t. Remember how I told you I drive for a living?”

“Of course I do. What, do you drive horses or something instead of a car?”

“Try Formula One cars. Lance Stroll, driver for Aston Martin Formula One team at your table.” He held out his hand for a handshake as you looked at him.

“Seriously?”

“Completely.”

You listened as he explained what he did for a job, about who his family were and how it worked. You didn’t know a huge amount about that world and listened to everything.

“So you want me to come to Montreal with you for the holidays? Seriously? I…why?” You couldn’t understand why he wanted to spend time with you.

“You don’t treat me like other people do. You treat me like a person. I figure we’re friends, and I don’t want my friend to be home alone. It’s not fair on you to spend it by yourself.”

“Are you really sure?” He took your hand and squeezed once.

“I’m positive. I already told my dad I was inviting a friend to come with me. Chloe’ll be there with her fiance. It’ll be really nice to have someone there whose life doesn’t revolve around sports you need to wear protective equipment for. Scotty’s a snowboarder.” He quickly added the last sentence when you raised your eyebrow.

“I guess I’m going with you.”

You organised to work from home for the week before Christmas so you could go, and the morning of your flight you were packed and ready to go. Lance arrived at your apartment building in an SUV with a grin, taking your suitcase to put in the car before you could do it yourself. Instead of the usual terminal you flew out of he pulled up to a smaller building. The two of you went through quickly and got your passports checked before being directed to a tiny plane. It took a few moments for everything to hit you that you weren’t getting a flight to Paris and a connection.

“Lance. Seriously?” He smiled at your exasperated tone and pulled you to the quickly opening door.

“It was easier than trying to organise connections that worked. C’mon.” 

You settled into the plush leather seat with a bottle of water in front of you as the pilot left the cockpit to fill you in on the flight plan and times. There’d be a stop off in Gander to clear passport control, but otherwise it was an easy flight. You let the news wash over you as you pulled out your work laptop to check the models you were working on.

“What’re you doing?” Lance asked once the plane was airborne, pulling out his own tablet to work.

“Carbon fibre designs. I work on aviation design and fuel burn, we’re looking at how it degrades over time and how long it can go without extra maintenance.”

“Want to see it snap at ridiculous speeds?” You smiled and he turned the tablet to show you a video of two cars colliding. One went up on its rear wheels and landed hard on the ground before continuing, but the other spun multiple times as the wheel rolled away. It was badly damaged and you stared at the debris on the roadway.

“That’s normal for Formula One?” You asked but Lance shook his head.

“It was my fault, I shouldn’t have over out the way I did. I was in the green car.”

It hit you what he did for a living and you shook your head, staring at the way so many cars had weaved around him to avoid hitting him.

“You’re crazy. Actually crazy.” He laughed and the two of you split an overly large sandwich, settling into doing your own work while you flew.

Landing in Gander was freezing. You were in a thick coat as the two of you ran off the plane through the snow flurries into the customs building. Your details were checked and everything was confirmed before they stamped your passport to let you through. While you were waiting to get back to the plane Lance’s name was called, two people running up to join you.

“We got a flight up here, figured we could hitch a ride the rest of the way? Scotty just finished his competition so we’re only getting in now.” The woman spoke, holding her hand out to you. “I’m Chloe, Lance’s sister. This is my fiance, Scotty. I heard the two of you are gym buddies? Please tell me you have gossip on Lance.”

The rest of the flight was fun, the four of you laughing and joking as Scotty showed you and Lance videos from his snowboarding contest. He was clearly talented and you both clapped at the podium video. But once you landed in Montreal your nerves started to get the best of you while you all made your way to a car. Lance again insisted on putting your case in and you sat on the back seat with Scotty as the heater ran for you.

Lance and Chloe had the front seats and you spent the drive looking out the window at the snowy vista surrounding you. Scotty squeezed your arm and you turned to him.

“It’ll be fine. Lawrence is really nice, I was terrified my first time here,” he murmured so the siblings couldn’t hear. You squeezed his arm in thanks without saying anything.

