#pretty blood lance

[axxy14]

Lance ^_ ^

[justguy13]

Rushy art of this idiots. B means Bullies

[anatomical-puppet]

you give me lance with canon draconic features, i flip my entire shit and go bonkers bananas. simple math

[as always this shitboy belongs to @abd-illustrates]

reblogs appreciated ^^

[rosiespokemontwitterau]

Lance the Birb-Master :3.

[pestopastaenjoyer]

I love Sonic/Lancelot as much as the next gal but as a fandom I think we are abusing the prospect of shadow/Arthur (as in like an alt universe version of sonic if you catch my drift). Shadow winds up in Camelot somehow and the real Lancelot has mysteriously disappeared. Arthur decides to trust shadow bcs like. I guess he can just tell if ppl are tbh or not???? (Can you tell I know nothing abt Arthurian legends???) Anyways something something plot plot blah blah blah Arthur ends up falling in love w Shadow bcs he’s very “forward thinking” and idk (I have no clue what to do w Guinevere here can you tell I’m grasping at straws). Anyways shadow kind of does reciprocate feelings but towards sonic because he’s been king of acting on his feelings for sonic via-Arthur and he feels very shitty abt it and. YEAGH. More plot I guess. Weird dilemma stuff I guess that would be scrumptious.

[pendragonsgallery]

Art from chapter 6 of my angsty Lance fanfiction, Asterism on ao3!

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: A New World {1}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: With the season over it's time to turn over a new leaf as you start your next adventure outside the Red Bull family. Warnings: 18+ only, sexual themes, fluff, periods, blood, vomit WC: 2k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World One || Two

Christmas Eve 2022 “I could get used to this,” you murmured happily. The sun was warm on your skin, the waves gently rocked the boat and you were with your favourite people in the world. 

“What, unemployment?”

You dared to open your eyes against the bright sunlight just to glare at Max as he stood on a paddleboard a few feet away from the edge. “Relaxing, you asshat.”

Lando rolled over at the disturbance but his eyes didn’t open before he settled back on his side and draped an arm over your stomach. “She’s got a job,” he mumbled half-asleep. “Lady of the House.”

“Lady,” Max snorted. “Good one.”

You sat up and stretched before getting to your feet, much to Lando’s displeasure. “Water looks nice.”

Max scanned the beautiful blue sea, spotting Charles kitesurfing where the wind was stronger beyond the lee. “It’s a little cold.”

“Even better.” You ran and leapt from the back of his boat, tackling him around the waist and knocking him off the paddleboard and into the frigid water. You were laughing as you resurfaced and found Max looking like a drowned rat as he tried to scramble back onto his board. 

“Fuck off,” he shivered as you shook the board everytime he got on it, Lando’s loud laugh upsetting the gulls that hung around hoping for scraps. 

“Nuh-uh, not until you admit I am a Lady.” You grabbed the board again and shoved it about. “Earthquake!”

“Sweetheart, stop harassing poor Max.” 

“Poor Max?” You echoed as you gave him one last push before tipping your head back to float on the surface. “I can’t believe my mum’s favourite child isn’t even her own.”

“I don’t have a favourite,” she said as she set down a tray of baking at the outdoor table, P quickly following as she smelt the fresh cookies.

“You should, since you only have me, your numero uno.”

She rolled her eyes at your dramatics and you wondered if that's how you looked when you did the same thing. “Come and eat, honey. Now that you have no job there’s no need for those strict diets.”

You pulled yourself up the steps off the back of the boat and Lando held your towel open for you, wrapping it tightly in his arms so you were bundled inside. “I have a job,” you said with a laugh as Lando’s drying tickled you.

“That’s not a job,” Max reminded as he stepped onto the boat and dragged the paddleboard onto the deck.

“Obviously. But, seriously, you are looking at an Aston Martin pilot.”

“That’s a bit of a risk,” Max said with a frown at the news. “Lance’s father is always going to put him ahead of you.”

“Well as long as he doesn’t try to kill me then it’s already an improvement,” you said with a small laugh.

Max sat heavily on the padded bench and dropped head in his hands. He was still struggling to accept that Jos had tampered with your brakes and taken the fuse for the water pump before your last race. He had been obsessed with having the Verstappen name on the winners trophy. 

Apparently he hadn’t tried to kill you, he was just trying to slow you down so Max would get the points he needed to win the championship. The brakes were meant to work too well, not stop working entirely. It didn’t change the fact that your own father had nearly been the death of you. 

“That’s not funny, love,” Lando muttered in your ear, his arms tightening around you as he remembered the crash and the fear he had felt that day. 

“No, but if I don’t laugh about it I will cry, and that’s not pretty.”

“I think you’re pretty,” Penelope said with a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie.

“Thanks, P, but no one is as pretty as you,” you replied and laughed when she smiled at the compliment.

“Mouth closed when we eat,” Max reminded her with a grimace at the sight of mushed food between her teeth.

You joined her at the table, grabbing a muffin from the tray and ruffling her hair. “I’m going to miss you tomorrow but I hope you have a good Christmas with your dad.”

“Do you think Santa will find his way? My stocking is at home.” She frowned and placed her cookie down. “What if I don’t get any presents?”

“Have you been a good girl this year?” She gave you a small nod after thinking for a moment. “Then he will find you wherever you are.”

Christmas Day 2022 The palatial mansion had gone quiet as everyone went their separate ways for the evening after the banquet. There was no way any one family could have hosted the Christmas get together since there were just too many people but the island destination worked perfectly. Charles’ family had arrived on his boat while Lando’s family had flown in on Max’s plane and they were all spending the next few days celebrating the end of the year with you.

“I never want to move,” you groaned as Charles rubbed your full belly. “I shouldn’t have had that last yorkshire.”

“Maybe it was the two bowls of dessert,” he teased.

“Or the bottle of wine,” Lando added, his hands massaging your feet that rested on his lap. 

“I didn’t eat that much,” you huffed as you looked at your bloated midriff that seemed to dispute your words. “Where were you two planning on sleeping tonight? I’m sure there is a dog box somewhere on the island.”

“But then who would do this when your stomach hurts?”

You groaned as a sharp pain stabbed your abdomen and sat up. “Fuck.” Pushing off the couch you rushed to the bathroom and crumpled in front of the toilet, emptying your stomach of everything you ate before flushing the evidence away. 

“Baby?” Lando nudged the door open and frowned you as curled your knees up and groaned in pain. “You didn’t eat that much…”

“It’s not the food,” you whimpered as the cramps grew stronger and Charles arrived looking worried at your condition. “Can you run the shower?” You could feel the blood running down your thighs beneath the dress and groaned at the timing. 

“Should I call for a doctor?” Charles asked as he helped you to your feet while Lando warmed the shower. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine,” you said, squeezing his hand as you doubled over in pain. Lando blanched as he saw the red streaks running down your legs and you saw the panic in his wide eyes. “It’s just my period.”

“What do we do?” he asked. “What do you need us to do?”

You would have smiled at the rushed words if you weren’t being crushed from the inside out. “Hot shower, clean clothes, painkillers, pads, cuddles and death.”

“You mean chocolate,” Lando corrected as he pulled his shirt over his head and kicked his pants off before stepping into the shower. 

Charles didn’t give you the option to walk yourself in after, carrying you straight under the rainfall of steaming water. The heat saturated your dress and the water turned pink as it swirled around the drain at your feet.

“You guys don’t have to be here for this,” you murmured as you felt a hand dragging the zip down your spine.

“Silly Spitfire,” Lando chuckled as he reached for the special shampoo made for you, lathering it up in his hands while Charles released the updo you had styled for the dinner party. “We promised to take care of you, didn't we? So let us.”

Max grunted a good morning to Charles as he entered the kitchen on Boxing Day and made a beeline to the coffee maker. Everyone knew Lando would sleep as long as he was allowed but Max frowned when you didn’t follow Charles in, his eyes lingering on the empty doorway expectedly.

“She’s not feeling very well,” Charles said as he placed his cup under the espresso maker. Though there wasn’t the comfortable atmosphere they used to share, they were on friendly terms after finding equal footing in their support of you and how your season ended. They were friends, just not best friends.

“Ah, goodluck, mate,” Max chuckled, returning to his half empty coffee and his phone he was checking the news on. “There’s some spare rooms if you need some space.”

