#and it’s like that one post ‘your favorite driver likes the person you hate’ or whatever

[transbrucewayne]

it’s virtually impossible to be both a Charles and Carlos fan on Twitter….the stans scare me. I’m safe here.

[crazy-only]

oscar finding his reporter cute ! (fluff)

pairing: oscar x fem!reader

premis: oscar helps a shy reporter during an interview and ends up crushing on her! short and sweet, fluff!

preface: posting this in honor of him getting 2nd place in austria !! good job oscar <3

you felt a tap on your shoulder and you spun around, finding a tall guy staring at you. his eyes were bored and a bit annoyed.

“um, can i help you?” you ask politely, checking your watch.

you had already interviewed the drivers that came in third and second place, and you were currently waiting on the first-placing driver to show up.

truth be told, you weren’t really qualified for the job—your sister decided to suddenly honeymoon with her wife and begged for you to replace her. hesitantly, you agreed, dying your hair to match her natural color and hoping your features were similar enough.

the young man scoffed and ran a hand over his face. “woman, you’re joking, yeah?” he asked after rolling his eyes.

honestly, you would’ve assumed this moody guy was the winner as he wore a racing suit, certainly an f1 driver with the after effects of participating in a race apparent, sweat running down his neck leading to the contour of his—

no, y/n! focus! your sister called moments ago saying the winner of the race was extremely ugly, and, according to her words, “you can’t miss him.”

and, as much as you hated to admit it, the fiesty male was far too attractive to fit your sister’s description.

“sorry, i, um, don’t follow?” you say, nervously running your fingers through your hair, microphone in the other hand.

the man looked back to face an older man sporting a mclaren hat, the former muttering something while angrily staring at you.

is this what a red flag feels like before getting torn to shreds by a bull?

“ok, lisa, you’re on air!”

you turn around rapidly at the mention of your sister’s name, searching for the driver you needed to interview.

“um,” you start shyly, looking into the scary camera. “we are still waiting on the pole position winner for the silverstone grand prix—“

there’s laughs amongst the viewers, and you cock your head trying to find their source of amusement.

“—well we are waiting on him to arrive, so sit tight while we try to find him!”

yet, to your horror, the camera stays on, the filming crew motioning for you to continue.

“hey.”

you turn to find the same utterly attractive yet rude driver staring down at you, mouth in a line and arms crossed as if he were the one that should be stressed.

“oh, you again,” you accidentally mutter into the microphone, freezing once you realized what you’ve done. except, the crowd simply laughed.

you cursed under your breath.

they’re laughing at you, y/n. you’re such a dumbass.

“yes,” the young man said sarcastically while tugging the mic towards himself, only helping to raise the volume of the laughs from the stands. “it’s me again.”

you nodded, anxiety burning in your veins, not knowing what to say. this was not as simple as your sister had said it would be.

“while we’re waiting for the grand prix winner,” oscar said, now stealing the mic completely, “why don’t i ask you some questions, reporter?”

crap!

“uh, okay,” you murmur into the mic the driver stretches towards you. for some reason your palms started getting clammy. was it your nerves?

he puts a hand on his hip and pretends to be in a deep state of thinking. “let’s start with an easy question.” he came closer so your bodies were only a pace away.

“who’s your favorite driver?”

uh oh.

“th-that would be, erm, lan?—lando!”

phew. thank god you remembered the name of the last driver you interviewed!

but the driver interviewing you walked away, suddenly a bit angry. then he ran back into frame, looking into the camera. “do you see how i’m treated around here?”

the crowds laughed, and you hid your smile.

was this the same person you met earlier? how was he so. so—so amiable?

“ok ms. reporter, next one: do you have a sister?”

“yes,” you said into the outstretched mic, trying to hide the shakiness in your voice.

then the man brushed his hand against yours just below the vision of the camera, and—was that a smile? did he just smile at you?

your breathing slowed, thankfully feeling a lot more calm.

you continued, saying, “i do. her name is y/n.”

the driver nodded, acting as if he were actually interested. “is she cute?” the man whispered into the mic.

and god, you would’ve thought this was a comedy show thanks to the immense amount of laughing if he weren’t dressed in a sweaty race suit that perfectly hugged his abdominal region and quads—

then you saw him walk slightly out of the frame, waving at you frantically. he mouthed:

ask me about the race!

good idea.

you leaned into the mic the man held, flooded by his addicting scent. “how was your race?”

“ah, thanks for asking,” he said, clearly having a talent for acting. “it was great! i’m really happy with my results. i scored a lot of points for my team, so honestly i couldn’t have asked for more.”

he went on about the technicalities and such of his car, what went wrong and right, what he should improve on; thankfully he talked until the time was out.

“well, there you have it!” you say as the camera crew gave you the cue to stop the interview.

“what’s your name, again?” you whispered to him.

at this point he just leaned into the mic. “it’s oscar piastri.” the crowd went wild, making him smile.

for some reason you got stupidly jealous.

“seems our pole position driver never showed up—“ you started saying, until the camera crew pointed towards a lit screen with words.

“but nonetheless, thank you for tuning in,” you said, and then continued reading the transcript, explaining the time and date for the next race.

once finished, the camera finally shut off, and with a big sigh, you retired your mic and made your way to your car. never again were you doing another favor for your sister.

“good job, y/n,” oscar murmured, having bent down from behind so only you could hear him. “turns out you are cute.”

fuck. how did he find out?

you swept around, hand over mouth in dread.

“oh, come on, it was obvious!” oscar said proudly. “you did not know a single thing about racing—and you look so different from your sister.”

you simply stood in shock. quietly gauging whatever despicable plan he was carrying out.

“do you still not know who i am?” he asked incredulously.

you cocked your head. “you’re a driver. what was it? osc-oscar pastry?”

he handed his heavy helmet over to you.

“there. now you’ll never forget my name again. it’s fucking piastri.” he ran his hands over his face, losing patience.

“ask me who won the race!” oscar finally said, cracking.

“um, we aren’t in the interview anymore?—“

he shook you by the arms, saying, “i won the goddamn race! i got first, y/n!”

“you’re the grand prix winner?! b-but my sister told me you were supposed to be unattractive!”

oscar raised his eyebrows, asking “is that so?” he tilted his head slightly, a cheshire cat’s smile forming.

“does that mean you find me attractive?”

uh oh.

your body was on fire, maybe more anxious than from the interview.

“since you kept staring at my body the whole interview,” oscar said as he smirked down at you, his brown eyes clearly satisfied at your shocked reaction. “take me out and i won’t tell.”

maybe you would do more of your sister’s favors.

[satorulovebot]

so scarlet it was, maroon | chapter one

✧₊⁺ pairing — satoru gojou x journalist!reader

✧₊⁺ chapter summary — you get the chance to meet the infamous gojou satoru while working on your journalism project at suzuka circuit. what could you possibly want from him?

✧₊⁺ word count — 6.3k

✧₊⁺ warnings — nsfw (minors dni), age gap, alcohol use, mature themes, mentions of cheating, substance abuse, themes of marriage and divorce

✧₊⁺ notes — hello everyone! i asked you awhile ago on a poll which series you would like to see after cursed seas and f1 gojo won the poll and then i posted the masterlist and everyone wants it so you get it now. so here it is. and NO its not happy NEVER expect happiness from me because im allergic to it. also the reader being nosy af is inspired by me and my parents telling me i should be a journalist with how nosy i am.

series masterlist // pinterest moodboard // general masterlist

next chap. (coming soon)

You moved to Tokyo with your family when you were younger.

You grew up in a rural part of the country, surrounded by farmers and people either ready to retire or nearing the end of their lives. Your parents hated living there, and so did you—for one, there were hardly any kids to play with, and two, as your father would say, "too many old fuckers lying around."

When you moved to Tokyo, your family decided to celebrate by taking you to a Formula 1 race. Your dad thought it would be perfect for the two of you since fixing up old cars had always been your daddy-daughter activity.

You didn’t like the idea of racing at first—the noise was too loud, and the idea of people speeding toward a black-and-white checkered line seemed ridiculous. But the moment you heard the roar of the engines and watched the lights go from red to green, you were captivated, a fascination that would stay with you for years.

When you got your first computer, you began looking up videos of F1 drivers. One day, you stumbled across a video titled “The Biggest F1 Scandals in History,” and that was when you decided you wanted to go into journalism.

You were nosy, to say the least. So, it was no surprise to your parents when you announced to them that you wanted to pursue journalism as a career. Your father reminded you how you’d always been curious, listening in on others’ conversations and keeping up with the latest school drama.

When you applied for journalism school, you were accepted into one of the top programs in the world—Sophia University. Your parents were proud that you’d made it into such a highly ranked school for journalism in Japan.

You were now in your fourth and final year at Sophia, and enjoying your journalism class. Recently, your professor assigned a project: write a story about a major pop culture figure of your choice, and for extra credit, get an interview with them. Your professor knew it was damn near impossible, but he was always optimistic that one day, someone would get that interview and he could retire in peace.

That project led you here: Suzuka Circuit, Japan's main Formula 1 track. Your chosen figure was none other than Gojou Satoru—F1's biggest driver in recent years. He was your father's favorite among the new-generation drivers, known for his string of controversies since he started on top of the persistent rumors of his heavy drug use before races.

You had managed to snag a media passs from your professor when you mentioned doing an F1 driver for your project. He was able to pull some strings to get you into the media booth, getting you a closer look at Gojou Satoru in person.

You watched the pre-race preparations closely from the media booth, your fingers hovered above your notepad as you waited for the race to start. You were determined to get a good grade on this project, and that meant adding every single detail to your report about this race.

It was about time for the drivers to gather in their garages, each wearing headsets and ready for the pre-race briefing. The briefing typically covers the race start, various pit stop scenarios, and a detailed weather report. Before each race weekend, they usually spend time in a simulator of the track they'll be racing on, preparing them for the upcoming race.

After about thirty-minutes the racers came out of their garages in their respective cars. They each line up based on the results of a quaifying session that takes place before the race, slowest qualifier in the back, fastest in the front. Gojou Satoru was at the front of the grid, which meant he was one of the qualifiers who had the fastest time.

You waited around for a little while longer turning your attention to what was happening around you. Eventually, you made your way back to the front of the media booth as the race started, ready to report.

The engines revved as each driver began preparing for the start of the race, each car vibrating on the starting grid like a beast straining at its chains. Gojou sat at the front of the lineup, his hands loose on the wheel, fingers tapping in a steady rhythm as he waited for the lights to turn green.

The roar from the grandstands faded, becoming a blur of sound as the lights ticked down: red, red, red, red… green.

He slammed the throttle, feeling the raw force of the car’s engine kick him back into his seat as he tore down the straight. Other cars jostled for position behind him, all fighting to claim the inside line into the first turn.

Through his earpiece, he heard the voice of his race engineer, Shokou, calm as ever. “Clear on turn two, you’ve got five-tenths on Hayashi. Stay tight.”

But Gojou barley heard her. The car was an extension of him, responding to his every thought, every split-second decision. He pushed down the straights, his right foot heavy on the accelerator, taking corners at speeds most drivers wouldn’t dare attempt. The sound of his tires skidding against the asphalt, the blur of the track side barriers, the lights of Tokyo reflecting off his mirrors—it all blended into a single, perfect rush.

Gojou could see the next turn ahead, a tight chicane that could send the best drivers into the barriers if they weren't careful. He braked hard, turning the wheel with perfect precision to angle the car through. He could feel the back end wobbling, but he didn't flinch, drifting perfectly as he swung back onto the racing line, gaining another second on the pack.

He could almost hear the collective gasp of the crowd in his head as he slipped through the chicane. This was his playground. Every race was a chance to remind the world why he was the best.

“Coming up on a DRS zone,” Shoko’s voice crackled in his ear, grounding him, though he was already on it

He waited for the perfect moment, watching the rear-view mirror to see the faint outline of Hayashi's car. He pressed the DRS, and his car shot forward, the drag reduction giving him a temporary speed boost that had him pulling away, putting him in the lead.

The track opened up ahead, the second sector full of wide, sweeping turns. Here was where raw speed mattered more than anything. Gojou pressed down hard on the accelerator, the engine roaring in response. He leaned forward, watching the track fly by, the white lines blurring as he focused entirely on the road ahead.

For a second, the sound in his earpiece went dead, the faint sound of static filling his ears. Then Shokou was back. “You’ve got Yoshida closing in on your tail. He’s pushing hard.”

Gojou glanced up at the mirrors, his eyes catching the bright blue and orange of Yoshida's car looming larger. The familiar thrill sparked in him. So, Yoshida thought he had a chance, did he? Well, he’d show him otherwise.

“Copy,” he muttered into his mic, eyes narrowing as he took the next corner, barley touching the brakes. He felt the tires skid but he managed to control the drift, knowing any slip would open the door for Yoshida to slip past.

He whipped into another straight, his hands steady on the wheel as he hit a top speed.

His foot didn’t so much as twitch as the engine’s roar morphed into a high-pitched scream as the car closed the distance.

The curve ahead was brutal—a tight 90-degree bend that demanded precise timing.

In a split-second decision, he did something no one expected. He braked late, his heart pounding as he cut the turn at a speed that sent the back end skidding. The tires gripped just in time, allowing him to pull out of the corner without losing traction. He could almost feel the shock reverberating as he regained control, his lead still intact.

As the laps wore on, his body moved on instinct, every gear shift, every turn becoming a single, fluid motion. One lap. Two. Three, with two pit stops between. He counted them off one by one, his mind buzzing with the pure rush of speed and the heat inside the car, barely noticing the time passing. The crowd faded into nothing, the world shrinking down to the track and his car.

The final lap. This was it.

“Box this lap if you’re in trouble,” Shokou’s voice crackled again. “Tire degradation is high.”

But Gojou’s grip on the steering wheel only tightened. His front tires were holding out—barely. It would be tight, but he could make it. He’d run this last lap on sheer determination alone if he had to.

“Negative, Shokou. I’m taking it,” he replied, and then turned off the earpiece, tuning out everything except the track and the car in front of him.

He launched into the final lap, throwing caution to the wind. Yoshida was right on his tail now, close enough that he could see the gleam of his headlights in the mirrors. But Gojou didn’t back down. He took each turn aggressively, blocking Yoshida's attempts to pass, forcing him to fall back every time.

The last chicane loomed ahead, his final obstacle before the finish line. He tightened his grip, the wheel trembling under his hands. He took the chicane fast, too fast, almost feeling the wheels lift off the ground as he flew out of the turn. The car rocked, but he held steady, pushing the pedal to the floor.

The finish line was in sight, a faint white line at the end of the straight, and with one last push, he crossed it, the checkered flag waving in his periphery as he tore past.

It was only after he’d crossed over the line that the realization hit him—he’d won.

The cheers erupted in the stands, the roar of the crowd filling his ears as he slowed down, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. He could hear Shoko’s voice crackling back in as she shouted, “You pulled it off, you insane bastard.”

Gojou grinned, leaning back in his seat, still buzzing. He’d done it again, just as he always did.

The moment he climbed out of the cockpit, Gojou was surrounded by his team. Shokou was the first to reach him, her usually composed face split by a wide grin. She grabbed his helmet and thumped him on the shoulder hard enough so he actually felt it though the layers of his suit.

“You reckless son of a—”

“Language, Shokou,” Gojou interrupted, grinning as he yanked off his gloves, waving to the rest of the Tokyo Jujutsu Racing team that swarmed him.

“Do you know what it’s like to watch you pull stunts like that? I’m gonna need a raise after today’s heart attack,” she muttered.

“Oh, come on, Shokou. That was just a little fun.” He stretched his arms over his head. “Where’s my confetti?”

“Coming right up, your royal highness." Someone handed him a bottle of champagne, still cold and slick, and he twisted the cap, spraying a wild arc of foam that showered his team and nearby fans.

His PR manager, Nanami, clapped him on the back. “You’re insufferable."

“That’s what I’m here for,” he said, lifting the champagne bottle in a mock toast, flashing him a grin. The media’s cameras clicked and flashed, capturing every moment as his crew continued their congratulations.

The crowd pressed close against the barriers, shouting his name, waving homemade banners with scribbled slogans and his number embellished with the colors red and black. He walked closer, one arm raised, acknowledging the fans, letting their cheers fill him up, louder and louder with every step.

