#lance gets captured

[heynhay]

it's all for you, it's all for you, it's never not for you

[localfanbaselurker]

I’ve realized I can do anything with my newfound power

[delicatebluebirdruins]

dreaming of a world where WTRC was the show and the netflix adaptation never existed

[fluffs-n-stuffs]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Mmm maybe Lance and/or Silver for the lil character doodles? 👀✨

Life has been quite unforgiving as of late—but I really do dearly hope things get easier for the both of us huhu. Take care Mold, and don’t forget to drink a lot of water 🤲❤️

couldn't decide on which one so i did both! Lance and his son Silver! ✨

[bunny-jpeg]

hares, bunnies & wolves

fernando alonso & lance stroll

tags: smut/pwp, university au, professor!fernando, graduate students!lance & reader, filming recording, masturbation, dirty talk, slight dom/sub dynamics

fernando knew that maybe it would've been best to simple download one of those older singles' apps and meet a lovely person and finally settle down. but, instead on a saturday night after a few glasses of wine, he was scrolling through his page of subscriptions. the lovely young people who are a little more liberal with what the internet sees.

and fernando loved what he saw. his personal favourites were a couple who were living in the country that he was currently teaching in. he could tell from the accents that they were from canada.

he had been subscribed to you for almost a year now, and still fernando hung to your videos like erotic scripture. fernando was well respected in his area of study, he shouldn't be jerking it off to videos of people who were close to his students' ages. but there he was, lured by a new video with your breasts right in the thumbnail.

the professor should've known that eyeing the breasts of a younger woman like that wasn't a respectable thing to do. but he clicked it anyway, not like he'd ever meet you two.

"look at that, bunny." he purred as he focused the camera on your chest as he jerked himself off with his other hand. the focus was heavily on on your breasts as you plays with your clit. you rubbed your hand up against your slit with a heated passion as the video continued.

fernando couldn't see your face. you both wore plastic rabbit themed masks that protected your identity. but in total fairness, no one was watching for your facial features. you had fat tits and your partner had a big cock. it was all that was really needed.

"look at you, baby girl." hare's voice rang in your head. lance was the hare and you were the bunny. fernando shifted in his seat as he watched the video keenly. lance spoke once more, "you love knowing that guys get off to you, that you put on a little show for our lovely viewers. they pay you to orgasm, dirty bunny." his voice was low, like coals on your soul as you both continued to mutually masturbate.

the older man could feel the tension in his body as he pleasured himself. he licked his lips as he tried to capture all of your body as your breasts jiggled for the camera. you looked like a dirty slut, but fernando loved how lance spoke to you.

"la-hare." you whimpered, "please." you swallowed as he rubbed his cock up against you. pointed the camera at the sight of his length rubbing up against your soft stomach. pre-cum drooled all over your skin in the low pink lighting of your room. he licked his lips, he knew of all the losers who were jerking off to you.

losers like fernando.

who was in bed as he stroked his cock feverishly to the sight of you. the pretty noises you made and how your lover captured your figure in the lighting of our bedroom. a sweet pink for such a dirty activity. fernando felt like a wolf, a wold observing two little rabbits fucking feverishly. with little time or rhythm, just a wanting need that fernando wish he could be a part of. he believed he could make you both feel good. give two sweet rabbits a dominant in their life. but you were both so young, so fernando would just have to be a voyeur to your sexual activities.

the camera shift and lance had your legs wrapped around his waist and his cock slipped into you quickly. his large cock sank in easily due the amount of wetness and lance filmed the sight of it sinking in. he groaned, "fuck, yeah. looks good, bunny. you like that? you like how it feels when you're stuffed full." his words were like honey and you could feel his dark gaze through the mask. you maintained eye contact as you laid out with your hands tangled in the sheets.

lance loved filming you taking him, letting him fuck you. maybe it wasn't the most normal feeling. but all these fools paying money to see your tits, while he got to touch them. while he got to fuck you against the sheets every night, sometimes in other places of your small apartment. fucking you and getting paid for it, that seemed like not a bad way to make some cash.

nothing more beautiful than you with a small stack of fifty-dollar bills in your hand after a weekend of fucking through a box of condoms. however most of the time you worked on the pill and a prayer as lance fucked you. he had already broken enough condoms by being too rough with you.

and while a little stroll baby would be cute, a degree on your wall was more important. lance continued to film you and you bit your bottom lip for a moment. lance asked you how it felt and you replied, "fuck." you swallowed as you almost said his name, "hare, please. fuck, that's it. that's it."

he picked up the pace and your body shook as he fucked you feverishly, "gonna work you all night, bunny. how does that sound, give them their money's worth as i just ruin you. and if my cock gets tired, well, we have a whole collection of little friends to keep the night going." one time he spent half an hour rubbing a vibrator against your clit until you basically were clawing at him to stop and the safe-word was used. with the cameras turned off, he took care of you. he loved you and helped you calm down. but his kindness only turned you on once more and you gave him one last round before you were done.

you held onto the cover's tighter and said, "fuck, please." your eyes closed for a moment as felt the pleasure wash over you. fernando watched that video intently and felt his cock get slick with pre-cum as he gazed at your body being fucked like that.

missionary, spread out like a fine dining meal. fernando had his fair share of beautiful women but he was certain that you'd taste sweeter than any other. he knew he was getting close and continued to move his fist faster.

he was egged on by your moans and pathetic noises. how you withered on the bed as your lover continued to fuck you. a debauched sight of you being fucked quickly and roughly. lance's words were dirty for you and the camera, the sex was heated between the two of you for online enjoyment.

"tell them how good it feels." lance said, "c'mon, little rabbit. be a good girl and tell the nice people at home how it feels to be a cock hungry little slut." his words were like venomous honey, it stung but made you feel so good.

with a few more strokes of his cock at your needy response, fernando came around his fist and the phone almost toppled over when he shifted. he grabbed it with his clean hand and continued to watch while holding it. his cum covered hand stroked his cock at the sight of lance's hand around your throat as you both neared your orgasm.

you were near professionals, but still maintained a certain level of novice that drew fernando in. lance's sexual words were like honey, but his movements showed a lack of sexual knowledge. and while you still came, fernando imagined what a little bit of training for you both could do. he played with his still hard cock as lance choked you slightly and continued to fuck you. it was hard to fuck from the angle, but he did his best.

you both came at the same time and your eyes almost rolled back into your head at the intense feeling. you were near limp by the time lance stopped fucking you and you were coming down from the sexual feeling.

camera pointed in your face, if fernando looked close enough he could see the colour of your eyes and your unfocused gaze. lance asked in a low tone, "so, bunny. any other words to our audience?" his knee rubbed up against your achy slit.

you giggled a little, still out of it, "i wanna tell them, that i'm glad they get to watch me get fucked." then devolved into larger giggles and lance went for you and the video ended.

fernando was left in the glow of the thumbnail with his cock still erect in his hand. he had a feeling this was going to be a long, long night. because the image of your pretty tits and prettier pussy were burned into his mind. and it left him sexual desperate.

-

fernando was standing in line at the coffee shop on campus, he was quite tired after the escapade of your page last night. late into the evening you and lance had published two more videos.

each made the older man feel his grasp on sanity slip and he thought solely with his cock as he jerked off many more times. he almost dropped his coffee cup when he saw you. you were seated at a nearby table with your laptop open and your pen at your lips. you looked like you were over-thinking. lance was across from you, a coffee cup in his hand and his own laptop over. he was leaned a little more forward to admire you.

but when you giggled when he played with your hair, fernando knew it was hare and bunny. he had to compose himself before he continued walking. after he passed by, he looked over his shoulder and saw you looking at him. you gave him a friendly smile as if he didn't see you choke on cock last night.

fernando tried to forget about it, but while he was still in ear-shot, he heard lance say, "bunny, why don't we get dinner tonight before work." and gave air quotations.

and you giggled and said, "don't call me that outside." your voice dipped lower, but fernando heard. bunny and hare, and the wolf that masturbated to their little fuck sessions, all on the same campus. and as fernando would find out, in the same department. <3

[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˗

[shatterinseconds]

“Baby,” Lance says.

Keith snorts, loud and uncaring. “God no, not in a million years.”

“Alright.” Lance scratches out a line on his pad of paper. “Does that mean babe’s out too?”

Keith wrinkles his nose. “It’s not the best but tolerable.”

“We’ll note that as a strong maybe.” In which Lance actually does mark down a quick note to the side of the list, and Keith catches himself from rolling his eyes.

For the past week, they’ve been staying at Lance’s family home in Cuba while they decide on their next steps in a post Voltron, post war world. They rest on the back patio, facing the backyard that really extends into open land far beyond them, neighbors a mile away at least. It’s quiet and beautiful and even when the commotion of Lance’s entire family is present, it’s one of Keith’s new favorite places in the world. They watch Lance’s niece and nephew for the afternoon while Lance’s older brother runs errands and Lance’s mother prepares dinner.

Keith angles his head closer to Lance, though he’s still mostly blocked by the small table between them, and gestures to the list. “Is this really necessary?”

“Pet names are important to me,” Lance replies with a quirk to the corner of his mouth. The summer breeze, fresh off the ocean and carrying a thin taste of salt, curls through his brown hair. “Mullet is great but I need at least one more that’s affectionate.”

Keith scrunches his nose.

The thing is, all of this is new to Keith. The peace, the stability, having a permanent place to call home again, and… their relationship. They’ve been dancing around each other for years, as their teammates love to complain about, but officially being together, having the ability to call Lance his partner, boyfriend, lover? That all happened less than a couple weeks ago—and yet it already feels timeless.

Seeing Keith’s reluctance, Lance stands to relocate himself on Keith’s lap, settling his full weight on Keith’s thighs. Keith glares, though he moves his hands onto Lance’s hips and his fingers wiggle under Lance’s loose shirt to hunt for warm patches of skin. Lance tugs on his ears, guiding Keith to tilt his head and capture his mouth in a soft kiss. 

