#single father lance

[kyoobie]

This is based on a tweet I made about single dad lance and teacher Keith that kinda blew up :)

[milkystyx]

Y’all would hate hearing me talk about Lance McClain now that I actually know how to make a point

[dear-ao3]

Sorry i tried to scroll past but, i know nothing about f1 other than max verstappen is fast, my dad doesnt like lewis hamilton, fast car goes in a loop and sometimes expodes. Could you give me a crash course in f1 drama? Im very intrigued. Whats the tea as it were?

a terribly loaded question, but i will do my best. i’ve talked about some of the drama before like the red bull second seat and the chronicles of haas but allow me to briefly try my hand at explaining the nightmare that is the upcoming silly season

under the cut we go

silly season is when the drivers go through contract renewals, extensions and switches. usually it’s confined to the first half of the season (march-july) but it has been known to extend all the way to the last race of the season and they like to switch people around at random sometimes. driver contracts are complex, there’s a lot of money involved and basically You Are The Face Of The Team so if you have a shit season then you make the team look bad. but at the same time you could have a shit season because you have a shit car. it’s sticky stuff.

so. there are only twenty seats in formula 1. 10 teams. each team gets two drivers. (there’s also reserve drivers but we’re not going to get into that). who ends up with a contract is largely up to the teams, they can pull the contract out from under people they can also cut you mid season. they’ve done it before.

of the 20 drivers on the grid, 14 of them have contracts expiring at the end of the year. yes. 14. you see how this could get complicated.

so let’s meet the teams.

red bull racing. they came first this year (and last year) in the championship. like aggressively first. like they won the championship by over 350 points. they are definitely the team to beat. but if you end up with a seat at red bull, you do have to deal with max verstappen being your teammate and he won all but three of the races last year. he’s the golden boy. red bull are also notoriously silly when it comes to contracts and famously swap people mid season who aren’t performing.

mercedes. merc is home to 7 time world champion lewis hamilton and they have won the championship a great many times, though not since 2021. they are kind of in their flop arc and their car the last 2 years has been pretty garbage, but they have still made it work because they were able to come in second last year.

ferrari. god help the poor little meow meows with a ferrari contract. ferrari is a notoriously great team and they’re trying to get back to the top again but their strategy every single time has fallen short. to the point where their drivers are the ones doing the strategy in their cars while driving. they came in third last year and have been decently consistent at getting first in qualifying and then getting beat by max verstappen on race day.

mclaren. they’ve definitely worked their way up over recent years. they ended fourth last year and have had some championship wins before but not nearly as many as say merc and ferrari. their team ceo (owner? director?) is a little interesting and their car started out a pile of flaming hot garbage at the beginning of the year but they did manage to get their shit together.

aston martin. they are owned by canadian billionaire lawrence stroll, father of lance stroll (one of the drivers for the team). they’ve undergone several name changes over the recent years (force india, racing point, etc). they positively slayed at the start of the season and then one day they sucked. they finished fifth in the championship.

alpine. the frenchest french team. they’re (i think?) still partially owned by the french government. both of their drivers are french. (their drivers also hate eachother but we’ll get to that. just know they’re in the middle of a modern french civil war). they had the opportunity to have a good rookie driver (oscar piastri) this past year but in a thrilling twitter battle, he publically flamed the shit out of them and went to mclaren instead (and slayed). they're usually solidly middle of the pack. they ended sixth in the championship.

williams. williams has been one of the back of the grid teams for the last many years but they have finally started to get their shit together and don’t quite suck as much as they used to. all of the points this year were scored by only one driver though (except one but we’ll get there). they came in seventh.

alpha tauri. they are the sister team of red bull. so technically redbull owns both teams (meaning they can swap drivers between teams. they like doing this.) they’ve just kind of been There for awhile but they did slay towards the end of the season when one of their drivers led the race for several laps. basically tho, this team is the gateway to redbull. they came in eighth.

alpha romeo. recently renamed to stake f1 team (but sometimes they are going to be called kick sauber. this is a whole other drama post and i’m not getting into it). they’re also just kind of there. generally unproblematic. seems that really great drivers who get ixed out of a contract for a younger driver end up here or young drivers who are in their early years are here before they go to a better team. they ended ninth this year.

haas. oh haas. goofy team. they suck. point blank they suck. they keep loosing sponsors because they suck, they don’t win ever (one time they came first in qualifying last year). they cursed themselves in australia in 2018 by not tightening their tires and its been downhill ever since. they came 10th. their team principle got let go (fired?) who’s to say today.

so those are the teams. it is important to note that:

-there is a cost cap. each team is allowed to spend no more than 135m per year.

-not all cars are equal. some things are standard. they all undergo the same testing. but the cars are all very different. so you can be a good driver but stuck in a shitty car. which makes it impressive if you are doing well in a shitty car.

let’s meet our drivers!!!

starting with the guys who’s contract is not ending in 2024:

max verstappen. 3 time world champion. 26 years old. general beast on the track. he dominated the whole season. he’s currently racing for red bull and has a contract with them through 2028.

lewis hamilton. 7 time world champion. 39 years old. he drives for mercedes. he will not leave mercedes until he retires. he really really wants to win an 8th world championship and is willing to stick it out a few more years as long as merc still believes in him. his contract expires in 2025.

george russell. the other merc driver. 26 years old. hes aggressively british and says thinks like blimey unironically. walking meme. got his merc seat in 2022 right when they entered their flop arc by getting his tractor of a williams to finish second in qualifying in the middle of a rainstorm. his contract expires in 2025.

lando norris. mclaren driver. 24 years old. he has notably never won a race in his five years of formula one (mostly because right when his car finally was good enough max verstappen was 20 seconds ahead of anyone) but he is regarded as Very Good. he has only ever driven for mclaren. and even though there is another year left on his contract there is mass speculation that he will not renew his contract with mclaren after it expires and he may move up to one of the top teams (red bull, merc, ferrari) (tho i think he doesnt hate himself quite enough to go to ferrari). his contract expires in 2025.

oscar piastri. the other mclaren driver. 22 years old. this was his rookie season and he positively slayed. like people compared his rookie season to lewis hamiltons rookie season. he also had the positively funniest start to his rookie year because alpine announced that he would be driving for them (he had been their reserve driver and in the alpine academy) and he posted a tweet that basically said yeah thats false i never singed anything with you and im going to race with mclaren instead (he dodged a bullet) and then alpine tried and failed to sue him for $4m USD. he signed a contract extension with mclaren this year and his contract expires in 2026.

lance stroll. aston martin driver and son of the aston martin owner. hes doing ok, tho there was conspiracy that he wanted to quit and have a tennis career awhile ago. but basically since his dad owns the team it seems that hes guaranteed a seat for as long as he wants one.

so now. moving onto the good shit. the people who have contracts expiring in 2024. hold onto your hats people.

charles leclerc. (everyones favorite slutty little soup can). 26 years old. he is currently at ferrari and he has been since 2019. notably, he was given the longest contract in the history of ferrari after a stellar rookie season at sauber (renamed to alpha romeo, renamed to stake f1) where he got the tractor of a car consistently into the points. having the longest contract in the history of ferrari was a flex at the time, but now its likely how he will introduce himself at therapy sessions. ferrari have fucked this man left right and center up the ass with a plastic lunchroom spork. hes talented, he can drive, and he can drive well. but the strategy that ferrari has absolutely sucks. either something is wrong with the car (see him blowing out his gear box on the formation lap in monaco, his car completely crapping out and spinning into the barrier in brazil before the race even started) or they fuck up his pit stops or put him on the wrong tires and honestly its just frustrating. but will he leave??? likely not. you'd have to pry ferrari out of his cold dead hands and at this rate that might be where this is headed though there has been some minor speculation of him going to another team like merc or red bull, but merc doesnt have any open seats and red bull is a whole other dumpster fire of drama. ferrari are going to have to pay him a boatload of money to make him stay.

carlos sainz. the smooth operator. 29 years old. ferrari driver. previously carlos was at toro rosso (renamed to alpha tauri), renault (renamed to alpine), and mclaren before signing with ferrari. he has been at ferrari since 2021 and has voiced that he would like to stay with them for however long he can. there is speculation that lando might replace him at ferrari (but landos contract is not up until 2025) and there is also some speculation that alex albon might replace him. while charles is clearly the golden boy at ferrari, carlos is slightly slower but also definitely consistent. he was THE ONLY non red bull driver to win a race this past year, in Singapore after max verstappedn was knocked out of qualifying by alpha tauri reserve driver liam lawson (more on him later) and because he basically came up with his own strategy in the car while he was driving.

sergio perez. aka checo. red bull driver. 33 years old. and oh boy here's where we open the can of worms. checo was previously at racing point (renamed aston martin) and it was very near the end of the 2020 (?) season and he was out of a contract. he had a bonkers race where he was knocked to the back of the grid and then overtook everyone and somehow ended up winning (there is more to that story but just trust me) and christian horner, red bull team principle, mr ginger spice and definite disney villain called him and said congrats sir you have a seat at red bull! well. fast forward. hes been causing problems. problems as in crashing a lot, generally not doing great and pissing the crap out of red bull. it is basically guaranteed at this point that he will not be getting a contract extension. there was actually talk this year of him losing his seat mid season to one of the alpha tauri drivers, because remember, red bull owns both teams and they can switch them whenever they want to (and they have!) but ultimately this did not happen. even though checo has a seat at red bull until the end of 2024, its mass speculated that he is going to get switched with an alpha tauri driver, probably daniel ricciardo (more on him shortly) mid season because there is a speculated clause in daniels contract that says that if checo isn't performing well in the first few races daniel is getting his seat.

daniel ricciardo. 34 years old. alpha tauri driver. man oh man what a guy. outside of being the prankster of the paddock, he has one of the most batshit careers of anyone currently on the grid. he started out at red bull and was showing real talent and skill and was on track to win things (and was!) and was there until the end of 2018 when max verstappen (his teammate) started getting preferential treatment and also red bull started having a lot of problems with their engines (which were being outsourced from Renault (now alpine) and another team on the grid) and well very very long story short he made the surprise move of the century and decided to sign with Renault (which makes no sense they're the one with the engine problems) and was there for 2 years before moving again to mclaren where he was reportedly not treated very well and had a hard time driving the car so they mutually ended his contract with them early and he basically retired at the end of the 2022 season and became a red bull reserve driver. then halfway through the 2023 season alpha tauri ixed one of their drivers, nyck de vries, because he wasnt doing well and promoted daniel back up to a full time driver at alpha tauri (which we know is only a step down from red bull) but then he broke his hand in a crash in zanvort (?) and then he was replaced for a few races by formula 2 driver liam lawson (who we will also talk about) and then he came back to finish out the season in alpha tauri after he was cleared. daniel has admitted openly that he never should have left red bull and he was given bad advice to do so. hes towards the end of his career at this point and its well known that he Really Really wants to finish out his career at red bull again. he and max have already been teammates before and they do work well together and daniel is great driver (see his comeback in texas (or maybe it was brazil?) this year). so. Pretty Sure that daniels going to get either an extension at alpha tauri or go up to red bull. thats what we all want. get this man in a red bull we need him there biblically.

liam lawson. now technically liam is not actually a formula 1 driver. hes a formula 2 driver, but he was daniels replacement for five races and there has been some speculation and some confirmed news about him so hes getting included. when he was racing for f1 he was at alpha tauri. hes 21 and looks like he belongs in the movie grease. no one was expecting him to slay in formula 1 and he positively knocked everyones socks off. the scene: Singapore. which, if you'll recall, is the one race that a not red bull driver won. this was largely because liam lawson slayed the absolute game in qualifying. the qualifying part of racing determines what order the cars start in on the grid for the race and theres three parts, the first two parts the bottom 5 drivers each time get knocked out and then the top 10 complete for the last 10 spots. liam lawson knocked BOTH max verstappen and checo perez out of qualifying in the second round by going very slightly faster than them, effectively fucking up red bulls race and allowing carlos to win. and he also scored points in that race, which no one was expecting. now thats all fine and dandy, but here's the speculation: hemlut marko (im pretty sure) (who is somehow decently involved in the decision making at red bull though i couldn't tell you how) said that he thinks that liam lawson will be in an f1 seat no later than 2025. meaning that he will probably get offered a contract this year. and hes already raced for alpha tauri. red bull have sunk a good amount of money into him. they clearly want him. so if he gets offered an alpha tauri seat in 2025, that means theres a good chance danny rics is going to red bull. do you SEE how the plot here is THICKENED

yuki tsunoda. age 23. currently at alpha tauri. and fun fact, the only alpha tauri driver to race there the whole year. he had three separate team mates. he is slaying and hes often slept on. he has a bit of a temper and likes to shout on the radio and also hates working out (they had to force him to move to italy or something to work out, long story) but hes been kinda killing it. he led several laps in the abu dhabi race this year and hes decently consistent. people think theres possibility that he could get moved up to red bull on account of the fact that he is younger than daniel and clearly has more years in him,, but there is also possibility that he might not because red bull like to make stupid decisions. and if he doesnt get moved up to rebel, will he stay with alpha tauri? we don't know.

alex albon. age 27. currently a williams driver. alex albon is another one with a batshit career. he started out his rookie year in 2019 at alpha tauri then got moved up to red bull halfway through the year when red bull decided that pierre gasley wasnt doing a good enough job (more on him later) and stayed with red bull for a solid year and a half until he lost his seat in 2021 to checo. he has been with williams for the last two years and is basically carrying the team. like. williams as a team scored 28 points this year. and alex albon scored 27 of those 28 points. and as we know, williams is still kind of in their shit arc (though they are doing much better. they didnt score any points for a solid 2 (?) years. so this is an improvement.) and if you can get a shit car to perform you catch the eye of bigger teams. now, alex has already been a red bull driver. and he was on the cusp of podiuming two separate times when lewis hamilton ran into him. this (among a few other things) basically killed his chances at getting resigned at red bull because he wasnt ""performing"" and red bull are bitches who love to win. but some people think that red bull should give him another shot. like daniel, hes already been max's teammate and he can definitely drive. but theres also talk he might go to ferrari because ferrari think that he might compliment charles's driving style (or something). but going to ferrari at this point is kind of suicide. so.

logan sergeant. age 23. the only american on the grid. the other williams driver. he just finished his rookie year. he scored a grand total of one single point this season, in texas, and it was because charles leclerc and lewis hamilton both got disqualified because the floor of their car had more wear (by literally less than millimeters) than it was allowed to, bumping him up from 12th to 10th. he has never done better than alex albon. he was also the very last driver to get a contract for 2024, with williams waiting until i think december of 2023 to announce his contract extension. clearly, hes on thin ice. but people have also said that he needs time to get used to formula 1 (other people have pointed out that oscar piastri slayed his rookie season this year and this statement about needing time is largely false). where logan ends up next year though will largely depend on how well the 2024 season goes for him.

fernando alonso. 42 years old. many people like to point out that oscar piastri is actually younger than fernando's racing career. he won tiktok creator of the year (somehow) and is also a 2 time world champion. he retired a few years ago, just to show back up again and slay. during the first half of the season when aston martin had a zoom zoom car he killed it, and then they had problems on top of problems and he didnt do well. except for that one race in brazil where he came in third, beating checo by literally .05 seconds. he hasn't really made any hints about retiring a second time and he is kind of carrying aston Martin right now (he scored 205 points this season, coming in 4th and tying in points with charles leclerc, lance stroll only scored 74 points this year.) and they did have their best year yet this year. (though they are relatively new).

