#aron au

[seducemefanficsandheadcanons]

Someone needs to take the iPad away from me

For context, both Aron and @new-tella-us version of Mika are addicted to caffeine (Mika likes coffee, Aron likes energy drinks)

James is a hater and cuts off their intake because he's afraid they're gonna have a heart attack

@tr1n1ty32069 , your man is a H A T E R

[httpiastri]

paul aron x reader, 18+

"you've made quite the mess here, love."

a scoff slips past your lips, a look of feigned offense appearing on your face. "me?" you exclaim, shaking your head. "i think you're just as guilty as i am."

"possibly," paul answers with a shrug. "but you were the one who looked so irresistible that i couldn't wait until we got back home." his hands move from your hips up to cup your cheeks, guiding your face down to his height and pressing a kiss to your forehead. "now, i think you should slip off me so i can clean you up properly."

he leans over to the passenger's seat, pulling open the glove compartment and grabbing a box of tissues. "what if i want to stay here forever?"

he shakes his head, looking down with a grin as he pulls a few tissues out of the box. "you're a mess. i can buy new pants, sure, but…" his other hand lands on your hip again, giving you a few pats. "i can't have you leaking on the seats."

this has you rolling your eyes. however, you place your hands on his shoulders, beginning to slide off his length. "of course, your dear porsche. how could i forget?"

"oh, don't pout," he says, a hint of that teasing smile still on his lips as he starts wiping at the inside of your thighs. "you know i love you both equally."

you press your lips into a straight line, just staring at him silently for a few moments. "glad to know i'm equal to a car."

"to a porsche," he's quick to correct, grin growing bigger by the second. "now, come on and sit back a little so i can clean you up properly."

you let out an exaggerated sigh but oblige, tilting your hips slightly so that he can reach between your legs to wipe away some of your combined juices. he's so gentle, a bit of a contrast to how he acted mere minutes ago when he thrusted up into you, and he really takes his time to make sure to get every last drop with the tissues.

"you know i'm just kidding, right?"

most of the time, paul hides behind this tough, cold and careless exterior – but you know better than that. you know about the gentle, warm and loving person hiding beneath that mask; the boy who needs to be reassured even in moments of clear jest such as this one.

he visibly relaxes when you nod, putting aside the used tissues into the little trashcan he keeps on the floor of the backseat. "just wanted to make sure," he mumbles, partially to himself, before taking a deep breath. "you're the most important thing in my life. and i love you so much."

his hand meets your cheek again, tilting your head to the side before pressing a sweet kiss to the sensitive spot below your ear. "i love you so much, too," you respond easily.

"good." his fingers move up to brush a few loose pieces of hair out of your eyes. "because no matter what, i'm completely and utterly yours. no matter how much i may fawn over my porsche."

"well, i mean… i understand it." you shrug. "you didn't pay hundreds of thousands for me…"

"right? you see my point, don't you?"

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Las Vegas SMAUs

Grid x Fem!Reader

A/N: I totally lied to you guys. I thought about this idea since I'm vacationing here in Vegas and I HAD to do this and post it! I also haven't posted a SMAU in a while so enjoy!

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

Instagram

F1 & F2 Masterlist

Logan Sargeant:

The club was a whirlwind of flashing lights and thumping bass. Logan Sargeant and I were relishing our rare night out, the high energy of the club contrasting sharply with the intensity of race weekends. We were at a VIP table, enjoying the night when I noticed a drunken man stumbling our way. He was clearly inebriated, his movements erratic as he navigated the crowd.

He stumbled up to our table, his eyes squinting as he focused on Logan. “Hey, bro,” he slurred loudly, drawing attention from nearby tables. “What’s with the arm candy? She’s probably just here for the perks. You know, the money and stuff.”

I tried to ignore the comment, hoping it was just drunken nonsense that would pass. Logan’s face, however, flushed with visible irritation. “Hey, man, can you keep it down?” he asked, attempting to defuse the situation with a calm but firm tone.

But the man was relentless. “Seriously,” he continued, leaning in and jabbing a finger in Logan’s direction. “She’s a trophy girlfriend. You’re the fool for thinking she actually cares about you.”

