#lance is CONFUSED AND SAD

[lachiennearoo]

I genuinely do not get the concept of hate sex.

Like, at all

I see this shit a lot in the SpideyPool fandom, saw it too a bit with Klance as well, ZoSan, KageHina, and obviously the concept is also discussed a lot with Poolverine (even if I am kinda grossed out by that ship I keep seeing it against my will so I have to acknowledge it I suppose)

But like...

Idk maybe it's just me but, if I am angry at someone, I don't give a shit how hot or sexy they are, last thing I wanna do is fuck em. I probably just wanna yell at them, punch them (if I'm angry enough and they are genuinely threatening me), maybe cry a bit, hide in my room all alone until I calm down or something idk

Like??? Having sex??? While you're angry at them??? Literally who the fuck is it benefitting???? How do you even GET horny if you're angry??? Like..... WHAT????

[daydreamerdrew]

The Hulk (1978) #10

[bisexualmultifandommess]

Imagine that scene in Paper Girls where KJ talks about knowing if and when you like girls with her future self’s girlfriend but disguising it to be about movies but with Lance asking Shiro about his sexuality but trying to disguise it with something but Shiro just knows and is really soft when explaining it.

[disneyprincemuke]

the orange peel theory * fem!driver

how many men in her life would stop to peel an orange for her if she asks randomly?

pairings: f1 grid x fem!driver

warnings: -

notes: juSt a random idea i got when i dreadfully peeled oranges for myself ugh i hate being single sometimes

guys this is the last vr update today i swear i’ve got too much times on my hands actually

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

-> max verstappen, #1

would be in the middle of an interview after quali when she comes up to him with a mandarin orange in hand

max stops mid sentence to look down at her in confusion but will take the orange into his hands as she asks him to peel it for her politely

he would cover the mic and whisper “can this wait? i’m in the middle of something” and she shows him her hands, perfectly manicured white nails with a frown and says “i’ll stain my nails”

and he just does it, peeling the orange as he carries on with the interview after she walks away without him knowing

when he finishes, he turns to give it to her but she’s no longer there and ends up eating the orange during his interview lol

-> logan sargeant, #2

he’d be sitting in his garage minding his own business when she comes and sits next to him with a bag of mandarin oranges in hand

he doesn’t even need to be told

he immediately reaches out and starts peeling the oranges for her, even tearing away the white strands because he knows she hates those

totally nothing to do with the fact that he’s had a crush on her forever

everything to do with the fact that they grew up together and he’s too lazy to fight

-> daniel ricciardo, #3

he’s literally just walked into the paddocks for race day

he feels all cool with all the cameras

suddenly she runs over to him with an orange in her hands and a hopeful smile

“peel this for me please?”

he does it without question

he walks the paddocks with her while peeling her orange and even sparks up conversation with her

-> lando norris, #4

literally walks away when he sees her approaching him with an orange

she’s been doing it all weekend and he refuses to be a victim

also because he’s not that fond of peeling oranges

or oranges, for that matter

she tries chasing after him but when she finally catches up, he simply ignores the request to peel the orange for her

-> pierre gasly, #10

he’ll be literally walking over to the grid for the driver’s parade

looking pretty cool in his cool fits

an orange is presented to him without question

he grins at her and thanks her for the orange

walks away and eats the orange himself

-> sergio perez, #11

would also be in the middle of an interview when she comes up with an orange

would peel it because he’s a mega dad and he’s really taken a liking to her

excuses himself from the interview to do it for her real quick

would take one piece of the orange for himself

claims it’s the taxes for making him do it instead of doing it herself

-> fernando alonso, #14

takes the orange without her saying anything

he’s always seen with seb on race weekends and is very used to her antics

literally gives her the orange peel and one piece of orange

eats the orange without her saying anything

she’s in damn near tears because she really expected fernando to peel it for her without question

-> charles lerclerc, #16

is sad that she didn’t bring him an orange too

still peels it for her though

even though he was in the middle of some paddock game with carlos

asks for a piece and because she loves him and her crush is still very much present, she simply gives him the whole orange

-> lance stroll, #18

he’d have been coming out of his racing home minding his own business

they don’t interact often because she scares him

is almost scared to say no to the orange peeling and actually says no

mutters “i always knew you hated me” as she walks away

which then makes him chase her to peel the orange for her and apologise profusely

because lance and her literally never talk and it took up all her courage to approach him with this orange, she gives him half of the orange

-> kevin magnussen, #20

asks her if she's got an extra orange for his baby girl

she literally came prepared and gives one to cute baby laura

so now kevin has to peel two oranges for two babies

outrageous, if u ask him

-> nyck de vries, #21

has unfortunately departed by the time she decided to be a menace about the orange peel theory

she thinks about him often though

they're texting buddies actually

-> yuki tsunoda, #22

literally came prepared

he's got a packet of candy he bought when he flew back to japan for a visit

she gives him the whole orange

she literally peels the orange for him in exchange for the candy

-> alex albon, #23

was literally walking to the grid for the opening ceremony of the race weekend

says no immediately

but he does change his mind and asks if he can have half if he peels it for her

peels it and takes more than half of the share

-> zhou guanyu, #24

is delighted to even see her because they don't come across one another often

is kinda touched that she asked him to peel an orange but then is disappointed to find out that he's not the first victim and that this is all a tiktok trend for her

peels it anyway

asks her to bring an extra orange if there's a next time as payment

-> niko hulkenberg, #27

she literally cannot find him

doesn't get to participate in the trend

she only saw him once that weekend and it was at the opening ceremony and she only had 1 orange for alex to peel

and on the grid in his race car

-> esteban ocon, #31

absolutely ADORES her

peels it without question

peeks around her shoulder to ask if she's brought another one for him

she says yes and that he's the only one who gets one for himself because she loves him back

-> lewis hamilton, #44

this psycho literally approaches lewis when he's on an interview panel

but that's because he asked her to do it at that time so he has a excuse to escape the panel

he's just so tired of the panel interviews

giggling with her like demons as he peels the orange

-> carlos sainz, #55

peels it for her without question

the only one to ask her why she's got so many oranges to eat and hand out

also the only one to ask her if oranges have been the only thing she's eaten all weekend

inhumanly impossible to eat this many oranges in one weekend perhaps

-> george russell, #63

is literally tearing up because she came to him to ask to peel the orange

he heard from alex what she's been doing

he's been waiting all weekend for her and was sad that it seemed like she had no intentions on letting him participate in her tiktok

she feels so bad for him that she joins him in peeling an orange as well

-> valtteri bottas, #77

is confused because he's just minding his own business using his phone during the driver's briefing

peels the orange for her anyway

asks if oranges are her favourite fruit

suggests eating something less acidic to avoid a tummyache

-> oscar piastri, #81

if anyone's tired of her being a menace with all these oranges, it's going to be him

but because he knows she'll pick a fight if he says no

he will peel the orange reluctantly

takes a picture with the orange because it's the same shade as the mclaren shirt he is wearing

— bonus

-> liam lawson, #30

asks her to fuck off

only ask him to peel an orange when she's lost all the ability to peel one for herself

asks her if he can have one from her orange stash

she says no in tears because he cussed at her

shrugs and walks away

-> sebastian vettel, #5

this clinically insane woman has got this 4 time world champion peeling oranges on the pit wall during qualifying

has him throw her a peeled orange in between laps during qualifying

eats it in the car for a racing 'buff' before she drives out for a lap

she's got too many oranges so he helps her eat some of them

eating oranges = beating mclaren = beating oscar because they're all the same colour and have a correlation obviously

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[fastandcarlos]

Silent Treatment : ̗̀➛ Lance Stroll

summary: off the back of a pretty horrible argument, lance finds himself broken when you decide to give him the silent treatment

A sigh came from you as you walked through the front door, dropping your bag and slipping off your shoes. Lance’s eyes looked in your direction as soon as he heard you enter, smiling weakly across at you only to see you walk straight through the house and upstairs. 

“Love!” Lance called out, desperately hoping that you would turn back around and come down, but you didn’t. Your actions brought a groan from beside Lance too as your daughter’s confused eyes followed you. 

Her heart sunk as she watched you walk away, turning to Lance to try and make sense of what was going on. Lance equally felt guilt as he met her eyes, knowing that she was innocent in the argument that you’d had. 

“What’s wrong with mummy?” She asked him, climbing into Lance’s lap so that she was able to face him. 

Lance’s eyes closed for a moment as he let go of a deep breath. “Mummy got upset at daddy because he wasn’t very nice this morning,” he told her, “I thought maybe mummy would be alright when she got home, but I think she might still be annoyed.” 

Your daughter’s head nodded, “so you need to stop making mummy annoyed?” 

Lance couldn’t help but smile at how well she read the situation. “Yeah, I think daddy might have some making up to do with mummy, what do you think?” 

As much as he wanted to pretend like things were fine, Lance knew that you had every right to still be annoyed at him. He knew he’d dropped himself in it earlier in the morning with his words, and now as your daughter scolded him too, there was no avoiding what had happened any longer. 

“I want mummy to come and sit with us,” your daughter frowned, poking Lance against his chest in an attempt to try and get him moving. 

“Me too,” Lance whispered in reply. 

There was nothing worse than arguing with you, Lance hated when the two of you weren’t on speaking terms. He felt guilty at the best of times, but especially now that a small pair of sad eyes looked across at him too. 

“You stay there and I’ll go and see mummy,” Lance told her, lifting her off of his lap and onto the floor. “I’m sure mummy will come back down once daddy tells her that he’s sorry.” 

Your daughter nodded as she positioned herself in front of the television, willing to do whatever it was that she needed to do in order to see her parents back together again. 

“You can’t come back without her,” your daughter warned as Lance stood up and started heading to the stairs. “You have to just keep saying sorry to her.” 

“I promise that I will let her know how sorry I am sweetheart.” 

Your daughter flashed Lance a smile, as if she was sending him some encouragement. “See you in a bit daddy!” She called out, waving him off. 

“Behave yourself,” he jokingly told her as he disappeared. 

Lance’s footsteps were quiet as he reached the top of the stairs, noticing that your bedroom door was slightly ajar. You were laid out on your bed, scrolling through your phone, aware of Lance’s presence in the doorway, deciding to try your best to just ignore him.  

As he walked into the room, you remained still. Lance sat himself down on the edge of the bed, his eyes watching, hoping, that you would acknowledge him and mutually agree to stop the tension between you both. 

“I’m sorry,” Lance eventually spoke, “I didn’t mean to upset you with what I said earlier, they were stupid things for me to say anyway.” 

You turned your phone off, placing it down beside you as your eyes looked at Lance. You were still quiet as you sat expectantly, knowing that Lance still had more that he wanted to say. 

Lance slowly pushed himself further onto the bed for laying down and stretching out. He reached across and tried to rest his hand over yours, relieved when you stayed still and didn’t push him away. 

He had his moments when he could be stubborn, but Lance usually knew when the game was up and it was time to swallow his pride. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew things that morning were definitely his fault, he’d let his mouth run away from him without thinking, a habit that Lance had far too often for your liking when it came to your arguments. 

“I regret it, everything,” Lance whispered across to you. “To even suggest that you’re not doing enough for our family is ridiculous of me, you do more than I could ever wish for, apparently I’m just rubbish at appreciating all of it and keep taking it all for granted.” 

“I’m tired of you treating me like I’m some sort of slave around here Lance, we’re supposed to be a team.” 

His head nodded, understanding exactly where you were coming from. You’d decided to confront Lance about the share of jobs around the house, hoping he would get it. Instead, he went on the defensive, and ended up digging himself a much bigger hole then he could have ever imagined. 

“I know that I’m an idiot, most of the time, but I do see all the things you do, and even if I don’t always say it, I’m thankful for it. Every last thing that you do. I promise that I’ll do more, whatever you need me to do, we’re supposed to be a team working together.” 

“You’re not an idiot most of the time,” you reassured Lance, “only just some of the time instead.” 

His smile turned up as he heard the first bit of cheeriness in your voice. “Whatever needs to be done for the rest of the week I’m going to do, you can just put your feet up and relax. That’s the least I can do for being such an awful husband this morning.” 

Your hand turned, slipping your hand so that it was holding onto Lance’s properly. He shuffled closer towards where you laid, resting his head just above your shoulder and pressing a kiss against it. 

“I wouldn’t say something like that, there’s some pretty gross jobs that need to be done around the house that you don’t want to sign yourself up to.” 

“I’ll do them,” Lance shrugged, his voice full of confidence. “There’s a little girl downstairs who wants her mummy, so you go and entertain her, and I’ll do them all, no matter what,” he smiled, hearing little footsteps creeping up the staircase. 

You both looked as your daughter appeared in the doorway, a smile on her face as she noticed how close the two of you were to one another. She walked around to your side of the bed, holding both of her hands around your free one, bouncing on her toes. 

“Are you coming downstairs mummy?” She excitedly asked you, confident of the answer. 

Your head nodded as you and Lance both sat up. “Daddy’s got some jobs to do, so I’m going to come and play, if that’s alright with you?” 

“Yeah!” She yelled out, standing in between you both so you both held onto one of her hands. “I’m glad you are friends again.” 

“I’m glad we’re friends again too.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[cheriladycl01]

Crash into my life - Lance Stroll x Civil Servent! Reader

Plot: You work in a fancy government job, pretty boring 9-5 but Lance Stroll and his insurance claim makes your job that little bit better

Your job wasn’t exactly fun, wasn’t exactly boring. It was one of those jobs that you’d got it at a young age and worked your way up through the ranks as you’d got better and better and because it was safe and something you were good at you stuck with it.

To keep it short and sweet you were a civil servant. Not like 007 kind of crazy stuff but you did work for MI6 in their fraud, tax and insurance department.

You basically took over insurance claims that were over a certain threshold and had to go through the government for … whatever reason whether they are a foreign National claiming in the UK or something.

Usually it was boring matters such as Chelsea Football Club claiming compensation for things as simple as water damages etc. You didn’t even really get to see anyone, you had the data and you analysed it against the scenario and hey presto you made your pay out.

Your favourite time of the year was winter. More claims came through and life was more unpredictable thanks to the whether. Delayed train into London St Pancreas? No tubes working so you have to make the 20 minute walk to your office building from the station. Slipping on ice, it was the only excitement you got in life which was honestly kind of sad.

For you it started at as a normal Monday. You woke up at 7am, brushed your teeth, got into a nice corporate appropriate outfit, got on the train, got a coffee from Pret before heading into your building.

That was your routine, and you didn’t often differ from it unless you had holiday booked. But working a 9-5 Monday - Friday often meant that you

But it felt like there was a different buzz today around the building like there was something going on.

When you all went into the morning briefing for the cases you’d get today, everyone was way too excited for 9am and the start of the day. You sat down next to your office buddy Shiv and looked around confused.