The house you arrived to was large, and Lance took your case in one of his hands as you all made it up the shovelled out drive. A tall man appeared as you made it inside, wrapping Lance and Chloe in a hug. He shook Scotty’s hand before holding it out for you to take.

“I’m Lawrence, Lance’s dad. It’s nice to meet you.” You shook it firmly while introducing yourself to him and getting a smile.

“Lance mentioned that you were coming with him, nobody should be alone at this time of year. We’re glad you could be here.”

It didn’t take long for you to be shown to a guest room and you put your bag away. Once you came downstairs it was almost dark, everyone gathered in the kitchen. You watched as the menorah in the middle of the table was lit and three prayers were said, nodding along the same way Scotty did. It was sweet to see and you felt included in it despite not understanding the words.

Once it was lit the five of you stayed in the kitchen, watching Chloe and Lawrence fry latkes and everyone shared stories about the year that had been. Lance taught you how to play dreidel with his arm around your shoulder as you spun the wooden toy. When it landed on gimel the table pushed the pile of chocolate over to you, making you laugh. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had so much fun at any kind of family event, or even if it had happened before. The days had work in the mornings before you and Lance exercised in the gym and in the evenings the menorah was lit and the five of you spent the evening together. You had been worried that it would be fussy and you’d be unwelcome, but instead it was calm and relaxing.

The morning of day four you were curled up in the living room with your laptop on your thighs as Lawrence came in.

“Busy day?” He asked and you smiled with a shrug.

“Just trying to work some aerodynamics out. We’re looking at making small changes to winglets for fifty to seventy seater planes to increase fuel efficiency and decrease emissions. But the financial gains are so minimal compared to the installation cost that a lot of companies aren’t interested.

“What exactly is it that you do?”

You went through the work you did on moulding carbon fibre for small passenger planes to improve how they flew and reduce emissions. Your job was to make sure that whatever you did was aerodynamically sound, and the most recent prototype you’d worked on had just been approved by the FAA and EASA for use in two of your biggest markets.

“You presented it to the regulators?” Lawrence fixed you with his gaze, interested in everything you were saying.

“I didn’t really have a choice, someone had to present and I know it best. But I enjoy the work and explaining it to people. There’s a lot that we can do to make little changes to improve the world.”

“That makes sense. Have you always worked on planes?”

“I used to work on trains too. My bachelors is in applied physics, and my masters is in aerodynamic engineering. I like working out how to make things work more efficiently and use less energy. Hence this, it’s the final slide I have to check for the year.”

“Then I should let you get back to it. I was going to order some pizzas for dinner tonight, does that work for you?” He smiled as he stood up and you smiled back in acceptance, your attention returning to if the mock up could be sent to the 3D printer so you could have a design prototype ready when you were back in January.

Things between you and Lance were shifting. It was strange, but it was good. At least you thought so. When the four of you sat and watched a movie he sat beside you on one couch as Chloe and Scotty sat on the other curled up together. The two of you moved closer to each other as the days went by until his arm started going around you to pull you to him. The first night it happened he held you tight as Die Hard played. You and Scotty had the argument about if it was a Christmas film while the Stroll siblings looked on and laughed at your antics. It was fun and there was near constant flirtation and you were terrified that if anything happened you’d have to leave early. But things were good and you wanted them to stay that way.

Which meant you should have known that everything would come careening down around you.

It was the morning of day six of Hanukkah and you stood outside with a coffee firmly clasped in your hands. The other three were having a snowball fight as you laughed but once Chloe threw one at you staying away was a lost cause as you jumped in. The four of you ran and laughed like kids until the loud tone of your cell ringing interrupted the shouts. You pulled it out and frowned, trudging back to the porch to answer it.

“Hey Mom.”

“Honey, when is your flight getting in? We’re at the airport and the one you’re usually on came and went but you didn’t arrive. Did you need to change to a later one?”

You checked your watch and shook your head, taking a sip of now cold coffee before you spoke.

“I’m not coming home. It’s like you asked, you didn’t want me interrupting the engagement photos and making a scene because my sister is marrying my ex boyfriend.”

“You should have known that wasn’t what we meant for you to do! It was that you should leave early instead of waiting until January. That was all.”