But as he continued walking, his gaze caught on something—or rather, someone—just beyond the crowd.

At first it was just a hint curiosity, the way your gaze was fixed on him. A bit removed from the chaos, you leaned against one of the barriers with a media pass hanging around your neck, arms folded as you watched from a distance.

Gojou slightly narrowed his eyes, holding your gaze longer than he'd held any fan's tonight, as if he was daring you to look away first.

“What the hell is that about?” he muttered under his breath, gaze moving back to Shokou for half a second.

“Hm?” Shokou followed his gaze, but her eyes slid right past you, uninterested. “Press. You’ll get used to it. Come on, they’re all waiting.”

He forced himself to break the stare, clearing his throat as Shokou ushered him toward the media pen, where a lineup of journalists waited, all armed with recorders, microphones, and notebooks.

He fielded the usual questions—how did it feel to win, what was his mindset, what was he thinking on that last turn? His answers were always the same practiced ones, words sliding out like clockwork.

“Well, Mr. Gojou, what would you say to those who believe your racing style is a little… aggressive?” one journalist asked, a little smirk on her face as if she thought she was catching him off guard.

He snorted. “They can call it what they want. I call it winning.” He shrugged. “I don’t come out here to play it safe.”

A few reporters laughed at his remark, clearly interested in what else he had to say as a fresh wave of questions started.

Somewhere behind the flashing lights, he saw you again, lingering a few feet behind the crowd of reporters with that calm gaze fixed on him. You didn’t raise a recorder or a camera, didn’t even make an effort to push closer for a question. You just… watched.

It was disconcerting.

“Gojou!” Another journalist waved a microphone his face, snapping his attention back to the current situation. “What’s the next step for you this season?”

He forced a smile, eyes briefly looking back to you before he focused on the question. “The same as always,” he said. “Push harder, get faster, and give everyone something to talk about.”

The crowd laughed again, though, he barely heard them, too focused on the strange woman staring right into his soul. The two of you locked eyes and you have him a small nod, as if acknowledging that you were in fact staring into his soul.

“Well, I think that’s enough,” Shokou said suddenly at his elbow, pulling him out of his thoughts. “They’ll have plenty of time to hound you later.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmured, though he let her guide him away. Still, he couldn’t help glancing back over his shoulder, hoping to catch one last glimpse of you.

But you were already gone.

Gojou slipped away from the crowd, weaving through the bustling garage and dodging the congratulatory slaps on his back, the endless rounds of handshakes, and the celebratory shouts. He ducked past a few journalists, ignoring the barrage of questions still hurled his way, his smile slipping as he finally found the door to the bathroom.

Inside, the cool, sterile silence was jarring compared to the noise outside, but he let out a sigh of relief, his heart hammering in his chest. He clicked the lock and leaned against the sink, running his hands over his face, staring at his own reflection in the mirror.

The victory high had worn off, leaving behind a familiar pressure he could not cope with. It settled on his shoulders like an old, unwelcome friend.

He hadn't realized how much tension he was carrying in his shoulders, how deeply it would itself into him when he was alone. The race had been perfect, his win flawless, but he could feel the exhaustion radiating off of him, a pulsing throb being his eyes. He clenched his jaw, glaring at himself in the mirror.

“Pull yourself together,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

But his words fell flat, swallowed up by the silence. In the mirror, his own eyes stared back at him, tired, almost hollow.

He reached into the pocket of his racing suit, fingers brushing over the small, familiar packet hidden in the inner lining. It was a stupid habit, a reckless one really, but it was one he hadn't been able to shake, no matter how many times he tried to quit. He could practically feel the temporary relief in the palm of his hand.

He closed his eyes, running his thumb along the edge of the packet before pulling it out, setting it on the counter next to the sink. He ripped it open tapping a small line onto the smooth counter top. It was like his fingers had a mind of their own, as if it was part of his routine of suiting up or gripping the wheel.

The powder glinted under the bathroom’s harsh fluorescent lights, almost mocking him with its simplicity. Just a quick escape, just enough to take the edge off. That’s all he needed.

He leaned down, closing one nostril and inhaling sharply, feeling the sting as the powder hit his nose. He straightened his back, blinking hard, the world around him sharpening as his mind cleared. A small, humorless smile tugged at his lips.

He leaned back against the sink, tilting his head up to stare at the ceiling, feeling his heartbeat slow, the tension in his muscles fading away.

But it didn’t take long for the guilt to creep back in, that hollow feeling settling in his chest, a reminder that this wasn't the answer. He knew it. He knew exactly what he was doing to himself, how he was destroying his body from the inside out, how it could all come crashing down. And yet… here he was.

“Fucking pathetic,” he muttered to himself, his voice echoing against the tiles.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, jolting him back to reality.

“Gojou? You in there?” It was Shokou. “They’re waiting for you out here.”

He stuffed the empty packet back into his pocket, brushed the last of the substance off of the sink, and glanced in the mirror one last time to check his reflection, making sure there was no trace left of his momentary escape.

Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders, forced a smirk, and unlocked the door.

Shokou was standing there, arms crossed, her gaze scrutinizing as he stepped out. She didn’t say anything, but her judgmental eye lingered over him for a split second too long.

“You good?”

“Never better."

“Right,” she said, clearly unconvinced, but she dropped it, gesturing for him to follow her.

As the celebrations continued, Gojou weaved his way through fans and team-members alike who were still wrapped up in their post-race celebrations. He scanned the crowd, hoping to find the strange woman from earlier who he noticed had a press pass, thinking you would be here.

And then he saw you, leaning against a stack of crates near the garages, observing the current scene with the same judgmental eyes that Shokou had. The media badge hung from your neck, swaying slightly as you shifted your weight, pulling out a notebook and flipping through it, seemingly absorbed in what you were currently doing.

He cleared his throat as he approached, the echo of his footsteps giving his presence away.

You looked up, your brow raised as he came closer, a hint of intrigue flashing in your eyes.

“Looking for something?” you asked, not moving as he stopped in front of you.

“You could say that,” he replied, slipping his hands into his pockets, his gaze darted to the notebook in your hands. “I couldn’t help but notice you earlier, off in the shadows. Didn’t feel like joining the crowd?”

“Not my style.” You shrugged. “I’m not here to cheer. I’m here to report.”

“Journalist, huh?” he drawled, tilting his head. “What’s your angle?”

“The truth,” you said, a little smile pulling at your lips as you studied him. “Not everyone’s a fan of that, I know.”

“Depends on what you call the truth. But I’ve got a feeling you’ve already got your version.”

"How perceptive. I’m doing a piece on your racing career, your achievements, but… the public wants a fuller picture, don’t you think?

“Not sure I follow. Everyone knows what they need to know.”

“Not quite,” you replied, flipping through your notebook. “There’s more than just racing stats when it comes to Gojou Satoru, isn’t there?”

“Care to elaborate?”

“People say you’re… unraveling. Your recent ‘questionable decisions’ are starting to paint a different picture, don’t you think?” you said, tapping your pen against your notebook. “The accidents, the fines, the constant change in pit crews—”

“Is this some kind of witch hunt?” he interrupted. “Because I’d hate to disappoint you, princess, but I’ve heard it all.”

“Maybe so.” You leaned in a bit, meeting his stare. “But what about the whispers that aren’t out yet? The suspicions about you cheating the drug tests, your team shielding you—” You paused. “There’s a lot of money on your success, Mr. Gojou.”

“Money and racing have always gone hand-in-hand, don’t you think? You’d have a hard time finding someone out here who hasn’t bent a rule or two.”

“True enough.” You titled your head slightly. “But even the most golden careers have a way of losing their shine.”

"Tell me—do you enjoy tearing people down for a living?”

“Only if it’s warranted,” you replied unfazed. “People aren’t interested in perfect stories. They want the flaws, the dirt. It makes it all more real. At least that's what my professor believes."

“You’ve got a wicked mind, I’ll give you that. But I hope you realize you’re not the first to come sniffing around for the ‘real story’.”

A pregnant pause settles between you before you asked, “And what about her?”

A beat passed before he answered. “Who?”

“Your wife. She’s been… noticeably absent from the press circuits. And rumor has it things aren’t exactly picture-perfect between you two.”

“Rumor has it,” he repeated. “Guess you know how it is in this business. There’s always some rumor or another.”

“So it’s just a rumor, then? All the time apart, the missed events, her name suddenly missing from every headline. You’re saying there’s nothing to it?”

“People are eager to make stories out of nothing. My private life is just that—private.”

“That’s interesting,” you murmured, not looking away. “Because the most recent stories about you and her—they’re awfully detailed. People are noticing, wondering why she’s suddenly… disappeared from the scene.”

“Let them wonder. Like I said, people will talk. And it seems like you’re more interested in gossip than journalism.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Journalism is about uncovering the truth,” you countered. “But it seems like you’re more comfortable brushing things under the rug than addressing them.”

His smile returned, his carefully crafted facade sliding back into place as he straightened up, glancing away from you, clearly bored of the conversation. "Maybe someday you'll get the truth you're so desperate for, but it's not going to be today."

Before he walked away completely, he gave you one last look, his tone playful but laced with a hint of warning. “Be careful what you dig up, princess. Sometimes the truth’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

And with that, he turned his back to you, disappearing into the crowd.

Gojou returned home after the long night of celebrations had died down, the adrenaline from the race long gone, now replaced by a gnawing emptiness that felt like it might hollow him out. His penthouse was in the hear of Tokyo—a sleek, modern apartment with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the neon-drenched skyline.

As he opened the door, the soft him of the city below was drowned out by the sound of footsteps, His wife, Hana, appeared from the hallway, her arms crossed tightly across her chest, her eyes narrowed. She was dressed in a sleek black outfit, her dark hair pulled back, a looking a frustration etched onto her face.

“You’re late."

“Didn’t realize I was on a curfew,” he replied, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto a nearby chair.

“Don’t act like that.” Her eyes flashed as she followed him into the living room. “You missed the dinner with my parents again. They’ve been asking about you, wondering why you’re never around.”

“Hana, I just won a race,” he replied, exasperated. “Sorry if I wasn’t in the mood to play the doting son-in-law tonight.”

She scoffed, crossing her arms tighter. “Of course, it’s always about the race with you. Everything is about that damn career, isn’t it?”

“You knew what you were signing up for when you married me.”

“Maybe I didn’t know it would mean you disappearing for days, weeks sometimes, chasing whatever thrill you think you need to feel alive.”

“What’s your point, Hana? We’ve had this argument a hundred times.”

“The point is, Satoru,” she said, voice trembling with anger, “that you seem to care more about everything else than this marriage. I’m just a fixture in your life, something you come back to whenever you need to check a box or show face. But you’re never really here.”

He let out a harsh laugh, the bitter sound filling the apartment. "Here we go again. Hana, it’s not like you’ve been some shining example of commitment either. You’ve known what this is for months.”

“What this is?” Her voice rose, cracking slightly as she repeated his words. “What exactly is ‘this,’ Satoru? A sham? A partnership for appearances? I thought you loved me…"

“I can’t keep doing this,” she continued softly, her voice breaking. “The lying, the pretending. It’s exhausting.”

“So what do you want me to say, Hana? That I’m some perfect husband?” He gestured to himself, shaking his head with a smirk that looked almost pained. “We’re both guilty here. Let’s not act like this hasn’t been a slow-motion train wreck.”

“Fine. But do me a favor—at least act like you care when people ask. Because every time I hear some story about you, another scandal or rumor, it’s like a slap in the face. My family, my friends—everyone’s talking. They see the headlines too.”

“Fine. But do me a favor—at least act like you care when people ask. Because every time I hear some story about you, another scandal or rumor, it’s like a slap in the face. My family, my friends—everyone’s talking. They see the headlines too.”

“What do you want from me, Hana?” he asked quietly, the fight suddenly draining out of him. “You want me to pretend I’m someone I’m not?”

“I want… I wanted the man I married. The one who cared, who had dreams."

“Then maybe,” he said finally, his voice almost a whisper, “it’s time to stop pretending.”

As Gojou stood there running a hand through his hair. Hana paused, her expression shifting from something resigned to something wounded.

“And there’s one more thing."

He looked at her, brow furrowing. “Fucking Christ Hana, what now?”

“Do you think I’m stupid, Satoru?” she asked, folding her arms tightly across her chest. “I know what’s out there. The rumors. The whispers about who you’re with when you’re not here. Or maybe you think I don’t hear them.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Hana, they’re just rumors. You know how the press is—they’ll twist anything for a story.”

“Twist what, exactly? Why do they have something to twist in the first place?”

“They don’t have anything. It’s just the media looking for something to make people read. Speculation sells.”

“Right. Speculation. But funny how it’s always about you, always linked to another woman.”

“That’s because I’m under a microscope. People love to create scandals, especially with someone like me. And you know that better than anyone.”

“It’s not just them, Satoru. People talk, and it’s not just baseless gossip. I’m not naive. I hear things from people close to you, people who actually know you.”

“You really believe them? You think I’m out there, risking everything for some—” He stopped himself, biting his tongue.

“Do I? I don’t even know my own husband anymore. Maybe I should ask them. Or maybe I should ask you directly, Satoru. Are you seeing someone?”

“Why are we even doing this?”

“Because I want the truth. Just once. I deserve that much, don’t I?”

“Believe what you want, Hana. I don’t have anything else to say.”

“Then maybe that’s all I need to know.”

Gojou stormed out of his apartment, his hands clenching and unclenching as he tried to shake off his frustration. He'd had enough for one night. His heart was pounding and the last thing he wanted was to be alone with his thoughts. He needed to get out, to drown the anger with something that could at least help him forget.

The bar he found was tucked away down a dim side street in Shibuya. It wasn't anything fancy–a dark cry from the glitzy nightlife he was used to–but it was dark and quiet which was exactly what he needed. He slid onto a bar stool and motioned for a drink, not bothering to pay attention to what the bartender poured.

He sipped his drink in silence, trying to tune out the night and all the noise in his head. The alcohol burned down his throat, but it was a welcome distraction that numbed his anger and frustration. He was almost on his third drink when he noticed someone sitting in the corner of the room, hunched over a notebook, tapping her pen against her cheek in thought.

She's cute, he thought to himself. He squinted trying to get a better look at the young woman, and he immediately recognized, it was you.

Of all the places he'd expect to see you, this shitty bar wasn't one of them. You looked so absorbed in your work, like you were piecing together something for a story. Satoru's curiosity got the better of him, and he stood up carrying his drink as he made his way over to where you were sitting.

"Well, well," he said, leaning against the back of the chair across from you. “Didn’t peg you for a bar rat, but maybe I was wrong.”

Your head snapped up, and your eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Gojou Satoru. What a surprise.”

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, already taking the seat.

“Didn’t think someone like you would end up in a place like this. Celebrating?”

He gave a dry laugh, swirling the glass in his hand. “Something like that.”

“So, what are you doing here, really? Figured you’d be at a fancy cafe, writing about some important news story.”

“Maybe I am. Research is research, even if it’s in a bar. Maybe it’s you I’m writing about.”

“So I’m your new project, huh?”

“Maybe. It’s part of this little journalism course I’m doing. We’re supposed to pick a public figure and write a profile. Someone who’s got a��� colorful public image.”

“Colorful, huh?” He smirked. “Guess I’m your lucky target. Hope I make an interesting subject."

“Interesting is one word for it,” you replied, a faint smirk tugging at your lips. “What’s got you so quiet tonight? I thought you’d be surrounded by fans somewhere.”

He shrugged, taking a long sip of his drink. “Not in the mood for fans tonight.”

“Tough race?”

He laughed humorlessly, shaking his head. “Not the race. Just… life, I guess.”

“So,” he said, leaning in. “tell me about this little journalism course. You planning to make a career out of stalking poor drivers like me?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that. We’re learning how to ‘uncover the truth’—or at least, that’s what they say. So far, it’s been a lot of digging through archives and learning to ask the right questions.”

“Right questions, huh?” He arched an eyebrow. “Let’s hear one. What would you ask me, if I were your ‘colorful public figure’?”

“Alright, Gojou. How does someone at the top of their game manage to keep it all together? All the races, the publicity, the pressure… don’t you ever feel like it’s too much?”