And what a lovely kiss it is.

“I’m trying to be nice by giving you a choice.” Lance laughs a little when they break apart, only to lean back down. He stops a hair’s breadth away from Keith’s mouth. When he speaks again, his breath drifts over Keith’s lips, a soft caress. “What about sweetheart, honey bunches, pickle?”

“Okay, now these are just getting ridiculous.” Keith wraps his arms around Lance’s waist, pulling him closer, and buries his nose into the crook of Lance’s neck.

“I don’t know,” Lance mutters, starting to absently play with Keith’s hair, twirling the long strands around his fingers. “I’m kinda partial to sweetheart.”

“Yeah, that’s not bad,” Keith admits as a faint blush rises on his pale cheeks. He tries to bury his face deeper to cover it, but he should’ve guessed how well that would work out.

A shit-eating grin stretches wide across Lance’s face; Keith can feel it against the side of his head. “I see we’ve found our winner.” Humming, Lance leans down toward Keith’s ear. “Sweetheart.”

Face glowing and mind reeling, Keith shoves Lance off his lap. “Shut up,” he lightly growls, mortified at his own reaction.

Lance arches his head back as he cackles from his spot on the ground, eventually flopping down and pillowing his head with his hands as he lazily stares up at Keith. That shit-eating grin refuses to fall off his face. “Yeah, this is going to be fun.”

And despite Keith’s own face remaining beet red, he can’t help but smile too.

[wren-em]

The second scenario that my brain came up with is that most of the mojo crew and most of the crew have to work together in a rescue mission because Bandy,Eira and Lance got captured in an anti-jury and anti-magic town. I've only really got why they get captured in my head and not much more details.Let's just say that Bandy can swap anything within a radius. Path 1 starts with a fight between the mojo crew vs the wonders.Where the fight goes in the story probably isn't really important because the only note I have for it in my head is that it can't be the fight where Glass gets shattered At some point, Bandy swaps himself, Lance and Eira with something from the nearby anti-jury and anti-magic town.Their fight continues and involves Lance stealing all of Eira's wepons.If it happens when Eira is refusing to use his magic, then this what causes him to use magic for the first time since ths team is fully formed.If Eira is more comfortable using his magic, then I imagine this is maybe the first apperance of his ice swords. Natrually, this is when guards show up. The three of them end up semi teaming up to try and failing to not get captured. Path 2 is basically the same but instead of continuing to fight each other, they get noticed immediately by guards and have a fight with the guards instead.Path 3 diveges from the fight because Lorelei shatters Glass.Instead of swapping them to an anti-jury and anti-magic town, Bandy instead swaps them into a town that is pro-magic and you-can-exist-jury.Eira immediately breaks off to try and find a spell or potential magic item that replicates what created Glass in the first place.Lance and Bandy obviously give chase because they're not going to let Eira out of their sights when they have ample oppertunity to capture him. Those two catch up to Eira before he can find the thing that'll esentially revive Glass.Eira is determined to find that thing.So he makes a deal with Lance and Bandy to get them to help him find it and get it on Dopple's person in exchange for him willing letting himself get captured and dragged to the rest of the wonders.They end up finding and stealing the thing. Since theft is a crime, all three book it to a bit of forest that puts the mojo team minus Eira near the end of Bandy's radius.They end up swapping the thing with one of Dopple's trinkets that they hope is still on his person and then they get arrested by boarder guards for an anti-jury and anti-magic town that are patrolling the forest that the town owns and that the three are currently standing in. Bandy and Lance obviously are members of the Wonders section of the Jury so they're not going to walk away but Eira is a different story. Obviously since there are two members of Jury, all three are going to the town to be safe on the guard's end but Eira isn't identifiably a problem. As far as the guards know, Eira doesn't have magic or isn't part of the Jury, but the two Jury members are saying that Eira is a magic user when they're questioned about Eira. So to be safe, they end up not letting Eira leave either. They probably get dragged to whoever is in charge of the town for some fate. As far as the rescue group in each path, path three is going to be the most tense but paths 1 and 2 aren't going to be tense free. Most likely, Moira and/or Heartless has to suggest a contract between the two teams that icludes a no capture clause. In path 3, I imagine Dopple and Loreli would be at each others throats and would probably have to be stopped from getting into a physical fight with each other.

something i think would be cool would be if there was like. an episode or chapter or whatever where like. the mojo crew and the wonders are like. forced to work together. maybe its to escape somewhere maybe its to solve a mystery maybe theres blackmail involved! who fucken knows! i just think itd be cool

[coco-loco-nut]

Book Club - Part 6

pairing: Lance Stroll x Reader, Grid x Reader

summary: you and lance have a talent for traumating the grid *insert emotional damage meme here*

requests open masterlist

———————————

It was safe to say that that you and Lance were still very much in your honeymoon phase when you got to testing. Both of you very tan from your weeks spent on the beach.

“Y/n! You surprised the world when you announced your marriage and name change, Anything you want to say about it?” One of your favorite interviewers asks you as you walk hand in hand to the paddock with Lance.

“Sure, yeah. Lance and I have been together for a long time, so getting married was just the natural next step. It was a small wedding with close friends and family. Regarding my new name, alittle over a year ago, Kimi offered to mentor me and we forged a very close bond. He is basically my father and his kids are my siblings, so with the blessing of the family I wanted to honor the relationship the best way I knew how. Racing under the Räikkönen name is such a huge honor and I can’t thank my dad and family enough for the honor,” you beam, more than happy to talk about your family.

“How did Kimi react when you told him you were taking his name both legally and when racing,” she asks, your joy infectious.

“He was so happy, I told him at the wedding, yeah. We are such a tight family, I can’t thank them enough for bringing me into their family and allowing me to take their last name. And Lance has been wonderful about it, he actually suggested hyphenating the names,” you tell her. Usually you are pretty tight lipped, but you with happily talk with her.

“Alright, onto what actually matters. How are you feeling going into testing with Red Bull?” she asks and you take a step back into your normal interview style.

“Good. I certainly miss Checo here, but the car feels good. We will see how testing goes and work from there,” Lance gives you a look that says you will be late and the journalist notices.

“Thanks for chatting, and congratulations,” she says and you nod in thanks before walking away.

“You look very hot today, Mrs Räikkönen-Stroll,” Lance says kissing the side of your head.

“Maybe so, but nothing compares to you post race,” your cheeks flame a little. Lance pulls you into a small alley between motorhomes. You are pressed against the wall as Lance kisses you, hands tangled in each other’s hair.

“OH MY GOD!” you hear Daniel shriek.

“MY EYES!” Valtteri screams. Lance quickly pulls away from you as the four of you look at each like deer in the headlights. Daniel and Valtteri quickly walk away, leaving you and Lance giggling like school kids.

The club atmosphere was off when you walked in, taking a seat beside Logan. Valtteri can’t look you in the eyes while Daniel isn’t sure whether his is proud or scarred for life.

“Fernando, I was not aware of your taste in books,” Nico says, a little flushed thinking about what they had to read.

“Yeah, a smut book? We do have innocent eyes here,” Kevin looks at you and Logan.

“Innocent?” Logan asks, a breathy laugh behind it.

“The beach scene?” Lewis suggests you all start on.

“The writing was phenomenal, the author really captured the emotions and sensations. It read so raw, so lifelike. It was one of the few times that art imitated life. She captured every intimate thought and feeling that a woman gets when she is having sex. I remember during the honeymoon when Lance and I did something similar on the private beach and wow, the author really nailed it,” you say, not quite realizing what you had just revealed to the group.

“Damn, Y/n, I didn’t realize you and Lance were freaks like that. Respect,” Daniel says, never being one to shy away from sex. Your face twists in mortification at what you unintentionally revealed. The guys look at eachother mortified as well.

You were an adult, they knew that, but in their subconscious mind you haven’t done anything more than kiss a boy. That’s how you end up following them as they storm across the paddock.

“Logan! Help me stop them,” you look at him with panic in your eyes as the group nears the Aston Martin garage.

“Hell no, this is so funny,” he says and you huff. You see the guys cornering Lance.

“YOU RUINED OUR DAUGHTER?!” Fernando yells at his teammate. You just want to sink into a corner and die, similar to how Lance appears.

“Our precious, innocent, child. What’s next? Logan has slept with a girl?” Valtteri says.

“HEY!” Logan yells in offense. The guys’ faces drain of more color.

“You too? This isn’t ok,” Kevin says and you spot Max and Lando trying not to laugh, the two of them having seen the commotion and wanted to check it out.

“I think you guys are forgetting that the three of us are consenting adults, we aren’t kids anymore,” you say softly, Logan and Lance standing by you, the latter still scared.

“Tell that to Kimi,” Nico chuckles and you groan at the mention of your dad.

“Alright, stop harassing my teammate, we have meetings,” Max breaks everyone up, leading you away.

“Thanks, Maxie,” you let out a breath of relief.

“Do I want to know?” he laughs.

“No, I don’t think so,” you return his laugh. You just hope that your book club meeting will be smoother tomorrow morning.

The next morning, you walk into the room happy and perky as usual.

“You okay, Fernando?” Logan asks when he notices Fernando on his third cup of coffee and the tiredness in his eyes.

“The hotel has thin walls. My hotel room shares a wall with Lance’s,” Fernando says, giving you a look that makes you blush in embarrassment, wishing the earth would open up and eat you whole.

“It is natural. They are young and in love, maybe we will have a baby Stroll soon,” Lewis says and your eyes light up.

“We will!” you say, quickly pulling out your phone. The older drivers hearts sink, all slightly panicking. “Oh my god, I’m not pregnant guys, we are just getting a puppy,” you laugh at their faces.

“I would like to make a motion to kick Y/n out of the book club due to the amount of emotional distress she has given the members this weekend,” Valtteri says, and your jaw drop.

“Alright alright, but you don’t understand the almost of trauma I went through having rooms that neighbored all of you during my first year here,” you point your finger at all of them.