“What in earth is going on with everyone?” You ask looking over at Shiv who’s typing away on her laptop taking in information.

“Apparently there’s some really interesting cases to work on up for grabs today” she explains and you nod knowing once every blue moon some exciting things would crop up and have the whole office acting like kids on Christmas.

You’re all still waiting for the department boss to come in, joining in conversations about what could possibly be happening today.

“Ladies and Gents please take a seat for the meeting to commence. Thank you. Thank you” he offers smiling and everyone gets comfy.

“So we’ve got some exciting stuff today. I’ve formed a team to deal with the Train Networks Claim, that’ll be Shiv, Brayden and Ravi” he says and they all nod writing in their pads what tasks they’d have to do today.

He went through all of them apart from you, before dismissing the meeting. You were slightly confused and therefore packed up yours things a little slower than everyone else to see if you could stay behind and ask why you hadn’t been given an assignment.

“Y/N could you stay behind so I can talk to you for a moment” he asks and you nod, going to the end of the long conference table where he was stood.

“I like you, you’re young and learn quickly and I want you to progress more than you already have so I’m giving you a really important case. You’ll actually get to meet the said person affected, he’s … of high value so be considerate of your wording when talking to him. Alright thank you, here’s the case! Have a report to me by Friday” he offers and you nod happily. You take a seat opening up the material seeing the name of the claimer immediately.

Lance Stroll

You read through the facts, apparently he crashed his Aston Martin driving down the M1 to get to Silverstone into some sort of government van.

After analysing some of the data yourself, a knock comes on your office door from one of the younger interns.

“Erm, Y/N there’s two men in suits here to see you?” She asks rather than tells you, it wasn’t common for people to come in and out of the building due to the confidentiality of the work conducted here.

“Send them in please, but before you do ask them if they want anything. Tea, Coffee, Water” you smile and go back to reading another report from a police officer who was on the scene of the accident.

You watch as two men walk into your office space. One looking younger maybe the same age as you and one looking significantly older which you assumed was the dad.

“Good morning” you smile lightly before going back to some data on your computer. They took a seat, patiently waiting for you to address them.

Lawrence, who you’d just read about in the report who was indeed the father, cleared his throat as if to get your attention.

“Give me one minute Mr Stroll and I’ll be right with you” you smile, still nose in your computer.

“We’ve come all this way to the city centre to see you it would be appreciated if you didn’t waste our time” he huffs and even just from this reaction a bubbling of excitement started in you, just at the promise of actually seeing a client and talking to them in the flesh.

“I understand that, but I won’t be able to tell you much unless I see all the data” you say looking up at them through your glasses. This time you notice Lance and how he’s just sort of staring at you.

“Can I help you Mr Stroll?” You ask looking over him.

“No, I’m all good. Take your time” he smiles and you nod. In 5 minutes you believe you’ve combed through enough data to talk to them.

“This is awfully interesting I almost never get to see the people behind the claim” you smile happily and they both nod.

“Okay so so far from what I can see is there was a crash in your vintage Aston Martin that was for an event at Silverstone, the race track and that you got into a collision with a government van trailing a foreign national?” You ask.

“In short terms, yes … but” Lawrence tries to declare.

“And you weren’t present Mr Stroll” you say looking in the direction of the older man.

“No I wasn’t” he huffs out.

“Okay, then I will ask you to just step out my office while I get an account of the events from your son, if that’s alright with you. Just down the corridor there’s a waiting room there, help yourself to the food and drink in there” you smile hoping to butter him up a little to get him out.

“Alright” he says before taking his leave.

“Okay Mr Stroll lets…” you start but he interrupts you.

“Lance, please just call me Lance” he offers and you nod.

“Well Lance, it’s not … looking great” you start of slowly and he looks at you shocked.

“What do you mean? Your guys went into me?” He says raising his voice slightly and you give him a stern look that has him sinking into his seat.

“Don’t come into my office and raise your voice when I’m doing my best to help you!” You exclaim placing a pad in front of him.

“Sorry it’s just that my dad isn’t happy already that i totalled a car that was needed for race day” he sighs rubbing his temples.

“Ahhh so you’re an F1 driver. Or is it NASCAR because of the accent?” You ask and he looks shocked as if you were supposed to know who he was.

“Er F1” he offers and you nod.

“You any good?” You ask writing done some more notes as you watch the camera on the government vehicle as Lance’s car didn’t have one.

“Excuse me?” He chokes out and you couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“Well I mean im currently looking at your claims for a super car that you totalled and so I can’t help but ask if your any good” you tease and once he heard the tone he gets it and just rolls his eyes.

“Oh haha laugh it up” he says and you do.

“Im sorry but this is quite possibly the most fun I’ve ever had in this job. It’s rather boring most days so I’m just making the most of it” you smile and he smiles back.

“Okay I can see that they did in fact turn into you. And of course I’m here for the people. The issue is where your Canadian. I can pay out what the car was worth when you originally brought it, but 50,000 for the fact that it was an accident on our part” you say and he thinks for a moment.

“No” is all he says and you look over at him in shock.

“Sorry? What do you mean no, no is my final decision” you say crossing your arms.

“I would like to add something else to the 50,000 on top of the car value” he smiles and you nod, wondering what it could possibly be and admiring the boldness of his statement.

“Id like to take you out to dinner” he smirks and your head shoots up from your laptop.

“I- i cant do that… it’s not professional. I could get told off. I could loose my job.” you admit knowing that if people were to find out about your payout and think it was bad then they’d be asking questions to you.

“Oh come on it’s just dinner to say thank you for being so … helpful” he smiles leaning forward in his seat and you shake your head.

“Fine, dinner it is” you smile.

That was the start of something way bigger than just dinner.

y/user

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y/user: Work has been rather interesting lately 👀🏎️

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lance_stroll: thank you for having another look for me 👍🏼

-> y/user: 🫣you’re welcome Mr Stroll

-> lance_stroll: you’re making me feel old ☹️

user: is that whose car I think it is bestie?

-> y/user: it sure is 🏎️

user: need to catch up soon babe, Pret tomorrow morning?

-> y/user: sure thing!

user: Civil Service < Serving Cu*t 🥰

Instagram Story Caption:

Back in the Office wiv Shiv 🌸

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[ace-race-ace]

Random Strollonso idea that I probably won’t have time to write but…

Imagine: Fernando starts calling Lance Princesa everyday. All with a smile on his face. Lance gets mad/sad because he think Fernando is making fun of him. He pouts every time as Fernando continues to tease him.

Eventually Lance has enough and confronts Fernando - “I know you think I’m a spoiled brat and don’t deserve all of it, but you don’t have to keep calling me a princess! It’s really unnecessary.”

Fernando is confused as hell. It takes a second for his brain to catch up before he’s cracking a smile again. Lance rolls his eyes but Fernando reaches out to grab his hands.

“Lance you misunderstand. I am not calling you a princess. I’m calling you MY princess. Because I care about you and want to take care of you! My sweet princesa.”

Lance’s eyes widen at the realization 🤭 then they smooch.

A lot more could be added but that’s the main idea. If anyone wants to use it as inspiration go for it! Bc I have too many wips already…

[logansargeantsbabymom]

imgonnagetyouback

(BRIEF) Lance Stroll x Singer!Fem!Reader, Carlos Sainz x Fem!Reader, Grid x Singer!Fem!Reader

warning: douchebag lance, cursing, briefly mentioning the Stroll/Ricciardo accident

summary: Y/N is a world famous singer who's madly in love with her Formula 1 boyfriend Lance Stroll but he doesn't reciprocate her feelings. So what happens they break up and she drops an album about their relationship and the grid blasts her songs especially when Lance is around?

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Watching the screen with my hands covering my mouth, I couldn't believe what just happened. My boyfriend (and Formula 1 driver) Lance Stroll just crashed into Daniel Ricciardo and it looked like Lance wasn't even paying attention.

After Daniel had to retire the car, I felt bad so I made my way to him to apologize on behalf of Lance given that he was still in the race.

"Danny!" I shout as I jog towards him

Hearing his name, Daniel turned around in complete shock seeing me as no one knew I was there beside Lance, Fernando and the rest of the Aston Martin team.

"Hey Ms. Global Pop-star! What're you doing here?" Daniel asks as he pulls me into a hug, the frown once evident on his face now formed into a huge grin.

"I'm here to see Verstappen win, like always" I chuckle as I watch Daniel playfully roll his eyes "I'm taking a quick break from tour, I missed my boyfriend and my best friends" I playfully punched his arm

"I'm really glad to see you. I thought you forgot about us since you just keep adding tour dates. Thought we'd never see you again." Sadness appears in his voice again as he voices his thoughts

"No, never Danny! I can't go too long without seeing my favorite Aussie, please don't tell Oscar." I see in the background Danny's team needing to have a talk with him "Oh, before I let you go back to your team, I wanted to apologize for the accident on behalf on Lance. He's totally in the wrong" a sincere smile plastered on my face as I apologize.

The frown that was one gone from his face reappeared at the mention of the crash.

"Yeah, yeah no it wasn't your fault. Lance should be the one to apologize, but in this sport accidents are bound to happen. But uh listen, I've gotta run my team need me!" Daniel says as he starts jogging away, prompting me to make my way right back to the Aston Martin garage.

-

After the race ended and the drivers were doing interviews, word got out that Lance was blaming Daniel for the crash and oh boy was Daniel not happy, that was evident in the way he walked over to me.

"Hey y/n/n, I don't ask for much but could you please talk to Lance and make him own up to his own mistakes? Blaming me for an accident he could've avoided." Daniel asked, trying to keep his temper at bay no to no avail.

"Yeah, I was just on my way to him. I'm sorry again, he's ridiculous." I pat his shoulder before jogging over to my boyfriend, whom just finished 1 interview and was on his way to the next reporter.

"Hey babe, I heard what you said about the crash. Why are you saying that its Daniels fault?" I ask running my hand through damp hair before taking the hat out of his hands, placing it on his head.

"Because it is?" Lance replied as if it was common knowledge

"But it's not..? We all watched the replays, you weren't paying attention before making that turn. You rammed right into him." I clarify, wiping some sweat from his face with a face towel I pulled out of my little Kate Spade bag Lance bought me 2 months into our relationship.

Me wiping his sweat away didn't last however because Lance swatted my hand away in disgust.

"Don't touch me. Why are you on his side?" My eyebrows knit in confusion.

"Sides? There are no 'sides' when it's evident that YOU crashed into Daniel. Lance why are you being this way?"

If people weren't paying attention from our interaction then, they certainly were now given that both of our voices went up a few octaves.

"I could be asking you the same question! Y'know what? I don't have time to deal with 'Pick Me' bitches as a girlfriend. Life was so much better when I just fantasized about you. We're fucking done Y/N. DONE, I'm breaking up with you!" as that last sentence came spilling out of his mouth, you can audibly hear the gasps from the news reporters, fans and the rest of the grid.

Words escaped me as I just stared at Lance with tears forming in my eyes. I wanted to scream, cry, hit him, throw things but I couldn't physically bring myself to do any of them. I blinked my tears away as I faintly see Oscar and Lily make their way to us, Oscar confronting Lance as well as the rest of the grid once word got out to the ones who weren't within earshot, and Lily brought me to the McLaren garage where the other WAGS were. All of them tried their best to comfort me saying things like "Lance was so out of pocket with that", "You deserve so much better than him" and "You're way out of his league, he should've been grateful that you have him a chance." but that didn't stop the tears from falling and a sob from escaping my lips as I shook from heartache.

-

It had been 3 months since Lance broke up with me and I hadn't had time to grieve the heartache because I had to fly out to Brazil for another tour stop. In the 3 months following the breakup, between traveling and performing, I couldn't stop writing. I was writing song after song after song, and now I was determined to ruin Lance's Reputation .

I thought about randomly dropping a single but my manager and record label advised against it so I haven't. The past 2 and a half hours, I've ben brain storming different ways to release a single but I had to make it in the most Y/N L/N way.

Heavy footsteps and my make-shift studio door opening is what broke me out of my trance, looking up I'm met with the eyes of my manager, Jamie. Jamie randomly barging into my studio Isn't necessarily unusual but the little white envelope in her hand was.

"You, ms Y/N L/N has just been invited to the Canadian Grand Prix, and surprise surprise, Aston Martin wants you to stay in their garage." Jamie says as she waved the white envelope in the air.

A scoff leaves my lips as I roll my eyes "Is it Aston Martin or Lance that wants me in the garage?" I say as I take the envelope from her hands to open it. Shock written all over my face as I stared at the envelope before me as I search Jamies face for answers

I watched a smirk forms on her face "Oh, sorry. That's the Ferrari invite courtesy of Carlos Sainz , I didn't think you'd want the Aston Martin invite. Which in fact was from Lance and that's not even the first invite he's sent." she states matter of factly.

More disgust coats my face "How many has Lance sent?"

"A total of 6 and I have a feeling he's not gonna stop until you're at a Grand Prix."

I should've known that Lance has been sending me invites, that explains why he's always texting me asking where I'm at. Damnit Lance, just look on any social media platform, I'm on tour!

I contemplated throwing away the Aston Martin invite until a thought popped in my head. I looked at Jamie with a smirk forming on my face and by the look on hers, she knew I was up to no good.

"Just by your face I don't like where this is gonna go" Jamie said

"I'm accepting the Ferrari invite," I start as I got up from my place on the couch to leave the studio and into my room, Jamie following suit "I'm gonna start packing, given that the Grand Prix is this weekend. I need you to book me a place to stay and get the jet ready for take off tonight. I'm gonna call Carlos."

-

My phone call with Carlos was brief, I just called to tell him that I was accepting the invite and that I was leaving in a few hours because I wanted to spend the whole race weekend with him. No matter what it was, Free Practice, Quali, Interviews, Race day or dinner. It was all gonna be me and him together.

I was currently in the jet as it was landing at the airport, it hadn't been too long of a flight seeing as I was at my one of my homes in Philadelphia. The jet door opened and the very few people I brought had started making their way out, I was the last passenger out of the jet and I locked eyes with someone I didn't expect to see.

"Hola Mamacita, How was your flight?" Carlos said as he made his way to the bottom of the jet steps before embracing me in a tight hug

"Carlitos! What are you doing here?" I was surprised Carlos was here, we both had made plans to meet at the hotel and then stroll (pun intended) around the surrounding cities before going to the track and letting Carlos do whatever he had to while I waited for him in the Ferrari Garage.

"I thought I'd just pick you up since we're gonna be together this whole weekend." Carlos said as he was putting my suitcases in trunk of his Ferrari as I patiently waited for him to move so I could put my backpack in the trunk as well. After I placed my bag snug in the trunk, I closed it before making my way to the passenger seat, surprised to see already open with Carlos standing there with a smile on his face as he gestured me in.

