#I did finish this so that’s a win over the last two races. anyway

[theonottsbxtch]

MATCH MADE IN HELL PT1 | MV1

an: i am slowly finally finishing off all my requests and this was one of them, i had so much fun and my dear friend loved reading this so i hope i did justice to the request. anyway max hmu x

wc: 2.2k

part two | part three

THE CHAMPAGNE WAS STILL STICKY when she found out.

She had spent the past hour celebrating—laughing, grinning until her cheeks ached, drinking in the sight of thousands of fans chanting her name. World Champion. The first female Formula 1 World Champion. The words tasted sweeter than the bubbly that had been poured over her head on the podium.

And then it all shattered.

She hadn’t even been looking for it. Her phone had been left abandoned in the motorhome while she basked in the euphoria of her win. It was only when she returned, still buzzing from the adrenaline, that she saw the messages. A handful of texts from a friend, a link, and a simple message that made her stomach turn cold.

I’m so sorry. You deserve better.

Curious, still lightheaded with joy, she clicked the link.

And there it was. Photos. A grainy shot of Nathan at a club in Monaco three months ago, another in Dubai during the summer break, then one just last week in Austin. Always with the same woman. A brunette with legs for days and a familiar smirk. Someone from the team, if she wasn’t mistaken.

Her throat closed up, fingers trembling as she scrolled, every image a knife to the gut. It wasn’t just a drunken mistake. It was calculated. Repeated. Lied about.

Nathan fucking Donovan. Her teammate. Her fiancé. The man she had trusted with her heart, her career, her future.

The sound of the paddock outside was muffled, drowned out by the rushing in her ears as she dropped her phone. For years, she had turned down every offer from Red Bull. They had been calling since her first podium, since her first win. They had wanted her, but she had always said no. Because of Nathan. Because she had wanted to win with him. Because they were a team, a partnership, a power couple.

She bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood.

She had been a fool.

By the time she lifted her head, the decision was made. She wiped her damp hands on her race suit and reached for her phone. The Mercedes crest on her chest suddenly felt suffocating, like a brand that no longer belonged to her.

Her fingers moved with a steadiness that surprised her as she typed out a message to her agent.

Call Red Bull. I’m ready to talk.

That was six months ago.

Now, she had her foot down on full throttle, fighting her teammate.

The roar of the Red Bull RB20’s engine vibrated through her bones as she flicked the car into the corner, tyres screaming as they clung to the edge of grip. Ahead of her, her teammate—Max Verstappen, two-time world champion and an arrogant bastard on his best days—held position, defending like his life depended on it.

It had been like this all season. A relentless, brutal fight for the title. They had the fastest car on the grid, Red Bull’s latest engineering marvel, but they weren’t teammates in any real sense of the word. No teamwork. No cooperation. Just war.

And she was winning.

Six months ago, she'd walked out of Mercedes with her head held high, ringless finger curled into a fist. The world had lost its mind. The media had spun its stories, her ex-fiancé—Nathan Donovan, lying, cheating, spineless piece of shit—had played the heartbroken victim, and the fans had taken sides. But she hadn’t cared then, and she didn’t care now.

Let them talk.

She’d spent years at Mercedes, loyal to a fault, standing by Nathan’s side because she’d thought they were a team, on and off the track. And he’d thrown it away. Lied to her face. Made a fool of her.

So, she’d made sure to humiliate him in return.

Signing with Red Bull had been the first strike. The second had been selling the place they lived in, after all it was in her name - not her problem that he had nowhere to live for two months.

Now, the third was coming—because with two races left in the season, she was leading the championship. And Nathan? A non-factor.

The thought made her press harder on the throttle. The car twitched under her, skimming the edge of disaster, but she held it steady. She was close. A tenth behind Verstappen, closing fast.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” her race engineer crackled through the radio.

She smirked.

Too late.

The gap was nothing now. Less than a tenth.

She was right on Max’s gearbox, weaving slightly in his mirrors, making sure he knew she was there. The car felt alive beneath her, the Red Bull’s aerodynamics biting into the tarmac, begging to be unleashed.

Final lap. Final sector.

Max was still defending, but she could see the cracks. He was too focused on keeping her behind, positioning his car to block, reacting rather than attacking. And that was his mistake.

She took the wider line into the penultimate corner, knowing he’d cover the inside. Then, in a move that was either genius or madness, she lifted off ever so slightly, making him think he’d done enough—before throwing everything into the exit.

Tyres screamed, her car twitched—then hooked. She got the drive she needed, rocketing past him just before the final turn.

Too late for him to do anything.

The chequered flag waved. She crossed the line first.

“YES!” Her own voice rang through the radio, pure adrenaline and triumph. “Fucking get in!”

Her engineer was shouting in her ear, the Red Bull garage was on their feet, and somewhere, she knew, Nathan was watching. Watching as she won. Watching as she proved, once again, that she was better than him.

The thought made the victory even sweeter.

She pulled up into parc fermé, hands shaking with the aftershock of adrenaline as she switched off the car. A second later, Max’s Red Bull rolled in beside her, stopping with just enough aggression to make his frustration clear.

She smirked.

Helmet still on, she climbed out, raising a fist to the cheering crowd before stepping onto the scales. Cameras flashed, capturing every second. She could already imagine the headlines.

She turned just as Max yanked off his helmet, dark blonde hair a mess, jaw clenched. He took one look at her, exhaled sharply through his nose, then muttered, “Fucking hell.”

She grinned. “That’s what you get for leaving the door open.”

His eyes narrowed. “That was not a door. That was a crack in the wall.”

She shrugged. “Still got through, didn’t I?”

Max let out a sharp breath, shaking his head, but there was something else in his expression. Not just frustration. Something almost… impressed.

He wouldn’t admit it. Wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. But she could see it, clear as day.

And the best part?

No matter how much of an arse he could be, she knew one thing for certain: he hated Nathan as much as she did.

banner-

The post-race press conference was the usual mix of adrenaline, exhaustion, and barely concealed hostility.

She sat in the middle, winner’s seat, hands wrapped around a bottle of water, pretending to listen as the moderator rattled off formalities. Max was to her left, arms crossed, jaw still set in frustration. Charles—third place finisher—was on her right, mostly just happy to be there.

The first few questions were routine. Race strategy, tyre management, overtaking opportunities. She answered smoothly, flashing the occasional smirk at Max whenever someone mentioned her overtake. Each time, his jaw tightened just a little more.

Then, inevitably, someone brought up Nathan.

A journalist from one of the more sensationalist outlets leaned forward, microphone in hand, voice dripping with feigned innocence.

“Amazing drive today, congratulations. Obviously, this is a huge result in the championship fight, but I have to ask—do you think your performance this season has been motivated at all by… personal matters? Specifically, your past relationship with Nathan Carter?”

The air in the room shifted.

She had heard a lot of bullshit in these pressers, but this? This was almost impressive in how blatant it was.

She opened her mouth, already crafting the sharpest, most dismissive response possible—

But Max got there first.

He leaned forward, elbow on the table, voice dripping with casual disdain.

“Yeah, mate, I’m sure she’s leading the championship because of her ex. Not because she’s fucking fast or anything.” He raised a brow. “You want to ask me if my performance is motivated by my tragic breakup in 2022? Or is this just reserved for women?”

Silence.

The journalist blinked, momentarily stunned. Then stammered, “I—I was just—”

Max tilted his head. “Just what?”

She bit the inside of her cheek, fighting back a smirk.

The moderator swiftly cut in, moving things along, but the damage was done. The clip would be everywhere within the hour, and Max knew it. He settled back in his chair, arms crossed once again, looking completely unbothered.

She glanced at him, just briefly.

Still not friends. But maybe, just maybe, a little less like enemies.

After the press conference, she barely made it two steps out the door before Max fell into step beside her.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” he said, casually twisting the cap off his water bottle.

She snorted. “For what?”

He gave her a pointed look. “For shutting down that absolute cunt before you could say something that’d get you fined.”

“I don’t need you to fight my battles.”

“Clearly.” He took a sip of water. “But I like watching them.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. She wasn’t about to admit it, but watching that journalist’s face crumble had been the highlight of her day—besides the win, obviously. And Max had delivered it with all the effortless arrogance of a man who lived to piss people off.

They reached their driver rooms, the doors right next to each other. She pushed hers open, stepping into the quiet, adrenaline still thrumming in her veins. Her suit was damp with sweat, her body still buzzing from the intensity of the race, but it was a good feeling. A victorious one.

She had just pulled her race suit down to her waist, reaching for a towel, when she heard a door open behind her.

Not hers.

Max’s, probably—except the footsteps that followed weren’t his.

A slow, deliberate clap echoed through the room.

“Well done. You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

Her entire body went rigid.

She turned.

Nathan stood in the doorway, arms crossed, face carefully neutral—but his eyes gave him away. Cold. Calculating.

She exhaled sharply through her nose. “What the fuck do you want?”

Nathan stepped inside, letting the door click shut behind him. “You need to cut the shit.”

She laughed, crossing her arms. “You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific, mate.”

His jaw tightened. “The comments. The narrative you’re letting people run with. It’s damaging my reputation.”

“Your reputation?” She arched a brow. “Pretty sure you did that yourself when you stuck your dick where it didn’t belong.”

His expression flickered, just for a second, before the mask slipped back into place.

“I’m serious,” he said, stepping closer. “I have lawyers. You keep dragging my name through the mud, and I’ll make sure it costs you.”

She tilted her head. “Is that a threat?”

He shrugged. “A warning.”

She scoffed, turning away, but he kept going.

“I mean it,” Nathan said, voice dropping lower. “This little act of yours—playing the scorned woman, running off to Red Bull like a child—it's pathetic. You think people actually respect you? They’re laughing at you.”

She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to stay calm.

“Must be humiliating,” he continued, almost conversationally. “Knowing you were just something to pass the time. A placeholder.”

Her fingers curled into fists.

Then he said it.

“Fucking whore.”

The door slammed open so hard it bounced off the wall.

Nathan barely had time to react before he was shoved backwards, his back hitting the wall with a dull thud. A forearm pressed hard against his throat, holding him in place.

Max.

His entire body was tense, his usually sharp, arrogant expression now twisted into something far more dangerous.

Nathan made a strangled noise, trying to push him off. “What the—”

“Say that again,” Max said, voice low, lethal.

Nathan swallowed, his eyes flicking to her.

Max pressed harder. “Go on. I fucking dare you.”

Silence.

Nathan was many things—arrogant, selfish, manipulative—but he wasn’t stupid.

Max held him there for a moment longer, just to make a point, then finally let go, stepping back like Nathan wasn’t even worth the energy.

Nathan straightened his shirt, swallowing whatever insult he’d been about to throw. His eyes flicked between them, then he scoffed. “You two deserve each other.”

Then he turned and walked out.

The second the door shut, the room was quiet again.

Max exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off the tension. “Fucking hell.”

She blinked at him, still processing what just happened. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He turned to her, dark eyes unreadable. “Yeah, I did.”

And then, just like that, he walked out, leaving her standing there, pulse racing, wondering what the hell just happened.

part two...

taglist: @alexisquinnlee-bc @carlossainzapologist @oikarma @obxstiles @verstappenf1lecccc @hzstry8 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @anamiad00msday @linnygirl09 @mastermindbaby @iamred-iamyellow @isaadore

[gaynfls]

howdy

[no-144444]

strong- c.sainz

summary: ferrari is done with him, you're not.

pairing: carlos sainz x fem! leclerc! reader

(kind of a part two to this, but it can be read on its own!)

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The last dance with Ferrari, and you were waiting at the finish line for him. You weren’t there to celebrate your brother, il Predestinato, the Prince of Monaco, you were there for him. It had been a few weeks since Las Vegas, and while you were attempting to mend your relationship, Charles was digging his feet into the dirt to make your life so much harder. He barely let you into the garage during FP1 in Abu Dhabi, trying to exclude you from the family as much as he could. 

Carlos and Arthur didn’t let it happen. They wanted you there, and not everything was about Charles. Carlos had learnt well to play second fiddle to Charles, always being the one people looked at second. But you looked at him first. You looked at him with all of the love in the world when he stepped up onto that podium, when he lifted his trophy to you. He thanked whatever had sent you to him, because he wasn’t sure how he’d get through Ferrari dropping him otherwise. 

You smiled when he came back to the garage. “My love,” you whispered, your eyes misty from the emotions of it all. “You are amazing. I love you.”

He smiled, wrapping you up in his arms as he held you close. He never knew if he’d feel like this again, get on that podium again, but he knew that either way, you’d be by his side. “I love you too, mi corazón.”

Charles pushed your shoulder, knocked you both back. “This is how you show me who you love more, huh?” he scoffed. “You don’t get to have everything, who’s garage will you be in next year, huh? You really want to tear me and Carlos apart?” 

Charles and Carlos had made up. They were friendly again, but Charles just couldn’t shake the fact that you had picked him when you were confronted with the question. 

“You and Carlos will be fine, if you want to make this a big deal because your ego is hurt, that’s not my problem Charles. We both know you would pick Alex over me anyways, so I really don’t care,” you shot back, sick of his bullshit. 

“Blood is thicker than water, isn’t that what father believed?” he questioned, his eyes blazing with anger. 

You stilled. Carlos felt it. 

“Our father gave up everything for you to race in a Ferrari, and you can’t even win a fucking championship. Do you think he’d be proud?” your words cut through the both of you like a knife. 

“It’s not like him asking you to stop racing meant anything, you would’ve never become anything!” he shouted, stepping closer and closer. 

“I did,” you whispered, your eyes spilling with tears despite your curt and collected tone. “I’m a happy, loved person who doesn’t need a racecar to make me feel strong or big. I don’t need a red suit or a helmet to show the real me, and I’m not the one who’s playing second fiddle to Lewis Hamilton next year, Charles,” you wiped away your tears, turning to Carlos who looked at you with all the care in the world. 