Your anger was rising and you just wanted to hang up, but you didn’t want to disturb everyone else. You didn’t realise that Lance had been listening in, and as soon as you said “mom” he was on his way over to you.

“Well you didn’t make that clear. I’m spending the holidays with friends and I’m happy. Your presents are in the mail, I paid extra so they should arrive on time. I’ll fly home in January to see people then.”

“What will people say? You need to be here or someone will make a comment about you not being here for family. You can’t—“

“Can’t what? Can’t tell my mother that I’m doing what she said I should do? Can’t come home for Christmas because you’re afraid I’m going to make a scene? Have to be invited to spend time with people so they don’t think I’m totally alone? Can’t see my childhood friends because I’m going to hear the “oh you poor thing” crap again and again? I’m doing what I need to do for myself. It’s not fair to act like I’m the one at fault here when I’m the one who brought someone home for Christmas one year and found him in bed with my sister! So if I can’t be there because you don’t want the stories or discussion then let me be where I can at least pretend I’m happy with people who like me for me.”

“Baby, are you coming back?” Lance called loudly from beside you which made you turn and look. Chloe and Scotty were just beside him and it was clear that they’d heard your mini rant. Lance winked and you decided to play along.

“Yeah, just let me finish this call!”

“Who’s there? Who are you with?” It was clear the unfamiliar accent had confused her.

“I’m with people I care about and who care about me. That’s what matters. I’ll call you Christmas Day.” You hung up the phone and leaned back before Lance put his arm around you and pulled you in for a hug.

“Everything ok?” He asked and you took a deep breath before shaking your head.

“She thought I was coming home after the last time we spoke. Because definitely, of course I’m coming home to see them. Of course.”

His arms tightened around you to hold you close as you leaned against him for a few moments. You felt his hand move your hair so he could whisper into your ear.

“I let them know the basics of what happened. I didn’t want to say everything, that’s your business, but they were worried.”

“Thank you.” You smiled up at him, his brown eyes sparkling and comforting. When the two of you separated Chloe and Scotty insisted on a hug before shepherding you inside out of the cold. Chloe began melting chocolate to make luscious hot chocolates for you all, laughing as Scotty and Lance both started worrying about what it would do to their meal plans. Everyone made you smile and you told stupid jokes as Lance showed some of what he called his stupidest race moments on YouTube to make you laugh.

That night the five of you were back in the kitchen to light another candle. Lance was the one who took control of lighting it and saying the prayer, the words washing over you again. Instead of just the menorah there was more prayers for the Sabbath and another candle lit. Lance murmured that they were mostly doing it because of Hanukkah but you just smiled and leaned in. There was more fun and laughter, playing games as everyone sat and enjoyed. Lance was glued to your side for the entire evening, his arm on your waist pulling you close. The dark blue sweater he wore was soft against you as you stayed glued to him, his hand on your hip as you said goodnight. The two of you ambled up to the bedrooms, Lance still holding onto you.

“This has been a lot of fun. Thanks for inviting me, Stroll.” You smiled up and watched the crinkles around his eyes deepen as he grinned back at you.

“Thanks for agreeing to come. You deserve some fun holidays, not just sitting around alone in your apartment.” The words were said so earnestly and the couple of glasses of wine you drank over the evening had lowered your inhibitions. After a few seconds of looking at him you reached up and pressed a kiss against his smile. But Lance didn’t respond so you stepped back, terrified you’d misread the signs.

You hadn’t and he pulled your body against his as he moved to kiss you properly. One of his hands cupped your cheek, holding you still as the two of you separated.”

“That isn’t why I asked you here at all, but I’m really glad we did that.”

You spent the night together, curled up in Lance’s bed as he explained each of the trophies that lined his childhood bedroom from his early years of carting. He explained what each one was from, giggling at the way you congratulated him for long ago victories. The night passed while you were talking and joking in a blanket cocoon you created together.

The final two days of Hanukkah were spent with the friends you’d made. Chloe taught you how to ski, giving you a spare pair of ski boots and helping you strap into the cross country torture devices. You took selfies and she took a video to send to Lance of you making your way across the frozen land. You looked utterly ridiculous but had a lot of fun. The biggest benefit was Lance massaging your sore calves that evening on the couch as Chloe stuck her feet in Scotty’s face encouraging him to do the same. Neither of you could stop giggling.