"Watch out Carlitos, keep doing nice things like this, I might fall in love with you" I said with a smirk on my face as I looked in his eye before stepping in the low sitting Ferrari before muttering a thank you before he closed the door.

I watched as Carlos walked around the car to the drivers seat and I stared at his ass as he sat down, I tried to look away before he caught me but I was unsuccessful.

A few tsks left Carlos' mouth before he confronted me "Princesa, let me take you on a proper date before you start drooling over my ass." something about the nickname made a small blush creep up on my cheeks and I attempted to bury my face in my hands.

I felt a pair of hands on my wrists, pulling them down to unveil my face before I felt a hand on my chin forcing me to look at Carlos in his face. Making eye contact set off more blood rushing to my face as a small shy smile crept onto my face. My eyes flickered to Carlos' lips before going right back up to his eyes.

We stayed like this for what felt like hours, just looking in each others eyes in a comfortable silence. The space between us getting smaller, I couldn't tell who was the one leaning in but none of us made a conscious effort to pull away. The closer we got, the more I felt his breath on my lips. My eyes flickered to his lips once more, I was determined to close this gap but before I could a blaring sound ricocheted off the walls of the Ferrari.

The sound jolted us apart, and a small awkward chuckle left our lips before Carlos answered the call.

"Aye, cabrón, Que? We're on our way! Stuck in traffic, what do you want me to do about it? Aye Cállate cabrón, adios!" with that Carlos hung up and we shared an awkward glance before he drove off.

-

20 minutes later we arrived outside a fancy hotel and Carlos got out and tossed his keys to the valet girl waiting before he jogged to my side and opened my door.

I stepped out and thanked him again before attempting to grab the bags from the trunk before Carlos pulled me away.

"No, that's my job" he told me in a stern voice

"And what's mine?" I ask as a smile forms on my face and I crossed my arms

"To stand there and look pretty. And by the looks of it you're already doing it." he says as he winks in my direction.

As son as the bags were out of the trunk they Valet lady, who's name tag read Susie, took the car away and the people at the front took my luggage and promised to send it up to the room so we didn't have to take it.

Carlos had a hand on the small of my back as he led me to the elevator and pressed the 'up' arrow and I checked my instagram while we waited for the elevator. My mouth fell agape when I saw what was trending

I felt Carlos' stare from over my shoulder and just as I was about to turn around and start profusely apologizing, his phone went off and I looked over at him while he checked his phone.

"I think Lando believes the rumors now." Carlos said with a chuckle as he flips his phone allowing me to read the messages. A chuckle of my own left my lips but the chuckles were short lived seeing as the elevator dinged and opened and an old elderly couple waddled out.

"Oh dear, look at that. Young love, I remember when we were like that" the old lady said as she laid eyes on me and Carlos, I almost corrected the lady but given the way that me and Carlos were standing, it didn't stand a chance.

"Yeah, she's mi vida" Carlos said as he pulled my closer to him before planting a kiss on my temple.

The nice old couple smiled at both of us before walking away. Carlos led me into the elevator, his hand still resting on my back as he turns to face me

"Why didn't you correct her?" I whispered to him as we locked eyes. The gap between us slowly disappearing. I watched as Carlos's eyes flickered down to my lips and stared at them. Getting a little self conscious, I bit my lower lip but quickly felt Carlos' thumb pull my lip from teeth. The hand that once rested on my lips moved to the back of my neck, mine quickly followed suit.

“Have I ever told you that you look beautiful?” his voices soft whisper, like if he spoke any louder that it’d ruin the moment. In reality, nothing could ruin this moment.

“Shut up and kiss me” I said, the eye contact between us burning the atmosphere around us.

“Gladly” the gap between us thinning. We were so close I could see every little speck on his face, the way his eyelashes fluttered with every flick of his eyes, I could see every different shade of brown in his beautiful eyes.

Our eyes closed as our lips barely brushed together, I was getting impatient with him so the hands I had around his neck I was gonna use to pull him closer and finally close the gap for once. The elevator abruptly stopping is what pulled us apart before we could kiss, quickly thinking of a way to pull apart with looking suspicious, I pulled Carlos into a hug, after a second or two I turned around to see the two girls that walked in. Both quickly recognizing us and started asking for pictures.

after we took pictures with the two girls, they started berating us with questions.

“Oh my god!! Are you guys dating??” one girl yelled excitedly. Before we could answer the other asked another question

“Shut up!! Are you staying with Carlos in the Ferrari garage!!??”

“NO STOP!! AHHHHH I LOVE THIS!!”

“I LOVE CARY/N!!”

The look that me and Carlos shared as they kept talking over each other screamed ‘Oh God please open elevator’ we just wanted to get to the hotel room in peace and so far peace was what we weren’t getting.

After what felt like an eternity, the elevator opened and the girls left but not without snapping more pictures of us, that would surely make it on the internet and low and behold, before we actually made it to our hotel room his phone started blowing up.

“Ay, look. They posted” Carlos said showing me his phone so I could see what he saw.

“How are they that fast? Those girls JUST took the photo” I said with a sigh as I pinched the bridge of my nose. Before Carlos could answer me, my phone started blowing up with texts from… Lance.

“Lance keeps blowing up my phone and I knew he won’t stop until I answer him.” I told Carlos because the look he gave me asked ‘who’s that?’

A scoff left my lips as I kept rereading the last sentence Lance sent me. ‘Carlos won’t treat you better than how I treated you. I treated you like a queen’. Yeah right. Maybe for two months after we got together but after? You didn’t really care, I was just something you looked good with.

I was so deep in thought that I hadn’t noticed a tear slip from my eyes that was until I felt a warm hand brush the tears away from my cheek.

“Princesa, what happen?” his tone sincere, when my eyes looked up to meet his I could see something in them. Was it hurt, hate, disgust? I couldn’t tell. Maybe it was all 3, Hurt because I was crying, Hate because of everything Lance had did to me and Disgust seeing as the girls posted private intimate photos on instagram.

-

it had been 15 minutes since my little breakdown in the hallway and Carlos was still comforting me.

“We don’t have to go to this team dinner, I can cancel on behalf of us and we can watch tv” Carlos’ hand rubbing circles on the small of my back. A small smile creeps on my face at the kind gesture.

“No, let’s go. I have to distract myself anyway, plus I miss the other drivers” I said with a small laugh leaving my lips too.

-

By the time we had arrived at the restaurant we’d already been 15 minutes late. Walking in we were greeted with a whole bunch of “Finally” “About time” “I’m starving” along with some applauses.

Carlos sat down right away muttering a few ‘shut up’s before he did while I made my way around the table saying ‘Hi’ to everyone until I got to Lance.

“Hello Lance.” it came out colder than intended but I couldn’t care less. Lance quickly stood up and grabbed my wrist and dragged me to the corner of where the rest of the grid and WAGS were sat.

“Lance, let go of me” I said sternly, I peaked behind him to see Carlos staring in my direction asking me if I was okay with his eyes.

“No. We need to talk, I’m tired of you ignoring me.” A cold icy look lingered in Lance’s eyes before I tugged my wrist back.

The look I gave Carlos told him all he needed to know, ‘save me’ and in about 10 seconds, Carlos was nudging me behind him

“Aye, Cabrón. Leave her alone, I’m asking one time and one time only. Leave. Her. Alone.” those last three words dripped venom as he spoke.

With a scoff and rolling of eyes, Lance reluctantly went back to his seat, complete opposite of mine. The few moments I had standing there before Carlos gestured me to the seat, I had a thought.

I waited until we sat back down and ordered before I pulled out my phone and took to twitter.

The tweet blew up in a matter of seconds and my single shot up to the top 10 of hot 100s in that same amount of time.

Everyone’s phone got a notification that I had posted a tweet and with a few faces casting questionable glances at me

“SHUT UP Y/N! A SINGLE? RIGHT NOW???? AT DINNER???” Lily, Oscar’s girlfriend whisper yelled and a petty smile made its way on my face.

I watched as half the people at the dinner whipped out their phones and went straight to spotify to give my song a listen and as the other half just pulled up the lyrics so give them a quick read.

“SHUT THE FUCK UPPPPPPP!!!!!! THE ASTON MARTIN LINE IS CRAZY” Alex, Charles’ girlfriend screamed as she continuously hit my arm in excitement.

The mention of the Aston Martin line is what got Lance’s attention.

“There’s an Aston Martin line? Play it out loud. I want to hear.” His voice a mixture of hurt and anger, like he was disappointed that I made a song about our breakup. What did he expect breaking up (very publicly might I add) with a singer who is known for writing breakup songs?

The people around the table all gave eachother uncertain glances before I pulled out my phone and let the whole table hear my song.

“Just for clarification, i DONT feel this way anymore.” was all I said before I pressed play. I contemplated not pressing play and just taking the song down because the look in Lance’s eyes but he shouldn’t have broken up with me because I asked him to take accountability for his mistakes and he shouldn’t have done it so publicly and they way he did.

I shook away all the thoughts of regret I was having and pressed play

“I’m an Aston Martin that you steered straight into the ditch, then ran and hid”

My words his Lance like a truck. He looked like a dear in headlights, but he continued listening nonetheless.

Once the song finished, the look in Lance’s wasn’t what I thought it would be. I thought it would be Sad, Mad, Disappointed, I wanted an angry reaction out of him but I got just the opposite. He was smiling.

“You want me back?” A smirk on his face. His reaction got everyone upset with people spewing ‘you don’t listen’ & ‘no she doesn’t’ & ‘oh my god’

“No cabrón, she doesn’t want you back.” Carlos’ accent grew thicker with each word he said.

“And why do you think that” snarky. Lance has always been a douche but right now he was the ultimate D-Bag.

Carlos didn’t respond. Well, he did, just not verbally. Instead what he did was he turned to face me and pulled me into a searing kiss. The kiss was so passionate that I’m pretty sure I felt some tongue action but that didn’t stop us. Instead the only thing the pulled us apart from each other was the slam of fists on the table and stomping feet echoing away from us.

I pulled away and looked in Carlos’ eyes

“You know that’s gonna be on instagram soon” I whispered against his lips before capturing them in another kiss

“I’m counting on it”

And to no one’s surprise, that picture was in fact all over instagram.

taglist

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99

[autisticlancemcclain]

Keith walks into his room after a deliciously vigorous training season, wiping his sweaty face with a towel, and immediately notices something is off.

He freezes, towel clamped to the back of his neck, and carefully scans his room from corner to corner. His lock was still intact when he walked in, so unlikely break-in. His bed is still exactly as messy as it was when he left it. His dresser drawer is still left cracked slightly open, as he always leaves it, because it’s harder to put a drawer back to the same level of open it was before than to close it (he’s caught Hunk snooping through his shit many a time with this method. Thanks, Pa’s paranoia).

His gaze lands finally on a nondescript black book on his nightstand, and his eyebrows shoot up. He finished his book this morning and returned it to the library on his way to the training room.

He did not leave that black book there.

Wary, a thousand anxieties running through his brain, Keith approaches his nightstand bayard-first, sword extended and sharp. He pauses before he comes in contact, taking time to analyse it, attempt to puzzle out any kind of traps or discrepancies before they jump out at him. He can’t see any — the book is on the newer side, with a roughened black hardcover, gold detailing on the spine but no title or author. The paper looks thick and it’s strangely uncut, raggedy.

Hesitantly, Keith pokes it.

Nothing happens.

Less suspicious, now, he prods at it with his hands, and when that does nothing, he picks it up. It’s heavier than he expected. He cracks open the cover to reveal a red paper lining. Stuck to the inside of the cover is a baby blue post-it note, crookedly place, with only a neatly drawn heart in glitter gel pen. Keith can’t help the smile, even as his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“What even…”

Pinching the first page from the bottom corner so as to not accidentally rip any paper, he slowly turns it over.

He gasps, fumbling with the book as he nearly drops it.

“How did it…”

He recognises the first page — it’s his. Or he made it, anyway. Scrawled in every white space of the nearly parchment-esque alien paper is his own doodling, from a boring meeting several weeks back. He recognises the slightly mean drawing of the Capnir leader and his snooty expression in the left corner, and the ninety games of tic-tac-toe he played with Lance on the bottom half of the page (Lance insisted he won because he is a nasty cheater. Keith didn’t even know it was possible to cheat at tic-tac-toe, but it is. It’s crazy).

Gobsmacked, Keith begins to flip through the rest of the pages, eyes getting wider and nose getting closer to the book with every corner he turns. These are his doodles and drawings — hundreds of them, loose papers from meetings and scrawled diagrams from mission plans and notes to other paladins and dorky little drawings he made for his friends or because of his own boredom. There are grocery lists covered in drawings of engine parts and knives and strange alien vegetables, hand-to-hand manoeuvre diagrams, several drawings of Shiro as Captain America, of Pidge and Hunk covered in soot except for the line around their eyes from their goggles, of Allura with the mice in her hair, Coran in the wackiest outfit he’s ever seen, Shiro with his eye twitching from Slav, Matt making goo eyes at Allura. Some of Kolivan, even, with over-exaggerated eyebrows and a frown that touches his neck.

And dozens, maybe even hundreds, of drawings of Lance. Smirking at Keith from across the kitchen table before he instigates a Pidge-Hunk argument, crowing in victory after making a shot, serious and focused mid battle, face drooping and sad and fixed on a glowing blue Earth projection with his chin hooked over his knees. Drawings that itched at Keith’s fingers every hour of every day, that he barely tried to resist; snapshots of Lance that plagued his mind ‘til he finally found time to grab a pencil.

Drawings that he had, apparently, left scattered all over the castle without thinking.

He cradles his flaming face in his free hand, heart pounding in his ears. He’s sure — he knows he threw half of these out. Some of them he left lying around, sure, and others he left out deliberately for his friends to find, but — Keith knows he threw out the full-page and coloured portrait of Lance, bright and beautiful in a dozen shades of earth, smiling softly at Keith in the low-light of the common room well after midnight. He can see the creases and smudges from where he’d crumpled it, embarrassed, and where someone had fished it out of the trash and carefully straightened it back out, brushing dust out of the crevices.

“Oh my God.”

Hunk would never have been able to keep the secret with how long it would have taken to bind this book — by hand, by the looks of it. Allura couldn’t either. Both Pidge and Shiro would have been gleeful in mocking Keith about the clear affection in every pencil stroke. Coran would have probably stuck it proudly on the fridge — he did that, once, Keith remembers, with a sketch he’d done of the whole team during a movie night. It’s still there; it’s been so long that Keith doesn’t notice it anymore.

There’s only one person who would pick up the discarded slips of paper and slide them in his pocket — only one person who’s that kind of sentimental. One person who prints every photograph he takes of every planet they’ve ever been on, who pins up every drawing gifted to him by young children no matter how objectively horrible, who tears off notes written in the margins of battle plans and keeps them in a jar on his dresser. Only one person who has a scrapbook with a dried blade of grass from Arus and piece of sea glass from the mermaid planet and a napkin stained with food goo from their food fight all those years ago. Hell, there’s only one person on this castle with enough skill with a needle and thread to bind a whole ass book.