“Why would we need space?”

“I love my sister, but you are going to be in for hell.” He winced at the memory of spending the holidays with you when you raced for AlphaTauri. “Happens every year.”

Charles snorted and took his mug with a shake of his head. “Thanks for the concern, but we’re good.”

You woke to the smell of coffee and found Charles sitting up beside you, reading something on his phone, while Lando snored softly in your ear. You had fallen asleep with their body heat easing the ache in your muscles and they were better than any heat pack you had used before.

“Good morning, ma chérie,” he said as he placed his phone down, noticing you were awake. After helping you to sit up against the headboard he grabbed a plate from the bedside table and placed it on your lap before grabbing a glass of juice. “Plain toast and iBuprofen.”

“Breakfast of champions,” you murmured sarcastically before taking a bite and smiling softly. “Thank you, babe.”

Charles kissed your temple before handing you the tablets and drink. “It’s just because it says not to take these on an empty stomach. Once Lando is awake we can get you anything you desire, even if one of us has to pop over to the mainland.”

“I’d rather just have you.” The words had slipped out before you even realised it and you shoved another piece of toast in your mouth. “Sorry, hormones.”

Lando’s dark lashes twitched where they fanned across his cheeks before they fluttered open and he stretched as he rolled onto his back. “What about me?”

You looked down at him in confusion as he rubbed his eyes. “What about you?”

“Would you rather have me too?” he asked with a lopsided smile as he used your thigh as a pillow.

“Are you always just pretending to sleep?”

“No, I just wake up when I hear something sexy.”

 Charles laughed as he combed his fingers through the wild mess of curls. “Why does that not surprise me, mon cher.”

“Well you can go back to sleep,” you said as you passed the empty plate back to Charles. “I feel disgusting, probably look worse, and don’t even try to tell me otherwise or I will cry.”

“Agree to disagree,” they said at the same time, sharing a small laugh. 

“I still think you are the most beautiful woman in the world, love.” 

“I can see that,” you teased as you looked down at the thin sheet that covered Lando’s lap. “You know what would make me feel better? You did promise me anything.”

Charles shifted beside you and his cheeks flushed pink as his mind ran wild with tempting thoughts. “Anything at all.”

Your tongue rolled across your bottom lip at the thought and their eyes darkened with each passing second. “I want to watch you two.”

“You sure you don’t want to join us?” Lando asked as his fingertip drew small circles on your thighs.

“Isn’t that gross?” you asked as you crinkled your nose and your legs closed tighter.

“It’s just blood,” Lando chuckled. “And red is Charles' favourite colour.”

You rolled your eyes but had to give him a little laugh as he eased the tension and Charles kissed his way down to your collarbone. “There’s nothing about you I would ever call gross. And you never have to be embarrassed with us, mi amor. We just want you to be comfortable.”

You swallowed at the sincerity in his voice but still shook your head. “I’m not brave enough today.”

“Okay, love,” Lando said with a kiss to your thigh before he sat up. “Then we will have to put on a show just for you, a late Christmas present.”

Click here for the next part.

[wispstalk]

Some writing advice for hunting, bc I see a lot of hunting scenes in fantasy that make me itch. More under the cut. Don't read if you're sensitive to blood-and-guts discussion or animal death.

Finding game:

- I don't hunt much these days bc I don't feel like getting my ass out of bed at shitfuck o'clock every weekend during the season. Which you have to do, because much of the time you come home empty-handed. Successful hunts come about when you're out there often.

- You don't really have to be a good tracker to hunt, but you do have to know the basics of your prey and you have to be able to interpret the landscape even if it's unfamiliar. It's less likely a tracker is looking for "bent blades of grass" or whatever and more likely they are noticing game trails, sheltered areas where nests and burrows are, a spot of thick vegetation which would indicate a water source.

- Scat and footprints are useful too ofc but to varying degrees. If I'm hunting deer it's just confirmation that they're in the area; more often I use knowledge of their habits to actually find them. If I were hunting something elusive and solitary like a cougar I would pay more attention to the tracks but that's also a reason people hunt with dogs!

Actually hunting:

- Bows are not the only hunting weapons, though would be most common in ur typical medieval fantasy type setting. Spears and lances, slings with stones, and clubs would also be used. And knives and swords but in this hunter's opinion, FUUUUCK that.

- Lung shot is a quick death. Heart shot and head shot too but that is much harder. Other shots might mean tracking a wounded animal as it runs away. This is where things like broken twigs/bent grass are especially telling, and ofc blood. Small game bleed out faster and won't get as far but you might spend quite a while running after an elk shot in the flank.

- This highly depends on the prey but hunting often involves more sitting around than people realize. I bring a small pad for my booty ass bc sometimes you'll spend hours in a strategic spot waiting for the game to pass by. Also hides (the shelter, not the skins) are a thing and most hunters would consider shelter-building an essential skill.

- Hunting seasons are not entirely a modern convention -- there are better times of year to find different animals. But there would be less concern, historically, about killing animals during the breeding season than we have today.

- Even when I was hunting regularly and more confident, I got a huge adrenaline spike EVERY time I had an animal in my sights.

Big game:

- A deer has a lot of meat on it and though it's not a bad thing to leave a carcass for scavengers, your party of two or three adventurers probably will not go to the trouble of hunting deer unless they have some nearby place to cache, preserve, or trade what they can't eat before it spoils. Are they leaving it behind or do they have some way to take full advantage of such a large kill?

- If your character gets a large game animal they're probably going to field dress it: deal with all the blood and guts on site, then quarter it so it can be packed back to the campsite or whatever. My dad is a big burly mutant man and he cannot carry a deer by himself. You can carry game on poles or horseback too but field dressing is pretty typical in a situation where u can't just fling it in the back of the truck and hang it at home.

- I grew up eating bear and when it comes up I'm often surprised how many people don't know that people hunt bear for meat. It's tasty imo, especially makes a good sausage

- I can hunt deer alone, though company is nice. I wouldn't attempt hunting something more dangerous by myself. Large animals especially are better taken down as a group effort. In the TES context for example it would be kind of insane to hunt horker alone. Not that some folks wouldn't try.

Small game:

- A character who subsists mostly on hunting is going to be eating a lot of small game. They are probably going to use traps and snares in addition to actually going out on hunts.

- Look up "rabbit starvation." Small game is often (but not always) lean and going without fat for a long time can cause serious health issues.

- I joke that you don't hunt turkey, you just go get one. Game birds are kind of stupid. I plan a deer hunt, but I have gone out and shot grouse on a whim.

Processing:

- Draining blood, skinning, plucking, butchering, dealing with all the bones and guts, storage and preservation: pretty time consuming and involved. It's a good excuse for social activity.

- The moneyed classes likely would not process their kills themselves, unless they're doing some kinda randyll tarly masculinity flex for the symbolism. Kitchen staff or a local butcher would handle it.

- A good skinning knife is kinda wide and short. Some game knives have a rounded tip which keeps it from puncturing the skin in case of accidental slippage.

- Skinning is done with a light hand bc puncturing the digestive system means you've poisoned the meat. I will say it is less difficult than I expected it to be the first time I tried it.

- We don't eat a lot of offal in the US but a deer liver, for example, would be considered prime meat by many and eaten first. Bear, walrus, and seal liver contain toxic amounts of vitamin A and would be thrown away.

- I've been told every animal has enough brains to tan its own hide, but I think there are some exceptions. It's definitely true of deer and elk. With small animals like rabbits it's hardly worth the effort of getting the brains out and other things can be used but brain tanned leather is soooo soft and nice.

- Hides and pelts are useful and valuable and would be kept or traded if circumstances allowed. You can tightly roll a hide to keep it from drying out before tanning, or you can freeze it, basically indefinitely. You can also air dry it once scraped clean and soften it later, which is what fur hunters would most likely do for efficiency's sake. Tanning is also so so so fucking gross imo. Really slimy process, and tanneries REEK.

That's all I can think of for now and this is already hella long but the takeaway is that it is generally a pretty involved activity and more impactful on lifestyle than I usually see depicted. So there ya have it

[vivwritesfics]

Could you pretty please write some more mafia!Lance Stroll pretty please 🙏🙏 (I am in the trenches, why is my fav so unpopular 😔😔)

Pls send more mafia Lance I love him so much

Her boyfriend was big and bad, always wearing a far too expensive suit, always carrying at least two guns, always with someone else's blood on his shirt.