The last day was also Christmas Day, but you didn’t really care. Christmas had only ever been a seeing family holiday for you rather than a religious event, and you were more than happy to get to spend time with people who actually wanted to spend time with you. Now that the first kiss barrier had been broken Lance kept pulling you in for hugs and pushing kisses to the top of your head that you returned to his cheek. It was clear you were more than friends and Lawrence gave an approving nod.

That morning you were the first one up, calling your family for a thirty second call before making breakfast. Lawrence was the first one down as you pulled a waffle off the maker, surprising you when you turned around to see him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you, thank you for cooking. You didn’t need to.”

“It’s one of the traditions I always do at this time of year, a big breakfast for everyone. I hope you don’t mind.” You felt self conscious about it, it was his kitchen after all. Lance had told you it would be fine but you still weren’t sure.

“How can I mind coming down to food here for us? I heard movement as I was leaving my bedroom so everyone else will down soon. Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome.”

It was quiet for a few minutes as you whisked eggs in a pan until Lawrence spoke again.

“You’ve worked on planes and trains, how do you feel about working with automobiles?” Your forehead crinkled as you turned to look at him while still stirring the scrambled eggs.”

“I like things that go really fast. Working on a car seems like it’d be boring after working on planes.”

“What about a Formula One car?” You could have heard a pin drop before he continued. “We need a new head of aerodynamics for the team, I’ve been interviewing candidates trying to find someone. Our previous head went to a different team. Ever since you explained what you do I’ve done some research and I think you’d be the perfect fit. It’s not an easy job, there’s a lot of travel and you’ll be working with some hardheaded engineers and regulations that have millimetre wide restrictions. But if you’re interested I can have a full job offer later today.”

You’d stopped stirring at this point, barely having the presence of mind to pull the pan away from the hot burner. You hadn’t been looking for a new job, especially not in Formula One or in an industry where you’d never worked before. It didnt feel real.

“Is this because of Lance and I?” You hated asking the question but you had to. To his credit Lawrence shook his head immediately.

“Never. As soon as you told me that you deal with strict regulations regularly I wanted you for this. I do understand if you need to think about it.”

“Will you send me the offer? I’m not saying I’ll take the job, but I need to see all of the details. An email’s the best way to do it.” You recited your email and he took it down quickly to send you the information. Once he had everyone else started coming downstairs so you served up the cinnamon rolls and everything else you’d made.

That afternoon you were curled up on the couch with Lance, watching the snowstorm blowing outside. Your phone buzzed with an email from Lawrence containing your offer. While scanning the details your eyes widened.

It was more than you’d expected. Financially it was a big jump from what you were being paid and the benefits were fantastic. Working from the UK and travelling to every race, paid work travel, lots of paid days off, health insurance and more. You stiffened while reading it which made Lance run his hand down your arm.

“Everything ok? Was it your mom?” His voice was roughened with sleep and you smiled softly, leaning over to kiss him.

“It’s good. I have a question for you though. How would you feel about seeing me at least twenty four weekends next year?” You could see the moment that the significance of your question hit him.

“Seriously? How?”

You explained the offer, how his dad had walked in while you were working and you were seriously considering it. You wanted to say yes, but a budding relationship and so much travelling felt worrying.

“If you want to take this, do it. I’ll support you no matter what.” He took a breath before continuing. “But I need to tell you that once people find out we’re dating they’ll say you got this job because of nepotism. Which we both know isn’t true, that you deserve this, but its what they say about my seat. I don’t want you to have to deal with any of the crap.”

“I’d deal with it anyway. Any partner of someone well known gets it. But this way we can at least work together and see each other. I don’t mind the worry and the randomness talking crap. We know the truth.” You pulled his face to yours to kiss him, Lance pulling you onto him and holding you close.

“This is more than just for right now, isn’t it?” He asked, his voice barely audible against your ear.

“It is for me.” You linked your hands together, feeling him squeeze it tightly before wrapping his arms securely around you.