“Honestly?” He ran a hand through his hair, glancing away. “Sometimes, yeah. It’s not as easy as it looks, being the guy everyone thinks has it all together. But people don’t care about that part. They just want the show.”

“So you put on the show.”

“Guess that’s what it comes down to.” He laughed, but it sounded hollow even to his own ears. “People don’t want to see a guy crack under pressure. They want the image.”

“But what do you want?”

No one ever asked him that, as if what he wanted didn’t matter.

“What do I want?” he repeated, a slight smirk tugging at his lips as he tried to dodge the question. “Maybe another drink.”

I’m serious. Behind all of that… what’s left?”

“Honestly? Sometimes I don’t even know anymore. It’s like I’ve been going so fast for so long, I can’t remember what it was I was chasing in the first place.”

“Maybe that’s what you need to figure out, then.”

He looked at you, and the faintest trace of a genuine smile broke through. “Maybe.”

The two of you sat in silence, and he found himself grateful for it. You didn't press or pry at him and he thought that he could just be himself, even if it was just for a little while.

“Alright,” he said finally, nudging your notebook with his finger. “So, future journalist, you really gonna write all this down? Make me sound like some tortured artist?”

You smirked. “I’ll try to be kind. Maybe I’ll even leave out the part where you go to bars alone and pretend to be mysterious.”

“Ouch,” he chuckled, holding up his drink in mock surrender. “Noted. But I expect a copy when it’s published. Autographed, obviously.”

“Obviously,” you replied, laughing as you clinked your glass against his. “But don’t expect it to be flattering.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As the conversation continued, Gojou found himself leaning in closer. You both let the drinks keep coming, though it was less about how much alcohol you were consuming and more about the way the words spilled more easily between you two.

“So,” you asked, taking another sip of your drink, “what’s it actually like out there? Everyone sees the fame, the money, the cars, but… what’s it really like?”

He exhaled, tapping his fingers on the edge of his glass. “Honestly? It’s… intense. There’s this high to it, this adrenaline. Nothing like it. You’re pushing yourself and everyone around you to the edge," he tilted his head. “But sometimes, it feels like the line between winning and crashing out isn’t as thick as people think. You cross it once, and that’s it—you’re done.”

“Doesn’t that scare you?”

“A little. But I’m more afraid of what happens if I stop. It’s like… I don’t know what I’d be without it. Guess that sounds stupid.”

“No, it doesn’t. I get it. When something’s all you know… giving it up is like giving up a part of yourself. Scary as hell.”

“Exactly. Guess we all have our addictions, huh?”

Shit. Did he say too much?

You didn’t push, just gave him a quiet nod. “So, what’s Tokyo Jujutsu like? It's one of the toughest team on the grid, right?”

“You know it. They’re tough as hell, no room for error. And they sure as hell won’t give you a second chance if you mess up.”

“Sounds brutal."

“Yeah, maybe. I guess I like the challenge. Or maybe I just like proving people wrong.”

“Enough about me," he continued. What about you? What’s the deal with this journalism project? Are you trying to make a name for yourself by exposing all my secrets?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Believe it or not, my goal in life isn’t to ruin yours. I actually think it’s fascinating, learning what drives people, what keeps them going, even when things get messy.”

“Messy? What makes you think my life is messy?”

“Oh, please. Gojou Satoru’s life is one headline after another. You’re practically the poster boy for drama.”

He feigned a hurt expression, placing a hand over his heart. “You wound me. I’m just a guy trying to make a living, you know?”

“Right,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Just a guy who happens to have a dozen scandals and an equal number of speeding tickets.”

“Hey,” he laughed, leaning back in his chair. “I’m a professional, okay? That’s all part of the job.”

The two of you continued to chat into the night. Gojou found himself relaxing, caught up in the rare comfort of talking with someone who didn’t expect him to play a part. He could just… be.

At some point, the bartender announced last call, and Gojou glanced at you, smirking. “Guess that’s our cue.”

You stretched, gathering your notebook and tucking it under your arm. “Thanks for the, uh, ‘research material.’ It was… enlightening.”

He laughed, standing and grabbing his coat. “Anytime. But don’t go making me look like a complete asshole in your little project, alright?”

“No promises."

Outside, the air was crisp as he faint hum of city traffic the only sound as you stood together on the quiet street. Gojou slid his hands into his pockets, looking at you.

Outside, the air was crisp as the faint him of the city being the only sound as you stood together on the quiet street. Gojou slide his hands into his pockets, looking at you.

“Maybe we’ll run into each other again."

“Only if you’re brave enough to handle more questions.”

“Oh, I’m plenty brave. But we’ll see if you’re as good at digging as you think.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you turned to leave, throwing him a casual wave. “Goodnight, Mr. Gojou.”

“Goodnight,” he echoed, watching as you disappeared down the empty street.

In that moment he realized, he never did catch your name.

© satorulovebot 2024 please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my work.

[dayslynthesix]

max verstappen x female!oc cat mom | smau

the one max verstappen follows a instagram account where the owner just post her cats (and one dog named max)

petsbymia

liked by mirianb_, maxverstappen1, verstappen.com and others

petsbymia mirabell chilling during the break moments after she scratched me to death ☠️ anyway, she's adorable 🥰

maxverstappen1 she's adorable 🥰🥰

petsbymia she is!! what's not adorable is the scratches i have all over my arm!!

maxverstappen1 im positive she had a reason for it!

petsbymia YEAH I WENT TO PET HER!!

catlovers omg look how cute 😍

mirianb_ ohhhh she's lovely!! i miss my little partner!! 🥰🥰

ilovemycats that's a pretty nice name, i wish i have thought about it 😜

petsbymia i named her after the mirabeu haute in the monaco circuit!! it's my dad favorite part of the track

charles_leclerc your dad have great taste 👌🏻

petsbymia he's also a mercedes fan!

charles_leclerc your dad have a terrible taste

maxverstappen1 your dad have a terrible taste

gabig_ don't say nasty things about uncle!!!!

ilovemycats im ignoring the full argument... wait so you named your cat after something f1 related?? unfollowing you NOW! f1 is not even a proper sport

petsbymia i knowwww im sorry 😭

petsbymia

liked by mirianb_, maxverstappen1, verstappen.com and others

petsbymia yeah i got a black cat to name him salem even though i know how historically incoherent it is, he's pretty fucking cute though 🥰 i miss him and i think i lost him 😭😭

maxverstappen1 cute 😍 😍😍

mirianb_ okay i need to tell you now or else i think you might have a heart attack, salem is with me! i kidnapped him, sorry 😘

petsbymia OMG MIRIAN I HATE YOU I'VE BEEN CRYING FOR LIKE HOURS

maxverstappen1 i lost my cats once i can say: that's not very nice of you mirianb_

mirianb_ ok hold on for a sec... aren't you a f1 driver? MIA WHY THERE'S A F1 DRIVER IN YOU COMENTS SECTION

miamilani i mean it's not my section, it's my pets one

maxverstappen1 i saw the cats once and i thought they looked cute so i followed the profile and they're cute so sue me?

mirianb_ omg you're so cat dad coded!

catslovers forever missed salem!!

ilovemycats oh noo, mirian, how could you kidnap little salem dear???

mirianb_ in my self defense, chaos (my cat) miss his friend so i took matter with my own hands

maxverstappen1 has asked to follow miamilani

maxverstappen1 started to follow miamilani

miamilani started to follow maxverstappen1

petsbymia

liked by mirianb_, maxverstappen1, verstappen.com and others

petsbymia bath day and i can say max, salem and mirabell hated EVERY crazy second of it 🤪

maxverstappen1 why is your dog named max? 🤨🤨

petsbymia funny story, my best friend also has a collie and he's also named max so i thought it would be funny, now we have max 1 and max 2 right allycmpbll

allycmpbll it's my brother's dog but whatever to make you happy 😍😍

catlovers ok i see now why salem got you all scratched, he clearly is french and you're making him shower

petsbymia stop insulting my cat! he's not french at all, i found him near modena, hes italiano 🇮🇹🤌🏻

collielovers i mean we NEED to put all the collies together

petsbymia no, we don't! i can barely keep it up with ONE border collie

gabig_ i told you!!! i fucking told you when you decided to have a collie that you didn't have the energy for it

ilovemycats salem looks miserable 😭😭

miamilani

liked by mirianb_, maxverstappen1, verstappen.com, norarilley and others

miamilani our dogs, my cats and my best friends, love you miri, happy crazy birthday to you and i hope a bunch of cars going in circle makes you happy tomorrow

mirianb_ im so much more happy when im with you! thanks for all these years of friendship 🩷

gabig_ all of us together until the end

allycmpbll happiest bday to the most annoying person in the world

maxverstappen1 happy birthday, mirian, i feel that you don't like me but anyway

mirianb_ it's not personal mr. verstappen, im a simple mercedes girl 😎

petsbymia

liked by mirianb_, maxverstappen1, verstappen.com and others

petsbymia taking the kids to see nona (my mum) mirabell took a nap on my mom's bed, salem took my dad spot on the couch and max ate at least 15 different plants, looking forward to came back again for christmas

maxverstappen1 omg they're so cute and so adorable, im starting to think they have their mom's charm 😅

gabig_ that was supposed to be a flirt? cause god it was awful

petsbymia it was not, it was cute, my pets are as charming as i am!

mirianb_ your dad a few years ago "i don't like pets, im allergic, they're too messy", your dad today "here salem, my bed is your bed now"

petsbymia *proceds to sleep on the couch*

catslover how were you able to get the most charismatic pets in the world?

petsbymia avengers, assemble!

collielovers salem and mirabell they're VERY cute but i cant with max, he's so gentleman coded 🥹

maxverstappen1 i was about to ask whay the fuck have i eaten but my mind went back working again

charles_leclerc again? naive of you to assume your mind worked those past few months

lewishamilton your mind was literally a mud puddle

maxverstappen1 ok stop the bullying now

petsbymia yeah boys, stop the bullying ✋🏻

maxverstappen1

liked by pierregasly, redbullracing, miamilani, petsbymia and others

maxverstappen1 jimmy and sassy appreciation post 🧡🧡🧡

petsbymia mirabell and salem wants to meet jimmy and sassy 🥰

miamilani smooth!

verstappencom the most adorable ones!!

redbullracing we're waiting to see them again! 🥰

see other comments

miamilani

liked by maxverstappen1, verstappen.com, redbullracing, miriamb_ and others

miamilani so here's a funny story i don't know how i ended up here cause i was only answering a random dude on my pets profile (random dude is a formula one champion - i don't know what that means)

gabig_ mia still pretending not to know shit about motorsport when her cat is named after a part of a circuit, tsc tsc

allycmpbll years of asking you to go to interlagos with me and now you're just a gp because a random dude asked you to?

maxverstappen1 excuse me, random dude here, it was very difficult

mirianb_ is it always that loud?

petsbymia we miss you mum!

mirianb_ who's the admin on the pets account while you're away????

roscoelovescoco i also miss my dad!

maxverstappen1 i cant believe lewis got the mind to open roscoes account, search mia, search the comment and respond it, dude, weren't you supposed to be working?

lewishamilton i am working, the car, on the other way around...

miamilani OMG LEWIS HIIIII!!! IM SUCH A GREAT FAM OF YOU, OMG IM LOOKING FORWARD TO SEE YOU DRIVING A FERRARI!!!!!

user182 ok so who is she?

user713 apparently is max new girlfriend

user182 she's a cat mom i think i will like her

maxverstappen1

liked by mirianb_, miamilani, redbullracing, f1, petsbymia and others

maxverstappen1 getting out of the weekend after maxplaining all i could to a pet mom 😜

miamilani sure, whatever you say! interlagos is still better than zandvoort

redbullracing hope we got another one for the redbull army

miamilani not happening, adm, not happening!!

verstappencom 💥💥

see other comments

maxverstappen1 has added a story | miamilani has added a story

trying to teach her how to work the sim

charles_leclerc answered your story

any luck?

maxverstappen1

lol she's better than you

thanks max for letting me win (if he says i pushed him out of track hes lying 😝

maxverstappen1 has answered your story

lies!!! you pushed me wild

miamilani

boooo 😚 im better than youuu

[httpsserene]

I love your entire page, so I was thrilled to see that your requests are open. May I request a story with Daniel Ricciardo x Reader? Perhaps something where the reader is experiencing a moment of low self-esteem, comparing herself to his ex, and feeling down since they've recently started dating, yet the fans want his ex back. When Danny is dominant it makes me melt so perhaps a smut that is center on body worshipping yet leads to crazy back shots/missionary. He made you come multiple times and despite you trying to tap out , he’s not stopping anytime soon creating a big creamy mess 🫠

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊'𝖘 2𝕶 𝕾𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 | 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖊𝖑 𝕽𝖎𝖈𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖔 𝕰𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫: 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝟐

Summary: She’s the least favorite Formula One WAG. At first, she was optimistic, the fans would eventually get over it and maybe even start liking her—but she now knows that was a pretty naive thought. She’s constantly compared to Daniel’s ex-girlfriend—she’s not as pretty as her, she’s not as supportive as her, she’s not as popular as her, etc. Unfortunately, in a moment of low self-esteem—she breaks and thinks maybe the fans are right. Daniel, with a sixth sense of knowing when you’ve lost your mind, comes home and sees you gathering every belonging of yours that’s migrated to his apartment like you’re breaking up with him. He tries to change your mind with his words, but that doesn’t quite reassure you completely; so he has no choice but to do it with his actions, too. Pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!black-coded!reader (her skin is described as brown) Content Warning: 18+ only. mdni. explicit sexual content. no beta we die like men. no srs it’s barely edited. angst with a happy ending. hurt/comfort. dom/sub undertones. arguing. breaking up/making up. those three little words. attempt at humor (a lil bit). implied subspace. insecure!reader. body worship. vaginal sex. oral sex (female receiving). online hate. overstimulation. protected sex. aftercare. this is dirty, i am so sorry. Word Count: 5k words.

Author's Notes: okay it's a couple hours late, but i was hit with a little creative genius and i think you guys will really enjoy this one! and it's the longest one too! an entire five-thousand words wow. aren't you glad i added more to this masterpiece.

let me know what you think! xxxxx

prev 2k special join taglist feedback & requests table of contents next ↻

You’re trending on Twitter. No—not for one of your TikToks that you hope went viral, but under the hashtag #breakupwithherdaniel. Fans have decided to start a movement to make signs to take to the next Grand Prix, with pictures of your face posted next to that hashtag. In all of the tweets, they’re commenting on how they wished Daniel and his ex were still together, or comparing you to her, and saying that you’re toxic—you! In this situation, where none of the people online personally know you and take to bashing you on the internet; you are the toxic one! And that’s the last straw. You start packing your shit up into bags and whatever boxes you can find. A large amount of your belongings have migrated to Daniel’s apartment, even if you don’t officially live with him. You’ve been dating him for just over six months, and the entire time your relationship has been public his fans have harassed you.

They prefer his ex over you, it’s that simple. It probably doesn’t help that you’re not like one of the white models everybody thinks f1 drivers should date, but enough is enough. It didn’t bother you at first, you thought with just a little time everyone would calm down but the opposite has happened. They’ve only gotten worse and things have escalated to the point where it’s affecting your career and—you can’t take it anymore. And, maybe they’re right. Daniel doesn’t deserve to date a girl who can’t take the harsh eye of the media and fans. He’d be better off without you, and he might certainly be better off with his ex. She was there in his darkest times and his brightest successes. They ended on good terms so with a little charm, Daniel wouldn’t have a problem with getting back with her, surely. 

You’re throwing your bags on the living room couch, pulling a suitcase you left here from when you last traveled with him to throw your shoes into. And then, you hear the door open. 

Daniel’s happy voice carries to you from the entryway, “Baby, I’m home! I stopped at the store to pick up a slice of your favorite cake, because I know you’ve been needing some cheering up—”

You hear his steps halt as he sees you in the living room, bags and boxes filled to the brim with your stuff. 

“Baby?” Daniel asks, “What’s this about? This is late for it to be spring cleaning.”

You shake your head, swallowing softly as you turn to meet his eyes, “I’m leaving, Daniel.”

“What?” Daniel says confused.

“Don’t make it any more difficult than it needs to be,” you start, unable to fight back your tears any longer, “Just let me get my stuff and leave.”

Daniel rushes to you, pulling you to look at him, holding your arms still when you try to push him away from you.