Keith drops his bayard to the floor with a clatter, book clenched in his fist, and sprints out of his room. He flies down the hallway, ignoring the startled shout from Pidge as she jumps out of his way and the wide-eyed stare from Allura. He almost runs straight into his brother, spinning to the right at the last minute and rushing past him without bothering to entertain his questions. He runs all the way to the MedBay, where he knows Lance is taking inventory for Coran, and nearly crashes right into the pods because he’s too pumped up to slow down properly.

“Whoa there, cowboy, cool it before you give yourself a concussion. Christ.”

Lance places a cool hand on his shoulder, concerned, bin of counted bandages left abandoned behind him. Almost immediately his face coils in disgust.

“Aw, gross, you’re sweaty.”

But he doesn’t move his hand.

Keith stares.

How did he — how did he miss it, before?

“Keith?” Lance asks again, alarm clouding his face. “You okay, buddy?”

His fingers curve absentmindedly along the junction of Keith’s neck, and he leans in closer, and he smells so fucking good and he always does and Keith is lightheaded from more than just his cross-castle sprint.

“You’re in love with me,” he blurts, and he didn’t mean to say it like that but there’s no doubt in his words.

Lance startles, yanking his hand back in shock. Keith darts out to stop it, fingers wrapped around his wrist, keeping him from going far. Lance’s breath hitches.

“…What?”

“You’re in love with me,” Keith repeats, steadier this time. He waits a moment, then says, much more urgently: “The book.”

Mortification rings off Lance in waves.

“Oh,” he croaks. His pulse is so loud and so fast that Keith can feel it in his wrist. “I didn’t think it was — oh.”

There’s a strange quality to his voice, besides the embarrassment of getting caught, and then it clicks — he’s afraid. Of rejection, of disgust, of Keith. Keith isn’t sure. But he hates that it’s there.

Faster than he can talk himself out of, he cups Lance’s face with his free hand, relishing in the sharp intake of breath, and leans in and kisses him. There’s a moment of rigid shock on Lance’s part and it could spell trouble but Keith holds steady. He keeps his hold loose and the pressure soft and soon Lance — melts, into him, there’s no other word for it; he sinks in close and sighs and the hand Keith has gripped goes slack. His lips are soft, and his hair tickles Keith’s forehead, and Keith can still feel his jackrabbit heartbeat, and he still smells like that intoxicating mix of flowers and — sunshine, somehow, straight from the brightest days in Earth. Keith’s hands have never been steadier.

“You collected my doodles,” he says, staying close when Lance pulls gently away. He can see the deeper browns in Lance’s irises, the places where the gold gives way to near-black. They look like the flecks of the precious metal Keith would see at the bottom of the river mud in the mountains of Arizona.

“They were worth keeping,” Lance says quietly. He holds Keith’s gaze. The tips of his fingers trace Keith’s temples; they’re rough with old guitar callouses.

“You think everything is worth keeping.”

“Only the things that — bleed.”

Keith thinks that they’re both right. Lance can’t leave anything behind because he aches for the soul he finds in it. He finds the worth in everything. He found the worth in Keith.

He found enough to make Keith stay.

Keith grips the book in his right hand, left still cupped around Lance’s cheek. The difference in textures is startling, grounding.

“No one has ever done something like that for me before,” Keith admits. There’s a lump in his throat but Keith thinks it’s manageable, thinks he can talk through it. Thinks he might hold the strength for it.

Lance waits patiently.

“I want to —” Keith stops. He opens the book. The drawn Lance smiles up at him, beautiful. He looks up and Lance smiles over at him, breathtaking. “I —”

He doesn’t know how to say it. It’s there, bubbling in his chest, spilling out of him; obvious. But he doesn’t know the words for it. He’s not sure anyone’s taught him before.

“Okay,” Lance says. He tugs his wrist out of Keith’s grip then laces their hands together, squeezing. His smile only widens and he — sparkles, almost. Keith’s throat goes dry.

“Okay?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” Lance repeats, teasing. He leans in again. “I’m going to kiss you again, now.”

“Please,” Keith begs, and he does.

———

based on this post

[iloveboysinred]

Miracle [Keith Kogane]

18+ angst|Keith Kogane x reader

synopsis; During a battle with the Galra you and Keith are cornered, you give up your life to save Keith, and leave him a gift to remember you by.

cw; fem reader, angst, character death, sad Keith, mentions of blood, violence, strangulation, stabbing, heavy grief, survivors guilt.

this will probably be the last angst request I'll write given that I'm not the best at it and i hate putting out work I'm not proud of ;/. Hope you enjoy anon!

masterlist - ask

Adrenaline pulsed through your veins as you ran down the dark halls of a Galra ship. It was an endless labyrinth of walls and turns, the darkness suffocating. You'd swear you were running in circles; every time you thought you'd found another way, you were just met with another band of sentries, shooting at you, chasing you, hunting you down. You tried to keep up with Keith, his hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, but your legs were starting to get tired, and your mind was foggy and confused. You didn't know how much longer you could endure. "Lance? Pidge? C'mon guys, where are you?" you heard Keith shout, trying to reconnect his damaged helmet to the others, but to no avail.

Your mind flashed back to Earth for a second. To when you and Keith were garrison trainees. You were close, seeing through his cold exterior and becoming friends quite quickly. From then on, you have always been there for each other. Supporting each other in training and comforting each other through the good and the bad. So of course, when he had come to you for support after he caught wind of Shiro's re-appearance, you had gone with him. Never expecting to be where you are now, fighting a galactic war and constantly putting your lives at risk.

"Fuck!" Your heart dropped to your stomach when you stopped, staring up at the wall in front of you. It was a dead end. You glanced behind you; they were gaining. Keith pulled you behind him, activating his bayard. You stared in fear when the sentries parted, a large Galra soldier advancing towards you. "It appears the universe has granted me a gift," he sneered, stopping a few feet away from you and Keith. His ugly yellow teeth peeked out from under his lip in a menacing snarl, his glowing yellow eyes pinning you with unsettling malice. You felt Keith tense, his grip on your wrist falling, raising his bayard defensively. "Lord Zarkon will be pleased when I bring him the heads of the red lion's paladin and his co-pilot." He got into his own defensive stance. He was big, standing about 5 feet above you; his body was strong and muscular. His teeth shone in the dim lighting, sharp as blades. "This will be fun. I think I'll take you first, Paladin. Your death will be just the beginning of the end for Voltron. How will your pathetic band of earthlings form Voltron if they're one paladin short? It'll make it all the easier to take you out one by one." You narrowed your eyes, reaching into the band of your boot and gripping the concealed dagger you'd made sure to bring, just in case the situation got dire.

"Cmoooon Keith. Let me drive!" You whined, leaning over Keith's back, trying to reach for the controls of his cruiser. "No way, y/n. Knowing you, you'll drive us into a cliff. "Oh,  come on! You doubt my skills that much??" Keith gave you a blank look, shrugging you off. You grumbled, sitting down and wrapping your arms around his waist. He smirked, revving the engine and taking off. You flew through the desert, sand spraying in your wake. The air whipped your hair at the speed you were going exhilarating. You grinned, blood roaring in your ears. "Oh shit!" you cheered every time Keith dodged an obstacle. You gripped his waist tightly, pressing your chest against his back. 

"Keith? Keith!" You heard Lance's voice ring through his helmet, the connection glitching. "Lance! Where are you guys!? We're kind of in a situation here. The Galra have me and you cornered." "Don't worry, we know where you are. We're coming to get you in just a tick." The connection cut off once more, the radio chatter blocking out anything else being said. The Galra soldier ran towards you, swinging a large blade right towards you and Keith.

"Y/n.. I have something important to tell you." You and Keith sat in front of his house; the night sky was clear, and the moon was shining down on you. "yeah?" You looked up at him from your bowl of noodles, your cheeks full to the brim. Keith's eyes softened in adoration. "Well, I've been picking up a lot of chatter on my radar. A space vessel is approaching Earth, and I think it might be Shiro." Your eyes widened, and you swallowed your mouth full, leaning toward him intently. "Really? that's great! But... what do you think you should do?"" "Well, I was hoping we'd find the landing sight and go see for ourselves." Keith blushed at your close proximity, looking away from you, bashful of your eagerness. "Oh my gosh, we totally should! When do you think it'll land?" "My guess is that in two days, will you come with me?" You gaped at him in disbelief. "Of course I will! Are you kidding?" Keith smiled at you. You leaned forward, pressing a warm kiss on his cheek. "We're in this together, okay?" "Okay."

You flinched as Keith's body hit the floor, quickly blocking the Galra's attack with his bayard. He had him pinned to the ground, his face a few meters away from his. "I have to admit, you do put on a good fight. I wouldn't expect anything less from a Paladin of Voltron," he snarled, bearing his teeth in a sneer. His tail slapped the bayard from Keith's hands, the weapon clattering as it hit the ground a few feet away. The sentries aimed their weapons at you, stopping you as you tried to run towards them. You stood there, helpless, as you watched Keith struggle. Then, the ground shook as the wall behind you suddenly rumbled, the blue lion appearing from a newly made gap. "Cmon guys, we don't have much time. Galra fighter jets are coming quick!" Your eyes locked on Keith, and your heart raced as the blade inched closer and closer to his throat. Grabbing the dagger, you ran at the soldier, narrowly dodging a sentry blade. Using as much weight as you could to knock him off Keith, trying to give him time to escape. You slashed as much as you could, drawing blood from any skin you reached. "y/n!" Keith shouted, running to try and come to your aid, but a sentry slashed at him, causing him to fall back, holding his side where he had been hit. "K-Keith! Go! Get out of here!" you screamed, trying to hold the Galra soldier down as best you could. "No! Not without you!" he grunted, trying to stand up. You felt your body hit the ground as the soldier flipped you off of him. The air escaping your lungs from the impact. You couldn't catch your breath; the soldier was holding you down by the neck. All you could hear between Keith's shouts and the footsteps of more sentries crowding you was the fast beating of your heart. "KEITH! WE HAVE TO GO!" Lance's voice rang in your ears, but you couldn't move; your neck was starting to ache. You kicked and scratched at the galra, but the lack of oxygen was starting to weaken you. Mustering as much strength as possible, you clumsily gripped the dagger, driving it into the soldier's side, but it did little to penetrate the armor covering his body. "Even if I can't bring him the corpse of your little boyfriend, Lord Zarkon would be just as pleased knowing it's one paladin down. Ever closer to wiping out all of Voltron," the soldier purred, putting more weight down on your neck.

"You know I love you," you murmured, pressing your lips to his in a sweet kiss. Keith turned his head, pressing his lips harder, holding you close to him. You threaded your fingers through his hair, smiling as you pulled away. "I love you more," he whispered, gazing into your eyes with so much emotion that it made your heart flutter. "Pfft, big softy." He glared at you, pulling you to his chest and laying back on his bed with you.

"y/n! We can't leave her, Lance! we can't-" "Keith. We don't have time. You'll bleed out; we have to go!" You felt your vision begin to blur, and the grip on your neck felt heavier. You glanced over the Galra soldier, watching as Lance hauled Keith into the blue lion's mouth, shooting at any sentry he could. "Lance, let me go! Let me fucking go!" Keith shouted, struggling against his hold. But he was weakening; the blood streaming out of his wound was making him dizzy, and his movements were uncertain. As his vision became more and more unclear, his panic increased. Where were you? what's happening? The last glimpse he got of you was your unmoving body and the sentries crowding around you. His eyes teared as he struggled against Lance weakly, his fists clenching when Lance pulled him into a hug, constricting his arms. His vision blurred both from his tears and the blood loss. Sobs racked his body as the blue lion's mouth closed, flying out and away from the ship.

You glanced blankly at the ceiling, refusing to look the soldier in the eye as your life slowly faded. "I love you, Keith; don't worry, I'll see you again," you thought, your body going still when your breathing ceased, your heart's beating coming to a stop.

Keith might as well have been dead himself. At least that's how he felt. His heart was hollow, his mind swirling with thoughts of you and how you had passed—to save him. He couldn't even hurt anymore; he didn't feel anything most of the time. Most days where he was stuck in his head about you, he would feel pure, unbridled rage, lashing out in training sequences, pushing himself harder than he ever did before. On nights where he suffered your absence the most, he felt cold grief grip his heart so strongly that he struggled to breathe, becoming inconsolable. Tears fell heavily from his eyes when he cried. He would scream, gripping his chest through his shirt. Shiro would rush in, enveloping Keith in his arms, and he would thrash around in his hold, slightly settling down when he started to tire. Shiro comforted him, assuring him it was going to be okay. Keith couldn't hear him, zoning out and staring blankly at the ceiling with glistening eyes. Going on missions felt like torture. His attacks were uncoordinated, and the team had to make up for his lack of focus. The arguments that ensued between him and Lance almost broke into full-blown fights, Keith's heart only building more and more resentment for everyone in the castle.

Months later, here he stood, watching as Allura pressed a final kiss to Lance's lips, tears falling from their eyes, trying to savor whatever they could before they ran out of time. "Keith, look," Shiro whispered, placing his hand on Keith's shoulder. He paused for a second, the bitterness of the situation making it hard to care about what Shiro was saying. But he glanced up anyway, tears rising along his waterline. The Paladins of old—Allura's father and Zarkon's family—stand right in front of them. He felt his heart squeeze as you appeared from behind the crowd, smiling sweetly at him. You looked so beautiful. A sight for sore eyes to Keith. He ran towards you, his eyes shining with so much love and so much pain. You welcomed him into your embrace. Holding him close as he hugged you, burying his nose in your hair. You quickly pulled him into a kiss, savoring the feel of his lips one last time. "I miss you so much, Keith," you whispered, cupping his face in your hands. Keith felt his heart stop, drinking in every feature of your face, knowing he wouldn't see it for a while. "I miss you every day of my life. I love you, Y/N. So much," you smiled, pulling away from him and keeping his arms in your hold. "I love you more." "I wish you could come back to me. I should've been there with you. I'm so sorry." you shushed him. "We'll be together again. Hopefully not any time soon though!" Keith chuckled, the weight of his grief making his voice shaky. "But I've got to go, Keith. I have a gift for you. Please, heal, and forgive. I'll always have you in my heart." Keith's chest ached as you pulled away from him, taking your warmth and scent with you. "I love you." You smiled at him sweetly, Allura following you. Slowly,  you disappeared again, dissipating into the air and leaving everyone feeling bittersweet.