“Motion denied,” Daniel sighs, knowing he was probably one of the main culprits.

“So, this dog?” Nico says, changing the subject.

instagram

y/username EVERYONE MEET MY BABY!

since I’m too young to have a baby (according to the club) here is my baby holding our baby, Milo Stroll ❤️🐾🐶

logansargeant look at how big his paws are! he’s gonna be a big boy 😍

y/username his favorite uncle 🥰

danielricciardo @y/username I take offense to that

user1 y/n really had me in the first half

nicohulkenberg she had us too the first time she brought up Milo in conversation

lancestroll what a hot mama 😮‍💨

y/username nothing compared to the absolute DILF holding my sweet puppy in the picture

georgerussel MY EYES! MY INNOCENT EYES

[mediocre-shark-tales]

The Debut

Masterlist

The news hit the F1 world like a thunderclap—a 20 year old American driver, a complete unknown, was stepping into the Aston Martin seat mid-season. One of the few rookies to join halfway through the season, she was brought in to cover for Lance Stroll, sidelined potentially indefinitely by a severe injury. Speculation about his replacement had run wild, but no one expected it to be someone with almost no public history, let alone a driver no one had ever seen outside their helmet and racing suit. Yet Aston Martin was now ready to unveil her to the world—a driver who had only been known by her number, 66, and the nickname “Daredevil.”

In the week leading up to her debut, Aston Martin teased fans with cryptic photos and voice-modulated videos. Finally, they dropped a fifteen-minute video titled Welcome to AMRTC Driver 66, capturing her first day with the team. It opened with clips of the team speculating about her skill, personality, and confidence, overlaid with shots of her walking through the building without truly showing more than her shoes. Then, as a black screen lingered, the opening chords of “Real Gone” from Cars filled the silence. The video cut to the mystery driver getting suited up, each layer adding to her mystique, until she finally took to the track in the new car. A montage of high-speed laps displayed her undeniable skill and poise until the song slowly faded, revealing her standing still, helmet off, with curled hair framing her face as she turned toward the camera for the first time. This was quickly followed by a long ‘get to know me’ interview.

From the moment she arrived, the paddock buzzed with whispers. Her face was unfamiliar to the veteran drivers, but rumors hinted at her racing roots from leagues around the world. The fans, media, and even her new teammate waited with bated breath, eager to see if this newcomer could hold her own against the sport’s giants.

Y/n pov

I stepped into the Aston Martin garage with Marcus, my manager, beside me. My headphones were on, the bass of my favorite race weekend hype playlist thumping as I took in the scene. Mechanics and engineers glanced up from their tasks, eyes darting over to me before resuming their work on the cars and equipment, all in preparation for Practice Day 1. I’d skipped the usual media day—Aston Martin had somehow managed to get the FIA’s approval for me to skip it, which suited me just fine.

Marcus guided me through the bustling garage, giving me a quick rundown of everything before leading me to my driver’s room in the Aston Martin hospitality suite. As I took a seat, nerves bubbled up—I still hadn’t met Fernando Alonso. As confident as I felt in the car, the idea of meeting a living legend, someone who’d been racing since before I was even born, was something else entirely.

For as long as I could remember, Fernando Alonso had been my idol. I’d spent years studying his every move on the track, even adopting his aggressive, calculated driving style until I’d eventually developed my own. But knowing that I’d be racing alongside him—that I’d actually get to learn from him first hand—felt surreal, like stepping into a dream I’d chased my entire life.

That all changed the moment I actually met him. As I walked into the garage, fully suited up in my fireproofs with my helmet tucked under my arm, I could feel the weight of the moment settling in. After a quick weigh-in, Marcus led me over to Alonso. For a few awkward seconds, he barely glanced my way, his focus elsewhere until someone pointed me out to him. Around us, everyone was smiling and looking expectant—everyone except him. I swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in my throat. I hadn’t expected him to be thrilled about my arrival, but his distant, unreadable expression stung in a way I hadn’t anticipated.

As I approached, He looked me up and down with the slightest hint of a frown.

"So, they think you're ready to jump into this mid-season?" he asked, crossing his arms. "I wonder if you actually understand what that means."

I blinked, taken aback by his bluntness. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't," I shot back, trying to keep my tone even.

He raised an eyebrow. "A lot of drivers think they’re ready," he replied, his voice cool. "But being ready means more than just showing up with confidence. Winning is a mindset, an instinct. It’s not just something you decide you have one day."

I felt my hands tighten around my helmet. "Maybe it’s not something you decide—but it is something you prove. I’m here to race, not get your approval, and I’ll show you on track that my style is nothing like what you've seen before."

A spark flashed in his eyes, though his expression remained unchanged. "We’ll see if your style is worth anything," he said, a hint of challenge in his voice. "Just remember that here, being good isn’t enough."

Without another word, I turned on my heel and headed toward my car, trying to shake off the sting of his words. As I disappeared around the corner, Fernando watched me go, the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Once my car was ready, I climbed in, settling into the seat as the engineers moved in to strap me down. Glancing up at the screen, I watched past race footage from this track with this very car. They wanted me to see what I’d be up against—what I needed to match and, ideally, surpass.

A moment later, Marcus crouched down into my line of sight, flanked by two guys—one older and serious, the other younger, with a bit of a wide-eyed look.

“Y/N, this is Ben,” Marcus began, gesturing to the older man. “He’ll be running your radio. But he’s also training Landon here,” he nodded toward the younger guy, “to be your personal radio engineer. Since there’s still a good part of the season left, you’ll need someone who gets you on and off the track. Landon’s been watching your last F2 season, studying up to learn your style. Today’s practice sessions will help you both adjust to your new roles together.”

I nodded and gave them a thumbs up—they wouldn’t hear me over the helmet or the noise of the garage anyway, but my excitement was clear.

It was finally time. My doorman stepped out, giving me the signal that I was clear to go. I eased the car forward, carefully navigating my way onto the main pit road. Aston Martin’s garage was positioned right at the front of the entrance, but it also meant the longest stretch before merging onto the track. As I rolled past each team’s garage, I felt eyes following my every move, curious and assessing. They’d all heard the buzz about the new “mystery driver,” and now here I was.

Once I hit the open track, becoming the first car out on the tarmac, my radio crackled to life with Landon’s voice. “Okay, Y/N, this session is all about finding your sweet spot with the car. If anything feels even slightly off, let me know immediately. For now, just get comfortable with the track. We’ll start gathering real data in the next session.”

I pressed the radio button and replied with a quick, “Yes, sir,” a grin hidden behind my helmet as I pushed down on the accelerator, ready to make my mark.

I took a deep breath, the roar of the engine and the blur of the pit wall filling my senses as I pushed down on the accelerator. The Italian GP track spread out before me in a symphony of curves and straightaways, each turn already embedded in my mind. I’d studied this circuit obsessively—every corner, every curb, every shift in gradient. But now, with the Aston Martin beneath me, I could finally feel it for myself, each bump and nuance translating through the car with perfect clarity.

As I took on the first few turns, my instincts kicked in—a mix of smooth control and split-second aggression. Where other drivers might ease off in preparation for a hairpin, I’d mastered the art of late braking, letting the car edge just to the point of losing grip before snapping it back with a calculated shift in weight. I slid through the Variante del Rettifilo, cutting a sharp angle through the chicane, my hands steady as I kept my foot down. Each move, each turn was a test, not just for me, but for the entire team watching my data back in the garage.

The name Franco Colapinto kept flashing in my mind. I knew he’d have an impressive debut mid-season, and I could feel a competitive drive swelling within me as I attacked the track, eager to match and even exceed his potential mark. Exiting the second Lesmo, I made a mental note of how much grip the car could hold, the feeling just right as I powered down the straight toward Ascari. I couldn’t afford a single misstep. If I was going to prove myself, this was my moment to do it—full control at breakneck speed.

“Looking good, Y/N,” Landon’s voice crackled through the radio, but I was already focused on the final corner. The Parabolica curved ahead, inviting me to test my limits, and I didn’t hesitate. I took it wide before tightening on the exit, feeling the car grip to the line as I pushed the throttle to the max, the car launching down the home straight. 

“Love you, Landon, but please don’t speak before I’m accelerating out of the corner,” I said quickly over the radio, just as I straightened out and hit the next curve.

There was a pause before his voice crackled back, a bit sheepishly. “Yes, ma’am. My apologies.”

I chuckled, the corners of my mouth lifting behind my helmet. “No worries, I’ll have you perfected in no time.”

With that, I settled back into my rhythm, feeling the weight of the car and every detail of the track imprinting itself in my mind. Soon enough, the first practice session came to an end, and I guided the car back to the pits. As I parked and the engineers moved in, I took a moment to pull off my helmet, still buzzing from the thrill of my first laps. This track, this team, and this car were quickly becoming home.

Time Skip -

Race day had arrived, bringing the tension and thrill of my F1 debut, but the sting of yesterday’s qualifying disaster still lingered. I’d ended up in P18, an unfortunate consequence of a poorly timed red flag that left the five of us at the back with no real shot at setting a solid lap time. I tried to brush it off as I prepared to join the rest of the grid for the drivers' parade.

Dressed in team gear, I wore one extra item that had become a part of my ritual. A few months ago, I lost my mother to cancer, and since then, I’d made sure to honor her at every race. Something on me, whether it was my gear or my helmet, would always bear a symbol of her favorite animal: the sea turtle. She had chosen it after learning the turtle’s symbolism of wisdom, endurance, and trusting one’s path, all qualities that described her so well. On each of my helmets, a small sea turtle was etched into the design. And when I wasn’t wearing the helmet, I kept a sea turtle necklace with me, its pendant filled with a touch of her ashes, as if she were here with me, watching over this pivotal moment.