“You’ve got to give me more than that. You’re leaving—why? Is it something I did? Did I say something? How long have you felt like this? I could’ve—I can fix it, baby. Don’t leave me,” Daniel pleads, his own eyes radiating how hurt, confused, and disbelieving he feels, “I thought we were strong? We’re the closest to being perfect, I thought. We barely argue; and even when we do it’s resolved properly. I don’t yell, I don’t talk to other women, I don’t ignore your calls or messages, I’m not possessive, I’m not crazy–what can I do? For you to stay, what can I do?”

“Nothing, Daniel. You can’t change my mind. But—it’s not your fault, okay? It’s me,” you cry harder when Daniel scoffs at your response, “I’m serious, Danny. It’s my fault.  I can’t take it anymore okay? You’re better off without me; I’m a distraction, I’m not as supportive as I should be, I’m not your type–you’d just perform and be happier without me, okay?”

“Fuck no,” Daniel emphasizes, “Who the hell is telling you that? Because I know you seriously don’t believe that. You’re the best thing to happen to me in my entire life, baby. You’re not a distraction, you support me tirelessly, and you sure as hell are my type. I can’t keep my hands off of you, you scold me all the time for that so, how can you say that ‘you’re not my type?’ I’m the happiest I’ve ever been with you, ask anybody, baby.”

You groan angrily, “Not anybody! Have you asked your fucking fans? They sure as hell think that I’m the devil reincarnated. I can’t do anything publicly without being verbally harassed for it. I can’t dress the way I want to, I can’t act the way I want to, and I can’t even go to work! Your little fangirls are affecting my career—and I can’t do it anymore. They’ve won. I can’t take the judgment anymore, not for me just existing. You’d be happier with your ex, just like they want you to be.”

You and Daniel stare at each other silently, the air tense. 

“What do you mean,” Daniel pauses, his jaw tightening, “What do you mean they’re affecting your career?”

“They’re threatening to fire me because of my image. They’re saying I’m smearing the company's appearance,” you sigh out, picking at your cuticles anxiously. Daniel grabs your hands, stopping you.

“I’m going to kill them, baby–”

“Daniel!” you cut him off, aghast.

“No, I don’t care,” He dismisses, “The nerve of them to convince you that you’re not good enough for me. I should’ve kept asking you if you were bothered by the negative attention, but ever since you told me that you could handle it, I never checked in. And, I failed to see that it was getting worse. Worse enough to make you think that you need to leave to escape it. I’m going to embarrass those fans publicly and I’m going to get the team to back me up. As far as your job, I always hated them anyway. I never liked how they would deny your vacation time even though you had the days—you should quit.”

You stare at him deadpan, “Daniel Ricciardo. I’m not quitting my job and I am also still leaving.”

“Mhm, no,” Daniel scoffs hysterically, “You’re not breaking up with me. And, you would have a better reason to quit, if you stayed with me. I’ll retire you and make you my trophy wife, please.  Seriously, babe. Don’t leave. I should’ve dealt with the fans earlier, I know—it’s my fault that it even reached this point. Please, just stay with me.”

“I don’t know,” you murmur, crumbling into tears again, “They all seem to think your ex is a better fit and…I think I agree with them.”

Daniel gathers you into his arms, tucking you into his shoulder, “Baby, I broke up with her for a reason. And, I’m glad I did. All of those chronically online fans have no clue about why I broke up with her. I couldn’t imagine going back into that relationship, especially now that I’ve found you. Let me prove it to you, baby.

You sob, “How are you going to prove anything to me right now? Can I just be dramatic for a little longer?”

He laughs, giddy at the sound of your usual antics, “Well, I am going to set the media on fire with the language I use to address how the world has been disrespecting you. But first, I’m going to take you to bed and remind you what you’d be missing out on if you left. What other man could learn to know you as intimately as I do, hm? C’mon, baby—let me prove it to you. Let your body decide.”

Leaning back to look at him through your tears,  you think,  fuck it, why not?

Daniel presses you into the bed; you whine out desperately when he breaks the kiss, your eyes focused on the plush warmth of his lips as you try to chase them. The eagerness of your actions only dawns on you as you see his lips shift into a smiling laugh then, the embarrassment washes over you; honestly, you think, you can’t act like you can’t live without having his lips touching yours—he might find your yearning repulsive. Did his ex act like this for him? What if that’s why he broke up with her—

“Heyheyhey—don’t hide from me, baby,” Daniel coos concerned, his hand gently coaxing you to turn your head and meet his eyes, you didn’t even notice when you moved to hide your face with the pillow; he continues, “Where’d you go just then, pretty girl? Please tell me, baby, don’t hold it in.”

You meet his troubled gaze, and the love and care you see pouring out causes fresh tears to dance across your waterline. Through your blurry sight, you see Daniel’s brow furrow saddeningly as he carefully pulls you up into a sitting position and holds you tightly as you cry into his shoulder. His left hand massages the back of your neck, and his right hand finds a calming rhythm as he rubs your back. Your tears taper out quicker, and you wonder if you’ve exhausted their supply from the crying you’ve done today.

You draw back from his embrace, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand, and your voice shakes and cracks as you begin to speak, “I’ve never been this insecure about myself. I couldn’t give a single fuck about what people say or think about me. But, today? It was just too much, Danny. Seeing all of your fans tear down every aspect of me; my personality, my looks, my body—why? And, they’re doing it under the reasoning that, I’m not good for you. Like, you’re not a grown man, who can decide who he wants to date? I support you quietly and loudly and’ll do it forever, but that’s not enough for them. And, today, it felt like it would  never be enough.

“So, when I saw them making signs, t-to…to encourage you to break up with me,” Daniel muffles a sound of hurt in his chest, “I was humiliated. I-I, didn’t want that sort of attention for you, they should be focused on your racing, not your undeserving girlfriend. And, I thought I’d make it easy for you and leave.”

“Baby, no…”

“You’re such a good boyfriend, Daniel. It would be so much easier for you to end this relationship and go back to your ex, or date some other girl that satisfies you and your fans—”

“Babe, no,” Daniel cuts you off, his tone hardened, “The only person that needs to be satisfied with you is me. And, I am. The opinions of those fucking idiots don’t matter to me, and they shouldn’t matter to you. Because that’s all they are: opinions, and they’re absolutely stupid opinions, at that. They’re comments have done the complete opposite of convincing me to leave you. They’ve shown me that I need to let you know how much I want you with me—they’ve made me realize that I need to let you know that I love you.”

Your eyes widen, your breath stuttering. It’s the first time, he’s said it.  Daniel loves you.

Sobbing softly, you murmur, “I hope you’re not only saying those three words because you think it’s going to make me happy. Because, I do love you, too.”

Daniel laughs wetly. “I’m saying that I love you now because you need to know that. I would’ve preferred to say it under different circumstances but, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m ridiculously in love with you. And—fuck everybody who’s saying you’re not good enough for me. If anything, I’m not good enough for you. I haven’t even won you a trophy, yet.”

You stare at him in disbelief, “Shut the fuck up. You’re everything to me. You could be driving the slowest car on the grid and I would still be celebrating your last-place finishes like you’ve won the championship.”

Daniel stares at you silently and you nearly fear that you’ve broken him. He sighs out lovingly before, leaning down and pressing kisses across your entire face to wash away your tear tracks. He finishes with a barely there kiss to the tip of your nose and asks quietly, “Let me show you that I love you. I don’t think saying it is enough.”

You look at him. You find what you’re looking for because you agree, “Okay.”

Daniel perks up, “Okay?”

You nod, slowly sliding down to rest on your back against the bed like you were before. “Yes.”

Your boyfriend shifts to kneel in between your legs, his hands slipping beneath the hem of your sweater, and once he gets confirmation from you, he smoothly pulls it off of you, dropping it off the bedside. His hands spread across the expanse of your abdomen and move to rest on your waist as he buries himself in the length of your neck. He nips kisses and presses of tongue along your brown skin, surprising you often with the ache of teeth and suction to bloom bruises. When he slides downwards, he paints your collarbone and decolletage loosely, the irritated flesh only sends flares of pleasure across your nerves. Daniel huffs in frustration as the straps of your bra disrupt the smooth skin across your shoulders, and he pulls you upwards to arch into him as he slips his hand underneath to unclasp the closure. You’re brain comes online to help him remove the offending fabric as you shrug out of the straps and desperately fling the bra to a corner of the room you can’t care to look at.

Daniel hums thankfully and resumes tracing along your shoulder, down your arms, and to the bones of your wrists and tips of your fingers with gentle hands followed by his lips. 

He swallows before speaking, “Whenever you’re splayed out so prettily underneath me, I forget how to act. The cloudy look in your eyes, your chest covered with my love, the muscles in your shoulders and arms relaxed and syrupy—so fuckin’ sexy, baby.”

You can’t find the words to respond to him because your entire body sings out when Daniel’s lips suction around your nipple. You feel his tongue swirl around, wetting it before his teeth join in and scrape softly against the sensitive bud. He releases you and even though your eyelids have fluttered shut at the feeling, you feel him watching you as your back rises off the bed and your head falls back. His hand finds its place right underneath your breasts, and he pushes you back down into the mattress and holds you there as he continues the assault of his lips on your chest. You can only cry out with every tug of his teeth, every suckle of his lips on the surrounding skin, whimpers choked down as his mouth ravages you entirely. Your hand flies to Daniel’s hair for purchase, and to press his head further into your chest, but he pulls away.

“Forgive me—but I love your chest, baby. I love how you let me take naps on them and play with my hair, I love the feeling of them in my hand, I love making you scream every time I play with them. And, you taught me that the only answer to ass versus boobs is both of them. Because, I would willingly suffocate in either of them, and all of you.”

Your chest heaves as you try to regain some air in your lungs, but Daniel doesn’t let you breathe for a second, “One day, I hope you let me fuck your pretty chest.”

Your mouth drops open, as you flounder for the air and words required to respond to his statement.

“Another time, though. May I take off your pants, baby? I  need to fuck you.”

“Yesyes—please, hurry up,” you rush out, already moving to shimmy out of your bottoms, Daniel tugging them off roughly when they get caught around your ankles. The strength he uses slides you down the bed a little, and you can’t help but muffle a gasp underneath your hand. 

He pulls your hand from your mouth in an instant, “No. Not tonight. I let you get away with hiding your sounds from me before, but I need to know how good I’m making you feel,” he pauses to press a kiss to the inside of your wrist and continues, “Be as loud as you want, love.”

You nod jerkily, and Daniel lowers your arm to rest against the bed carefully, before he shuffles down the bed, resting on his stomach and spreading your legs to drape along his shoulders. He starts with your right leg; nipping at the bone of your ankle before following with a soothing touch of his lips, and moving upwards, biting and kissing along the muscles of your calf, the inside of your knee. He slows when he reaches the plush meet of your thigh, taking his time biting the muscle and laving over the teeth marks he leaves with his tongue. He repeats the treatment along your left leg, ignoring how he can see the wetness dripping out of you, darkening the fabric of your panties. 

“Love your legs, baby,” Daniel breaths shakily, “Calves, and thighs, muscle, and all plush skin. If I could choose how to go out, it would be in between them. Doesn’t matter if they’re around my waist, or my head—it’s fucking paradise, baby.”

Your thighs shudder as if they’ve heard his words, and Daniel notices immediately. His hands move to grasp them and let his thumbs dig into the fresh marks he’s added against your brown skin. You keen airily, your thighs attempting to shut, but Daniel’s hands keep you spread with little effort. He leans down and hides his smile by pressing his mouth to your panties. He proceeds to noisily kiss along your covered cunt, dragging his tongue and nose through the soaked fabric, humming amusedly when your hips buck down onto him, one of his hands shifting to press your pelvis to the mattress.

You’re mortified. Daniel’s pretty much making out with your cunt over your panties, and he seems to be enjoying it as much as you if the way his hips are rocking along the bed is any telling when you raise your head to stare down at him. His eyes shut as he loses himself between your legs; he looks blissed out and you drop your head back against the mattress, bringing your hand to tangle in the mess of his curls. He pulls away with a grunt and you tug at his hair annoyed, sitting up slightly to see what he stopped for—

His eyes are wild, drenched with lust. Daniel doesn’t waste time pulling your panties off, roughly tugging the fabric covering your cunt to the side, tucking it in the dip between your groin and thigh. You see his eyes roll back slightly at the sight of you before he shuts them and dives forward to bring his mouth down on your cunt. His tongue pushes inside of you sloppily and his nose makes sure your clit is always receiving attention. The only option you have is to choke on your moans and grasp for stability in his hair and the sheets of the bed. Your tummy undulates at the pleasure racketing up your spinal cord, it’s too much to process already. And in a split-second, Daniel’s tongue is exchanged for two of his fingers, your cunt thoroughly soaked with a mix of your wetness and his spit, and the stretch is mild, more of a welcomed soreness than pain. Daniel’s eyes open to watch your face closely, you’re too busy moaning to verbally assure him to continue, but he understands (the continuous desperate roll of your hips against his grasp is a helpful clue). 

He massages his fingers into you rapidly, brushing along the sensitive wall along the top of your cunt—and it dawns on you very quickly that you are going to cum. He must see the realization wash over your face, or through the signs of your body, but he avoids your g-spot to scissor his fingers inside of you to stretch you out, a third joining the rest when you huff down at him angrily. The new stretch quiets you, loud whines and moans hushed for a moment as you savor the ache. Yet, you quickly hunger for more, unapproving of the sudden gentleness Daniel exhibits.

“Danny, please,” you cry, “C’mon—fuck me, already. ‘m gonna cum.”

He pulls his fingers from the grasp of your vagina and manhandles you onto your front, stomach flat against the bed. With firm hands, he pulls your hips upwards, one hand sliding down your back to deepen the arch and push your ass further out. The insecurity and shyness you had earlier have dissipated; you’d like to be fucked, now. You spread your knees wider and rock back even more.

“Fuck,” Daniel croaks out, and he rushes to grab a condom from the nightstand. You’re sure he’s relatively quick about the entire ordeal; of losing his pants, grabbing the condom, and rolling it on himself, but it feels like ages, and you can’t help but huff out angrily. Thankfully, you feel his left hand come back to rest on your ass and feel the head of his cock tap along your cunt. 

Your hole parts for him prettily and Daniel sinks in smoothly, not stopping until your ass meets his hips. You whine softly, the ache of him finding a home within you will never lose its luster. Daniel shudders behind you, the grip of his hand on your ass shaking—his breathing heavy as it echoes around the room. 

“Fuck,” Daniel moans again, “Love your cunt, pretty girl. Hot, wet, and tight,” he falls forward, and nuzzles into the hair at the nape of your neck, before pressing a kiss at the back of your neck, and rising again, “‘s so good…I-I can’t find the words right now.”

You giggle softly into the bed and Daniel takes the green light when you press back against him. He begins to thrust into you, hard enough to punch the breath out of your lungs. He’s never fucked you this forcefully before; his motions are erratic, yet somehow he’s nailing the spot inside of you with every other pass of his hips. The sound of your skin meeting manages to be hidden by the screams and moans you manage to release when you find enough air in your lungs. Daniel’s other hand wraps around your front and presses down on your pelvis, tightening your inner walls. And, your vision whites out.

Your legs give out and you feel yourself slouch into the mattress, but Daniel is quick to hold your hips up for you and continues to rail into you, not allowing you any respite. You can hear yourself babbling, but you can’t make out what you’re saying. The heat of Daniel’s chest radiates over your back and you feel his breath wash over your spine, his endearments and praise you hear but can’t understand as the pleasure has blinded your senses. What you can feel, is how his thrusts continue and don’t slow. 

You regain control of your body when he rotates you onto your back, he only pulls out briefly while he grabs a pillow to shove underneath your hips before he falls back inside of you. At this angle, Daniel feels larger than life, knocking against buttons inside of you you’re sure he’s only ever discovered. It’s too much. He fucks into you slowly, the press of his cock slow but strong, the motion pushing you up the bed slightly.

You gasp, moans erupting out of you when you attempt to speak. You manage to keep your eyes open long enough to look at Daniel and see the pleased smile on his face. He moves one hand from your hip to cradle your cheek and swipes a tear that escaped from the corner of your eye away. 