“Enjoy your break,” Charles muttered. “Carlos, enjoy your backmarker team!” he called after himself. 

“I’m sorry,” Carlos whispered, pulling you against his chest. “You shouldn’t have to make those decisions for me.” “I will,” you whispered. “I’d do anything for you.”

He rubbed a hand up and down your back, a sense of pride blossoming in his chest. His girl was strong.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[lilghostiequinni]

Remember When

Main Masterlist Lando Masterlist

Pairing: Piastri!female oc (Eliza;Lizi;Liz) x Lando Norris

Warnings: Fluffy, little Angst, Pregnancy talk, Indications of smut

Summary: She's older than her brother. She doesn't drive for the sport, but she does follow the sport, and has been even before her brother's appearance with McLaren, who she's been supporting before her brother joined. She has friends on the grid, but one thing she does that isn't conventional or has anything to do with her everyday life is... collecting scale-model racing helmets from her favorite teams and drivers. She also designs helmets and redesigns already-worn helmets. Even though this has nothing to do with her job and lifestyle. But what happens when she predicts a maiden win in Maimi after her brother invites her to the 2024 Maimi Grand Prix?

Requested: NO / yes

"Liz, I know you are hours away, but can you come to Maimi?" Oscar asks his older sister over the phone after he lands in Maimi for the 2024 Maimi Grand Prix.

"I wouldn't be able to get there until late Friday, early Saturday. Maybe even midday on Saturday," Eliza told her brother as she walked around her classroom on the other side of the phone.

Oscar wanted his sister to come because the first time he got a pole position, she called, and the first time Max won a Grand Prix and the first world championship, she called before the second race even happened.

He's hoping her coming will bring luck to McLaren.

Also, he knows that his sister is a fan of Lando's and has never met him, even though she's been to several Grand Prix since 2019, Lando's rookie year.

Though most of the time she was either there with Red Bull or on her own in the stands, which has been the case for the two races she had attended so far, Saudi Arabia and Australia.

"Please, I'll see if Max will let you use his plane. Please, Lizi, I want you here," Oscar begged as he ran his fingers through his hair; he had talked to Zak, and everything was ready; her birthday was on Quali day, Saturday, and he had worked months on what he wanted to get her and a surprise, which involved her hobby of designing and collecting helmets and her first meeting with Lando Norris.

Granted, the driver had no idea that he was a part of the surprise, yet anyway, at least.

Oscar just needed his sister to agree to come to Maimi from New York to get her to travel almost the 1,300 miles between the two distances.

"Please, I want you here. That way, I can give you your present from everyone on time and not on Monday when I would've come," Oscar pulled the 'It's your birthday card.' He knew it was one way to get his sister to fold, but he played it with the 'I want you here' card in his, 'but I'm your little brother voice.' All of these are strategies that he has learned will make his sister fold and agree.

So, maybe his hope to not use a little persuasion didn't go as planned, but he had seen no other way.

"You'll get full VIP Paddock passes," Oscar finishes off; yeah, there was no way his sister would say no.

"Fine, I'll talk to my boss. I was going to come to Italy and Monaco, you know that, right?" Liz says to her brother as she finally caves.

"Yeah, but do they fall on your birthday or even close to your birthday?" Oscar questions his sister.

"No," there's a moment of pause on the line. "Hey, Osc, I have to go. duty calls. I'll see you Saturday."

"See you then," then the phone is hung up.

Oscar does a little dance and pumps his fists as he turns to the door and sees an amused Lando.

"What are you doing?"

"Celebrating."

"Why?" Lando looks at his teammate in confusion.

"My older sister is coming, and the last time she was actually in the Paddock was last year," Oscar says.

Oscar did ask Max to get his sister from the entrance and give her her pass to get in as he was called over by Zak just ten minutes before she was set to arrive at the race.

Max was happy to do it because the older Piastri was one of his best friends, probably his best friend outside the grid entirely.

Max stood near the entrance as he texted the woman, who quickly told him she was waiting at the entrance when he looked over and saw her.

He walked over to her and swiped the pass, allowing her through before giving her the pass, "So, I know we usually say no presents for the other's birthday, but you got me one last year, so I'm giving you won this year."

Liz looked at the Dutchman and shook her head as she followed him to Red Bull after quickly texting her brother, letting him know that she was there, and making a quick stop in Red Bull to get the present from Max.

"Here," Max handed her a box, which she took and set on the table. "Happy Birthday."

Eliza looked at the taller man with a bored look as she went to pull the top of the box off, and Sergio came over.

"Hello," Checo said as Liz waved and continued to open the box.

Eliza looked in and saw it was the scale model of a helmet she had designed and had only given the sketch of the helmet to Max, she looked to her friend with wide eyes, and he motioned for her to keep going.

She did, finding not one but three more scale model helmets she designed and gave Max, and also two of his scale model helmets she didn't have.

She again looked to Max and threw her arms around him with tears in her eyes.

Sergio smiled at the scene, "When you're done, I also have something for you."

Liz let go of Max and looked to Sergio, a little skeptical, "You didn't have to get me anything. I hardly let Max get me anything."

It wasn't that she didn't like the Mexican, Sergio was one of her favorites, just that she rarely liked getting presents, usually only from her close family, as they wouldn't let her say no.

She doesn't like presents because they're surprises, and in the last 10 years of her life, she has developed a dislike for surprises after the Year 9 incident, which resulted in her move to America.

"I know, but I heard you talking to Max about books you wanted a few weeks ago in Australia, then I heard Max say it was your birthday today, so I got you some," Sergio, ever the sweetest at least when not competing.

Eliza smiled at the man as he as well turned and grabbed a box, he put it next to the one Max gave, and she opened it to see the books she had only been raving about for the last three months, at least.

She hugged Sergio and told him thank you before Max once again drew her attention back to him.

"I may have also gotten you another present, but I gave it to your brother to give to you because he asked to see it, and then before he gave it back, I was told to come get you from the gates," Max says as Sergio is beckoned away.

Liz nodded at the statement that was made and saw someone trying to get Max's attention from behind him, "You are wanted. I'll see you later, and I'll talk to Osc about that other present you wanted to give me."

It's Max's turn to look behind him then nod, giving his best friend one final hug before turning and going to the man that was beckoning him over as Eliza walked out of Red Bull with her two boxes.

She made her way through the paddocks and to McLaren, where she saw her brother waiting for her just outside of the paddock.

Oscar grabbed the boxes from his sister as he led her through the paddock to his driver's room to set her boxes down, then led her to another room in the back of the paddock where she saw Zak Brown and Lando Norris.

Liz looked at her brother, highly confused as to why she was there because, to her, what was being discussed might be important, and she didn't want to interrupt.

"It's okay, Zak was helping me and..." Oscar was interrupted by the McLaren principal, "I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday."

"Thank you, then," Liz says with a small smile to the man.

"Lando is here because I needed a few things from him for your present and because I noticed that you have never met him, despite having been to many races since his rookie year and never met him," Oscar says, walking over to the table in the room.

Liz waves at Lando and follows her brother.

"This is from Mom and Dad, just Mom, just Dad, our sisters, Grandma, and me," Oscar says, pointing to each of the boxes as he says so.

Liz nods, "Okay, Max said he had another present, but you stole it before I got here and didn't get it back before you sent him to get me."

"Yes, that's true, but I wanted to show it to Zak and Lando." Oscar goes over to the other side of the table and grabs the smaller box that he hadn't pointed to, well, one of them.

Oscar hands it to his sister, and she opens it, finding another scale model helmet, one she designed for the current race, the Maimi Grand Prix 2024.

"But I only gave the design to him a few days ago," Liz looked at her brother, puzzled.

"Yeah, but I had access to your tablet weeks ago when you told me it was finished," Oscar points out.

Oscar took the box from her and shoved another into her hands. He did this until she got to the present from him.

Opened it to find books she wanted, this pair of sneakers she had told her brother about ONCE but wanted for several weeks, and, of course, scale model helmets she had been missing from his helmets and just one from Lando's, but also a few she designed for her brother.

Lando had stood to the side, and did nothing until Oscar pointed to the box next to him, which Lando picked up and gave to Liz as Oscar took his gift from in front of her.

Liz smiled in thanks to Lando as she took it from him.

"I told Lando you collected helmets and that he was one of the few drivers you collected all of them from. I told him which ones you didn't and..." Oscar said as his sister opened the box to see the few she was missing.

"Thank you," Liz said, looking to Brit, who nodded at her thanks. "My students just love looking at them, and I love using them as scale models."

Zak then stepped forward and pushed the last two boxes across the table, "This is from McLaren with the help of your brother."

She opened the boxes to find they were also helmets she had designed for the Maimi Grand Prix, just for Lando and Oscar.

"Your brother had seen them, finished when he saw Max's, and said he wanted the scale models made and the normal helmets, not for a race, just to have," Zak told her.

There was a knock on the door, and both Zak and Lando were beckoned out. Oscar was told he would be soon, too, but he told them to give him a couple minutes, and he would be out.

"I also got a few of the Lando helmets you design made, but I may have shipped them to your apartment," Oscar told her as he pulled Liz into a hug.

"Thank you," She whispered into his ear as he held her close.

"You're welcome."

The two pulled away before Oscar started to talk again, "So, who's going to win, you think?"

Liz laughs and rolls her eyes, knowing it was coming since he called her, "Not you and not Max. Max is going to get second."

Liz hands over a piece of paper to her brother with her predictions. Oscar looks at it and shakes his head, "Of course, you think it's going to be his maiden win."

Liz chuckles again at her brother as the two make their way out of the room.

Liz watched as her brother fell through the rows of cars after the safety car was pulled out onto the track. She also watched as Lando Norris took the lead over Max Verstappen and was gaining a substantial gap between the two.

She watched as Lando won his first Grand Prix and took place in the 1st place spot, with Max in 2nd and Charles in 3rd.

She watched as he ran to his team and jumped into the crowd of orange papaya with the biggest smile on his face.

She watched as he got blasted in the face with champagne from the other two drivers and his engineer.

She watched as her predictions about the race came true.

She watched as Max came over to her and asked her to join the partying tonight.

She watched as Lando got plastered as she herself got drunk to.

She watched the flashbacks of the night before coming back as she woke to the pressure of an arm across her middle.

She looked in the direction it came, and she saw Lando Norris next to her in the same state of dress, nothing but the blanket on the bed.

Not knowing how to respond to whatever happened that she only knows bits and pieces too, she carefully got up from the bed, careful not to wake the new race winner.

Only to try and stand and fall to the ground, effectively startling the Brit awake.

"Are you okay?" Lando asks as he looks over the side of the bed to her.

".... No. I need help. Please," There were a few moments of silence before her response.

"Were you trying to leave?" Lando asks as he gets up and then goes to pick her up.

"No, I was trying to go to the bathroom, then leave," Liz tells him as she's picked up, and Lando brings her to the bathroom.

Lando sets her down and then leaves the bathroom to give her privacy. No, he doesn't go far, but he does leave the room.

After she was done and mostly regained her balance, Liz left the bathroom and went searching for her clothes, which were still scattered, as Lando walked back into the bedroom area of his suite.

"Here, you can use this, as your dress is here and partially ripped. Sorry," The sorry was clearly an afterthought as Lando handed her both a shirt and her dress from the night before.

Liz nodded in thanks, "I should go before my brother starts looking for me, and I have to be on a flight in... 4 hours."

Lando just nodded at what she said, "Can I get your number from what I can remember of last night, you're pretty cool."

Liz blushes as she nods and grabs her phone from the bedside table, giving it to the McLaren driver, who texted himself to get her number on his phone.

It had been months since Maimi, and she had talked to Lando plenty of times over those months, often meeting when he flew over to New York in secret.

But now school was out, and there was no need for her to stay in New York all the time. She stayed with her parents for a few weeks before going to Monaco during one of the breaks between races, staying with Lando.

Lando was currently out of his apartment, having left earlier to do some errands or something, but Liz was still in the apartment, having woken up after Lando left.

She was currently on the phone with one of her friends in America, and she was telling her how she hadn't been feeling the greatest and everything hurt.

"You sound pregnant," was the blunt reply from her friend.

"No, that's not possible. I haven't slept with anyone in months," Liz denies.

"You're telling me that you are staying with a Formula One driver, one you have previously slept with, and you are not sleeping with him now," Her friend, Clara, deadpans on the other end.

"Well, he's kind of my boyfriend, and we agreed that we should take things at a relatively normal pace, so no, I am not," Liz responds.

"Well, how long ago was Maimi?"

"Five, almost six months ago."

"Well, I can't tell you what to do, but you should at least check," Her friend says before continuing, " How long ago was your last period?"

Liz looks down before answering, "Right before Maimi. I thought it was stress, you know with the end of the year for both the college and high school I teach at, then the moving around the globe a lot in the last few weeks."

"It's okay, I can stay on the line as you get through this, I helped you pack. Remember, what do I always do?"

"The usually unnecessary pregnancy test."

"Yes, now go grab it, take it, and keep talking to me."

Liz did just that. She waited for what felt like forever, an eternity that wasn't going to stop. Just kept going and going. Time slowed for her as she waited for this little stick to determine the rest of her life.

When the timer finally rang, she turned both tests over and showed the camera, which had Clara's face, as they turned to FaceTime when the timer started.

"Babes...."

Liz heard the tone of voice and started to cry as she turned them over to see they were both positive.

"I don't know if I'm ready for this; I don't know if this is what he wants. Clara, I don't know what to do," Liz says as she fully starts to cry.

"You should call your mom, but I will always be here for you. I'll move in with you if I have to; I'll move all the way over to Monaco. I don't care. I will be there for you," Clara states as she looks on at her crying best friend nothing she can do with actions as she watches from the screen of her phone across an ocean in America.

Liz nods and quickly says goodbye before calling her mom, who answers relatively fast for the time difference.

Liz is just bawling when her mom answers the phone, making her mother worry for her eldest child.

"Mommy, I don't know what to do."

