#Factory Gala

[brooklynisher]

My Little Pony My Little Pony aaaaaaaaaa

Robot design by @grubbylilgoblin (Under the cut)

Pony design by me!!! Pony designs are surprisingly easy and fun to do wowee

[x]

[claire-debussy]

I'm going to kick off this blog strong with one of my all time favorite pictures of Kathryn Hahn... And it just so happens to include the mister, Ethan Sandler.

These two are a power couple. They're down to earth, unapologetically themselves, and give us all both a healthy relationship and a healthy work-life balance to aspire to.

Expect to see on this blog not just Kathryn, but Ethan as well as occasionally her two children, Leo and Mae, whenever they pop up.

We stan the Hahn here, and as such, we stan the Hahn's fam.

[basedandlovepilled]

even tho i’m anti capitalist i am not anti met gala LOL like yes it’s a public display of wealth but it’s also an art show. when i think abt being mad abt wealth inequality i think of actual billionaires and wealth hoarders who gained their wealth by oppressing and exploiting people (or from their fathers oppressing and exploiting people) not fashion designers and actors. so yeah forgive me if i love admiring the met gala costumes for their artistic value

[cuartoretorno]

[formulauno98]

Yacht Girl Summer - Chapter One / Thursday- George Russell x Reader, Toto Wolff x Reader

It's Summer and you've been dating George Russell, golden boy of the Mercedes Formula One Team, for the last year. Outwardly it looks like the perfect relationship, travelling the world hand-in-hand with your rich and famous other half but lately you've started to feel like an accessory to his success.

When you're invited aboard his boss' yacht for the week, you start to get to know the man who so often is the object of your boyfriend's affection, enigmatic Team Principal, Toto Wolff. Steely at first, as you get to know him, you start to see why your boyfriend is so enamoured.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Nothing spicy yet. This is going to be a slow burn and if you're uncomfortable with the idea of two-timing don't read this.

Author’s Notes: Disclaimer, purely fiction. No use of Y/N and minimal descriptions because I want everyone/anyone to be able to enjoy this.

THURSDAY MORNING

As you packed the last of your vacation outfits into your weekend bag you sighed, thinking about how you were going to survive this week. You’d been dating your boyfriend for almost a year and things had started well but lately, you felt something was off. 

For all intents and purposes, he was a catch. Good on paper as some people would say. He was a Formula One driver and a talented one at that, he was smart, he was funny (even though sometimes he didn’t mean to be) and he was kind. It also didn’t hurt that he was tall, easy on the eye and allergic to wearing a shirt ninety percent of the time.

Yes, George Russell was outwardly the perfect boyfriend. Just not the one for you. In your heart of hearts, you knew that he just wasn’t the one and it wasn’t fair to keep stringing him along. His work took precedence and you found yourself constantly making awkward small talk with random people during events, his focus entirely on his career. 

To begin with, life as a Formula One partner had been exciting, a glamorous world previously closed off to you now opened. You’d accompany George to races here and there, cheering him on from the garage, living the highs and lows and trying to support him as much as you could. Then there were tennis matches, charity galas, fashion shows, and even glossy film premieres and he always needed a date. 

He was quick to include you in his busy life but after a year of being treated like arm candy, playing second fiddle to George, the novelty had worn thin. You were no more than an accessory. Old men leered at you, girls were jealous and the mechanics thought you were some kind of bimbo gold-digger. It was decidedly less fun than it looked and you knew you owed it to yourself to put a stop to it.

It was difficult as George had not done anything wrong, he just sometimes forgot that you were a person and took your support for granted. You’d voiced your feelings but they were only ever met with empty promises. Even your Summer plans had been hijacked by his work as he’d cancelled the trip to South Africa that you’d booked in favour of accompanying his boss on his yacht for a week. 

You’d had numerous arguments about his overly close relationship with his boss, the mildly terrifying Mercedes Team Principal, Toto Wolff. You hadn’t spent much time with the man but George practically lived in his pocket. He even stayed at his house when they worked at the factory in the UK. It was strange, to say the least, and you’d had to learn to live with the unusual dynamic between the pair of them, awkwardly saying hello to the intimidating Austrian when you were in the garage but never quite breaking through his cool demeanour.

George on the other hand, loved his boss and was constantly “Toto says this,” “Toto recommends that.” So when he’d invited him onto his yacht for the Summer, he hadn’t hesitated to drop all other plans. Even if that meant you not getting to go on the safari you’d meticulously planned.

Casting your mind back to how the conversation had gone, you were still annoyed about it.

“It’s just for a week.” George had pleaded, “And it’s good for my career to be close to Toto. I owe him everything.”

You rolled your eyes, having heard this spiel before. “Why don’t you just ask him to formally adopt you and be done with it?”

George huffed, “That wasn’t funny before and it’s not funny now. Please, just do this for me, and we can go to South Africa another time. He’s never invited us before, if we say no, who knows how long it will be if we get another invite, if ever.”

Feeling slightly guilty, you replied, “Sorry, I know that was a little mean. Look, I was just looking forward to the safari.”

“I know,” said George, his bright eyes softening as he wrapped his arms around you, “But I promise you, we’ll go soon. And besides, Toto’s yacht will be nice, you can snorkel, you can paddleboard, you’ll love it.”

Smiling slightly, you knew you wouldn’t be going to South Africa any time soon, George’s schedule was too full on. And that’s why you knew you needed to end things soon. He hadn’t done anything wrong but you had lost yourself in George’s calendar. 

Swallowing your thoughts, you knew that he’d already said yes on your behalf so it was too late to back out, “I guess, and like you said, it’s only a week.”

“There’s my girl.” George kissed you lightly on the cheek, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

THURSDAY AFTERNOON

Having successfully packed, you and George had been driven down to the marina to board the yacht. You felt a little nervous as you walked beside George towards the imposing vessel you’d be spending the week on. It was one of the larger boats docked and you could already see various members of staff milling about on deck. 

You didn’t know Toto very well beyond saying hello and you weren’t sure what to expect outside of racing. He always seemed very serious and calculating, and still reeling from his acrimonious divorce, not the most fun person to holiday with. You knew that a few of George’s colleagues and their wives and girlfriends would be there too so you hoped that they at least might be somewhat entertaining.

Stepping off of the passarelle and onto the boat behind George, he suddenly dropped your luggage and started waving manically as he spotted his formidable boss standing on the sundeck above.

“Hi Toto!” he called out.

“Welcome!” Toto called out, disappearing momentarily before reappearing at the bottom of the stairs in front of you. He was dressed casually but smartly in head-to-toe navy with dark sunglasses.

“How are you both?” he said kindly, stretching out to George for a warm embrace before holding his arms out to you.

Half hugging him awkwardly, you replied, “Very well thank you, thank you again for the invite, we’ve been excited all week.”

Thrilled that you were buttering up his boss, George chimed in, “Yes, we’ve been counting down the days.”

“Glad to hear it,” said Toto, smiling contently, “The others arrived a short while ago so are at the front. Perhaps Livia can show you to your cabin and then you can come and join us for a drink?”

He gestured at a young blonde stewardess who had discreetly appeared from inside, ready to show you to your quarters.

“Thanks, Toto.” said George, clapping his boss on the shoulder enthusiastically before following Livia, “We’ll be right back.”

Taken aback that George had followed Livia without remembering to pick up your two weekend bags you shook your head as you were left struggling to pick them up and follow. Typical George.

“Here, let me help.” a deep, accented voice offered. Turning around, you were surprised to see Toto standing there, his arm outstretched.

“Oh…” you said blushing and tripping over your words, “It’s okay, honestly. I think George was overexcited to see his room.”

Toto smiled, taking the two bags from you despite your protests, lifting them effortlessly, “That’s our George.”

Smiling reluctantly, you agreed as you followed Toto inside, “Indeed.” 

At least his boss seemed like a gentleman.

THURSDAY EVENING

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pastel pink, dinner that evening was set against an idyllic backdrop. You and George being the last to arrive, all guests were now on board and the yacht had finally set sail for your week-long jaunt into the Mediterranean.

The crew had prepared a cosy dinner on the deck, complete with twinkling fairy lights and a long table set for seven. Toto was sat at the head of the table, yourself and James, the Mercedes Technical Director either side of him.

On your other side was James’ wife, Cara, and across from you diagonally was the Communications Director’s wife, Marion. Making up the other end of the table was George and the Communications Director himself, John, who were chatting animatedly and ignoring everyone else.

As the two other couples knew each other well, James, Cara and Marion were equally engrossed in conversation with Toto, leaving you awkwardly eating in silence, trying your best to not give in to the pang of loneliness you felt.

As the dinner progressed, you couldn’t help but notice how isolated you felt. The laughter and chatter of the others a stark contrast to your internal turmoil. You tried to engage in small talk with the people around you, but your thoughts kept drifting back to your problems with George. 

This was yet another evening you’d spent surrounded by people yet isolated because you didn’t fit in. You were a side character in George’s life, there when it was convenient and discarded when someone more important was around.

Not one to miss a trick, Toto noticed your distraction. "Is everything alright?" he asked, his voice gentle yet concerned.

You forced a smile. "Yes, just feeling a little seasick." You weren’t proud of the lie but figured it might be the best way forward to get out of this agonising dinner.

His eyes crinkled with concern, he nodded, understandingly. "Sometimes it takes a while to get used to being at sea. Would you like to go up to the sun deck? The air is fresher, it might help."

Grateful for the offer and the opportunity to escape, you nodded. "That sounds nice, thank you."

Excusing yourself from the table you made your way to the stairs up to the sun deck. You glanced back at George, not surprised to see he was yet to clock your departure from the table. More surprising, however, was the fact that Toto had gotten up to follow you. You hadn’t expected him to accompany you and were slightly taken aback as the tall Austrian followed you up the stairs.

Dreading yet more awkward small talk, you wandered to the front of the sun deck, where the moonlight was pooling on the pristine white sun loungers. You leaned against the railing, taking in the tranquil scene.