“Oh,” Daniel hushes you softly, “Gone for me already, aren’t you?”

“T-t-oo much,” you stutter, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth, “ feels s’good.”

He chuckles quietly, the noise fading into a moan as your cunt clenches around him, “Too much or it feels good, pretty girl? You’re going to have to pick one.”

Daniel’s thrusts get rougher, and he stops pulling out nearly all the way and focuses on digging into you deeper; making sure to drag himself along that place inside you with every thrust. Your scream breaks as soon as it leaves your mouth, the unyielding stimulation feels white hot. You take a shaky hand and drag it down Daniel’s chest, from his tattoos to his abdomen, and push against him while simultaneously trying to raise your hips away from his.

“No, baby,” Daniel coos down at you, knocking your hand away from his abs, and continuing to press inside of you, pulling your hips down, “Don’t run from me. Take it. You know what to say if it’s too much for you.”

You do know what to say. But, the knot inside your tummy starts tightening again, and the overwhelming amount of pleasure isn’t too much. You can take it. Daniel rocks down to kiss you, but you’re too out of it to exactly figure out how to make your lips work, and his eyes shine. He moves to bite at your neck, you feel him speaking against your skin and it takes a few listens to realize he saying, “I love you,” over and over again. His thrusts get choppier and you know he’s close when his hand slips down to play with your clit. This orgasm feels different than the first. It feels like it burns your nerve endings with just how powerfully pleasurable it is. You can vaguely feel Daniel collapse against you as he rides out his climax, but you’re more concerned with the absolute ecstasy you find yourself floating in.

You blink a few times and you fail to adequately process what’s going on around you. You feel Daniel pull out of you, rubbing soothingly along your hips and thighs as he massages any soreness away. You can’t make out his words, but they sound warm and loving making you feel light and fluffy. You don’t recall him moving from the bed, but he suddenly has a warm rag pressed against your inner thighs to clean you up, and your ruined panties are gone. When he tries to wipe against your cunt, you slam your legs shut, jerking away from him. He doesn’t force your legs back open, but he eventually manages to clean up enough of your wetness that he’s comfortable to wait until you’re clear-minded. 

Daniel pulls you onto his lap and continues murmuring words of affection into the air, you feel them vibrate through his chest. You begin to rise out of whatever state you were in and shift in his lap, “Danny,” you try to speak, but your voice cracks roughly. He’s quick to grab a bottle of water on the nightstand and opens it for you, helping you drink as your arms are still too shaky. 

“When did you grab the water?” you question softly, you down nearly the entire bottle, and move to snuggle back into his chest, bringing your shaky hand up to trace his tattoos. 

“You don’t remember?” Daniel questions calmly, watching as you shake your head in dissent, “I think you were a little out of it after that orgasm. You melted into the bed—I couldn’t get you to say anything.”

“Oh,” you offer, looking up at him to read his face. You find nothing but love, so you figure it can’t be a bad thing.

“Do you know what subspace is?”

“No?”

Daniel nods understandingly and changes the subject, “I got this piece of cake for you earlier at the store. Can you eat it for me now and drink a little more water, baby? I’ll put on that crime show you like too.”

You agree to eat and drink as long as Daniel does too. Your hand shakes as you try to bring the fork to your mouth so you let Daniel feed you, he seems more than happy to do it for you. You kind of like it anyway, him taking care of you. You feel like your normal self halfway through the second episode of the show playing on the TV. You slide off of Daniel’s lap to sit beside him and focus on the show, pulling the blanket up to cover your legs, the plot of the show finally being processed by your brain.

“I’m going to go grab something from the living room, okay?” Daniel checks in on you, waiting for you to answer affirmatively, “Finish up that cake for me, love.”

You hum, grabbing the container from him and continuing to munch along as Daniel does what he needs to. He reenters the room with one of the boxes you had packed away. Daniel doesn’t look at you, he just opens up the box and starts putting all your belongings back to where they used to be. He pulls one of your heavier sweaters out of the box and moves to hang it up in the closet.

“No,” you say, voice scratchy. You watch Daniel turn to face you slowly like he thinks you’re going to tell him that you’re still leaving, 

“That sweater doesn’t belong in the closet. It gets folded and placed in the bottom row of the dresser.”

Daniel sighs relieved and smiles at you, “Okay. What about this one too, where does that go?”

taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorrari @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz @vetteltea @tallrock35 @iloveyou3000morgan @smartstupyd @spideybv28 @lh383 @loomiscorpse @hiireadstuff @namgification @gg-trini @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @multi-fandom-rando @sweatrevenge5436-blog @bokutos-babyowl @oliviah-25 @landoslutmeout @love-simon

© httpsserene 2023

[golden-moony]

king of my heart | smau

pairings: lando norris x fem!reader | pato o'ward x fem!reader

summary: y/n is an F1 content creator loved among the grid and the fans, and more than one person ships her with lando due to how close they've always been. but when y/n goes to her first IndyCar race, the last thing she expects is being involved in rumours with another mclaren driver.

warnings: love triangle? kinda.

author's note: i might turn this into a mini series but i'll see how it goes. btw english it's not my first language so if there's any grammatical error please let me know so i can fix it, ty🧡 now enjoy!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

------------------------------------------------------

yourusername posted to their story!

[caption 1; it's indycar weekend in Long Beach, babyyyy!] [caption 2; time for practice and snacks🌞]

patriciooward

liked by indycar, zbrownceo, yourusername, and 83,527 others!

patriciooward INDY500 colors and back in the streeetz🤩

user1 lookin' goooood🔥

arrowmclaren it'll look even better with confetti covering it😉 user2 admin knows a win is coming!! 💪

user3 Este es tu año, cabrón! VAMOOOOS 🇲🇽

user4 is it a requirement to be handsome to drive in mclaren? cause daaaamn

user5 same girl, same

yourusername black is the new papaya fr 🔥 can't wait for tomorrow!

patriciooward hopefully you'll be wearing #5 user6 OMG?!?!!!??? yourusername can't show favoritism! i'm a professional, sir patriciooward it can be our secret then 😉 user7 OH MY- HELLOOOOO? user8 landonorris come get your girl bro!!! user9 omfg mr o'ward i wasn't familiar with your game user10 y/n sweety, wrong mclaren driver landonorris 🤨 user11 she really said i want a mclaren, don't care which one😭 user12 and she's so real for that

user13 let's goooo Pato!! 🦆🧡

user14 y/n and pato's exchange?? NEW SHIP HAS ARRIVED!

user15 i feel like i'm betraying my roots but pato and y/n would be the it couple fr user16 SO TRUE user17 pato and lando deserve sooo much better.

user18 NOT LANDO REPLYING TO THE COMMENT 😂😂

user19 f1twt is about to have a blast with this one 🍿 user20 they already have #teampato and #teamlando hashtags going on 😭😭

yourusername posted to their story!

[caption 1; preparation for ✨qualy day✨] [caption 2; that's how you arrive in style]

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, alexanderrossi, shelovesformula1, and 76,088 others!

yourusername First IndyCar race ✅ can't explain how incredible this weekend was! I’ve had the pleasure of chatting to so many cool people, discovering so much about this series and meeting so many of you! 🧡 can't wait to show you everything soon 😘

user1 what a babeeeee 😍

frosenqvist so great to meet you! hope you come to another one again soon! 🏁

arrowmclaren we second this! user2 she's an indy girl now 😎 tkanaan especially after all the fun we had last night😜 yourusername oh i'll definitely come back for more races (and parties ofc🙊) user3 she's part of the family now! love to see it user4 mclaren team 🤝 us: being in love with y/n

user5 PATO INTERVIEW??!! WE WON

lissiemackintosh so happy to have met you!! 💖

yourusername can't wait to see u again 🥹 user6 MY FAVES ��🤩 user7 girls supporting girls 💞 user8 we need a colab!

landonorris y/n get out of there. That's not your family!

carlossainz55 y/n please hurry, the kid has missed you maxverstappen1 y/n please hurry, we can't stand him anymore maxfewtrell y/n please hurry, he gets whiny when you're not around alex_albon y/n please hurry, oscar is about to commit crime oscarpiastri that is correct, so please y/n hurry landonorris when i asked y'all to back me up, this is NOT what i meant 🙄 yourusername if it helps at all, i've miss you all 🫶 (except Lando) landonorris i hate y'all fr user9 this is the kind of content i pay my internet bill for 😂

user10 literal queen 👑

user11 she couldn't become lando's wag so now she goes to indy to try to find a man lol such a clout chaser

user12 girl stfu she's literally just doin her job user13 try not to sound so bitter next time 💋 user14 get a life, hater

user15 MOTHER IS MOTHERING

user16 i don't think we're talking enough about that last photo

user17 RIGHT?! Y/N X PATO LET'S GOO user18 nah y/n x lando >>>>>>>>

patooward Indy looks good on you 💯 i wonder who took that amazing first pic

yourusername credits to you, amateur😘 user19 you can't convince me they're not flirting user20 i truly don't know if i wanna be pato or y/n... i only know i'd hate to be lando rn 😭 user21 y/n and lando are the endgame user22 Y/N X PATO TILL THE END

landonorris posted to his story!

[caption; safe and sound where she belongs]

sooo.... y'all want part 2?

[verstappen-cult]

HOW YOU GET THE GIRL | CL16

— 05. THE END

PREV. PART — [ SERIES MASTERLIST ]

summary: in which charles has an embarrassing crush on alex's childhood best friend and everyone meddles. content warnings: faceclaim is taylor hill but you can picture her as you’d like!

INSTAGRAM STORIES

INSTAGRAM POST

Liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc and 567,954 others

yourusername 🥂🌅🍋⛱️

view all 8,763 comments

user48 she's so hot i don't know if i wanna be her

zendaya prettiest girl in the world.

user49 is she with charles??

user50 her life doesn't revolve around charles.

user51 im pretty sure she's with charles.

user52 i actually saw a picture going around tw of her and charles like a day ago? so maybe they're spending summer break together user53 a fan ran into charles today in monaco so i don't think they're tgt

francisa.cgomes whoever told you to buy that bikini has excellent taste

yourusername i might kiss that person pierregasly HEY! that's my girlfriend you know. yourusername she wants ME

user54 what is charles doing in the likes

user55 yk sometime people like other people posts. user56 and they're dating so it's pretty normal user54 some people still act surprised lol

alex_albon you look pretty good (i was forced to comment) ((i'm held at gunpoint))

user57 she could be a model

user58 but she chose to follow charles like a dog user59 what is wrong with you people? you hate her just because she's dating your favorite driver. pathetic. user60 and she IS a model btw

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Liked by landonorris, georgerussell63 and 768,998 others

oscarpiastri We had to leave the others behind. Sacrificies were made.

tagged: danielricciardo, yourusername.

view all 10,862 comments

landonorris WHY DIDN'T YOU TAKE ME?

user61 wait. are they spending summer break together?

user62 girl have you been living under a rock? everyone's spending summer break with everyone. go check twitter.

lilymhe bring me ice cream :(

user63 im having a panic attack

user64 i may never recover

user65 THE 813 WE NEVER KNEW WE NEEDED

charles_leclerc where did you take my girlfriend?

danielricciardo pay us or you'll never see her again. oscarpiastri We'll throw her into the ocean. yourusername WHAT THE F

user66 OMG MY TWO WORLDS COLLIDING

georgerussell63 We're going to leave without you.

carmenmundt No, we are not. georgerussell63 Yes, ma'am 🫡

user67 I CAN'T BELIEVE THEY'RE ALL TGT I'M GOING TO CRY

user68 no one was ready for this

INSTAGRAM STORIES

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charles_leclerc 🌊🗺️🤚🥥

view all 8,776 comments

yourusername who's that handsome boy. 👀

user69 summer break is looking good

user70 screaming crying throwing up i can't do this anymore

maxverstappen1 No pic credits? I put my life in danger for you.

user71 Y/N'S COMMENT OMG

user72 my parents

user73 i want him so bad

user74 i need them to confirm their relationship

user75 i mean it's confirmed they're dating, charles called her his gf in oscar's most recent post user76 WHAT user75 idk why people need them to 'confirm' they just don't want to user76 she's been receiving sm hate online i understand if they wanna keep it a little more private

user78 STAY CALM EVERYBODY STAY CALM

user79 one chance thats all i ask

arthur_leclerc thanks for (not) inviting me

charles_leclerc adults only 🤪 pierregasly i told him to invite you charles_leclerc no you didn't stfu

user80 I FEEL BLESSED

TWITTER

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Liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc and 9,872 others

charles_leclerc As Taylor Swift once said... love you to the moon and to saturn.

tagged: yourusername.

view all 15,846 comments

user81 I CAN'T TAKE THIS SHIT ITS TOO EARLY

user82 i'm sleeping on the highway tonight

yourusername as taylor swift once said... you are the best thing that's ever been mine. 🖤

charles_leclerc should we kiss now? yourusername i see you making eyes at me from across the room. landonorris there are children on this app

alex_albon fucking finally!

yourusername stfu

user83 MY PARENTS

pierregasly you can finally stop whining. 🙄

user84 THIS IS TOO CUTE

user85 oh my god they finally confirmed it

maxverstappen1 It was all thanks to me, you're welcome.

alex_albon it was thanks to me?? what are you on about maxverstappen1 If I hadn't threaten to punch him, he wouldn't have made things right. alex_albon I introduced them! yourusername no you didn't, you abandoned me and that's how i met charlie. alex_albon SEE?! THANKS TO ME

user86 con 😭 gra 😭 tu 😭 lations 😭

oscarpiastri Can you adopt me now?

olliebearman get in line landonorris i'm their first born child gtfo

georgerussell63 So happy for you! Can you get out of the room now, we want to eat.

danielricciardo they aren't getting out of that room😏

user87 AND WITH TAYLOR SWIFT'S LYRICS

user88 when is it my turn????

TAGLIST (bold means i couldn’t tag you) — @leclerc16s. @willowpains. @berrnuu. @minkyungseokie. @1655clean. @sassyheroneckgiant. @nessacarty1. @a1leexxa. @storminacloud. @lovstappen. @littlehoneyfreak. @paintedbypoetry. @miakat9. @scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir. @thatoneembarrasingmoment. @lyrasconstellation. @rhythmstars. @c-losur3. @apolloxxivmin. @janeholt3. @lovrsm. @gulphulp. @thecubanator2. @dark-night-sky-99. @ssprayberrythings.

note: oh my god, i'm so sorry it took me this long to finish this but here you have the final chapter. i'm not good with series but i did my best. hope you liked it!🤍

[its-avalon-08]

hey can you write that Carlos Sainz is his wife Y/N (she is also Spanish) are nicknamed the couple the funny ones in the paddock because they often play pranks on each other on TikTok and they often tease each other because they have the same personality as it's their humor and that they are both tactile

glitter and lucky socks

the air in imola crackled with nervous energy, race day for the emilia romagna grand prix. but amidst the tension, a familiar giggle echoed through the ferrari garage. there, carlos sainz, in his pristine red race suit, was doubled over, socks clutched in his hand.

"no, no, no!" he wheezed, laughing so hard he was struggling to breathe. "that can't be real! y/n, you didn't!"

across the garage, you, his ever-playful wife, smirked, phone in hand. "y/n! you dyed my lucky socks pink?" carlos' voice, laced with mock horror, reached your ears.

you winked, feigning innocence. "what socks, cariño? i haven't seen any pink socks around."

carlos knew that look. it was the same mischievous glint he saw reflected back in his own eyes every time he'd snuck toothpaste into your shampoo or replaced your coffee with a peppermint smoothie (much to your initial disgust since you hated it, but ultimate amusement).