Then Liz explains and comes clean about everything that's happened since Maimi and her mom just listened.

"Tell him, honey, tell him, then go from there. That's the only thing that can solve this," Her mom says.

She's on the phone with her mom until Liz hears the door of the apartment.

They say goodbye, and Liz stands and wipes the tears that were barely remaining on her face, having stopped crying midway through her rant.

She wipes her tears and grabs the two sticks, going to Lando, who is smiling as she walks out of the bathroom to him in the living room.

Lando turns at the noise of the door opening and smiles even wider before it falls as he sees the remnants of tears on her face.

"What's wrong?" Lando walks over to his girlfriend as she's once again reduced to tears.

Lando brings her into a hug as she buries her face in Lando's shirt.

"Hey, you have to tell me what's wrong I can't make it better until you tell me what's wrong," Lando says as he kisses her forehead before he pulls her away to look at her face.

She calms a little and asks, "Remember Maimi and what happened after your win?"

Lando nods, rather confused as to why she's bringing up that night, almost six months later.

Liz pulls the tests from her back pocket and hands them to Lando, who looks at them and takes a moment to realize what they mean.

"I am nowhere near ready for children..."

Liz tries to hold back tears as Lando says that, and she starts nodding, thinking he's going to reject her.

"... But if this is what you want, if you want the baby, I will be there, be here, right by your side, every step of the way. I'm not going to leave."

Liz almost doesn't hear what he says but takes a moment and almost breaks down again.

"I'm not ready either, but I want them. I can't get rid of them, not when they didn't do anything wrong," Liz says. Lando nods and brings her back into his arms, holding her tighter than before and whispering sweet nothings into Liz's ear and occasionally kissing her temple.

A/N: A few hours later than I wanted, but it's also longer than I expected. I could do a part 2 if you guys wanted. I actually really liked the way this one went.

Tags: @poppyflower-22 @samantha-chicago @hellothere9597

If you want to be removed from a tag list, let me know, so I don't keep tagging you. If you are striker through, I don't know if you want to be tagged, but just let me know if you want me to continue or stop

[formula-nyoom]

Be Proud of Yourself | GR63

Pairing: Platonic!George Russell x Fem!Driver!Reader

Summary: @cinnvmonrolls @scenesofobx and @annabellelee wanted a sequel to I'm Proud of You where reader finally outqualifies George and wins a race.

A/N: Works picking back up for me so fics may take some time for them to come out. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

~~~

“Good job (Y/N)! We’ve made it to Q3.”

 “Whew! Didn’t think I’d make it with that last lap. Glad to hear I did.” You said to your race engineer as you pulled into the pitlane. Engineers surrounded your car as they pulled it into the garage and placed a screen in front of you to go over data. To your right, you saw them do the same with George’s car. The two of you made eye contact and you gave George a thumbs up. He put his own thumb up, signaling to you that he also made it through to Q3. You only nodded your head.

While you were happy for the team that both Mercedes made it into Q3, a familiar, small pit started to form in your stomach. While most drivers that end up in Q3 shoot for pole, you didn’t care what position you ended up in, only as long as it was in front of George. It wasn’t a malicious goal. You just wanted to outqualify your teammate once and hopefully that would lead to people no longer ragging on you for all the times you placed behind George. But being honest with yourself, you knew they wouldn’t really stop. It would probably just make you feel better and hopefully give you a confidence boost going into the race on Sunday. 

The greenlight was given for Q3 to start and you and George were sent out for qualifying. Despite getting impeded on one of your qualifying laps, by the end of the session you felt like you had good pace to make the top 5. Nowhere near pole, but you felt you had good pace as you crossed the finish line at the end of qualifying.

“Alright, tell me where I am.” You said to your race engineer as you did your cool down lap before pulling into parc ferme.

 “You are P3.” Your race engineer told you. P3. That’s the highest you’ve ever qualified this season.

“Wow! I’m proud of that. And George is P2?”

 “No. George is P6.” Your race engineer said. You paused, your brain not really processing what was just said to you.

“What?”

 “You are P3. George is P6.”

“I outqualifed George?” The shock in your voice was evident. Realistically you should have tried to hide it, but you didn’t care. You had finally out-qualified your teammate

 “That you did. Good job (Y/N).”

For the first time, instead of parking your car in the regular parc ferme lane, you rolled your car till it stopped in front of the P3 placard, right next to Max’s car that was parked in the P1 spot. You took your time to get out of the car before running over to greet your team at the barriers. They gave you high fives and pats to the shoulder. While it wasn’t pole, P3 was still something to celebrate. 

 “Glad to see you up here, rookie!” Max said, giving your shoulder a pat. 

“Didn’t expect to be up here. It’s going to be difficult tomorrow for me to try and overtake you.” You told him. Max laughed.

 “Well I definitely won’t make it easy.” He said.

After post qualifying interviews, George was there to meet you as the two of you headed back to the Mercedes garage for debrief.

“Good job mate! Second row!” George said as he patted your shoulder “Wish I could have made it a Mercedes lock out.”

 “I expected you to end up on the front row. What happened?”

“My tires locked up on the second to last turn. Cost me what could have been pole.” George said. 

The adrenaline from qualifying had started to wear off and realization set in on where you placed. P3. 2 spots away from pole. 2 spots away from 1st place.

Your smile dropped and you turned to George.

“What am I supposed to do tomorrow George?” You asked him. “The team is going to expect me to try and win the race. I don’t know if I can do that.”

 “What makes you think that?” George asked.

“Because that’s what everyone else thinks.” You said as doubt started to creep in. You could practically see the media comments that would be online by the end of the night: predictions that George will overtake you by the end of the first lap, or you’ll bin it in the first turn, ruining Mercedes chances of a race win. 

 “Not everyone thinks that. The team doesn’t think that and neither do I.” George said, trying to make you feel better, but it wasn’t working.

“Really? Because I haven’t been able to out pace you at all this whole season! I’ve always qualified and placed behind you at every race, including the sprints. The only reason I was able to outqualify you today was because of an issue with your car. If your tires didn’t lock up, you would have outqualified me again and continue to prove to everyone that Mercedes made a mistake with signing me!” You exclaimed. While you didn’t seem to be crying from your exclamation, your face had turned red and you were breathing heavily. George could tell that this was something you had been keeping to yourself for a long time.

 “Hey, look at me.” George lightly cupped your face so that you would make eye contact with him. 

 “Mercedes did not make a mistake in signing you. You deserve to be here. Who cares if you’ve finished behind me? You’ve consistently scored points for Mercedes for a majority of the season and did so as a rookie. You’ve done better than most rookies when they first join Formula 1. Better than I did my rookie season.” George told you.

 “But the media-”

“Screw the media. They say shit like that all the time just to stir up drama. They only go off of what they’re seeing. If they knew how much you’ve been matching me in pace during our sim runs and during practice sessions, they wouldn’t be saying stuff like that.” George told you. He pulled you into a side hug and started to walk both of you to the Mercedes garage.

“Look, we both know that teammates are supposed to be each other’s biggest rivals, and I completely understand your want to outqualify and out place me at every race. But I don’t want that to cause you to doubt yourself and I’d hate to be the reason that causes you so much distress.” He said. You sighed.

 “It’s not you. It’s the expectations.”

“Put the expectations aside for now. Trust me, it won’t do you any good. You’ll beat me at some point, through your own merit and pace. I know you will.” George said. 

And that made you feel a bit better. 

~~~

The morning of the race, you were wrought with nerves. After the team debrief last night, it was emphasized that you had a good chance of winning the race if everything went well. The expectations were hard to shake. Even with how much you tried to push them to the side like George had advised.

George and you arrived at the track at the same time. While walking to Mercedes’ hospitality, George was giving you all the best advice he could think of for your starting position. 

“Max and Lando will be too focused on trying to get ahead of each other in the first turn. That will open the outside up for you to try and swoop in and take the lead. That’s how I was able to do it when I started P3 with them in P1 and P2.”

 “But what if one of them tries to go to the outside to overtake the other?” You asked.

“Then you wait and bide your time. If you can’t overtake them on the first lap, you’ll have a chance of overtaking them later. But be careful if you have to go 1-to-1 against Lando. We don’t want a repeat of Austria.” “Well maybe a repeat of Austria is what we need for me to get my first win.”

The Drivers Parade was always the calm before the storm. You always enjoyed staring out into the crowd and waving to fans. Usually you’d stand next to Logan or George during the parade and you and Logan would always make a game out of who could spot the most of your guys' drivers numbers in the crowd. But today your game was interrupted by you having to be one of the drivers interviewed during the parade.

“So (Y/N), you’re starting in P3 today. Do you think you have a chance at a win today?” The interviewer asked. 

 “I really hope so. Me and the team have been going over all the possible strategies that could guarantee me a win but there’s also the matter of getting up to P1. George and I joked earlier that a repeat of Austria would be ideal but I think I have a good chance at fighting for a win today.” You said. The interviewer smiled.

 “Now I’m sure you’re aware of this, but if you win today, you’ll be the first woman to win a Formula One Grand Prix. How do you feel about that?”

 Oh. The expectations just became bigger.

Despite the nerves, you were able to muster a smile to answer the question.

“It would be a historic thing and something that I’ve been striving to do throughout this whole season. I know it won’t be an easy thing to achieve but if I can pull it off, it would make this race even better.”

You were thankful that your Mercedes PR training allowed you to answer the question in good faith. Because until then, you had been so focused on the possibility of a win that you hadn’t realized until now what that win could mean. And now you felt even more pressure.

You weren’t even starting on pole and yet you were nervous beyond belief. Sure it was because of a multitude of reasons: You were starting in front of George for the first time, you were in a position to give Mercedes a win, and if you did win, you’d be making history. 

It would be stupid for anyone to tell you that there was “no pressure”, to you there was so much pressure. And it would be even worse if you made a mistake that would cost you and Mercedes the race. The media would have a field day. 

George could sense that you were spiraling again as he watched you struggle to put your gloves on. He walked over and held out his hand for you to hand them to him, which you did and you let George help you with your gloves.

“You’re going to do great.” George told you once your gloves were on. 

 You could only give him a nod. 

You pulled your car into the P3 spot behind Max’s RedBull and nervously waited for the lights to go out. Taking your breath, you tried to center yourself.

 ‘You’re going to do great. Put the expectations aside for now. You. Can. Win. This.’

It was better for you to focus on the now. Worrying about the outcome would affect your race. 

*Blink…Blink…Blink…Blink…Blink*

Foot to the floor, you slammed on the throttle and immediately went for the outside line. But going to the outside didn’t work like George had said it would. Max and Lando were indeed trying to get past each other, like George had said, but Max needed to pull away from Lando because they were getting too close to each other, which caused you to get pushed off the track. Not enough to cause damage, but you rejoined the track in P8.

 “Max pushed me off the track!” You exclaimed to your race engineer, clearly not happy about losing your P3 position. Oh yea. And you were 2 spots behind George now.

 “It’s been noted. Keep a cool head. It’s only the first lap, we can still win this race.” Your race engineer said. You let out a frustrated huff and tried to focus on getting back into the top 3. 

Building up speed you were able to overtake and get into P7, but that put you right behind George. In the team briefing before the race, it was said that you were the priority with your P3 placement, but that was before the start of the race. Now you were worried that since George was ahead of you, he would be the priority.

“Are me and George allowed to fight?” You asked your engineer, hoping they would say yes. 

 “You and George seem to be matching pace so you are allowed to fight as long as you keep it clean.”

“Got it.” You said, a smile creeping on your face. 

You quickly increased your speed, getting into George’s DRS zone. You were determined to get past your teammate. You weren’t going to end this race behind George again.

0.500s, 0.400s, 0.300s. You were gaining on George, just waiting for the right moment for an overtake. But he wasn’t making it easy for you. No, George was defending, making you work for this overtake, making you prove that you can get past him. 

 “The two Mercedes are very close to one another! They have been given permission to fight! (L/N) has consistently been outplaced by Russel throughout this season, but she seems determined to get by her teammate! Down the straight they go, (L/N) has DRS! She dives to the inside and GETS PAST RUSSEL IN TURN 8! (Y/N) (L/N) TAKES 6TH PLACE FROM HER TEAMMATE!”

You didn’t hesitate from pulling away from George as soon as you got past him. You let out a little exclamation of celebration to yourself for getting past but there were still more overtakes to do. Through pitstops of other drivers, you were able to move up to P4 and eventually found yourself within DRS range of Lando, who had dropped to P3. You were gaining momentum and just as you were preparing to go into Sector 1 to attempt the overtake, Lando was called into the pitlane, moving you up to P2. 

“Gap to Verstappen?” You asked as you tried to keep your momentum.

 “Verstappen is 5 seconds ahead. There are 20 laps left so let’s try to catch up to him.” Your engineer said to you. 

You seemed to be one with the car and speed was something you found quickly as you caught up to Max with just 10 laps to go. Now was the hard part: overtaking him. 

Max was a very defensive driver. Everytime you tried to make an attempt at overtaking, Max would try to halt your attempt. You were trying to play it safe for three laps but the end of the race was getting closer and you needed to overtake now in order to win the race. 

The two of you were going into turn 6 side by side. Like repeating the start, you had chosen the outside line. But you weren’t going to let him push you off the track, as you pulled ahead and managed to overtake him. But the two of you had just turned into the strait of sector 2, with Max still close enough to have DRS. He went for the outside line, but you knew he was trying to fake you out. You stayed on the inside and ahead enough so that Max couldn’t overtake you going into turn 9. 

 “Start pulling away. 6 laps to go.” Your engineer said to you. 

“I know! I’m trying! This guy doesn’t want to let go of first place!” Your frustration from the beginning of the race had come back. Max was still riding your rear wing and you just wanted him to stop. You were so close to a race win you just needed to hold off Max for 6 more laps. 

6 laps became 5. Then 4. By the time it became lap 3 you had started to be able to pull away and by the 2nd to last lap, Max had fallen out of your DRS zone.