"This is beautiful," you said softly, more to yourself than to Toto who had slotted himself a few feet to your right.

"It is," Toto agreed. "It’s one of the reasons I love being out here. It’s a good place to think, to clear your mind."

You turned to him, genuinely curious. "Do you come out here often?"

He smiled, a distant look in his eyes. "Whenever I can. It helps me balance the chaos of work."

You nodded, understanding the sentiment. "I can see why. It’s so peaceful and you were right, the air does feel fresher."

Toto nodded and for a moment, the two of you stood in comfortable silence, just listening to the sounds of the sea. 

Suddenly feeling somewhat awkward that you were standing gazing in the moonlight with your boyfriend’s boss, you chanced striking up more of a conversation. You were somewhat intrigued as to why George was so enamoured with the Team Principal and you had to seize the opportunity as quickly as it came.

“Thank you for everything you do for George,” you said, hoping to sound genuine.

Toto looked somewhat surprised and a little amused at your words, “It’s no trouble, he’s a good boy.”

Laughing at Toto calling George a boy, you pushed a little further, “I mean it. I honestly do.”

“I know.” said Toto, his gaze intense as he turned to you, “How are you feeling?”

“A little better actually,” you lied, “It’s also more stable up here, downstairs I felt like I was swishing around.”

“Swishing around?” Toto asked, quirking an eyebrow, “I don’t think I’ve heard it called that.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, not sure what he was getting at.

“Look, I could see you were not feeling comfortable at dinner.” he said, somewhat bluntly, “I see you when you are in the garage too. You always look ready to bolt. Are you not a fan of racing?”

Taken aback by his astute judgment and surprised that he'd noticed, you felt defensive and mumbled quietly  “It’s not that.”

Toto looked unconvinced, “I get it, you’re shy.”

“A little,” you confessed, “It’s a lot sometimes.”

Toto’s face softened, his brown eyes warm as he looked at you, “I understand. It’s not easy. You get used to it though.”

Thinking about the fact that you probably wouldn’t need to if you went through with your break-up plan, you just nodded, pretending that you agreed with his wisdom, “I hope so.”

“You will.” he said kindly, “So George tells me you like to travel a lot?”

“I do,” you said, surprised that he was now being chatty, “But not so much to the races, I like to escape in nature, it’s good for the soul.”

A smirk flickered on Toto’s lips, “I agree. If you’d like we can go exploring tomorrow. There are some coves around here we can stop at.”

“For real?” you asked, even more surprised that he was willing to bend his itinerary for you, someone he barely knew.

“For real,” he said succinctly. “And if the others don’t like it, they can stay on the boat and sunbathe.”

Laughing, you smiled at him, “Sounds like a plan.”

“I’m glad I can make you smile.” he said, his face serious, “You looked sad down there.”

Not sure how to reply, you looked down at your feet, choosing your words carefully before looking back up at Toto  “I’m just seasick. That’s all.”

Thoroughly unconvinced, Toto quirked an eyebrow, “Tomorrow you will feel better. I promise. Shall we go back to dinner? I’m sure George will be missing you.”

“I’m not sure about that.” you said quietly, causing Toto to raise his eyebrow once more, “He’ll be chatting away to John, I bet.”

“How much?” asked Toto as you both made your way towards the stairs.

“Two euros,” you said jokingly.

“It’s a bet,” replied Toto, holding out his hand to shake with all the seriousness that he would when making a business deal.

“Deal,” you said, taking his large hand in yours, grinning as you met the laughing Austrian’s eyes.

Sure enough, as you made your way back down the stairs towards the table, George was still chatting away to John, barely pausing for breath, let alone noticing the two of you taking back to your seats.

“How would you like to pay?” you asked Toto cheekily, as you both sat down, “I can accept cash, cheque or credit card”

“What’s Toto paying you for?” asked James, stopping mid-conversation, his interest suddenly piqued.

“We made a bet.” said Toto, clasping his hands under his chin, “It’s a secret though.”

James looked slightly sceptical, turning to you for more information, “Care to elaborate?”

“Deals have to be discrete.” you said, fighting the urge to laugh as Toto’s eyes sparkled at you, “Toto will be the first one to tell you that.”

Slightly tipsy, James laughed, not pressing further and returning to his animated discussion with the two older women. Glancing down at the other end of the table, George had barely looked up and once more you felt a pang of disappointment. He was clueless sometimes.

– – –

As dinner came to a close, Toto announced the plan for the next day. 

“Tomorrow morning, we’ll be exploring some of the coves around here. It will be an early start but should be fun. Who’s interested?”

George and John immediately expressed their interest, nodding eagerly. “Count us in!” George said, his enthusiasm reminding you of a child on a school trip.

James, Cara and Marion were less enthused about the early start and politely declined, deciding instead to stay on the boat, soaking in the sun.

Toto turned to you with a gentle smile. “How about you?”

You nodded, feeling genuinely excited for the first time in a while. “I’d love to.”

– – –

Having sussed out tomorrow’s plan and the seven am start, you bid your gracious host and fellow guests goodnight and you and George finally made your way to your shared quarters. The silence between you was palpable, each step echoing your unspoken thoughts.

Once inside the cabin, George broke the silence. “What were you doing going off with Toto?” he asked a hint of accusation in his tone.

You sighed, sitting down on the bed “I felt seasick and needed some fresh air so Toto suggested the sun deck. That’s all.”

George’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You could have told me.”

“I could have,” you admitted, your voice softening. “But you were busy with John and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

At this, George’s expression softened just a fraction and he settled down beside you. “Okay. I just... I don’t know… Let me know next time. I don’t want you feeling seasick and me not being there to help.”

You smiled sadly, knowing that for all of his faults, his heart was in the right place, “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

He nodded, wrapping his arm around you, “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” you said, leaning into him, feeling somewhat guilty that you had ignored him in favour of his boss.

“What were you talking about though?” he asked suddenly.

“We were talking about you and then this and that.” you said, before adding, “He’s actually quite nice. I get it now.”

At that, George looked a little put out but dropped the subject quickly, getting up to get ready for bed. As he busied himself unpacking his pyjamas, you couldn’t help but think of Toto, he was nicer than you’d given him credit for.

For the first time in a long while, you felt like someone had considered you as a person and not as George’s plus one. It was a good feeling to ponder as you drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the adventure that awaited you tomorrow.

Part Two

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗜𝗡𝗗𝗢𝗠𝗜𝗧𝗔𝗕𝗟𝗘 - chapter five fernando alonso x fem! driver! reader ( angst/fluff ) series summary . . . a mortal who dared to defy the impossible. Of grit forged in fire, and dreams that refused to yield. In a world where heroes are born, and few rise to become legends. You are a force to be reckoned with. Unshakable. Unstoppable. Indomitable. (4.2k words)

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests ) ( previous | next )

V - A SIGN OF THE TIMES . . . ( Your fourth to ninth year in Formula One, 2021 ) //content warning . . . ( Yn is 28 years old throughout this chapter, nice and not too short )

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The offseason had been a whirlwind of commitments—sponsor shoots, factory visits, and endless planning for the new season. But tonight? Tonight was a rare reprieve. A glittering gala in Monaco, far removed from the roar of engines and the intensity of racing.

You weren’t planning on going, but Max had insisted. “It’s good to get out of the garage sometimes,” he’d teased, all smug grins and knowing eyes.

You arrived in a sleek dress, a small glass of champagne in hand as you scanned the crowd. Familiar faces dotted the room—drivers, team principals, celebrities—but your focus lingered on none of them.

Until you saw him.

Fernando Alonso.

He was leaning casually against a bar, deep in conversation with someone you didn’t recognize. His suit was sharp, his smile sharper, and when his eyes met yours, it felt like time stuttered. He tilted his head slightly, his expression softening into something warm and fond.

“Yn,” he greeted when you approached, his voice low and familiar, laced with the hint of a smile.

“Fernando,” you replied, the edges of your mouth twitching up involuntarily. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Likewise,” he said, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer than necessary. “I heard you had a busy offseason.”

You laughed lightly, swirling the champagne in your glass. “Busy is an understatement. And you? I thought you were enjoying retirement.”

“Retirement is overrated,” he said with a wink.

The conversation flowed easily, laughter bubbling between you like champagne in flutes. The rest of the room faded away, the crowd a blur as you stood there with Fernando, trading stories and smiles like no time had passed.

And when the night wound down, and the party began to thin out, he walked you to the exit.

“I missed this,” he admitted quietly, his hands tucked into his pockets as you stood by the door.

“What?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You.”

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest, the confession settling between you like a warm blanket.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Mid-season was relentless. Back-to-back races, endless travel, and the unavoidable carousel of press conferences. You’d grown used to the chaos, but today’s media session took an unexpected turn.

Sitting alongside Max and Carlos after a thrilling race, you were still riding the high when one of the journalists leaned into the microphone with a pointed expression.

“Yn, with everything you’ve achieved, don’t you think it’s time to step back? You’re not getting any younger, and surely, you’ve thought about settling down and starting a family.”

The room went still, the air thick with disbelief.

Max’s head snapped toward the journalist, his eyes narrowing. “What kind of question is that?” he shot back, his tone sharp.

Carlos chimed in, his usual jovial demeanor replaced with a hard edge. “Would you ask a male driver that? She’s at the top of her game.”

You sat back in your chair, forcing a neutral expression as the other drivers rallied on your behalf. The journalist stumbled over a half-hearted apology, but you didn’t hear it. The question had planted itself firmly in your mind, burrowing deep.

Later that evening, you were curled up in bed with Fernando, his arm draped over your waist as his fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on your hair. The room was quiet, save for the occasional sound of the city outside, but your thoughts were far from peaceful.

He noticed almost immediately, his movements slowing as his gaze dropped to your face. “What’s wrong, Hermosa?” he asked softly, his voice cutting through the haze of your thoughts.