So why the fuck was he calling himself Lancey Stolly?

It had her giggling as Lancey Strolly, as he called himself, pulled her closer, settling her on his lap as he pressed kisses to her face. To her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. Anywhere he could reach.

Her giggles were music to his ears. Giggles he was the cause of. Him, this big bad killer that so many people were afraid of. Only she got to see this side of him, only she got to giggle when his fingertips touched her skin his girl.

She had her head thrown back in a laugh, leaning back in her arms, when Lance straightened up. "Baby," he mumbled, and she looked up at him, her giggles paused.

"I love you."

They said it to each other far too often, but it was true. Lance really did love her with everything he had. He couldn't imagine his life without her.

"Lancey," she whispered, tugging gently at his hair as she leaned forward to kiss him.

She would have kept him there all night if sue could have. But Lance still had work. He had a weapons shipment to oversea, and his father would have killed him if he missed it.

He stood up, her still in his arms, his lips still against hers. "I gotta go," he whispered against her lips.

She pouted as she kissed him again. "Love you, Lancey," she mumbled as she unwrapped her legs from around his waist.

It was always a worry that Lance wouldn't make it back to her. But she couldn't think like that as she watched him go.

Her was her Lancey Strolly. And Lancey Strolly always made it back to his girl.

[ystrike1]

Ashe: the coveted maid - By Yoo Rang Baam (9/10)

This is a lovely yandere fairy tale. The art is fairly generic in some panels. It is short. If the art consistently matched the cover page it would be an instant classic. Two lost, unwanted young lovers take over a corrupt mansion. They're damaged, and devoted. There's mutual love and happiness galore, after the true heir dies a gruesome death.

Ashe is a pretty dummy. She's been sold to a certain family. The heir, Lance, is a giant perv. He uses his maids as his personal harem. Ashe is just another body.

Lance is handsome. Perfect. Most of his maids are noble women who are actively trying to marry him. His blue blood protects him from any and all consequences. Ashe fears him. She humiliates herself for him, but it's never enough.

Ashe is skittish and uneducated because her mother disliked her. Her sister was even prettier than her. Her sister married a wealthy man. She secured a huge dowry for her mother. Her mother put a huge amount of pressure on her. Told Ashe she somehow had to bring home more bacon than her super lucky Goddess of a sister.

She, of course, collapsed under the pressure. Her mother eventually sold her to Lance to make a buck.

Ashe eventually meets Tristan, the bastard son. He's sort of like her. Everybody treats him like a ghost. He must live in a secret basement. He is the son of a maid. Nobody really knows why he's still alive. Lance could have killed him, but Lance is evil.

He likes to taunt his brother, and leave him in squalor.

Eventually, Ashe and Tristan become lovers.

Lance hates his competition. He's the type of heir that knows he isn't that impressive deep down. All he has is his family name and money. He scarred Tristan to make him a monster. A tainted thing. He knows he's not that smart, so he calls Tristan a fake. He abuses his brother to make himself more powerful.

Tristan changes when he watches Lance abuse Ashe. He decides to let it all go. He cannot win. He wants to be happy. He tells Ashe he will run away with her, after he scrouges up some money.

He's free of the stupid chains Lance wrapped around him.

Her honest love saves him from life as an abused doll.

Lance falls down a cliff.

Now, I don't think this is a coincidence. The author specifically mentions that Lance abuses noble ladies. No doubt an angry father paid off his coachman and well...now he's even more horribly mangled than Tristan.

The house turns on Lance.

They lock Lance in the secret room, bloody and angry.

Ashe has no idea what's happening, but the house needs a leader. Tristan has been given the chance to take over.

He plans to marry Ashe (she was sold, but her mother is a noble)

Ashe runs to the secret room. Tristan used to see her almost every day. When he doesn’t visit for a week she panics.

When she checks his bed she finds Lance.

He stabs her eye out.

He has gone mad.

Why?

Well, everybody abandoned him as soon as he became disabled. He has no friends to speak of and his only good feature was his looks. One sign of weakness was it. He was deemed unfit and left to rot.

He stabs Ashe because she truly cares about Tristan, even though he has nothing to his name but kindness.

Tristan fetches his foolish love.

She tries to run.

She tells him she is ruined.

He laughs and says he will destroy anyone who dares to mention her disfigured face. She belongs by his side, proud and happy.

When they have their blowout wedding he wears lace over his scar from Lance. She wears lace too, to cover the missing eye Lance took from her.

They live happily despite his cruelty.

He definitely died off screen on Tristan's order, after he stabbed Ashe.

A tradition becomes the norm in the mansion. Every staff member and every guest must wear lace on their face. No one will ever see or comment on Ashe's face, or Tristan's. They are above reproach, and the lace masks represent them moving on. Forgetting about those who abused them.

Also, of course, it is a warning.

Any comments about the disfigured Lord or Lady will not be tolerated.

Beware.

It's not easy to anger the Lord of the house, but if you do you will lose.

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1

Steve had thought he already knew what delirium meant—remembers laughing hysterically in a Russian bunker with little say as to what bullshit came streaming out of his mouth.

But this is different. At least back then, the haze of the drugs made the pain temporarily float away, let him drift off into some form of blissful ignorance.

Now he feels it all. He’s hyperaware, can pinpoint each and every source of agony lancing through him; can even pick out the fact that the cut on his hand still throbs, the tar-like mud of The Upside Down stuck under his fingernails.

Sometime after he had fallen, the bats stopped coming. He doesn’t know why. Maybe they’ve had their fill. Maybe there’s nothing more of him left to take.

Sound comes to him as if filtered through a megaphone, loud and echoing. He hears a series of swears, yelling. Panting. The crash of a bicycle being thrown to the ground.

Eddie.

The words come pouring out, quicker even than the blood leaving him, a desperate chanting.

“Dustin, Dustin, Dustin—”

“He’s okay,” Eddie says. His face comes into view, pale and drawn, slick with sweat. No blood though, Steve thinks. No blood on him. That’s good. “He’s okay, you hear me? I didn’t leave him alone; the girls, they’ve—they’ve got him. Hey. Hey, Harrington, eyes on me. Dustin—he’s gonna be all right, man, I stopped the bleeding.”

“Good,” Steve gets out. I knew you could, I knew you could, you’re fucking incredible. “S’good. Hey, Eddie, he’s—think he’s gonna be really upset, ‘kay?”

“What do you—”

“But he has you,” Steve says. He hates the fact that his voice is slurring. If he can’t speak, how else is Eddie supposed to know that… “He has—you’ll help him, right? You can… play D&D, an’…”

Eddie’s laugh splits through the air. It sounds something like grief.

“Harrington, that’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

“No, it’s not,” Steve insists. There’s blood in his mouth, in his throat; he tries to swallow without choking, to talk around it. “It’s—you make him happy, Eddie. Don’t you know? You make him s-so damn happy.”

“Shut up.”

Eddie’s breathing has an odd, thick sound to it, and Steve realises with a distant wonder that he’s crying. Crying over him. What a strange thing…

A series of sharp claps cut through everything; Steve blinks, can’t remember his eyes closing to begin with.

Eddie’s face is suddenly very close. His lips are shaking.

“Wake up. Now you’re gonna fucking listen to me, Steve Harrington. We didn’t go through all of this fucking bullshit, just for it to end here, you understand? I said, do you understand?”

“Are you mad at me?” Steve breathes. A far-off part of him insists that this is such a silly thing to ask, but he can’t help it. Everything hurts, and he has a sudden, awful burst of clarity: that he doesn’t want to die thinking that Eddie hates him. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

Eddie’s face crumples. “No, Steve,” he says haltingly, like he’s trying so hard to keep his voice from breaking. “I’m not mad at you. J-just. Scared.”

And then for a terrible moment, Eddie disappears. Steve tries to turn his head to search for him, but he can’t—

The sound of someone retching.

Oh, Steve thinks. Oh, it’s because of me.

“H-hey. Hey, Eddie, it’s okay, it’s okay. Don’t look.”

He hears Eddie spit harshly.

“Jesus Christ, stop talking, Harrington.”

And then Eddie is right there again, his hands just hovering, not touching.