 ‘Holy shit, I could win this’ You thought. By the time you saw the white flag waving, it was starting to become real.

 “Last lap, last lap. You can bring it home.” Your race engineer said and this time you believed him. 

You were going to win this race.

“Many had doubted Mercedes when they announced they had signed an F2 rookie to be the one to replace Sir Lewis Hamilton. And while she hadn’t been able to beat her teammate throughout this season, (Y/N) (L/N) has proven that those doubts should be put to rest. She outqualifed her teammate for the first time yesterday! Today she not only outplaces him, but she also makes history as the first woman to win a Formula One race! (Y/N) (L/N) wins the Monza Grand Prix!”

As the checkered flag rose, you saw people from the Mercedes team climb the fence and wave their fists in celebration as you drove past them and crossed the finish line. 

 “That’s the checkered flag! P1 (Y/N)! You did it!”

“YEEEEESSSS! OH MY GOD THAT WAS SO HARD! WOOOOO!” A smile spread across your face as you waved to the crowd while on your cool down lap. Part of you couldn’t believe it.

“Congratulations (Y/N). I know expectations for you were high at the start and I’m happy that you were able to deliver on them. You’re making everyone at Mercedes proud.” Toto’s voice now came over your radio and the praise made you smile even more.

 “Thank you Toto. I know a lot of people doubted your decision about signing me. Hopefully I’ve proven them wrong.”

 “You did kid. You did.”

Pulling into parc ferme, you didn’t hesitate to get out of the car and climb up onto the nose. You raised your fists in the air in celebration before swinging one up towards the sky as people cheered. You let yourself just stare out at the cheering ground and soaked up all the excitement before leaping off the nose of your car.

Your feet stay on the ground for a second before you’re getting scooped up into someone’s arms. They’re hugging you tight while spinning you around. You panic for a second at the unknown person holding you, but then you see the familiar blue helmet of George and relax, hugging him back.

 “I knew you could do it. I’m so proud of you (Y/N). You deserve this so much.” George says. He sounds like he’s crying. As he sets you down, you can see his visor is up and there are visible tears on his face.

 “I’m supposed to be the one crying George.” You said, your voice wavering as tears started to well up in your eyes. 

“We can both be crying because the fact is that you have proved everyone wrong. (Y/N) (L/N), you have just won your first race!” George exclaims as he pulls you in for another hug and you can’t help but start crying tears of joy.

Together the two of you walked over to the Mercedes team at the barrier, who welcomed you with open arms and helmet pats. You hugged your race engineer as soon as you saw them, thanking them for helping throughout the race. 

You were given many congratulations by both the team and those you walked past as you made your way to the cool down room. Your fellow drivers gave you hugs or pats on the shoulder as you passed, all of them very happy at your first win.

"I told you you would be up there one day!" Oscar said as you walked past him. Both him and Logan gave you a hug while congratulating you and your smile just kept getting bigger.

“You did not make it easy.” Was the first thing you said to Max when you entered the cool down room. Max let out a laugh as he sat in the P2 chair while you put down your helmet and swapped it for the P1 hat.

 “I told you I wouldn’t.” Max said. You rolled your eyes but smiled, taking a seat next to him. Lewis walked in shortly after, taking his seat in the P3 chair. He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you into a side hug.

“Congrats. You’re picking up where I left off, kid.” He said.

 “I’m coming for your spot as Mercedes' golden child.” You told him. 

“I’d like to see you try.”

Stepping on to the top step of the podium felt like a surreal moment. Graciously accepting the first place trophy, the cheers almost sounded deafening as you hoisted it high above you and when your national anthem came, you smiled and mouthed the words with a smile on your face. And when the time finally came to pop the champagne bottle, you didn’t hesitate in spraying the two world champions while letting yourself get drenched as well. Who knows when you’ll be back up here, but you were here today. As you let yourself get sprayed with champagne, you soaked up the moment, feeling both the adrenaline and pure happiness as you met the eyes of smiling faces from your team down below, including George. As you stood on the top step, you could say with certainty that you were proud of yourself.

[racinggirl]

furthest from truth

Lando Norris fic - requested

My inbox for requests

a/n: I'm baaack! It's been a while, I have to admit. But after having 3 new requests today, I got motivated again and I decided to write the ones that were yet to be posted on my page. I hope you like it! I've added some spice to the end of the chapter 👀 Don't forget to follow me so you won't miss my other stories! 🫶🏼

Sun. Beach. Sand. Friends.

It might look cliché, but it’s what filled your hearts with joy.

‘’Norris! Give me a hand, will ya?’’ Your lips pulled away from those of your boyfriend the moment he got up to help one of your friends with preparing the jet skis.  

‘’Finally,’’ your best friend, Ava, laughed as she took a seat next to you. ‘’Now that your lips are no longer glued to his, what do you think of grabbing a drink, I’m in a desperate need for a Frozen Daiquiri.’’

She pulled you up on your feet after you agreed on getting drinks. It was your holiday, after all, and even though it was just your first day of the 3-week holiday here in Dubai, you were planning on making it the best holiday yet.

You and Lando had been together for a little over 5 months now, the two of you bumping into each other at last year’s Christmas Market in London. You spilled your bottle of water over your shirt, and he was determined to win you a teddy bear so he could make it up to you.

After that Christmas Market, you went on a ton of dates. In London, but also in Monaco, as that was where he lived. You attended 3 races before he finally asked you to be his last summer, and obviously you said yes, otherwise this story is kind of weird, isn’t it?

Anyways, you knew who he was when you met him, having watched a few races here and there, along with your friends.

The moment you told your friends Lando had asked you out on a date, they couldn’t contain their excitement and practically forced you to go out with him. So, you did. And here we are, almost a year later.

‘’Two Frozen Strawberry Daiquiri, please.’’ Ava ordered the drinks for the two of you and once you felt the cold glass in your hand, you immediately took a sip.

‘’Urgh,’’ you groaned, your eyes closed. ‘’Best drink ever.’’ You giggled.

‘’Lando! Oh my god watch out!’’ Your grip on his life jacket was tight as he was riding the jet ski with you on the back. ‘’You idiot!’’ You laughed, hands gripping his shoulders firmly when you felt him go even faster – if that was even possible.

‘’You’re riding a jet ski with an F1 driver, love. Did you really think I was gonna go slow?’’ You groaned at his reply, and you simply held onto him like you could fall off any moment, which was probably the case.

Everything sport related was a game to him, and he was very, very competitive. He hated losing, which is why he tried his hardest to make you his, with success.

‘’Okay, okay, enough speed for me, let’s go back to the shore and have dinner, I’m starving.’’ You breathe, Lando’s hand moving over your leg slowly. He lifted his hand till it rested on your outer thigh, whilst still steering the jet ski with one hand. Slower, though, thankfully.

‘’We will, love, we will.’’ He said, but you could hear the amusement in his voice, his tone, teasingly with a smirk.

‘’Lan-…’’ You couldn’t even finish your sentence before your boyfriend pulled the right handle towards him, the two of you flying over the water. He made sure to keep an eye on you, but he knew you enjoyed this, and he wasn’t wrong.

You might tell him to stop going fast, heck, even in the bedroom you’d tell him to stop, but it was always with that flirty and teasing tone. He knew that tone, and he knew it meant you did not want him to, in fact, stop. So, he kept going.

‘’I should have thought better before signing that contract about us.’’

You were fully drenched, Lando obviously pushing the strings too hard which caused you to fall off the jet ski. Nothing harsh, it was all playful, and the two of you were laughing when it happened.

‘’You’re an idiot.’’ You smirked, rolling your eyes playfully as you squeezed the salty water out of your hair.

‘’I know, but you like it.’’ He teased, slapping your ass lightly as his hand moved its way towards your hip, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. ‘’I love you.’’

Dinner, which was absolutely insane – mostly because you were starving, but definitely because it was one of the best restaurants here in Dubai.

‘’Ehm..’’ Ava shoved you her phone, and you immediately let your eyes wander over the tweets, the Instagram posts, and the articles.

Lando saw the worried look on your face, so he cut off the conversation with his friends and pointed his attention to you, causing his friends to do the same.

‘’What’s wrong, love?’’ He asked, his thumb drawing small circles on your knee as his gaze went from you to the phone, back to you.

You showed him the articles, and a heavy sigh escaped his lips. You could see his jaw clench, the apple in his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly. ‘’They really need to make rumours about everything, don’t they?’’ He sighed and pressed a kiss to your temple.

‘’Don’t worry, Y/N, I’ll fix it, we’ll post a statement on Insta, alright?’’ He said, his arms wrapping around you which caused you to relax.

You felt guilty, because you were aware of the eyes that were on him now that his contract with McLaren was coming to an end. You knew his contract was getting renewed, but the world didn’t, and you didn’t want to cause issues.

People blaming McLaren for not renewing his contract, and how this. People blaming McLaren for forcing Lando to be in a relationship with you, a PR relationship, which was the furthest from the truth. You loved each other so much, and McLaren had absolutely nothing to do with the two of you.

‘’Come here.’’ Lando’s arms made his way around your shoulders, his strong arms pulling you even closer to his chest. The bed was comfy, soft, but the tension in your face was apparent, especially to Lando.

‘’I just, I feel so stupid for saying that.’’ You sighed but Lando reassured you immediately.

‘’Babe, it’s not the first time we say this, it’s our joke, and people don’t get it, apparently. You know how the media is, they exaggerate everything to get those views and clicks, so they probably overheard you saying that, but did not see the look on your face, or your beautiful smile when you said that.’’ His voice was soft and calm, like he was not stressed at all about this.

‘’But the image McLa-..’’

‘’No, baby, no. That’s not your fault, okay? They should have probably announced the contract extension sooner, yeah, but that has absolutely nothing to do with whatever you said at the beach, okay?’’ He said, stern, but gentle. And you believed him. Of course you did, you believed everything he would tell you because you knew he was right.

‘’Now let’s make that post so people will stop complaining about things that are the furthest from the truth. That, and so I can take you tonight because I really, really want to.’’ He whispered the last thing with a voice so deep, you felt chills all over your body.

landonorris added to his story

landonorris & yourusername

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 1,273,710 others

I love you more than anyone imagine. Nothing can stop us, I promise you. Best decision I've ever made 🧡

view all 39,264 comments

user1 I feel ashamed

user5 as you should user3 we all should. how could we think it was just a PR. they are in love in love.

user2 You are so so so cute together!

‘’Lando, fuck, stop!’’ You breathe, hands pushing against his chest as he looked into your eyes, his bright ones a few shades darker than usually. He smirked, wetted his lips before thrusting even harder… Just how you asked.

[aricat7]

Bad Company (Crowley & Kilgrave)

A Good Omens and Jessica Jones crossover where Kilgrave fails to win Crowley over.

🔞18+🔞

~After the events of Good Omens season 2~

_________________________________

"Oh Crowley… nothing lasts forever."

"We could've…" Crowley mumbles to himself, aimlessly driving at the speed limit through London. Nowhere to go. Nothing to do. His light, his anchor, his companion took the elevator to heaven and left him alone on Earth.

He comes to a stop at a red light. People cross the street, some clad in business attire with their heads down, others keeping their kids from running off. Couples holding hands, sharing smiles and laughter, just having a jolly good ol’ time.

"You never say what you're really thinking. That was all we needed. It's what you two need as well."

Well, Crowley had taken that advice from Maggie, and here he is now. Alone. The one time he tries to pour his heart out to the only other being worth spending the rest of eternity with and he ends up alone. Not that it was Maggie's fault, of course—Crowley admits that it was a solid piece of advice, but it just wasn't enough to secure the wobbly bridge that Crowley has tried to walk on all these millennia into Aziraphale's heart.

What if I had...kissed him years ago?

A steady rainfall began. The sound of raindrops tapping on the roof of the Bentley always soothed Crowley, though the storm that raged in his heart drowned out the serene tune. It wouldn't have made a difference if he had kissed him way earlier, Crowley concluded. Aziraphale would've slapped him with the 'I forgive you' and pretended that nothing happened. That nothing had been happening between them. Just friends—no. Not even friends. Casual business partners. I did stuff for him; he did stuff for me.

Crowley shouts and punches the steering wheel, inadvertently changing the light to green, then takes off—this time racing and weaving through the streets. He had enough of feeling sad. He grips the steering wheel as if he were strangling someone and curses for acting so human, with all these emotions—all because of some bloody angel.

"GODDAMMIT, AZIRAPHALE! YOU STUPID, STUBBORN—" Tears prick the corners of his eyes, and his foot involuntarily lets up on the gas. "You beautiful thing..."

He groans and slumps in his seat. He misses him—so much. He can still taste him on his lips and feel the ghost of the angel's hand on his shoulder, pulling him closer. A thousand unspoken words melded together in their kiss, words that had been buried within the depths of their souls that burned for release throughout their lives spent together. They all harmonized under a three-word declaration that should have been so simple to say out loud—and yet it wasn't. Not for Crowley, anyways.

Love. Unconditional love—something a demon shouldn't be capable of knowing and giving, and something an angel shouldn't be denying when it’s explicitly there.

It was their first kiss.

And it would be their last.

Losing the motivation to continue driving, Crowley spots a bar further down the street that he hasn't been to in a long time. "Screw it," he says, and parks in front of it with a new goal of drowning out the hurt with one too many drinks.

He looks over his shoulder at his plants in the backseat. "You guys be good."

They shake fearfully in response.

Unbeknownst to Crowley as he saunters inside and seats himself at the bar, a pair of eyes from the corner of the room follows him.

"Just give me your finest whiskey,” Crowley tells the bartender, barely keeping his head propped up on his hand. As the bartender pours his glass, the man watching Crowley intently finishes off the last drops of bourbon in his and comments aloud, "Nice Bentley."

Crowley takes a swig before shooting a quick and uninterested glance at him. "Yeah, uh, thanks mate."

"What year is she?"