That evening he posted a rare photo on his Instagram story, the five of you with a fully lit menorah in the foreground. There were matching grins and arms around shoulders, two couples clearly defined. You knew comments were made online, and even more when your appointment as Head of Aerodynamic Engineering was announced and you did an interview with the social media team, but you ignored every one of them while your research spoke for itself. And the morning when you arrived to the track for preseason testing in Bahrain holding Lance’s hand made the shouts louder than ever, but watching your work begin to pay off meant it was all entirely worth it.

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 13

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

Roger: ——, ——, … ——, Kate. —...Hey, Kate.

The sound I heard coming from the other side of the fog suddenly became Roger’s voice coming from nearby.

Kate: Oh! Ah…Sorry, I spaced out.

It was only a short while after Victor had told us that the cursed Lance Brown had passed away.

The way it went was the last night when Lance was going to be arrested for murder, he went in a fit of rage and was shot to death on the spot.

Kate: …How did he get charged for murder? And the person he was accused of killing was— 

~~ Flashback start ~~

Kate: Is she someone important to you, Lance?

Lance: Huh.

Kate: Ah, well…even with untrained eyes, I could tell a lot of care was put into the painting.

Lance: …Yes. The young lady is someone I like.

She works at a bakery near the studio…

~~ Flashback end ~~

(The lady Lance had a crush on)

Roger: Kate, let’s go.

Kate: Huh, where are we going?

Roger: The information we got from Victor was only the aftermath. We still don’t have details on what happened. If we go ask around the crime scene, we might be able to fill in the blanks on what happened. You, me, even Lance…We can’t just let this go.

(I was planning on investigating whether Lance was cursed or not with Roger)

(And after that, I was going to speak with him on finding ways to make Lance’s life easier…)

(I can’t just let it end like this)

Kate: Okay…Let’s go, Roger.

--

When we went to the scene of the crime from last night, we were lucky to be near a bar Roger regularly went to.

(He brought me here once…)

I asked the familiar barkeep about last night…

Barkeep: Last night’s incident? Yeah, I saw what happened. Was curious.

Roger: That was fast. Hey barkeep, can you tell us what you saw last night?

Barkeep: Sure, but it’s not a nice story y’know? Might be a bit much for the young lady here.

(If you know what happened to Lance…)

Kate: It’s fine. Please tell us.

Barkeep: Well if my favorite customer and the lovely young lady are asking, then I suppose telling a bit won’t hurt. Let’s see…it was around 22:00 last night when it happened. I was making a drink when I heard a scream from outside. Curious, I ran out to see what happened. Then, I saw a girl with red hair bleeding out in the alley ahead.

(Young lady with red hair…It definitely was the one in the paining)

Roger: Do you know if the girl was still breathing at the time?

Barkeep: She was dead. At least that’s what others who came to check it out said. And that’s where the story begins.

The barkeep leaned over and lowered his voice.

Barkeep: A young man stood next to the girl who bled out, his mouth smeared with blood.

Roger: Smeared with blood? Was he hurt too?

Barkeep: No, it was definitely the girl’s blood.

(No way…)

Kate: That young man…Did he have blonde hair and hazel green eyes?

Barkeep: Yeah, he did. So you know him.

(It really was Lance and the girl in the…)

(What happened between those two?)

Barkeep: Soon, more people came by to see what happened and the scene became complete chaos. The police hadn’t arrived yet and people started crowding around the young man.

~ Flashback ~

Male spectator: Hey you, did you kill this girl…?!

Lance: I-I didn’t do it! I was just trying to watch her pass by from my studio on the second floor over there. And then…I saw someone dragging her into this alleyway. Then…When I came running over…

Male spectator: Then what’s that on your mouth? Why is it stained with blood!

Lance: This…

Lance desperately tried to defend himself.

However, the accusations grew louder before the police arrived.

In that moment—One of the spectators exclaimed:

Female spectator: Killing someone and sipping their blood is just disturbing. Like a monster…

Lance: …

In that instant, Lance went speechless, as if something within snapped.

And then tears poured down his cheeks.