Logan’s patience snapped. He stood up abruptly, his face a mask of controlled rage. “That’s enough!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the music. “You don’t get to talk about her like that!”

The man responded with a drunken shove, which sent Logan stumbling back into the table. Logan’s anger boiled over, and he lunged forward, shoving the man back. The situation deteriorated rapidly. The drunkard, enraged, retaliated, and within moments, they were on the floor, trading blows. The club’s atmosphere shifted from lively to chaotic, with patrons crowding around and whipping out their phones to capture the scene.

The club’s security team, alerted by the uproar, rushed over. The bouncers struggled to separate the two men amidst the spilled drinks and scattered debris. I followed the commotion to a small, dimly lit back room where Logan was being held. His face was a mixture of frustration and remorse as he paced back and forth.

“I just couldn’t stand by and let him talk about you like that,” Logan said, his voice trembling with regret.

I handed over the bail money to the officer, my hands shaking slightly. “I know you were trying to defend me, but we need to be more cautious. Let’s get out of here and go somewhere more low-key.”

The officer uncuffed Logan, and we quickly exited the back room, avoiding the remaining crowd as we left the club and sought a quieter place to regroup.

Lando Norris:

The casino was abuzz with activity, the clinking of chips and murmurs of excitement filling the air. Lando Norris and I were at one of the high-stakes poker tables, deeply engrossed in the game when a rowdy guest at a nearby table began making disparaging remarks.

The man’s voice cut through the noise of the casino, slurred and obnoxious. “Hey, look at her,” he called out, his gaze locked on me. “She’s probably just here to use you. All this is just a front.”

I felt a rush of discomfort but tried to ignore him, hoping he would tire of his behavior. But he continued, his comments growing increasingly personal. “Seriously,” he said, his voice growing louder. “She’s a gold-digger. You’re just a fool if you think she’s with you for any other reason.”

Lando’s face turned a deep shade of red. His jaw clenched as he tried to control his anger. “Can you keep your mouth shut?” he snapped, but the man’s taunts only escalated. “You’re pathetic, mate,” he continued. “She’s just using you for the money.”

Unable to hold back any longer, Lando stood up abruptly. “That’s enough!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the casino’s cacophony. He shoved the man, who staggered backward before lunging at Lando. The two men clashed in the middle of the casino floor, exchanging punches and grappling fiercely.

The crowd around us quickly swelled, with many pulling out their phones to record the spectacle. Chips flew, and the poker game was abruptly abandoned as patrons turned their attention to the unfolding drama. Security arrived promptly, but it took several minutes for them to separate Lando and the man, who were both covered in scratches and bruises.

I rushed to the security office, my heart pounding as I handed over the bail money. “I’m here to bail out Lando Norris,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Lando, visibly shaken and with a mixture of frustration and regret on his face, looked at me. “I didn’t mean for it to get this far,” he said, rubbing his sore knuckles.

The officer uncuffed him, and I led Lando out of the casino, away from the curious onlookers and the chaos, in hopes of finding a quieter place to calm down and enjoy the rest of our evening.

Charles Leclerc:

The hotel lobby was a haven of luxury and calm, a stark contrast to the scene that was about to unfold. Charles Leclerc and I were relaxing in the plush seating area, enjoying a moment of peace after a hectic day. The tranquility was shattered when a drunk guest began making loud, derogatory comments.

“Hey, look at her,” the guest said loudly, his voice carrying across the lobby. “She’s probably just here for the perks. What a joke.”

Charles’s face tightened with irritation. I could see the anger building in his eyes. I tried to stay calm, hoping the man would back off. But the guest continued, growing bolder with each comment. “Seriously, man,” he said, leaning closer, “she’s just here for your money. You’re fooling yourself if you think she’s actually interested in you.”

Charles’s patience wore thin. “You need to stop!” he shouted, standing up with a mixture of anger and determination. “You don’t get to talk about her like that!”