"1926," Crowley answers flatly, his head hung low, unaware that the man is walking over to him and eyeing his car appreciatively through the window.

"Still in such impeccable condition, wow." The man leans against the bar next to Crowley. "How long have you had her for?"

Crowley grunts and tosses back his drink, slamming the empty glass on the bar. "A long time. Look, I'm not here to chat it up with anyone, so please just—" He motions for him to leave.

"Well, neither am I. But then I saw you, mister..." His voice drops to a low as his eyes wander down Crowley's frame. "Tight black skinny jeans and sunglasses in the rain, strutting in here all sexy-lookin', owning a beautiful classic car. I mean," He leans in, noting the demon's natural scent and finding it pleasantly inviting, "I've never seen a man like you before who just...oozes such...yummy elegance..."

Crowley musters up the effort to fully turn to the man and take in his appearance. He was handsome, no doubt. Well dressed; well groomed. "Look, I'm certainly flattered and you're… charming and all… probably a bit insane, but insanity never hurt me, really. But I really don't need your company. What I do need though, is more alcohol." Crowley signals the bartender over and as he's pouring him another, Crowley asks, "Actually, could you just leave me the whole bottle?"

The bartender simply shakes his head and turns to place the bottle back on display.

"Give him the bottle," demands the pestering man.

To Crowley's astonishment, the bartender obeys.

"My, oh my!" A hint of a grin tugs at Crowley's lips as the bottle is brought back to him effortlessly. He looks at the man with a somewhat newfound appreciation. "You must be the owner of this establishment."

The man looks up in thought and sways his head from side to side. "I could be if I wanted to. Too far from home, however. I'm only here in London for a, um, vacation. Clear my head."

Against his better judgement, Crowley found himself a little intrigued by him. He uncaps the bottle and brings it to his lips, welcoming in the impending inebriation that'll momentarily blanket his chokehold of a heartbreak. "Is that so? Must've made some name for yourself here a while back then, yeah? Unless you’re personally familiar with the bartender?"

The man straightens his posture, smirking. "Well, look who's trying to make some company with me after all.”

"Hardly,” Crowley mutters, taking another hearty swig. The man's eyes linger on the bob of Crowley’s Adam’s apple, as he does so.

"Let's just say that people have a knack for giving me what I want."

Crowley sets the bottle down and pretends to inspect the label, responding to him with feigned interest, "Must come off as intimidating to them."

"Don't you think so?" The man leans a bit closer, challenging Crowley with a hardened stare. "Tell the truth."

Crowley’s eyes remain on the bottle, idly tracing its edges. "Not in the slightest. How about you go stroke that ego of yours somewhere else, okay? Leave me be. I'm not normally this patient."

"You'd still like me to go away? After scoring you a free bottle of whiskey?"

The bartender picks up on this and shoots the man with a baffled expression. "Free?"

"Yes," the man bites back. "Free."

The bartender nods politely and returns to his work.

Crowley finally looks up at the man, eyebrow quirked. "Who are you?"

"Kilgrave. And you?"

Crowley grimaces. "Kilgrave? What kind of a name is that? Sounds… I don’t know, death-y?"

"How sweet of you to notice," Kilgrave responds, letting the offense roll off his back. "I personally like it. It's got a nice ring to it, don't you think? Now, tell me your name."

"Nah, thanks for the free booze, though."

Kilgrave’s brow knits together. "You're not complying..."

Crowley takes in more whiskey, feeling its warm, relaxing effect start to spread throughout his body. "Just don't find you that intimidating, Gravekil.”

"It's Kilgrave."

"It's stupid."

Kilgrave’s blood feels like it’s about to boil over. "Maybe yours is worse. Who are you?"

"Mister tight black skinny jeans and sunglasses in the rain," Crowley shoots back mockingly, unable to hide the cunning grin that sprouts so easily whenever alcohol flows through his veins.

“And what exactly are you then, huh? Besides eye candy? Because it's not normal for someone to disregard my orders.”

Oooh, a self-centered asshole—the type of human Crowley found the most entertaining. It’s always fun seeing them squirm when they don’t get their way.

“I’m a demon,” Crowley answers for his own amusement.

That earns a laugh out of Kilgrave. “Can’t be any worse than me, darling.”

“Yeah?” His ability to think clearly rendered obsolete, Crowley takes off his shades, revealing his fiery serpentine eyes. “How about now?”

Instead of backing away and running for his life—as any other human would normally do upon seeing such ungodly eyes—Kilgrave beams. He leans in until their faces are a breath apart and gazes into the demon’s eyes. “Those are real, aren't they? I'd argue that those are some wacky contact lenses, but it’s almost as if I can feel some sort of hellish energy coming off you.” He glances at Crowley’s hand on the bar and adds, “Wonder if you’re hot to the touch…?”

Before Kilgrave can find out, Crowley’s head turns into something monstrously dreadful for a split second—a trick that often leaves humans unconscious from the horrid sight. But the purple-suited man takes only a half-step back and is pleasantly surprised. “You've proved your point! That was the most demonic thing I've ever seen! That wasn't your true form, was it?”

“Eugh. No, thankfully.”

Crowley starts to put his shades back on but is stopped by the touch of Kilgrave’s grasp on his wrist. “So is it this one then? Because I quite like this one…” His other hand cradles Crowley’s cheek, teasing the demon’s skin with small traces of his thumb. “It's a shame that a beautiful thing like you is immune to my control…”

Crowley typically found it cute whenever a human tried to tempt him, but this enigma of a man doesn’t spark endearment in him. If anything, Crowley’s curiosity simmers at finding the man’s audacity. “Immune to your control? What—you can control people's minds? Like, actually?”

“Indeed I can, luv,” he says in a whisper.

“You can't do that…” The entrance bell dings as someone walks in. “That bloke over there—” Crowley nods his head towards the stranger and then dons his shades. “Make him do something.”

“Anything?”

“Surprise me.”

Kilgrave lets go of him and calls the guy over. “Hey! You! Come here!”

The guy looks over, confused, then warily makes his way over to them.

“See that guy over there?” Kilgrave asks him, pointing to another random stranger who was playing pool on the other side of the bar. “You know him?”

“No. What's it to you?”

“Go kick him in the balls. As hard as you can.”

Crowley blinks in disbelief and drinks an incredulous amount of whiskey this time as he waits to see this ridiculous scene fail miserably. There was no way the man was going to—

Crowley chokes on the burning liquid as the man does exactly what Kilgrave ordered him to do. The afflicted man hollers in agony before aiming a jaw-crunching blow to his attacker’s face.

Kilgrave watches in smug victory.

“So you're some sort of freaky superhuman, then?” Crowley asks, feeling the alcohol spread to his limbs. “How'd that come to be?”

“Let’s just chalk it all up to having shitty parents,” he says as he finally tears his attention from the commotion he brewed and takes a seat again beside Crowley. “Now, enough about me. What's a demon doing here, getting shitfaced, huh? Besides not wanting any company?”

Crowley holds his head in his hands as it suddenly feels too heavy. “That's just it. To get shitfaced; to not have to think about anything or… anyone, for that matter.”

“I can understand that. You're not alone there. Bartender-”

Alone. Of course Crowley was alone. When Aziraphale ascended to heaven with his shiny new promotion, Crowley could physically feel the angel’s warm and welcoming aura being ripped away from Earth— ripped away from him. Permanently.

It’s a different kind of loneliness—not the kind Crowley often felt when it came to being the only demon that takes a liking to Earth and the humans. This loneliness consumes him, and the alcohol that courses through his system does little to stop him from mulling over it. He offers what's left of the whiskey to Kilgrave as the bartender is about to take his order. He accepts it and sighs after a generous swig. “A woman. The love of my life. I know she loves me too, but she's just…. urgh! She just has all these problems, and she's… she's unwilling to see past them and she's hurt me in the process…”

Attempting to steer his thoughts away from Aziraphale, Crowley tries to swallow down his own despair and forces himself to look at Kilgrave. “Taking what the two of you have for granted, is she?”

That shit-eating grin returns to Kilgrave's face as he takes another shot from the bottle. “Might I assume, demon, that you know exactly what I'm talking about?”

“It’s Crowley, my name. And… possibly. The whole focusing on other things instead of… nurturing the—” Crowley bites hard on his lip, knowing he shouldn't say what he's about to say next, but he can't deny the truth. “The love that's there between the two of you.”

“Yeah. Pssh,” Kilgrave shakes his head. “Fuckin bitches.”

“Is she a freak of nature like you?”

“Sort of.”

“You use your mind control on her?”

“Ah— well— I,” Kilgrave toys with the bottle, letting the amber-brown liquid inside swirl around. “That's a bit of a personal question.”

“Is it?”

Pretending to not hear that, Kilgrave slides the bottle over to Crowley. “Your turn.”

The demon grimaces with a dismissive wave of his hand. “No. I need to… lay off a little.”

He thinks about draining himself of the liquor, like he and Aziraphale would do whenever they got to the icky part of drinking, but the effort to do so is shunned. He holds his head in his hands and rubs his temples; Kilgrave takes this opportunity to scoot his seat closer to Crowley. “I meant your story, darling. What exactly has made you into this doom-and-gloom of a hot mess, hm? Unless you’re here creating sob stories to tempt people into doing sinful things…” He lightly traces the demon’s snake tattoo on his face and whispers, “If that’s the case, then color me intrigued. I mean, you already tempted me into making that guy kick that other guy’s sack, didn’t you?”

“Oh, please!” Crowley swats the man’s hand away. “Making that guy do that was your idea! You humans… whenever I come up with something horrible, you lot will come up with something a million times worse!”

Kilgrave waits for Crowley to settle down before placing his hand on the demon’s knee. “So what was it, then?”

His mind a hailstorm, his heart destroyed, Crowley just stares at the unsolicited touch, unsure of what to make of it.

“I lost… this guy.”

“Just some guy?”

“No, not just some guy!” Crowley jerks his knee away. “He was...” He slams his fist on the bar. “He's an ineffable fucking idiot, that's what he is.”

“So, what happened?”

“He left me... he—URGH! He thinks what he's doing is the right thing but he's just so goddamn brainwashed— ‘Oh, Crowley! Oh, I can make things right in heaven! You can be my wingman! We can make a difference’ —Please, just spare me—oh, wait a minute, he did just that!”

Kilgrave steals the bottle back and looks at Crowley contemplatively. “Heaven?”

“Yeah, a place you're not getting into.”

“I assumed so—”

“That bloody angel…” Crowley hisses, a profound vein bulging on his forehead. “He and I could’ve run off together and made a life of our own, away from heaven and hell’s politics.”

“Sounds like you and him were pretty close.”

It’s difficult for Crowley not to do the most human thing at this point: scream and cry his eyes out until there’s no breath left in his lungs. “I… certainly thought so.”

Kilgrave clicks his tongue and shakes his head, opening up the bottle. “Love’s a bitch, innit?”

Crowley says nothing. Moving even the tiniest muscle felt like a chore.

“A demon feeling love, and loving an angel for that matter,” Kilgrave says with a chuckle. “You've got to be the most interesting thing I've ever met, Crowley.” He finishes off the last drops of the bottle and continues, “That angel’s missing out. Big time. Did he even—hm, maybe I shouldn't ask.”

“What?” Crowley grumbles into his hands.

“Did he… satisfy you? You know, was he a good lover? Or did you have to tempt him? You being a demon and all.”

“No, I didn't tempt him! Er, not in that fashion, anyway.” Memories of Aziraphale’s sky-blue eyes lighting up at his first taste of food illuminates Crowley’s mind and strangles his heart.

“So he satisfied you without your persuasion?”

“I'm not like you,” the demon sneers. “I don't need to mind-control people to make me happy.”

Kilgrave’s eyes gleam at the sight of Crowley riled-up. “So an angel, a being of all that is holy and godlike and whatnot, willingly gave himself to a demon?”

“Oh for Christ’s—Satan’s—somebody's sake, we didn't—it wasn't physical!”

Kilgrave slithers in, his nose barely touching Crowley’s. “Wouldn't you have liked it to be?”

Crowley’s fingers curl into a fist. If this sonofabitch dares to make one more move…

“It must be difficult, having pent-up urges and desires, yearning for a sweet, long release…”

Crowley’s jaw tightens. “I'm not in the mood for what you're trying to accomplish here, and I never will be.”

“I could get us a free room at that hotel across the street—”

A forceful shove almost knocks Kilgrave off the barstool. “Go fuck yourself,” Crowley snarls.

Collecting himself, Kilgrave straightens out his suit and titters. “Only if you'll watch.”

Crowley inhales sharply, haphazardly gets up on his feet and grabs Kilgrave by the collar. “Leave London. Go back to that woman you love. Talk things out with her. Really talk things out, cause if you don't—if you're not thorough—then shit will stay sideways and then neither of you will be happy. And stay the FUCK away from me.”

Kilgrave maintains his suave demeanor, taking in Crowley’s whiskey breath like a drug. “Then get your hands off of me. But you won't. Because you know that I can satisfy you in ways your angel never did. Don't lie to me and don't lie to yourself, demon.”

“You're a real sack of shit, you know that? You don't know me. You don't know what I want. And it's certainly not you. I'm not going to waste my time on a lowlife sinner like you.”

“You may not be trying to tempt me, luv, but you’re a temptation in and of itself. My God, Crowley, you're practically dripping with sex.” His voice lowers to a sultry tone, “I do wonder how dilated those slits behind those shades can get… and how pretty they'd look staring up at me… pleading…”

Nothing of what Kilgrave has spoken tickled any fancies for Crowley, but Crowley does admit, “You'd make one hell of a demon,” and lets go of him. Before Kilgrave opens his mouth to spew out garbage again, Crowley turns and leaves the bar with a drunken stagger.

The rain hasn't let up at all, and Crowley nearly slips on the wet ground as he gets inside the Bentley. Head spinning and queasy as ever, he fishes for his phone and calls the one number he only ever calls.