I slipped on my headphones, tuning into my “reminiscing” playlist, letting myself reflect in the few quiet moments before the chaos. “How Do I Say Goodbye” by Dean Lewis filled my ears, a song that resonated now more than ever. My F2 team had given me the remainder of the season off after my mother’s passing, telling the media I was undergoing intense training for my reserve role. Nobody outside my close circle knew the truth, and it felt like a private thread of grief I carried alone, my mother’s memory grounding me as I faced the reality of my first F1 race without her.

I followed the line of drivers, hanging back, unnoticed by most. No one had approached me—not to chat, nor to dismiss me. They’d fallen naturally into their cliques, small pockets of friendships built over countless races together. The trailer pulled up, and I was the last to step aboard, taking a quiet corner near the back. My gaze drifted over the crowd as I toyed with the sea turtle pendant around my neck, a small comfort. If there was ever a moment I needed my mom, it was now. I imagined her smiling at my awkwardness, maybe even scolding the guys to show a bit of gentlemanly grace. Her humor and warmth were all I had left to keep close in this overwhelming moment.

Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder, pulling me from my thoughts. I pulled off my headphones and turned to see a smiling Franco Colapinto standing there, his easy grin contagious. My smile mirrored his as I placed my headphones around my neck, grateful for the distraction.

“Hola! I’ve been waiting to get a chance to talk to you,” he said, his tone smooth and friendly.

“Hey! I didn’t think anyone would come over,” I replied, surprised but pleased. “It’s nice to finally meet you. How are you feeling about today?”

“Excited and a little nervous, to be honest. It’s not every day you get to race in Formula 1, right? I’m sure you feel the same way.”

I nodded, feeling a wave of camaraderie. “Definitely. It’s been a whirlwind, but I’m ready to show what I can do out there.”

Franco's eyes sparkled with encouragement. “You’ve got this! I saw your lap times from practice; you really have a gift. Just stay focused and trust your instincts. We’re in this together after all.”

“Thanks! That means a lot, especially coming from you. I know you’ve been making waves already too,” I said, my confidence growing.

“Just trying to keep up!” he laughed, his energy infectious. “How about we make a pact? Let’s push each other out there and see how far we can go. We might even surprise some people!”

“Deal!” I grinned, feeling the excitement of a budding friendship. “I’d love to have someone to share this experience with. After all, it’s always more fun with friends.”

Franco nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly! Let’s catch up after the race too—maybe grab a bite? I think we could both use a little downtime after all this craziness.” He blushed slightly, the nerves from the question filling him. 

“Sounds perfect,” I replied, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. As we exchanged a few more words, the nervous weight on my shoulders lifted, replaced by the warmth of a new friendship that made this moment feel just a little less daunting.

Time flew by, and before I knew it, we were dropped back at the paddock. With no distractions, I headed straight for my garage, ready to change and get my head in the game. As I pulled on each piece of my race gear, my heart thudded louder, like it was syncing up with the pulse of the race track. I pressed play on my go-to race day anthem, letting "Real Gone" by Sheryl Crow blast through my headphones on repeat. If this song didn’t put me in the zone, nothing would—it was basically my theme song at this point.

Finally dressed, I took out my helmet. Today, I’d be wearing something special. Up until now, I’d been using my usual helmet, but today was different. This one was for my mom. The design was everything she’d loved: a watercolor sea turtle on each side, painted in her honor. And the top? Like Max’s iconic lion, but this time, it was the face of a sea turtle, wise and serene, watching over me. I could almost hear her laugh as I ran my fingers over the shell details. This one’s for you, Mom.

Leaving the driver’s room, I headed towards the garage, spotting Fernando getting weighed, his usual intense focus evident even with all the last-minute prep happening around us. I gave him a nod, but he was too busy to notice. The team was buzzing, everyone moving with that pre-race electricity.

Before long, I was strapped into the car, staring down the rows of vehicles lined up before me. Silence filled my helmet as I mentally ran through my race strategy. My goal was clear: make it into the points. It wasn’t just about my debut anymore; it was about proving that I belonged here. I’d shut up the critics, the doubters, the ones who said I didn’t have what it took. One pass at a time, I’d show them exactly why I was here.

With just minutes left before the race began, the team pulled the last of the covers from my car and gave it one final check before stepping back off the track. A calm washed over me, the nerves melting into pure focus. It was time.

As the lights went out for the formation lap, I pressed the pedal, feeling the power beneath me roar to life. One by one, the cars in front began moving, and I eased into line, the vibrations of the track buzzing through my hands and up my arms. As I made my way around the circuit, I took in the crowds, fans pressed up against the barricades, flags waving, people cheering, everyone vying for a glimpse of the action before the real race even began. Some held banners and signs with drivers’ names, a few even with my number and the sea turtle logo—my symbol.

I could feel the weight of all those eyes, every fan, every camera trained on the car, and I let it sink in. This was it. For a split second, my mind flashed back to all the hard work, the sleepless nights, and every lap it took to reach this moment. I had something to prove to the fans, to the team, to everyone who’d doubted me. But right now, the only thing on my mind was to trust my path—just like the sea turtle my mom had loved so much.

As the formation lap came to an end, the tension in the air shifted into something electric. The cars lined up on the grid, engines rumbling in anticipation, and I felt a surge of adrenaline course through me. The lights began to sequence, and I focused on the start, visualizing my strategy for the race. This was my moment, and I was ready.

The lights went out, and with a roar, I launched off the line. The initial surge was exhilarating; I was quick on the throttle, feeling the car respond to my commands as I made my way into Turn 1. I immediately positioned myself on the inside line, expertly avoiding the chaos of the cars jostling for position. I could hear the crackle of the radio as Landon encouraged me, reminding me to stay calm and focused.

By the time I reached the first series of corners, I was already gaining ground. I overtook a struggling driver on the outside, timing my move perfectly as I accelerated past him, narrowly avoiding a collision. The thrill of passing my first competitor sent a rush of confidence through me. I could see Franco up ahead, holding steady in P15, and I set my sights on catching him.

As I maneuvered through the tighter sections of the track, I began to find my rhythm. I was in the zone, my mind clear, my instincts sharp. Every corner felt like an opportunity, and I seized each one with determination. The roar of the crowd grew louder with every pass I made, and I could feel the energy fueling my drive.

By the end of the first five laps, I had already climbed up to P15. The rush of adrenaline pushed me further as I entered the sixth lap, where I saw two cars ahead battling for position. I took advantage of their fight, threading my car between them at just the right moment. It felt like a dance, fluid and precise. I could hear Landon’s voice in my ear, excitement evident as I made my way to P12.

With each lap, I continued to push, my confidence growing as I settled into the flow of the race. I navigated through the midfield, expertly carving my way around each driver that stood in my path. Before I knew it, I was in P10, and the battle for the final point was heating up. I had Franco in my sights, and he was locked in a fierce duel with a driver ahead. I took a deep breath, my focus zeroing in on the track ahead.

As we approached the DRS zone, I positioned myself perfectly behind Franco, ready to capitalize on the situation. The moment the DRS activated, I unleashed the power of my car, speeding past him as I made my way into P9. A rush of exhilaration flooded over me—I was in the points! I could hardly believe it. The realization that I had come from P18 to P9 within 2/3s of the race filled me with a sense of accomplishment and the determination to keep pushing forward. With my mother’s spirit guiding me, I 2ould fight for better positions. 

The final laps flew by in a blur, each corner, each straight a chance to cement my place in this race. I held P9 fiercely, defending against anyone who dared to challenge me, pushing the car to its limits while staying calm under pressure. As I crossed the finish line, a wave of relief and triumph washed over me, the weight of the entire race lifting in an instant. My radio crackled with life, and suddenly the cheers of the team filled my helmet, their voices a symphony of celebration.

“P9! Absolutely incredible, y/n!” Landon’s voice shouted, brimming with pride. “You did it, you’re in the points on your debut!”

I could hear Marcus chiming in, his excitement nearly drowning out the others, “You’ve made history today. Unbelievable drive—everyone here is beyond proud!”

A smile broke across my face as I took a moment to let it all sink in. The crowd’s cheers blended with the voices in my ear, my heart racing with pure exhilaration. I lifted a hand in a quiet tribute to my mom, feeling her presence there on the track. This was just the beginning—I’d proven I belonged here. 

Pulling into parc fermé, I powered down the car, feeling the silence wrap around me as the engine’s roar faded. Just as I started climbing out, I heard someone shout my name over the buzz of the paddock. I turned and saw Franco charging toward me, a huge grin plastered on his face. Before I could react, he reached me, practically tackling me in a bear hug as he lifted me off my feet and spun me around.

“You raced beautifully, hermosa!” he yelled, his excitement infectious. I couldn’t help but laugh, caught up in his energy as he set me back down.

“And you! That defense was insane—I thought I’d never get around you!” I replied, still catching my breath. We grinned at each other, peeling off our helmets and balaclavas, both flushed and exhilarated.

“Seriously,” he said, eyes bright, “for a debut race? You were unstoppable. I knew you’d make waves, but that was something else.”

“Thanks, Franco,” I said, feeling the pride and relief mix with a new rush of excitement. “And I know that won’t be the last time I’m chasing you down.”

“Can’t wait for it,” he replied with a laugh. We shared a nod, silently acknowledging the start of something bigger between us. 

As we pulled away, someone called out for us. I turned, and to my surprise, racing legend Lewis Hamilton was walking over, looking exhausted but with a warm, genuine smile. "That was spectacular from both of you," he said, nodding at Franco and me. "I can’t wait to watch the highlights later. You both defended and overtook with skill today—I’m excited to see how you both keep improving."

Franco and I exchanged a quick look of shared amazement and thanked him, both of us a bit starstruck. Just then, Alex appeared, pulling Franco aside, leaving me with Lewis.

“So, y/n,” he began, his tone more serious now, “I actually wanted to have a word with you. I didn’t want to overwhelm you earlier, so I thought now might be the best time—when your spirits are high and you’ve got a bit of space to breathe.” I nodded, curious, as he continued.