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. “Do you think. . . it’s selfish of me to keep racing? If I want kids someday?”

His fingers paused, his brows furrowing slightly before his expression softened. “You’re asking this now?” he said, a teasing lilt in his voice. “When I haven’t even chosen a ring yet?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What are you talking about?”

He chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’m saying I want to marry you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you shifted to sit up slightly. “Fernando, I just brought up having kids, and your response is to tell me you want to marry me? Most men would run a mile.”

He shrugged, the corners of his mouth lifting into an easy smile. “I’m not most men.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening as a mix of emotions surged through you. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, though the warmth creeping into your voice betrayed you.

“And yet, you love me,” he said smugly, pulling you closer, his arms wrapping around you securely.

You couldn’t help but laugh, burying your face in his chest. “You’re lucky you’re charming.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Just one request,” he murmured, his voice low and tender. “When we have kids, I want a girl. A little mini Yn Alonso.”

Your laughter softened into a smile, tears prickling at your eyes as the weight of the day started to lift. “You’re something else, Fernando,” you whispered.

“Only for you,” he replied, his hand gently stroking your hair once more as he held you close.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The moment you decided, Max was the first person you told.

You found him in his driver’s room, seated on the edge of the couch with his phone in hand. The soft hum of the air conditioning filled the room, but the second he looked up and met your gaze, the quiet peace shattered. Concern flickered across his face, and he set his phone aside, sitting up straighter.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone instantly serious.

You closed the door behind you, your fingers lingering on the handle for a moment longer than necessary before turning to face him. “Max,” you started, your voice betraying the steady front you’d tried to put on, “I’ve made a decision.”

His brows knitted together, and he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “What decision?”

Taking a deep breath, you clasped your hands in front of you, bracing yourself. “I’m retiring… at the end of the season.”

The silence was immediate, heavy. Max stared at you, his expression frozen in disbelief, his lips parting slightly as if to respond, but no words came. Slowly, he stood, his movements stiff, his eyes narrowing as if he hadn’t heard you correctly.

“No,” he finally said, his voice firm but quiet, almost like he was testing the word.

“Max, I—”

“No!” he said again, louder this time, his voice cracking as he cut you off. He ran a hand through his hair, turning away from you briefly before spinning back around, his frustration and desperation palpable. “You can’t. You can’t leave me! You’re my teammate, my partner. You’re—you’re the only person I trust out there!”

“Max—”

“Who’s going to be there for me, huh?” he demanded, his voice rising. “Who’s going to call me out when I’m being an idiot? Or sit with me when I screw up and remind me I’m not as terrible as I feel? Who’s going to keep me sane through all of this?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he didn’t give you the chance.

“Please,” he said, his voice softer now but trembling. He stepped closer, his blue eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Please don’t go. I need you here. I—I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

Your heart ached at his words, and you reached out instinctively, but Max moved faster. He fell to his knees in front of you, his hands gripping yours tightly, his forehead resting against your knuckles.

“Don’t do this,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Please. I’m begging you.”

Tears blurred your vision as you sank to your knees with him, cupping his face in your hands. His tears spilled over now, streaking his cheeks, and the sight of him like this—so raw, so vulnerable—shattered any composure you had left.

“Max,” you choked out, brushing your thumbs across his damp skin. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could stay, but… I have to go. It’s time.”

“No,” he murmured, shaking his head. “It’s not time. It’ll never be time. Not for me.”

His words lodged like a knife in your chest. You pulled him into a hug, holding him as tightly as you could, and he clung to you, burying his face in your shoulder. His whole body trembled, and you stroked his back gently, trying to soothe him even though you felt just as broken.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered, his voice muffled against you.

“You’re not losing me,” you promised, though the words felt hollow. “You’ll always have me, Max. Always.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his face red and tear-streaked, his lips trembling. “You’re my family, Yn. You’re everything.”

Your own tears fell harder at that, and you pressed your forehead against his, closing your eyes. “And you’re mine, Max. I’ll always be here for you, even if I’m not on the grid.”

He nodded slightly, though his grip on you didn’t loosen. For a long moment, neither of you moved, clinging to each other as the weight of your decision settled around you both. And for the first time since you’d made it, you felt like it might break you.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It had always been easy with Max. Ever since 2019, when your little tradition of making dinner together began, it became your thing. Even during COVID, when the world slowed to a crawl, the two of you didn’t skip a beat, rooming together for months and keeping each other sane.

Tonight felt no different—except, maybe it was.

You were in Max’s kitchen, chopping vegetables and humming along to the music playing softly in the background. Max was sim racing in the next room, the sound of his engine roaring blending seamlessly with the ambiance.

“Yn! Are we having anything fried, or can I push this setup another five laps?” he yelled over the noise.

“Do I look like a deep fryer to you?” you shot back, laughing. “Keep driving. Dinner’s not ready yet.”

The smell of garlic and spices filled the air as you stirred the sauce, completely in your zone. You didn’t hear Max come in—he always moved quietly when he wanted to—but you felt him when his arms slid around your waist.

“Max,” you said with a chuckle, trying to keep your focus on the stove, “your race didn’t seem that long.”

He didn’t reply, instead taking your left hand in his, lifting it into view. His thumb brushed over the diamond ring sitting snugly on your finger.

“He got you a ring.” His voice was quiet, measured, like he wasn’t sure how to feel.

You glanced at him, surprised he’d noticed. “He did,” you murmured, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “I wasn’t trying to hide it, but. . . I guess I forgot to tell you.”

Max nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line as his eyes stayed on the ring. “It’s very pretty.”

You tilted your head, trying to read his expression, but before you could, he hugged you—tight, burying his face into your shoulder.

“You’re being very mature,” you said softly, your free hand rubbing slow circles on his back.

“I don’t feel mature,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against your skin.

His words tugged at your heart, and you stroked his hair gently, holding him close. Max always wore his heart a little too openly around you, and you knew what this meant to him. What you meant to him.

“Will you still come make me dinner sometimes . . . after you’re married to Fernando?” he asked, his voice so quiet it almost broke you.

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, offering him a warm smile. “How about you come eat dinner with us instead?” you suggested with a chuckle. “Bring the cats, alright?”

Max blinked, a small grin tugging at his lips despite the sadness in his eyes. “Of course. But only if you wash the dishes.”

“Deal,” you said, ruffling his hair.

He laughed softly, leaning his forehead against yours for a brief moment. “Deal.”

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You sat in a quiet corner of the Red Bull HQ media room, a simple camera setup before you and a small team standing by to guide the process. The room was modest, nothing extravagant—just enough for what you had to say. Max was there too, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching silently. His presence was grounding, even as a knot twisted in your stomach.

“Alright, Yn,” one of the media team members said, adjusting the camera. “Whenever you’re ready.”

You nodded, exhaling slowly before facing the lens. The words you’d rehearsed with the team swirled in your head, but now, they felt heavy, almost suffocating.

“Hi, everyone,” you began, your voice steady but soft. “I’ve been thinking about how to say this for a while now, and honestly, it’s not easy. Formula 1 has been my life for so many years. It’s where I’ve grown, where I’ve made some of the best memories of my life, and where I’ve met people who mean the world to me.”

You paused, glancing to the side where Max gave you a small nod of encouragement.

“But,” you continued, “as much as I love this sport, life is about seasons, and I’m entering a new one. A little while ago, I got engaged.” You lifted your left hand slightly, the modest yet elegant ring catching the light.

The media team murmured quietly, already knowing the news but still moved by the way you delivered it. Max’s expression remained neutral, though his fingers tapped idly against his arm, betraying his restlessness.

“This next chapter in my life is about settling down, starting a family, and embracing something I’ve always wanted but never had the time for,” you said, your voice catching slightly. “I’ve thought long and hard about this, and as much as it hurts, I’ve decided that this will be my final season in Formula 1.”

Your breath hitched, but you pushed through. “I’m not getting any younger, and to give this new chapter my full attention, I need to step back from the sport I love so much.”

The room was silent except for the hum of the camera. You swallowed hard, forcing a small smile as you looked back at the lens. “I can’t thank all of you enough—my team, my fans, my family—for supporting me through this journey. It’s been an honor to race alongside some of the best drivers in the world. I’ll cherish these memories forever, and I’ll give everything I have for the rest of this season.”

The team signaled for a cut, and the camera stopped rolling. You let out a shaky breath, leaning back in the chair as the tension began to drain.

“That was perfect, Yn,” one of the media members said, patting your shoulder.

You managed a smile, but your gaze drifted to Max, who was still standing against the wall. His jaw was tight, and his eyes held an unmistakable sadness. When the others turned away to review the footage, he walked over, crouching slightly to meet your eyes.

Max took your hand again, his gaze fixating on the ring. “You know I would’ve bought you a bigger one, right?” he said casually, though his tone was laced with a playful hint.

You rolled your eyes, a grin tugging at your lips. “I don’t care about rings, Max. I didn’t even want one in the first place,” you replied, laughing lightly.

Max raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. “But he insisted, didn’t he? Silly Fernando.”

You sighed dramatically, chuckling. “He did insist. I told him to pick one that wasn’t too flashy. I wanted emerald, something cheaper, but he said a diamond was better.”

Max gave a knowing nod. “Good call. I’ll get you all the emerald rings in the world, then.”

Before you could respond, Max attempted to tug the ring off your finger, grinning mischievously. You swatted his hand away, laughing at his antics.

“Well, if you didn’t want a ring,” Max continued, his eyes glinting with curiosity, “what would you want instead?”

You thought for a moment, tapping your chin in mock deliberation. “A cat . . . actually, two cats,” you said, a smirk appearing on your face as you held up two fingers.

Max nodded in approval, his expression softening. “Alright, two baby Bengals. Done.”

He turned to walk away, but you quickly snatched his cap from his head, holding it out of reach. “Nope,” you said with a playful grin. “I’d rather you help me with wedding planning.”