pierre gasley. 27 years old. french. drives for alpine. the french team. previously he raced with toro rosso (now alpha tauri), then got promoted to a red bull driver in 2019, then halfway through the season they decided he wasnt doing a good enough job and he got demoted back down to alpha tauri. then he won a race with alpha tauri just to stick it to red bull. after the great oscar piastri contract twitter war, he was signed as alpines second driver, with Esteban ocon being the other driver (more on him soon). estie bestie and pierre (both french) were childhood friends and now hate each other for unknown reasons and basically feuded on the track for most of the season. french civil war at alpine. he scored 62 points in 2023 and came in 11th. not really sure where he will end up, it is possible that he will stick it out at alpine.

esteban ocon. 27 years old. also french. currently driving for alpine. another one with a silly bonkers career. he started out at force india and had a baller few seasons there but his teammate at the time was checo, and checo didnt really cooperate with him too much and caused some drama that cost estie bestie some places and some points. max verstappen also beat him up in the garage once. thats not really relevant but it did happen. anyway, after the owner of force india was arrested for .... i don't remember what maybe it was embezzlement or bankruptcy or something money related, the team was backed by lawrence stroll and became racing point. but all of that happened mid season and lawrence was basically like look ill back you guys for now but next year my son gets a seat (lance) so one of you two (checo and estie bestie) have to go. and ultimately they let estie bestie go even though he was more consistent because checo had more sponsors and they needed money. so he was out of formula 1 for a few years (but was a merc reserve driver) and then went to Renault, which then became alpine. he did come in 12th though overall this season, just behind pierre. so. will alpine keep both him and pierre and keep the civil war going? whos to say.

nico hulkenberg. 36 years old. haas driver. in his 200+ f1 races he has never been on the podium and he really really wants to be on the podium. unfortunately this will never happen in a haas because haas fucking sucks. and everyone knows it. he is getting towards the end of his career though. though! stake f1 will become the mario Andretti and audi team in 2026 (don't question it) and they have supposedly voiced interest in nico. so we will see if he hangs on that long to end up at audi. for now tough, hes definitely hating it at haas. though, haas are going to have a different team principle next year so maybe that will change things. i have a sneaky feeling through that haas will probably end up with another 2 rookie drivers because everyone else is smart enough to not race for them.

kevin magnussen. 31 years old. haas driver. hes another deeply interesting character. he has had one podium. in his rookie season. in his first race. and none since. kevin started at haas in 2017 and then left at then end of 2020 when he basically got kicked off because the team needed money and they wanted to bring in drivers with more sponsorships. these drivers were mick schumacher and nikita mazepin. so kevin basically was forced to retire after the 2020 season. this went decently well for haas. until russia invaded ukraine right before the start of the 2022 season and, well, nikita was Russian and it was never distinctly proven that his dads company (who was sponsoring the team) wasnt also funding the invasion. so nikita got fired and they were literally like 2 weeks out from the start of the season, down a driver. who are you gonna call? kevin magnussen! and hes been back ever since. but hes clearly getting annoyed with haas. there was one great clip from this year where his car caught on fire and he kind of just stared into to, clearly hoping it would burn for a long time. so the likelihood of him extending his contract is looking slim.

valtteri bottas. 34 years old. currently a driver for stake f1 (alpha romeo, kick sauber, whatever you wanna call it). previously, he was a mercedes driver and notoriously helped lewis hamilton win a great many championships, until he lost his seat to george russell in 2022. there was a rather awkward part of the 2021 season where valtteri knew that he was out of a merc seat the following year and kind of just chose violence. he slayed. then he went to alpha romeo, grew a mullet and made a calendar of his ass. quite the glow up if you ask me. hes also very interested in cycling. honestly though, i have my own personal speculation that hes going to retire at the end of this year.

zhou guanyu. 24 years old. driver for stake f1 (alpha romeo/kick sauber, etc etc). hes doing alright. he just finished his second season, in his first season he was majorly out qualified by valtteri but this past season he managed to out qualify him a good 6 times. which is decently good for the tractor of a car hes driving. its possible that he could get a contract extension, but like logan, its probably going to depend on how the 2024 season goes for him.

and thats all the drivers. theres also a few others i didnt talk about, like some other f2 drivers who want seats and mick schumacher, who is currently a merc reserve driver, all of which could be contenders for f1 seats. but one things for sure. this is going to be the silliest fucking silly season.

feel free to add on and peer review me

[maplesyrupsainz]

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙i see u everywhere | 2023 grid˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pt1

pairing: 2023 f1 grid x nepo baby y/n prost reader (she/her)

genre: social media au

warnings: nepo baby spoiled girl tbh!!! her father is alain prost :-)

summary: in which she is famous for doing almost nothing and being best friends with f1 drivers

a/n: multiple parts tehe this is so fun tbh hope u enjoy i loved this request 😊

request!!!!: I would love a smau with reader who’s a nepo baby but is everyone’s fave nepo because she’s just living life aesthetically and the grid loves her and she’s hinting at a soft launch (idrc with which driver)

fc: gracie burns

my masterlist

part 1 • part 2 • part 3 •

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, lance_stroll, and 738,193 others

yourusername get u a man that looks at u the way charles looks at the puppy

view all 11,103 comments

user4 get u a girl tht looks like y/n. period

yourusername that too

charles_leclerc why you sharing private moments

yourusername it's just a dog

charles_leclerc this is why you are single y/n

danielricciardo no it's actually because she keeps rejecting lando's advances

landonorris even i wouldn't want a dog hater

yourusername can you all piss off my post the reason im single is because im a feminist

charles_leclerc you weren't a feminist on friday night lance has the texts to prove it

yourusername im blocking you

user5 SHE IS SO INSANELY GORGEOUS

user6 someone leak lance's texts from friday night

lilymhe

liked by yourusername, alex_albon, and 523,182 others

lilymhe can you tell my girl came to visit

tagged: yourusername

view all 6,819 comments

alex_albon oh so this is why my girlfriend hasnt text me back

yourusername my bad

alex_albon someone please wife her up

danielricciardo @.landonorris that's ur cue mate

landonorris she keeps rejecting me don't rub it in i beg

lilymhe shut up everyone me & y/n are trying to make out i mean hang out

user7 i love them

user8 oh to be y/n prost

user9 does anyone else lowkey ship y/n & lando

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, 909,783 others

yourusername visiting my second fav ferrari driver in his home cuntry

view all 14,193 comments

charles_leclerc ❤️❤️❤️

landonorris put some clothes on y/n!

danielricciardo jealousy jealousy

user10 omg lando is down bad for her

carlossainz55 second favourite??? huh this is not what you were saying last night

yourusername WHAT??!

landonorris ????

lance_stroll carlos sainz u dirty dog

carlossainz55 what!!! it was because i cooked her favourite dish

user11 omg i screamed at this...

user12 there r two types of ppl: y/n x lando shippers or y/n x carlos shippers

user13 no im a secret third thing.. a y/n x charles shipper

user14 why is it crickets for y/n x lance????

user15 y/n x daniel found dead

twitter ->

instagram ->

lance_stroll posted a story

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, and 827,102 others

danielricciardo pls invite me next time

user16 ugh i love her

user17 she is the prettiest girl in the world

landonorris put in a good word for me

user18 how does she do it fr

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by lance_stroll, georgerussell63, and 698,293 others

yourusername girls girls girls

tagged: yourbff, lilymhe

view all 7,830 comments

lilymhe hot moms hot moms hot moms

yourbff u cant say we're moms ppl will think ur pregnant lily

yourusername no it's me😊 im a mother to the entire grid

user22 Omg not y/n calling the grid children

yukitsunoda0511 hi y/n

landonorris heyyy

danielricciardo what's up?

charles_leclerc hello y/n/n

yourbff wtf why is everyone down bad for you

yourusername they just want attention

user23 the comments 💀 so real

user24 who wants y/n more me or every single f1 driver

landonorris posted a story

liked by yourbff, oscarpiastri, and 385,231 others

user25 URMMM LANDO?

user26 GET A JOB STAY AWAY FROM HER

lilymhe dating rumours in 3, 2,...

landonorris delusional if anyone thinks i could pull y/n

yourbff how badly do u want her

landonorris no comments

user27 in my mind u & y/n have been together for 5 years and u got married recently

yourusername

liked by lilymhe, taylorswift, and 1021,183 others

yourusername met u at the riiight time

view all 18,193 comments

user28 is that...... hear me out.... lando norris?

lilymhe ❤️

yourbff 🧡

user29 THE HEARTS I CANT

user30 Y/N ARE YOU EFFING SOFT LAUNCHING RIGHT NOW

user31 her soft launching after the undeniable gf material pic of her on lando's story yesterday???

danielricciardo aww y/n has a soft spot

yourusername not for you i dont

danielricciardo you have so much anger in you y/n

oscarpiastri i suggest therapy to her almost everyday

yourusername u ppl are so mean dont be surprised when im not around next season

landonorris dont make unfunny jokes y/n

user32 hmmmm 🧐

twitter ->

instagram ->

ynprostupdates

liked by user15, user34, and 39,293 others

ynprostupdates an instagram post from y/n today including what looks to be a soft launch picture, along with an instagram story posted by f1 mclaren driver lando norris last night has led to connections being made that the two are dating. this is 100% alleged with little further connections being made outside of flirty comments on y/n's social medias. other connections being made by fans include other f1 drivers charles leclerc, carlos sainz and oscar piastri. what are everyone's thoughts on y/n's potential new f1 man?

view all 11,193 comments

user37 LOL stop this madness!!!

user38 i rly think it's someone we wouldn't expect at all

user39 me too if they were trying to be subtle about it they wouldnt be posting stories & flirting like with lando, this feels like a distraction from the truth so they can fly under the radar !!

user40 y/n seems more like the grid mother atp

user41 i would love for it to be charles besties to lovers🥹🥹

user42 imagine it's someone random she barely interacts with like max or pierre

yourusername hahah all will be revealed in time my lovelies

ynprostupdates omg y/n🥹 leak to us!!

twitter ->

THE END 🤍

[marieracingteam]

A Flower to a Lilybug – ls.18

stepdad!Lance Stroll | series

word count: 1612

summary: The story of how Lance finally met Lily, or the story of how Lawrence became a flower before he became a grandpa.

Lily was just two years old when Lance met her mom, which meant that Lily wasn't really aware of all that was happening in her life.

She knew she had a mum and she knew, somewhere, she had a dad. Dad, however, was never around so she didn't really think much of him or his family, whom Lily had barely met. She also knew that mum had a mum and a dad who lived far away and she only saw once or twice a year and a few more times over the phone.

But that was pretty much all. For Lily, mum was her everything –and for the most part her only thing– for her whole short life.

That was until Lance came through.

Her mum and he had been talking for a whole year before she agreed to start calling their dates dates, but not before he met her daughter and she gave them their blessings.

Lance of course had accepted her pace, how could he not when he knew she was just protecting her daughter and herself after being betrayed by her last partner?

And because he knew how much she needed everything to be perfect, he tried extra hard to make everything perfect on that first day.

Maybe a little too hard.

He had spent long hours thinking about every single detail. He had even asked his father for help like he tended to do.

Maybe that is why he was so nervous when he first met Lily. The now three years old, in response, got also shy, probably sensing the grown-ups expectations.

“Hello Lily. I am Lance, mom’s friend. Mom has told me a lot about you and I wanted to meet you” he said while offering the girl his hand.

“Hi you!” she squealed before running back into the living room where she was playing with some dolls.

However, the dinner had gone more smoothly. At least at first. Lance had relaxed enough to make conversation with the little girl and Lily had quickly forgotten that she didn't know him when he started to ask her about the things she loved.

He had thought about gifting something to the little girl, but his father had told him to not buy the girl with expensive gifts. So instead he had learned to do paper dolls like Lily's mum had told him she loved to do.

Lily was so close to liking him when her mum started to breathe strangely.

“Peanuts” she screamed, grabbing her neck and making Lance run to where she always kept an EpiPen in her bag.

If he hadn't been so worried about the woman swelling up in his backseat, he would have probably been stressed about the crying little girl he had left with his father at home.

Because he loved his father, he truly loved the old men, but he could be scary and he knew he was bringing down his chances of winning the little girl’s heart by the second.

“Sorry, love. The bakery must have mix up the cakes. I don't know how that happened. I am so sorry. I told the man a thousand times to not put any nuts” Lance said again and again while he ran to the hospital.

The woman just laughed at the situation and when Lance looked at her through the rearview she was smiling. He didn't know then, but that was the first time someone had cared so much about her and her daughter.

And Lance didn't have anything to worry about, because back at home his father was doing all the hard work with Lily.

“So…” Lawrence said looking at the little girl who was sitting on the sofa eating ice cream “I heard you like doing paper dolls”

“Yeah” she answered, licking the spoon clean “And you?”

“Not my expertise, but I can see the charm in it”

Lily just looked up at him. When she had calmed down after the old man explained to her that her mom was fine but she needed a bandaid to be perfect, the girl had started to analyze the man.

Her mum had told her beforehand all about her friend and the get-together they were going to have that night, but she didn't expect any of that. Her mother had forgotten to tell her that after dessert they would run out and leave her alone at home with an unknown man.

Lily knew she was just a little girl, but wasn't that what her mother had told her not to do?

“You are weird, Flower” the girl finally said after deciding that she could trust the strange man with the funny name. If her mother trusted him enough to leave her in his care, who was she to not do it?

“Why is that?” Lawrence asked sitting beside her on the couch. 

The girl just shrugged her shoulders. Her mother had taught her that it was wrong to say those things to people, especially older ones. The previous comment had slipped out of her mouth.

In her defense, Lily would say that Lance's dad was strange indeed. Lance too. Her mother's friend had sweaty hands and had dropped his spoon more times than she had. Plus, mom's friend's face turned red all the time. All the times her mom spoke at least.

But Lance's dad was even weirder. All his hair was white, all. Plus he was the oldest person Lily had ever seen, even older than Mom's friend from work who had just turned 40 recently and invited them to her party. The man was tall and was wearing a suit like on TV. Lily had never seen anyone on the streets of her town in Canada wearing one of those outfits beyond the movies.

Plus, Lance's dad had let her eat the ice cream straight out of the container to stop her from crying, which was weird, because her mom never let her do that. But she wasn't going to complain.

“And what is that Flower thing?” Lawrence asked finally.

“Your name, duh” Lily responded with the spoon still in her mouth.

See? Weird. The man had just said that was his name.

“My name is Lawrence” the man corrected.

“Florence,” she said back before making the connection “flower”.

The man laughed a deep laugh that reminded Lily of movie villains. And he looked like one. If he didn't have such a funny name, Lily probably would have been scared of him. “I am not a flower”

“You look like one” the girl responded, sure of her opinion.

“Why is that?” the man pressed, amused at the conversation.

“The white petals” she said pointing at his hair “Do you know how to braid?”

Lawrence laughed again. Lance had told him a lot about the woman he was meeting and had told him some things he was discovering about her daughter, but Lawrence did not expect the pleasant surprise that was meeting first the mother at a gala and then the girl, even if it was under those circumstances.

The mother was polite and affectionate with his son. Lawrence had been doubtful of her at first, as he always used to be when someone new came into their lifes. But at no time had she shown interest or asked for anything in exchange of her company like other used to do. If Lawrence was right, and he usually was, the only reason she was still with Lance was because she was really interested in his son.