Keith was taken aback when he felt something shift in his arms, looking down to see a moving bundle of cloth. He heard muffled babbling, making him hurriedly unravel the bundle in shock. A pretty baby girl stared up at him; somehow she looked like you, having his dark hair and nose but your eyes, lips, and eyebrows. He gaped down at the baby, holding it close to his chest. "What ?? Where did that baby come from??" Pidge asked, coming up to peer down at the child. "Y/N left her; she's the gift." Keith whispered, his eyes crinkling in a bright smile, pressing a kiss to the baby's forehead. "She's mine. The baby's mine," he whispered, rocking the baby in his arms. The little girl glanced up at him with wide eyes, soft babbling and cooing coming from her as she happily laid in her father's arms. "How is that even possible?" Hunk whispered, glancing down at the baby, adoration in his heart. "It's a miracle." Lance whispered, standing next to Keith. Keith glanced at him for a second, mixed emotions coursing through him. He felt resentment and hatred for the man. Grief still swelling in his chest, but your words echoed in his mind: "Heal, forgive," and he gave Lance a ghost of a smile. "Yeah, she is."

The story of both you and Allura's sacrifices became sensational, with old allies of Voltron helping construct statues of you and the Altean princess standing side by side. Every once a year, the team would unite and visit the statue, sharing updates on each other's lives and recounting old missions. At every meeting, Keith would bring his daughter, making sure she was present for every story the team would share about you. "Y/N and Allura should be here. But it's because of them that we can all continue to keep peace in the universe. I can't imagine anyone braver than them." Coran sighed, glancing up at the statues with bittersweet love in his gaze. Everyone solemnly agreed, toasting to both you and Allura's legacy. Keith glanced down at his daughter, snuggled up next to him in her own chair, staring up at the statues with shining eyes and wonder. He smiled, knowing that as long as he had his miracle, he had something to live for, and some piece of you was still with him here on earth.

[verstppism]

Boy's Talk (About You) - Chapter 8

Chapter 8 - take me anywhere but home

word count: 1957

masterpost.

synopsis everyone has their secrets, a group chat formed by charles leclerc, pierre gasly, alex albon, lando norris and george russell knows all of them. the 'kill the grid' chat has only one purpose: gossiping about other drivers' lives, romantic and social

or, a casual chat leads to charles confessing a crush on max, who's has been his rival since childhood

If Charles was still half asleep, the iMessage notifications coming from Max definitely woke him up. All the nervousness and anxiety from last night made sense: Max was leaving Brazil and his girlfriend to spend New Years in Monaco. But what were his intentions behind such a sudden decision? If Max really broke up with her, then he wouldn’t be texting the older one on a cold December morning. Or would he? Max Verstappen was a confusing person. One night, he says he’s not happy with his girlfriend, the other he goes on a private padel match with his ex-rival. Things seem to go well between them.

It’s when he posts a photo with his girlfriend after the race that tears everything apart. Still in his racing suit. Messy hair. Still sweating. Everything that belonged to Charles and to him only. In fact, Max was his. Who does she think she is? Charles only thought about how he could talk so casually about Kelly right before calling him “Charlie” and pushing him as far away from Lance as possible in the sprint podium. It was driving him insane — More than he already is. After eternal minutes discussing his own love life and its frustrations, Charles notices he left Max on read, he had accidentally opened the app and his conversation with the other one.

“charlie: good morningg “

“charlie: i am! are u okay? “

Charles was really at a loss at words, so he decided to pretend that he didn’t know where Max was nor that he was a few meters from the blonde’s house.

“maxiee: yeah “

“maxiee: just had a little change of plans and came back to monaco “

“charlie: oh really? “

“charlie: did anything happen or? “

“maxiee: can we talk about this in person? “

“maxiee: we can go to that café you mentioned in the padel match “

He… Remember. Their meeting (date?) was months ago, and he remembers it. Something he slightly mentioned once in a lifetime, and he recalls it in perfect detail. Charles wonders if Max remembers everything that pondered his mind. He asks himself if he recalls their discussions back in their karting days, or when they slowly started to use pet names for the first time. In the end, did Max realize that they were made for each other, even though they were predestined to fight for a whole life?

“charlie: of course! what time? “

“maxiee: im just getting ready, i’ll be there in a couple minutes “

“maxiee: nothing is too far here “

Charles giggles at the last message, like he always did when he exchanged messages with his beloved. After all, it was more of a date orchestrated by Max — he is good at setting up dates so subtly. Or maybe Charles just accepts every invite from the other. — and again, alone together. A more casual reunion this time: without any sport or anyone that could get in their way. It seemed like a dream, Charles hoped it wasn’t.

He didn’t even mind telling his friends of such an important event, just got up from his bed and quickly got ready. Casual clothing and sunglasses to go unnoticed. It wasn’t easy to go on a date in broad daylight in a city as small as Monte Carlo.

—————

It really didn't take long for them to meet. That little cafeteria was one of the secret gems of Monaco, hidden between beautiful historic buildings. As Charles arrived, he already could see Max, stirring coffee and sugar on the delicate little cup. He was looking down, his face with little to no emotion, more like hesitant of… something. 

The doorbell ring filled the quiet place when the older entered the place getting the other's attention, which gave a soft and kinda sad smile to him. A smile that wasn't common as the post race ones or those shared in press conferences. ‘This is not the moment to overthink your relationship with him.’ Charles thought. 

“I’m not late this time. '' Leclerc broke the awkward silence between them as he sat down. “Yeah… I mean, you live around here, no?” Max sounded somewhat different. Nervous? Sad? Reading his feelings through his face wasn’t Charles’ best ability. “So remember when I told you I would spend New Years in Brazil?” 

“Of course! I was also about to ask you about it. Why did you come back home?” He said as he sat down. Home. Not the best wording at the moment, given that he’s actually Dutch and we are somewhere around near South France. It’s what they say: ‘home is where the heart is’. “Like… Did anything happen?”

“Yeah, uh…”  Apprehensive. A worried tone filled his voice. “Me and Kelly had a little fight right after Christmas and I thought it would be better for us to part ways. She wasn’t very willing to but… Can I be honest? I was growing tired of being stuck with her.”

Stuck with her. Stuck. Max was tired. Max doesn't like her. At All. Charles felt like his chest was collapsing in the best way possible. How was he supposed to act normally and feel pity for them when butterflies filled his stomach?

“And you know, I only kept the relationship up because of her daughter…” Verstappen smiled while looking at the cup. The older’s intrusive thoughts were telling to adopt a child with that man. He was such a good dad after all! “And PR too. I think our love wasn't reciprocal… I was there for the kid and she was for the status of being a Formula One driver's girlfriend.” 

“Oh Max… That's too bad. I’m so sorry for you” A pitiful look surged on Charles’ face, trying to show empathy and not that he was going insane over all of this. “I’m sure you and her will be able to meet again.” A shy smile appeared on the younger’s face when ocean and emerald eyes met. A comfortable silence surrounded them, only the ambient sound and smell of fresh coffee filled the empty café.

“Now that we are on the topic, it may sound rude but I need to get this off my chest. I doubt you two would still be together if you didn't win in 2021.” Still apprehensive, Charles felt safe to talk shit about Max’s ex-girlfriend. When he saw the other’s eyes glitter at the comment, he was sure: the blonde has been waiting forever to do this. “You doubt? I'm 100% sure! After we left RedBull’s party she started talking about marriage, mate. Can you believe that!?” 

Minutes that felt like hours passed by. Charles and Max talked about many secrets they've kept for each other for the mere thought of “this is not something you usually tell your best friend, especially when he’s dating a person you don’t really like”. In fact, they would never get to these specific topics – mostly about relationships. Maybe both were scared of oversharing and confessing their true love, ruining it all for once. The older didn't know if delusional thoughts took over, but he felt things were getting intimate, at some point, their feet touched and so their legs proceeded to slightly intertwine. 

They didn’t even bother to order food or anything. — and so the waiters did not ask them to. Perhaps it was an obvious date to whoever passed by. When leaving, Max only paid for this coffee cup that was now cold, half drunken and long forgotten on the table. Both got so deep in conversation they forgot the world keeps spinning, and the day goes by, like they always do. Like it always happens. If you didn’t know, you would guess that they were long-distance boyfriends meeting for the first time.

It was almost dusk when they left the café. The orange-ish colors in the sky implied the sun was setting, and so Max and Charles decided to walk home. Staying side by side on a very narrow sidewalk made their shoulders brush at all times.  

As they got closer to Leclerc’s house, he noticed that Max started to tense up. Was he scared of something? Scared of leaving Charles? That reaction started to worry him but as soon as they got to the older’s doorstep he spoke up, point blank:

“I… Charlie, the true meaning behind this all-of-a-sudden meeting is that… You are the love of my life. I’m sorry for not noticing it earlier.” Max stuttered, a subtle way to let the other know it was hidden and buried deep inside with fear for years and years. Maybe even his whole life. It drove Charles insane. It’s like he was feeling every single emotion at the same time. He swore he was dying or something. The older man fought every desire to kiss him right here in the middle of an empty sideroad right in front of his house, but he knew it would appear in every headline in worldwide newspapers. “Charles ‘il predestinato’ Leclerc is found kissing Life-long rival Max Verstappen”. That is not the best way to be in the news, probably something that would end their careers or worse: their friendship. With no words left to say, Charles just hugged him tight as if he would disappear at any time. “Je t'aime moi aussi, mon amour” He said as one or two teardrops slid across his cheek.

Feeling something wet hit his shoulder, Max broke the hug but still kept their bodies suspiciously close. He held the other’s face with both big hands as their eyes met once again, but now with much more compassion. After all they’ve gone through, all their ups and downs brought them to this moment. What they’ve been waiting for. 

“Wait wait wait.” Charles popped the little bubble they builded to protect themselves from the rest of the world. “Can we get inside first? I mean, it’s very romantic to kiss in the middle of the crosswalk I know but we’re kinda famous so yeah…” Max chuckled at the comment. “Of course we can, schatje”

He unlocked the door and let Verstappen enter as if nothing almost happened a few seconds ago. “Uh… So are-” He’s interrupted by the softest of lips crashing into his own, almost cornering him into a wall like a (ironically) raging bull. For the very first seconds they are both surprised by the feeling but locked in very quickly. This kiss felt like heaven, the way both mouths swayed together felt like they were pieces to a puzzle, just waiting for it to be finally found and placed together. It was definitely not what Charles thought it would be like but it was good nonetheless. 

They only broke the kiss when there was no oxygen left in their bodies still, they stayed close, panting and hanging on by a thread of spit. Leclerc hid his face on his lover’s shoulder and started giggling, ending up with a lowkey confused Max.

“Why are you laughing?” He said, with a broad smile on his face. Charles’ laugh was contagious.

“This is so stupid. Why did we take so long to do this?” 

It all came down to them snuggling together in Charles’ bed. The moonlight that invaded the room through a slightly opened window shines in their features, giving both an godly look. After a whole day spent with Max, Leclerc seemed to forget about his friends, who might’ve gone insane by his disappearance. So he was right: when checking his phone he’s welcomed with 86 missed calls, – all coming from 4 different people – and at least 300 messages coming from his group chat, Kill the Grid. Charles opens it, doesn’t read any of the past messages and starts typing.

“charlie: guys, youll never know what just happened '' Send it.

taglist: @mrsbrxkkxr , @nyxstice , @thedecalcomania-blog ,@sebastianize <3

[lola-la-cava]

If You’ll Have Me

gif not mine !

Timothée Chalamet x Reader

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

The sunlight peeking through the blinds shone. Two bodies on the bed laid, intertwined. Timothée laid with his stomach against the soft mattress. His arm wrapped around Y/N’s waist.

She opened her eyes, waking from her slumber and gazing at the sight she’d grown familiar to and loved. Y/N admired his slightly parted lips and his unruly curls covering the top half of his face. She pushed them upwards only for them to slowly come back down. Y/N giggled at this and tucked it behind his ears.

“Hm? What is it?” he asked with a raspy morning voice that gave her so much butterflies.

It had been a few months since they started going out and he never failed to make her feel all giddy and giggly like a school girl.

“Nothing, don’t worry. Good morning”, she grinned resting her forhead against his. Timothée chuckled at this and pecked her nose.

They laid like that for several minutes, bathing in each other’s presence. Whispers of sweet nothing and light grazes on each other’s bodies are exchanged. The couple cherished moments like these before the day ultimately pulls them apart like it always does.

Only this time it was different. Timothée was leaving for LA again to promote a new project. It would still be a few weeks before they got to do this again.

Y/N continued to long for a time when she could spend time with her boyfriend without getting interrupted by press junkets, reshoots and award shows. They both did, but most of her job kept her tied down here. In New York. All the way across the country from LA.

Until now.

She’d recently resigned to pursue a more free lance job.

She groaned as she pushed herself up to sit up against the headboard. “Oh God, I can’t believe you’re leaving again”.

Timothée sighed as he looked up at her admiring her features. “I know, but it’ll be shorter than the other trips, I promise”

Y/N raises her eyebrow at this.

He sits up, putting his hands up in defeat, “Honest to God! I just have around 15 interviews scheduled. I’ll be done with in 3 days. I have a talk show to do and a fitting for the-“

Timothée continued to talk, but Y/N also commented. “-Hey, don’t worry. Take your-“

“And I have a bunch of open houses to go to”

Her heart drops at the sudden statement.

The room silences. “Open house, huh? When’d you start looking?”

He scratches the back of his neck, “Around 3 months ago?”

She inaudibly scoffed.

The audacity this man had. They’d been dating for months and not a single word of this came out of his mouth. Was he just gonna lead her on? Make her make a drastic decision about their relationship on the brink of him moving to the other side of the country? Y/N didn’t even know anymore.

But of course, she had no right to influence his choice in this. He’d been working toward where he was for years now. And he had nowhere to go but up. Y/N couldn’t help but be proud of him and support him. No matter what he does.

She put on a small smile.

“That’s great, Timmy. Oh, I’m so happy for you”

“Well, nothing’s really sure for now, but yeah fingers crossed.” he smirks optimistically with a blank stare on the comforter.

He zoned out, imagining their life there. He kind of expected her to handle the news with more enthusiasm. Of course, this wasn’t the ideal way he thought to reveal it, letting it accidentally slip out in a vent, but still. Y/N seemed solemn almost sad. Like the way she seemed whenever he’d leave for another trip.

Timothée’s body tensed all of a sudden. He looked at Y/N with a confused expression

“Y/N?” he called out to her, letting his hand rest on top of hers. She hummed earnestly. “You don’t think I’m moving by myself, do you?”

She sat up at his words, her e/c eyes trained on his. “You’re not?”

He started laughing. Loudly. As if he was teasing her for thinking that. Truly he was cackling because it was so appalling to the point that it was funny.

She frowned at this, “What are you laughing at?” He pretends to wipe away tears threatening to come out of the corners of his eyes and pouted. “Aw, did you really think I’d leave without you?”