Max shot you an exaggerated glare over his shoulder. “Wedding planning? I didn’t sign up for that.” But you could see the faintest smile tugging at his lips.

“Can we make it cat-themed?”

“No.”

“How about red bull themed?”

“Absolutly not. When pigs fly.”

Max then proceeded to find a way to make pigs fly.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The final race of the season was chaotic in every sense of the word. Max and Lewis were neck-and-neck for the championship, and the stakes couldn’t have been higher. As you stepped into the paddock that Thursday, the weight of it all pressed down on you. The media swarmed like bees, their questions circling either Max and Lewis’s title fight or your impending retirement. Every interview, every camera flash, every glance seemed to carry an electric charge.

By the time your duties were over, you were drained, expecting nothing more than a quiet escape back to the hotel and to probably sneak fernando in your room as well. Instead, your PR team intercepted you just as you were heading out.

“Come with us,” one of them said, their tone suspiciously cheerful.

“What’s going on?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“Just trust us,” they replied with a sly smile, steering you toward the track.

The moment you stepped onto the asphalt, your breath hitched. Gathered at the starting line was an enormous group of people—drivers, engineers, team members, and even a few journalists you didn’t completely hate. Each driver wore a graphic shirt with bold white letters reading: Thank You, Yn and a few pictures of you across your years in Formula One.

Your hand flew to your mouth as your heart skipped a beat. “What . . . What is this?”

Sebastian stepped forward, his ever-reassuring smile lighting up the moment. “A proper send-off,” he said warmly. “One last lap for you. A track walk.”

“Not just any track walk,” Daniel chimed in with a grin. “Your track walk.”

Tears pricked your eyes as they began pulling you forward, a mix of teasing and genuine affection guiding you. You fell into step with them, drivers and friends surrounding you as you moved along the track that had defined so much of your life.

Some jogged ahead, joking about trying to set a lap time on foot. Lando and Carlos kept close, cracking jokes about your rookie days and how you used to scold Lando in his internship/test driver year. Pierre and Charles teased you relentlessly, their laughter echoing in the twilight air.

Even Lewis was there. His presence was quiet, lingering at the edge of the group with Valterri, but still unmistakable. Your eyes met his for a fleeting moment. There was something unspoken in his gaze, a mixture of respect, regret, and something deeper. You quickly looked away, shifting your attention to Lando, who was recounting a hilariously exaggerated tale of a time you almost spun out during a wet race because of him.

By the time you reached the end of the lap, the floodgates had opened. Tears streamed freely down your face, and the overwhelming gratitude in your chest felt like it might burst.

“You guys,” you managed to choke out, your voice trembling with emotion. “You’re unbelievable.”

Sebastian pulled you into the first hug, followed by Max, who refused to let go until you both were laughing through your tears. One by one, the rest of the drivers followed—Charles, Lando, Fernando, Daniel, even Kimi. Each embrace was a reminder of the bonds you’d formed over the years, the highs and lows you’d shared.

As the group dispersed, Lewis was the last to approach. He didn’t say anything, simply offering a small, almost shy smile before extending a hand. You hesitated for a moment but returned the handshake. It was brief but significant, leaving you with a painful ache in your stomach you didn’t dare examine.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The race was a chaotic spectacle, an all-out battle between Max and Lewis for the WDC title. The intensity was palpable as they fought on equal points, and every lap was a high-stakes gamble. You gave everything you had to help Max secure that elusive championship. When Max pitted, you took advantage of the opportunity to attack Lewis, defending against him fiercely, holding him back just long enough for Max to pull ahead. You fought off anyone else who threatened, sacrificing yourself for the greater good, giving Max every chance to claim victory.

But then, disaster struck—Latifi's crash brought out the safety car, and the race was reduced to a single lap of pure, unfiltered chaos. The tension was unbearable as the countdown began for the final lap. Your heart raced as Max lined up his attack.

Max made his move at Turn Five, diving inside Lewis with a move so precise, it left the crowd gasping in awe. The roar of the fans was deafening as Max took the lead and held it, crossing the finish line first to claim his first World Championship. You followed behind, finishing P3, the weight of the moment crashing over you. The finality of it all, the realization that this was your last race, hit you like a ton of bricks.

In parc fermé, you could barely take it all in. Your car sat at the front, a place where everyone could bid you goodbye one last time. You climbed onto your car, lifting your helmet off and waving at the crowd, tears threatening to spill. The cheers from the stands were overwhelming, but they felt distant. Your chest tightened as you gazed out at the crowd, taking in the faces of your friends and fans. This sport had been your life for so long, and now it was over.

As you stepped down from the car, Max was the first to reach you. He pulled you into a tight hug, his voice low and full of emotion. “You did it,” you whispered, choking on the words, your own tears falling freely now.

Max held you even tighter. “We did it.”

You clung to him for a moment longer before the rest of the drivers came over—Fernando, Sebastian, Carlos, Lando, and Kimi too for some reason. Each one offered their congratulations, their hugs, their bittersweet farewells. But it was Fernando who lingered the longest, his arms around you, his hand brushing away the tears as he whispered comforting words in your ear.

He was the one who had always been there for you, through the highs and lows, and now, as you faced the end of this chapter, he didn’t let go. He didn’t have to say much. His presence was enough.

The podium ceremony was euphoric, a surreal mix of celebration and farewell. Max sprayed champagne in victory, dousing you as you laughed and cried. Lewis, still in the mix, sprayed the crowd, adding to the chaos of the moment. But amid all the noise and the cheering, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of the finality in your heart.

As you stood on the podium with Max, the realization sank in: this was it. You had given everything to this sport, and now it was time to walk away.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

After the podium celebrations, race debriefs, interviews, and endless press conferences, the weight of the night began to settle in. You stood outside the Red Bull motorhome, your final farewell hanging in the air like a soft sigh.

“Can’t wait to see the #1 on your car next year,” you said with a smile, turning to Max. He gave you a watery laugh, the weight of the moment not lost on either of you. “From my car to yours,” you added, your voice filled with emotion.

With your goodbyes said, you stepped out of the Motorhome, and there he was—Fernando, waiting for you just outside. His hand slid into yours as you approached, and without a word, the two of you began walking toward the exit of the paddock, the night stretching out before you.

At the turnstiles, you paused, your eyes lingering on the paddock one last time. The memories of everything—the wins, the losses, the laughter, the struggles—flashed through your mind. It was hard to leave it all behind.

“Not ready to leave?” Fernando asked softly, sensing the hesitation in your step.

You smiled faintly, your heart heavy with the weight of finality. “Not really.”

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his presence a calming anchor. “I’ll wait for you on the other side,” he murmured.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped through the turnstile, your heart racing as you glanced back one last time. The paddock, the lights, the people—it was all fading away, but you felt ready for whatever came next.

Your hand found Fernando’s again as you walked side by side, the soft click of your footsteps echoing in the quiet night.

“Let’s go home,”

[cr33pz-mck3nna]

Could I request Lady D x Maid!reader where Alcina enjoys rewarding/embarrassing reader with a bunch of lipstick kisses whenever they do a good job/mess up?

Sugar Wine Kisses

Pairing: Lady Alcina Dimitrescu x Maid!reader(Ft: slight Jealous Heisenberg bcs I love me a jealous Heisenberg-)

(I love this request istg- but bcs gender wasn't specified this is GN!reader, I hope u don't mind!)

Some little backstory headcanons leading up to the main stuff from the request and a little fluff blurb

Warnings: Mentions of blood, death, kinda ooc?, dead bodies, explosions, resident evil village in itself is a warning-

• You first belonged to Heisenberg, as a friend of the Winters family Mother Miranda found you too useful to dispose of

• Heisenberg liked to take you to Miranda's meetings, that would be how Lady D met you

• She took an intruige to you mainly for your personality, you were the only one of Heisenberg's assistants who had the audacity to yell back at his antics, Lady D liked you for that and so you got along fast

• It was when Heisenberg blew up half his factory, and almost you in it, that Lady D knew it was time to step in

• When you arrived at Castle Dimitrescu you were IMMEDIATELY swarmed by the Dimitrescu girls asking you questions

• It's been two and a half years since Lady D moved you in, she had quickly made it clear you were to be treated differently from all the other slavesservants, you were always asked to sit in on Dimitrescu family dinners(you no longer have a reaction to dead bodies to say the least) and the many grand galas Alcina hosts and you were placed in a bedroom directly connected to the master bedroom

• Lady D LOVES dressing you, never once were you wearing the same clothes as the other servants except for the day you arrived, you were called to bring tea to her in a meeting with Donna(+Angie) and the moment you walked in you could just FEEL the sheer horror coming from Alcina- "WHAT...are you wearing. Never dress like this in my sight again." But when it was just the two of you...."Oh Sugar, do not wear such lowly clothes, you are better than that! No more lowering yourself to such a level, now try this on, it suits your complexion MUCH better!"