Lance: I didn’t…do anything.

~Flashback end~

Barkeep: …He continued arguing with the people around before the police finally arrived. Then, something weird happened.

Kate: …Something weird?

Barkeep: The guy suddenly went nuts and started hugging the police. Each officer hugged fainted on after another. The ones that managed to get away shot him before he could hurt anyone else.

(...Sudden hugs)

The same thing happened when Lance was arrested at the butcher’s shop.

(Did Lance…use his ability to get himself killed?)

(...That definitely has to be it)

Roger: …

Barkeep: Ah, I remembered another thing. He said something like…

~ Flashback ~

Lance: I really…didn’t do anything. But…yeah…I am…a monster. When I see you, my beloved…I just want to eat you up… I still want to sip your blood…even after you’ve taken your last breath. Still…Maybe it’s better for me to die.

(He wanted to eat…the person he liked…?)

In this case it wasn’t a euphemism for love, but literally his intent.

Roger: —Could it be that… His cursed sin is…cannibalism?

(...No way)

But when you think about it, it would make sense why Lance was eating meat in the butcher’s shop, as if to misdirect it.

(He really is a Cursed One)

Barkeep: These days you hear a lot of young men and women get attacked or go missing. Did the young man do all this? Too bad the police killed him before questioning him.

(That was the full story…)

In the end, he was no longer a part of this world— 

Of the little memories I had of Lance, one short conversation came to mind.

~~ Flashback ~~

Lance: I’m just happy watching her from here.

…If I just watch her, my love won’t hurt her.

~~ End flashback ~~

(Lance was aware of his desires)

(That’s why he was smiling, happy to just watch so that he wouldn’t hurt her)

(He tried to save the person he loved and then that happened)

(...This is like)

Roger: “‘Cursed One’s’ tragic fate can’t be altered. In the past, there have been no exceptions.” That’s so true, it makes me laugh.

I looked at Roger when his shoulders shook.

Kate: Um, Roger…

???: Hey, hey. A man dressed in all white with a nice smile and parted bangs just told me something. You were talking about the murder from last night.

(Huh…?)

I turned around and saw a stranger leaning against the counter with a smile.

(...All white and parted bangs? Was it…)

I looked around, but the person I had in mind was nowhere to be found.

Kate: And you are…

Nicholas the novelist: Just some insignificant novelist called Nicholas. And these are…

Michael the playwright: Michael, a playwright.

Joanna the caricaturist: Joanna, a caricaturist.

Barkeep: Ah, these three are people of culture who are regulars here. They like to stick their noses in other people’s business.

Nicholas the novelist: We have to! We’re always looking for inspiration for our works. Man tries to eat a girl with red hair. It’s like the wolf from Little Red Riding Hood.

Joanna the caricaturist: Don’t lump this together with a childish fairytale like Little Red Riding Hood. It’s an insult to a sensational incident.

Michael the playwright: A bloodstained girl and a man standing over her in shock. Aha, I have an idea!

(...Why are they so happy?)

(Oh right, Roger mentioned something yesterday…)

~~ Flashback ~~

Roger: You know why these have become known as “Fairytale Curses”. Novelists and playwrights around the world created works based on existing “Cursed Ones”.

It’s said to be what started them off.

(Though I get where they’re coming from, I can’t understand their indiscretion…)

In the past, many fairytales created were based on the tragic ends of the Cursed Ones.

And perhaps, a new fairytale will be born tonight.

Seeing the moment when a “fairytale curse” would be born made my head spin.

(I know people are free to create what they want and no one can fault them for that)

(But to do so when someone just left this world…)

Michael the playwright: I hope more tragic incidents happen. That way I can create the best stage performances!

Nicholas the novelist: More material for our works! Haha, just kidding!

(...)

In that moment, as if to cut off their laughter, Roger slammed his mug down on the table.

Roger: They didn’t die to be a spectacle for you lot.

(Roger…)

The place fell completely quiet and the three put on fake smiles.

Michael the playwright: Ah, erm…

Nicholas the novelist: Um…We didn’t mean to make fun of people’s deaths.

Joanna the caricaturist: That’s right. Just having jokes at a bar.