“I know it can be tough to find real allies here,” he said gently. “Especially as someone who stands out in a sport that doesn’t have many like you.” His words hit home; I’d felt the isolation creeping in, even with the excitement of today’s race. “I went through a similar thing when I started. I want you to know, if you ever need a friend or someone to talk to, I’m here. Whether it’s for advice, venting, or just someone who gets it—don’t hesitate to find me.”

A wave of gratitude washed over me, and I managed a smile, feeling the pressure I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying start to lift. “Thank you, Lewis. That really means a lot,” I said, trying to convey how much his words reassured me. He gave a small, understanding nod, like he knew exactly what I was feeling.

“Anytime,” he said with a kind smile. “You’ve got a bright future ahead. Just keep your head up.” With a reassuring nod, Lewis turned and walked back toward his team, leaving me standing there with a sense of both calm and determination. I took a deep breath, letting his words sink in, feeling a surge of confidence. 

Gathering myself, I turned and headed back to my team’s garage, the noise of the paddock buzzing around me, but somehow, I felt more focused than ever. As I walked, a few crew members caught my eye, giving me nods and pats on the back, their own excitement mirroring my own. 

I saw Marcus waiting with a grin, surrounded by engineers who all looked just as thrilled. I knew I’d made a mark today—not just on the track but on the people who believed in me. And as I joined them, I couldn’t help but smile.

[catsushinyakajima]

KLANCE FIC RECS FOR THE NEW YEARS RECAP PART TWO

Ghost of the Future & Shadow of the Past by wittyy_name/@wittyy-name, Zizzani/@zizzani | 300k+ | Time-travel | Dual fic

These fics were genuinely so. What the fuck. Oh my god. I came into it not expecting too much and I came out of it like ahjhsihfs. I’m so so upset that it isn’t finished, that too right before the last chapter. There are so, so many good aspects to this fic. First off: the plot and its delivery. The idea of switching places with a past version of yourself is not an uncommon plotline. However, having the story be split into two stories following both the past and the present with each chapter parallelling each other was flawlessly executed. I would read one chapter where they would do xyz which affected the past, and then be so excited to see what happens next, and then be even more excited that I could simply read how it happened in the past. It felt like I was time itself, reading through parts of these characters' lives non-linearly. The KL chemistry is beautiful, the plot is beautiful, I sincerely love it.

it’s five o’clock somewhere by soulreapin/@soulreapin | 8.1k | Bartending AU | First Date

This fic was so so soft and funny. There were parts of the fic where I was so floored by the comedic writing that I was like damn why didn't I write this? Also, their first date is just so cute!

Run into the Bright Lights by peanutbutterapple/ https://hugoweasley.tumblr.com/ | 36.8k | April Fools Day | Canon Compliant

I've never seen an april fools day fic before and omg I wish there were more. The miscommunication between KL is so genuine and not a product of stupid actions. There's beautiful hurt/comfort. I've reread this two billion times.

AITA by perfchan/@jacqulinetan | 34k | Post-War

This fic is so so funny and just. It sums up the whole let down of returning back to civilian life after war very well and the way Lance shuts people out. So so good.

to breathe in this mirage by existwound/@existwound | 34k+ | Time-travel | Domestic KL

This fic is so good!?!? Astra writes KL fighting so well and it leads up to beautiful ANGST which leads to beautiful hurt/comfort. This fic is not finished but I love it so so so much.

Spider-Man Klance AU by iwriteshipsnotsailthem | 102.6k | Spider-man!Keith

This author captures the essence of spiderman in a fic so much. Many other spider-man aus will focus more on ships than the spiderman aspect, but this author balances it so well. There's a perfect blend of action and romance.

finally, you're mine by nezueye/@nezueye | 7.2k | Friends to Lovers | Modern AU

This has to be hands down one of the best fluff fics ever. Every scene with KL, which was all of them, was so satisfying and cute. I loved it so much I reread this all the time.

Even the People in Your Dreams Will Lie to You by popering/@roylustang | 314k+ | torture | angst

This fic is INSANE!!! Literally!! There's so much thought and detail that goes into the worldbuilding of the fic despite the world literally being canon VLD! This is a fic where every detail counts, and where you yourself might doubt your hindsight and knowledge too. I feel so bad for everyone in this story, and I eagerly await the last chapter (author take ur time w it tho plz)

my my, how can i resist you? by nikkiRA | 1.7k | Est Relationship | Watching Mamma Mia

This is a follow up to a fic where KL get together, but this snippet just has my heart. It's so beautiful to see the way Keith loves Lance.

what makes you beautiful by seventies | 4.5k | MMA!Keith x Nurse!Lance

The funniest fi in the world. I wish I knew the author IRL so I could laugh at their jokes everyday. They're so funny. This fic is so so funny.

I love you more than fried chicken by AsterikaMay/@catsushinyakajima | 9.1k words | Asexual!Lance

This is one of my fics...I included it cuz I'm ace and I LOVE ace fics LMAO

part one here

[amirasainz]

I was wondering if you could write a Pierre x reader where it’s kinda like your lance one where they’re having a photo shoot but things get spicy

Oh my god. It's been so long since I wrote an Amira Sainz story. I thought this was the perfect opportunity to write one again.

Guys, you can always send me requests for anything❤️

Enjoy reading and send some requests

-xoxo, Babygirl 💋

No Part 2

The Perfect Shot

The sun hung high in the sky, its golden rays shimmering off the azure waves surrounding the luxurious yacht. The gentle rocking of the boat created a soothing rhythm, the sound of laughter mingling with the soft lapping of water against the hull. Amira stood at the edge of the deck, the salty breeze playing with her long, dark hair. She wore a stunning black swimsuit that hugged her curves perfectly, accentuating her figure. The elegant jewellery she adorned sparkled like stars against her sun-kissed skin, while her high heels lent her an air of sophistication even on a yacht.

Pierre leaned against the railings, wearing nothing but stylish swimming trunks that showcased his athletic build. He adjusted his sleek sunglasses, his heart racing at the sight of Amira. They were friends, of course—he had spent many weekends with the Sainz family, enjoying their hospitality and bonding with Carlos. But today, it felt different; the atmosphere was charged with a tension that made Pierre’s palms sweat.

“Are you ready, Amira?” he called, a playful grin spreading across his face.

“Just a second!” she replied, turning to face him, the sunlight illuminating her face. “I want to make sure I look perfect for these shots!”

Pierre stepped closer, trying to keep his composure. “You already look perfect. You’re going to steal the spotlight, not just from the yacht but from the ocean itself.”

Amira blushed slightly, her cheeks tinged with pink as she adjusted the necklace around her neck. “Stop it, you’re making me nervous!” She giggled, brushing her hair behind her ear. “This is just a fun photoshoot, right?”

“Fun? Absolutely! But also a chance for me to get some incredible pictures of you,” Pierre teased, stepping back to take a mental snapshot of her. “Just think of it as practice for when you become a model.”

“Me? A model?” Amira laughed, tilting her head in disbelief. “I think I’d trip and fall before the camera even clicked!”

“Not with me around to catch you,” Pierre shot back, his heart skipping at the thought. “Besides, you’ll be too busy stunning everyone with that smile of yours.”

With a playful eye roll, Amira joined him on the deck. “Okay, let’s get started before I change my mind!”

The photographer, a well-known professional with a reputation for capturing breathtaking moments, was already set up with his camera, ready to catch every smile, laugh, and spontaneous moment. “Alright, you two! Let’s get some warm-up shots. Amira, why don’t you sit on Pierre’s lap for the first pose?”

Amira’s eyes widened, and she shot a glance at Pierre. He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant despite the rapid beating of his heart. “It’ll be fun, I promise.”

With a hesitant smile, she sat down on his lap, her heart racing for entirely different reasons now. The warmth of Pierre’s body radiated against her, and she couldn’t help but notice how close they were. “Is this okay?” she asked, her voice a mix of excitement and nervousness.

“Perfect,” Pierre whispered, leaning in slightly so their faces were mere inches apart. “Just relax and have fun.”

As the camera clicked, Pierre wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her securely. “You know, you look absolutely stunning like this,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. “The sea has nothing on your beauty.”

Amira giggled, feeling a thrill from the compliment. “You’re just saying that to make me blush!”

“I would never lie about something so important,” he replied, his tone playful yet sincere. “Trust me, you’re the highlight of my day.”

As they posed, Amira felt more comfortable, her laughter mingling with Pierre’s teasing remarks. He whispered sweet nothings that made her heart flutter, each comment bringing them closer. “What if I told you I’d never want to take my eyes off you?” he murmured, leaning closer.

“Is that a line?” she asked, a teasing smile on her lips.

“Maybe it’s a promise,” he replied softly, his eyes sparkling behind the lenses of his sunglasses.

After a few more poses, the photographer suggested they change locations to the front of the yacht. “Let’s try a more dynamic shot! Amira, stand at the edge while Pierre holds your waist from behind.”

Amira moved to the edge, her heart pounding as Pierre stepped behind her. She felt his hands at her waist, grounding her, and the ocean breeze blew her hair back dramatically. “Are you scared?” he asked, his voice low, sending shivers down her spine.

“A little,” she admitted, glancing back at him. “But I feel safe with you.”

“Good,” he replied, leaning in closer, his lips almost brushing her ear. “Just remember to breathe. And if you fall, I’ll catch you.”

The photographer snapped away, capturing the moments of joy, laughter, and undeniable chemistry between them. As Amira leaned forward to pose, Pierre’s grip tightened, and he couldn’t resist whispering, “You know, if you keep looking that beautiful, I might just have to keep you on this yacht forever.”

“Is that so?” she teased, her heart racing. “And what would we do here? Just take photos all day?”

Pierre chuckled, his face lighting up. “Well, I can think of a few other things…” His voice trailed off, leaving the implication hanging in the air, thick with tension.

“Oh really? Like what?” Amira prompted, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Like maybe having a little dance party on the deck, just us and the ocean,” he suggested, the playful glint in his eyes making her laugh. “Or a sunset picnic, where I can show you my cooking skills… or lack thereof.”