• If Lady D and Heisenberg had a bad relationship before then HAHA WHOOO BOY UR IN FOR ONE HELL OF A RIDE- Heisenberg will never admit it but you were the best assistant he had ever had, so when Alcina convinced Miranda that you weren't safe with him it was almost as if saying no to Veruca Salt and something snapped. Whenever Heisenberg shows up at the castle he always makes snide remarks to the Dimitrescu girls about how their mother "stole" you and how he should "return the favor" and "snatch up one of her pretty girls", he especially loves flirting with Cassandra(the most lovesick of the three) but he isn't the only one playing the mindgames as Alcina just LOVES to dress you up in your finest clothes when she hears Heisenberg will be there and parade you around like a prized dog

• You are to Alcina pretty much what Angie is to Donna, meaning you are always at her side including at the Lord's meetings with Miranda, at this point you are basically one of the lords via being an extension of Alcina and since Alcina is pretty much known to be Miranda's favorite you have had many interactions with her. During a particularly...loud meeting you were being very calm and quiet, listening intentively to Miranda's words as best as you could through all the screaming which led to this exact interaction- "SILENCE. Now can anyone tell me what I just said?" and you immediately repeated her words word for word "Wonderful human, now this is why you are my favorite"...I think you can guess what happened after that-

• The biggest shippers of you and Lady D are her daughters ofc! Around the half a year mark since you had started living there Cassandra confronted her mother, Cass being the most knowledgeable in love(she loves romance novels) told her mother to try rewarding you with a kiss to see your reaction, which did not disappoint-

• Having been working for Heisenberg for god knows how long before Alcina took you in meant that you haven't felt flesh on flesh contact in QUITE awhile leading to MAJOR touch starvation so when you finished cleaning the floors particularly quick one day and Lady D rewarded you with a kiss on the head let's just say you started...malfunctioning?- leading to her sending her daughters to kidnap a human from the village to come explain what tf was wrong with you

• Once she finds out what happened to you, and that it's not a bad thing, you can bet she does it SO OFTEN, she loves rewarding you with kisses, and cuddles if you officially get together, but she ESPECIALLY loves randomly kissing you for no reason, head, cheek, lips, she loves how red your face gets, almost blending in with the red lipstick marks, and the little squeaky sounds you make! Miranda meeting? Peck! A particularly big party? Peck! You're busy? Peck for the road! You're finally going to bed? Peck, peck, peck! No matter where, if you're there you will most likely get a kiss.

• It takes you SO LONG to wipe off all the kiss marks, ofc her lipstick had to be semi permanent, and once you finally get them off she's already putting new ones so you just stopped removing them after awhile, if you have to be around people you'll just put on some of Alcina's makeup over it

• One thing about Alcina is she lovessss her wine, but she also loves you, so I hope you like wine because this woman loves taking you into her winery and having little taste testing dates. The only catch? Why you taste them from her lips of course silly! She isn't going to be pouring two glasses Now, and she doesn't know your alcohol tolerance, so she takes a sip and gives you a kiss, sometimes with a bit of wine still in her mouth that she slips into yours, and by the time you come back from simpville she's already bombarding you with eager questions on the flavor, the intensity, would you like more?

Today was a long day already, you did NOT need another one of Alcina's spontaneous galas at the moment but you still put yourself together all nice for her. You felt you owed Lady D your life, and considering you used to work for Heisenberg...you probably did- so the least you could do was put on your best clothes and biggest fake smile for her.

You walked in and were immediately greeted by the loud and somewhat annoying cackling that you recognized all too well to be a quite drunk Heisenberg ranting off about his latest project. You groan and sigh at the spectacle that was your former boss before a large yet gentle hand grazes your back. "Sugar! I haven't seen you all day! How have you been?" Alcina smiles down at you as you smile tiredly up at her before she quite literally smothers you in kisses, picking you up almost crushingly in her strong arms and carrying you away to her table, eagerly rehashing her day as you two leave a seething Heisenberg watching from the corner.

Relationship archetype:

Jessica Rabbit X Roger Rabbit

Tall, stunning woman with a seductive allure and is stereotyped a player but loves her tiny partner to death X Tiny partner who doesn't know how they scored THAT but is SO not complaining

[angie-likes-to-art]

Fic Recs (Marvel Edition iv)

These are in order of how recently I read them, not in favorite order. All fics are fem!reader

Marvel One Two Three Harry Potter One Two Three Stranger Things One Two Three Four Five Six Specific Characters Tangerine Masterlist

First Date by @luveline

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader Summary: “you take care of a sick Peter on your would be first date. later, he returns the favour and makes some promises.”

Healing by @crispychrissy

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Nurse!Reader Summary: “Tasked with examining the injured soldiers that were liberated from the Hydra factory, one sergeant in particular gives you a run for your money.”

A Guide To Rebuilding Your Life by Peter Parker by @liberty-barnes

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader Summary: “After the events of NWH, Peter returns to his own universe determined to get his life back on track.”

Spider Lilies by @swimmingthroughthemilkyway

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader Summary: “you give peter flowers”

Crush by @ptersparkers

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader Summary: “peter has been visiting you as spider-man long enough to develop a crush on you. the problem? you have a crush on somebody else.”

Paparazzi by @lanadelreyscokewhor3 (18+ Only)

Pairing: Dark!Perv!Peter Parker x Innocent!Reader Summary: “as the outgoing, spontaneous cheerleader of the school, you arent too familiar with quieter people, such as peter parker. he sure is familiar with you though. soon, the photos and obsessions give him the courage to talk to you, which leads into his darker desires coming true.”

Best Friend’s Girl by @fqjth (18+ Only)

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x TASM!Harry Osborn x Reader Summary: “harry grows aware that his best friend has feelings for his girlfriend, confronting him one night at a party”

Our Girl by @spider-stark

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x TASM!Harry Osborn x Reader Summary: “ You're forced into attending a gala with Peter and Harry, where your best friends unintentionally plant a tempting idea in your head.”

5 Times There Was Only One Bed (and the one time there were two beds) by @mrs-elsie-barnes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Summary: “Whether it's on a mission, a work event or a holiday, your sleeping arrangements never seem to work out as planned. It doesn't really bother you until...it does. Confronted with a night sleeping apart, you and Bucky finally talk.”

Past Life by @thinkinnonsensee (18+ Only)

Pairing: dofp!Logan Howlett x mutant!Reader Summary: Logan meets his wife in the past, long before they would meet in his timeline.

Nasty Dog by @not-neverland06 (18+ Only)

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant!Reader Summary: “You'd thought you'd had a good thing going with Logan. You weren't officially anything to each other, but you were getting close. You truly saw a future with him, but he made it incredibly clear he did not feel the same”

Knuckle Velvet by @ohcaptains (18+ Only)

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader Summary: “he walks you home, then lets himself in.”

Patience Wears Thin by @reidsworld (18+ Only)

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Reader Summary: “Logan’s flirty behaviour has you thinking he’s just being sarcastic. But when his attitude changes and his grumpiness intensifies, leading to him avoiding you, you confront him, only for him to finally snap.”

Like a Moth to a Flame by @wannabespacesmuggler

Pairing: Lumberjack!Logan Howlett x Bartender!Reader Summary: “Logan Howlett is a dangerous man; at least, that's what he wants you to think when he first meets you during your shift at Lucky's. However, he only seems to prove the opposite as he becomes a more constant presence in your life. After learning his true identity in a dark back alley, he's certain you want nothing to do with him. But against your better judgment, you're drawn to him like a moth to a flame.”

[barbiebutgayer]

source: slow factory

Caption- “Notice how every new major invasion or attack by Israel is synonymous with major American entertainment events (the Super Bowl, the Grammy's, the Met Gala, etc).

What once was a conduit for culture, fashion's silence about the genocide of Gaza, leaves us wondering if it's been replaced as a conduit for pacification.

Today, Israel is invading Rafah, the place they've been telling over 2 million Palestinians to evacuate to as the last sate haven. Do not let this empty display distract us from the horrors they have planned. If fashion is supposed to make a statement, then we're waiting for something to be said about Palestine.

Immediate permanent ceasefire and complete end to the violent occupation NOW.”

{Image D.- A gray paper background with collage-style cut outs on top of celebrities at the MET Gala over the years. Below, in contrast to the images above, are collage-style cut outs of Palestinian people sheltering and trying to survive in Rafah. In the center of the graphic, black handwriting reads: "From Fashion to Fascism". Small black text below the handwriting reads: "The MET Gala is this evening with the theme: Sleeping Beauties". (Circled in thin pen) The text continues, highlighted in yellow: "The message: Remain asleep while USA/Israel enact a genocide.”

[nidoole]

I love the idea that Sirius is the Marauders’ and the Skittles’ professional outfit designer

Lily didn't know what belt suited her new dress? No probs babe Sirius will take his smoke break early and make her try on every one of her belts and heels until they find the combo

Evan and Barty are going out and they want to give passersby a heart attack? Sirius is in his kitchen munching on a tomato at 3 am Facetiming them, telling Evan to use those jeans as a top

It’s met gala or Paris fashion week? You know he, Dorcas and Regulus are out to get coffee, casually roasting the outfits to the ground

While his boyfriend’s fits consist of a wool sweater that two grandpas died in and trousers of a factory worker’s circa 1960

[the-fiction-witch]

Mr Crown

Media - Morbius Character - Lucien Crown Couple - Lucien Milo X OC Reader - (OC) Anastasia Morton (Assistant) Rating - flirty + Cute Word Count - 1435

Anastasia made a grand entrance as she sashayed into the opulent mansion. Her every step was marked by the distinct clicking of her black Louboutins against the marble floor. She wore sleek black stockings that complemented her skin-tight black dress, accentuated by a vibrant red belt. Her hair cascaded in carefully arranged curls, framing her face with effortless elegance. Around her neck, a delicate silver necklace shimmered, catching the light as she moved with grace and confidence.

Lucien couldn’t help but smile from his chair as he sat receiving his usual medication from his private doctor. He did have... A rather large crush on her, but surely he couldn't be blamed after all, to Lucien she was gorgeous! Not to mention her shapely body and large... Assets, the kind of chest you dream to squeeze, and a backside you fight the urge to spank. 

She played the crucial role of being his right-hand person, handling all administrative tasks, and managing the various businesses operating under the umbrella of Crown Industries. This company was involved in a wide range of ventures, from producing bottled water to providing private jets, and served as the source of his vast wealth and luxurious lifestyle.

"I hope I'm not disturbing Mr Crown," she said as professional as ever,

"You could never be disturbing, you have the right to disturb me any time of the day." he smiled, "That dress certainly suits you."

"Why thank you, sir," she cooed, "I must say, you're looking strong and handsome today," she cooed,

He chuckled at her praise, he knew he looked far from "strong" and "handsome" being as sick as he was, but he enjoyed the reassurance she gave him daily. A grin came to his face as he teased her in return. "Strong and handsome huh? Well, aren't you just so very charming today,"

She approached his chair and opened her folder, "Shall we?"