“God, Timmy! Why’d you have to scare me like that!” The heart that was previously in her stomach soared. Y/N looked into his eyes for a second before she jumped into his lap to give him a bear hug. She remained clinging onto him.

For a few minutes, they stayed like that. Y/N fiddled with the curls in the back of his head as he rubbed her back. His hand all of a sudden rested on her cheek, bringing her gaze to him. “So, how ‘bout it?”

“I’d love to”

He grinned at her words and placed small kisses all over her face.

“If you’ll have me”

“It would be my pleasure, mon ange”

[oscarpiastriwdc]

albums i would play for each driver on the 2024 F1 grid to expand their music taste

Max Verstappen: Graceland by Paul Simon - As a fan of classic and folk rock, I'd imagine Max has been exposed to Simon and Garfunkel and I think he'd enjoy the sprawling, detailed, careful expanse of Simon's solo masterpiece. Angels in the architecture spinning in infinity, etc etc

Checo Perez: Ramomex by Rebel'd Punk - One of the Mexican bands who pioneered punk music in the country, but Checo probably missed this release because he was too busy karting and moving to europe as a teen. It's never too late to have a proper angry punk phase, though.

Charles Leclerc: Ten Love Songs by Susanne Sundfør - Groundbreaking, life-altering pop music that pushes every boundary. This hits the sad songs craving and I think would interest him as a musician and burgeoning songwriter.

Carlos Sainz: Ultraviolence by Lana Del Rey - daddy issues. I just know he'd vibe out to Brooklyn Baby.

Lando Norris: Destiny by DJ Sabrina the Teenage DJ - I dream of sitting him down and exposing him to actually good, interesting, fun contemporary dj music.

Oscar Piastri: Speaking in Tongues by Talking Heads - He has that certain David Byrne swag and demeanor of someone who'd love the Talking Heads if only given the chance.

Fernando Alonso: 10,000 gecs by 100 gecs - At first the old man would be extremely confused but once he was on board he would be blasting The Most Wanted Person In The United States all day every day.

Lance Stroll: Talon of the Hawk by The Front Bottoms - that post that's like the problem is men are making podcasts instead of forming midwest emo bands. but it's men are becoming f1 drivers instead of forming midwest emo bands. I think some TFB exposure could be the spark of inspiration for a great career pivot.

Lewis Hamilton: Maps by billy woods and Kenny Segal - I fear Lewis might have been too worried about Merc's performance last year to have checked out this fantastic collaboration that was one of 2023's best albums.

George Russell: Contra by Vampire Weekend - I just saw Vampire Weekend live following the release of the new album and at the show there was a guy a few feet ahead of me in the merch line who had the exact same energy as GR. The mix of prep vibes and world music would work into his taste while expanding his listening beyond coldplay.

Yuki Tsunoda: GLOW ON by Turnstile - 100% a selfish pick, I want to mosh with Yuki in the pit of a Turnstile pit.

Daniel Ricciardo: The Panhandlers by The Panhandlers - A country supergroup I return to time and again, wistful and nostalgic, making you yearn for West Texas no matter where in the world you are.

Alex Albon: Pelican West by Haircut 100 - Funky British jazz pop, perfect for dancing and vibing.

Logan Sargeant: Crying, Laughing, Waving, Smiling by Slaughter Beach, Dog - I fear Logie might be too young or too norm core to have had a proper Modern Baseball phase (it's never too late logie! listen to Intersection!) but Ewald's 2023 offering seems like something he missed last year that's perfectly up his alley.

Valtteri Bottas: Merriweather Post Pavillion by Animal Collective - Weird and complex, I think he should throw it on while on a long bike ride and let his mullet fly in the breeze.

Zhou Guanyu: God Save the Animals by Alex G - no you don't understand i need him to listen to Alex G he would love it

Kevin Magnussen: Heaven or Las Vegas by Cocteau Twins - Ethereal music he can feel and let wash over him in a wave to relax and transcend the horrors of driving for Haas.

Nico Hulkenberg: Supernatural by Santana - dad music but make it funky and good

Pierre Gasly: Sex Dreams and Denim Jeans by Uffie - A perfect twist on early 2000s French electronic music, I think it'd remind him of the club while sounding entirely new and make him want to pick up a side dj gig of his own.

Esteban Ocon: Lescop by Lescop - French indie pop-rock! His most recent album is fantastic, but Este should check out Lescop's 2013 debut first.

following a conversation with @liamlawsonlesbian and her definitive book rec list i'm doing something similar for music (she bullied me into posting this sorry). large range in popularity/mainstream-ness of artists depending on the driver and what i think they're already listening to.

[angelsbless]

Hihi! I saw the ‘Mashle characters and talking about them romantically’ you wrote and was wondering if you could do it for Dot maybe ???

There’s a HUGE lacking of stuff for him in my opinion and he’s just a goober

FINALLY BACK TO BLOG SO...YES!! OF COURSE!! I'M SO SORRY FOR BRING SO LATE HON 🙏🏻. i mean i read mashle scenarios often and i rarely see something about Dot. He's got so much potential fr! Here you go i hope you like it dear 🤍.

How would mashle characters react if they heard you talking about them romantically.

DOT BARRETT

So you asked Lance to go out with you to help you shop for a gift, and of course it was for Dot since you didn't know what he would like and even if Lance hated to admit it, he spent most of his time with him so it was the ideal person to help you.

As you walked with Lance Looking around the town, Dot coincidentally sees you two and he felt his heart ach as he decided to follow you to get better context of what's going on.

Entering shops with Lance and looking for items while happily giggling and smiling, Dot felt sadness rush into him as he watched the two of you from afar. It used to be him, the one you hang out with the most, the one you always talked to, the one who sees that beautiful smile of yours and makes you giggle all the time. He thought he was special to you, as you always tend to take care of him and comfort him, He thought.....you liked him

That's at least what he was thinking, he did like you too and was planning on how to confess, he liked you quite a lot and he only realized it now.

As you and Lance were done with shopping, you decided to stop by a cafe so you could treat him and thank him for spending his precious time helping you, he refused to be treated by you as he said that he would gladly help you anytime, but couldn't resist when he saw how persistent you were.

As you two sit at a table enjoying the crêpes and the milk chocolate you ordered, Dot sat at a table near you to hear you conversation better.

" Lance, do you think he will like it? I really hope he does i wanna make him happy"

" that idiot would be in heaven just at the thought of you buying him something, and if he doesn't like it, i'll obviously smack him, what do you even see in him"

Dot was confused, he didn't know who you were talking about so he had to listen carefully to the rest of the convo.

" Don't say that Lance, i know that you have a soft spot for him as well, to be honest, i really like Dot, he brings me cheerfulness and he's a sunshine, i can't even think of being sad next to him, and he's so precious, he always protects me even by his life, i feel safe with him, i wanna be his safe place as well "

"eh, she...likes me..she thinks of me this way...i..i" Dot was thinking to himself as he felt a few tears dropping, he couldn't help but get up and go straight up to you and embrace you in the tightest, most gentle hug.

" i love you, i love you so much, thank you, thank you for thinking about gifting me gifting me something, you're the best gift i could ever ask for, would you be my girlfriend "

You were surprised but still hugs him back and caresses his back gently as you said.

" of course Dot, i love you too "

So, this is my first headcanon after not writing for almost 3 months, i hope i didn't lose my touch, and i'm officially back now since i'm done with the university's inscription and entrance exam, requests are open for you angels, luv you guys 🤍🤍

[seeingivy]

sick with sadness

actor eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting fic

content: mentions of depression/anxiety, getting taken advantage of, pure sadness NO happy in this chapter

an: I am alive. I am convinced I have some underlying chronic disease or illness going on with the way the past three weeks have gone, but I am alive. we are all going to close our eyes and read this chapter and then move on.

previous chapter

--

Eren’s tenth birthday is the first time he feels it. 

He sits on the spiral staircase to watch the crowd roar on outside, well past the normal time he’d be asleep. He can feel the tiredness sitting in his eyes, the stuffy, starched suit his mom forced him to wear digging into his neck. There’s a mix of blue, green, and yellow confetti littered on the floor, a sticky grime to the usual pristine house his mom’s meticulousness affords - and he hates it. 

From his vantage point, he can see every corner of the party, the expansive glass doors letting him catch every person laughing, enjoying, swinging to the beat of the music. Armin and Bertholdt are pouring salt into Historia and Annie’s drinks while they use the bathroom, Sasha and Jean are being way too aggressive with the pinata, and Mikasa’s braiding a little flower crown for a very smiley Marco. 

His parents' friends, people whose movies he’s spent years watching when he grew up, studied when he was at the SHWA are on the right side of the lot, sparkling dresses getting ruined by the mud in the backyard and their expensive jewelry discarded on the tables. 

And all Eren can do is watch. Whatever it is, the block in his chest, that’s stopping the breath from reaching his lungs - it’s gluing him down to the seat, making every part of his brain feel heavy and his arms feel loose. 

If souls were real, his would be hundreds, thousands of miles away - detached from his real body. 

He hears a loud pounding and turns his neck to find Ymir and Reiner poking the little aquarium to the left of the staircase. The fish he picked out with Zeke on his last birthday, the picture perfect day of quiet solitude, are frantically swimming around the tank.

He watches the two of them, their inquisitive eyes laughing as the fish duck around the tank after each respective smack. The lights flicker every time Ymir pounds her closed fist against the glass, the sound so loud that it smacks against the wall behind it. 

And suddenly, the sound, that sound, is all too loud, so jarring that before he knows it there’s thick tears pouring out of his eyes and his voice is getting all tangled in his chest. He’s not sure how he got there, but suddenly he’s standing up, freed from the stairs, and yelling at the two of them. 

“Stop smacking against the glass, Ymir! They don’t like that.” 

Ymir looks over, a confused and almost bored look on her face. Reiner's eyes, he's so puzzled, only make his skin burn more. Reiner’s looking at him like there’s something wrong with him. 

Is there something wrong with him?

“It’s just a fish, Eren. They don’t even care.” Ymir says, bending back over to focus her eyes on the glass. 

“They do care! Every time you punch the glass they swim away because they’re scared.” Eren says, his chest heaving too hard, his mind not catching fast enough to stop it. 

Reiner and Ymir shrug as they walk away, the two of them giving Eren pitchy awkward smiles as they each squeeze his shoulder once. And when they’re finally out of their vantage point, the tears are only hotter, faster, scalding hot as he stares at the fish in their little cave, instead of swimming freely in the tank. 

The fish, long gone, are always what come back to Eren when the feeling returns. 

When the sadness takes residence in his chest.

--

“Sorry…line?” Eren says, giving an awkward smile to the director as he turns his neck to the right. 

The director, David Lance, rolls his eyes as he cuts filming on the scene, very aggressively calling for lunch. Eren feels his throat sink into his chest, the regret settling in regardless, as he watches him angrily storm off, the cast and the crew awkwardly shuffle behind him. 

He should have spent longer memorizing his lines. Or at least reviewed them this morning. Eren shuffles his feet to the coffee cart as he starts apologizing to the cast and crew, who are all but kind to him about his performance. Truly, his only saving grace in the personal hell that he’s living in.

Deep down, Eren knew that whatever he worked on next, wod never compare to the work that he did on Attack on Titan. Getting to work with his biggest role models, all of the people he grew up with, the girl he was in love with right across the door from him - it was virtually impossible for anything to shape up. 

He just didn’t realize it would be this fucking bleak on the other side. 

The plot of Satellite Port is mediocre at best. Another cheesy astronaut movie, clearly trying to catapult off the success of the feature film that won best picture last year. A half-assed director - who can’t even fucking direct - and maybe the stupidest dialogue he’s ever seen in his life. 

Eren’s a good actor. But even he can’t fix this. 

And he’s had enough when he hears an irritated sigh behind him and turns around to find Gianna de Anola, his prissy co-star, glaring at him. An ice-cold supermodel, Gianna’s making her break onto the acting front, trying to fall in the footsteps of her world-famous triple threat mother. 

“You know, maybe if you didn’t stay up jerking off, we’d actually be able to finish this movie on time.” she says, slouching down in her chair as her assistant brings her lunch to her side. 

If Eren could, he’s strangle her assistant every time he walked over. And then her for good measure too. 

“I wasn’t jerking off.” Eren mutters, grabbing his script from the table as he flips to the end of the pages. His lines are all highlighted and he can feel his frustration growing even deeper as he remembers he spent two hours doing this scene yesterday. 

“You want to know something embarrassing, Eren?” Gianna says, twisting the straw in her soda can with her perfectly manicured fingers. 

From the look on her face, Eren already knows. She’s going to say something that’s going to ruin his whole day. 

“Please, Gianna. I’m dying of fucking curiosity over here.” 

“You spend all your time watching your little pop-star girlfriend perform on her world tour. You wake up at the ass crack of dawn, sacrifice the movie you’re working on, probably text her good luck before every show of hers and I’ll give you twenty bucks she won’t even come to your premiere.” 

“She’s not my girlfriend.” 

Eren drops his script on to his lap, his ears burning with irritation, at idiots like Gianna. The picture perfect image of nepotism.

Eren’s not trying to be hypocritical. He knows that his parents are famous actors, his brothers at the top of the industry, which sets him out to be a premier face in the industry. But Gianna is a whole different breed. 

Because Eren’s trying. He- he has a reason for wanting to do this. There’s a difference between him and her. 

There’s a part of him, deep down, that’s enthralled with the job he gets to do. That encourages, cherishes, deeply acknowledges that what he gets to do is a privilege. 

Eren is making art. He gets to tell stories about people's lives and take every broken part of him and make it into something great. He can pour every negative, disgusting, boring, happy, ecstatic moment he’s ever had into a scene to make it something better. 

Have someone watching his work at home feel seen, have their chest stir and their eyes water because someone out there feels the same thing he does. Make people feel nostalgic, excited, sad - to feel the feelings with him. To be with him from the beginning of the story till the end, to be excited about what he has to say and what he has to do. 

Eren’s parents are famous. And by definition, so is he. But there’s a part of him, deep down, that wants to prove himself. Show that he has feelings, emotions, something to share with people that’s true, authentic - and not just because it was what he was meant to do. 

And he knows that’s not the case here. 

She’s a specific type. Part of the clear cut, mindless army of people with famous parents - living, thriving off what gets them attention next. It makes Eren sick, makes his stomach turn over in circles and circles until he’s churning with anger. So angry, so negative that it makes his skin itch like he’s covered in dirt. 

He looks over at Gianna, a smirk pressed on her perfectly airbrushed face from the makeup team, and he can’t help but feel the burning in his chest sink lower and lower until it’s replaced with ice cold. A hollow wind, rustling through trees.  

It’s because he knows Gianna is right. And that if an idiot like her can catch onto it, it won’t be fast until everyone else follows, until he’s the radio clown in the papers next week. 

Because despite your best efforts, Eren knows deep down that she’s right. 