And the girl. The girl had been a breath of fresh air.

It had been a long time since Lawrence last was around small children. His children were already grown and despite his insistence, his daughter had not yet made him a grandfather.

Even if the girl wasn't exactly Lance's, if everything went as his son expected that night, this wouldn't be the last time Lawrence would see the girl.

And, at that moment, he felt like it was in his power to help make everything happen that way, even if he himself had shown him his reluctance when he found out that the woman his son was with already had a daughter from a previous relationship.

“Yeah, I do. Do you want one braid?” he offered.

“No” she said still licking the empty spoon.

“Lance also knows how to braid. He is very good at it” lied the man. He didn't truly know why he was doing it but he guessed that he will need the extra help impressing the little girl after almost poisining her mom.

While waiting for her mom to come back, Lily decided the man wasn’t that bad anymore. And he was a flower after all. A flower who had ended up braiding her hair into smalls braids and had cut the paper dolls Lance had brought for her. 

He was still a little weird and a little scary looking but he wasn't that bad.

And he was comfy. She had found that when she laid her braided head in his chest while playing with the dolls. 

And! When her mom asks her tomorrow when she wakeds up on her own bed surrounded by all her plushies, she will say that the flower was a magician. Which was a pretty impressive story.

Even when she had swore she wasn't going to fall asleep until her mom came back, the flower had charm her into sleeping while rubbing her belly, like she did with her mom's friend's puppy.

She may not know a lot about old people or grandparents but the flower wasn't that bad himself. And maybe his son wasn't so bad either.

[maxi---taxi]

Im reading Lance Stroll fics rn.... Every single fic is the same. reader posts a pic of her living luxury>"fans" start hating on her, calling her a gold digger and a slut>lance/reader have a text abt it>then one of the two put out a "shut up the haters" post>then it ends

no hate, the writing is good, but ya'll reek of no creativity (at least in the Lance tag)

can ya'll come up with a new plot?? or is that the only thing about Lance that you can think of. The lance x reader tag is full of copy/paste SMAU's

again, no hate, i genuinely think the writing is good, i'm just sick and tired of ya'll writing Lance with the "daddy's money", "he's a rich boy", "he bought his way into f1" plot line. Even though his father did buy lance's way into Astin Martin, he still has skill. New writing challenge: write a Lance Stroll fic and don't even mention money. No money talk, no gold digger talk. Write something that portrays him as an actual, caring, loving. boyfriend. Make it angst, fluff, smut, idgaf. Just keep money out of it

[gen4grl]

my johto timeskip designs + bios/teams below!

i think about this group ALOT!!! if i had any confidence in writing i would easily share the whole hgss rewrite i have in my head but alas… just take my drawings instead! i like to give characters more “realistic” outfits… not really a modern au? i love to imagine the pokemon world with all our worlds pop culture which inspires my designs! long post but enjoy!!! ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

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lyra + 20. champion ranked trainer

♡ Raised by her single mother, aunt and older cousin Kris in the small New Bark home. Her father died when she was 6 in a mining incident involving Team Rocket. Bubbles, her ace Azumarill, was gifted to Lyra by her father on her 5th birthday - being her final gift from him.

♡ Extremely outgoing, sweetly optimistic and immensely empathic. Absolutley loves making friends and talking to every kind of person. However, is extremely competitive & stubbon and gets frustrated easily - resulting in her giving up quickly but is also extremely quick to be re-motivated. Often feels the emotions of others intensely. Very country girl with an extremely strong Johtoian accent and lisp. Loves 'girly' things like makeup + fashion, period dramas and collecting nick-nacks but also loves spending her days outdoors, espcially in the National Park with Ethan watching the bug-catching contests or the Safari Zone.

♡ Struggled with her battle confidence as a young trainer which resulted in her having to re-battle Falkner and Bugsy several times. Over her journey grew an appreciation for pokemon perceived to be 'weak' & cute and built her team around showing the powers of these types of pokemon. Despite being a Champion Ranked trainer, Lyra opted to work with Ethans grandparents at the daycare center where she specialises in pokemon breeding and training weaker pokemon + their trainers.

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silver + 23. champion ranked trainer

♡ Only child of Rocket Boss, Giovanni. Was born and raised on Island 5 of the Sevii Islands by multiple admins, most commonly Archer before running away to Johto. Has a deep rooted and consistent fear that he’ll never amount to anything but “Giovanni's kid”. Was extremely tight lipped about his upbringing to the trio, especially after learning of his loose connection to Lyras father’s passing. Finally told them the truth of his family after the defeat and final disbandment of Team Rocket.

♡ Originally extremely standoffish, condescending and at times, aggressive. As an adult is still quite serious and independent, but genuinely enjoys the time he spends with his friends and is surprisingly protective of them - especially Lyra and Kris. As time passed, his anger towards his father evolved more into guilt, however, over the years has become more patient, gentle and forgiving with not only others but himself. He still can come off quite intimidating to strangers, but these changes are noticeably visible to those close to him. While usually a quiet person, has a very dry and witty sense of humour that takes most people by surprise.

♡ Mentored by Lance, and later Blue, and spends a large amount of time training in the Dragons Den. While unsure of what direction he wants his life to go into, Lance is adamant he would make a fantastic gym leader or elite four member. Always accompanies Lyra to the yearly Champion Balls and Alola trips. Currently lives in a small beachside bungalow with Lyra in Cherrygrove where he enjoys spending his free time reading and teaching himself guitar.

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ethan + 21

♡ The childhood friend of Lyra, Ethan was raised by his father and grandparents in New Bark. Extremely courteous, friend & family oriented and easy to talk to. A natural comic and can make even the straightest face people crack a slight smile - Red being his proudest achievement. Lax and slightly ditsy but can adapt to any situation and group of people like a flick of a switch. Not the best at articulating himself but always puts 110% into making sure people feel comfortable through his actions.

♡ Completed the 8 Johto gyms but never challenged the Elite Four & Lance in favour for persuing his true passions. Currently works at the Goldenrod Radio Tower where he co-hosts a program consisting of interviewing gym leaders, elite four, champions and other prolific battlers. At nights, does standup in the clubs in the Goldenrod Tunnel. Due to his easy-going nature and career, tends to knows everyone’s buisness + gossip and has crazy experiences with nearly any person imaginable.

♡ Currently lives in a small loft in Goldenrod. Spends his free time watching anime + cartoons or in the National Park either watching the Bug Contests, skating or talking to the old folks. Enjoys the nightlife of Goldenrod where he usually pulls Silver out to bar hop or spend hours playing Voltorb Flip.

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kris + 25

♡ Oldest and mother figure of the group. Was born and grew up in New Bark town with her mother before her cousin Lyra + aunt moved in with them when she was 11. The two shared the large upstairs bedroom growing up where Kris introduced Lyra to contests and the annual Champion & Wallace cups.

♡ Mature, soft spoken and extremely intellegent - both academically and socially. Because of this, can offer solutions on any issue on both a practical and emotional level, no matter the person and situation. Has unique relationships with all three kids but in general sees them as her younger siblings and takes the role as the 'older sister' very seriously. Has a warm and comforting presence, making those even to the likes of Silver feel comfortable confinding in her.

♡ Quite reserved and struggled with her purpose and sexuality growing up, espcially in rural Johto. After the death of her uncle and seeing her daughter’s interests in the Wallace Cups and contests, her mother moved the two to the Hoenn region, settling in Lilycove City when Kris was 13. While starting her gym challenge in the new region, Kris fell in love with Hoenn's unique weather patterns and ecosystems. Eventually she quit the gym challenge to peruse a career as a meteorologist where she now works at the weather institute. When not working, she enjoys attending contests, museums and scuba diving. Finally feeling settled in life, she came out to her family + the trio when she was 20.

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[seneon]

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

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

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

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

★ little raynes and mashle shenanigans

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

© SENEON 2024 ♰ do not repost, alter, or translate.

[danieldrivesfast]

Continuing the educational series nobody asked for, let's talk about the difference between "hating" and "criticism based on facts/observation."

Example 1:

"Logan Sargeant isn't going to be long for Formula 1. Williams gave him a second chance, but he hasn't shown enough improvement and isn't making any real progress. I think he's going to have a long racing career in another series, maybe IndyCar, and I hope he does well for himself."

vs.

"Logan is wasting that seat. He absolutely sucks and JV should've kicked him out for Kimi/whoever. Fucking loser is P20 every week and can't score points unless everyone else explodes."

Example 2:

"Daniel Ricciardo should really be qualifying better. I don't know how he's going to keep his seat for next season if he's behind Yuki and the CEO of his team is saying the investors want someone younger. I think he's doing well and has helped the team a lot, but his circumstances and situation are awful right now."

vs.

"Ricciardo is washed. I hope he's replaced by Liam for the rest of the season. He's only around because he's Horner's baby and he smiles at the camera for money. He's a shitty person and if you support him you're an idiot and a racist."

Example 3:

"Lance Stroll's father bought a race team for him to make sure he always has a seat, regardless of his results/skill. The way he speaks to and has physically gone after his team isn't okay. The other drivers don't really seem to like/interact with him much and it's a shame he tries to skip out on fan stuff."

vs.

"[Ableist slur.] [Insult based on perceived disability.] I hope that nepo baby crashes and breaks his wrists again. His dad is a [Epstein reference]."

Do we see the difference?

Part of sports, or being a fan of anything, is being objective. You're not less of a fan if you acknowledge the shortcomings or issues of the people/things you support. I'd argue it makes you a more well-rounded fan and is better for the sport/athlete in the long run. To get very personal, I have a friendly acquaintance who was a professional athlete for a long time, and they would come to me for an objective opinion about things they were going through in their sport. You can be the biggest cheerleader while still understanding that not every single thing they do will be perfect or at the highest level.

I got some hate for being objective about Daniel's seat situation for next season, because people automatically assume anything that isn't blind positivity is "hating." I would lay down in front of a train for that man and fistfight whoever says he doesn't have the skill to compete anymore. But I can also understand his situation and acknowledge that factors mostly out of his control could likely screw him right out of F1. That doesn't make me less of a fan, it doesn't mean I'm not supporting him and hoping for the best, and I certainly don't hate him. As an example.

So, before you start raging and telling someone they're hating, or a racist, or a dumb cunt, or should go jump off a cliff, try to take a step back and actually process what they're saying. Ask questions, even. Offer a polite counterpoint. I know it's not always easy, trust me, but the leap to STUPID HATER from casual/factual observation is very silly. Everybody might even learn something new.

Of course, if someone is actually being cruel and/or hating for hating's sake, unleash those "dumb cunts." Just make sure first!

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Tiger Club (part 2)

Steddie || ~1.6k words || rating: M || tags: single-dad steve harrington, teacher eddie munson, teacher chrissy cunningham, eddie and chrissy are best friends, steve harrington is dustin and max's dad, dustin and max are twins, meet cute, humor and fluff