He let out a playful groan as she brought up the business, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint. Deep down, he wished she would abandon the business talk and join him in a more leisurely pursuit, like sitting on his lap for example? Nevertheless, he nodded in agreement, signalling his willingness to engage in the discussion. As he reclined, he adjusted himself to get comfortable, preparing for a serious conversation ahead.

"The accountant has finally returned my phone calls he is back from his vacation in Figi and the numbers are in, all separate LLCs and company holdings have doubled from last quarter. The factory strike has finished on the east coast with only minor recruits needed. The builders have sent the quote for the upgrades to the downstairs bathroom," She explained, "And ... We seem to be paying for a boat? Don't know when you got a boat and didn't tell me?"

Lucien listened intently, impressed by her efficiency in handling all the business dealings. He chuckled when she mentioned the boat. "A boat? can't say... I remember... buying a boat. Put a pause on that."

"Is it perhaps something to do with Michael?"

"Perceptive as always. Perhaps it is." He had a hint of playful sarcasm in his voice as he continued. "Nothing gets past you, does it?"

"I like to know where every dollar goes. And his lab has been a large drain lately so perhaps I'll schedule a call with him," she said, "Tomorrow is the gala, Thursday is the opening and next week is the ceremonies so I'll pencil the call in sometime next week,"

Lucien nodded a smirk on his face at her efficiency and attention to detail. He chuckled at her comment about Michael's lab, knowing all too well it was taking a big chunk out of his wallet. "That's my girl, always planning ahead." He cooed, "The call can wait until next week, there's no rush. How many times are we going to end up at galas this month? I've lost count."

"... Sixteen." She answered, "The charity equitable, the Upper Billion club, the grand gallery, the museum, the anniversary which is taking four slots alone. Along with all the business part summer garden events and of course the upper billion clubs gala auction tomorrow,"

His eyebrows raised as she rattled off the list of events and he let out a low whistle, looking at her in surprise. "Sixteen? Well, we're certainly going to be busy these next few months." He chuckled and shook his head, but beneath his amused expression, there was a hint of weariness. "I don't know how you keep up with it all. You must spend your life organizing my social calendar."

"I have plenty of time to organize your time. Mr crown" she answered just she dropped her pen, rolled her eyes and bent over to grab it,

However, she did so in front of Lucien her slightly crooked stocking and the hint of the top of her suspenders,

Lucien's eyes widened and his breath stuttered as he got a glimpse of her backside and the top of her suspenders, his gaze travelling up her figure as she stood back up. He swallowed and cleared his throat, trying to ignore the way her curves were emphasised by the tight dress.

"I... I see what you mean." He said in a slightly strained voice, a small smirk on his face as he tried to focus on the conversation. He slightly adjusts himself in the seat moving his hand a little to try and conceal that he was getting a hard-on from the sight, "I suppose I should just leave all the organizing to you then."

"It's what I do best, ohh I did get a call about tomorrow for the gala, asking to confirm your plus one," she asked,

Lucien chuckled when she asked about the plus one, knowing they went through this every time. He shrugged his shoulders, feigning nonchalance. "As always, you know I never have a date for those things." He looked at her for a second and an idea came to mind, he gave her a playful grin half kidding. "Unless you want to volunteer yourself, that is."

"As delightful as your company would be, I have enough work to do here,"

Lucien chuckled at her response, "Ah, of course, the ever-diligent assistant." He let out a theatrical sigh, "Here I am, the world's richest bachelor, and ... I can't even get a pretty girl to attend a gala with me. A mockery, really."

"Would you want me to?" She asked half teasing,

Lucien's smirk widened having not expected this usually it was only ever mentioned as a joke between them, but his gaze roamed over her figure appreciatively once again. "Now that's a stupid question, of course, I would. You're a beautiful and intelligent woman. What man in his right mind wouldn't want you on his arm?"

"Very well Mr crown. In that case, I'd like to drop off a last-minute holiday request for time off tomorrow morning in order to become adequately beautiful for such an event. And perhaps get use of the company credit card for a dress?"

Lucien chuckled, "Of course. I have no doubt you'll be gorgeous, as always. As for the credit card, consider it yours. Go and buy the most expensive dress you can find. Spare no expense."

"Thank you, sir. Well, be leaving at seven taking the Bentley."

Lucien nodded, a satisfied smirk on his face as he looked up at her, "Excellent. Seven o'clock it is. I'll be sure to be ready and waiting." He gave her a wink, his gaze roaming over her figure once more before settling back on her face.

"If that's all you need me for today Mr Crown?"

Lucien's gaze lingered on her figure for a moment longer, a faint hint of disappointment that she was leaving so soon. But he forced a smile onto his face as he nodded. "Yes, that's all I need for today. You better go and start getting ready for tomorrow." He leaned back in his chair and gave her a playful grin. "And remember spare no expense, the most expensive dress you can find I want you on my arm as the most beautiful woman for miles."

"I have a few ideas," She smiled fixing his hair and stroking her hand down his cheek,

Lucien's breath caught in his throat as she touched his hair and stroked his cheek, his gaze roaming over her face, taking in every feature. He leaned slightly into her touch, savouring the moment before she pulled away.

"Have a good evening, Lucien." She said as she headed out,

"You as well, my dear. Until tomorrow evening."

He watched her leave, his gaze lingering on her retreating figure, a mixture of longing and anticipation for tomorrow's event swirling within him.

[lady-z-writes]

(Jealous Karl x reader. "You're mine" smut)

Swear I thought I posted this, but here you go:

(ETA: ...I'd posted it in 2021, apparently. 🫣)

He'd made the decision to bring you, despite his best efforts to avoid this type of thing.

As soon as Alcina found out about you, she'd been urging him to join her little charade where she pretends to be a good oversized hostess.

She just wanted to get a taste of you, he was sure; lock eyes with you and hope to seduce you, steal you away from him.

Who knew the fucking caterer was going to be yet another threat.

The way he's staring at you makes Heisenberg notice. Sipping his whiskey, he keeps an eye on things as you chat kindly, probably unknowingly.

The smile on your face, the way you look in that outfit tonight - it's too much. He barely let you leave the factory without a mark on you; just in case someone got close enough to see the bite marks on your inner thigh.

You knew you were his. But with some alcohol in you, he wasn't so sure you'd behave yourself. Clearly, you hadn't started this interaction. Of course Heisenberg had been staring since you got up from the table; always an eye on things. He'd rather silently watch you than play socialite at Alcina's ridiculously over-the-top gala.

You'd been good, he just didn't trust the rest of these fuckers.

And the longer he stares, the more heated he's getting.

You'd noticed Heisenberg's staring. It was hard not to. He'd been grinding his teeth when he wasn't taking a sip of that almost-empty whiskey glass.

Speaking of, you knew you were meant to get the bottle from the server.

The caterer is nice enough but if he doesn't watch it, Heisenberg is going to make him into a mechanical plaything.

As you say goodbye, the caterer takes your hand and kisses the back of it. Totally flabbergasted, you shake your head at him.

"You need to stop," you say.

"Stop? We were having such a lovely chat. Perhaps we could have a drink under moonlight."

You glance over your shoulder, but Heisenberg isn't there.

Fuck.

"No, thank you," quickly, you back away toward the serving plater with the whiskey he likes.

It's gone.

Eyes wide, you gaze around the room to see if it's on anyone's table. If you come back without that bottle...-

Suddenly a familiar smell of cigar smoke overwhelms your senses. Glancing to your left, you notice Heisenberg's gaze fixed on you from a few feet away; whiskey bottle in hand.

"Come with me," he demands, shoving the bottle into your arms as he passes.

Before long, you're in a loading bay area, wrapping your arms around yourself from how cold you are suddenly.

"Karl, I-"

"Take your clothes off."

"What?"

He exhales smoke in your face as he shoves you against a crate.

"Now," he hisses.

Shivering, you follow orders, hand him the bottle of whiskey, watch him take a hefty gulp as he stares at your nakedness. As he hands you the bottle back, his eyes linger on the bite marks on your thigh.

You sip the booze in hopes it'll warm you up. Heisenberg takes pity on you - or maybe it's an act of ownership - but he gives you his coat and you're greedy for the warmth.

Not wasting time, he hoists you up, shoves you completely back on the oversized crate. It's freezing and hard but you don't sit up. You set down the booze before you spill it. Heisenberg pulls himself up, crawls over your body with a deep growl that exhales smoke around the cigar in his mouth. When he's eye-to-eye with you, he pops it out of his mouth, ashes it near you, uses his gloved fingers to uncover your right nipple from beneath his jacket. And then the left.

His eyes scan hungrily as he takes another inhale. You can feel him hard against your body and to be honest you're not surprised. It feels good to be this wanted.

He nods down at you and you know what he wants so wordlessly you undo his pants and belt. When his cock springs out, you guide it toward your naked pussy and let him shove himself inside you.

Arching your back, you moan out for him, knowing he wants you to be loud and the pressure of his thick cock is tender without any prep. But he wants it like this. It's a punishment of sorts.

"See you made a friend tonight," he grunts as he puts his cigar out beside your shoulder.

When he's completely in, you feel like you can finally speak. "N-no, that's not it at all. Karl, I-"

There isn't a second of hesitation: he starts pounding into you at such a pace, you can't help but grip his shoulders and whimper.

"You're mine," he growls. "You got that?"

"Yes."

"Say it," he grunts, biting your neck.

"I'm yours."

"Again."

"Karl, I'm yours!"

"Mmm, that's right. You are. You're mine to bite and to fuck. You're mine to make a scene about."

He's putting so much pressure on you, you're consumed by him and it's such an overwhelming feeling you can't help but love it.

"This cunt is mine to fill," he chuckles. "Oh? You're close, aren't you?" a deep laugh. "Bad girls don't get to cum."

You whine and grip him tighter. "No, I'm good. I promise."