After some agonizingly long rings, the call is answered.

“‘Ello, ‘ello, ‘ello! A.Z. Fell and Co! How can I—a human—help you?”

Oh…right…

Crowley hangs up and drops his head onto the steering wheel. It’s a basic instinct to call up Aziraphale whenever something crazy happens, and meeting a psychotic, mind-controlling human who was hitting on him made for some juicy news.

But there was no more Aziraphale.

The tears that fought for escape finally break through in hot trickles down Crowley’s face.

“Aziraphale… please… just come back… m-my angel…”

Sniffling and wiping off his face, he looks up and notices Kilgrave leaving the bar and making his way over to Crowley.

Shattered and intoxicated, Crowley kicks the engine to life and takes off.

[coimbrabertone]

MotoGP Silly Season Predictions - Plus Larson Waiver Talk.

As recently as this morning, I was planning on this week's blogpost being about the Kyle Larson waiver situation over in NASCAR, however, MotoGP then decided to do everything all at once and launched silly season into high gear.

So, with regards to Larson, I'll just say one thing: he raced in the Indianapolis 500 competitively and made NASCAR look good mere years after Jimmie Johnson, unfortunately, struggled in a Chip Ganassi Indycar on road and street circuits - and there were a lot of jokes at NASCAR's expense after their seven-time world champion spun out every race. So how does NASCAR repay him? Utter silence over whether or not he'll get a playoff waiver.

Kyle Larson is the 2021 champion, took his car to the owner's championship final four as a result of playoff shenanigans in 2022, and then made the final four in 2023 again. He is considered one of the top talents in NASCAR and he has the results to back it up. So why is there controversy over him getting a playoff waiver for this year?

Because Kyle Larson prioritized the Indianapolis 500 last weekend.

I talked about this in my Motorsports Christmas blogpost, but the Indy 500 was rain delayed and Kyle Larson stayed there to compete, and only then he flew out to Charlotte. Now, Kyle Larson landed, was ready to get into the car, but then it started raining in Charlotte too. Just before midnight, as the track was drying, NASCAR controversially decided to call the race, thus Kyle Larson was not able to relieve Justin Allgaier in the #5 and resume the rest of the Coke 600 at Charlotte Motor Speedway.

NASCAR is mad because every other weekend of the year, they're the biggest show in racing, they can throw their weight around and try to chase NFL ratings while all other racing series are considered a niche. That's true every weekend except Memorial Day weekend, when the Indianapolis 500 reigns supreme. The whole existence of the Charlotte 600 is to compete with Indy.

Larson prioritized the bigger race and that made NASCAR made, because they're used to getting their egos stroked.

Larson is one of the best drivers in NASCAR and the double attempt brought good publicity to both sports. He had already won his way into the playoffs and made an effort to get to Charlotte for the end of the 600 - give him a waiver. If not, well, you face the possibility that Austin Cindric is in the playoffs after his shock win at Iowa, and one of the top drivers in the series isn't.

I like Austin, I'm glad he won, but he's nowhere near the same level as Kyle Larson. If he can compete for the championship and Kyle can't, then it makes the NASCAR playoffs look even less legitimate than they already are.

Anyway, that turned into a longer rant than I intended, so I'll leave it there. Now onto the main topic for today: MotoGP silly season.

Yesterday at Mugello, Enea Bastianini spent the final laps of the race charging from fourth to second, overtaking Marc Marquez for third and then pulling off an audacious last corner pass on Jorge Martin for second. This meant that Enea finished just eight tenths off leader Pecco Bagnaia for a factory Ducati 1-2.

So naturally, Ducati has decided to replace him.

Marc Marquez, who finished four and last out of these three, is going to the Ducati Lenovo Team, according to Autosport.

This was all but confirmed when, a few hours later, Aprilia confirmed the signing of Jorge Martin for Aprilia. Jorge Martin who finished third and got overtaken by Enea Bastianini in the final corner, mind you.

Now, of course, Ducati is not judging this off of one race alone and I acknowledge - as I did in two recent blogposts - that Enea has had a rotten time on the factory Ducati seat. That being said, seeing him lose Ducati to Marc Marquez, who finished last of the main three, and then lose out on the Aprilia seat to the guy he overtook in the final corner. It stings.

That being said, some news out of this weekend might offer a possibility for Enea to have a bit of a soft landing from the factory seat anyway. Let me explain:

Earlier in this weekend, Marc Marquez spelled out his demands in an interview. He said that he was not interested in going to Pramac, saying that he didn't want to switch from a satellite team (he's currently riding a 2023 Ducati at Gresini Racing) to another satellite team (Pramac runs 2024 Ducatis, same as the factory team, with factory contracted riders, they are still customers, however). Instead, Marquez said that the best option was a factory team, and if not that, then a factory bike at minimum.

Translation: Marc Marquez wanted the factory team for 2025, and if he couldn't get that, then he wanted a 2025 Ducati at Gresini, remaining at his current team.

In response, Gino Borsoi, who is the team manager at Pramac, insisted that his team had a contract for two factory-spec Ducati GP25s next year. This was somewhat of a surprise for a number of reasons, one: Ducati announced late last year that they signed Moto2 rider Fermin Aldeguer for 2025, and it seemed like the natural landing spot for him was going to be Pramac...until it emerged later on that Ducati wanted to start Fermin out on a 2024 bike. Two: regardless of which spec Ducati Fermin is going to be on, Pramac has been heavily linked to Yamaha lately.

The Japanese bikes are struggling in MotoGP right now and, ever since RNF switched to satellite Aprilias for 2023, Yamaha has not had a satellite team. Four bikes capturing data instead of two could really help Yamaha right now, so they've been linked to pretty much every Ducati satellite team the last few months. VR46 with the romanticism of a Valentino Rossi and Yamaha reunion, Gresini until they renewed their deal, and most recently, with Pramac.

Yamaha was desperate and the rumor has been that they offered very generous terms to Pramac.

So, the news that Pramac may stay with Ducati after all is a shock to the media, but it does not seem to have been much of a shock to Ducati. Ducati had been working on a way to keep both Martin and Marquez, and it seems that they wanted to offer Pramac the chance to run MotoGP's biggest star - Marc Marquez - as a reason to stay...and potentially a reason to accept taking on a rookie Aldeguer on a year-old bike as well.

Now that Marquez is going to the factory team instead and Jorge Martin has snatched the open Aprilia seat, I see an opening. Ducati can send Enea Bastianini to Pramac, keeping him on a factory spec bike while giving Pramac another frontrunning rider. Aldeguer joins as Bastianini's teammate, on a GP25 if that's what it takes to keep Pramac in the fold, because Marc Marquez will be in the factory team so freeing up a GP25 won't be as important.

What about VR46 and Gresini then? Well, I think Marco Bezzecchi's current season has been a bit of a disaster, so he won't really have much of a chance to get a factory ride next year, so staying at VR46 seems likely. Furthermore, his struggles mean that Bezzecchi probably isn't going to have much luck demanding Ducati gives him a GP25, so status quo is probably the most likely outcome there. It's unfortunate for Bezzecchi, but the sheer reality is that, with all these hot riders on the market, his options seem to be either stay at VR46, or make a more or less lateral move to Trackhouse Aprilia.

Then Franco Morbidelli, another Valentino Rossi academy product, can drop from Pramac into the other VR46 seat.

Where does Fabio DiGiannantonio go then? Well, with Marquez going to the factory, Fabio can now return to Gresini and be reunited with Frankie Carchedi. Thus, restoring the 2023 lineup of Fabio DiGiannantonio and Alex Marquez.

So, to sum things up, I think Ducati can keep all three of its satellite teams and all eight bikes like this:

Ducati Lenovo (GP25): Pecco Bagnaia and Marc Marquez.

Pramac (GP25): Enea Bastianini and Fermin Aldeguer.

VR46 (GP24): Marco Bezzecchi and Franco Morbidelli.

Gresini (GP24): Fabio DiGiannantonio and Alex Marquez.

Maybe Pramac will go to Yamaha after all, maybe my predictions will look radically wrong in a few weeks. I don't know how it'll turn out, but this is the scheme I've thought up in my mind.

I need to do something since with Marc Marquez at Ducati and Jorge Martin at Aprilia, my two favorite teams now have my two least favorite riders and I'm trying not to dwell on that part.

So yeah.

Oh, also this weekend Indycar raced at Detroit, but uhh...the less said about that, the better.

[beyondtheticklecloset]

Private Reunion (Blue Lock)

⚠️ Spoilers for the end of Season 1 of Blue Lock! ⚠️

Summary: After the second selection, Isagi takes Bachira aside for a private moment to confess his feelings.

A/N: Cards on the table - I've been wanting to write BachIsagi's first kiss scene for about a year now, and while rewatching the first season the last couple weeks I felt the urge come over me again. Originally I thought it would be when Isagi went to get Bachira back, but once I got there it didn't seem to feel right. Then the 4v4 game wrapped up the way it did, and there it was - the perfect moment (in my mind anyway). I hope you enjoy this fluffy first kiss scene! ^^