You won’t be coming to his premiere. You’re above it. 

--

Eren swirls the fizzy drink in his hand as he leans against the wall, eyes focused on every person and almost no one in the room at the same time. And he’s trying to push that feeling down, the block in his chest, as he tries to memorize all the faces here, everyone celebrating in front of him. 

He’ll remember this moment as the sweetest one. When he can finally say goodbye to this godforsaken movie. He feels a smack on his shoulder and a sudden flash in his eyes, all his senses bombarded all of a sudden. 

“TMZ! TMZ! TMZ!” 

“Connie. Would it kill you to be quiet for maybe like five minutes?” Jean mutters, rolling his eyes as he shoves Connie to the side. 

Eren finds Connie, Jean, Armin, and Marco in his periphery, the three of them smiling big at him. Connie and Jean have clearly already had too much to drink - from the way their ties are loosened against their necks and the pink tints on their cheeks. 

And from the way they’re currently trying to wrestle each other at his wrap party. 

“Do you ever think about that? Armin is literally like paparazzi with that fucking polaroid camera. He’s been a little bitch like that since he was fifteen.” Connie says, squishing Armin’s cheek, as Armin frantically tries to swat him off. 

“Like you’re any better, Connie. You’ve been doing the same thing to Eren and Y/N since like the first day of filming.” Marco responds, taking the spot next to Eren, giving him a smile. 

“See but. That was me helping a brother get it. I got so tired of seeing his little horny, wimpy eyes I just had to help him out.” Connie responds, snickering with Jean.

“Oh my god. Connie look, it’s that girl from Death Note.” Eren says, pointing in an ambiguous mention. 

Connie’s so frazzled by the mere mention of her - and the alcohol in his system surely can’t help - that he’s dragging Jean to the other side of the room where Eren pointed, the two of them creating a mess of knocking things over as he leaves. 

In another life, and probably in this one too, Eren thinks that Connie was raised in a barn. 

Armin and Marco lean against the wall with Eren, the three of them staring across the room together now. After six months of pure torture - the most irritating director known to man, the biggest diva as his co-star, and the sweltering heat of Tampa, Florida - Eren’s finally been freed from the godforsaken Satellite Port movie. 

The day he’s been looking forward to, since he started all this, is finally at his front door and he can’t be more than relieved. He gets to hear the ratings for the movie at the end of the party, celebrate with his friends, and finally see you after seven months. 

And stick it to Gianna di Anola’s face that you still love him. Granted, she doesn’t know that you two are actually dating or that you even love each other - no one does besides your friends - but he can still have the satisfaction. Of imaging her stupid face pursed up in irritation at being wrong. That he has something she doesn’t. 

“Can I say something you potentially might not like?” Armin says, tucking the polaroid he just took - the tops of Connie and Jean’s eyes and a very confused looking Eren in the back - into his coat as he leans back. 

“Sure.” Eren responds. 

“I really hate your co-star. She- she’s so annoying.” Armin responds, sighing. 

Eren laughs as he pats Armin on the shoulder, amused that Armin thought something like that could offend him. 

“Imagine working with her for six months.” Eren deadpans, eliciting laughs from both Armin and Marco. 

The feeling - the overwhelming, all consuming wave of panic - is subsiding in his chest as Marco laughs at his side, the three of them nitpicking everyone in the room to pass the time. No one’s safe from the three of them - every stuck up friend of Gianna’s, the coattail hanging out of David’s outfit, and the godforsaken designer - they're not safe from the three of them

“David Lance has a stick up his ass and that’s what he used to write that dogshit script.” Eren says, his face hurting from smiling. 

“And the best part? Gianna di Anola thinks the script is amazing because she can’t even read it.” 

Armin, Marco, and Eren turn their heads to find Sukuna at their side, a devious smirk pressed onto his lips. They all laugh as Sukuna slides against the wall next to Eren, taking the glass from his hands, and downing the last of the liquid. He makes a weird face as he swallows, turning to Eren.

“Are you drinking apple cider?” 

“I don’t like to drink.” Eren responds. 

Sukuna gives him a polite nod before rolling his eyes, his glare focused toward the front door. Hyla Clarkson - the girl that Sukuna has publicly been feuding with for the past few months - just entered, pressing kisses to Gianna and her family. 

All he knows is that if he tallied up every time Hyla and Sukuna argued and fought, she would win - by a longshot. Sukuna’s still blacklisted from getting hired by certain studios - a fact he only knows because he only ever took Satellite Port because Sukuna was supposed to be there with him. It was a rude surprise when he showed up and got left to fend for himself. 

“So are you on again or off again?” Armin asks. 

“On. But- I. I don’t know - they’ve got this way of sucking you in.” he responds. 

“Wasn’t she dating that model last week? What’s his name again, something-” Marco starts. 

“No. You know how tabloids are, they-they’re always on some shit.” Sukuna responds. 

Eren puts a hand on Sukuna’s shoulder and squeezes, pushing even further. 

“So did they photoshop that picture of them kissing or-?” Eren says, a teasing tone in his voice. 

“She was just trying to piss me off, it-it’s all part of the chase. Plus, you should know of all people, Eren. You’re telling me everything that the tabloids write about Ricky and Y/N is true?” 

Eren lets go, his throat dry at the mention of it. He can feel his knuckles turning white against the empty glass Sukuna handed back to him, Marco and Armin finishing off the conversation for him. Eren’s too busy seeing red to even pay attention, at the thought of Ricky James. 

Eren's never met Ricky James. But he knows far too much. He’s read every Wikipedia page, scoured every tabloid, fan page, supporting comment, Reddit thread about him. 

One of the worst parts of being famous? People can comment, theorize, and speculate about every aspect of your life. Even worse? That there’s a breadth of information to pit yourself against, to pinpoint all the perfections and none of the flaws for his self-imagined competition.

And Eren hates to think that way, to take the words of teenage girls and tabloid writers to heart, but there’s a small part of him that feels sick from the entire ordeal. Because everyone thinks Ricky James is better for you than him. 

He’s a twenty year old singer-songwriter from a small town in New York, who's recently been breaking into the acting scene. Like you, he’s one of the few premiere actors who has pulled in the industry who doesn’t come from a famous family. And like you, he’s charming and mesmerizing - beloved by the people. 

And ever since you both got cast in Little Women together - him as Laurie and you as Amy - and the press tours started all people can do is talk. And Eren, every self-preservationist thread of him gone - can only listen. Watch fans edit videos of you two being cute together for ten minutes, listen to podcasts where the two of you gush about each other's talents, see that Ricky was able to get time off in his schedule to go to your tour when Eren was stuck on Satellite Port. 

It fills him with rage. And it makes him feel less than. And every time Eren tries to shut the voice in him down, to convince himself that it’s not true and that you’re still at your best, he comes out short. Granted, a personal affliction for negative thoughts is easier to shut out. To convince himself that he’s making it up. Seventy thousand people affirming his worst fears makes it harder. 

“Wasn’t it their fault you got fired from the ensemble of Last Voyage? And Satellite Port?” Armin asks, remembering the tabloid blast from the past few months. 

“Yeah, well not her but the people around her. Her dad especially - they have so much pull, it’s insane. And-and they play mind games and shit, I couldn’t even tell you the half of it. It’s-” 

Right on cue, Hyla walks up to the four of them, a sickly sweet smile on her face. She’s wearing a long, willowing green gown and watches her stick her hand out for Sukuna. And Eren’s floored when he watches Sukuna purse his lip and give a polite excuse me as she whisks him away, leaving the three of them on the wall. 

Armin gets pulled off the wall by Connie and Jean who have returned with Misa, who is apparently a really big fan of Armin’s. And by how pink Connie is, giggling like there’s no tomorrow, Eren knows it's better to stay away from him to avoid any chance of second hand embarrassment. 

“I always miss this.” Marco says, a soft smile on his face. 

“Connie being a dumbass?” Eren asks.. 

“I mean, not particularly that, but all of us being together. It feels weird to be so far away from everyone when we’re all doing things so different.” Marco responds. 

Eren knows Marco far too well to be doing this. 

“Quit trying to psychoanalyze me, Marco.” Eren asks, narrowing his eyes at him. 

“That’s my job.” 

Eren and Marco turn their necks to find Historia in a pale blue dress, a soft smile on her face. They both rush forward and immediately wrap their arms around her, both taking a second to press a kiss to her cheek. 

“So what are we psychoanalyzing Eren about, Marco?” Historia asks, the two of them giving teasing smiles. 

“Nothing. We’re not psychoanalyzing me about anything. I’m fine.” 

“Y/N. Ricky James. Everyone being so far away, but her specifically.” Marco responds. 

Historia pinches her mouth into a straight line, the look in her eyes making Eren feel like a scolded child. If it was a different person, Eren would feel pitied. By both of them. But he knows them both far too well to know they’re the few people in his arsenal who would fight for him. 

“Ricky James. Huh? Seems like an asshole a little bit.” Historia states, swiping two ice cream cups off the tray. She hands the extra to Eren, leaning towards Marco as they share the other.

“You’re just saying that because you feel loyalty to me, Hisu. I’m sure he’s a nice guy and Y/N seems to like him.” Eren responds, his chest feeling like an anvil all of a sudden. 

Historia frowns as she turns to his side, her eyebrows knit together in frustration. 

“Yeah. I don’t like him because I feel loyalty to you, Eren. But I also don’t like him because he was friends with John.” 

Marco and Eren both clear their throats and swallow hard at the mention, the regret sitting in Eren’s chest for even saying that in the first place. On instinct, Eren wraps his arm around Historia’s shoulder, Marco following suit as they both rest their heads against hers. She sighs at the touch, squeezing both of their shoulders in response. 

Mentioning John is basically like saying the devils’ name for Historia. The music producer that she had been working with since she was seventeen and the one who all but pounced on her the second she turned eighteen. Eren thinks it’s disgusting that the same thing happened basicallly happened. Levi told him that he has forewarned him.

The two of them had made so many hit songs together, he’d basically helped Historia start her music career. When they got together that no one batted an eye. They were charming and celebrated - ignoring the fact that Historia was only nineteen and John was in his thirties. That Historia looked awkward and uncomfortable near him. 

Everything came crashing down a year ago when Historia got dumped, for lack of a better word, on the side of the street and left to a swarm of paparazzi after an argument she had with him. Ymir and Sasha were the ones who got to her the fastest, ducking her into a car, and hiding her for the time being. 

But in true Historia fashion, she was never one to be quiet. She wrote Dear John. Made art out of her pain, something Eren could only admire and love her for. Her effortless way of bouncing back, of jumping straight back into what hurt her for the sake of art was something only Eren could dream of possessing.

Something he envied when everything weighed so heavy on his mind. 

“I’d kill him if he did anything like that to her.” Eren states. 

“I’d help you.” Historia responds. 

“Speaking of, I haven’t talked to her in a while. Is she taking breaks with the tour and movie and all?” Marco asks. 

“She doesn’t take breaks. From the way she’s going, I don’t think she’ll stop till she gets what she wants. Which, you need that type of drive to do this. To get what she wants.” 

Historia brings her hand up to Eren’s shoulder again, squeezing. 

“Eren. When was the last time you talked to her?” 

“It’s-it’s been a while with the time differences. When she’s not performing, she’s writing. And when she’s done writing, she’s practicing lines. There’s not really any time for that and I’m not going to be the one to pull her back when she’s in the zone and-” 

“Eren. I’m sorry.” Historia says, her voice borderline pleading. 

“It’s okay, it’s not a big deal-” 

“Do you know how rare it is to have what you do? It’s insane that two people can even like each other at the same time but to be in love, so fully and unselfishly, you-you can’t let that get away from you.” Historia says, her eyes turning red and her voice getting louder as she goes on. 

“Hisu. I-” 

“We’re seeing her next week for the awards and your birthday. Just-just tell her, okay? I’ll kill you if you let something like this pass you by. Or I’ll haunt you from my grave if I’m dead.” Historia says. 

“You sound like me.” Marco says, giving her a teasing smile. 

“Shut up, Marco.” she responds. 

Eren leans into their touch, their limbs all still tangled together, as he sighs into the air, trying to focus on the good. That they’re here with him, even if you can’t be. And that'll be you instead of them in a week. 

It doesn’t work. The sadness still creeps in. 

--

Eren closes out all the tabs of his laptop as he sees your picture flash against his screen, accompanied by his ringtone. He slides the video call open, the mere sight of you making his heart ache. 

“Hi Eren.” 

“Hi Y/N. Ready for your show?” 

“Eh. Almost.” 

Eren glares, narrowing his eyes at you as he waits for your laugh. You’re basically primed to perfection - your hair perfectly blown out, your sparkly silver dress pinned down, and your glittery makeup shining. 

“Okay, okay. I’m ready, I just wanted to call you.” 

Eren frowns, realizing that his shortcomings were so horrible, that they were enough to illicit a call from you when you were this busy. 

“Because I’m a failure?” 

“Eren. You’re not a failure. You-when have we ever cared what the Elms have said?” 

The Elms officially released their gold standard review of Satellite Port last night. Eren wasn’t expecting much, knowing that this was far from his best work, but the review was scathing. And the articles that followed were even worse. He’d spent all morning reading them, his chest burning and his head becoming a solid rock weighing him down with every last word. 

The worst thing that we see nowadays is a waste of talent. A true, self-actualized potential fall short. Our latest example? Attack on Titan star, Eren Jaeger. After garnering himself a total of three nominations the Institute last award season, it seems that the actor is on the come down. His work in Satellite Port was described as insanely mediocre, almost painful to watch knowing that this is the same boy who acted in the infamous Thank You scene - which garnered him his first Institute Award win. Eren is nominated for four awards at the Institute TV Awards next week - Best Actor in a Lead Role, Best Actor in a Drama Series, Best Scene, and Ensemble Cast - which will most likely be his last nominations ever with the work that he’s been putting out. We’ll see if Hange Zoe and Levi Ackerman can wrangle him in place for the last season of Attack on Titan and salvage his career. 

“The things the Elms said about you and Armin back in the day were baseless. You- they just didn’t like you because of your parents. You’ve proved yourself over time and time again. I had all these things stacked up against me, there should have been no reason I failed and I did anyway.” Eren responds. 

He watches you frown on the other side of the screen as you lean forward, your eyes washed over in concern. Eren immediately feels guilty for worrying you right before you’re about to perform, trying to save face as fast as possible. 

“I’m just going to be upset about it today and I’ll be okay tomorrow, alright?” Eren asks. 

“Just today, Eren. I’ll kill you otherwise, you little bitch.” you respond, giving him your best angry look. 

Eren laughs at your profanities, which elicits a smile from you. 

“You kiss your mom with that mouth, Y/N?” 

“Mhm. And I kiss you with it too.” 

“You’re so vulgar.” 