Part 1 || Part 2 (you are here!) || Part 3 || ao3

~~~

Weeks go by, and Eddie always seems to miss Steve’s pick up days. Chrissy’s only seen him a few times, but both her and Eddie have been privileged with the presence of almost every other adult family member in the twins’ lives.

Aunt Robin picks them up most days. She always feigns exasperation at Dustin’s boundless energy and Max’s sassy jokes, but laughs every time they tackle her to the ground. Eddie was surprised to find out she actually lives with the kids and their mysterious father. He considered asking her more about the situation, but decided it wasn’t his business. 

However, he did find out from Chrissy that Robin and Steve went to the same high school but ran in different crowds. The two reconnected working at Hawkins Hospital, Robin as an interpreter and Steve as a paramedic. They bonded over a particularly difficult patient who’d come in through Emergency and didn’t want someone like Robin working with him, not realizing– as Robin had joked– that Steve was someone like Robin too. 

The more Eddie learns about the duo, the more it reminds him of his relationship with Chrissy. It’s at least a small comfort to know they’re not alone in this backwards town.

Aunt Nancy and Uncle Jonathan are the next most frequent visitors. He learned Nancy is a journalist at the Hawkins Post, but is looking to get hired working remotely at a bigger paper like The Chicago Times or Indianapolis Journal. Jonathan is a free-lance photographer, sometimes working for Nancy or the Post, but mostly shoots weddings and family photos. They seem nice enough, although he once caught Jonathan checking him out in the same way Robin had, glancing between Eddie and his own wife with a smirk on his face. 

The nerve of these people checking him out, leaving him flushed and spluttering when they aren’t even interested.

Hell, he even got to meet Dustin and Max’s grandparents before meeting their mysterious and elusive dad.

“Munson,” Jim Hopper, Hawkins Chief of Police, the twins’ adopted grandfather, scowled at him. He looked about the same as the last time Eddie had seen him, maybe a few more greys in his mustache and lines around his eyes. Easier to see the fine details when Eddie’s not cuffed in the backseat making faces at him in the rearview mirror.

Jesus Christ, is he lucky Hopper only ever brought him back home to Wayne for dealing instead of throwing him in a jail cell for the weekend. Eddie was twenty the last time the Chief picked him up, almost a decade ago now. He practically tossed Eddie in the backseat, drove them both out to the quarry, sat him down, handed him a beer, and explained in fine detail the differences between being a juvenile delinquent and an actual felon. Needless to say Eddie quit dealing and decided his calling was more educational.

“Oh Hop, leave the poor boy alone.” The small woman next to them playfully back-hands the Chief’s beer belly to get him to back off. “I’m Joyce, the kids’ grandma. And you must be Mr. Munson! We’ve heard so much about you.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Hopper,” he says, unsure of how to navigate this extremely awkward interaction. The Chief’s stern glare hasn’t left Eddie’s face since he stepped out of the car. “I, uhh, wasn’t aware that you had family, Chief?”

The man grunts, but uncrosses his arms, shoving one hand in his front pocket and wrapping the other around his wife. “Steve’s not my son, but I’ve been looking after that boy since I picked him up for his first speeding ticket. Just a few years before the kids, back when he was dating Nancy.”

“Wait, wait, wait a second,” Eddie interrupts, shocked “Nancy, as in Auntie Nancy and Uncle Jonathan?”

“Jonathan’s my boy,” Joyce answers Eddie’s slack-jawed confusion. “Nancy and Jonathan met just after her and Steve broke up, but they’re all still good friends, obviously.”

“Yeah, obviously.” Eddie zones out a bit, trying to connect the dots in the tangled web of Max and Dustin Harrington’s family life. “Wait, wouldn’t that make Steve my age? And if you raised him–” he points to Hopper accusingly– “then that means he went to school here. With me. So why don’t I know him?”

But Hopper’s already shaking his head. “Kid went to the private school two towns over. Parents have an estate on the opposite side of town from Forest Hills, just barely inside my jurisdiction. I’m not surprised you two didn’t cross paths, he was only ever here for sports, which–” he gestures at Eddie’s everything, and yeah, Eddie gets it. But an estate?

This is the most information he’s been able to dig up so far. He looks back to the playground where Chrissy is still trying to rally the twins’ spilled bags. It’s an opportunity Eddie refuses to pass on.

“And the twins?” He turns back and just catches the end of a silent conversation between the couple, eyeing each other while glancing at Eddie. They stop when they notice him watching, and Hop sighs.

“Dustin and Max came around just after his senior year. The kid was set up for a full-ride to Indy on a swim scholarship his dad paid for. The mom was a girl he met at a party, and he didn’t see her again until she dropped them off on his doorstep. Parents kicked him out, then I took them in. Same week I picked you up for the last time,” Hop adds on with a laugh, like this entire conversation is chock full of cosmic coincidence. “What a hell of a week.”

Eddie tumbles the new information in his head over and over throughout the next few days. He feels himself growing bitter that someone like Steve Harrington exists. Someone who sounds too good to be true. Fake, like the many charming princes and noble knights he’s woven into his campaigns over the years. Except it’s hard to deny when it’s not just the kids, and Auntie Robin, Uncle Jonathan and Aunt Nancy, or hell, even the grandparents. 

It’s Chrissy. Every time Chrissy gets to talk to Steve, she raves about him until Eddie starts fake gagging just to get her to stop. She typically rolls her eyes, but he’s sick of hearing about how great this guy is and at this point, he’s not even sure if he wants to meet him. No one’s this great.

“Don’t you think it’s weird,” Eddie rants, like he has been for the past ten minutes, “that he can’t even be bothered to pick up his own children? And it’s like you’ve said, Chris, even when he does pick them up he’s always late! What kind of father is that, really?”

He’s halfway through his second margarita, and he’s lost track of the conversation entirely, not sure how they transitioned from Chrissy’s hinge matches to Steve fucking Harrington. Again.

Chrissy frowns at him, and yeah, he might’ve went a bit too far there. Maybe he’s a little sensitive about topics revolving around bad dads.

“Just because you’re hungry doesn’t mean you get to be a dick, Eddie,” she shoots back, pushing the basket of chips closer to him as they wait for their food. “It’s not my fault you decided to switch to detention yesterday and missed him because you were cold. I told you it was going to be chilly out and you still didn’t wear a jacket.”

“I was wearing a jacket, Chris,” he pouts.

“An actual, warm jacket. Not that threadbare, leather monstrosity you got from Goodwill for ten dollars. Just because you cover the holes with patches doesn’t mean the holes aren’t there.” 

He lets out an undignified shriek, but she continues on to the actual conversation, used to ignoring his dramatics. “You know it’s not the same as with your dad, or mine. Steve really is a great guy, even if you refuse to admit it. I think you’re just jealous you haven’t met him yet.”

“Of course I want to meet him,” he snaps back, but Chrissy just grins in response. “I have to listen to everyone talk about how great he is, and I’m just supposed to believe it all on face-value? Honestly, I’m sick of hearing about him, and if we keep talking about this it’s gonna ruin my buzz.”

Eddie refuses to believe a former trust-fund kid who hosted parties at his estate just to act like a fuck-boy actually leveled up to become a loving single father who’s adored by his family and friends, saves literal lives every day, and is one of the only queer people in this god forsaken town. 

Not that he spends his free time thinking about a random guy he’s gathered enough general information on to build a well-rounded NPC. A disowned nobleman cast out from his kingdom into squalor. With the help of the lonely prince’s new found family, he redeems himself by serving as Hawkins’ most beloved Paladin. 

Again, not that he’s actually building this character for next year’s campaign or anything, it just goes to show how much people won’t stop bragging about this guy, and Eddie’s over it.

“You’d really like him,” Chrissy says, putting an end to his stewing. She’s smiling like maybe she knows something he doesn’t, and it reminds him of the same smiles he’s gotten from Robin and Nanna Joyce.

“Yeah, well I’d actually have to meet him to like him.”

[monstersandmaw]

Male orc (Rhuarc) x female character - Part One (sfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Thank you to the two people who explicitly expressed interest in this story via my inbox. This one's for you. Here's Rhuarc the single dad orc and his girl, and how they met. I've even got some visuals in this one too!

Content: kidnapping, attempted human sacrifice, violence, some light gore, implied age gap, older male character, single father orc x small human female

Wordcount: 4344

Rhuarc tried not to resent the fact that the Jarl of Markarth’s crusty old steward had looked him up and down as he’d stood in front of the so-called Mournful Throne, and decided that the orc was either entirely expendable or utterly stupid enough to take on an entire Forsworn camp. By himself.

Apparently it was the latter though, because with his two adopted girls waiting for his return in Whiterun, Rhuarc was most certainly not expendable these days. Perhaps twenty years ago, he might have hurled himself at the nearest frothing lunatic disrupting trade routes and abducting travellers off the roads without much care for the damage he took — the fact that he’d lost the sight in his right eye before he’d turned nineteen was testament to that — but these days, his contracts required thought and planning.

Kill the leader of Hag’s End, an old Nordic tomb complex nestled away in the frozen mountains to the northeast of Markarth.

Easy.

By himself.

Less easy.

The place was huge, and crawling with more Forsworn than termites in a mound, and there was every chance he would encounter a hagraven there too. Fuck, he hated those things. Whatever unnatural magic was used to create those half-bird, half-women, he didn’t want any part of it.

His own magic was fairly rudimentary by the standards of the average mage: a few fireballs here, a few healing spells there, and he could make a pretty decent lance out of ice if he had to. After all, orcs were known primarily for how ferociously they could bludgeon something into Oblivion, but magicka did coil its way through some of them too, and his mother had been both an alchemist and a mage.

Now though, as Rhuarc crept up behind the Briarheart warrior who led this bunch of rabid lunatics, and slipped his arm around the man’s throat to hold him still while he ripped the strange replacement heart out of the half-undead creature’s chest, he wondered exactly what kind of magic these people used that let them replace an otherwise healthy man’s beating heart with the poisoned seed of a Briarheart tree. And what special kind of lunacy allowed someone to undergo it willingly. Perhaps it wasn’t willing though? What did he know about these people?

As the orc’s fingers curled around the prickly seed that was about the size of an apple, the magic of it felt at once too cold and too hot; the way white hot metal feels in that moment of pure shock if you touch it by accident before the pain kicks in. He released the disgusting ‘heart’ and it fell with a splatter of gore onto the snowy carpet covering the cosy little platform, from where the man ruled over his clan of Forsworn. Rhuarc would have to find a scrap of cloth to wrap it in so that it didn’t leak everywhere between there and the city of Markarth, but he was looking forward to depositing it directly into the stuffy old steward’s lap as proof of the kill and the contract fulfilled.

The Briarheart warrior went instantly limp in his arms and Rhuarc laid him down silently on the frozen ground, already starting to plan his next move. A shout went up a second later from somewhere to his right — his blind side — and an arrow pinged off the bastion wall beside him. With a curse, he rolled and ducked behind the hide wall of the leader’s large tent, breathing hard. Of course he’d missed one of them, and if she alerted anyone else, or that lurking hagraven, Rhuarc was fucked. He was tired. And cold. His joints weren’t quite what they had once been, and his muscles were seizing with the cold and from crouching in dark doorways and corners on the long and winding way up to reach this part of the secret redoubt.

With a careful peek around the support structure of the leader’s tent, he realised that this new Forsworn hadn’t actually spotted him properly yet, and he hefted the haft of his war axe in his hand. Throwing a weapon away was never a great idea, but he didn’t have a bow on him, and if he called magicka to his hands, a hagraven would certainly sense it. Not a chance he wanted to take, and given that the place was called Hag’s End, he thought it pretty fucking likely that there was one of the bird-legged, psychotic matriarchs of the Forsworn roosting up at the top of the complex on that balcony almost directly above him.

So, he drew back his arm and sent the blade of his war axe whirling away to bite into the breastbone of the Forsworn before she could spot him or cry out again. She fell with the clatter and rattle of bone and fur armour, her silly antlered headdress skittering away behind her, and he was off running immediately to release the weapon from her corpse and seek a new hiding place in case the commotion had drawn others.

As it was, Rhuarc crouched for a long few minutes behind the gruesomely-displayed corpse of an elk that had been partly taxidermied by the cold and stuck on a stake, with his breath billowing all around him, and the stillness of snow in the air. Had he got them all? He was spattered all up one side of his body with blood and even had a red streak in his otherwise white hair that he’d shaved close to his skull above his ears and left long enough to tie back into a ponytail on top. What a mess. Still, it would be worth the groaning bag of coin he was going to get for clearing the whole bloody encampment and making The Reach a little bit safer for travellers.

Just as he’d begun to relax, half thinking of getting the girls each a new dress with his earnings, a scream like nothing he’d ever heard before tore the silence in two and his blood went cold.

It had come from the balcony above him where a spar of stonework jutted out into the winter sky like the bowsprit of a ship, and it hadn’t been the harsh shriek of a hagraven. The scream had come from a woman in blind, abject terror, and the sound of it shocked him back to his feet before he’d even realised it.

Rhuarc thundered up the stone stairs behind him and shouldered open the carved doors of the inner sanctum of the tomb, plunging into the relative darkness without stopping to think.

Not thinking was a sure way to get himself killed, and by some miracle of the fates, he skidded to a halt just in time to avoid a pressure plate in the floor that would no doubt have unleashed some kind of magical or poisoned trap on him. Whoever lived here clearly didn’t let just anyone inside, and blundering around like a panicked mammoth wasn’t going to help anyone.

“Think, you thick-skulled orc,” he growled at himself, chest heaving and heart pounding in his ears like a war-drum. He was only a few heartbeats away from slipping into that infamous, orcish berserker rage, and he never ever wanted to find himself on the far end of a state of mind like that again. Caked in blood and viscera and surrounded by an array of corpses with no memory of how they had been felled… He shuddered and forced himself to steady his breathing before moving on.

What he confronted as he wound his way carefully and methodically through the dark, blood-stained hallways of the upper Nordic tomb proved to be as great a test of his prowess with blade and his magic as any he’d ever faced in his forty-six years.

Savage witches clad in long, magicka-laced, black robes hurled spells and curses at him that he only just dodged or warded in time to sink his axe into their skulls, but what made his skin crawl the most was the hagraven who seemed to be taunting him, letting him get one or two shots in before a swirl of purple and black magic enveloped her and she vanished to somewhere else in the complex.

Was she an illusion? Had he lost his mind or, worse, accidentally imbibed some poison from one of his victims that was making him hallucinate? He’d spotted enough deadly mushrooms growing in the dank corners of the dungeon that the suspicion remained, even as he ploughed on through the coven of crazed witches towards the woman who had let out that heart-rending scream.

Just as he sensed he was gaining the top of the tower, the hagraven disappeared amid a final storm of eerie, flickering magicka, leaving him alone in an echoing chamber at the top of a staircase lined with mortuary shelves.

Over to his left, an arcane enchanting table crackled with residual magicka from a recent use, the blueish runes on its onyx surface glowing in the dim light, and on his right, an ancient monument reared up like a tombstone, carved with a script he couldn’t read. He had no time for any of that, and paused just long enough with his hand on the last door to gather his breath and the last ragged remains of his strength, before shoving all his weight into swinging them open and stepping out onto the snowy balcony beyond.

A blast of freezing air hit him full in the face, but it wasn’t the cold that stole his breath and his senses.

There on a low, wide, stone altar, a Nord woman had been bound hand and foot, stretched out and completely naked, and she was thrashing weakly despite the wounds at her wrists and ankles from the ropes. Tears tracked pale lines through the dirt on her face and her bare chest heaved with broken, choking sobs as she arched her back in futile protest.

Over her prone figure loomed the emaciated figure of a hagraven with a glinting, black dagger raised in her taloned hands.

Rhuarc didn’t think.

He hurled a bolt of ice at the creature, and might have been surprised to find that it had actually struck her right in the stomach if he hadn’t already been concentrating on drawing the ambient moisture into his hand to freeze into another shard of ice as thick as a tree limb. The hagraven let out a shriek that should have made his ears bleed, and hurled a fireball at him for the indignity of him getting a hit in first.

Searing flames exploded all around him and he smelled singeing, though he wasn’t sure if it was his fur armour or his own skin, and he didn’t care. He leapt forwards, diving into a roll in the snow to douse any lingering flames, and as he came up he launched a second spike of ice directly at the hagraven’s weathered, distorted face. Her black, beady eyes narrowed and she bared rotten teeth with a snarl as she clenched her clawed hand and prepared to fling a second fireball at him.