Word Count: 1186

~~~

It was over.

Isagi couldn’t believe it – in an instant, all of his plans and dreams for his time inside Blue Lock had shifted. He’d been completely prepared to go forward with his friends – Nagi, Chigiri, Barou, and Bachira. The five of them against whatever came next. He was so sure of that last play, been so proud of himself for making it there. But then…

Dumb freaking luck.

He still didn’t understand why he’d been chosen. Objectively, he was not nearly as physically skilled as his teammates had been. But Rin had chosen him, end of discussion, and now he was here with three people he barely knew, and…

Bachira.

Isagi’s eyes flitted up to his friend, locking onto the red jersey and #16 on his back. His brown-blonde hair that curled up at the ends. He felt his chest tighten. He had to remind himself to stay present and accept that what had happened, happened. He couldn’t change any of it. But Bachira…

Bachira, at least, was on his team once again. However it had worked out, his ultimate goal had been realized.

The five of them were retiring for the night; they had an important game tomorrow, but they’d all played their absolute hardest and were totally wiped out now. Aryu and Tokimitsu had already made it to the bedroom, but…

“Bachira,” Isagi said before he could lose his nerve, heart racing when the smaller boy turned to look at him.

“What’s up?”

“Can we…talk for a second? Out here?”

Those golden eyes blinked once, then brightened. “Sure.”

Once it was just the two of them in the hall, Isagi lowered his voice, though he knew the others wouldn’t be able to hear him through the closed door anyway. He took a breath, hesitated for just a moment, then gently grasped the other by the shoulders.

“Bachira, can I kiss you?”

Bachira’s eyes went wide, but he didn’t look alarmed. He was quiet for a beat before managing an odd, strangled, “What?”

Isagi took another breath. It was now or never. He’d already missed his chance once. Not this time.

“After Rin stole you from me, I realized I couldn’t stand to be apart from you,” he started. Bachira’s eyes remained wide, but now his breath caught and his expression seemed to shift from surprise to hope. Isagi plowed onward before he could lose his nerve. “Watching you walk away like that – it was the worst feeling. I hated that he’d taken you from me. And when you said you wouldn’t wait for me, I…”

He paused. Bachira gently placed his hands atop Isagi’s, encouraging him to continue without saying a word.

“This whole time, my only goal in catching up to Rin’s team was to win you back. I wasn’t even thinking of the selection anymore. I just knew I needed you.” Isagi shifted so he was holding Bachira’s hands now, gradually lowering them so he could give his eyes a reason to drift downward. “Looking back on it, I can see you were always so open about your feelings for me from the beginning. I was just so focused on soccer that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me. But now…”

He glanced back up at him, and Bachira’s eyes were shining. He still didn’t say a word, patiently waiting for Isagi to finish.

“It didn’t go the way I wanted, necessarily, but I finally have you back, and I couldn’t bear the thought of going forward without telling you how I feel. I…I really, really like you, Bachira. I never want to lose you again.”

Isagi took a breath, his heart hammering. Bachira’s silence was so unusual, it made him nervous. What if he’d misread things all this time? What if his feelings had started to fade while they’d been separated? He sure seemed to enjoy playing alongside Rin out there during that match.

“S-So,” he stammered, voice lowering to a near whisper as he struggled to get the words out a second time, “can I ki—”

Bachira crushed his lips against Isagi’s before he could finish asking the question, taking him by surprise for only a split second before he melted, wrapping his arms around Bachira’s waist and holding him tightly, like he was afraid if he let go, he’d be letting him go forever.

Bachira’s arms wrapped around his neck, hands in his hair as he, too, pulled Isagi closer. Isagi stumbled forward until the smaller boy’s back was against the wall, and they were so consumed by each other they didn’t care about anything else in the world except for this moment, right here and now.

Eventually, however, they had to pull away for air, the both of them coming up gasping, then snickering at how silly they knew they must look.

“I was terrified he’d choose someone else,” Bachira admitted in a near whisper, never letting his arms fall from Isagi’s shoulders. “I wanted you so bad – I’ve always wanted you, Isagi. When he chose you I was so relieved I cried a little. I don’t know if you saw.”

“I didn’t,” Isagi admitted, holding him closer. “But that’s only because I was in shock, I think.”

“Now that we’re on the same team again, I want you to promise me you’ll never let us be separated again. I don’t want to play soccer without you, Isagi. You’re the reason I’ve made it this far.”

Isagi hugged Bachira close and buried his face in his neck. He was so happy – his heart so full – he thought he might explode like a firework. A million fiery, shining pieces falling down from the sky.

“I promise,” he said, his words muffled but no less meaningful for being spoken into Bachira’s shoulder.

And they stood there, holding each other close, and time seemed to stand still. They didn’t know when they finally let go, finally entered the room together, finally began to settle into their new reality. They just knew they were happier than they’d ever been before, and that they were finally – at long last – together.

Down the hall and around the corner, just out of their sight, Rin stood with his back pressed to the wall. He’d originally been coming back from the showers to grab his things for his wind-down routine, but one look at Isagi and Bachira making out in the hallway and he scrambled back out of sight. He didn’t intend to interrupt their moment, nor overhear their promises and confessions to each other, but he’d heard them all the same, and he couldn’t help but feel…something.

I knew he was looking for someone, Rin thought as the two of them finally finished their private reunion and headed into the bedroom. I just didn’t realize how hard he’d already fallen for someone right here in Blue Lock. I’m glad I chose Isagi. Not just for me, but for him, too.

He pushed off the wall a few minutes later, rounding the corner to the now empty hallway and walking toward the bedroom.

Maybe now they can both be happy again.

[pixeldistractions]

warnings: adult activities and conversation, pictures should be Tumblr-safe (we’ll see…), spice level 3/5 🌶️🌶️🌶️ 😇

He promised she wouldn’t hate this, so sometimes that meant he carried four jugs of water to fill the tank so she could have a luxurious hot shower. She appreciated that, and she would take care of him in return. She massaged his tired muscles, kneading all that tension, the powerful shoulders and hard-working back, and turned him into putty. Then when he was melted to her satisfaction and dozing off to sleep—she wasn’t quite done with him yet—she traced the shapes of his tattoo, spanning shoulder or shoulder.

“Did it hurt?”

“Heh, yeah. It took forever.”

“Does it still?”

“Not anymore.”

“Wait, though, it’s a compass,” she said. “But what good is a compass that you can’t see?”

He chuckled. “Didn’t think of that. Maybe it’s not for me.”

“Who’s it for then?”

“You’re the only one who sees it, so I guess it’s for you.”

“Are you saying I’m lost?”

“No. Not anymore. You have a compass now.”

She could see the corners of his lips, grinning into the pillow.

“Hmm, that’s very suave, mister.”

“We’re gonna pretend I planned it that way.”

She tugged on his body until he rolled over, so she could straddle his front instead, then she leaned down to kiss him.

The close confines of their camper called for some romantic experimentation, but that wasn’t a bad thing. Jordan thrived on variety and the millions of ways and places he could cherish her body. He spoiled her with it. In the cab of the camper, window covers on, lean the seats way way back. A blanket under the stars, rolled up together into a frenzy. Save the moans for outside, though you might scare the wildlife. That could be fun, too. In the deep woods with only the nocturnal creatures as their witness. Don’t be shy of the owls and raccoons. They don’t care, they’re naked, too. A campfire crackling. Shirts kept on, or loosened, or scrunched up in a tangle. A wool blanket draped over her back and slowly falling off with each rock and sway. November brought a harsh chill to the nights, but they were always too hot together to ever feel the cold.

Or, just as often, inside, in their bed. So they devised some tricks, battery powered fans for noise, a makeshift wall made of pallet scrap, a haphazard door cut and fit from more scraps. It closed and locked; that was all that mattered. A carefully placed toy that would rattle when little feet crept out of bed. Keep it slow and rhythmic, so so sweet. Hush now, only whispers and sighs, muffled passions, bit lips, covered moans. Don’t rock the camper.

Another experiment, one that caused some mixed anxieties but was just as exciting, they’d been talking about skin to skin. Maria had been on her new birth control for a full cycle now. She was sure it was the right one this time. Double, triple checked.

“I want to feel you,” she said, “not a rubber bag.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, very sure,” she said, sliding herself over him, up and down and around him, just waiting for the go-ahead to push him deep inside.

“I’m just saying, the last time I did this, someone got knocked up with twins.”

“I won’t get pregnant. Not tonight, anyway.”

“Wow. Okay. Yes.”

And that was all she needed.

“Fuuuuck,” he moaned.

“I’m gonna need you to last more than two minutes.”

He was already far beyond words, so she got straight to work. She moved herself on him purposefully, hitting all her right spots while keeping it slow and steady, watching his face melt with pleasure, slowing him down and trying her best to beat him to the finish line because this was going to be a race. She would win, but it might be close.

The camper rocked, for sure.

— “boxes and squares #5.1: live the fairytale” (7/10)

previously: Jordan is super careful and Maria is irresponsible

notes: this isn’t just frivolous smut, by the way. (Not that I would ever be above writing such a thing!) We are heading into some important character development in the next piece. Also not meant to be foreboding. She really did double-triple check her birth control this time! It’s like 99% effective or something…

Next -> // 5.1 start // index

[double--cross-d]

I'm going insane over T is for Time so you will all hear my thoughts

I feel like the choice of Banaten for the cutscene and not anyone else is highly symbolic. I can explain.

Banaten is canonically disabled. Like it's not a question, it's just fact. In both his description and N is for Nobody, it's revealed Banaten can't climb trees and had to build practically an elevator to get up there.

While this can be chalked up to "haha nerd," there's another description for him that reads (when translated), "A computer geek with an IQ of over 200, [Banaten] is a genius athlete, but his motor skills are virtually zero. He is called the Programmer Monkey."

This pretty much confirms that he's got a disability. So what does this have to do with Time? Well, lets look at the cutscene itself. I'm pretty sure this is supposed to be a nightmare given he's still alive.

First, the setting is a marathon. This seems intentional because typically motor disabilities will interfere with physical activity. And it does, despite being described as "fleet footed" and "a genius athlete" he almost immediately falls behind the other monkeys. While more speculation, it seems those labels are specifically refering to him compared to everyone else in the main eight given neither of those labels seem to be true when compared to members of his own species. This gives the viewer an immediate guess of "oh, the lesson is take your time! He'll be the first to mske it to the end because the other two wore out too fast."

But then, as he runs around the track, all the cheers and music and goofy walking effects leave with only a sound that sounds like a heartbeat left. The referee and all the other racers have also left. This honestly gives the impression of no one wanting to wait for him. Why would they? He's already lost. He just can't give up though, because he's not done with the race yet. The reality of the situation is that this is hurting him.

And then, he starts aging.

He continues running the same track over and over again despite how long it takes in the hope that maybe, just maybe, he can still make it. It doesn't matter that it's taking so long and it's hurting him, even he can do it. The fact that it lingers on his face here may be a realization. That this is his entire life. That what he's been doing was wasted because he just can't. That he won't ever escape his body breaking down on him. Who knows?

Emphasis on the last point too, I want to point out here is how warped his arms on his aged model are, implying most of his motor issues are just showing up more and more over time, as most disabilities will. The fact he's described as young doesn't help either, because he's got his whole life ahead of him and all he can linger on is how his disability will define him.

And then he dies *on* the finish line. Not before, but on top of it. Because he crossed it, he won, but also he died to win a race that he'd already lost. The music here is warped and mournful. Even he can do it, right? He did reach his goal. It just took a lifetime of suffering.

Watching this again with the knowledge that Banaten is canonically physically disabled makes this go from scary to just sad. He's trying so hard but in the end he just can't keep up. But he won't accept the fact that he can't escape his disability's effects just by trying, so he keeps running anyway hoping that he can outrun time's effects on his body.

Idk I'm tired

[jess-fae]

Starbite!!!

a small timeline :3 (little note all of the characters i made for Stars world are inspired by people I meet irl in someway. also her friend group was made with the thought of a group the afd (far right party) would hate so pretty much all the cool people :>)

Starbite was bitten at 14 (2019) with her friend Moonbite aka Malik Schäfer (made by plushjio_ over on insta) Also sort of tw: there is some sexual stuff mentioned bute never detail, mention of grooming and depression

being raised in Germany and still somewhat being naive kids they decided to join the police. Since Moons father was a cop and he teen boy was rather close to Sam a cop in training. This didnt last long however since through carelessness of the cops her aunt may died leaving her an orphan.

She moved in with Moon and his older brother Fabio. To said point Star realised just how corrupt the system is and radicalized going down the left pipeline. This resulted in the birth of Moonbite and Starbite or by the news Mondbiss und Sternenbiss.

(2020) But with Moon and Star running around that clearly had a distaste for the police they were quickly demonized by the Bild (a german newspaper which is known for their right leaning news) Sam who at that point reached the captain status felt personally hurt by them leaving and made it his mission to track them down. He did find out about about their personalities and nearly killed them. Luckly moon was able to "finish him off"

After that they were now seen in a even worse light. Yet distractions were great as Star got closer to a former villain aka Black cat (16 years old), to make it quick they have very homoeotic tendencies Which is also the start of Star learning how to cope badly but more to that later. (here is some art of her)

However star had to face a new Villain Doc Ock a 23 year old scientist who wanted to know more about Moon and hers biology. (He sort of represents the group of young poc guys who vote the afd aka her universes biggest hypocrite.)

(2021) Moon stopped working as much since unlike Star focused more on school. Which lead to a few horrible incidence with Doc Ock where Star only barley came out alive. He also realised that she is stronger than him and needs to find another way to experiment on her. So while she is over worked he would "help" her and slowly trying to win the girls trust. Troubled by how the right gained more popularity she was to stressed to actually learn for her final exams and failed them. Leaving her with a relatively bad graduation. That didnt stop her and Moon however from stealing a BMW E 30 for Moon which later on became his "work car" (dont ask me his creator is a car person) With the old motorbike from Black cat they would go to abandoned part of town and race. Which started the unhealthy coping for Star to get some control in her life. As at that point is very aware that she is a su~!ced bomb. In the summer of 2021 the two were also introduced to the Multiverse as they had a mysterio running around. From there they meet Hobie and later on gwen and quickly finding themself become friends. Hanging out more and more with him. Listen they might had smth going on cus who doesnt love hobie.

I must admit 2022 was defienlty the start of as plushjito put it their hoe era.

In said year Moon and Void (my other friends spidersona iust.numen on insta) were sent on a mission by Miguel which was nerve wrecking for star and moon since they always worked together and this was the first time they were separated. Which turned out it was since moon and void got captured and Moon was experimented on. As that universes Dr. Curtis used dino genes and cat genes (imma post about it later more info) which lead to him growing a tail and cat ears. (100% not cus i first designed him as a human and while plushjito is furry artist bahh naaa)

Anyways to the same time Star started mutating too seemingly on her own. (She was always suppose to mutate more through Doc Ock but that changed since the multiverse stuff blocked that from happing) Unlike moon she grew another set of arms and eyes.

It sort of turned her more into a spider? she got very good eyesight being able to use the lower once at night. her nails became stronger making great claws. Growing Fangs that produce poison that attacks the nervous system. (Also silly fact while ovulating after the deed gets the urge to eat her partners which lead in blood drinking)

After the mutaion Gwen, Hobie and Moons older brother helped take care of them. As moon rapidly grew depressed as he was a very extroverted person who liked to party which now seemed impossible. Star forced herself to come to terms with it as she felt like people needed her more. This is were her prioritizing work over her health started to get bad. As now she was even further removed for Sophia and only associated herself with Star leading her to forget who Sophia was or that it was once her.

There also go any job offers now! They already didnt get a Job other than small stuff.

(the art is iust.numen! check out their insta their art is amazing!!!!)) their so silly i love them!!!!