"Oh, are you now?" he teases. You nod. "You look good...my jacket falling off your body like some centerfold...tits with my bitemarks on them, little marks from my facial hair...heh, it's like you're my little plaything."

"I'm yours," you whisper out, nodding against his chest as you feel your orgasm nearing. "Please, Karl, please."

He hums as if thinking it over. "One condition, doll."

"Anything."

"You sit in my lap and ride my cock while you cum."

You nod quickly and shift positions, staring in awe at him. This new position gives you so much pleasure. Your mouth is on his shoulder then kissing at his neck, moaning and crying out his name as you ride out your orgasm.

"Good girl," he laughs. "Ah, that's it, kitten...getting me so close."

After you've come down, your heartbeat in your ears, you kiss his neck again, open your eyes, throw your head back a second to stare at the ceiling as he pounds up into you.

It's only when you look straight ahead of you that you notice the door is open.

"Karl," you whisper, tapping him on the arm, trying to pull back.

It's too late. He's got an iron grip on your hips as he's moaning and pumping into you.

All while the caterer stands there in shock next to his crates of pastries.

"Get a good enough show there, bucko?" Heisenberg pants a yell over his shoulder where you're still staring in shock.

No response, just the sound of footsteps retreating.

You smack him on the bicep.

"You knew he was there."

He laughs loudly. "Of course I did!"

"Heisenberg!" you hiss.

"No harm. I didn't even kill him. Besides, look at that entire crate of pastries he left...just for us to sneak back to the factory."

You groan, hiding your face in his chest out of pure embarrassment.

"What? You're a sight when you're cumming. Probably gave that guy plenty to think about..."

"Can we go now?"

"Depends. Learned your lesson about talking to strangers?"

You roll your eyes.

"Yes, sir."

[nayziiz]

Team Dynamics | LN4

Summary: To celebrate the launch of their 2024 car for the upcoming F1 season, McLaren hosts a masquerade gala event that sees two souls connect and lead to a whirlwind romance. Unfortunately, the pair realise soon after that they are to work together quite closely after they agreed it would only be a one-night thing.

Warnings: Smut, alcohol, one night stand, unprotected sex

Pairing: Gemma (I don't like writing with Y/N or reader) x Lando Norris

Series Masterlist

PART 4

The reciprocity of Gemma's Instagram follow adds a layer of anticipation to Lando's daily routine. He finds himself frequently checking her profile, eagerly awaiting any new posts. However, Gemma maintains a certain mystery by refraining from sharing updates, leaving Lando to wonder about her activities.

As Gemma embarks on her first day in the paddock, she arrives early, greeted by the buzz of mechanics and a few interns. The morning unfolds in the McLaren hospitality suite, where she enjoys a quiet breakfast with newfound friends before the chaos of the day's activities commences.

Simultaneously, Lando, accompanied by his trainer, Jon, and Max, arrives early at the circuit. After engaging with fans and signing autographs, he eventually makes his way to the hospitality suite. Upon entering, Lando's eyes immediately scan the room, and his gaze locks onto Gemma's side profile. A brief moment of surprise and recognition crosses his face as he freezes in place. Gemma, initially unaware of his presence, turns to see who has entered the suite. When their eyes meet for the first time in weeks, a warm smile lingers on her lips, but before any further interaction can unfold, Lando hastily rushes out towards the garage. The unexpected encounter stirs a mix of emotions within Lando, leaving him grappling with the impact of seeing Gemma again after weeks of anticipation.

“Mate, where are you going? I thought you wanted breakfast?” Max asks as he hurries after his friend.

“She’s here. Why’s she here? She said she worked at the factory. What’s she doing here?” Lando blasts as he finds his driver’s room.

“Alright, calm down. It’s just a girl.” Max retorts.

“That’s not just a random girl, Max.” Lando breathes.

“Yeah, I think we’ve established that she’s your soulmate.” Max jokes and shakes his head at his friend.

As Lando sits down and pulls up Gemma's Instagram, he discovers a recent Story that she posted just before he arrived at the circuit. The image captures her breakfast with a caption that reads, 'First day things.' The realisation that she did share a glimpse into her day brings a mix of relief and curiosity to Lando. However, before he can delve deeper into his thoughts, his PR manager interrupts, urging him to join her for some media questions.

Meanwhile, Gemma, still in the hospitality suite, feels a sense of confusion over Lando's abrupt departure. His hurried exit leaves her pondering, and doubt creeps in—did he misinterpret something, or did he think she lied to him about her job? Gathering her things, she decides to head to the garage, still mulling over the unexpected encounter. As she makes her way toward the area where the cars are located, lost in her thoughts, she inadvertently collides with someone turning the corner.

The collision interrupts Gemma's internal musings, forcing her attention back to the present moment. She looks up to find herself face to face with a familiar face. The realisation dawns as she meets the eyes of the person she crashed into—a member of the McLaren team. The unexpected collision becomes a moment of connection, a reminder that amidst the chaos of the paddock, there are still opportunities for unexpected encounters and perhaps a chance to clarify the misunderstanding with Lando.

“Gemma.” Lando blurts out when he sees who he’s bumped into.

“Hi.” Gemma greets him as his PR manager stays behind him.

“You’re here.” Lando comments, surprise clear on his face.

“I got a promotion.” She explains.

“Gemma will be one of the analysts for Oscar’s car.” Susan, Lando’s PR manager, states, clarifying Gemma’s role and presence in the paddock.

“That’s great, congratulations.” Lando responds, turning back to face Gemma.

“Thanks.” Gemma smiles, suddenly feeling flustered and uncomfortable under his gaze. “I’ve got to get set up.”

Gemma smiles at Lando once more before she disappears to the pit wall. Lando watches her departure, appreciating the sight of Gemma dressed in the McLaren uniform and sneakers, a far cry from the elegant attire of the gala night. Despite the differences, he finds a certain allure in seeing her don the iconic papaya colours of the team.

“I didn’t know you two knew each other.” Susan comments as they get back to walking to the media pen.

“We met at the launch.” Lando explains. “She’s a smart one. Good thing she’s helping us here, though.”

“I’ll rather not ask for any more information, but, please Lando, don’t make a mess of it with her. Just keep your head down and focus on racing.” Susan suggests. “We’re looking to win a championship, not having to diffuse any scandals.”

“Yeah, we’re just friends.” Lando agrees as he follows Susan to the media pen.

As Gemma reaches the pit wall, Zak Brown, McLaren's CEO, leaps out of his seat with a welcoming smile. Eager to acknowledge Gemma's presence and contributions, he extends his hand to shake hers. With genuine enthusiasm, Zak introduces her to the engineers and team members gathered around him, highlighting her role as one of the analysts for Oscar's car.

Gemma, grateful for the warm reception, exchanges greetings with the engineers. The pit wall becomes a dynamic space buzzing with activity, and Gemma quickly immerses herself in the professional environment. As she takes her place among the McLaren team, the camaraderie and shared passion for racing create a sense of belonging, marking the beginning of a new chapter in her career within the world of Formula 1.

“I was so happy to hear you accepted our offer.” Zak comments.

“It’s a wonderful opportunity, thank you.” Gemma states as Oscar approaches them.

“Oscar!” Zak exclaims. “Just in time. Oscar, this is Gemma Mayfield. She’s going to be one of the analysts for your car.”

“Hi, very nice to meet you.” Oscar greets Gemma and shakes her hand.

“Nice to meet you too, Oscar.” Gemma responds.

As the conversation unfolds on the pit wall, Gemma and Oscar delve into the intricacies of the upcoming race. They discuss Oscar's expectations based on pre-season testing, analysing data and strategies to ensure a strong performance on the track. The professional exchange transitions into a more personal topic as Oscar mentions his girlfriend's interest in karting but reluctance to let him be her teacher.

Gemma, always up for a challenge, offers a solution. “Tell Lily I'd be happy to take her out for a karting experience during the season. I can keep an eye on her while you focus on your racing duties.” Gemma suggests with a friendly smile.

Oscar, appreciative of the offer, gladly exchanges numbers with Gemma to facilitate the planning of this karting excursion for Lily. The exchange not only solidifies a professional connection but also introduces a friendly dynamic between Gemma and Oscar, creating a sense of camaraderie within the McLaren team as they prepare for the challenges of the upcoming race season.

In the brief interlude between FP1 and FP2, Oscar and Lando find themselves engaged in conversation. The atmosphere in the McLaren garage is alive with the sounds of mechanics fine-tuning the cars, and the air is charged with the anticipation of the upcoming session.

“Have you met your new data analyst yet?” Lando wonders.

“Gemma? Yeah, she’s great.” Oscar responds. “She’s offered to take Lily karting.”

“Did she?” Lando smiles.

“Wait. Why’re you asking about my data analyst?” Oscar asks.

“No reason, really. I met her at the car launch and haven’t really spoken to her since. She was still working in the factory at that point.” Lando explains.

“Ah. She doesn’t happen to be the mystery girl you’ve been hinting at since pre-season testing?” Oscar teases with a knowing look.

“Possibly.” Lando shrugs.

“I can send you her number if you ask nicely.” Oscar informs his teammate.

“Please, Osc.” Lando pleads. Oscar chuckles before unlocking his screen and sending Gemma’s number to Lando.

“Just don’t tell her I gave it to you.” Oscar implores.

“I won’t. Thanks, mate.” Lando speaks as he heads to his driver’s room.

In the quiet solitude of his hotel room after the second practice session, Lando finds himself caught in a whirlwind of contemplation. The ambient glow from the bedside lamp casts a warm hue across the room as he sits on the edge of the bed, fingers idly tapping on his phone screen, contemplating the decision to reach out to Gemma. The weight of unspoken words and lingering emotions hangs in the air, leaving him both hesitant and eager to bridge the gap that has formed between them.

With Gemma's contact pulled up on his phone, Lando stares at the screen, pondering the right words to convey the complexity of his thoughts. The room seems to echo with the tension of unspoken sentiments, and after a moment of internal debate, he presses the call button, the device coming to life as he holds it to his ear.