“Steve,” he whispers, but Steve gets the feeling that he isn’t actually talking to him, not really. “God, I don’t—don’t know what to do.”

“You’re back,” Steve says, almost dream-like, and when Eddie laughs, this time it’s a pretty sound.

“Yeah, I’m back. Like a bad penny.”

“No,” Steve murmurs, feels like he’s floating somewhere—feels perhaps that he shouldn’t be, but he can’t help it. “You’re beautiful.” Eddie’s eyes soften, and that probably should be a nice sight, Steve thinks, except for the fact that, for some reason, Eddie also looks like his heart is breaking.

There’s something soft being wrapped tightly around his hand, and it stings, but that’s okay, because when Steve glances down, he can discern just enough to see that it’s Eddie’s bandana.

And it’s a nice thought, that he can still feel this. Can still feel something of Eddie’s trying to heal him.

“Right, big guy, up and at ‘em.” Eddie’s hand in his, the clack clack clack of the metal rings.

Oh, he’s shaking, Steve thinks.

Then he realises what Eddie’s planning to do.

“Eddie, m’sorry, can’t—can’t walk, jus’—”

“Shut up,” Eddie says again. “I’m gonna carry you.”

“But that’s—s’too much. M’too heavy.”

“No,” Eddie says simply. “C’mon, on three.”

But Eddie’s a liar and moves him on two. That’s all right, Steve thinks. He knows that kind of trick, knows that Eddie’s pulling out all the stops for him.

Doesn’t stop him from screaming, though.

“God,” Eddie whispers, and Steve already knows this isn’t for him to hear, but he can’t shut it out. “Fuck, I think I’m killing you.”

You couldn’t, Steve wants to say. Wants to tell Eddie not to worry. You couldn’t ever hurt me.

But he can’t stop screaming.

“S’too much,” he moans.

“No, come on,” Eddie says. He’s straining, still walking. Not giving up. “Hey, Steve, just a few more steps. We’re almost home.”

Oh, you liar, Steve thinks. Wants to smile. Wants to cry. You beautiful, beautiful liar.

“S’too much,” he says again, and he hopes Eddie gets what he means, this time. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie says, and there’s a whine in there that hurts—like Eddie’s crying again. “Steve, don’t—hey, just keep talking to me. Don’t—please.”

Another step. Eddie tugs, pulls him closer and—

Steve gasps, feels a tear, right through the centre of him, through all of him, hears a dreadful scream—

And then nothing at all.

[justguy13]

Yeah, i'm headcanoning this crossover duo as buddies

[sg-l]

ραηтιєѕ・NSFW Drabble

Fandom・Mashle: Magic and Muscles Character(s)・Lance Crown Tags・femdom!Reader, handjob, panty kink, hinted incest (it's Lance so), cum eating, cock & ball torture, unedited

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With a delicate touch that gave him a shudder just as you drew your fingertip down the underside of his cock, Lance was immensely powerless at that very moment with you between his legs. Veins bulging with blood as they ran up and down either side of his aching dick. Slimy precum that drooled down his shaft wasn't enough to alleviate the stomach churning ache you worsened in him when you gathered up a bit of the stretch fabric and pulled it even tighter into a knot at his base.

Cock bobbing with the shudder that ran up his spine. Purple swollen tip glistening with what meager bits of precum that could make it past the constricting knot of panties around his base. The elastic waist band tightened under your control. Making him even more sensitive as he throbbed to the simple sensation of air touching his poor cock.

"Aww..." You took away all forms of attention. Drawing out a pathetic distasteful mewl from that man in front of you, "Bet you wish those were your sweet little sister's panties around your cock don't you?" Before he could think to reply, your fingers curled around the bulbous head of his cock just to give a playful squeeze. Earning the only reply you needed, which was a lowly moan from the stoic man, "But my panties will have to do, won't they you perv?"

Pumping your fist over his gruelingly sensitive tip. Sloppy wet noises filling the small space between the two of you as you massaged his slimy mess into his dick. Lance's legs shifting and bucking himself up when the agonizingly slow handjob wasn't cutting it.

"How selfish of you," You tightened your fist just to watch a bead of beautiful precum bubble up at his slit, grinning up at Lance when you pressed your thumb into his tip and rubbed the excess around, "Doing this all for yourself? For your own pleasure? That's so selfish of a man who does things for others now, isn't it?"

"N-Not- Selfish-" All he could manage through baited breath when he struggled to fill his lungs with more air. Lance squirmed around under your touch only to find himself drowning in pleasure. Unable to even think much more when you began jerking him off.

His disgusting noises filling the room. Paired with your snide remarks only rubbed worse into him when you'd giggle and comment on how pathetic he was being after he was the one to ask you for this. Hand milking away at the slimy mess pouring from the his slit. Lance's panting growing tenfold the second those pretty boy blue eyes rolled to the back of his head. The knot of panties constricting his cock wouldn't stop him when you pushed him over the edge. Even with such a tight thing making his cock pulsate, Lance was powerless as the first little sputter of cum landed on his tummy.

Unlike how you'd promised him you'd undo the bindings when his orgasm crashed over him. Simply pumping your sticky wet hand over his dick as he wiggled and writhed under you seemed to be enough. Lance's stomach painted in ropes of thick white cum. Balls draining themselves to the simplicity of your hand wrapped around his cock like a true perv. He was left a cum covered mess with a cock still swollen and red from the panty themed cock ring you'd cinched around him ages ago when this all started.

Panting and unaware of your actions. Lance gave a protestful moan as you untied his cock. Unable to open his eyes just yet but feeling when you swiped up the fabric of your panties all along his tummy. Before he knew it, Lance was met with the powerful scent of your used underwear and the slimy mess of cold cum you'd very clearly wiped off of him.

"Clean em off ya perv." You instructed while forcing the crotch of your dirty cum stained panties into his mouth.

Greedily Lance took as much of the pungent fabric into his mouth. Salivating all over them even if meant infusing his mouth with his own cum. The mixture intoxicating. Eyes closed and head tipped back as he nursed on the fabric.

Yanking them from his mouth, you ignored him when he groaned in protest. Lance finally opening his eyes to see you flipping out your panties and pulling them back on up under your skirt. Just the opposite of when he'd watched you'd slipped out of them early.

With a wink and a finger up against your lips, you shushed him just in case, "I won't tell anyone you like my panties more. As long as we get to play again."

Before he could realize what you meant by that exactly. It was an extra step of flustered panic when Lance realized you put your panties back on to leave. He jerked forward to get you to stop but was quickly reminded of the other article of clothing you'd tied him up with, "Wait- Wait I'm still tied up you can't-"

Finger to your lips and a grin, you shushed him once more with no sign you were going to come back and untie the Crown heir, "Bring em back washed next time and maybe I'll let you touch my boobs."

[russellsppttemplates]

I came across some videos of bf and gf trying period pains simulator at the same time and the difference between how the guys react and the girls react are almost funny. Like, the guys are there fighting for their lives and the girls are like yeah that's pretty accurate. I know Lance's arc is the one this relates the most to, but it actually got me imagining Pierre and Charles doing something like this. Or should I say their gf making them try at the same time as them to gauge their reactions. They'd have new level of empathy for their girls after this, I'm sure!

Cw: periods (pain, blood, medications), curse words

Note: I'm currently on my cycle, so the increase of empathy for these things is very much relevant

"Well, you're always wondering how they feel, so I got this machine thingy that apparently simulates period cramps", you added as Charles sat next to you on the sofa, "how do I know you're not bullshitting me?", he mused, "this can gave two people at the same time, so I'll also be feeling like you feel", you explained.

Grabbing the small stickers, you put them in your lower abdomen before doing the same to Charles, "now you're just feeling me up", he teased, "it's nice, can you blame me?", you smirked, making sure it was properly sticked on.

"Ready?", you questioned before turning it up, starting lightly, "Oh, are you sure they are this bad?", Charles groaned, holding his stomach and curling around himself, "That's not even the worst, Charles!", you offered.

"Okay, give me the worst, I'm ready!", Charles psyched himself before nodding, Ready to accept whatever pain went through him, loudly yelling when you turned it up, "Argh! Stop stop stop!", he pleaded as you turned off the machine, "how can you be so calm?".

"I'm used to it, amour. I've had my period since I was 11, and they were only pain-free for about a year or so", you offered, shrugging your shoulders, "and you didn't even experience it for a long time, with blood and changes and accidents", you said as you removed the sticker pads.