Anyways imma make another post soon. Again thank you sooo much for reading or just looking at the art<33

[changingplumbob]

Pancakes Household: Chapter 9, Part 3

Battle of the century or kids playing console games...

CW: Unicorn zombie with minor carton gore

Carson: You don’t think this will be too physically taxing do you

Artemisia: Only for losers

Onyx: Don’t worry Carson, there’s no exercise required

Fergus: I dibs the green car

Onyx: Is everyone ready

Artemisia: Oh would you just press start already

Onyx: First round goes to me!

Artemisia: That’s ridiculous, you must have given me the broken controller

Carson: Or you’ve been practicing, I get to pick next track. Strawberry Fields!

Fergus: Oh no I hate that one, I always get stuck in the strawberry jam

Onyx: Just follow along behind me Fergus and you’ll see a clear path okay

Fergus: Thank you Onyx

Artemisia: I always think it’s so funny how well-mannered you are

Carson: I would have thought you’d find that annoying

Artemisia: Nope, it helps us get out of trouble

Onyx: So see here Fergus, if you go between these two flowers there’s the fast launch ramp

Fergus: And no strawberry jam sinkhole!

Artemisia: Hold on, you’re not entitled to win

Fergus: Just try and stop me Emi

Carson: Come on Artemisia, let’s wipe the track with them

Onyx: Team Pancakes!!!

Kayleigh: I like to hear them play, the house is so quiet with just Carson now

Eliza: Bob and I have been thinking of trying for another one after Fergus becomes a teen. Bob would love a daughter

Kayleigh: And how about you

Eliza: Well I’ve never loved being pregnant but a third kid would be nice

Kayleigh: Sweetie I don’t mean to sound indelicate but have you considered adoption

Eliza: Adoption? Is that legal when I can get pregnant?

Kayleigh: It’s the 21st century, just because you can have them doesn’t mean you need to. Not that I can talk, I had four

Eliza: I suppose that way I would avoid the pregnancy impacting on my work

Kayleigh: And if Bob wants a girl you can tell the agency that, but you can’t tell your uterus that

Eliza: *chuckles* Good point, I’ll think about it. Oh, would you excuse me? The markets just opened in Tomarang

Kayleigh: Go ahead, you’ll not beat me at this chess match anyway

Eliza: Thanks for helping me learn more

Kayleigh: No problem, I’ll collect my husband and get out of your hair. Night

Kayleigh: Come on Carson, time to go

Carson: Just let us finish this last race mum

Artemisia: Oh it’s finished and I’m victorious

Fergus: Thanks again for helping me Onyx, I had a lot of fun. See you for my birthday Emi?

Artemisia: Sure thing, Tuesday right

Fergus nods excitedly and the dinner party disperses.

Happy very cloudy Halloween! The Pancakes decide not to have a party since they had one last night and Bob will need to work tonight. After a quick breakfast the household splits up as everyone has their own tasks to do this morning.

Bob of course wants to get his work out in before shift. Fergus is in a patch of hyper focus with his ADHD and decides to play mad scientist in the treehouse. Eliza decides to do a dance workout since she cleaned everything yesterday and finally Onyx is set to walk Ginger again.

Eliza is dancing away when she pulls a muscle in her back.

Eliza: Ouch! Oh, maybe an adoption is a good idea, I will be a 40 soon

Thinking on this she carries on, working on her other muscles. Outside it’s hard for Onyx and Ginger to make out where they’re running but the pair do their best. Ginger isn’t sure why her dad isn’t taking her for these jogs but supposes Onyx is an alright substitute.

Onyx: I’m back home dad, Ginger is all walked

Bob: *grunts with effort* Did you tell your mother

Onyx: No, she’s busy practicing speech and I didn’t want to disturb her

Bob: Smart choice

Onyx begins their cheer routine, they still have some more solo practice to fit in. All is going well until they fall over on their face. They push up looking around but Bob is busy working his legs and hasn’t noticed. To celebrate Onyx pulls off a perfect flip!

Previous ... Next

[livefastdriveyoung]

Takeaways from Testing Day 1

The RB-20 Maintains Status Quo - Max ended a full 1.162 (don't quote me but I think that's the correct math) ahead of Lando Norris in P2. The car did not appear to struggle under its 142 laps. It also remained consistent across majority of the runs. Checo will drive tomorrow.

Aston Martin is being underestimated - Fernando Alonso is a world champion, he started his session in P3. He stayed there for a great deal of the session. Even ending in P8 puts him in the points if this is a race. Additionally, Lance pulled through into the top five, taking P4 for a period of time. He's a strong driver, he shouldn't be underestimated. They both finished in the points, and had Lance not lost his mirror he could have pulled a fast lap.

Williams Car is the problem, not the drivers - I cannot reiterate this one enough. Alex Albon had a fuel pump problem, so entirely out of his control. Logan Sargeant has improved. Undoubtedly so. Not only has he built up his muscle and trained hard, he spun out and still managed to get back onto the track, and sit at P10 for most of the session before ending P11. Allegedly the reason he had a spin out was also because of a gearbox/transmission error. Whether it was the cause or the issue was the result, he held it together well. The car is having problems, not the drivers.

Mercedes Performance - We know that Lewis Hamilton is a strong driver. He's never been the best qualifier when there are competitive cars. Yes, George did not do as well as he could have, ending with P12, but he experienced at least two lock-ups. There's no guarantee that the issues don't exist in Lewis's car as well. We'll see what happens.

The complaint about their front wing design is interesting. F1 and FIA are separate organizations. Mercedes wouldn't blatantly violate the letter of the law, they would be the first team to be called out for it. They follow the letter and have the approval of the FIA. It has been approved. Whether F1's concern about the 'spirit' of the law being violated is something that could impact them, I don't know. I'm sure that the new rules will include a provision against this next year, but any immediate action, I doubt. Symonds is unimpressed.

Haas is not to be thrown out of the running - yet - A new team principal means that there are going to be changes. They straight out said the focus was on the Tyres and not on performance. While they are not a strong team, I think that throwing them away just because you might have preferred Guenther, or like to rely on what you already know, this isn't that. Yet.

Visa Cash-App Racing Bulls - Forget it, I'm calling them V-CARB. Anyway, Daniel Ricciardo, (LOL that autocorrected to all caps which is so funny) had minimal struggle with the car. His first few laps were not great,, but to end in P4 is wonderful. His statements about a podium in the beginning of the season being a dream not a reality is interesting, but I wonder if that is self-deprecation/spreading the party message from within Red Bull's house. Yuki finished P13, but, again, only had a morning slot. He was high up for a good portion of the day as well. I think this is going to be interesting. The narrative that they are not a junior team anymore seems to be accurate.

Stake did well - The C44 is worlds ahead of last year's model. Additionally, we forget regularly that Bottas was a Mercedes driver, he's won Gps before. Zhou is not a bad driver, I think this might be his last season to prove himself because I think Audi will keep someone who has a history of winning, and if the rumors are true, Carlos Sainz will be getting one of the seats. But that might motivate him. He's also young, 24 is below the mean age of the drivers (29) and if he can demonstrate improvements, they might keep him over Bottas.

Ferrari Fights - Buckle down y'all. I don't think that Carlos will do anything to sabotage Charles, he's not an idiot, but he's going to do what he has to in order to prove that Ferrari are losing out on a driver. He was P3 today. Charles is great, we know he can drive, his improvement is clear. I'm curious as to what that is going to look like.

if he's moved on from this, he's going to need to demonstrate to Audi that he can be a First Driver.

Alpine - Pierre pulled P5 right at the end. Ocon is toward the bottom. I'm not sure what's going on in house but nobody is happy allegedly. Guess we'll see.

[batsplat]

come on there’s gotta be at least 3 sete/vale rivalry appreciators (you me and pedro acosta)!! haven’t seen 2003-05 seasons in full but mugello 2004 alone was so great.

vale and gibernau finished 1&2 on the same podium SEVEN times in 2003, the only ppl who did it more in a single year (since 2000, was too lazy to look back further) were lorenzo/pedrosa in 2012 when they swapped 1&2 places 9 times on the podium.

I love you anon

listen, I know some people need their rivalries to be more balanced than this, but in terms of actual on-track battles it's like. one of the very best this century. (I'm trying to hold back from calling it the best this century but I don't not believe that?) also some might argue that the 1-2 achievement is even more impressive in 2003 than in 2012, given more riders were capable of fighting for wins and the field spread was way less dramatic. sete's 2003 season in particular is so underrated, man's scoring an average of 17.3 points per race, four wins, 10/16 races on the podium, only two races where he was worse than fourth... serious pace plus consistency! out of nowhere!

anyway, here's every notable on-track encounter between sete and valentino, with * to **** asterisks by how worth watching it is for the fight between those two specifically. (for most of these, of course you can find more details in the sete post and the valentino race recs post.) using italics I've indicated which races are available on youtube (or on facebook, in the case of phillip island 2004):

welkom 2003**: the first race after kato's death, and the one where sete secures his unlikely emotional victory. valentino applied heavy pressure on sete in the late stages, but sete stood firm

le mans 2003***: yes, valentino was unlucky when the race was interrupted by rain - but the resulting battle between sete and valentino in the last few laps in tricky conditions is fantastic. multiple overtakes on the last lap and both riders off-track at the final corner

catalunya 2003*: valentino looked locked-on for the victory until he made two mistakes, the second of which has him go off-track and drop several places to hand capirossi the win. vale finds some crazy pace to catch up with biaggi and sete and pass them both

sachsenring 2003****: valentino gets a big enough lead you think it's surely over... but then sete catches him, leading valentino to let him go by so he can study him from behind. a dramatic final lap that prompts a bit of an existential crisis from valentino

brno 2003****: valentino shows up after the summer break with red hair, a determined smile and a mission. this race is a thriller, a proper dogfight between 3-5 riders with plenty of twists and turns - before the whole thing distils into an all timer of a final lap duel

rio 2003*: valentino sticks behind sete for a while, but it feels like he was just biding his time. once he gets past, he pushes hard and pulls away for a comfortable win

sepang 2003*: the match point race, after valentino had run away with the season post-brno. valentino gets a middling start and has to hunt down sete, but once he does he again pulls away

mugello 2004***: MY BELOVED. this is where the momentum in that season really shifts, courtesy of one hell of a chaotic race. there is an excellent sete/valentino duel in this race, but it's far from the only thing going on. all of it's brilliant

catalunya 2004****: a race long duel! I love catalunya duels because so much of it is about tyres getting chewed up and the riders wobbling and sliding more and more. sete's home race and psychologically a very important race... one hell of a show

assen 2004****: the turning point of the relationship! I still FULLY believe this set up everything that happened next, even if nobody talks about this race any more. the fight slaps!! the last lap slaps!! the podium with bad vibes slaps!! valentino in that presser!!

brno 2004*: sete badly needed a win here, and in the end it's not particularly close. the early battle with those two and biaggi is fun, but eventually sete's newly upgraded honda has the clear edge

phillip island 2004****: the first duel post-qatar curse - so these two now hate each other. it's also a match point race! banger of a start, sete is proper feisty here leaving valentino to hunt him down. banger of a final lap too

valencia 2004*: last race of the season - and even though the title's been sealed up, wouldn't it be nice to get a morale-boosting win to take into the new year? at sete's home race too? ah, you know how this goes. the way valentino gets past sete is pretty funny

jerez 2005****: well of course! again, fierce start, and it takes a bit to get rid of everyone else so it's just those two again. the last lap is something special, as is the post-race drama

catalunya 2005***: back on sete home turf!! and sete rides such a good race, he's really doing his very best - except of course valentino is hunting him down again. there's a brutally dismissive quality to this victory

le mans 2005***: edwards streaks off in front until valentino catches him - and vale's content to sit on his teammate's rear tyre until sete catches them both. the race from there is a joy

sachsenring 2005***: another goody! hayden features quite prominently in this one, and crucially valentino never manages to make a break for it. sete leads going into the final lap

brno 2005***: the fun of this one is in remembering it's sachsenring // summer break // brno... and the duel here immediately picks up again with valentino brusquely cutting past sete on the first lap. really makes it feel like sete is trapped in some sort of a hellish time loop... the end to this one is proper CRUEL

qatar 2005***: one year anniversary of that race and of course sete is desperate to repeat his success. the more of these you watch the crueller they get, not least when it really does look like he's built up enough of a lead. melandri also plays a big part in this one

mugello 2006**: you just know how badly sete would have loved to win this (and so did the commentators). entire race is excellent but sete mainly features in the starting dogfight, not the latter stages

phillip island 2006**: this is a chaos bike swap race and there's a lot going on, all of which is very relevant to the title fight. relevant to this post is that sete and valentino end up fighting for the last podium place on the very last lap. their last duel before sete's career was cut short by injury

obviously, if anyone's looking to watch the full sete/valentino story, there's a few more races you'd have to add in like 2004 welkom, qatar and sepang. anyway, this rivalry slaps. hopefully soon a fourth person can be recruited to the cause

[crossedsabers10s]

mmmmmmm pookz do you have any words for me to readddddd???????????

I have unearthed this relic from an ancient word doc. It is incomplete, but:

Pouting, Damon tosses his last earring onto the table. It lands next to its brethren, clinking against polished wood. “Stop cheating,” he complains.

He’s losing, which sucks. Losing always sucks, but something about losing to Enzo is especially vexing. Probably because Damon knows the man won’t bring it up, but he will smirk and Damon will just know that he’s thinking about it. Like that time with the snowboards and almost-avalanche. Enzo hadn’t gloated--much--but Damon would look at him and know he was remembering it, but especially the way Damon had finished that race face first in snow.

“Cheating?” Enzo scoffs. “I’m cheating?”

“Yeah. Three straight flushes in a row? At least be more discreet.”

Enzo gestures to the pile of jewelry glittering between them. “And this is good sportsmanship?”

Three sets of earrings and an eyebrow stud glint innocently in the light. “You wear piercings. They count.”

“No,” Enzo tells him. “They don’t. But I suppose I’ll allow it, since you’re so abominable at this.”

“Hey! Fuck you—“

“Maybe later.”

“—I’m great at strip poker!” Damon defends himself. He makes a face at Enzo. “You just cheat.”

Enzo smiles. Damon resists the urge to throw his cards at his stupid face. “Prove it.”

Fangs bared and eyes black, Damon growls. Enzo’s smile kicks up a degree, genuinely amused. Scowling, Damon withdraws his fangs. “I will. Eventually.”

Humming, Enzo reshuffles the cards. Damon tries to keep a sharp eye on him, but is soon distracted by a car approaching. Glancing towards the door, he tries to place the engine but doesn’t recognize it. It cuts off, a door opening then slamming closed. A human heartbeat approaches the house, stopping right at the door. The doorbell rings.

“Expecting visitors?” Enzo asks, sliding Damon’s cards across the tabletop. Damon’s attention snaps back to the other vampire, who offers him a sweet expression. Well, guess he’s losing this hand too.

“No,” he says, not bothering to get up. Hopefully whoever it is will get the hint and go away so that Damon can lose the rest of his dignity in peace.

Besides, they have plans.

The strip poker is more of a time filler, because the club they’re supposed to be going to tonight isn’t open yet, but Damon hasn’t seen his best friend in months and Mystic Falls’ latest Drama™ can wait until morning. Or preferably until tomorrow afternoon, because Damon’s plans include still being clubbing in the morning or at least having spectacular sex. If he doesn’t pass and or black out at some point during the night, then he’s failed his one goal.

The visitor is revealed to be Jenna, who is there to pick up Elena, but Elena and Stefan are still out, so she joins in on the card game while she waits.

With narrowed eyes, Damon reaches up and starts to unscrew the piercing in his tongue.

“Ohmygod,” Jenna mutters to herself. Then she rallies. “You—Uh, you can keep that one over there.”

“Scared of a little bodily fluid?” Damon asks her, but still deposits the little silver ball into an empty bourbon glass.

“I don’t know where you’ve been,” Jenna says, frank.

Wincing, Damon chuckles, “Ouch.”

“Good decision,” Enzo solemnly tells her. He stretches, rolling his shoulders back. Then smirks at Jenna when she has to drag her eyes away.

“So,” she says, just the littlest bit squeakily, “another round?”

Jenna wins. Damon and Enzo are both cheating but she’s great at cards and is taking advantage of them being focused on flirting/bickering with each other.

Did you…? Damon’s tilt of the head asks.

A little wide eyed, Enzo shakes his. No.

Oh. Okay. So Jenna won all on her lonesome then. That’s terrifying. Damon kind of wants to take her to Vegas.

Anyway, Ending A: Stefan and Elena get there in time to watch her absolutely destroy the other two—Enzo’s missing most of his clothes and Damon is too while she’s got the pile by her chair. The two of them enter just in time to interrupt them fully losing their underwear.

Ending B: Stefan and Elena are delayed/Stefan just drops her off at her house and Jenna goes with them to the club.