As the phone rings, thoughts race through Lando's mind, each chime signalling a step closer to an uncertain outcome. Finally, Gemma's voice breaks the silence on the other end of the line.

“Hello?” Gemma asks once she answers the phone, her voice filled with a mixture of curiosity and surprise.

“Hi, stranger.” Lando replies, a playful tone underscoring his words.

“Lando?” Gemma questions, her voice betraying a hint of uncertainty.

“Happy to hear you recognise my voice.” He teases, attempting to lighten the atmosphere.

“Mmh.” She hums in response, her voice a soft acknowledgment that lingers in the air.

“You know, I’ve got a bone to pick with you.” He tells her, his tone playful yet carrying a hint of genuine concern.

“You do?” She replies, curiosity colouring her response.

“Yeah. I give you possibly the best night of your life only for you to dip before I even wake up.” He informs her, a blend of humour and mild reproach in his words. The atmosphere between them holds a mix of lighthearted banter and an underlying current of vulnerability, as if they are tiptoeing around the unspoken emotions that linger in the wake of their shared experience.

“I did leave you a gift, though, didn’t I?” Gemma counters, taunting him.

“So you did. But, I couldn’t even make you breakfast.” He adds.

“It was just a one time thing, Lando. I didn’t think it would be appropriate to expect breakfast.” She explains. “No strings, remember?”

“So, we can’t even be friends?” Lando wonders.

“Friends?” Gemma repeats.

“Or nothing at all.” Lando quickly replies.

“We can be friends.” Gemma finally agrees.

“You don’t regret anything?” Lando asks.

“No, I most certainly do not regret a thing.” Gemma assures him. “Do you?”

“I would be insane if I did.” Lando responds, causing Gemma to chuckle.

“You’re quite persistent.” Gemma states.

“Again, I’d be insane if I wasn’t.” He informs her. “So, tell me, would my friend like to join me for dinner later?”

“Lando-” She starts, but cuts herself off. “Let’s just be friends first before we do anything together, especially alone.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Lando reluctantly agrees. Gemma was dead set on keeping things professional and to keep their one time fling in the past.

“But, I’ll have breakfast with you in hospitality before qualifying.” Gemma suggests as a consolation. “You know, to make up for the fact that I left before you woke up.”

“I’ll take that.” Lando smiles, even though she can’t see him.

Their conversation, though laced with playful banter, hints at a complex mix of emotions and unspoken desires, leaving the future of their connection uncertain yet intriguing.

[moonshynecybin]

Wait wait wait WAITTT

Now that Pecco is clearing all the air, sweeping the porch, sprinkling perfume to welcome marc in the factory Ducati. If it is announced before his wedding, does Marc get an invite (actually let's assume he's getting it). And Marc will go. Obviously. Dressed like it's the met gala the theme being omegas in heat and Marc is the only one who can save it. Marc at Vale's eldest daughters wedding scenarios please. Great if Marc takes someone other than alex as plus one

under no circumstances do i think queen domizia wants marc at her wedding did you SEEEE the side eye she shot at him in parc ferme i GASPED ! and i frankly don’t think marc would even goooooo ESPECIALLY without alex lmao. vipers nest in his brain. that being said let’s say ducati is crazy and makes him go for unspecified totalitarian contract reasons. and also my situations.

so! this IS the nightmare scenario for marc. like he is absolutely the loneliest little girl at the school dance. no alex no friends everyone’s italian he’s surrounded by competitors all of whom don’t fuck with him ANDDDD vale’s there with uccio pretending he doesn’t exist (shooting little glances at marc from across the room when he isn’t looking. hyper aware of where he is at all times.) it’s like one of those dreams where you try to wake urself up bc it’s a HORROR MOVIE but he can’t. alone at the bar kinda night. (i will add. even in his distress he DID dress well he looks GOOD. smells INSANE. fitted tux ass goes crazy. meanwhile vale is in a crisp white cotton t shirt worth more than my car. and khakis. marc is miserably horny about it.)

i think we stare down two scenarios here. if he isn’t allowed to leave lmao. ONE! bezz takes sweet loverboy pity on him (alsooo feels weird about pecco’s wedding as he said on that podcast. he’s not elegant he IS single and he does i think lowkey feel the chapter of his life where he’s hanging out as a bachelor with his fun bestie is over. like okay jo march 👍) and decides to take (HIGHLY suspicious but would never show it) marc under his wing not unlike say. rescuing an undersocialized pit bull puppy in need of a home. sticks with marc most of the night once he realizes marc has NOBODY. gets him a lil drunk. tries to make him laugh. throws it back on the dancefloor. maybeeee thinks about kissing him at the end of the night but instead they end up talking about vale. somehow. after that they aren’t friend but marc will call him bezz and fist bump him occasionally. neither of them notice valentino’s WHITE HOT stare on the back of their necks after that lmao

SCENARIO TWO.

saddest little hot girl. runs into vale in the bathroom. vale’s been watching him all night and vice versa they’ve been building to something they KNOWWWW how this was gonna end. and vale’s seen how lonely he is feels a leedle guilty but would DIEE before he let marc know that. odd little stilted convo slides quickly into something catastrophically horny and they end up with marc like. sucking vale’s dick against the wall as vale tells him he’s pretty. petting through his too short aging crisis hair. vale finishes and gets marc off slick and nasty with his hand. fixing his tie in absolute dead silence fixated on liek. the red slick skin of his upper lip. wondering if it would be hot to the touch. and because it’s a wedding and they were tipsy it’s like. okay that happened. we can ignore it forever 👍 and then they get to the next race weekend and they CANT

[sossegato]

"This is the same as always, "the black enslaved and the woman in the kitchen". But it is my opinion and you must respect it. I don't understand all this world war against Hitler, he simply had his opinions on jews. Anyway, so goes the world."

"So many scientists in the world manufacturing bombs, so many smart people building objects for space, so many medication factories and there's no one who can deal with the chinese shit. Ultimately a whole circus show for a new variant of the flu, bird or corona."

“More and more the #Oscars are looking like a ceremony for independent and protest films, I didn’t know if I was watching an Afro-Korean festival, a Black Lives Matter demonstration or the 8M. Apart from that, an ugly, ugly gala.”

“Let me get this straight, a guy tries to pass off a counterfeit bill after consuming methamphetamine, an idiot policeman arrives and goes too far in arresting him, killing him, ruining the lives of his family and his colleagues, and turning the guy with the bill into a martyr hero,” [referring to George Floyd]

“I truly believe that very few people ever cared about George Floyd, a drug addict and a hustler, but his death has served to highlight once again that there are those who still consider black people to be monkeys without rights and those who consider the police to be murderers. All wrong.”

And of course, comparing criticism of Emilia Pérez to the Holocaust:

[littlefankingdom]

I need y'all to understand that Bruce is not a normal billionaire. He is a billionaire because it's useful to the plot, but he is not a billionaire like our billionaires. Don't make him say or do shits billionaires do, he is not like that.

I just have enough of the posts and fics where people makes Bruce pro-capitalist, a finance bro with nfts or against leftist ideas like free housing because "the economy 😭😭". That's not him at all, and y'all are showing that you only saw the Lego Batman movie.

First, Bruce pays his taxes and hates that other rich don't. It is shown in Future State: Dark Detective, where he literally says that rich people who don't contribute to making society better kind of deserve to be killed by a vigilante. Murder is still bad, but he will not cry them AT ALL.

Second, Bruce hates how people abuse the housing markets, rising the prices, kicking out poor people, you know the drill. This is shown in Batman: White Knight, when Bruce PUNCHES his rich FRIEND at a gala after learning that the guy is buying properties in Crime Alley, kicks the poor people out and build new apartments complexes with rent way too high for the old residents. In Gotham Knights (the comics), he tests Lucius by playing the normal rich asshole and being like "we can't take money from the shareholders, these hard working folks, to help the poor", because he wants to see if it will make Lucius angry. Once it does, he is like "good, you should be" and tell him he will sign it. Not being mad at the inequalities in the world is not acceptable for Bruce.

Thirdly, Batman: The Animated Series often establishes how the real vilains are not the rogues but rich people. Bruce doesn’t disagree with Poison Ivy or Mr Freeze, but with their methods. Bruce doesn’t hate his rogues, because he knows they were pushed to a corner, but he hates the rich in charge. The owner of a company is shown to be a bad guy because he doesn't think his workers deserve to have a say in the company. Seriously, if BTAS was made today, we would be submerged with tweets and videos from people crying that they made Batman a communist.

Fourthly, while we are at it with BTAS, Bruce cares about the environment. I have seen this terrible panel of Bruce, as Batman, being mad that Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn destroyed a WE factory who was heavily polluting, which is ooc. In BTAS, Bruce is shown threatening to fire WE higher-ups because they made a partnership with a company hurting the environment. This partnership is why Poison Ivy targets him in the episode and tries to kill him, btw, which shows once again that they agree on the matter, it's the murder the problem. Outside of BTAS, must I remind everyone that Bruce was going to marry Talia Al Ghul and that Ra's Al Ghul saw a heir in him??? Like, he has to be a bit of an ecologist for ECO-TERRORISTS to love him this much. Also, Alfred said to Dick when he joined their household that Alfred wants ecological issues to be taken care of. No way would Bruce not has been raised to care about the environment, or would harm the planet knowing Alfred doesn't like it.

Finally, WE has multiple charities and organizations dedicated to help people in Gotham. WE gives jobs to ex-convicts and help them in getting rehabilitate. Bruce feeds, clothes and houses the poor, he pays for any damage done by vigilantes or rogues. He has money to give and he gives it. AND all the galas exist so he can take money from the rich to give to the poor. He even encourages Dick in Nightwing (2016) to manipulate as much as possible his guests to milk their money. Bruce wants to take from the rich to help the poor, that's always been the case.