Amira’s laughter rang out, bright and genuine. “I’d love that, but we might need to stick to takeout unless you plan to burn the yacht down!”

“Touché! Let’s focus on the photoshoot for now,” Pierre said, laughing. “But remember, I have plenty of ideas.”

As they continued to pose, the sun began to set, casting a warm golden hue over everything. Pierre’s playful side came out as he tried to make Amira laugh in every shot, pulling funny faces and whispering the most ridiculous compliments. “You know, if you don’t stop being this cute, I might really fall for you,” he joked, though a part of him meant every word.

“Good luck with that! I’m pretty clumsy,” she replied, laughing as she adjusted her hair.

Pierre smirked, “Clumsy is charming! It’s like a bonus point in the dating world.”

“Oh really? Is that how it works?” Amira shot back, raising an eyebrow playfully.

“It’s my philosophy,” he said, “and I might just have to test it out someday.”

Amira felt a warmth spread through her at his words, a flutter of excitement dancing in her chest. “Maybe we should make a deal then,” she suggested, her eyes glinting mischievously.

“A deal?” Pierre raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Yes! If you can make me laugh in the next few poses, I’ll agree to a sunset picnic,” she said, her smile infectious.

“Challenge accepted!” he grinned. “You won’t know what hit you.”

With renewed energy, they continued posing. Pierre made silly faces, spun around, and even tried to dance, making Amira laugh uncontrollably. The photographer captured every moment, but it was the chemistry between them that truly shone through the lens.

Finally, the photographer suggested a final pose as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with streaks of pink and orange. “Let’s do something romantic. Amira, sit on the edge, and Pierre, come behind her again, but this time, wrap your arms around her waist and pull her close.”

Amira’s breath caught as she followed the direction. She perched on the edge of the yacht, feeling the cool breeze against her skin. Pierre stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, his chest pressed against her back. “You’re going to fall!” she teased, turning her head to look at him.

“I’ve got you, don’t worry,” he whispered, his breath tickling her neck. “Just hold on tight.”

As they posed, Pierre leaned closer, his lips almost grazing her skin. “You know, this moment is perfect,” he murmured, a seriousness replacing the playfulness. “I can’t imagine sharing it with anyone else.”

Amira felt a rush of heat flood her cheeks. “You’re making me blush again!”

“That’s my job,” Pierre said, a playful smirk on his face. “Now smile for the camera, beautiful.”

As the photographer captured the moment, Amira turned her head slightly, and their lips brushed ever so lightly. Both froze, the air thick with tension as their eyes met. Pierre’s heart raced, and he felt a rush of boldness. “Amira, I…”

Before he could finish, Amira interrupted, her voice barely a whisper. “Maybe we should focus on the photos…”

But Pierre couldn’t resist the urge. “What if I told you I really like you, Amira? Like, a lot,” he confessed, his voice low and sincere.

Her eyes widened, a mix of surprise and delight. “Really?” she asked, searching his face for sincerity.

“Absolutely. You’re amazing—funny, sweet, and beautiful. I can’t help it,” he admitted, his arms tightening around her as if to emphasize his words.

Amira felt a rush of warmth in her chest. “I had no idea you felt that

°••°°••°°••°°••°°••°°••°°••°°••°°••°°••°°••°

The conference room buzzed with energy as Carlos and Charles sat across from each other, going over strategy for the upcoming race. The air was thick with anticipation until Carlos's phone buzzed incessantly on the table.

“¿Qué demonios?!” Carlos exclaimed, his eyes widening as he glanced at the screen. Photos of Amira in her black swimsuit, giggling and wrapped in Pierre’s arms on the yacht, flooded his notifications.

“Carlos?” Charles asked, noticing the sudden shift in his friend’s demeanor.

Carlos stood up, pacing the room, his fists clenching. “¡Maldita sea! This is unacceptable!” he swore in Spanish, frustration boiling over. “What the hell was Pierre thinking?”

Charles, looking pale, muttered, “I didn’t know… I thought they were just friends…”

Carlos shot him a look, his protective instincts kicking in. “Just friends? Look at those pictures! He’s all over her!”

Charles buried his head in his hands, his world crumbling. “Oh my God, please, no... Amira, no,” he murmured, instinctively praying in Italian, “Per favore, proteggila!”

Fred, sitting at the head of the table, sighed heavily, clearly done with the chaos. “Calm down, Carlos! You’re acting like a child. We have a meeting!”

“Not until I deal with this,” Carlos shot back, determination etched on his face. “I’m going to strangle Pierre!”

“Calm down before you end up on the front page of the tabloids,” Fred replied, exasperated, rubbing his temples.

As Carlos continued to pace, Charles whispered a silent prayer for Amira’s safety and asked God to give him the chance to do a photoshoot with her next.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Sibling Rivalry {3}

Pairing: F1 drivers (platonic) x fem!reader Summary: The rift you have caused comes to a destructive head when summer breaks is over. Warnings: 18+ only, lots of bad language, crash, injuries, angst WC: 2.9k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three

Summer Break “I really fucked up.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, the sound hoarse from all the crying. You were curled up on your side on the couch in Pierre’s apartment in Milan, your head on his lap as his hand ran up and down your arm in comfort. “He’s never going to forgive me.”

“He’s your brother, he’ll forgive you,” he assured you once again. “I’ve said way worse things to my brothers. Maybe this break is exactly what you need, get away from Max for a few weeks, have some space.”

“And Lando, and Charles.” You groaned as you rolled onto your back and stared up at your closest friend. “You have a bear in the cave.”

“Gross, don’t look up my nose,” he said as he pushed you off his lap.

“I can’t help it, it’s the angle,” you laughed as you sat up before sobering. “Have you spoken to them?”

“Lando was heading back to Monaco to spend the holidays with Luisa, and Charles was on his way to the Alps to meet up with Charlotte.” 

You sighed at the mention of their girlfriends and Pierre gave you a look of pity that you resented. Pulling your phone out, with the determination to move on from the silly crushes that had developed over the years, you opened the Raya app and shifted closer to him. “Can you help me?”

“Sure,” he said, taking the phone and locking it. “I’m taking you on a road trip.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Ah, but I think it’s what you need.”

Round Fourteen - Netherlands You reunited with the team for Max’s home race and a sea of orange filled the stands, all cheering for their Lion. You had tried to talk to him when you arrived at the track but you didn’t know what to say to repair the rift you had made. Every time you opened your mouth, nothing came out.

“That one’s for you,” Lance said as he tapped your elbow.

“Huh? What? Yeah, totally,” you rambled trying to recover from zoning out thinking about the three weeks of silence, not only with Max but Lando and Charles too. You had sat beside the Canadian on the sofa, the furthest point from the others and it hadn’t gone unnoticed. “Sorry, what was the question?”

“You look like you enjoyed your vacation with Pierre. It was quite different to how you usually spend your down time.”

“Because I was sober?” you teased. “My liver needed a break, as did my PR team, and it was really quite fun. Exactly what I needed actually and it was great to reconnect with Pierre since he upgraded to Yuki.”

You could feel three sets of eyes on you from the other end but then the conversation was diverted their way and you sagged back into the couch. That was until you heard the news that the holiday had been dubbed ‘break-up season’. Both Spaniards had become single in the first week, Logan and Lando in the second and Charles in the third. It had been quite the shock to their fans.

If Pierre hadn't removed your social media for the break you would have known all of this but instead you had to find out on stage with dozens of cameras capturing the surprise on your face. 

The second the interview was over you chased after Lando and finally caught up to him at the McLaren motorhome.

“Hey, can we talk?” You were aware that there were still plenty of cameras around, and it looked like the Netflix crew were scheduled to his team too. “Somewhere private.”

He didn’t exactly look happy at the request but his eyes softened as you quietly begged, “please, Lan?”

“In here,” he sighed, taking his cap off and running a hand through his hair as he opened the door to his room. The door clicked shut behind you and you looked around the small space, the air still humid and smelling like his body wash from the shower he took before the media conference.

“How was your break?” you asked as he sat down on a padded bench, leaving the more comfortable chair for you.

“Could have been better.”

There was a pregnant pause where you both waited for each other to speak. It wasn’t like him to be so short and you thought more would follow but he just stared back at you. 

Clearing your throat, you looked down at your hands on your lap. “I, uh, wanted to apologise for what I said to you. You were just being a good friend and I was a complete bitch.”

“You were a bitch,” he stated bluntly before he bit his lip and mouthed a silent, ‘sorry’ and tucked his knee up so he could rest his cheek on it.

You huffed a laugh of agreement. “I’ve heard that once or twice. I’m a work in progress, but I’m trying to change. Can you forgive me?”

His head lifted with a frown, his soft curls falling over his forehead to meet them. “What? No.”

“Oh.” You hadn’t expected everything to go back to how it was but you had thought he would at least accept your apology. Rising from the chair, you started to make your way to the door until you heard the vinyl bench squeak as he followed.

“Wait,” he said as he caught your hand reaching for the handle. “You were right. So there’s nothing to forgive.” He tugged your hand so you turned to face him before he let it slip through his fingers. “I was unhappy, and I probably should have broken up with Luisa a long time ago.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I guess I just didn’t want to be alone again. Which, after you left, I realised is a poor reason to be in a relationship. So I really wasn’t up for offering advice. ” He smiled sheepishly and opened his arms. “Forgive me?”

You stepped into his embrace and buried your head in his neck with a nod. “You were right too.”

“About what?”

“Everything.” You were reluctant to leave the comfort of his arms but there was still one other person to apologise to. “I owe you and Charles for saving my ass. How about dinner at my place on Tuesday?”

“I mean, it was mostly me,” he joked as he puffed his chest up and pushed his shoulders back. “But we can invite him too, I guess.”

“Of course, my hero,” you swooned sarcastically before leaning in and kissed his cheek. “See you next Tuesday. See what I did there?”