Rhuarc had closed the distance between them in a few powerful strides though, and before she’d finished the spell, he grabbed her by her flimsy arm and felt the snap of it breaking in his grip as he yanked her away from the altar. Before she could even muster a screech, he lopped her head off with his axe. He didn’t stop to watch her abandoned carcass slide over the edge of the parapet, down into the void of snow and cooling corpses below, and turned instead to the woman laid out on the table.

The dagger had fallen from the hagraven’s claws to land beside her right hand and she was reaching frostbitten fingers for it.

“Easy,” Rhuarc said, holstering his messy axe at the loop on his belt and realising he probably looked as frightening as the hagraven had. Six foot six and broad as a barn door at the shoulder, Rhuarc now had blood all up his face from one of the witches, a nasty burn on his shoulder that was only just now making itself known, and a long cut on his abdomen that was oozing blood down his solid paunch. As he’d got older, he’d lost the iron definition he’d had in his youth, but he was probably the strongest now that he’d ever been in his life.

No wonder the woman was staring wild-eyed at him like he was some animal barbarian, but his heart physically hurt in his chest when he saw the welts and bruises standing out starkly on her pale, Nordic complexion. Her long, midnight black hair was loose and lank and greasy, her lip was split and swollen, and there was a vibrant, purple bruise all around her left eye socket. Those dark brown eyes glared up at him with fierce defiance though, and her fingers found the hilt of the knife.

He smiled. “I know I look a sight,” he said in a low, quiet rumble, holding both hands up, bloody palms towards her. “I’m gonna help you though. Let’s get you healed up and out of here. I’m not sure what you can wear though…”

“My… My clothes are in… were in… a chest… in there,” she croaked, twitching her head slightly towards the chamber he’d just left. The swelling in her lip clearly made talking painful, and she sounded like she hadn’t had any water for days. That, or the thick, raw, red line around her throat was responsible, flanked by distinct, finger-sized bruises the colour of a ripe plum. It made his orc blood boil to see marks like that on a person’s body, but he made himself focus on the more immediate task of helping her.

“Alright. I’ll untie you — may I use that dagger?”

She nodded and reluctantly let her fingers go loose again. With the rope lashed so tightly around her wrist, she didn’t have enough purchase to lift her hand free of the hilt, so Rhuarc carefully slid his bloody fingers underneath hers and he eased the blade out.

Concentrating, he sawed steadily through the thick rope, and she hissed as she flexed her fingers when the rope finally sheared and one arm came free. The raw chafing showed him just how hard she’d fought her captors, and he found the warmth of pride glowing in the pit of his stomach for this stranger and her resilience. Methodically, Rhuarc moved his way around the table to free her ankles next before finally cutting the ropes binding her left arm to the cold table, and all the while keeping his eyes off her naked body as best he could.

“We need to get you somewhere sheltered. Can you sit up?”

She tried valiantly when he asked, but her strength failed her in a rush and she slumped back down with a gasp.

Rhuarc dropped the knife to the stone at his feet and stuck his right hand under her head just in time to stop her cracking her skull on the stone platform of the altar, and he cradled her lolling head in the palm of his hand. His already-bruised knuckles clunked against the altar under the full weight of her head as she surrendered at last, spent.  

“Easy,” he said. “I’ve got some magic. I’m going to heal you, alright? Keep steady, then we’ll find you some clothes and get you out of here.”

Her dark eyes rolled as the golden light of healing magic washed around her, and she slumped at last into unconsciousness.

Rhuarc picked her up with detached efficiency and carried her out of the biting wind and back into the tower that formed the top part of the tomb’s inner sanctum, marvelling at the Nord’s resilience to the cold. He knew that her people were tougher than most humans in these conditions, but still, with everything she’d been through, she probably should be dead.

Her small body was soft where many Nords were made of hard muscle, and he suspected that she had not been raised to be a fighter. That the Forsworn would snatch her away from whatever battle-free life she’d led before and defile her like this made his blood sing all over again and his hands itched to sink his axe into a nice, crunchy, Forsworn skull. He let the thought go with a growl around his thick tusks and shouldered the doors open.

With her pressed against his bare chest, he felt the tingle of magic in her blood too, and he recalled the way her body had drunk his own restoration magic down like water poured onto dry sand. Perhaps the fact that she was probably a mage had been why the hagraven had been about to sacrifice her in that unholy ritual.

Inside the echoing, stone room with the enchanting table, Rhuarc found the chest she’d mentioned, and he crouched down awkwardly in front of it with her half-draped across his lap, her naked body propped up by his right arm. He really didn’t want to have to use one of the beds in the tower that the witches had clearly slept in, but if the woman needed to rest, then he would stay with her and see that she was safe.

Just as he was fiddling one-handed with the catch of the chest, which luckily wasn’t locked, she drew in a deeper breath and came-to with a mewling sob of discomfort. Her bare legs were touching the floor and the room wasn’t much warmer than the air outside because of a huge hole in the ceiling, but at least they were out of the wind.

“I know,” he said without looking at her. “I’m going to find you something to wear. Just give me a second.”

“Thank you,” she rasped, and the sound became a sob as she squirmed in his arms, trying to curl inwards on herself. Whether that was to cover her naked body better or simply because she was hurting in every way humanly possible, he wasn’t sure. “Thank you. I thought that was it, when… when she… she —”

“Shh,” he said, briefly tightening his hold around her shoulders with a slight curl of his right arm, worried that if she grew too distressed, he might drop her. “It’s over now. You’re safe.”

“Thank you,” she said again, and then added with a little sniffle, “My name is Syl, by the way.”

“Rhuarc,” he grunted, finally lifting the lid of the chest. “This your stuff?”

She peered forward and nodded. An undyed linen shirt and brown trousers had been roughly stuffed into the wooden chest, along with a pair of softly-worn, fur-lined boots, a thick, fur-lined jacket, and a small alchemist’s pouch that fitted on a belt around the hips. He had something similar himself for the road, choosing to forgo the usual traveller’s pack with a bedroll and cooking pot. He hunted or foraged for what he needed and cooked it over an open fire and slept under the stars when he absolutely had to, but mostly, he actually planned his journeys to halt at an inn for the night these days, because he was too damned old now to be sleeping out of doors in the grass like a bloody wild boar. He also thought he glimpsed some linen underwear and wrappings in the chest too, but he didn’t let his gaze linger.

“You… need a hand?” he asked quietly, but she shook her head.

“I can just kneel here for a moment. I’ll be alright,” she said in a steady, if rough voice. “Thank you.”

He nodded once. “I’ll be over there,” he said, gesturing vaguely with his thumb over his left shoulder.

He helped her slide off his lap where he’d crouched beside the chest, and steadied her briefly with a hand at the small of her spine to stop her tipping backwards. Her flesh was still cold from lying out there on the table, but she couldn’t have been out there for too long before he’d found her, or she’d have died of exposure. Even a Nord couldn’t survive naked in the snow for very long.

Only then, with his rough palm pressed against the pale softness of her skin, did it strike him that it had actually been a very long time since he’d seen another naked body, and the feel of her skin beneath the calluses of his palm distantly stirred the cold embers of desire in him that had lain dormant and out of mind for longer than he cared to remember. Even for an orc, he wasn’t exactly short of people showing interest, but it just… hadn’t been something he’d wanted. Then of course, he’d found himself the adoptive father of a pair of ten and eleven year old girls, and all thoughts of romance and the so-called ‘Dibellan arts’ had evaporated completely from his life like autumn mist.

With a sigh, he banished the faint and inappropriate sensation and levered himself stiffly to his feet. As he did, he felt the cut in his lower belly pull with a sharp prick of pain and when he looked down at it, he found it already suppurating. His thick, naturally green, orcish skin had turned a nasty, angry red around the slash and something was oozing out of it that wasn’t blood. Poison. Fuck.

Glancing around the room, he wondered if there were any ingredients stashed way that the witches would have used, but he was in the wrong part of their stronghold for that and anyway, who knows what they might have been brewing in there? Thinking about what limited stocks he kept in the emergency pouch on his belt, he drew out two carefully-sealed glass bottles and tipped their contents into the cupped palm of his left hand. It was hardly ideal, but it would do for now, and he smeared it onto the open wound.

The flash of pain made him grunt, but with a soft fizzing, the powders got to work and nullified the festering poison before it could spread.

“Rhuarc?”

When he turned around at the sound of her voice, he found Syl looking at him from where she was still kneeling in front of the wooden chest.

“Are you alright?” she asked with a frown.

Her alto was still hoarse and rasping, and he wondered if she was still in pain. “I’m fine. Are you? Did I heal you enough?”

At his question, she smiled, and something in his chest slipped sideways when he saw it.

How could a woman who’d just been through the torment she had experienced still find the grace to smile like that? And at an orc of all creatures.

“Yes,” she said, and, now that she was dressed, she stood slowly; cautiously.

She wasn’t very tall for a human, perhaps five foot five at most, and her body seemed somehow even smaller in her loose-fitting, practical clothes. He could clearly see the swell of her hips though, and the definite curve of her breasts, and her dark eyes looked very large as she regarded him. In an attempt to tidy herself up, she had tied her lank, black hair back off her face in a low ponytail, but she still looked like she’d taken one hell of a battering, despite the healing magic.

And yet, there she was on her own two feet, and her resilience was suddenly as devastatingly attractive to him as were her natural good looks. Rhuarc swallowed thickly, utterly floored by what he was feeling for the first time in decades.

“You’re hurt,” she said, eyeing the wound in his stomach.

He felt her open herself up to start channelling magicka, and his own mismatching eyes went wide. “No, don’t!” he gasped, taking an involuntary step towards her and holding out both hands in a kind of warding gesture. “Please, you need to conserve your energy. I’ll heal myself in a moment. I was just waiting for the poison to work its way out first.” No point sealing up the cut with all the vileness still inside, after all.

Syl walked slowly towards him, moving like a black cat along a wall, with her gaze focused on his bare paunch.

Rhuarc’s breath caught and he froze. He couldn’t have moved so much as a muscle then, even if an army of hagravens had descended on him.

When Syl came to a halt in front of him, she brought her fingertips up to touch the fevered flesh around the wound. Very carefully, she let a tiny thread of golden magic seep into him, and he honestly did not mean to let out the noise that left his lips. He hadn’t even known he was still capable of making a sound like that.

Pleasure curled deep and visceral in his gut, both from the whisper-light contact of her fingertips against the trail of hair on his stomach, and from the way her magic coiled and twisted inside him, stitching him up from the inside out and cleansing the last of the poison’s putrefaction in the same deft stroke. She wasn’t just some hedge witch with a little magic: Syl had to be a master of the school of restoration with a healing that skilled.

“There,” she breathed. “Just looks a bit of a mess now,” she added, eyeing the blood that still covered him in a series of spatters and smears.

He couldn’t catch his breath for a moment, but he cleared his throat and stepped back. “Not much different from usual then,” he said a beat too late and painfully aware that his gruff bass sounded far more winded than when he had fought his way through the entire complex to reach her. “Thank you.”

With a long inhale, she let her hand fall back against her side and turned her big, dark eyes up to regard him. “So… what happens now?”

I hope you enjoyed this one? I'm fairly certain most people aren't going to read down to this point, so if you did, please consider reblogging it to help it find more of an audience, and give Rhuarc and Syl some love?

And if you want to learn more about how they fall in love on their journey away from Hag's End, be sure to leave me an ask or a comment! Otherwise I'll assume there's no interest and won't keep sharing it. :)

Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar)

[cheeeeseburger]

Sweet like tiramisu, bitter like coffee Part 1

Part 2 Part 3

Lance Stroll x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: I don't know how I feel about this one, but I wrote it in honour of the Canadian GP! English is not my first language, apologies for the mistakes!

“Lance, I think you should call security. Look who’s here!” Your older brother pointed at you, acting like you were some kind of crazy fan who sneaked in.

You glanced at your brother “They really let you in? Even with your ugly face? It’s going to be bad for their PR, I tell you.” He only sticked his tongue out to you in response.

“Hey, kid,” Lance simply said.

You grinned at Lance, and when he smiled back, it was like you were fourteen again, trying to impress him when skiing at the Mont Tremblant, sneaking glances at him. Gosh, he still had that boyish look that used to make you stutter in front of him.

“Salut, Lance. It’s been a while” you said. He pulled you closed to give you a kiss on each cheek. He smelled like that one hoodie of his that he gave you years ago when you were cold at La Ronde. Embarrassingly, you still wear it sometimes, probably more than you should.

“I know, you’ve changed, kid. You used to be so small. I guess you grew up, huh?”

To prove his point, you gave him a little spin, with your sundress flowing around your thighs. Lance looked at you up and down, noticing that you had grew in all the right places. He flushed a little.

“I guess I did,” you answered, looking right into his eyes. For once, it was him who seemed more affected by your interaction. Your cheeks were only coloured a light pink, a clear amelioration from the tomato look you used to rock whenever you talked to Lance.

Your brother put a stop to the moment you two shared. “Alright, quit showing off. She is still the same as before, only without the braces. Don’t be fooled, Lance, she is still an airhead.” You smacked him on the arm.  “An airhead with a uni degree, dumbass. You’re a college dropout.”

That was a low blow, but still, your brother deserved it. You got a middle finger in response. Lance chuckled, seeing that you hadn’t changed completely.

“You’re still as quick as you were before, kid,” he said, laughing. “What’s your degree in? Engineering, right?”

“Yeah, I just graduated in mechanical engineering. But I’m starting my master in the fall, at McGill.”

He looked impressed at your degree and at the famous Montreal school you attended. “Damn kid, you’re not the type to take it easy, huh? Unlike your lazy ass brother over there.” He lightly punched him on his arm. Your brother pretended to be offended. “Come on guys, do I really deserve all this verbal abuse?”

He saw you laugh, and decided he could not let that slide. “You, shut up, or I’ll tell Lance you had his picture in your locker in high school.”

You gasped. Oh no he didn’t.

Lance laughed, blushing a little. “That’s cute. What about college? Do you have a picture of me at McGill?” He looked way too smug.

This was bad. Very bad. Still, was he just flirting with you?

At the same time, his father entered the paddock. You jumped at the opportunity to change the subject.

“Lawrence, mon Stroll préféré!” You smiled at him. The older man opened his arm to give you a hug.

“Mon sucre d’orge, how are you?” He always had the best hug, making you feel safe and loved.

Lawrence Stroll was like an uncle to you, a father even. Your family and the Stroll family were very close, and you grew up side by side with the Stroll children, even though you were a few years younger than them. You went skiing together during the winter break. You went on vacations together. Your summers were filled with meals at each other house, and you ended up begging to sleepover every single time. To this day, the smell of chlorine always takes you back to endless afternoons spent playing in the pool at the Stroll house.

“I’m doing great, I’m happy to be here!” you replied. You had seen the man only a few weeks earlier, at your graduation dinner, so there wasn’t much catching up to do.

Lawrence exclaimed: “Mon sucre d’orge, you should be at every races! After you finish your master, you should work for us!”

You beamed at the man: “I would like that very much.” It’s true, you would love it. And you had the degree for it.

“So would I. And I wouldn’t be the only one,” he added in a whisper, gesturing towards Lance.

You turned a deep shade of red. Typical you. Lawrence always knew you had a thing for his son. Luckily, Lance did not look like he had heard what his father just said. If he did, you’d have to leave Montreal to live in a country where there are no races.

You brother shook hands with Lawrence, talking for a while. You listened with one ear, too busy sneaking glances at Lance. He was doing the same thing, admiring the silhouette that your dress gave you, the way your hair was framing your face, your slightly parted lips. He surprised himself and started daydreaming about how it would feel to push you against the wall, lifting one of your legs while he stunned you with kisses all over your face.

Lance was pulled out of his fantasy when your brother said it was time to go.

“Bonne chance, Lance,” you wished him good luck shyly, then followed your brother out of the paddock. Oh, your massive crush was so back.

He watched you leave, mesmerized by you, your presence, the way you carry yourself. You were no longer an awkward teen, but a beautiful young woman.

“Poor girl. You know she had a crush on you for years, right? Good on her for moving on.” Lawrence said to his son, sighing. “She really has a heart of gold, and she’s way too bright for her own good. The man who will have her heart will be a lucky man. A very lucky man indeed.”