"Everything you need, amour, in that time of the month, you let me know and we'll do just that", he pulled you in to have a cuddle, kissing your forehead multiple times, "your body goes through a lot monthly, amour, so many hormones and medications. I mean, can you even take anything that completely takes the pain away?".

"Sometimes, it isn't that bad all the time. I've tried the pill, but it made me feel weird because of the hormones and I stopped", you reasoned, "it was just finding what worked for me and working with it", you shrugged your shoulders. It was truly something you knew you had to deal with, so you made peace with it pretty early on.

"I love you, Y/N. You're the best", he said, kissing your forehead repeatedly and rubbing your tummy, "you're the best".

(Thank you for your submission ✨️)

[lumiconic]

" first kisses "

✧ kunikuzushi, shikanoin heizou, yae miko, childe, collei, albedo ; fluff ; 5.6k words

✧ collei ended up being way longer than the others haha

  kunikuzushi has voiced his discomfort with touch many times, when you took his hand in the darkness of an underground cave, or patted him on the back after he negotiated out of a sticky situation, and every time you let go instantly without question, and didn’t touch him again for days and days. and yet now, he finds himself longing for the caress of your hand, wondering what it would feel like to kiss you.

   it’s a bit troubling, and he crushes the instinct every time, but it always comes back, wandering into his mind at the worst of times; in the midst of battle, you spin after lancing a treasure hoarder through the chest, and all he can think is how beautifully a spray of blood frames your face, leaving him motionless in the air for a moment, just enough time to be slammed to the ground, skidding through the dirt with the wind knocked out of him.

  you shout his name, panic lacing through your tone, and he curses himself for his stupidity as you spin a flurry of blows against his attacker before rushing to his side. he struggles to a sitting position, wincing as he fights to draw air in. how could he do something so dumb? to be distracted by you of all things while fighting? you, that stupid [name] who is so – who is nothing more than a hindrance, but –

  and then he’s struck dumb again as you kneel over him, inspecting for wounds without touching his skin even for a second. he wants to run his hand through the strands of your hair, left in a messy state and hanging softly around your jaw. you locate a bruise on his leg and dig for a salve in your pocket, unscrewing the top and handing it to him.

“jeez, what the hell was that?” you say, affection and irritation mixing in your voice. “how’d you get so unfocused, huh? we’re in the middle of a fight! you can’t just drift off like that and leave yourself open.”

the words wildfire frustration through his blood, anger that he can’t explain. how dare you act annoyed by his mistake when you caused it in the first place? “it’s your own damn fault,” he spits, voice more venomous than usual. he regrets it when your eyes widen and you look almost hurt, then confused. “wait, what? what did i do?”

  what did you do? he repeats the question in his mind. it’s more like – it’s just, it’s what you won’t do that’s driving him insane, and how you don’t even notice – how can you be so oblivious to his internal dilemma? the way he looks at you, even he knows it’s so far beyond the sharp rivalry you enjoy, or even friendship.

"you – i got distracted by you,” he says, and hates the way his voice cracks, hates how your face softens when you hear it. “because your face is – it’s – ” so unfairly pretty “ – so – so ugly, and – ” he can feel his blazing red blush raising. “ – and i couldn’t focus, damn it!” he finishes. “so change how you look or – or just shut up about it.”

  you look shocked for a moment, and then understanding appears on your face, the kind that makes him even more angry for reasons he can’t explain even to himself, and you half smile at him, hesitating for a moment before tucking a flyaway strand of dark hair behind his ear. he flinches away from the sudden touch and you jerk your hand back, mouth already opening, but then –

  then he catches your wrist, holding it where it is. and you both sit there for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes. your eyes, that are full of feeling and thought and human emotion, and he can only imagine that you see your reflection in his own fathomless irises, as cold and empty as a puppet’s black button eyes.

“kuni,” you say in a hushed voice. he can feel the pulse of your wrist, quick as a rabbit’s, and his own breathing is suddenly coming fast and shallow. the moment stretches out, some expression of surprise and hostility frozen on his face, and yet he can feel his own yearning. the pain in his chest as his eyes flick down to your lips. you swallow, tilting your head to catch his gaze. his face flames even brighter, but there is no mockery or judgement in your expression; just a soft, understanding longing.

“can i kiss you?” you ask softly, and his heart is in his throat, fear that mingles with aching, and there is nothing in the world he wants more in this moment than you. before he can think twice he gives a quick, tiny nod.

  you move closer, and he smells your gentle, clean scent that reminds him of rain or orange blossoms; the smell that curls through his dreams, and he has a second to think you even smell pretty, before you press your lips to his, and then he’s not thinking anything at all but there is a drifting, incoherent feeling of plain, serene happiness that he has not felt in a long time.

  shikanoin heizou has kissed people before; he’s kissed lots of people, more than he thinks is socially acceptable. he’s kissed most everyone he wants to. almost nobody can stand up to the full power of his charm and charisma, with his boyish good looks and the boundless intelligence behind his jade green eyes; sometimes just a single wink can do the trick.

  kissing is entertaining, for him, there’s no deeper emotion behind it. just something to do when you want to have some fun. he’s flirtatious, and maybe irresponsible, but it doesn’t cause anyone any harm, these shallow feelings that entwine with his playful, immature desire. he’s never wanted someone before. never felt a deeper pull than the one in the moment that can be satisfied with just a moment of contact.

  until now; until he met you; and now he is consumed by the dream of what your lips feel like. you are elusive, and enigmatic, and the most beautiful person he has ever met, with soft and sweetly knowing eyes that are earnest and yet unreadable to him in a way that no one he’s met has been before. it’s a foreign feeling, this yearning, and he wonders with a twinge of guilt whether he has taken this role for another person before with his casual inclination to flirt.

  he’s sitting beside you, leaning against a tree with his elbows balanced on his knees. you’re toying absentmindedly with a flower, tearing the petals off one by one, and his gaze is determinedly on the sky and not the way the light glints on your long eyelashes.

“do you think you’re a good kisser?” you ask suddenly, eyes still fixed on the flower as you open your palm and watch the soft petals flutter away in a breeze. his gaze flicks to you, and he’s taken off guard, but only for a moment. “depends on your definition of good,” he says evenly. “i’ve had a lot of practice.”

you laugh so hard you have to steady yourself, and it wounds his pride just a bit. he can’t tell if you’re making fun of him. you take a deep breath and then smile at him, eyes sparkling with some private joke.

“i’ve heard,” you say. “you’ve got no shortage of admirers here in inazuma, huh?”

“or anywhere.” he gives a small bow, and you laugh again. the sound sends a burst of satisfaction through him; a tiny victory, maybe. he always feels as though he’s accomplished something meaningful by making you laugh.

  you go silent, looking at him with a small grin that is, as always, indecipherable. he shudders as a tiny gust spirals up his spine, but keeps his eyes on you, trying to maintain his composure.

“what about you?” he questions, balancing his head on his hand, in as even and cool a voice as he can manage. “are you a good kisser, [name]?”

your smile grows. “good enough,” you reply easily, stretching out your legs and yawning. “probably better than you. why? do you wanna find out?”

  he swallows. his palms are slick with sweat, and he clenches his fingers into fists, taking a beat before he opens his mouth. you watch him without a word, looking more serious than you did before.

“yeah,” he answers. his voice is hoarse, but the easiness of the word is almost surprising. after everything, it was this easy? if he had known that – that the key to gaining this opportunity was simply to flirt like he did with so many others – ?

but no. you are different, somehow, almost off limits unless you initiated the interaction. he wants nothing less than to overstep with you.

  he repeats his assent, clearing his throat, and your eyes light up, sending a shiver of anticipation down his spine. you lean in, and he closes his eyes, and –

  and, your kiss sends him dizzy; you taste like the sweetest strawberries in the height of summer, and your lips are softer than he could have imagined. for that moment, there is nothing more than you and him in the world. he could float away on this high, like dandelions on the wind.

  you pull away first, and he fails to steady himself for a moment, face flushed with surprise and heat. you’re really so lovely, he thinks, barely able to put together that one clear thought; your face is knowing, and your mouth still slightly open. you swipe your thumb across your lip.