“Wanna know something cool? Yesterday, when I was performing New Year’s Day at the start, the applause literally went on for n-” 

“Nine minutes. And then they cheered your name for another ten after you walked off for your outfit change.” Eren responds, finishing your sentence. 

“You watched?” 

“Don’t be stupid. I watch you every time you perform. I like watching you - the faces you make when you’re singing your songs and smiling at people - it’s cute. Makes it easier when I miss you so much.” 

He watches you sigh, your face contorting into a frown. 

“I miss you too. I-I’m really excited to see you next week.” 

“Me too.” 

He watches you finish off your routine - as you clip on your earrings and fiddle with the ends of the hair as your team starts moving around you, pointing at their watches to indicate that you’re going to go on soon. 

“Wanna know the stupidest thing about your tour, Y/N?” 

“There’s stupid things on my tour?” 

“Just the one.” 

“Please enlighten me, wise one.” 

“You sing New Year’s Day with a piano backtrack instead of playing the piano.” 

“What’s the point of learning how to properly play the piano when you’ll always be there to do it for me?” 

He feels his chest stirring at the words, even more when you blow him a kiss before hanging up to perform. His phone screen is left on your contact, the picture of the two of you making him smile. 

He closes out all the tabs of the reviews, replacing them with the live stream of your show as he crawls back into his bed. And when he watches you wink at the camera right before you start singing New Year’s Day with your piano backtrack, he knows its for him.

--

“Ymir. This isn’t even half convincing.” Eren says, trying to swat her hands off his covered eyes. 

“Shut the fuck up. You don’t even know what’s coming.” Ymir responds, pushing hard against his eyes as she swings him into the little foyer. 

“It’s my birthday. Almost everyone we know is in town for the award show tomorrow. None of you guys have said happy birthday to me and now you’re inconspicuously leading me somewhere with my eyes covered. Oh, I’m dying of curiosity here, Ymir.” 

“You’re no fun.” she responds, lifting her fingers off his eyes. He’s met with the sight of everyone popping confetti in his face at the same time, an excited amount of cheers filling up the air. 

Mikasa and Armin reach him first, almost everyone wrangling them in his arms and smacking him on the back. Connie offers him his first legal shot as a twenty-one year old, which Levi confiscates in three seconds. Reiner rolls his eyes as he swings a sash around Eren’s neck, which elicits an insurmountable amount of laughter from everyone.

“Mother to be?” Eren asks, reading the sparkly cursive writing on the sash. 

“They ran out of birthday sashes. And giving birth is basically adjacent to birthdays, so I figured it was the best one. It was either that or a quinceanera.” Reiner explains. 

“A quinceanera is a real birthday dumbass.” Eren responds, shoving him to the side. 

Everyone’s too overzealous and excited to hand him gifts because they’re immediately sitting him down, handing him packed boxes. Hange and Levi gift him an expensive watch, the pair of them pressing a kiss to his head, before retreating upstairs to their rooms, arms locked together and whispering in each other's ears as they go up.

Reiner and Bertholdt give him gag gifts first - which are just framed pictures of every time he’s flipped off paparazzi - before giving him his real gift, their annotated versions of the original Attack on Titan script. 

Eren’s been a big fan of Reiner’s blocking notes since they were students together at the SHWA, because Reiner clearly has no conception of what the blocking notes are actually supposed to be. Instead of writing in his own staging spots and directions from the crew, he writes his own commentary on the script. 

Eren flips to the marked page, the big reveal scene, and finds Reiner’s handwriting at the button. 

Reiner: I’m the Armored and he’s the Colossal. 

And underneath, Reiner’s inscription. 

fuck. 

He flips forward a few pages to find the Thank You Scene marked as well, his handwriting on the side. 

Eren: I’ll wrap that scarf around you, as many times as you want. 

And Bertholdt’s commentary. 

yall fucking? 

Eren snorts as he closes up the script, giving the two of them a smile, as Historia and Marco plant a gift in his lap next, skillfully packed in wrapping paper with his face on it. 

“I’m not sure if I should ruin something so perfect. I just look so good here-” 

“Eren. You’re a five on a good day.” Ymir responds, unbothered to look up from the game of soccer she was watching on the screen. 

Eren frowns as he opens up the gift, a glass showcase filled with polaroids. The first is a framed picture, one of the first of the entire cast. Underneath, Historia’s handwriting is inscribed, loopy letters spelling out Long Live. Eren smiles as he sets it to the side, observing Marco's gift. A Maya Angelou poetry book.

Eren gives the group of them a smile as he scans his eyes around the room, noticing the only face missing. The only one he was looking forward to seeing. Marco grabs his hand and drags him up the staircase, as he whispers over his shoulder. 

“She left a while ago to set up her gift for you. She should be in your room I think.” 

Eren’s nearly sprinting up the staircase as he pushes open the door, a defeated sigh leaving his lips when he stumbles in. There’s a half wrapped gift on the bed next to you, where you’re face down and fast asleep. He can see that you’re still in your party clothes - the dress and birthday hat still stuck to your head - as you nearly drool onto his sheets. 

“Nonsense, Eren. We’ll just wake her up, she was really excited to-” 

“No.” Eren responds. 

Marco swallows hard as he looks over at Eren, jaw half clenched and eyes narrowed down as he moves around him, shutting the door behind him. Eren carefully yanks the party hat and the shoes off your feet as he tucks you into the sheet properly, the tears burning his eyes. 

He takes the halfpacked gift and note from the bed, shutting the light off, as he escapes into your room to open them. To take a second, to calm whatever burning, irritating sensation is ripping his chest right now. 

The gift is a vinyl, the cover art is the same as the tattoos that you guys got together nearly two years ago. There’s a note inscribed on the front, your messy handwriting on the front. 

Eren. Our music is the best music. Here’s to many more to come :D 

He turns the vinyl over to find one song on each side - New Year’s Day on the front and Invisible String on the back. There’s a list of untitled listed underneath them, clearly meant to be future songs you and Eren write together. 

And all Eren can feel is despair. The gross, disgusting feeling that sits in his chest and never goes away is going to drag you down too. 

Isn’t it?

--

Nearly twenty four hours later and Eren’s standing on the other side of the red carpet, his palms sweaty and burning. He was supposed to walk out twenty minutes ago but his feet are glued to the foam, his throat dry. 

It always comes at the worst times. His birthday party, when he saw Zeke at Christmas, when he met Ricky James at the cocktail hour and then Gianna right after. 

Every little thing that’s been bothering Eren for the past day, the past few months is tumbling into this moment, where he’s staring at the red carpet and hearing the cameras flash behind the curtain but can’t summon his feet to move beyond them. 

Eren’s embarrassed. He’s ashamed. He’s trying. He’s trying to swallow it, trying to move his feet, to get out there to stand next to you. 

It’s humiliating. 

He feels a tap on his shoulder to find Armin at his side, readjusting the collar against his neck as he gives him a smile. 

“Hey.” 

“Hi Min.” 

“Can you do me a favor?” 

Eren tilts his head to the side as Armin gives him a smile, before turning his face back towards the curtain. 

“I hate walking on red carpets. But they’re easier when friends do them with me.” Armin responds. 

Eren sighs, a third person now catching on to him, as he stares at his shoelaces, evenly knotted against his leather shoes.

Is he that obvious? It's like it's written on his forehead.

“So, Eren?” 

“I-I don’t know if I can be a good friend right now, Armin. I think I should leave and-” 

“You’re the only friend I need. Just come on, okay? No one’s going to talk about Satellite Port, especially if I’m with you. They’re just going to try and wrangle spoilers out of you for the next season.” Armin responds, holding his hand out. 

Eren look down at his outstretched hand, blue eyes filled with such a vote of confidence that Eren agrees, stepping out into the flashing lights with Armin at his side, the two of them gaining a considerable amount of cheers as they walk out. 

Eren walks down with Armin, snapping a few pictures, before stopping to talk to a few of the interviewers, letting Armin carry the bulk of the weight as his mind spins in thirty different directions. About where he’s standing, if he should leave, how he’s a fraud and everything in between. 

Armin tugs him nearly all the way to the end as he pushes him into the auditorium, Eren’s chest heaving as he settles into his seat in between Hange and you, though your seat is still empty. 

“Eren. You okay?” 

Eren gives a halfhearted nod as Hange and Levi pinch their eyes in his direction, sharing a look, before leaning back in their chairs. Hange’s hand is squeezing his shoulder, which is all he tries to focus on as more people start piling in - cameras, lights, sounds getting brighter and brighter. 

Eren feels a tap on his shoulder to find you at his side now, a big smile on your face. 

“Oh my god. The interviewers out there were so fun.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I really liked them.” 

He feels you pull for his hand, nestling it under the pleats of your dress, obscured from the public view, as you squeeze his hand three times. Eren tries to ignore the pounding, burning, twisting happening in his mind as he focuses on the announcer, giving his opening monologue. He’s clearly doing a bit of crowd work as he’s walking around, pointing and poking fun at the stars around him. 

And Eren’s worst fear is self-actualized when he walks over to the two of you, his voice booming in his ears as the lights flash in his face. He can feel Hange’s grip on his shoulder tighten as he starts talking. 

“Here we have an international pop-star, Y/N L/N. Originally a small town girl from Canada, her soft spoken love songs, phenomenal acting, and insane dance act have left no heart untouched.” 

Eren looks over to find your cheeks pink, a big smile spread on your face. He can’t help but smile - thinking about you crying in your room after your first panels to be what you are now. 

“And you. What’s your name again? It’s sweet they let fans sit with stars now.” the headliner asks him, eliciting a large amount of laughter from the crowd as he walks on. 

Eren swallows hard, his eyes and throat burning as he sounds echoes in his ears. 

It’s funny. It’s just a joke. It’s a joke because it’s funny that no one knows who he is. It’s funny because he’s no one compared to you and-

“I’ll be right back. I have to use the bathroom.” Eren says, standing up and walking out. 

“Eren.”

He shakes your fingers off his wrist as he nearly springs out, loosening the tie around his throat and yanking the heavily starched collar around his neck. And it’s back. That sickening, sickening feeling in full flesh. The block in his chest, that’s stopping the breath from reaching his lungs - making his legs feel like lead, making every part of his brain feel heavy and his arms feel loose. 

Eren reaches for the closest room, an open bar playing a video of the ceremonies as he settles onto the bench, head pressed against the concrete as he murmurs out for a glass of water. 

Eren stays there - trying to feel the concrete cold against his forehead, his breath making his entire chest tremble, and his knuckles pressed white. He feels a hand on his shoulder, squeezing, and lifts his head expecting Hange. 

Instead, he finds an older man - nearly in his fifties with gray hair smiling down at him. 

“Eren. It’s nice to see you again.” 

Eren lifts his head, trying to rack his fried brain from where he knows him. 

“You know, Eren. We’ve been in the same room hundreds of times. Yet, we’ve barely talked for two minutes.” 

“Ss-sorry. I don’t mean to-” 

“You and I could be really helpful to each other.” 

He slides over his card, the name gleaming back at him as the memory comes back. Years ago, at that panel, where he met him the first time. Scott Clarkson, the Stone Studios producer. 

“If you want your reputation back, if you don’t want to be the butt of the joke anymore, if you want to be the one talked about next to her instead of Ricky James, you’d give the number a call. Instead of ripping it half on principle this time.” 

Eren watches him slide off the bench, a smile pressed on his face, as he turns his face back to the screen, watching you accept the Best Actress in a Drama Series Role. He looks back down at the card, the silver shine reflecting on his face. 

Eren tucks it into his pocket. And calls the next day. 

It's the worst mistake he makes.

--

next part

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[memories-of-ancients]

The Forgotten Mongol Heavy Cavalry,

When it comes to legends of the vicious Mongol conquests horse archers seem to be the celebrity rock stars of the Mongol Army who get all the fame and admiration. Depictions of Mongol battles in modern times usually show wild barbarian Mongol horse archers riding circles around enemy formations while showering them with volley after volley of arrows. Missing are the less glorified Mongol heavy cavalry, an absence which I’m sure would make the Great Khan sad because the Mongols had fine heavy cavalry. Not to put down horse archers, but horse archers alone don’t always win battles. While horse archers have their advantages, they also have several weakness and limitations, especially against opposing heavy infantry and cavalry equipped with shields and armor while in a defensive battle formation. What made the Mongols effective was not the mere fact they had horse archers, but because they had better tactics, among them combined arms tactics where they were able to coordinate the abilities of different units to accomplish a goal on the battlefield. This isn’t just a principle of Mongol warfare, but a principle of warfare in general. Whether we're talking ancient times or modern warfare, the side that has better combined arms tactics typically wins.  

The early Mongol Army consisted of 60% horse archers and 40% heavy cavalry. Later the Mongols would adopt new units such as heavy infantry, light infantry, siege units, and artillery conscripted from the peoples they conquered. However for this post I’m only referring to the early Mongol Army commanded by Genghis Khan and his general Subutai.  The purpose of the horse archers were as skirmishing units; to harass, sow chaos and confusion, and weaken the discipline of enemy ranks. The purpose of the heavy cavalry was to directly engage enemy units in close combat. To do their job, Mongol heavy cavalry were heavily armed and armored, much more so than their horse archer counterparts. They were armored head to toe in lamellar armor composed of metal plates sewn together into a suit. Often this armor also covered the horse as well. 

Their primary arm was a lance used to conduct charges. For melee fighting they would carry swords or axes, and also maces for armored opponents. They would also probably carry a shield. Along with their horse archer counterparts, Mongol heavy cavalry also carried a bow in order to engage the enemy at a distance. In essence Mongol heavy cavalry were similar to Middle Eastern or Byzantine cataphracts and European mounted knights. 

On the battlefield, Mongol units typically fought in five ranks, the first three ranks composed of horse archers, the last two composed of heavy cavalry.  During a Mongol charge, the horse archers would close to around 50 - 100 yards and fire arrows while the heavy cavalry would protect them from counterattack by enemy cavalry. It should be noted that Mongol heavy cavalry were also armed with bows, so likewise would be firing on the enemy as well. After firing, the formation would turn around, resupply with arrows, and remount with fresh horses. They would then repeat the charge again and again until eventually the enemy would weaken, begin to panic, lose discipline, and perhaps break ranks.  At that point the heavy cavalry would swoop in and smash the enemy formation. The Mongols also used deceptive tactics which the heavy cavalry would be an essential part. One common tactic was the feigned retreat, where a Mongol unit would pretend to retreat in panic as if defeated. The enemy would in turn charge expecting to chase down and massacre a terrified enemy. To their horror, the Mongols would reform and counterattack, the heavy cavalry at the front to smash the disorganized enemy and the horse archers firing from the rear. Another tactic would be to use the horse archers to draw the enemy into an ambush, where the heavy cavalry would appear from a hidden position and conduct a surprise attack on the enemy flanks or rear.