“There’s my Spitfire,” he laughed and shook his head. “For a moment I thought you were gone.”

Max’s motorhome was empty when you reached it and so was the garage but his engineer, Calum, was there and said Max had gone to visit family. It hurt more than you expected to hear that you hadn’t been invited, especially since it was Jos’ side of the family that lived in the Netherlands. The side of the family you shared with Max. 

That pain followed you as you wandered around the paddock a little lost, signing autographs and stopping for photos with fans on autopilot. You didn’t know where to go, or how to fill the hours until Max returned. Then when he returned you weren’t even sure he would want to see you after what you said.

“Hey, I’ve called out like three times,” Charles said as he suddenly appeared in front of you and frowned at your startled reaction. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, no, sorry, I’m in a world of my own,” you said as you looked around to see you were outside Ferrari hospitality. “How, uh, how have you been? I meant to call you over the break and thank you for what you and Lando did for me.”

“It’s no problem, but it was mostly me.”

“Funny, he said the exact same thing,” you smirked. “Anyway, as a thank you, you two are coming to my place for dinner on Tuesday. I promise I won’t give you food poisoning, this time.”

“Well, that’s something to look forward to,” he said sarcastically. “But Tuesday works for me. Where were you heading anyway? I thought you would be with Max.”

You couldn’t hide the wince on your face at the mention of your brother and Charles reached out and rubbed your shoulder with a look of concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine. I actually need to go do a thing,” you lied as you started to feel the increasingly familiar burn of tears in your eyes.

“Chérie, wait.” Charles made to follow as you backed away but he stopped when you shook your head.

“Fuck,” you swore under your breath as you turned your back and wiped your eyes. It was race week and your emotions were all over the place, it was a recipe for disaster. 

Race Day

You threw your phone across the room and watched it bounce off the couch before hitting the floor with a crack. You could worry about the broken screen later, with the race only an hour away and Max still ignoring you there were more pressing things to think about.

You worked through your warm up routine under the watchful eye of your physiotherapist before making your way to the reflex machine. The lights danced across the buttons and you slapped each one with precision until it suddenly clicked off. 

“You’re not focused,” Kristian tutted.

“I hit them all,” you argued as you caught the bottle he threw to you and took a drink.

“Reacting out of habit is not the same as responding by reflex. You need to think, then do, not just do.”

You grumbled under your breath about what a load of crap it was but made a show of the next round before he gave up with a sigh. “I’m going to head down to the grid,” you said as you grabbed your helmet and balaclava. “Pierre can help me finish up.”

It was easy to spot Pierre with his PT, his concentration solely on the tennis balls he was focused on catching before they hit the ground. 

“Mind if I butt in?” you asked as you took the tennis balls and replaced Ben. “He still won’t talk to me.” You dropped the balls at the same time and he easily swiped them from the air before tossing it back into your palm.

“You can take my spot for the anthem, I think I saw my name next to his on the seating chart.”

“That’s probably not a good idea,” you admitted as you dropped the balls one after another trying to trick him. “I called him a dick, twice.”

One ball bounced along the asphalt when he laughed, missing the easy catch. “That’s the opposite of apologising.”

“I know, he just pissed me off.” You caught sight of the race suit that matched yours and watched him walk on the far side of the grip with Charles. “I don’t like being ignored.”

Pierre grabbed the wayward tennis ball and returned to hold them up over your hands. “You did start that by ignoring him first.”

“I thought we were friends.” You caught the ball he dropped and tossed it at his face. “You’re meant to take my side.”

He caught it before it could connect with his nose and crossed his arms with an amused smirk on his face. “I am your friend, so I will tell it like it is. Go talk to him.”

 You narrowed your eyes at him as you stepped away and he nodded encouragingly as you made your way across the home straight. 

“Not now,” Max said as soon as you stepped into his field of vision, making Charles look over his shoulder. 

“Then when?” you asked. “After the race? Next week? Next year? Should I put my name up for a transfer? Is that what you want?”

“Woah, what's going on?” Charles asked as watched you grow increasingly more upset with each question.

“Nothing, just an inchident,” Max said coldly. “Oma sends her regards and she’s sorry she didn’t get to see you.”

“You didn’t fucking invite me,” you growled as you stepped closer jabbed a finger into his chest.

Max rolled his eyes and schooled his face to one of boredom. “You told me to leave you alone.”

Your hands balled into fists at your side. “You are such a fucking asshole.”

“Hey, hey, that’s enough,” Charles interrupted, pushing himself between you and your brother before you could get disqualified. “Walk with me.”

Charles stepped closer and his hands grabbed your shoulders, turning you around before one hand pressed against the small of your back, urging you to keep moving. 

“What’s going on?” he asked as he took a seat against the pitwall and pulled you down beside him. “And don’t say it’s nothing. You haven’t been yourself all week.”

“We had an argument and now he hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you.” Charles draped an arm over your shoulder and pulled you closer to kiss your temple. “He’s your older brother, he could never hate you. Trust me, there’s nothing Arthur could say that would make me hate him.”

“Arthur’s too nice to say anything mean, but me? I’m a bitch.”

“You’re not a bitch, you’re just passionate.” He let his head fall back against the wall with a chuckle. “I like that about you.”

“You must be the only one.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he murmured quietly and you followed his line of sight to Lando who was making his way over while everyone else started to move to the front of the grid. “Time to go.”

Charles stood up as Lando offered you his hand, pulling you to your feet.

“Try not to get too excited hearing the Dutch anthem,” you grumbled, earning a laugh from both of them as they fell into step either side of you, “again.”

You were driving recklessly, determined to beat Max, but it had meant receiving a black and white flag warning for exceeding the track limits three times. One more violation and you would get a five second penalty, practically handing the win over on a silver platter.

“You need to manage your tires,” Nicholas warned over the radio. “You are pushing them too hard, the degradation rate is exponential. They won’t last to the end of the race unless you slow down and stay between the white lines.”

“I can’t slow down when I have Max with DRS behind me.”

“That’s not the plan. We want a 1-2 finish, it doesn’t matter who leads across the line.”

“It does to me.”

You passed the next DRS detection line and took the corner at speed before hitting the straight and trying to defend your position. Max was right at your bumper, riding the slipstream as he increased speed in preparation to slingshot out and past you. 

Only something went wrong.

Instead of going around you, Max’s front wing crashed into the back of your car, lifting your rear wheels off the track and sending you scraping the length of the pit wall while he spun out. Debris hit your helmet as Max’s car slammed into the concrete barriers and carbon fibre splintered apart, raining over you and the track. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you growled into the comms as you pulled your steering console out and unbuckled the harness. You jumped over the side of your car and ran towards Max’s, hurling abuse at him the entire way. “Who’s the spoiled brat now? You just couldn’t let me have the win could you? Dick!”

A pained groan was all you heard from the cockpit and the anger evaporated in an instant as dreaded fear replaced it. You leapt onto the top of the car and reached over the halo, pulling the visor up on Max’s helmet to see a dazed look in his icy blue eyes before they fluttered shut. 

“Max, I need you to open your eyes. Look at me, dammit!” you growled as you started to pull his harness open and looked around wildly, wondering when help was coming. “I’m sorry for everything I said. I don’t hate you, okay? I don’t hate you. You’re my big brother and I love you, so you have to stick around and be overprotective and piss me off for a very long time. So open your fucking eyes!”

“Zusje?” he asked after a moment of blinking dumbly. “What happened?”

“You forgave me and said I could borrow your yacht.”

“Bullshit,” he groaned as he pushed his harness off his shoulders and accepted your hand to help him climb out. “I would never let you borrow my yacht.”

A groan wheezed out as his boots hit the ground and you wrapped an arm around his waist to take his weight, holding him steady. “Does that mean you forgive me?”

“Only if I can get a recording of your radio, you actually sounded worried for me,” he said with a laugh before he clutched his ribs. “Ow, fuck.”

“Of course I was worried, asshole. I thought you were hurt.”

“I am hurt,” he pointed out before rapping his knuckles on your helmet. “I love you too, little sis. Even when you say you hate me.”

Click here for Not A Verstappen: Gridlock {1}.

Tagging: @destourtereaux @severerebelearthquake @sunf1ower16 @octaviareina @omgsuperstarg @mvclff1 @alwaysclassyeagle @icantcomeupwithamusicalname-blog @laneyspaulding19 @booknerd2004-blog @mimimarvelingmarvel @chonkybonky

[jiveyuncle]

This chapter absolutely gutted me. Oh boy, if you want heavy angst with a happy ending, this is it. Love, love, loved this fic. I thought it handled really hard, nuanced topics super well and in an honest way. Themes of morality, redemption, and healing from trauma. Read tags and warnings before reading. Stay safe ❤️

Fic: audience of one by @katranga on AO3

Lance gets captured by the Galra and sent to a prison ship. Keith, raised Galra, visits Lance's cell, driven by the unshakable curiosity about the new prisoner who looks like him.

^^^this is just Part 1 of the Ride or Die series by this author - I recommend reading both parts if you want the healing aspect of the journey 💕

[lxndonorris]

cozy - Lance Stroll

Y/N x Lance Stroll Theme: Smutish, light touching you spend the day cuddling with Lance x word count: 1260+ taglist: @game-set-canet open for requests :)

As the soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm ambiance in the room, you and your boyfriend, Lance, find yourselves lost in the blissful cocoon of your shared intimacy. The comforting embrace of the bed seems to cradle you, and you can't help but lean your head against his chest, savoring the soothing rhythm of his heaving chest with every breath he takes.

Wrapped in the tranquil silence, he holds you close, and the world outside your haven fades away. There is an unspoken language in the way your bodies intertwine, creating a sanctuary of intimacy that words could not capture. His arms around you feel like a shield, protecting you both from the uncertainties beyond the bedroom walls.

However, as time passes, a subtle chill begins to permeate the air. Sensing your discomfort, Lance breaks your embrace with a tender smile and reaches for his hoodie.