“i – ” he stammers. you smirk, tilting your head, and he swallows. “i’m definitely a better kisser than y-you,” he says, trying to regain his posture, but with you so close, your eyelashes nearly brushing his cheek, he can barely think straight, let alone speak with his normal wit and charm.

you roll your eyes at his attempt to recover. “you still think so?” there is laughter in your voice, mocking but not quite malicious. he nods, wiping the back of his hand across his face, and opens his mouth again – only to be silenced with a second kiss.

  maybe … maybe, you actually are better than him, he reflects silently as you cup his face, deepening the kiss. not that he really has a problem with that.

  yae miko wears the same teasing smirk every time you see her at the shrine, a smugly knowing expression of pure superiority that both irritates and captivates you. she takes every opportunity to demonstrate the sheer amount of knowledge she possesses over you, reveling in the way she’s able to shut you down with only a few words, then covering her mouth and laughing daintily, eyes crinkling with mirth as you scowl.

  of course, you can’t be entirely displeased with your situation, as she does instruct you properly in what to do. you know that there are many who would give their right arm to be in your place working underneath her, and indeed you do have a prestigious position as one of the attendants at the shrine. but she seems to enjoy exerting her power and intelligence a bit too much.

  you can’t decide whether you’re flattered or just plain annoyed by the attention she pays you, the way she seems to delight in your crestfallen face as she clicks her tongue, shaking her head with a mix of condescension and disappointment that paints her in melancholy, but the sparkle in her dusky purple eyes gives her away.

  this time is no different; after waking up late, then sprinting as fast as you could from your small house in the countryside, then climbing the enormous mountain as quickly as you could to reach the shrine, you’re suffering through yet another lecture for the mistake you made while your head was still clouded with sleepy panic. you deserve it, technically, but – extenuating circumstances don’t seem to matter at all to her.

“ah, [name], yet again you’ve brought the wrong talismans,” she says, tilting her head and cupping her cheek. “goodness, how many times will it take you to collect the correct ones? you’re acting shockingly unexperienced. i’m starting to wonder whether it isn’t on purpose. do you really value your job so little? if that’s the case, i may have to replace you … ”

  you can practically hear her honeyed laughter as you stare at her, pink lips quirked into a secretive half smile. you look away, then back, sinking into a deep bow and keeping your eyes squarely on the ground so she can’t see the anger bubbling in them.

“please, lady guuji, i’m sincerely sorry for my mistake,” you utter in as apologetic a tone as you can muster. “i promise on threat of losing my job that it won’t happen again. this morning was especially hectic, and i’m very sorry for it.”

  her eyes brighten and she nods, gesturing you up. you raise your head, expression steady, but there’s still a hint of frustration that must show, because her gaze grows a bit darker with displeasure. you brace yourself for another apology, but when she speaks she almost sounds saddened.

“oh dear, you look so troubled.” she closes her eyes, shaking her head. “you know i’m only hard on you because i care, right … ?” her voice is soft, and she twirls a lock of hair around her finger as she talks, “i know it must be frustrating having to hear my criticism all the time, but it’s not for no reason. i simply want to see you succeed, and i do believe you can achieve great things … with my help.”

you’re shocked by what she’s saying; she’s never praised you or offered any genuinely encouraging words before, and her tone is nothing short of caring. you can almost accept her words as genuine, if not for the teasing glint still in her eyes. “okay,” you say quietly.

she blinks. “[name]!” there is some blend of hurt and shock in her voice. “you don’t believe me?” you stay silent, which is apparently enough of an answer for her, and she presses one hand to her chest. “my goodness, have you thought i simply disliked you this entire time?”

  she looks genuinely disturbed and wounded for a moment at your silence, and then – smooth as silk, it melts into a knowing smile.

“you must know that’s not the truth,” she almost purrs, taking a step closer. “i have nothing but appreciation for your hard work, and hold you in high regard … truly, it’s so hard for me to believe that you were of such an outlandish opinion.”

you open your mouth, but she presses one finger against your lips. heat rushes to your face from the contact. her eyes gleam. “really, i don’t understand how it could have turned out like that with all of the special attention i pay you … maybe i should have been more forward from the beginning, hmm?”

  she leans in and kisses you, and your eyes fly wide open with surprise before closing as she presses closer. her eyelashes are long and tickling your cheek. her mouth is so soft. she tastes like – like some archaic tea blend, the gentlest sweetness and bitterly fierce at the same time, and you’re so shocked she’s kissing you that you can’t even think straight.

  and then it’s over, as suddenly as it began; a spark flicks over your lips as she pulls back, one delicate hand on her chest and giggling softly at your dumbstruck expression. you touch your mouth, and she laughs harder at the disbelief on your face.

“oh, [name] … such a naïve and unexperienced cutie,” she says, and this time hearing your name on her tongue and her calling you unexperienced sends not vexation but a shock of excitement down your spine.

  childe keeps his affection for you no secret. he never has; somehow, he missed the memo to be cagey and quiet about his feelings, and instead every person in the nation of liyue (and probably beyond) knows about his “love”, as he calls it, “for beautiful and elegant [name], for whom i would buy everything in the harbor just to win a single smile from their pretty face.” you have a suspicion that tonia is writing scripts for him.

  he is everything but quiet, loud and brash and bold in everything he does. to you, he is shining and happy and gleeful, always laughing and offering you things, endlessly smiling. you have never seen that expression leave his face once; he is a shallow man to you, nothing but a flatterer with all glitter and no substance. you have never felt anything romantic towards him, but he continues trying.

  you’re picking sweet flowers and jueyun chilis one day, shrouded in autumn’s gold and amber leaves, but the cover of the trees does not shield you from the sight of approaching fatui agents. one brandishes a knife, flickering in and out of sight, and another holds a cannon. both are outfitted in armor, while you have no weapon or protection.

“w-what do you want?” you stammer, holding up your hands defensively. the man with the knife’s red eyes glimmer. “pay your dues,” he snarls, and advances closer with swift movements.

you hold nothing but flowers, and your heart is thrumming in your ears as flame licks at your feet and arms, causing you to wince with pain. you’re caught, you don’t have any money, and there’s nowhere to run.

  and then, he appears; red half-cape thing you’ve mocked so many times billowing in unseen wind, his eyes glowing menacingly. for a moment, you’re afraid of him, but his face softens when he sees you, nodding as if to say he’ll handle it, and an unfamiliar feeling of relief rushes through you. then he turns his attention on the fatui, expression hardening back into anger.

"what is going on here?” he says, voice thundering with barely restrained fury. the fatui go silent and still at the sight of him, a fact that confuses and almost scares you, but you’re too busy scrambling behind him to think about it. the fatui drop to their knees. “lord tartaglia,” the hydrogunner says mechanically, “we were simply collecting mora from this citizen – ”

  he sweeps his hand, and the man instantly is quiet.

“leave, now,” he says. the fatui protest for a moment, but he flicks his wrist and a long blade made from glimmering blue water appears in his grasp. he spins it casually, with deadly skill, and says, “do you really want to test your skills against me? this is an order. i won’t ask again.”

  the fatui go silent, then bow and vanish simultaneously, and you both release a breath. almost immediately, his threatening aura is gone. your heart is still pounding.

“[name],” he starts, turning and rubbing a hand down his face. “are you alr – ”

  you cut him off by throwing yourself into his arms and kissing him; he makes some startled, half muffled noise and you have to choke back a laugh. once he recovers his balance, he leans into it, with the easy confidence you would have expected from him, and yet … something about him is holding back; you can feel it in the grasp he takes on your hips as you cling to him, his hold light and ready to let go at any time.

  when you pull away, he’s smiling with a tense mix of giddiness and anxiety. you’re suddenly struck with self consciousness, looking away and tucking your hair behind your ear. you can’t believe you just did that. he rescued you, in a way, and it felt like – for the first time, you were seeing him as more than just a bored friend with too much free time. like he actually cared about you. like you meant something to him, something important.

“does this mean you – ” he says. his voice cracks just a bit and he cuts himself off. you cross your arms over your chest, managing to keep your expression even, and thankful that your hair covers the sides of your head; you can feel fluster coloring your ears bright red. “it means whatever i say it means.”

“so? what do you say it means?” he asks, meeting your eyes with a rueful look on his face. there is some measure of resignation there, something that says i know how you’re going to answer, and you decide to prove him wrong.