Later during the day, you received a message from Lance. This was unusual. The last time he had texted you was to wish you a happy birthday three months ago.

Hey kid, it’s me.

You replied quickly, not wanting to bother with pretending to be too busy to answer. When it came to Lance, you were too weak to play hard to get. Also, this afternoon was the first time he had shown signs that he did not see you as your brother's sister, but as a pretty girl. You would be a fool not to jump at the opportunity, if the opportunity came.

Hi, what’s up?

Have you eaten yet?

Yeah, why?

Let me bring you some desert.

What???

Text me your address. Nvm I got it.

Lance, what’s going on?

He didn’t answer after that. Realizing that he was probably on his way, you started tidying up your appartement. It was pretty neat already though, so you mostly did it to distract you. From the corner of your eye, you saw his hoodie and quickly threw it in your wardrobe. If he did come to your place, this was the kind of things that he should not see, like your F1 calendar from last year that was still hung up to the month of January, because he was the picture of the month. But why the hell would Lance show up at your door?

A knock on the door made you jump. You opened it to find Lance on your doorstep, carrying a bag.

“Hey, I brought you a sweet treat”, he announced, letting himself in. You were too shocked to speak. Chat, is this real? He noticed your appearance. You were wearing a silk nightgown. “Are you ready for bed already?” he asked, confused.

Finally, he seemed real enough for you to gain back the ability to speak.

“Uhhh, yeah?”

“What are you, 90? It’s not even 9 yet!”

“So what? I like to be comfortable,” you responded, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

He stared at you and your short nightgown, letting his gaze linger on the sight that was the strap sliding of your left shoulder. He wanted to leave a kiss on that exact spot.

“No, no, you’re good, I just expected you to be ready to go out or something,” he said laughing, while walking in your apartment. “You got a nice place.”

“Thanks,” you replied. “Why did you expect me to go out?” You followed him around in your apartment. It was weird to see him there, but he looked so good in his Boss hoodie that you let it slide for now.

“Gee, uh, I don’t know, maybe because it’s a Thursday night and you’re young and in Montreal?” he answered like you had asked the dumbest question. He finally settled in your kitchen, leaving the box he was carrying on the counter. “Where are your plates?”

“Over here,” you opened the cabinet door at the same time he made a move to grab the doorknob, leaving him towering over you. The last time the two of you had been so close was before puberty. Internally, you were screaming. He grabbed two plates.

“What did you bring? And what are you doing here?” you asked, trying to hide the affect that his proximity had on you. “And I do go out, sometimes.”

“Having dinner with my dad and your parents doesn’t count. I bought you your favourite tiramisu, from that Italian restaurant you always dragged us to when we were kids.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Don’t worry, I do go out to shake my ass.” He raised an eyebrow at that, his eyes widening a little. You hoped he was imagining you in a tight dress, dancing in the club. You got out two spoons and a knife out of your cutlery drawer. “Thanks for the sweet treat, but why though?”

Lance opened the box to reveal a gorgeous tiramisu. He was right, this dessert really was your favourite, specifically the recipe they used at this restaurant. You both sat on the stools hidden underneath your countertop. “Can’t a guy do something nice?” he said sarcastically.

You looked at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Lance, come on, be for real. We haven’t seen each other in years, then you show up unannounced at my place.” You cut the dessert and placed it on your respective plates.

He put his hand in the air: “What! I have no bad intentions, I swear. I just thought you could use some sugar.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. Against your wish, you let out a small moan as you took your first bite out of the tiramisu. It really was that good. You turned beet red and surprisingly, so did he. Cute.

“Lance, you know I used to have a crush on you, right? But that was years ago, so if you expect me to fall at your feet and sleep with you, you’re in the wrong place, buddy.” This was a lie. He could have you anywhere he wanted, and you would say thank you.

His eyes shuttered a little when he took his first bite. “I’m flattered that you used to have a crush on me, but also a little insulted. How come you don’t have one right now? And is your opinion of me so low that you believe I could really use you like that?” He really did look insulted.

You took another bite of the tiramisu, this time fulling embracing the moan coming out of your mouth. He looked positively flushed now.

“Lance, I saw the way you looked at me earlier. It was like you finally realized I was a grown woman now.”

He took a bite, and he let his head fall back a little. So two can play this game. You were feeling hot all over. It was like a tennis match between the two of you, a duel. All of this over a sweet treat.

“It’s true that you made quite the impression on me earlier. It must be the lack of braces,” he said sarcastically.

You made a show of licking your spoon when you finished your portion. He looked jealous of the spoon.The ball is in your court, sir.

“Oh really? It wasn’t my curves that my dress showed off nicely, or how long my legs looked with those heels? It’s weird, every other guy there seemed to notice my body. I even got the number of an engineer. I think I’m going to go out with him, I might even sleep with him, all that good stuff.” The look on his face was priceless.

It seems you had won this round. He didn’t touch his tiramisu, only bit his bottom lip. He was blushing hard but wanted to maintain his poker face.

“None of these things crossed my mind,” he answered, though it was a very obviously fake answer. He seemed to be having trouble breathing. It was very good for your ego. If your seventeen years old self could see you right now, she’d be proud.

You hit him with quite the shot when you picked up some tiramisu with your spoon off his plate. The simple gesture had quite the effect on him. His gaze followed your spoon from his plate to your mouth. In your face, sir.

“That’s too bad. I wanted you to notice them,” you said innocently.

He did not take this shot well, and immediately went into attack mode. He pulled your stool closer to his and started massaging your calf. He was not playing anymore.

“Don’t worry, kid, I can see them very clearly now.” He stared at you and the generous cleavage your nightdress gave you. The innuendo in his eyes was very clear. You could cut the tension in the room with the same knife you had cut the dessert with.

You moaned softly. This time, it had nothing to do with the tiramisu, and everything to do with the way his hand was slowly getting higher and higher on your leg. Yeah, it was over. He definitely won the match.

You looked at his eyes, which were now a nice shade of bedroom eyes. You felt all the hesitation you had leave your body, and so did your judgement.

“Lance. I really want to have sex with you right now.” How embarrassing to say this out loud. But it wasn't your fault, really. His face and the tiramisu were a deadly combo.

He smirked at your admission. “I thought you said I shouldn’t expect to sleep with you earlier.”

You responded quickly. “Screw what I said. Wait, no, screw me instead,” you leaned from your stool to pull his hoodie off.

He let you take it off, but he was wearing a shirt underneath. He smirked. “In a hurry?”

“Yeah, and for a guy that drives fast for a living, you’re slow as hell.” He laughed at that, and you took off his shirt too. It was sight to be seen. Niagara Falls is nothing compared to Lance Stroll shirtless. He should be on Canadian postcards instead of Lake Louise.

“Don’t worry kid, I can go fast if need be.” You were getting very turned on, and he had not even made a move yet. “So that means you’ll sleep with me?” You leaned to give him kisses all over his neck. 10 years of wanting him made you desperate like that. He shivered at your touch, and he felt your smile against his neck. How flattering to get a reaction out of him. He gently lifted you off your stool and picked up you like a doll so you could sit on his lap. You immediately resumed your activity and went back to kiss his neck, occasionally leaving a mark.

“You seem to want it so bad, and I wouldn’t want to disappoint you. Our friendship means the world to me,” he said, teasing you.

“Uh uh. Can we add “with benefits” to the title of our friendship? Because I really want to get to the benefits right now.” You said in between hickeys. He was holding your waist to keep you close. How you both fitted on that tiny little stool, you had no idea, but this stool was now considered blessed in your mind.

“Since you asked so nicely. Your brother told me you had a boyfriend though.” His grip on you tightened.

“He’s not my boyfriend, and I don’t care about him. He’s probably in a bar somewhere, talking to other women, which is fine, since we are not together.” It was his turn to give you attention. He made a trail of kisses all over your neck and jaw, stopping near the corner of your mouth.

“That’s good. Do you have sex with him sometimes?” he asked possessively, which was very unlike him. Lance had never shown an interest in you, and he now wanted to know who you were sleeping with.

“Yeah.” It’s hard to form complete sentences when your crush of the last 10 years is busy leaving marks all over your neck.

“Is he any good to you?” He stopped to look you in the eyes, but kept you distracted by playing with the strap of your nightdress.

“I guess. But I hope you will change my opinion of what is good sex and what is bad sex.” You put your hands behind his neck and started kissing him. It quickly turned into a make out session. He tasted like tiramisu. This was an Oscar worthy kiss. A painting should be made to commemorate the moment. A page in history books should be dedicated to it. Still kissing you, Lance stood up and lifted you with him.

“Where’s your bedroom?” You must have done something good recently. You felt like one of God’s favourites.

You did not sound like yourself when you answered, “The next door to your right.” It was a very surreal moment. He opened the door and gently put you down on your bed. He was standing up, shirtless, and it looked a lot like the teenage fantasy of him you had for years.

Your hair was spread all over the pillow, and your nightdress had ridden up. Playboy magazine would have loved you back in the days. “You’re gorgeous. You look like an angel,” Lance said. “How come I’ve never noticed it before?”

You blushed. “You were too busy thinking of me as a sister.” Your propped yourself on your elbows to get a better look at him. The sight took your breath away. “Don’t move, I’m taking a mental picture of you. You look so fucking hot right now.”

It was his turn to blush. “Thanks.” He pulled you by your ankles so you could sit on the edge of the bed. He then got on his knees, and ladies and gents, that nearly did it for you. You felt very, very hot. His hand slid under your nightdress so he could take of your underwear. It was hard to remember to breathe.

“Gosh, are we in porn movie or something? No guy has ever gotten on his knees for me before, but they sure as hell expect me to.” You said, laughing in embarrassment at your lack of experience.

“Boys are stupid.” All of Montreal probably heard you when he first touched you with his tongue. It was too much: his touch, the sight of him between your thighs, the grunts he made, you had to grip the sheets to stay still. By the noises he made, he seemed to enjoy himself too.

It took an embarrassing short amount of time for you to shake and scream in pleasure. No guy had ever made you come so quickly, and it had never felt as good. Sadly, it would probably never feel so good ever again. He got out from your nightdress and smirked when he saw you panting.

“You’re the one out of breath, huh?” He licked his lips, and you nearly came again.

“Shut up” was all you had to say. Lance laughed: “Real mature.” He once again took you by the ankles, this time to push you back to the center of the bed. He got on top of you.

“Is this the part where you get inside of me?” He smiled. “You’re so eager. It’s cute. The Aston Martin cap you have is cute too,” he said, referencing the baseball cap on your dresser.

“It’s for Alonso,” you replied, blushing. Lance smirked and whispered in your ear “Yeah, right.” He started kissing your jawline. The whole block probably heard you moaning. Having him on top of you felt so good. Your nails were probably hurting him from how hard you were gripping his back, but he didn’t complain. “Too bad it’s not him in your bed right now.” You shut him up with a kiss.

“Please, Lance, you have to get in me,” you whined. You unzipped his pants and palmed him. “Please, please, please.” He was making pained noises too, and he got out a condom from his pocket. So he had come to your place expecting to get laid. You decided to put the thought aside for now.

You stopped thinking anyway the second he got inside of you. The feeling was nearly overwhelming, and every time he moved, you couldn’t help but moan.

“Lance, goddam, why didn’t we do this earlier?” you asked between screams. He seemed pleased. You arched your back and it was his turn to let out grunts. “Well, we’re doing it now,” he sounded in pain.

“You’re going to ruin me for every other guy”, you complained. Not long after, Montreal heard you scream his name as you came undone for the second time that evening. He copied you a short while later. Both of you were panting, too stunned by what just happened. It was definitely the best sex of your life, but you were too shy to ask him if it was any good. You hoped it was.

You were just about to ask him if he wanted to spend the night when he suddenly got up.

“What are you doing?” you asked, confused. He pulled his pants back up and zipped them. “I gotta go. Don’t tell anyone we did this.” You pulled yourself to sit against your headboard. You wanted to cry. “Are you serious?”

All he said was: “Yeah, I am. I’ll see you around.” And he left, leaving you speechless in the bed where he just had you. When you heard the door close on his way out, you broke down in tears. How could he be so cruel? He had just used you, ruining years of friendship for this. You felt hurt and humiliated.

After a few minutes of crying hysterically, you suddenly could not stand having his smell on your sheets. It was nearly midnight, but you started ripping them off your bed, and you threw them in the washing machine. There were signs of his passage everywhere in your apartment, and it hurt too bad. You started cleaning manically, from scrubbing the floor to washing your entire silverware. After, it was you who needed to be rid of him. His touch lingered on your skin. You scrubbed your skin until it turned red and shampooed your hair about 5 times. As expected, you broke down crying in the shower. Lance was your friend; he had been since you were kids. Did none of that matter? Were you just a quick fuck to him? A one-night stand that did not even last a night?

You didn’t recognize him. He was such a kind soul. How could you ever face him again? And the fact that he asked you to not tell anyone? The worst thing is, you knew you would never tell anyone, because the humiliation would be too bad.

Eventually, you passed out in exhaustion on the couch. You had to attend the whole weekend, otherwise it would be suspicious, since people expected you to be there. You put on your best dresses, your brave face and you showed up Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. You talked with Lawrence, hanged out with your brother and some friends, you even made small talk with some of the drivers. Your heart hurt like a bitch the whole time, but at least you managed to avoid Lance. That engineer who gave you his number came to see you again, and you made plans for later in the week. Any distraction was welcome.

By the late afternoon on Sunday, you had had enough. You felt tired, heartsick and exhausted after a weekend of fake smiling. Leaving was the only thing you wanted to do. Perhaps you should book a vacation, give your heart a break. Or at least get extremely drunk with your friends. Maybe do both.

You were hiding in a corner, waiting for your brother when a shadow appeared. It was Lance, of course, towering over you. Immediately, your heart started beating fast. Stupid heart. His hair was all ruffled and he was sweating lightly. He had the same look when he was on his knees for you.

“Hey, kid,” he sounded so casual, like nothing had happened between the two of you, like he didn’t have half of your heart.

“Allô. Good job on the race today.” You hoped your voice was not trembling. You did not even attempt to look at him in the eyes, afraid of revealing your pain. The guy you had liked for years made you feel wanted then crushed you in a matter of hours. Of course, that didn’t seem to matter to him.

He put his hand under your chin to force you to look at him, then caressed your cheek with his thumb. “Thanks. Listen, I hope you did not expect anything more than what we did last night. I’m leaving Montreal soon anyway.” Tears started to sting your eyes, but you tried your best to hide them, but Lance was not a fool.

“Not at all. This was just a one-time thing.” You smiled, but tears were running down your cheeks. He wiped them away with his thumb.

“You’re cute when you lie. I’ll see you around.” Lance kissed your cheek, then left you in shock, hiding in the corner. His gaze did not betray any sign of regrets. Your heart was shattered in million tiny pieces that he could crush between two fingers. It was cut into bite-size pieces that he could eat, like that damn tiramisu.

That night, you went home and tried to drown any thoughts of him with ice cream and sad music. It did not work.

A few glasses of wine in, your phone buzzed. It was the man of the hour.

I’ll be at your place in 10.

Against your better judgement, you opened the door to him in your cutest nightdress with mascara tears running down your face. He didn’t bother with tiramisu this time. Nor did he the next time. And the next time.

To be used by him was better than not having him at all.

[youaresimplylovely]

“Fast and Fabulous: A Driven Love” 

---- A love story between a Formula 1 Driver and a Supermodel

Chapter 5 (Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4)

Pairing: Carlos Sainz!Formula 1 Driver x Famous Supermodel!Reader

Words: 1,448 words

Warnings: humor, playful teasing, translated filipino and spanish, fluff and very sweet at the end <3

Proofread!!

Summary: Boys Night

A/N: oop we're already at chapter 5!! Thank you guysss for all the support and here is chapter 5. Once again if you want to be added to the taglist you can reply here or my other post about the taglist. Happy reading lovelies ! <3