"oh, come on," he whined, getting up and moving to grab you from your waist. "mi amor ¿por qué debes burlarte de mí? (my love why must you tease me?). y/n still holding up her phone, to record her shenanigans, had small tears in her eyes following her husband's reaction. after posting the tiktok the caption read: 'sending some extra luck to my favorite driver (don't worry, they're his backup pair) #f1 #pranksforsainz #losdivertidos

the video had already blown up, with comments like "y/n is savage" and "carlos, your wife is a menace!" erupting like virtual popcorn.

charles leclerc, carlos' teammate, strolled by, phone in hand. he glanced at the video, then at carlos' pink-socked foot, and burst out laughing. "mate, you're doomed!"

carlos groaned, but a smile tugged at his lips. you two were known in the paddock as 'the funny ones'. your constant pranks, playful teasing, and the undeniable fact that you seemed to share the same mischievous personality – it was all part of your humor, your way of showing affection. as charles saw the way carlos and y/n looked at eachother he chuckled as he remembered the times carlos had put a whoopie pillow down on y/n's chair infront of the ceo of ferrari much to her horror or how y/n had replaced carlos's hair gel with glitter. the two were madly in love and in such a serious world, they still found time to be human.

charles continued to recall how carlos would always hold you in anyway he could, how he would grasp on to your pinky finger in a crowd, how y/n would always hug carlos from behind, the way carlos and y/n's hand were permanently intertwined. amidst all the pranks and jokes, the couple knew each other inside and out.

later, after the race (which carlos, miraculously, managed to win, pink socks and all), you found him in the pits, a towel draped over his shoulders.

"so," you said, leaning in for a kiss that left him breathless, "about that luck i sent your way..."

carlos chuckled, pulling you into a hug. "you're lucky i love you," he mumbled against your hair.

"and you're lucky i put the real socks back in your bag before you left for the grid," you whispered, earning a playful shove that sent you both into another fit of laughter.

as mechanics swarmed around them, celebrating the win, charles shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. there they go again, he thought. those two are a riot. but then he saw you plant a big, lipstick-stained kiss on carlos' cheek, and a warmth spread through him. maybe a little paddock romance wasn't such a bad thing after all.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

well i hope you liked it! thank you for sending in your request and do send more <3 happy reading! 🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

[c0ld0utside]

Summer Camp Slasher

Shoutout to @foundfamyanderes for the idea in this post here

Keeping this short! Might go more in-detail if I make another part. 

Warnings: Mentions of bullying, Reader almost drowned, Character death, violence, Gore, Chasing, Reader gets injured, Rushed fic

You hated Summer Camp. Hated it since you were ten years old and was finally able to piece together that you were here because Mom and Dad didn't want to bother with you over the summer. Hated it since the girls in your group and the older ones started disliking you for being close with one of the popular boys; Travis. 

Travis was your rock through it all. He was the first person you met when you started going to camp at six years old. He was thirteen then- a fellow camper and one of the favorites. A natural leader. A nice kid who could befriend everyone. Nonjudgmental to the kids who had a rough time. A kid who loved summer camp so much he came back as one of the counselors. A rare find in times like these. Though there was a negative to his charm. 

You’ve seen it enough time at school; girls desperate for attention and popularity. The lows they’d go to over a boy. The shade and rumors that’d be thrown around. “It’s crazy,” you had told him when you were fourteen. “How did you deal with all of it? Or- well, deal with it. That Naomi chick practically froths at the mouth when she sees you.” Travis had snorted then. “To be honest…I don’t know. It makes me just as uncomfortable…remember that one year with that Deseray girl? Don’t get me wrong, I love taking care of kids but I have never been happier to know she wouldn’t be coming back.” He says, fiddling with the bracelet you gifted him when you were seven. You had made it during arts and crafts after learning one of his favorite animals were turtles- letter beads spelling out “U-R-A” with a star and turtle charm. 

Ugh, you remembered her- the girl who watched with her friends as your kayak tipped over and nearly let you drown. You had nightmares for weeks- hearing the muffled laughter under the water. Had it not been for Travis, you would’ve died. It was satisfying watching her burst into tears as he chewed her out (it was the first time you heard him yell, too) and wrap you up in a towel. It was a miracle you came back this year (It wasn’t, your parents made you come back anyway).

This year was the breaking point. Especially when one of your bullies, Layla, was found dead, an axe buried in her back and one of her legs chopped clean off. …The leg was found in her friend Isabella’s bed. All of you found that out when she woke up screaming. Which was joined by the rest of the girls in her cabin. Immediately the blame went to you- but Travis, ever the angel, shut those ideas down. “ [Name]’s group cabin is on the other side of the camp. The tool shed isn’t accessible to someone without a key and that key is kept in the office.” 

At first your torment got worse, the girls calling you a murderer and obviously following you around, trying to “catch you in the act.” They freaked out when you were at least eight feet away from them and left “gifts” on your bed. Landon, Isabella’s boyfriend, was found floating in the water, tied up, gagged, and thrown out into the lake the night after you came back to deer droppings. Arianna was found with the back of a hammer lodged into the side of her head after your clothes were dumped into the same lake. That was the last straw (for some reason. It should’ve been the last straw when Layla died) and the camp leader, Mr. Madden, told the rest of the kids to pack up their things. A bus would be coming to bring them all home. 

At least, that was the plan. Halfway through backing the driver was found with a stab wound and slumped against the driving wheel. The tires had been slashed as well- the loud noise drawing you and the other camper’s attention. The phone line had been cut in the office, so you and Naomi went to grab the mobile phones in the small office safe. 

You stuck the key into the lock, twisting as Naomi stood by the door. “Can you hurry up? This is freaking me out,” she says, a twinge of fear in her tone. “I am also freaking out in case you haven’t noticed,” you shot back. “Look- my hands are shaking.” Naomi scoffed. “So are mine, you’re not specia-” Her words turned into a scream when she was harshly pulled out of the room. 

“NAOMI!” Abandoning the phones and shifting the key around in your hand, you rushed out to the hall. It was all so quick- a masked man in a dark blue hoodie plunging a machete into Naomi’s stomach as she clawed at his shoulders, trying to push him away. Blood splattered onto the wooden floor and in an instant you were moving, stabbing the key into the attacker’s shoulder. 

With a grunt, he shoved you to the ground, masked face staring down at yours. A cartoony, toothy smile was drawn on it, black circles around the small eyeholes. Naomi whimpered and sobbed in pain on the floor, the stranger looking at her over his shoulder. You shoot upward for a messy takedown and instead he grabs you by the collar of your shirt. Your gaze flicks to his wrist and your heart sinks.

He’s wearing Travis’ bracelets. The ones you made for him over the years. All of them. Had he killed him and taken them to taunt you? Why you? What did you do to deserve this?!

“You weren’t supposed to see,” he murmurs softly, voice unrecognizable. Pushing you back, he opens the door to one of the closets and shoves you inside, slamming the door shut afterward. “NO!” You shout rushing over to the door and throwing it open. 

It’s too late. The killer has the blade stabbed through Naomi’s cheek and is kneeling over her. All she can do is scream as he pulls it out. “Quit. Moving.” He growls, stabbing it through her head. Blood flies and splatters everywhere, getting on his mask, clothes, the wall, and the floor. “Good girl…ah- I told you not to look!” The man snaps, voice muffled by the mask. 

…His voice…

“Travis?”  

“See? I told you. You’re smart.” He says sadly, getting up from his kneeling position. He lets the blade fall from his gloved hands- black latex gloves from the kitchen- and begins to walk over to you with his hands to his sides. He tsks when you back away. 

“You don’t need to be scared, [Name]. I’m doing this all for you!” He explains. “...And a little for myself. Whew, she was annoying. It’s okay, though. I’d never hurt you. After all,” He holds up his wrist, holding it out to you. The very first one is the one you made him recently. “B-I-G-B-R-O” in the largest letter beads you could find- a mix of cubes and spheres decorated with green, blue, and yellow beads. “I’m your older brother, am I not?”

“Why?” You choke out, taking another step back. “Oh come on, bud! You and I both know your parents don’t care about you. I do, though! Who kept in touch with you online? Who reminded you to drink water and eat? Who stayed up late with you on a call to help you fall asleep? Who helped you with your homework? I’m not complaining, by the way. I loved doing that with you and I still do because I love you!” Travis rambled, moving closer and closer. You reach the door and grab the handle.

“[Name], don’t do it.” He warns, tone dropping. “I’ll be disappointed if you do.” Travis sighs as you throw the door open and book it into the night. “Alright. We’re doing this, then.”

-

You don’t look back. If you look back you might see him and looking back will slow you down. The path is getting harder to follow, narrowing out as it reaches the end. Maybe you should go off of it? Maybe Travis got tired. You hope that’s the case. …Though it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Heading off of the path, you push your way into the trees and through the greenery. You hiss whenever a thorn or low hanging branch scrapes against your arms, leaving ugly red lines and small dots of blood. It goes on for a while- pushing, pulling snagged clothing free, stumbling on rocks or awkward dips in the ground…the grass is long and it gets harder to see the forest floor. What if you get lost-

CLANG!

You don’t want to look down. You can feel something warm and wet soaking your sock. Don’t look down. Your gaze shifts downward, anyway. A bear trap is snapped shut around your foot, blood already starting to stain your shoe. It clicks in your head and the pain is quick to come.

A choked scream leaves you as you try to kneel down, the pain worsening and flaring. Hot tears fill your eyes as you desperately try to open the trap, wincing and crying out in agony all the while. Your chest feels tight yet it heaves like it’s weightless. Someone’s screaming your name, heavy footsteps getting closer as they force themself through the greenery.

“[Name]?! Oh, shit!”

They hurry over to your front, pulling down their hood and throwing their mask off. “Hey, hey hey shh, shh you’re okay, you’re okay, I’m here now.” They soothe, hands hovering in the air. “Don’t look at it, bud. Look at me, please. Look at me.” You force your gaze up to the person.

Travis gives you a weak smile. “Hey, bud. There you are. What did I tell you about going off the trail?” Sniffling, you speak. “N-not to do it.” He nods. “Mhm. Not to do it. I didn’t mean to scare you so bad. Now look where we’re at, hm?” Travis lets out a sigh.

“I’m gonna pry it open, okay?” Travs says, frowning at the whimper you let out. “I know bud, I know. Hurts bad, doesn’t it? That’s why we gotta do this. Take a deep breath and breathe out on ‘three,’ okay?” You give him a small nod and he grabs the sides of the trap. “Breathe in.”

Travis watches you take in a deep breath. “Good. Ready? …One!” He roughly pulls the trap open, earning a startled cry from you. “Travis-” you sob out. “Sorry, sorry,” he mumbles, pulling your leg out of the trap and setting it aside. Pulling off his sweater, he rips off one of the sleeves and ties it around your bleeding ankle. “You’re lucky it wasn’t one of the bigger traps. We’d have to cut your foot off.” He grumbles, scooting closer to scoop you up into his arms. 

“It’s definitely broken,” Travis announces, “but no worries. We’ll get you all fixed up at home, okay?” Home? Was he seriously bringing you back to your actual home? Your parents would freak out! What was he-

“Not your home. Our home. The one I made for us. Well, I bought it and made some changes. I’m a little hurt you didn’t tell me this would be your last year,” Travis rambled. “I heard you telling Mr. McCarthy in the office when you arrived. Don’t worry, we’ll talk about it later. This is more important right now.”

“Oh- are you falling asleep? Don’t do that [Name], stay with me please…”

…

When you wake up, you’re in a new home, in a clean room with your big brother holding a breakfast tray. 

“Rise and shine,” He croons. “Welcome home.”

Aggh sorry everyone I hoped to get this done sooner and flesh it out better but alas school started and takes up the majority of my day. Maybe I'll rewrite it. Remember to drink water and be kind to yourselves!

[bisexual-kane]

So, some insight about why so many older dudes on Reddit and such viscerally hate the Young Bucks is that the Young Bucks make them feel stupid and uncool.

Like, even as late as the 1990s, even when wrestling was the most popular thing during the Monday Night Wars and the Attitude Era, you would still get people who would laugh at you for being a wrestling fan because, dur, don't you know it's FAKE???

So part of the response to that is to insist that you're not a mark, you're a smart fan, someone who is hip to how the business works. Instead of getting caught up in the magic of kayfabe, because you're too smart for that, you analyze matches and assign them star ratings based on performance. You cheer the heel because you get they are putting in the work to add heat to the match. You obsess over TV ratings. You speculate on where storylines should go to build heat. You insist you know better ways to get people over and complain that Vince or Bischoff or Russo is not using someone who is so obviously the next big thing correctly.

It's very much an "I Enjoy the Muppets on a Much Deeper Level Than You" vibe.

But the most important thing of all, though, is that you must always be one step ahead of the wrestlers, bookers, and storytellers. See, you're a smart fan. So you must never, ever, get worked. Because that would be very uncool and lame.

And that's where the Bucks come in.

Maybe it's less obvious now, but after the Bucks left TNA/Impact, part of their brand was to very specifically get heat from all of us dorks on the Internet. These "smart" fans are the ones who are most likely to be going to PWG shows or following NJPW. So how do you get heat in your match? You have to piss off the smart marks.

I think the most obvious example is the Superkick Party. The Bucks start absolutely spamming a move that is usually a protected finisher. They get accused of exposing the business. They are upsetting people who obsess over start ratings and post on Reddit. But they are doing a classic heel move--they are working the audience. And of course, this pisses these people off even more because it reveals that they aren't as "smart" as they think they are. Which just builds into the Bucks' heat even more.

It's why they named their finisher the Meltzer Driver.

It's why they stole the NWO's "Too Sweet" and DX's "suck it."

It's why Matt Jackson kicks out of everyone's finisher like he's John Cena or Roman Reigns despite looking like a doe-eyed pretty girl.

It's why the Bucks became such successful independent wrestlers that they were able to build the second most-successful wrestling company in North America on the back of their YouTube vlog.

But again, the main people they are working are dudes who hate getting worked. And the Bucks are very good at this.

Just, as a personal anecdote, The Bucks are one of my favorite tag teams ever (if not my number one). At their Revolution 2020 match against Hangman and Kenny, I was in the crowd, and I was cheering for the Bucks. But then they grabbed Kenny's arms--Kenny who is supposed to be their best friend, Kenny who they didn't really have an issue with--and they hit him with the Golden Trigger--Kenny's finisher with his soulmate Kota Ibushi. The crowd turned. I turned. I was so infuriated at them, and I realized--they totally got me. For a great moment, I believed wrestling was 100% real, and I hated them so much, and the magic was there, and it was awesome.

Because, actually, it's not more fun to be smarter than the magician. It's not better to be cynical. It's actually pretty cool to not understand how the trick works, to get caught up in the wonder and possibility that just maybe magic can be real.

Wrestling is more fun when you get worked and let yourself enjoy it.

And the Bucks are always working this certain set of fans that are trying aggressively to not enjoy wrestling, not get sucked into it, to show that they are "too cool"--but the Bucks actually reveal that isn't the case. They are marks just like the rest of us. And they hate that.

But, yeah, TL;DR: The Bucks are amazing at specifically working Internet fans for heel hit, but these fans need to prove they are "too smart" for that. But the Bucks are smarter than them, so it makes them feel stupid. Hence all the outrageous hate.

[keerysfreckles]

hi bae. requesting prompt 6 with charles, lando, and max 😘😘😘

obsessed — CL16 LN4 MV1

pairing: charles leclerc x reader, lando norris x reader, max verstappen x reader

prompt: denial. realization. obsession.

warnings: none!

a/n: credits to @bunnysrph for the post break!!

masterlist ! | 1k celebration prompts !

. . .♡ charles leclerc

denial. charles would never fall for his best friend. he couldn't. the second he caught the view of you laughing with your friend, your wide smile adorned with the crinkles by your eyes. he knew he was in deep, and he hated himself for it.

realization. after two and a half months of trying to deny his own feelings for you, he finally accepted it. he could barely keep his eyes off of you. while he brought you to races, he kept you near, just for an excuse to be close to you. carlos mentioned to the other ferrari driver how he has 'heart eyes' for you. as soon as carlos left the room, charles smiled to himself, knowing how much he really cared for you.

obsession. ever since charles confessed his feelings to you, you've been attached at the hip. you loved every second of it. he cared about you before, but it's only been amplified. he helps carries your things, spends extra time with you before you have to get out of bed, and cooks dinner with you (even though he messes up almost every meal). he talks about you whenever he can, and loves when you get brought up in interviews. he can't wait to tell you he loves you.