“it means i like you, moron,” you say before you can hesitate, and as his eyes – blue as the sea, and empty as its cavernous depths, but archons they really are beautiful – widen you pull him into a hug and bury your face in his shoulder, still trembling slightly from the stress of the encounter.

  he says your name, and somehow this time it carries weight behind it in a way it never did before. but you only close your eyes, taking in his scent, a mixture of dried flowers and ocean spray, that you never found comforting until now; now, you hope you’ll never leave the embrace of his arms, and something about the way he holds you makes you think if that was what you wished, you could stay like this forever.

  collei has bright, sparkly eyes, the color of amethysts; she has a smile that appears on her rosebud mouth with the grace and loveliness of a blooming flower, and a voice like a sweet, chirpy dove. she is pretty; even beautiful, but – you could never say it, not to her or anyone else. maybe it’s the trust in those shining eyes when she looks at you. or the way she grabs your palm, her hands warm, as she pulls you to the newest patch of blossoming florets.

  it’s like she’s sure of the fact that there is no secret in the world you hold from her, even though this one – your heart pounding when you hear her laugh – is the biggest you could be possibly hiding. you won’t tell her, you swear to yourself, that you love her, because that’s what it is, really. it’s love, plain and simple. you won’t tell her, because she’s too good for you and she’d never reciprocate.

  but this furious heartache, leaving you staring into space to dry out tears, is – well. it’s far from pleasant, but as long as you keep seeing her smile, you …

“you’re zoning out again,” she scolds, waving her hand in front of your face. you startle, blinking, then bow your head and apologize sheepishly as her disgruntled expression comes into focus. “ah, sorry collei, i was just … thinking.”

“i’ll give you something to think about,” she giggles, irritation replaced by excitement. “how ‘bout that?” she points at the sky, and you look up at the gathering grayish blue storm clouds. “we’ve got a rainstorm rolling in!”

  she loves bad weather and rain for some reason you’ve never understood. you wrinkle your nose, pointing out it’s monsoon season. the storms can flood through entire sections of the forest; if you stay on low ground where you are, the two of you could be drowned.

“we’re too far from the village to turn back now, what should we do?”

she taps her chin, thinking. “let’s … let’s head to the deeper part of the rainforest and climb a tree, so we’re high off the ground and just wait it out.”

you salute, smiling at her quick thinking. “you’re the boss.”

  in the time it takes you to reach the thicker sections of the rainforest and locate a suitable tree, the rain’s already started, seeping through your forest ranger’s clothing. she quickly constructs a makeshift umbrella out of thick leaves and sap, sliding it into the crook of two of the tree’s limbs. you watch her work, fast and capable; she really has grown from the childishly fumbling amateur she used to be. you take a seat underneath when it’s finished.

  she sits cross legged, with her face tilted up to the sky, eyes closed as raindrops burst over her skin and slide down her cheeks. she looks peaceful and happy. you’re curled into yourself, the chilly rain soaking you to the bone, and are about to comment on her stoicism when her serenity is broken by a violent shudder.

instantly, you peel off your jacket and tuck it over her. “you’re gonna catch your death of cold if you don’t get under here,” you say, pulling her underneath the umbrella. she sputters, but her teeth are chattering hard enough to break up her words into staccato.

“b-b-but [name], you’re gonna be c-cold too if you don’t have your jacket,” she protests, but you shake your head. “you’re colder, plus you made the umbrella, so just take it, alright?”

  she looks at you, eyes wide with such a cute expression – surprise, sincerity, gratefulness – you almost forget how to breathe. you look away and sit back against the tree, breathing slower, trying to preserve the heat you have left.

“i like you,” she says suddenly, and your heart practically stops.

  your head snaps to her, seeking for the expression of apology for such a dumb joke, or maybe innocent thankfulness, saying thatin such a childlike way, but – no, what she’s displaying is sincere, real affection, her face colored with a red blush. your breath catches.

she sits forward, tucking your jacket tighter around her. “i mean – not to say something silly and unexpected, but i really – i really, really like you, [name],” she says, her tone sweet, shaky and genuine. “i-i can barely focus sometimes ‘cause i’m always thinking about you, and just now, you gave me your jacket, even though – ” she presses her fists to her face. “i can’t keep it a secret anymore, s-so – even if you don’t feel the same way, i – ”

what ... ? as if i never felt the same way? no -- i truly, always --

“no!” you interrupt. “i like you too! i … really do,” you say, trailing off into a whisper. “i’ve liked you for so long, i can’t believe you … ”

  it’s quiet, then. neither of you says anything for a long moment.

“i-if we like each other, we’re supposed to kiss, right? i’ve never kissed someone before,” she whispers slowly, blushing furiously and stumbling. “can i … can we … ” her voice trails off and you wait, heart pounding in your ears. “can we … try it?”

you try to speak, and nothing happens at first, you’re so frozen with shock. you clear your throat, managing “really?” the word is awfully loud in the silence broken only by drumming rain, and she looks even more embarrassed, but nods anyway.

“okay,” you breathe. “okay. i … i’m gonna kiss you now, and – and if you don’t want me to, just say no, and i’ll – i’ll stop.” you wait for her to nod again. she’s trembling, and you can’t tell if it’s the cold or a nervous excitement. you have never seen her smile wider.

  you lean in and press your lips to hers. you can hear your heartbeat, and maybe hers too; she smells like flowers, of course, and the kiss is a sugary, clumsy, chaste thing. but it’s her, it really is, and she is flawless. she always has been. so it’s perfect too. and when she pulls away, that’s what she whispers to you as she wraps her arms around your neck.

  so that was the first kiss, awkward and new and genuine … and perfect; just like your beloved collei; and you can’t wait to kiss her again, and again, and again.

  albedo has always been handsome, but lately his beauty – that’s the only word for it, really – has been nothing less than otherworldly. you’re far from the only person in mondstadt to admire him, as he’s quite traditionally attractive, and polite as well; though of course less savory rumors surround him as well. as the knights of favonius’ chief alchemist, there have been quite a few whispers of his eccentric side and his strange experiments.

  this is far from a deterrent for you, however. you’re actually quite interested by his research and find it enjoyable to spend your time in his lab, helping out and simply accompanying him through his explorations of dragonspine. still, your intrigue in alchemy isn’t your only reason to partake in his studies, of course. no, not just his looks, either, but everything about him, really, from his habit of tugging on his gloves when he’s confused to the endearingly blank tone of his boyish voice.

  but of course, that unfair loveliness is the first thing you always notice when you see him, and it doesn’t go away. it’s what keeps your eyes riveted to the strands of his fluffy hair, dusted in the last few moments of sunset and a light haze of wintery white snowfall as you sit beside him, clutching a cup of hot chocolate and trying to keep your body still against the biting cold of the mountain.

  his bright blue eyes are relaxed for once in his life as he crosses his hands in his lap, staring up at the puffs of thick clouds against the rapidly dimming sky. he’s gorgeous, in a way that seems almost unreal, like he was sculpted from clay and brought to life as the perfect boy. you watch him in silence, affection crinkling the lines of your face into a wistful smile as the minutes pass.

“[name]?” he asks, turning, and you start. “uh – um, yeah?"

“what’s your type?” he says. your breath catches.

the question is almost innocuous, and yet his closeness, the slight blush across his face in the frostbitten landscape, has you shocked, your lips parting for a moment. his eyes flick to your mouth for just a second, then back up to your eyes, and – no, you must have imagined the way his cheeks grow just a shade darker pink.

“my type?”

“yes, sucrose has been telling me about romance, such as the oblivious and pining trope, and star crossed lovers,” he says serenely. “they seem to be very popular in mondstadt, i’ve seen many young women reading romance stories lately.”

  oh, you think, with a mix of relief and disappointment, he only wanted to know for his data analysis, as usual. well, there’s really no harm in answering; he’s been so oblivious about your feelings, anyway, he probably wouldn’t even be able to pick up on what you were saying.

“smart guys,” you say honestly, “people who are straightforward with what they want, and they should be devoted too, to what i’m interested in, plus the relationship itself. though, none of it is as important as them being a caring and kind person.” you smile thoughtfully. “i never would have expected this from you of all people, albedo.”