After your short but meaningful stay in Japan, you were back home. Sweet Los Angeles, Pao picked you up from the airport, now driving you back home. Honestly, you were surprised that he knew how to drive. Well, closing the fact that he does have his license, it's just that he's growing too fast, and you missed it when he was a baby. Nevertheless, you were happy that your baby boy was big now. 

Hours later, you and Pao arrived back home. Pao parked the car with you in your garage, which was filled with many other family-owned vehicles. After parking, you guys head out to go inside the house. 

Meanwhile, your father invited not only the drivers but also some of their families. Boy, were you in for a surprise? In the living room, the drivers were already comfortable. The drivers invited were Max Verstappen, Check Perez, Lewis Hamilton, Valterri Bottas, Carlos Sainz, Charles Leclerc, Lando Norris, Daniel Ricciardo, Sebastian Vettel, Lance Stroll, Fernando Alonso, Esteban Ocon, Pierre Gasly, Yuki Tsunoda, Kimi Raikkonen, Antonio Giovinazzi, Nikita Mazepin, Mick Schumacher, Nicholas Latifi, and George Russell. 

Along with them, Carlos' father, Charles' brothers, and your grandfather from your father's side, Grandpa Bernard, and your grandfather from your mother's side, Grandpa Diego. 

You underestimated the number of men coming for a boy's night. 

"You know Daniel, a big congrats on your race win. It was spectacular." Your father chuckles, opening a beer bottle as he sits on the sofa beside his dad, your grandfather, Grandpa Bernard. 

"Thank you, Jean, it was nice. It was also nice seeing your family there too. Although I didn't see your daughter, though." Daniel smiles at your father. 

"Yeah, we had a fun race; Pao was quite upset about Max and the crash." Your father grins at Daniel, eventually looking at Max and Lewis. 

"Awful, but we're still best mates." Lewis laughs it off, wrapping his arm around Max's back and patting it. 

"Jean, the boys have been asking if Y/N is single." Kimi laughs hysterically, telling on your father. 

"Oh well, don't worry, she's been single for the past two years." Once the other drivers heard that, their eyes shifted to your father, giving them a look of "I can take good care of your daughter, sir." Your father laughed once he saw the looks. 

"Ay, no, she is picky with men, though. She has high standards, but I don't know what her type is. Surely Pao knows they're very close." Mark says as he grins at everyone. 

"You know, sir, Dutch people are very husband material. I'd very much like to." As Max tried to convince your father, Pierre's whimsical French accent cut him off. 

"Ay no, monsieur, the French people are very good with women. Surely, you know that you're French too." Pierre gives your father a charming look, smiling eagerly 

"Oh god, stop it, you people!" Fernando rolls his eyes at them, groaning. He was your godfather, so he is protective of you, especially if his co-workers are interested in you. 

"Well, whatever it is, I'm good with Y/N dating an F1 driver." Your father chuckles, amused that the drivers were very interested in you. 

Moments after that, the front door opened. Pao came in. 

"Oh hey, bud, how was the drive back home?" Your father lights up, seeing Pao back home. 

"You know the guys." Your father smiles as he eyes the drivers. 

"Yeah, yeah, of course." Pao smiles at them, greeting them warmly. 

"Max." He smiles, reaching his hand out to shake it. 

"You cried." James teases Pao, laughing at the fact Pao did cry. 

"Oh, shut up." Pao rolls his eyes, smiling that Max shook his hand back. 

"Hey, Pao-" Before you could finish your sentence, your eyes widened as you saw the drivers. You didn't know when they'd come and were caught off guard. 

"Dad! You didn't tell they were coming!" You settle your bags down, whining at your father as you look at him dead in the eyes with your hands on your hips. 

"What do you mean, honey? I told you right last Saturday." He smiles at you softly, worried at your reaction.

"Yeah! But you didn't tell me what time! Our house is a mess, lo siento. (I'm sorry)" You chuckle nervously as you apologize to Carlos' father and everyone else. 

You hurriedly clean up some of the mess on the kitchen counter as Pao sits on one of the stools. While doing so, you couldn't help but feel Carlos' longing gaze. You couldn't see him, but you thought it. 

"Now, this is what I mean when her Spanish-Filipino side comes out." Pao Snickers is watching clean up the mess. 

The drivers smile as they chuckle at Pao's joke. 

"Ay pao! No shoes

 You said it without realizing your mother said it to you. Laughing as you see your mother glaring at Pao. You decide to let her do the scolding. 

“Ano ba yan Pao! How many times! No shoes! Hindi ikaw ang naglilinis ng bahay na to, baba hanggang taas. (What’s that Pao! How many times! No shoes! You’re not the one who cleans this house from bottom to top.” Your mother glares at Pao, with her hands on her hips.

"Yes, ma." Pao chuckles nervously, immediately removing his shoes. 

"Good. Now I have to go. Have a great night, darling." Your mother grabs her purse, quickly kissing your father's cheek as she leaves. 

"So Pao, tell us. What's your sister's type in men?" Sebastian chuckles, asking on behalf of the others. 

"Tall, handsome, great hair, older Spanish man currently driving for Ferrari, whose teammate is Charles Leclerc and ex-teammate is Lando Norris." Pao smiles brightly, standing up from his chair, and gives Carlos a pat on the back. 

Your eyes widened at Pao and what he said. You stuttered, and so did your face. You stood next to Pao as you blinked at him endlessly. 

"Um! So not true.”

 You chuckle nervously, and it is clearly apparent that you are lying and denying it. 

"You know, Y/N, lying is a sin, and you believe in God, right?" Pao smirked at you, causing the other drivers to chuckle. They weren't jealous of Carlos, but they were amused. 

You couldn't reply, baffled at the fact he was right. Pao chuckles at your reaction, patting your shoulder as he points his finger up and makes a sign of the cross. Eventually going upstairs to his room. You stare at the drivers and at your father, still speechless, but you pick up your things and walk out. The drivers couldn't help but giggle at you having a crush on Carlos cause Carlos himself was amused.

Hours later, you were hanging around in the lounge area watching TV. Suddenly, your eyes shift behind you, and you see Carlos staring at you in the doorway. Eventually, he approaches you with a smug smile as he sits next to you. 

"So you have a crush on me?" He stares at you, obviously with love in his eyes, leaning in closer, making the air thicken each second. You could feel and hear his warm breath against yours. 

"Well, I- I'm sorry!" You couldn't help but say sorry; you looked down at him, embarrassed at the fact that you had a crush on him. Well, for so long now. 

Carlos smiles softly at your cute behavior; he gently grabs your chin, lifting your face up as he stares at you. He smiles, putting the strand of hair on your face behind your ear. 

"Que para mi amor? You know you're a very beautiful woman, and I appreciate you liking me. Because you know? The moment I saw you in that hotel, and I saw your confidence, braveness, and beauty. I fell in love with you. (What for my love?)" 

You couldn't help but blush at his words, smiling happily as you put your hands on his hands, still in your chin. 

"Can I court you?" He smiles softly, gently taking your hands and holding them in his.

"You're the first man to ask that." You giggle as you leave him holding your hands. 

"And I'll make sure I'll be the best cariño." He lays his forehead against yours, still smiling. 

"Then you're welcome to." You smile at him, giggling at how sweet he is. 

"I can't wait to be there for you, mi amor, I'll wait a thousand lifetimes for you."

He kisses your forehead softly, smiling at you. He was like a teenager in love again. You were so happy that you may have found the man of your dreams, not "may." He really was the man of your dreams.

TAGLIST

@xoscar03 @sugarvibez @nikfigueiredo @itsjustkhaos @d3kstar

[dxncingwithastrxnger]

1. uh oh, i'm falling in love

A/N: Hello!!! I said I was gonna write and post this story ages ago and I am so sorry for how long this took!! But now I've finally posted it!!! And chapter 2 is almost finished so look out for that one!! I super hope you enjoy this series and that it was worth the wait!!!!

Pairing(s): Lancelot x GN!Tristan's Twin!Reader (No pronouns specified and I never specify whether they're identical or not, that's completely up to you!)

Summary: The King of Liones throws a party and among all the socializing, Lancelot and (Y/N) decide to spend their time breaking a few rules.

Tags: Alcohol Consumption, Underage Drinking, Meliodas, Fluff, Drunkenness (Is that a word??)

Word Count: 3,088

Song Inspiration: Labyrinth By Taylor Swift

Not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

~*~

[Series Masterlist]

[Author Masterlist]

[Read on AO3]

~*~

You lean back against the cold stone wall behind you, sighing softly. You can feel the chill of it on your back through the thin fabric of your tunic, but you don't really care much. You’re a bit overheated from the partially crowded dining hall you had been in just a few minutes earlier and you really prefer it much more out here than back in there at the moment.

Nearly everyone you know is there. All four apocalypse knights as well as all their friends, Hendy and Dreyfus, mom and dad, Aunt Margaret and Uncle Gil. It’s a celebration of sorts. It’s someone’s birthday, one of the knights that isn’t Tris or Lance, though you’re not sure which one. Not that your father really needs much of a reason to throw a party anyways, but it is a nice sentiment at least.

It's not that you don't enjoy having fun with everyone, you do, but despite knowing every single person in that room, most of them aren't really your friends. Not including family, there’s only one person in there that you’re close to and by the time everyone had finished eating and scattered into different groups and conversations, you were the only person left by yourself, floundering to figure out what to do next. And so, you came outside to get some air.

"What are you doing now?" A voice says from beside you, the person sounding exasperated.

You turn to the right and crane your neck up towards the doorway leading from the dining hall to the balcony, your (Y/E/C) eyes locking with bright red ones. Your face flushes and you look away, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of your neck sheepishly.

"...sitting outside?" You ask uncertainly.

Lancelot sighs before he's sitting down next to you, so close that his shoulder is touching yours. You suppress a shiver at the warmth he radiates and loosen your hold on your knees, letting your legs stretch out in front of you. You mimic his sitting position, letting your leg touch his as well, and try your best not to think of your reason for doing so.

"(Y/N), you can be friends with them, too. Friendship isn't exclusive, you know." He points out for probably the millionth time in your guys' friendship.

"I know that, Lan, but you've never managed to succeed much in making friends in the past besides me and Tris, especially not an entire group of them, and I really don't wanna get in the way of that. You deserve to just have a group of friends without any interruptions." You tell him with confidence, even though you know it doesn't make much sense in the long run.

"And that wouldn't change just because you are a part of that group. You're my friend, too, my best friend, whether you're friends with the rest of them or not." He tells you, and you can feel his eyes on you, but you force yourself to keep looking away from him for just a little longer.

"Well, still. The five of you guys have a very unique bond and I'm not gonna take the chance of getting in the way of that." You say matter-of-factly.

Your best friend snorts. "Is that the same excuse you use with your brother? Cause I know you have this same argument with him just as much as you do with me."

You groan, throwing your head back and letting it hit the wall, causing a dull ache that you ignore. "Can we not talk about this right now, please?" You finally look at him, your eyes pleading for him to switch topics.

His expression softens as he looks at you and he nods. "Fine. Instead, let's drink." He gets a little grin on his face that's similar to an expression you'd seen on his father's face plenty of times, but at the same time, it's somehow still just all Lancelot. He holds up a dark green bottle and two chalices which had been on the other side of him, out of your line of sight.

You were glad for the conversation change and it was your turn to snort. "What did you sneak away this time?" You ask him knowingly.

He sits up a little straighter rather than slouching against the wall and places the chalices between his legs in front of him. "I have absolutely no idea but I snatched it from one of the castle guards. Heard him bragging about how good it was to one of his buddies, so you know, I thought you and I could test it out just to be sure he wasn't lying." He smirks as he opens up the bottle and starts pouring some for each of you.

You feel a slight flutter in your chest at the thought of him specifically wanting to share it with you and you stay quiet as you inspect the liquid in the chalice he hands you. The alcohol is a light pink color, almost translucent, and the first thing you can think of to compare it to, as random as it is, is Isolde's hair. Maybe a little darker, though. It's pretty. And not at all like any alcohol you'd ever seen or heard of before.

"You sure this is safe to drink?" You ask him sceptically as you turn your face towards him, though your eyes stay on your drink. "This isn't gonna turn out to actually be poison or anything, right?"

​​​​​​You bite your lip as you hear him let out that arrogant chuckle of his under his breath. "No, it's not poison, (Y/N). Now, c'mon, are we drinking or what?" He holds his chalice out and looks at you expectantly.

You shake your worry away and look at him with a small grin, tapping your chalice against his with a soft clink before you both take your first sip. Your eyes widen as the taste hits your tongue. It's sweet, with a slightly bitter undertone, and a deep burn as it slips down your throat that isn't unpleasant and definitely wouldn't be expected based on how sweet it is.

"Damn." Lancelot mutters appreciatively against the lip of his cup.

"Agreed." You mumble before taking a deeper gulp and enjoying it, closing your eyes and humming.

You pull your chalice away from your lips, intent on savoring what's left in it since it's your first time trying it, but Lancelot is gradually relaxing more against your side and the feel of his body still touching yours feels so much nicer than it should and you guys have an entire bottle to yourself and suddenly savoring your drink is the last thing on your mind as you shrug your shoulders and chug the rest of it down, sighing softly at the sweetness of it.

You relish in the taste for a few moments longer before grabbing the bottle from its spot in between Lance’s legs and refilling your chalice, though you misjudge and almost spill some of it over the rim of the cup. You giggle softly at yourself. You're quickly starting to realize that whatever this stuff is, it works fast, but you don't really mind.

"Hey, don't spill any of that, I only got one bottle this time and I don't wanna waste any of it." The boy beside you says sternly and at his words, you put every ounce of your focus into not spilling a single drop of alcohol until your chalice is filled and you hold the bottle out in his general direction.

He takes it from you and you take a long drink, sighing softly in content and slouching back against the wall, allowing your head to tip to the side and land on Lancelot's shoulder. He stiffens slightly beside you even as he leans his head against yours and you wonder if it’s the alcohol. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you have a fleeting thought that it’s strange for you to be so physically close with him, but it was gone as quick as it had come.

It seems that Lancelot's mind, however, lingers on it a little longer. "What are you doing?" He asks you softly, his voice almost a whisper and his words slightly slurring already.

"I'm relaxing." You state like it's obvious, noticing the same slur in your own voice. You take another drink as your eyes close before continuing. "Your shoulder is a really comfy pillow. And you're so warm." You find yourself leaning further into him as the cold wind blows against your mostly uncovered arms.

"(Y/N/N), people could walk right over here and see us like this." He says in that same soft tone, some emotion in his voice that you can't quite place in your current state of mind.

"So what?" You slur, finishing off your second drink. "'S not like we're doin' 'nything. Don' worry 'bout it, Lancey." The nickname you hadn't called him since you were nine slipped out without you asking it to, but thankfully, he doesn't acknowledge it.

You hear him sigh and you open your eyes to see him refilling his own drink and then yours, the bottle now empty. As you bring the chalice to your lips once more, you hear him speak so quietly that you're certain his words are only meant for his own ears, not yours.

"What am I going to do with you, huh?" The question is asked with a voice full of affection and you can't help but smile.

"Ya know, gettin' back to our rooms is gonna be a pain in the ass." You point out. "Next time, you gotta try an' find out how strong the stuff is before we drink it."

"Ah, shit." He curses and you snicker.

"Mmmm, maybe we can jus' sleep righ' here." You suggest, seriously considering it.

He lifts his head off of yours and you can't help but pout slightly as he starts shifting beside you. "We can't jus' sleep here, (Y/N/N). We gotta try and get to our actual beds." He reasons.

You groan as you sit up. "Ugh, why do you gotta be right?" You mumble.

He laughs softly as he sits up, leaning over your legs to nestle the empty bottle and now once again empty chalices into the corner of the balcony beside you. Seeing the action suddenly makes you wonder how he had even snuck any of it onto the balcony in the first place, but you're quickly distracted as Lancelot stands up.

He wobbles slightly as he does, reaching a hand out to steady himself with the wall, then he reaches a hand down to you. You grab it and allow him to help you stand, both of you taking a moment to gather your bearings and get used to standing. The world around you is wobbly and keeps going out of focus, but you have no choice but to force your vision to stay as clear as possible, as you will now have to walk quite a bit before you can get off of your feet again.

Simultaneously, you both step through the doorway and into the dining hall slowly and you squint at the brighter lighting, blinking quickly. "Here goes nothin'." Lancelot says quietly, and you both start making your way across the room as fast as your alcohol-infused brains will allow without either of you falling flat on your face. You manage to avoid catching the attention of anyone else in the room until about halfway to the doors leading to the hallway.

"Everything okay, (Y/N)?" Your dad calls from behind you and you freeze. Neither of you dare turn around, knowing that if you do, he'll immediately know what you and the blonde next to you have been doing. From your slow, uncertain steps to the bright flush that you just know is covering your face, your drunkenness would be completely obvious, and you know Lancelot is in a similar state.