In one swift moment, he takes it off, revealing another, thinner shirt underneath. "Here." He smiles softly and hands you the hoodie.

The fabric is soft and oversized, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth as you gratefully accept his offering. It carries the comforting scent of him, a familiar blend that instantly makes you feel at home.

"Thank you," Blushing slightly, you enjoy how its fabric glides across your skin.

With the borrowed garment hugging you, a few sizes too big but perfectly cozy, you resume your cuddle. His gentle caresses trace patterns on your back, a rhythmic dance that mirrors the beating of your hearts.

You rest your hand on his chest, relishing the warmth and subtle rise and fall beneath your touch.

In that shared place, where the world is reduced to the proximity of your intertwined bodies, Lance leans down to kiss your forehead.

As you continue to bask in each other's presence, you express your anticipation with a gentle smile: "I can't wait to see you racing again."

You lift your head when his eyes soften and a subtle warmth of gratitude illuminates his gaze.

"I will do my best to get on the podium again," he promises, a commitment that resonates with the passion he holds for racing.

"I know, Lance." You smile, lean in, and kiss him softly. He embraces your lips on his own, and his stubble tickles.

As your hand continues to traverse his chest, you cannot help but smile again.

"I cannot wait to see you in that beautiful green suit again." You giggle as his body reacts to your gentle touch.

A playful spark flickers in his eyes, and he teases you with a raised eyebrow and a mischievous smile.

"Why is that?" Lance shakes his head slowly, his voice carrying a mixture of curiosity and enticement.

Leaning in closer, your lips just inches away from his, you bite your lower lip, holding back another giggle.

"You just look so good, babé." You say, kissing him in between words, making him smile so brightly.

He knew the answer already, but it makes him feel better hearing you say that. His arms wrap around you, pulling you in a little closer.

"You know we've got the fitting soon." Lance growls deeply, tilting his head slightly while still looking right into your eyes. His eyes are shimmering in the dim light, drawing you in closer, and you couldn't pull away even if you tried.

A playful glint dances in his eyes as he shares his plans: "I'll make sure to take plenty of pictures." He lifts his chin slightly and narrows his eyes as his hands run up and down your back.

"Especially in my fireproofs." His words carry a teasing undertone, and a warm smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "I know you'll love that."

The idea of capturing those intimate moments, even in the context of a fitting, adds a new layer to your conversation. You always love seeing him in those tights, flattering his athletic physique. Especially those white ones are your weakness, and he is fully aware of the power he has over you.

Remembering the first time you saw him gives you goosebumps.

It was a few months into your relationship when he invited you to a race weekend. You had seen pictures of him, videos, and interviews, but it was nothing compared to the real thing. When he finally emerged in his racing suit, a wave of admiration washed over you. The sleek fabric clung to his body in all the right places, clinging to the contours of his athletic form.

You couldn't help but marvel at how good he looked—a vision of strength and determination. The suit not only encapsulated the essence of his sport but also added a touch of allure that made your heart race.

The fireproofs beneath the racing suit further emphasized his athletic build, creating a silhouette that exuded confidence and power. As he stood before you, ready for the upcoming race, you felt a surge of pride and admiration for him. With a swagger in his step, he approached you, hugged you, and kissed you. Since that day, he knew how much you loved him in that gear.

"You know me too well." With a sly grin, you intensify your gentle strokes across his chest, feeling his muscles, his pecs, and his abs tense slightly at every move of your fingers.

Carefully, you let your hand linger on his tummy, stroking him for a few moments before you trace his treasure trail further down his body to his crotch.

Lance leans forward, resting his head against yours with a soft smile.

As you stroke him, he starts to purr contently, embracing you in an even tighter hug.

Your hand runs up and down his thighs teasingly, while he places kisses on your forehead, your nose, and right on your lips.

"Lance, your beard is tickling me." You pretend to pull away, a giggle escaping your lips, but he persists, the teasing twinkle in his eyes growing more pronounced.

The two of you get more into the moment, and you feel his excitement growing against the palm of your hand. Once you intensify your strokes, he lets out a soft yet guttural moan, resting his head against the pillow underneath the two of you.

"Mhmm." He growls deeply, and while you keep on stroking him, you find yourself drawn to the details of his features. Your fingers trace the delicate path along his jawline, reveling in the subtle texture of his beard; it feels fluffly and soft, and you're glad he is growing a beard again.

"This looks so good on you." You express your admiration for his beard, as it has grown on you as much as it has grown on him.

"Thank you," Lance smiles, a blend of contentment and appreciation, as your fingers continue their exploration.

Now, you let go of him and run both of your hands across his firm chest—his training is paying off—before they slide underneath his shirt. Lance keeps working out in preparation for the season, as he must be physically and mentally ready for that many races, some under volatile conditions.

You're seeking the warmth of his skin; the touch of his soft skin beneath your fingertips sends a shiver of intimacy through you. As you wrap your arms around him in an intimate hug, Lance reciporates, embracing you fully.

His chest presses against yours, his arms hold you close, and he proceeds to kiss you again and again, so softly and lovingly.

Lance is humming quietly, taking many deep breaths, while you close your eyes, enjoying this moment.

[grandlinedreams]

omg omg omg your fics are so adorable😭😭😭 if you don’t mind could do you an angsty hurt/comfort law x reader story about how the reader gets captured by marines and gets tortured, and the heart pirates have to rescue them and get them back to health ??

have a good day or night!!💗💗💗

Hdhdh thank-you, I try!! But absolutely i can!! I hope that this is to your liking!!

[Heads up!: mentions of canon typical violence, injuries, established relationship, hurt/comfort]

"It's not as bad as it looks."

Law looks up, jaw clenched as he prods gloved fingers against the dark cluster of bruising on your side. You bite back a hiss as he does so, exhaling when he lets up.

"They cracked at least two of your ribs." His tone is flat, and you can tell that he's upset ㅡ with you or the marines, however, you're not entirely sure. "From what I've been able to assess so far, that's also in addition to your arm, which is broken. Two of your fingers needed reset, not to mention the likelyhood of a concussionㅡ"

"Okay," you interrupt, "maybe it is as bad as it looks."

Law's eyes narrow. "That's understatement." You watch as he turns to grab a pair of tweezers, soaking a cottonball into antiseptic before he brings it up to dab at the puffy cut on your cheek. "You could have died."

You bite back another hiss, closing your eyes at the pain that lances from your bruised (and cracked) ribs. "But I didn't."

"You got lucky." Law's tone is icy as he dabs at the split in your lip. You watch as he turns to begin cleaning up the supplies he's used.

"Next timeㅡ"

Law almost slams the bandage case shut and turns to you, expression that of quiet fury, golden eyes blazing. "Next time? The next time you're dumb enough to get caught, they'll kill you. There will be no next time, [Name]."

You meet his gaze. "I'd rather die than betray this crew, Law. You know that."

Law is silent as he finishes up cleaning things and packing them away before he gets to his feet and moves towards the door. He pauses there, shoulders slumping with his slow exhale. "I know," he answers at last, "and that's exactly what I'm afraid of."

ㅡ

"I never did get to thank you two for rescuing me," you say as you study the cards before you, peering up at Penguin and Shachi.

Penguin smiles. "It was no problem. Kind of cool to get to sneak into a marine base. Like a spy."

"We couldn't have done it without captain," Shachi adds before he pauses. "Speaking of, did captain give you the okay to be wandering around again?"

Your lips part.

"No," comes the clipped response from behind you, making you freeze before you tip your head back to find Law staring at you. "I didn't."

"Iㅡ"

"Room." Tattooed fingers grip your shoulder. "Shambles."

Your stomach spins as scenery abruptly shifts, and you huff as Law appears a moment after you. "Using your devil fruit on me? Really?"

"Yes," Law answers, frustration clear in both his tone and expression. "Because you apparently can't follow orders. I told you bedrest and minimal movement."

"They're going to suspect something if they figure out you used it to drop me in your room."

He shrugs, arms folded across his chest. "Let them."

You groan. "Law, I'm going to insane. Let me do something."

"I'll tell you what you can do," Law starts, watches your expression light up. "You can do as I tell you and quit being a brat."

You stare, expression going deadpan. "There's no fun in that."

Law scowls before he pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "...just do this for me," he says, tone softer. "Please."

You stare and then huff as you move towards is bed, yanking the covers back to slip beneath them. Mindful not to jostle your arm or your bruised side, you turn to look at Law. "Happy?"

"Thrilled," comes the amused answer when you sulk, and he approaches to crouch beside the bed. "Quit pouting, you're an adult."

"But this is boring."

"Try to sleep. Rest is going to help you more than anything." Placing his hand over your eyes, Law can feel the brush of your eyelashes.

"Trying to smother me isn't going to help either."

Law's eyes flick skyward for a moment as he sighs. "I'm hardly smothering you. Although it's an idea, given that you'd be unconscious."

You reach up, pulling his hand down enough you can stare. "You wouldn't dare." He raises an eyebrow, and your eyes narrow. "Law."

"Then go to sleep." He counters crisply. "Or what can I offer you that will get you to stay put so I can work and not have to hunt you down?"

You hum, expression thoughtful before your eyes lock with his. "Kiss me." When he gives you a flat look, you grin. "You heard me, if you give me a kiss I'llㅡ"

Law's lips are against yours, familiar pressure that makes your eyes slide shut as you press back, good hand coming up to rest against the back of his cap. And then he's pulling away, ignoring your whine of protest. "Go to sleep."

"But I wantㅡ"

"Sleep," Law emphasizes. "We made a deal."

He pulls away completely, and you scowl before turning away with a huff. "Fine. Since you won't give me another kiss."

Scoffing, Law reaches to tug at the brim of his hat, hoping you don't notice the faint flush to his cheeks. "And I told you to stop being a brat."

Crossing the room, Law seats himself at his desk and flips open one of the various books he'd been taking notes from earlier. He doesn't know how long he reads for but when he looks up again, you're finally asleep.