“ah, sucrose said the same thing,” he says almost sheepishly, “but i thought it could be – ” he clears his throat, swallowing before he continues. “ – interesting, to … engage in this sort of thing more often. it’s more exciting than i would have thought.”

you try to ignore the skip your heart makes at this, and prop your head on your hand, forcing your voice to a nonchalant tone. “really? so, have you thought about it a lot? what’s your type?”

  you know you don’t imagine it this time, his face blushing a bit redder, and it sends your heart into your throat and your pulse racing, though he keeps his balance and steady voice when he speaks after blinking slowly. despite yourself, you of course want to know his answer.

“people who show their feelings easily, and are willing to be patient,” he says, slowly, tapping his fingers on his knee. “and … i agree with you, that it’s important for them to care about my own pursuits. i think – it’s a sign of a good person who makes a dedicated effort towards partaking and showing interest in my work. someone who’s worth keeping.”

  his voice – such a stupid thing to focus on, and yet – he sounds like it’s you that he means, there is some meaningful quality in his tone, as calm and collected as ever, and yet his voice is warm, like a beam of sunlight cutting through the shade cast by a thick forest of trees. he’s looking at you, with those eyes that are as blue as the sea, and you can barely breathe.

  he leans closer. sunset has long passed by now, and the moon is gleaming bright in the velvet blue sky. the pale silver light throws his pretty features into shadowy definition, and when he kisses you, his gloved hand cupping your face, his lips are warm despite the cold; your eyes are closed, and yet all you see are stars.

© lumiconic ; please reblog and follow if enjoyed

[leclerc-s]

wait, there's another one of you?

series masterlist

isabellaperez posted new stories

this booger picked me up from the airport and then decided to mock me for buying food at the airport. little outfit change because it's not hoodie season in mexico. i ditched the booger and picked up my comfort food. no i will not be sharing, they're all mine.

lando norris someone want to explain to me who the guy in isabella's story is?

isabella perez my fucking brother? gael? dulce perez it's our brother.

charles leclerc wait, there's another one of you??

max verstappen how do you people not know this?

mae jones i didn't know...

daphne jones i did know, nice kid. i don't know how he's related to isabella.

sebastian vettel he used to come to races all the time, and then their dad died and he stopped coming.

dulce perez we all bonded with dad over f1. it was harder for gael because he was karting when dad passed. he gave up on the sport after that.

isabella perez haven't you heard, he's a big shot actor now. HE WORKED WITH THE SEBASTIAN STAN!!

penelope trevino your taste in men needs to be studied. under a microscope. isabella perez i don't really have a crush on sebastian stan. i have a crush on bucky barnes. it's very different. penelope trevino oh yeah, that makes so much sense.

max verstappen the worst thing is that he's a ferrari fan too 🙄

isabella perez HELL YEAH! FORZA FERRARI BABY!

charles leclerc LET'S GO!!

lewis hamilton i will never understand how checo's own blood aren't red bull fans.

dulce perez he was a ferrari academy driver with jules. it's practically in our blood to be tifosi. i just like to support my uncle, the other two are heathens.

isabella perez WE CAN SUPPORT UNCLE CHECO AND SUPPORT FERRARI AT THE SAME TIME DULCE!

esteban ocon we have to meet this guy!

lance stroll when can we meet him? carlos sainz are we allowed to meet him? dulce perez never. my brother will not be tainted by you nerds.

rowan todd listen, i understand the boys, but seeing as we work together with marvel. good luck keeping me away from him.

rowan todd wait-

rowan todd in the sense that, we're going to become besties. work besties if you will.

lance stroll pierre just let out a sigh of relief.

pierre gasly do you know how to shut the fuck up? if so, please do so. lance stroll why would i when you're so easy to tease?

max verstappen you have to bring him to a race soon. it's only fair! i will turn him into a red bull fan.

isabella perez listen, uncle checo driving for red bull is temporary, however long that may last, but ferrari is forever. you just have to deal with this max, uncle checo does.

carlos sainz max is just surrounded by tifosi isn't he?

max verstappen oh shut up carlos.

carlos sainz is the little one still a huge charles fan?

daniel ricciardo he called my move to mclaren the worst mistake of my life. daniel ricciardo he's also a little shit. but we love him max verstappen NO! YOU LOVE HIM! i tolerate him at best.

fernando alonso when you say patito, you don't mean pato o'ward, do you?

isabella perez i do! they were best friends growing up!

dulce perez wow, you are dumb.

isabella perez WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN??

dulce perez ask gael. maybe he'll answer the question.

lando norris someone could be in love with her and she would never notice.

daniel ricciardo i can't wait for the day i get to witness that

daphne jones don't be mean. she's not dumb, just oblivious.

pierre gasly this is like that time that guy asked for her number and she gave him dulce's number.

arthur leclerc WHAT THE FUCK? WHEN WAS THIS?

max verstappen arthur right now, probably

charles leclerc can confirm that is what arthur sounded like.

max verstappen at least someone appreciates my comedic genius. natalia ruiz he's in love with you charles leclerc literally shut up?

isabella perez WHAT ARE YOU PEOPLE TALKING ABOUT? HE ASKED FOR DULCE'S NUMBER?

rowan todd HE ASKED FOR YOURS! HE CALLED YOU PRETTY GIRL AND EVERYTHING?

isabella perez WHAT THE FUCK? HOW DID I MISS THAT?!

daphne jones like i said, you're oblivious.

freya vettel at least put us all out of our misery and ask out cute prema guy

isabella perez i can't.

esteban ocon the fuck do you mean you can't?

lance stroll wait. don't fucking say it isabella

isabella perez i got back together with austin

daniel ricciardo WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ISABELLA?

fernando alonso OTRA VEZ? ISABELLA, NO PUEDES SEGUIR HACIENDO ESTO! (again? isabella, you can't keep doing this!)

isabella perez but he said things would be different this time!

dulce perez THAT'S WHAT HE FUCKING SAID LAST TIME YOU MORON!

gael perez dime que no es verdad isabella! (tell me it's not true isabella!)

isabella perez that depends, what are we talking about?

dulce perez cut the bullshit. why would you do this?

isabella perez HEY YOU KNOW WHY! I LOVE HIM!

gael perez i'm gonna die and my sister's still going to be dating that lunatic.

dulce perez at this rate i'm going to get back with arthur and she's still going to be with him.

isabella perez let's talk about dulce's problems instead!

gael perez old news, we all know she's still in love arthur but in denial about it.

isabella perez by the way, was patito ever anything more than your friend?

gael perez i have to go.

isabella perez CLEARLY I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE WITH PROBLEMS HERE!

isabella perez dulce is a snitch who's still in love with her ex and my brother dated his best friend.

dulce perez HEY FUCK YOU! WHAT HAPPENS IN THE SIBLING GROUP CHAT STAYS THERE!

max verstappen no, tell us more. as the children say, spill the tea sis.

mae jones i forget you have a broken childhood.

charles leclerc tell us something we don't already know.

dulce perez literally fuck you guys. i don't have to sit here and take this.

dulce perez i have class now.

pierre gasly coward.

dulce perez PIERRE'S IN LOVE WITH ROWAN BUT IS AFRAID TO ADMIT IT! MAX IS ALSO IN LOVE WITH MAE! AND CHARLES IS LOVE WITH NATALIA AND WE ALL KNOW THEY'RE SLEEPING TOGETHER!

dulce perez call me a coward again gasly. i know all your secrets.

lance stroll she's sort of scary sometimes.

daniel ricciardo she's a middle child. of course she knows everything.

daphne jones i love her.

max verstappen i'm kinda scared of her now. what else does she know?

dulce perez i know everything verstappen. all of you confide in me because i'm the only 'normal' one here.

dulce perez AND I KNEW ABOUT DANIEL'S PROPOSAL BEFORE ANYONE ELSE SO SUCK IT FUCKERS! (except for seb, lewis, and nando. i love you guys.)

mae jones RICCIARDO! YOU TOLD ME I WAS THE FIRST TO KNOW!

daniel ricciardo would you look at the time. i have to go walk my kangaroo.

fernando alonso coward!

daniel ricciardo no shame about it!

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¡leclerc-s speaks! if i hadn’t mentioned this character before that’s because he was literally made up like last week. i also just love danny ramirez and i had to include him somehow. this entire series is just me putting together all my interests in one. also my love for pato, i love him so much. i have too many stories and don't have time to update them all so i just create more to ignore the bigger issue.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!