. . .♡ lando norris

denial. lando shut himself out when he first felt such strong feelings for you. he rarely responded to your texts, and didn't even pick up your calls. you had to rely on oscar to see how lando has been doing since he's been m.i.a. lando on the other hand, wondered how he could possibly fall for you. maybe it was just a silly crush, that would go away in a week or two. that's all he could hope it was.

realization. it's been three weeks since lando discovered his feelings for you, and no, they haven't gone away. he didn't mind though. the feeling was starting to become normal now. the longing glances towards you in the paddock and while out with friends didn't go unnoticed by his friends. he smiled to himself whenever he saw you, he couldn't help it. oscar noticed right away, and was quick to point it out to lando. "it's been two minutes and you haven't stopped staring at her." "shut up osc." (he says with a smile).

obsession. god lando was obsessed with you. he couldn't go five minutes without some form of physical contact. he'd have his hand around your waist, rubbing small circles with his thumb. he was always kissing your shoulder before he left the room. his hands never left your hair while you cuddled in his bed. you laughed when he told you his motivation to finish a race was to be able to hold you. his eyebrows furrowed when he told you he meant every word.

. . .♡ max verstappen

denial. despite his growing feelings for you, max kept you close. not once did he mention anything towards you, keeping your friendship the same as it was. he liked the calmness, and he knew if he spilled anything it would reck it. therefore he buried the feelings, denied them.

realization. after max was told he became the world champion, he only wanted to run up to one person. that person was you, and that was when he knew. he only wanted to hug you after the cool down lap, he only wanted to kiss you, and finally tell you how he's been feeling for weeks. his smile couldn't be wiped off his face as he was able to find you in the crowd and pull you into a hug.

obsession. max's favorite thing to do was kiss you. he wasn't picky either. he'd kiss your forehead, your cheek, your neck, your nose, and most importantly your lips. oh how he loved kissing your lips. he felt as though they were made for him. yours molded to his perfectly, and he wouldn't want it any other way.

[earl-grey-teacake]

I've just seen George’s latest Instagram post (his summer break dump) and omg him with a baby and I immediately thought about this AU and the babies first holidays!

Oscar would probably hate sand but would tolerate it because Logan is having fun and would they do joint holidays?

AHHHH! Yes! I saw those too!!!

Thank you so much for thinking of my work! It’s such a compliment especially from one of my favorite Loscar authors!🥰 (P.S. I love your work!)

They would absolutely do joint holidays, primarily for the end of the year when everyone is free. They would probably get joint holidays once a year since the kids see each other so much and their parents are so busy that holidays are reserved for meeting extended family. They would likely go to Ibiza, the French Riviera, or the Caymans. The drivers seem to favor beaches and the open water.

Their first holiday is when Logan is 11 months old and Oscar is 7 months old and is in Ibiza, a Spanish Island, and I can absolutely see Carlos owning a home there. Oscar and Logan are ecstatic since they will be together all day. Logan also loves the water, eagerly toddling towards any body of water regardless of personal safety and attempting to jump in. This is usually stopped by George or Alex running after him and grabbing him by the back of his shirt before he can even hit the water.

Oscar loves the quiet and the fact that his family and Logan is there. He does not care for the hot sun and definitely not the sand. Logan is also not a fan of dry sand since it gets in between his toes and is overall very uncomfortable. Think of those babies that you try to make them sit on the grass and they lift their feet up so you can’t put them down. Logan, however, does not mind wet sand and is ecstatic when his parents hold him so the waves can wash over his feet. He erupts into squeals of laughter every time.

Oscar is neutral about water but he loves being around Logan so, while his parents are chilling, will book it and crawl to Logan. To Oscar, he is obviously crawling to Logan so he can play with him. To every adult on the premises, this is a baby crawling towards the ocean with no supervision. Babies are also surprisingly fast when they crawl so you see Carlos and Lando sprinting to prevent Oscar from getting taken out by a wave. Besides playing with Logan, Oscar’s favorite activity is napping while listening to the waves.

[leclerc-s]

paint the town red - part two

PRESEASON TESTING + EMOTIONAL SUPPORT DOGS

series masterlist

AN INTERVIEW WITH FERRARI'S NEW TEAM

scuderiaferrari posted a new story

i don't think bahrain is ready for the new and improved ferarri. let's get pre-season testing over with to show people what we're made of!

liked by arthur_leclerc, sebastianvettel, tonystark and others

scuderiaferrari preseason testing has got charlos feeling like a couple, our engineers super sleepy, and seb stressed over driver/engineer shenanigans. also featuring our emotional support dog enzo woofstappen and our emotional support ferrari academy drivers. not pictured is tony and seb cuddling as christian horner watches with longing in his eyes (you wish that was you huh?)

tagged: carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, biancastark_potts, harleykeener, arthur_leclerc, sebastianvettel, olliebearman

view all comments

username why do you guys have an emotional support dog?

↳ scuderiaferrari the previous owners had these drivers traumatized. now the drivers are traumatizing seb. yes, the dog is named after enzo ferrari and max verstappen, we blame scott.

username enzo woofstappen is such an iconic name

maxverstappen1 i can't believe you people named a dog after me

danielricciardo I CALL GODFATHER!

↳ harleykeener YES! 100% TAKE HIM WITH YOU!

↳ biancastark_potts STOP GIVING MY DOG AWAY! I'M TELLING STEVE!

↳ scuderiaferrari WHO'S AMERICA'S ASS NOW? STEVE ROGERS OR LOGAN SARGEANT?

↳ username STEVE ROGERS, FORMER CAPTAIN AMERICA, IS CALLED AMERICA'S ASS?

↳ logansargeant i got nothing on steve rogers, i will gladly give up the title to him.

username POST MORE ENZO WOOFSTAPPEN CONTENT! HE'S OUR EMOTIONAL SUPPORT DOG NOW!

↳ scuderiaferrari i'm not allowed to spam post enzo pictures on here, go to my account!

carlossainz55 charles and i look like a couple of besties!

↳ landonorris you two are in love

↳ charles_leclerc you said you loved me? was it all a lie?

↳ carlossainz55 amor no. i love you.

↳ username loving this new ferrari. carlos and charles' friendship seems better now.

↳ harleykeener carlos calls charles honey 24/7. it's sickening.

christianhorner it was not longing. seb is still our golden boy, you people have chuck leclerc.

↳ scuderiaferrari you snooze you lose old man. he’s ours now.

↳ maxverstappen1 wow, your current world champion sure feels loved

liked by biancastark_potts, natasharomanoff, michellejones and others

peterbparker as demanded by one person, here's enzo woofstappen. he's never done a thing wrong in his life except that time he pissed on bucky and when he chased alpine, the cat, up a tree.

view all comments

samwilson he fucking chewed on my wings one time

↳ biancastark_potts maybe you shouldn't have left your wings out in the common area

clintbarton he shit in my shoes

↳ peterbparker you threatened to shave him. it was deserved.

steverogers he chewed my shoes. all of them.

↳ harleykeener he was bitter about the avengers civil war

alexalbon it seems roscoe has competition for cutest paddock pet

↳ lewishamilton roscoe wins. no doubt

↳ biancastark_potts i doubt it, enzo's clearly cuter.

↳ lewishamilton i bet no one's ever told a stark they were wrong, but you're wrong

username who's enzo favorite ferrari team member?

↳ peterbparker charles, but only because he gives him extra treats!

↳ charles_leclerc I DO NOT!

↳ biancastark_potts that's something a guilty man would argue.

username who's alpine the cat?

↳ peterbparker enzo's mortal enemy and bucky's adopted cat. REMEMBER ADOPT DON'T SHOP!

↳ username was enzo adopted?

↳ biancastark_potts he was a gift from a friend. his dog had puppies and he gave me one

bianca stark-potts posted a new story

team bonding but everyone seems to be on their phones???

the new ferrari team sat in a meeting room, both drivers feeling like they were about to be scolded. peter felt like he had been called into the principal's office, which was a feeling he hated.

"why are we here?" harley questioned tony. both drivers turned to look at the younger boy, if he didn't know why they were here then bianca didn't either, meaning they could be getting in trouble.

noticing their tense faces tony chuckled, "you're not in trouble, all of you can calm down."

"oh thank god," peter whispered, "i thought i was in trouble for that america's ass comment."

"oh, you are," tony replied, "but that's for a different day. we're here for a completely different reason."

"and that is?" sebastian questioned, "don't tell me you're firing us already."

"you're kidding," tony muttered, "this is the best performance i've seen from a ferrari in years, the car that is, not the drivers. i'm making a few changes," tony gestured to his daughter, "bianca, if you would please."

"he's being lazy," bianca joked as she stood up, "he wants to throw the 1st and 2nd driver rule out the window. the first race is coming up in less than a week, so what we propose is letting you two battle it out until miami, by that point whoever has the most points will lead in the championship and the other will defend. the next year we rotate and so forth. questions?"

"would it be before or after the miami grand prix?" charles questioned.

"after," bianca answered, "it gives us enough time to gather data and study it. the rule is only implemented if you two agree, otherwise we keep going as is."

"i think it works," sebastian said, breaking the silence, "it also guarantees both of you on the podium or at least one of you every race."

“and if we don’t agree?” carlos questioned.

“then we continue as is, charles as 1st and you as 2nd,” bianca answered, “we know it’s asking for a lot, one of you has to give up the championship for the other. the car is good, we know it can beat red bull, you both have a contract extension until 2025, by that time both of you could be world champions.”

“it is a good offer,” charles reasoned with carlos, “the car is good for both of us, it gives us equal opportunity.”

“and if we are tied when we get to miami?” carlos asked, clearly the spaniard would be the harder one of duo to convince.

“we push it until one of you gets ahead,” tony answered, “however long it takes, but mark my words, one of you will be world champion by the end of the season.”

“i will do it,” charles agreed. everyone turned to look at carlos and the spaniard nodded, “me too.”

tony clapped his hands, “well boys, let’s get that championship back to maranello, one way or another.”

taglist: @celesteblack08 @be-your-coffee-pot

¡leclerc-s speaks! would this strategy ever work out irl? no fucking way but that's the beauty of fanfiction anything and everything can work out as long as you write it the right way. so, the question is, who should get the championship first charles or carlos? i'm leaning towards charles because he won monza in 2019, and carlos hasn't achieved that yet. i also am a charles girl, incase that wasn't yet obvious. so, answer the poll below and tell me who you guys think should win the championship first. let me know if you guys want to be added to the taglist.

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

[charlesslut16]

Hai there, lurker here who loooooves your writing 🫶🏻

If you’re taking requests, would you be open to doing a fic wherein the driver (Charles/Max/Oscar, your choice) is a jealous, smutty menace?

No pressure though if you’re not feeling it!

-jealous man-

summary : you are at your graduating party and party with your freind, which makes oscar jealous

PAIRING : oscar piastri x fem!reader

WARNINGS : 18+. smut, NSFW, a bit toxish, bit angst, jealous sex, possessive!boyfriend, p in v, curse words, light spanking, dirty talk, slight aftercare.

note : i hope you like it! Love you <3 I'm on vacation that's why i hope that i can post every day.

masterlist 

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The door slammed shut behind you, only to open and slam shut again. You kept your face forward as you kicked off your heels and stomped into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

 A night that was supposed to be one to remember turned into a nightmare. To top it all off, it was your graduation party from university and the one person who was supposed to make it special was the one who ruined it.

You turned around to see Oscar tossing his jacket onto the back of the couch before he walked over to the counter you were standing by and rested his hands against the countertop. 

He kept his face down, so you couldn’t see his expression, though you had a good idea of what it looked like. You took a drink before finally speaking, you had stayed quiet the entire ride home.

“I just can’t believe you’d ruin my night like that.” 

Your voice was a quiet whisper, but there was venom behind your words. He shook his head and looked up at you, his eyes dark and full of anger and frustration. 

“Me? You were the one who was all over that guy, and when he grabbed you, I couldn’t just stand there!” he shouted, walking closer to you, but you backed away with every step.

“Oscar! You beat my childhood best friend to a bloody mess! You’re lucky I’m friends with him, or he’d be suing your ass!” You ran your fingers through your hair, wishing that there was some sort of do over for the whole night.

It had stated off good. You had bought a new dress and shoes, and you even got your hair done just for the party Oscar was throwing for you. While you were getting dressed, Oscar came in dressed nice suit and gave you a small kiss.

He led you outside to his McLaren before he drove the two of you to your favorite bar. All of your friends were there, including Liam, who you hadn’t seen in years.

After doing some celebratory shots and having some cake, you began to catch up with Liam when, out of nowhere, Oscar came up and shoved him away from you before pounding his fist into his face over and over. 

The total disaster of a memory saddened you when you remembered how nice the night was supposed to be going, but it also made you so angry all over again.

“So what if he sues me? It’s not like I don’t have the money, and I’m not about to let some prick touch my girl like that! Don’t tell me you didn’t notice how he was looking at you? You aren’t that blind, are you?”

The insult was a smack in the face, but it just added fuel to the fire. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? I haven’t seen Liam in six years. Six years. So forgive me if, at my graduation party, I wanted to catch up with him and see how he was doing. And you have absolutely no right to comment on someone else staring at me when you are Oscar-fucking-Piastri. Every girl on the goddamn planet thinks you're the hottest thing to walk this earth, and I don’t go around punching every girl you talk to.”

“It’s different, and you know that,” he said lowly, walking over to you. Frustrated tears began to fall down your cheeks, leaving cool trails in their wake.

“Oh my God! You don’t even see how what you did was wrong! Oscar! You don’t even trust me enough after we’ve been together for two years. Liam is just a friend, that’s all he’s ever been. And now, thanks to you, he probably hates me!”

 You ran your fingers through your long hair and let out a loud sigh. The previous burst of energy you had had drained away slowly, leaving you a burnt out mess.

The two of you stood there in silence for a good while. You just stared at the coffee pot just past Oscar, the night's events replayed over and over again in your head. 

After minutes past, Oscar spoke softly, breaking the deafening silence.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I don’t know what came over me. I just saw him touching you, and it drove me crazy. I ruined your night and I’m sorry. This night was supposed to be about you and I ruined that,” he apologized, grabbing your hands. 

The knuckles on his right hand were cut up, bruised and bloody, but he still brought your hands up to his dry lips to leave a small hearty kiss on your knuckles.

“Let me do something to make it up to you. Please.”

You could feel his warm breath coming out in puffs against your cheek. His hands dropped to your waist and pulled you closer to him, making your heart pound. 

Your house was really eerily quiet, only the quiet sounds of your breathing could be heard. You finally looked up at him bravely, Oscar’s eyes focused on your lips. 

The two of you stood there, timeless, neither one of you wanting to break the tension. After a moment, Oscar couldn’t take it. He pulled you even closer, smashing his lips against yours, his tongue flicking playfully at yours.

 A small groan erupted from the back of Oscar’s throat as you pushed back against him. His hands dropped to your butt as he squeezed gently, before dragging his hands back up your body to cup your face.

His lips peppered kisses down your jaw before settling on a spot on your neck. A whimper left your mouth as he bit down softly before dragging his tongue up your neck. 

He grabbed your legs and picked you up, setting you down on the counter. You tightened your legs around his waist and ran your fingers through his hair before reaching down to pull his shirt off. 

His skin was hot and sent sparks throughout your body with every touch. Oscar lifted you and began walking, or rather, stumbling, towards your bedroom down the hall.

His lips never left yours until you decided to break the kiss to bite down on his shoulder, a spot you knew he enjoyed. His hands on your butt tightened when you did, and he stopped moving for a moment to entirely enjoy the moment.

 A small smirk found its way onto your lips when he began groaning, and you stopped kissing him, resting your chin on his shoulder. He whimpered at the absence of your lips, but hurried to the bedroom.

You released your legs to stand up from your bed, once you were next to your big bed, while Oscar fumbled with the zipper down the side of your graduating dress. 

The moment it was off, his lips began ravishing the soft skin peaking out of your bra, and goosebumps erupted all over your skin. He pulled away and pushed you backwards, so you fell onto the bed.

The wet spots on your breast were cold, but you barely noticed as you watched Oscar tug off his pants and boxers. He was so desperate to feel you, he didn’t even bother with his socks.

His fingers looped into your panties and quickly pulled them off before expertly unclasping your bra. His eyes widened, and he immediately began teasing your left nipple with his tongue while massaging the other with his hand. 

The feeling was numbing, and you almost couldn’t stand the constant teasing. Suddenly, Oscar flipped you over onto your stomach and pulled your ass up in the air.

Normally you’d oppose to this position, but you were so turned on it didn’t bother you at all. In fact, it made you ache even more. You heard him reach over and dig around in the drawer in your end table, followed by the tearing of foil.