Roger: —Just kidding.

Roger smirked.

Michael the playwright: …Huh?

Roger: You were starving for stimulation, so I thought I’d surprise you.

Michael the playwright: …Wha What the heck! You scared me!

Roger: Ahaha, sorry.

(Wha…!)

Michael the playwright: That performance was so real. Want to join my troupe?

Nicholas the novelist: You can scout later. Let’s have a drink as thanks for surprising us!

Roger: Yeah, sure.

While I was at a loss for words, Roger threw his arm around Nicholas’ shoulders.

(I can’t watch this anymore!)

Kate: Roger…

Roger: Hmm?

Roger downed his beer and ruffled my hair.

Kate: Stop…

Roger: We heard what happened. The investigations’s over so there’s no point in digging any deeper.

I’m still not convinced

And you’re okay with that?

I don’t think that’s how you truly feel +4 +4

Kate: I don’t think that’s how you truly feel.

Roger: …Geez. Don’t worry about it and drink. Ah, remember not to drink too much.

As he ordered another beer, Roger looked the same as usual. Unwavering and without hesitation.

My heart ached at that.

(Even if you say it’s over and that there’s no point)

(I’m just…simply not convinced)

(Maybe…If we told Lance “you’re a Cursed One”, would things have changed?)

That’s all I could think about. I couldn’t taste the alcohol at all.

—A few hours later.

Kate: Huh, where did Roger go…?

I was ignoring Roger while sipping my drink, and the next thing I knew, he was gone.

Barkeep: Saw him head out a while ago. Maybe he went to get some air.

(Outside? But…)

The rain that had just begun to fall wet the windows.

(What’s he doing out there in the rain…)

Kate: I’m going to go check on him really quick.

Barkeep: Take an umbrella with you if you’re heading outside.

Kate: Thank you.

--

I didn’t see Roger anywhere near the bar so I went out looking for him with the umbrella the barkeep lent me.

Kate: …It’s raining a lot.

Fine mist blew in the wind with the rain and I peered down alleyways while clutching the umbrella when…

(Ah…I found…him)

(...Roger…?)

There Roger stood, alone in the rain, without an umbrella.

(I’ve never seen him look like that before…)

His expression looked so fragile, as if wandering alone in a deep, foggy forest.

(...)

When I saw his profile, I instantly realized that I had been mistaken.

(...Why)

(Why did I think…that Roger was okay?)

(Maybe I thought…Roger was satisfied)

(There’s no way Roger would not be frustrated when he’s been confronting curses for so long)

(If we had told Lance about Cursed Ones at the time…there wouldn’t have been regrets)

I quietly set my umbrella aside and looked up at the pitch black sky with Roger.

(...Ah, I see)

(For his entire life, Roger’s been fighting this endless battle against despair)

~~ Flashback ~~

Roger: When you first became Fairytale Keeper, you told me about how crushed you felt by your own weakness.

“I won’t despair”.

Kate: …Yes. I remember.

Roger: Even though you felt depressed, it was sweet seeing you keep looking forward and not give in to despair.

I also believe that in life is to give despair the finger.

Kate: Give despair the finger?

Roger: Yeah. I went through the trouble of being born. I’m not gonna give into despair so easily.

~~ End flashback ~~

I always thought that he was someone strong who could laugh at despair as if it was nothing.

(That’s why I had this simple-minded admiration for Roger…)

(Roger isn’t strong)

(...He’s a person who was trying to be strong)

(I’ve been by your side, but...just what was I looking at?)

Roger knew despair and he took my hand.

Even now, he stayed by my side and watched over me.

(...)

I took a step forward to run toward Roger.

But I couldn’t take the next step.

(If I run over to him, it would just be for self-satisfaction)

Otherwise Roger wouldn’t have been standing out here alone in the rain like this.

(But if I was allowed to)

(If I ran over to Roger…)

(I’d hug him)

There was a faint sound in my chest like rainfall.

(...Hug…him?)

(...)

That heartrendingly sweet sound was…

Kate: …I…

I clutched my hands over my heart.

—I returned to the bar unnoticed.

His POV | Next