The confrontation escalated quickly. The guest shoved Charles, and Charles responded by shoving him back. The lobby, once a serene escape, was now filled with chaos as the two men clashed. Guests looked on in shock, some pulling out their phones to capture the altercation.

Security arrived promptly, intervening to separate Charles and the guest. The atmosphere was electric with excitement as the crowd buzzed with whispers and recordings. I followed them to the security office, my heart racing as I handed over the bail money.

“I’m here to bail out Charles Leclerc,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Charles looked at me with a mixture of frustration and regret. “I didn’t want things to get this bad,” he said, his voice filled with regret.

The officer uncuffed Charles, and I guided him out of the office. “Let’s go back to our room and try to put this behind us,” I suggested, hoping to salvage what was left of the evening.

Carlos Sainz:

The high roller suite was the epitome of luxury and relaxation, but that changed abruptly when a drunken guest began making derogatory remarks. Carlos Sainz and I were enjoying the opulent surroundings when the guest’s behavior grew increasingly obnoxious.

“Hey, look at her,” the guest slurred, his voice cutting through the suite’s refined atmosphere. “She’s probably just here for the money. What a joke.”

Carlos’s expression went from relaxed to visibly angry. “Can you keep it down?” he asked, trying to avoid a confrontation. But the guest’s comments grew more personal. “Seriously, mate,” he continued, “she’s just a trophy for you. You’re a fool for thinking otherwise.”

Carlos’s patience snapped. “That’s enough!” he shouted, confronting the guest. “You don’t get to talk about her like that!”

The situation quickly escalated. The guest shoved Carlos, who pushed back, and within moments, they were grappling on the floor of the luxurious suite. The suite, once a haven of elegance, was now a battleground. Security arrived, struggling to separate the two as the crowd of high-rollers looked on, many recording the scene with their phones.

I followed them to the security office, my heart pounding as I handed over the bail money. “I’m here to bail out Carlos Sainz,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Carlos looked at me with a mix of frustration and regret. “I didn’t want things to get this far,” he said.

The officer uncuffed Carlos, and I guided him out of the office. “Let’s get out of here and try to enjoy the rest of our night,” I suggested, hoping to salvage what was left of our evening.

Daniel Ricciardo:

The Strip was alive with its characteristic energy and noise, but that vibrancy took a turn for the worse when a drunken tourist began making crude comments about me. Daniel Ricciardo and I were strolling along the famous street, taking in the sights and sounds, when the tourist’s behavior became intolerable.

“Hey,” the tourist called out, his voice slurring. “Are you just looking for a sugar daddy?”

Daniel’s mood shifted from relaxed to visibly tense. “Please, just stop,” he said, trying to defuse the situation. But the tourist continued, growing bolder. “Seriously, mate,” he persisted, “she’s just here for the money. You’re a fool if you think she actually likes you.”

Daniel’s anger was palpable. “That’s enough!” he shouted, confronting the tourist. “You don’t get to talk about her like that!”

The situation escalated quickly. The tourist shoved Daniel, who responded by shoving him back. The confrontation turned into a physical altercation, with the two men trading blows on the sidewalk. A crowd quickly gathered, with many pulling out their phones to record the fight.

The police arrived swiftly, intervening to separate Daniel and the tourist. The crowd buzzed with excitement as the officers dealt with the situation. I made my way to the police car, my heart racing as I handed over the bail money. “I’m here to bail out Daniel Ricciardo,” I said.

Daniel looked at me, his face a mix of frustration and regret. “I didn’t want things to get this bad,” he said, rubbing his wrists where the handcuffs had been.

The officer uncuffed Daniel, and I guided him away from the chaos. “Let’s get out of here and find somewhere quieter,” I suggested, hoping to end the night on a better note.

Lewis Hamilton:

The upscale bar was supposed to be a retreat from the hectic pace of Las Vegas, but that changed abruptly when a drunken guest began making disrespectful comments. Lewis Hamilton and I were enjoying our time at the bar, savoring the luxury and ambiance when the guest’s behavior took a turn.

“Hey,” he called out loudly, slurring his words. “What’s she doing with you? She’s probably just a gold-digger.”