The condom wrapper was tossed to the floor and forgotten about the moment you could feel his tip pushing against you. He began rocking into you, a low growl coming from behind you as he moved slowly. 

Your mouth opened, but no sound came out as you buried your face in the sheet. Oscar stopped moving for a moment to reach and grab your hands, twisting them behind your back. 

His hands were large enough to hold both of yours with one, so his other hand reached for your hair, tugging softly. A small whimper left your lips as he began moving again, this time even harder. 

His hand released yours, and he placed it back on your hips, steadying himself as he pushed faster and faster. Small moans were continuously falling out of your mouth as he hit that perfect spot with every thrust.

 A small layer of sweat covered your body as you felt the familiar warmth growing in your stomach. Oscar’s grip on your hair tightened as he gave a particularly strong thrust, causing the both of you to cry out. 

Continuous ‘I love you’s fell out of your mouth as the pleasure began filling your body. Your toes were curling, and your fingertips were growing numb as his grip on your hip tightened, destined to leave small bruises. 

A wave a pleasure swept over your body as you came, crashing down onto the mattress, loud cries echoing throughout the large room. Your body was still twitching with pleasure as Oscar came over you, falling on top of your back. 

His heartbeat could be felt on your back, and you let out a breathy laugh, too exhausted to move. The two of you laid there for a moment before Harry found the energy to roll off of you and onto his back. 

He grabbed a tissue and disposed of the used condom before pulling you into his side. His fingers drew aimlessly on your shoulders as you listened to his heartbeat slowing down to a more relaxed pulse.

“I really fucking love you, Y/N. I’m truly sorry about the way I acted earlier,” he told you, kissing the top of your head. His hand tightened on your shoulder before continuing to draw random circles on your arm.

“What you did wasn’t okay, but you should apologize to Liam. Tomorrow. I just want to cuddle and spend the last hour of my birthday with the crazy, jealous, handsome man that I love. Is that too much to ask?” 

You looked up at him to see him resting his head against the wall with his eyes closed and smiling peacefully. Even if he was crazy sometimes, you loved him even more for it.

[annebaby]

National Anthem ♡

hello all! this is my first multi-part fic, and I hope you like it! part two will be posted very soon :)

part two!

part three!

warnings: toxic snow, bribery, fem!reader x young!coriolanus snow, use of Y/N, that's it for this chapter!

I hope you enjoy! this is national anthem ♡

The capitol streets were bustling with the obnoxiously ignorant, blind-sighted chatter about the games this year. People in all the most unnecessary of extravagant clothing, smiling, laughing, and celebrating death. It was sickening, truly. Hearing them talk about their favorite tributes and the gruesome details of their death made you want to rip all your hair out. 

Surprisingly, you were not a stranger to this life. Born a capitol brat, you shouldn’t let this get you to your breaking point at all. A senior in the academy this year, you vividly recall the students being mentors in previous years; the thought of helping a child to their death made you want to vomit. 

So, you tried your best to get your single errand for the day done as fast as possible. Your goal: to find a dress for the gala in a few days. Nothing too showy, but not too modest. A dress that screams, ‘I’m pretty, but smart. I am a district doll.’ As the President’s daughter, appearance and impression were the two most important things drilled into your head. 

Your father, President Stirling, was a new favorite of Panem. His pride for the land, his love for the people, and his goals for the future are what got him elected. He was a very clean-cut man, always showing how much he loved his family. 

You knew better though. He was a cold man, one who hardly showed affection behind closed doors, a man who had spoken very rarely to his daughter. You didn’t really know much about him, always locked in his office and never really caring about you. Unless, it was about your appearances or impressions. 

Scurrying through the mall, you quickly find your go-to dress shop, a more quiet and less popular location. This dress shop has all of the current trends, but they always had something different about them that you loved. You hated capitol fashion, but it was your only option as the most looked upon girl in Panem. At least they all had a unique look to them. 

Entering the store and smelling its sweet fragrance, you hurriedly got to work. Giving every dress you liked to a worker, she put it in the dressing room for you. A common customer, they adored your business. They adored your money. 

Dress after dress, you had finally found a winner. A thin-strapped velvet dress with jewels adorning it in a beautiful pattern. It was a deep red, floor-length dress. Happy with the way it adorned your body, you took it off and handed it to the shop worker. Swiping Daddy’s credit card, you smiled at the workers and thanked them sincerely for their help. They handed you the dress across the counter and you started to make your way home. 

Navigating the large mall, there were people everywhere. You did your best to hide your face, sunglasses and all. The President’s daughter was always known as the Princess of Panem, a girl that the younger children looked up to. It was hard to be unnoticed. 

Swerving and dodging people to the best you could, you made it outside at last. Unfortunately, your presence had become known and now none other than Lucky Flickerman was awaiting you outside. Probably one of your least favorite capitol citizens, always pushing you for personal answers to appeal to the audience. 

Trying your best to spot your driver without being noticed, you see the blacked out SUV parked right down the street. It was a different car that dropped you off, but this SUV was still branded with the President’s logo. You open the doors to exit the mall, and Lucky Flickerman is already on you. 

“Is that the anticipated gown for the Gala, Ms. Stirling? What color is it? Just a peek? We’d love to see it!” 

By the time he was done getting his jumble of questions out, you had already reached the SUV. Opening the passenger door, you quickly threw the dress in the back. However, you noticed your driver was a different man than usual. 

“Coriolanus? Did my dad send you as my driver?” You took the sunglasses off your face, confusion taking over as you awaited his answer. 

Coriolanus Snow was your father’s newest intern. A charming man, certainly. He was handsome, smart, and cunning. You had a schoolgirl crush on him since he started working for your family, but you pushed it to the side. You didn’t want to be just another nuclear wife with a nuclear family in the capitol. You just weren’t ready to accept your inevitable fate. 

“Yes. The other driver wasn’t aware he was supposed to wait for you, and he returned home,” Coriolanus says. He puts the vehicle in gear and begins to take you both back to your estate. 

“Oh, that’s odd. He’s never done that before,” you say. He was a nice man, you had actually gotten on with him quite well. You weren’t sure where communication went wrong. 

“Yeah. He was fired immediately after he stepped in the door.” Coriolanus doesn’t look at you, just keeps his gaze on the road ahead of him. 

You didn’t expect much less from your father at all, but still your chest ached for the nice man. After all, he talked to you more than your own father did. 

You looked at Coriolanus for much too long after he said that. You admired his slicked-back blonde hair, his prominent jawline and you took in all of his aura you could. The Snow family had a newfound power in recent years, and boy did he know it. He was dripping in luxury. He carried himself with such seriousness and coldness that it drew you in. 

You broke away from your trance, looking forward at the road as well. It was hard to focus on anything but him when you were around Coriolanus. He too was a capitol brat, one of the worst. He supported the games in all their glory, though he was never too extravagant about it. He’s a few years older than you, meaning he’s seen more of the games. He probably accepted the fact that they were never going to end. 

Stuck in your thoughts once again, you hadn’t even realized you reached your estate that quickly. The car stopped, and Coriolanus opened the door and shut it quietly. He headed to your side of the vehicle and opened your door, holding out his hand for you to grab. Blushing, you smiled and took his hand, slowly exiting the car. He opened the back of the car, retrieved your dress, and you two headed into the house.  “Thank you, Coriolanus. You didn’t have to do all that,” you speak gently. “It’s a part of my job, Y/N,” he says coldly. You wonder if you’ll ever get past his emotionless wall. You enter the house, and Coriolanus hands the dress off to a helper so they can take it to your room. 

“Lovely seeing you today, Miss Y/N,” he says before walking back towards her father’s office. He strides when he walks, hands in his pockets and chin up. You smile to yourself, before heading up to your room.

The next day at the academy was dragging. Excitement bubbled in your stomach for the Gala the next day, and all of the classes were giving you a headache. You didn’t need them anyway - your success was guaranteed thanks to your father. 

As you were finally dismissed from your last class, you gathered your things and headed for the door. Cascading down the stairs, your best friend Bridgette Sinclair joined you. 

Both of you had been friends for years, taking a fancy to each other's' company. She was a shorter girl, with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes. A true capitol beauty, you had always thought. She too was born into the power she had, and she too believed all the same as you did. She didn’t act arrogant, never bragged on any of her assets. You loved her like a sister. 

“I say, we go to the park and discuss the Gala tomorrow! I can’t wait to see you there, Y/N.” You giggled with the girl, allowing your teenage personality to peek through. 

“Let’s go to my house instead, I’ll show you my dress!” You smiled and jumped up and down, finally allowing yourself to be true to how excited you were. 

She squealed in response as you waited for your driver. You hoped and prayed it wasn’t Coriolanus, Bridgette would never shut up about it. She knew about your crush, and she wanted you to talk to him so bad. Every time she’d hear about him, see him, or even just think about him, she would always tell you and then laugh at your blush. 

The both of you sit and gossip until the black SUV comes to pick you both up. Fingers crossed behind your back, you open the door with your other hand, and almost roll your eyes. Coriolanus is your driver again, of course. His blue eyes look at you through the rearview mirror as you sit down, not breaking his gaze even when Bridgette sits next to you. 

“Still no new driver I guess, yeah?” You look back at him through the window as he suddenly stops staring. Bridgette laughs and grabs your hand. 

“Uh- yeah no. Not yet. Your father is a particular man,” Coriolanus says, hesitantly. 

He slowly starts to take you both back to the estate, the car ride consisting of awkward stares from Coriolanus as Bridgette pesters you through hushed whispers. You almost feel as if he’s hearing everything she’s saying. You smack her quickly and quietly in hopes she’ll shut up. 

Arriving at the estate, Coriolanus does the same thing as before and opens the car door for you and Bridgette. However, his hand is only offered to you, not her. A strange action for him, you had always known him to be cold but still very polite. You took his hand and exited the vehicle before running into the house with Bridgette, looking back at Coriolanus as a ‘thank you’, before heading inside. 

“Y/N I have got to see your dress. I won’t tell anyone what it looks like, just please show me!” Bridgette plops onto your bed, anticipating your dress like a child on Christmas morning.

 You smile and head into your closet to retrieve the gorgeous gown. Grabbing it off the hanger, you slowly unzip the protective bag off of it. Bridgette’s eyes widen as she gets up to feel the dress, jaw dropped to the ground. She feels the material all in her fingers, gently admiring everything about the highly anticipated gown. 

“Oh my God Y/N. It’s beautiful. I absolutely love it!” She starts smiling widely before getting a mischievous grin on her face. 

“You know who else will love it,” she says, giggling slightly. 

You zip up the dress and hang it back in the closet, getting flustered by Bridgette’s continuous mentioning of Coriolanus. As much as you wished he had noticed you in the same way, you knew it would never happen. You were just like every other girl in the capitol. Nothing special about you. You wished he would see you as something special, but you were sure he didn’t. 

“If you don’t stop mentioning him, I'm going to strangle you, I swear.” You point at her, smiling sternly. She puts her hands up in a ‘it wasn’t me’ motion, before you plop down onto the bed next to her. 

“I really wish he did say something to me, just once you know? He is really handsome,” you admit. You hardly ever opened up about your feelings for him, just felt like getting it off your chest. 

“I know, Y/N. But I'm telling you, in a dress like that, with looks like yours, you won’t go unnoticed. There is simply no way he won’t stare at you tomorrow. And believe me, I noticed him looking at you in the rearview today. And! He only gave his hand to you for help out of the car. That had to mean something!” Bridgette sits up on the bed, you shortly following. She shakes your shoulders and tells you to be more confident in yourself. 

Hours pass by discussing makeup and flirting tips and all the other girly topics you could think of. All in preparation for the gala, of course. You discussed which shoes to wear, which hairstyle would look best, what color lipstick, everything. You knew you would feel pretty tomorrow, just maybe not pretty enough for him. 

Bridgette left after all the discussion, being picked up by her own driver. As you were walking back to your room after taking her to the door, you spot Coriolanus in the hall. He was passing off cash to a man you had never seen before. You quickly hide in the doorframe and try to listen as best you can. The man is short, seems friendly enough. 

‘Maybe a new hire?’ you think to yourself. Then, you’re finally able to pick up their conversation. 

“Just let me pose as the driver for a few more days. I won’t tell Mr. Stirling. Just leave the premises when you’re supposed to pick her up, and return back to the house in however long it would take you to pick her up yourself. Just this last time,” Coriolanus quietly whispers. He’s practically begging the poor man, shoving wads of cash towards him. 

‘Are they talking about me? He wants to drive me around? Is that why he’s been my driver?’ Thoughts are running through your head a mile a minute. So fast, you weren’t able to notice the conversation being over, and Coriolanus now heading your way. 

Too late to try to hide, you slowly start to reveal yourself as if you had just been walking to your room. He spots you immediately, eyes getting wide. You smile at him slightly, before trying to reach the stairs. However, he speeds up and grabs you by the shoulders, pressing you against a nearby wall. 

“Did you hear any of that, Ms. Y/N? Be honest with me.” His eyes piercing into yours, quickly darting from your lips and back up. He looks absolutely insane. 

“I- uh no. I don’t even know what you’re talking about I swear,” you lie. His eyes are scanning your face frantically before he releases you. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N. As I'm sure you’re now aware, I'll be your driver. Be ready at 5. I’ll pick you up.” He slowly stares for just a second before walking away. He’s wearing a long coat, taking long strides. Something about him is so addicting. 

You catch your breath for a second, slowly starting to put the pieces together. He knew you were listening, and now you knew you were correct. He wanted to be your driver and he was bribing the new hire! Oh you couldn’t wait to tell Bridgette about this. 

You hurriedly headed up to your room, changing into your PJs and getting ready for bed. Your mind continuously running on overdrive, you couldn’t seem to focus on anything, except the fact he was taking you to the gala tomorrow. Did he like you?

Getting into your bed, it wasn’t long before you fell asleep, Coriolanus heavy on your mind. 

[danieldrivesfast]

Would love to hear your take on why Maxiel was the most popular f1 ship for years, and why Lestappen now seems to have taken over.

The first bit of this is easy.

As far as Maxiel falling off specifically, Daniel is "old" in the minds of the young, new fans. Look at how the hate towards him usually mentions his age and his hairline (which has always been like that, but I digress). It's the same thing as when old folk like me loved Nick and Brian, but then grew up and realized Kevin and AJ were the hot ones the whole time.

This is going to tie into my literacy rant, but these new fans like to claim Daniel is a racist, misogynist, whatever because of his age and their inability to contextualize things he says or does in relation to the topic, situation, or time period. So, of course, they don't want someone they perceive as "bad" in their ship. They're completely deluded, but... That's a different post.

A lot of these new, younger fans also started following the sport very recently. They missed the Maxiel teammate era, the scorned lovers era, the reconciliation era, and are only seeing the comfortable era. (I just made those up.) They didn't watch that actual relationship grow and mature over the last ~8 years.

It's the same with Dando. Now I'm realizing I need to talk about why Daniel Ricciardo is your favorite driver's favorite driver. Anyway.

Maxiel was compelling early on because you had hotshot, cocky, popular Daniel Ricciardo on a team with an ultra-talented young kid in Max Verstappen, a menace who was gunning for his hard-earned #1 spot. (These young fans also don't realize that the RBR cars at that time were not good. What Daniel and Max were able to do with them is insane.) Max was the serious son of a nasty man, DR was, well, DR. The way Max came out of his shell and would always look to Daniel for approval when he made a joke or tried to be funny was endearing, and still is.

At first it was a typical teammates ship, but when Daniel said he was leaving for Renault, it added a whole lot of angst very quickly, and it kept blooming from there. Watching them mature and realize how much they cared about each other through the Renault/McLaren years was something. Very much a "distance makes the heart grow fonder" situation. It was actual growth between two people, and it was very easy to translate that into a ship/fanfiction setting.

I feel like if you don't know that backstory and didn't see it unfold, it's easier to jump on a popular ship of the moment for new fans. It's also the difference between just wanting two cute boys to kiss versus being drawn to two men who've been through it together and have developed a deep bond and rock-solid relationship over years of personal and professional growth. So... maturity.

There are a few asks about Lestappen that I really think tie in with the second part of this ask and my last point, so I'm going to put them together in a different post.