You try to force your voice into some semblance of normal, trying to keep from slurring. "Yeah, F-Father, 'im fine." You tell him. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Lancelot nod his head in agreement with your statement.

Your dad gives a small hum as you blink and suddenly he's right beside you. Your eyes widen and you hear Lancelot choke before trying to cover it up with a cough. Your dad's expression is the same as always, just a casual, neutral expression that gives away none of his actual thoughts. However, in one of his hands is a bottle, and in his other is two empty chalices. None of the items ever had any special markings. Those could be any two chalices. That could be any old bottle of alcohol. But knowing your father, you know for a fact that they're the exact items that you and Lance had just left behind on the balcony.

You internally curse as you give your father an uncertain and sheepish grin. Your dad doesn't say anything else or react at all at first, but then he adjusts his hold on the chalices so that he can hold the bottle with the same hand as well, leaving one of his hands free. He suddenly gives his signature grin and his hand pats your back. It would've been a perfectly normal gesture except his hand comes down a little more forcefully than normal, causing you to stumble forward and almost fall on your face.

"Well, that's good! Go rest up, 'kay? We got a big day tomorrow!" He starts walking away but stops to do the same back patting move on Lancelot before he's moved across the room to do something else.

You and Lancelot turn to look at each other with wide eyes before you both turn forward and move as quickly as you can to get out of the room and into the hallway. Once the doors to the dining hall close behind you, you loop your arm with his without much thought to it, but you end up needing the support anyways as the two of you stumble through the halls.

Once you make it to your door, Lancelot starts to pull his arm away from yours, but you're quick to latch onto it again. "You gotta help me get to my bed." You whine softly, not caring much how you sound at this point.

He chuckles softly and the sound fills you up with a slight giddiness. "'Kay, fine." He says, pushing your doors open.

You both stumble into the room as the closing of the doors leave you in the very dim lighting of your bed chambers. You walk further into the room before your foot hits the corner of the long rug across the floor and you trip, falling forward. You yelp as you hit the ground and you hear a curse from beside you. You realize that you were still holding onto Lancelot's arm and had ended up dragging him down with you.

"'M sorry." You mumble quietly.

"'S fine." He reassures me.

You realize that you should probably get up now, but you're starting to get sleepy and your carpet is soft and you feel yourself sagging more into it. You look beside you to see Lancelot flipping over onto his back.

"Floor's comfy." He says softly.

You hum your agreement and after a moment of hesitation, you roll over and snuggle right up to him, your head going onto his shoulder and your arm throwing itself loosely over his chest and waist.

He gasps softly, freezing up, and you think for a moment that maybe you shouldn't have just done that. You're not really sure why you did it in the first place. Ever since laying your head on his shoulder earlier on, you had wondered what it would be like to snuggle all the way into his side, what it would be like to maybe even have his arms completely wrapped around you. You refuse to admit it right in this moment, but you’ve been wondering these types of things for awhile now, despite knowing you probably shouldn't. He’s your childhood best friend, you should see him as a brother, not as a potential romantic connection. But deep down you know that these feelings for him are inevitable considering you’ve had them for years. And so, when you saw him just laying there, you couldn't help yourself. It was like an instinct.

But now you’re wondering if he's been uncomfortable with you being all over him as you recall the way he stiffened earlier and the way he questioned your actions. You push away from him, opening your mouth and getting ready to apologize, when he suddenly beats you to it.

"No, wait-" His voice is suddenly filled with a strange sense of panic as his arm quickly curls around you and pulls you back against him, your head coming to rest on his chest this time, though neither of you voice any complaints. Your arm goes back around his torso as his stays curled around your waist. "Stay, please." He says in a tone of voice that even you very rarely hear from him. It’s pleading, vulnerable. Almost afraid, in a way. Of what, you aren't quite sure. But you aren't going to question him about it, not sure you'd even get an answer if you did.

"Okay." You try your best to pronounce the whole word, feeling it important to do so. "'M here." You say, trying your best to reassure whatever fears are currently nestled into that strange brain of his.

He suddenly turns onto his side and wraps his other arm around you as well, pulling you closer, your face in his chest and his face in your hair. The motion was quick, like he was in a hurry to do it. You relax completely, practically melting into him and the floor under you. You're completely surrounded by him and suddenly you want nothing more than to stay here for the rest of your life.

You nuzzle your face against his shirt as your eyelids start to droop. It's been a long day and the alcohol coursing through your system hasn't added to your energy at all. The last thing you hear before you fall asleep is Lancelot mumbling something that sounds like, "Smells nice." As he burrows his face further into your hair.

~*~

A/N: What do y'all think?? Please let me know!! I should have chapter 2 finished soon, there's going to be both a male!reader version of it and a female!reader version of it. Pronouns still aren't specified, but there's a certain part of the chapter that differs greatly depending on gender, tbh, so if you'd like to be tagged for the next chapter, let me know which version you'd like to be tagged for!! You can also ask to be tagged for both versions if you'd like to be!!! Thank you for reading!!!

~*~

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@kalopsiakey

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[pucksandpower]

Lance Stroll’s only crime is having a father who loves him

That was unnecessary. There're tons of people here and there come from wealthy family but their parents didn't fund them. Their dads don't love them then. We shouldn't do what we called out bro 🫰

No, what was unnecessary is putting words in my mouth. The truth of the matter is that the majority (note that the majority is not all) of formula racing drivers come from wealthy backgrounds because it is expensive at every single level. Oscar Piastri’s parents even estimated that they put $6.5 million into his career. But Lance Stroll is constantly targeted because of how his father has supported him and I do not think that is a remotely logical thing to bully someone over. Lawrence Stroll loving his son and using his resources to fund Lance does not somehow mean that other parents don’t love also their children

[autisticlancemcclain]

Beast.

That’s how everyone describes him. Town to town, village to village, whispered voices describing Prince Keith’s roaring temper and snarling fury. The manners of a lone wolf and attitude of an angry grizzly bear, those are the rumours. He’s vile, he’s mean, he’s ugly and horrible and rude.

And Lance is supposedly engaged to the asshole.

To be wed.

Is this really what he has to look forward to, in life? Trading himself away for his future husband's riches, essentially? A life of luxury and opulence in exchange for his soul? He might as well make a deal with the devil. He might be able to stay at home, then.

“We’re here,” Marco says softly. He pulls on the reins, stopping Blue – the McClain's horse – in front of the impossibly tall iron gates. He swings off the saddle, landing soundly on his feet before reaching up a hand to help Lance.

Lance snarls at him, heaving himself off himself and stepping away from his brother, busying himself with stroking Blue’s broad, soft nose.

“Lance,” Marco tries, sighing heavily. “C’mon. I know it’s not…ideal, but it’s a castle, right? I know you’ve always wanted to live in a castle.”

Lance grits his teeth, keeping his back to his brother. Rage makes his hands shake and clench where they’re wrapped around Blue’s mane, so he forces himself to relax.

“You don’t know anything about what I want. None of you do. None of you care enough to know.”

“Lance, stop it. You have to know that none of us wanted this –”

“There are four things I know, brother,” Lance spits, finally turning to face him. Marco starts at the anger in Lance’s expression, the vitriol in his tone. Lance stalks forward, and Marco takes a small step back on reflex. “I know that the town gathered to choose one young person to be engaged to the prince, as is custom.”

He takes another step, but this time Marco stays where he is.

“I know that every single person in the town, man and woman and child, made their vote.”

He takes one final step, milimeters between him and his brother, jabbing his finger into his chest. Marco remains where he stands, face stony.

“I know that there are nine other people besides me in my family. And I know that there were only three people in the entire village who didn’t vote for me.”

Finally his face crumples, anger finally giving way to the pain churning in his chest.

“I know that six of you at least decided I wasn’t worth keeping. And for that, you’re all dead to me.”

Marco says nothing. His face remains impassive, not even a glint of sympathy or even pity in his eyes. Nothing but stoicism. Lance thinks of how his mother had already had a bag packed for him when the results of the lottery were made public, how she wouldn’t look him in the eyes. How his father wasn’t even home to see him off. How he wasn’t allowed to see his niece and nephew one final time. How he heard his siblings arguing over who would have to escort him to the castle, how Marco had drawn the short straw.

His heart hardens in his chest. He averts his eyes, wiping his cheeks. He’s only embarrassing himself.

Lance wraps his hands around Blue’s reigns and guides her to the gates with him. “I’m taking Blue.”

“Wait, Lance, you can’t –”

Fitting, that Marco speaks now.

“Consider it my dowry,” Lance snaps, and slams the gate behind him.

He ignores Marco’s calling, taking the first turn he sees on the cobblestone paths to finally duck out of his brother’s sights. Marco won’t follow him past the castle’s gate, anyway, but he’ll give up faster if he can’t see Lance, and Lance is tired of hearing him. He deserves the walk home, anyway. Lance hopes it takes him a couple days. Maybe he’ll send Blue back when he’s in a better mood.

If he’s ever in a better mood. Seeing that he’s basically locked into a fancy prison for the rest of time, now.

“C’mon, Blue,” Lance mutters, tugging her along. She noses gently at the back of his neck, but trots along happily. “Let’s find you a stable or something, huh? I’m sure a fuckin’ stone from the ground of this place is worth the entire town. If they don’t have a stable, I'm rioting.”

Lance keeps grumbling as he guides Blue along random paths, stumbling over poorly-kept paths overgrown with roots and vines. “Some place this is, huh, Blue? Our cluttered kitchen is more organised than this place. What kind of rich asshole prince doesn’t pay a groundskeeper, or something? Weirdo.”

Blue neighs at him, looking at him in a way that’s almost chastising, if a damn horse can look chastising.

“I’m allowed to call him names! He’s basically forcing me to marry him because he’s too horrible for anyone to fall in love naturally!”

At another one of Blue’s looks, Lance huffs, kicking a random rock off into the distance. “Yeah, yeah, okay. I’ll be nice. But, like, proportionally. I’m not going to kiss his royal ass, or anything. I’ll just refrain from kicking him when I’m so inclined.”

This time Blue’s whinny is almost amused.

Lance maybe needs to see if there’s someone his age around here to make friends with, or something. He’s going batty if his only friend’s a damn horse.

“Oh, hey, that looks like a stable. No other horses, though. And how old is that hay?” Lance pokes at the pile, which disintegrates to nothing at his touch. “Well, that’s not very welcoming. What kind of castle can’t afford some decent hay?” He guides Blue gently into one of the admittedly spacious stable stalls, carefully untying her saddle and harness and hanging it on the wall. He guides her head into a thankfully full water trough, and then sets off in search of some food for her. He hums quietly as he peeks his head in each of the other stalls, then steps outside of the stable. “There’s gotta be something somewhere.”

But there really isn’t. Lance must look for twenty minutes before he finally gets frustrated, stomping back to Blue’s stall with his hands on his hips.

“This stupid place is barren,” he tells her. She lifts her head from the water for a moment to neigh softly at him, nudging him gently. He presses a kiss in between her eyes, then pats her on the side before stepping to the side. “I’ll find you something, though,” he assures. “I’ll be back in a bit, okay? I’m gonna poke around ‘til I find somebody.”

He takes his time strolling around the castle grounds, whistling to himself and poking through every door he finds. He finds several garden sheds full of old, rusty tools, and several gardens that are completely overgrown with weeds. Every window he looks through is so caked with dust and cobwebs that he can barely make out anything. Every side door has a lock that’s completely rusted shut.

“Am I in the wrong castle, or something?” he mutters to himself. All earlier feelings have completely faded in favour of confusion. He may not know much about princes and royalty and riches, or whatever, but he’s relatively certain that most castles don’t look so…run down. Tired. Old.

Abandoned.

Finally he makes his way around to what must be the front entrance, with doors several dozen times the size of him. He runs his fingers over the grain of the wood, feeling a surface much rougher than he expected, like wood that hasn’t been oiled in years. Several rose briars grow across the door, holding it shut. Lance has to jog back to one of the garden sheds and use a dull pair of garden shears to hack them away. (He feels bad for destroying such beautiful plants, but decides he’ll save the buds and make a flower crown for Blue later. She looks adorable in pink, so she’ll look like a horse fit for a prince once Lance has finished braiding the roses into her mane.)

He’s expecting the door to be jammed shut, like all the others he tried, so he gives it a very hefty shove to try to encourage it to open.

And then lands on his ass with a yelp when the door opens easily.

“I love my life,” he announces to no one but the dank, dark entryway. “It is so wonderful here. First I get married off to some rando without any input, and then this entire stupid castle exists. If one more bad thing happens to me I am going to simply cry until I dry out like a salami, and then I shall allow myself to be eaten by crows.”

Lance swears he hears a muffled giggle.

“Hello? Is someone there?”

No response.

“Okay, I’m a little kooky, but definitely not so much that I’m imagining people laughing at my truly excellent jokes. I won’t bite, you know. And I promise I’m very charming and only a little miserable about my situation.”

There’s another giggle. He’s sure of it, this time. He tries to follow the sound, but it doesn’t really get him anywhere, because this stupid castle apparently decided to splurge on the creepy and imposing factor and skimp on all the lighting. He stumbles forward, hands outstretched, seeing if he can find an oil lamp or something. Hell, even a stick he can light with the scattered matches he has in his bag. He finally finds what feels like a table of some sort, and runs his fingers over it – grimacing at the thick layer of dust – until he finds what he thinks is a candelabra, which is hilarious. The place can’t afford a rag to wipe off the surfaces, but it can afford a real-life candelabra.

“I hate rich people,” Lance says mildly, striking the match on the rough door and lighting the three half-melted candles.

“Careful with that match, kiddo. This place is really flammable.”

Lance shrieks, throwing the candelabra – the living candelabra! The talking candelabra! What the fresh fuck! – to the ground and scrambling backwards. The candelabra clatters to the ground with a curse – what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck – rolling a couple feet before straightening itself out and bending its arms to its centre as a man might bend his arms to put at his waist.

The candelabra has a face, in the wax.

“What the fuck is going on,” Lance whimpers. The candelabra’s face seems to soften. Lance fights back hysterical laughter at his own mental pun, even though it’s objectively hilarious. It’s not the time. Now is the time to freak the fuck out.

“Hey, hey, take a breather,” the candelabra says. It has a deep, smooth voice, that makes Lance think of those shiny knights in the stories his Abuela used to tell him.

“You are a talking candle,” Lance responds.

The candelabra huffs. (Can the candelabra huff? Does the candelabra have lungs to huff, or is it just an attitude thing? Did Lance hit his head on the way to the castle ground, and is now dreaming?)

“My name is Shiro,” the candelabra says. He smiles softly. “You must be the fiancé.”

Lance decides, right in this moment, that he’s just going to accept his weird delusions until he wakes up. It can’t hurt, right? Nothing can be worse than being married off to Some Guy, prince or no.

“That would be me,” Lance says, trying and failing to keep the bitterness out of his tone. “Mail-order bride, at your service.” Shiro makes a face, wax eyebrows furrowing, so Lance decides to take pity on him. “Yes, I’m the fiancé. My name is Lance.”

“It’s good to meet you, Lance.” Shiro blows out the candle on one of his arms and holds it out. Lance shakes it, wary of the hot wax. It’s not Shiro’s fault Lance is in this garbage situation. “I’m sorry there was no one here to greet you. Over the years we’ve gotten a little…lax, in our hospitality.”

“That would explain the general air of despair and misery.”

Shiro laughs again, brightly and fully. “You’re a witty one, aren’t you?”

“So I’ve been told. My suitors lined up along the block, you know. I’m sure Prince Keith had to fight them off with his bare hands. Shame he ditched before we could be properly acquainted. I suppose we have the rest of our lives to get to know each other.”

“I’m sure it’s not proper for me to laugh at jokes at the expense of my Prince,” Shiro says, in a way that tells Lance he is holding back giggles.

Lance is very proud of himself. He may never be the smartest or strongest person in the room, but he’ll be damned if he’s not the funniest.

“I’ll wear you down eventually,” Lance says, waving a dismissive hand. “Now, do I get to meet the coathanger butler and duster french maid, or are you the only talking furniture?”

———

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