Lewis' face tightened with anger. “Please, stop,” he said, trying to ignore the comments. But the guest didn’t relent. “Seriously,” he continued, “she’s just here for the money. You’re a fool if you think she actually likes you.”

Lewis' anger flared. “That’s enough!” he shouted, standing up with visible frustration. “You don’t get to talk about her like that!”

The situation quickly escalated. The guest shoved Lewis, who responded by pushing back. The upscale bar, once a sanctuary of peace, turned chaotic. Security rushed in, attempting to separate the two as patrons pulled out their phones to capture the scene.

I followed Lewis to the security office, my heart racing as I handed over the bail money. “I’m here to bail out Lewis Hamilton,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Lewis looked at me, frustration and regret evident in his eyes. “I didn’t want things to get this out of hand,” he said.

The officer uncuffed Lewis, and I guided him out of the office. “Let’s get out of here and try to enjoy the rest of our night,” I suggested.

Oscar Piastri:

The lively atmosphere of Fremont Street was a stark contrast to the chaos that unfolded when a drunken spectator began making crude remarks about me. Oscar Piastri and I were enjoying the vibrant street scene when the spectator’s comments grew increasingly obnoxious.

“Hey,” he yelled, his voice slurred and loud. “What’s with her? She’s probably just a gold-digger!”

Oscar’s face shifted from cheerful to furious. “Please stop,” he said, trying to avoid a confrontation. But the spectator was relentless. “Seriously,” he continued, “you’re just flaunting her around like a trophy. What a joke.”

Oscar’s anger flared. “That’s enough!” he shouted, pushing the spectator away. “You don’t get to talk about her like that!”

The argument quickly escalated into a physical altercation. The spectator, caught off guard, retaliated, and soon they were engaged in a full-blown fight. The crowd on Fremont Street gathered around, many of them recording the commotion on their phones.

The police arrived quickly, separating Oscar and the spectator. I approached the officer, my voice steady but my heart racing. “I’m here to bail out Oscar Piastri,” I said, handing over the bail money.

Oscar looked at me, a mix of anger and regret in his eyes. “I didn’t want things to get this out of hand,” he said.

The officer uncuffed Oscar, and I took his arm as we left. “Let’s get out of here and find somewhere quieter,” I suggested, hoping to leave the chaos behind us.

George Russell:

The luxury pool party was supposed to be a highlight of our trip, but a drunk guest’s comments soon ruined the evening. George Russell and I were lounging by the pool when the guest began making loud, derogatory remarks.

“Hey,” he called out, his voice dripping with mockery. “Look at her. She’s probably just here for the free drinks and a rich boyfriend. What a cliché.”

George’s face darkened. “Can you keep it to yourself?” he asked, trying to remain calm. But the guest didn’t stop. “Seriously, mate,” he continued. “She’s just a trophy. You’re fooling yourself if you think otherwise.”

Unable to stay quiet, George stood up. “You don’t get to talk about her like that!” he shouted.

The situation escalated quickly. The guest shoved George, who pushed back, and the confrontation turned physical. Security intervened, and the party-goers began recording the drama. George was soon escorted away in handcuffs, while the crowd buzzed with excitement.

I approached the security office, my heart racing. “I’m here to bail out George Russell,” I said, handing over the bail money.

George looked at me with a mixture of frustration and regret. “I didn’t want things to get this bad,” he said.

The officer uncuffed him, and I guided him out. “Let’s get out of here and try to salvage what’s left of our night,” I suggested.

Lance Stroll:

The exclusive lounge was meant to be a relaxing escape, but it turned into chaos when a disrespectful guest started making lewd comments about me. Lance Stroll and I were enjoying a quiet drink when the guest’s remarks took a turn.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he said loudly, “are you just here for the rich guy? What a cliché.”

Lance’s face turned red with anger. “Please stop,” he said, trying to defuse the situation. But the guest didn’t relent. “Seriously,” he continued. “She’s probably just a gold-digger. You’re pathetic for thinking otherwise.”

Lance’s patience snapped. “That’s enough!” he shouted, confronting the guest. “You don’t get to talk about her like that!”

The argument quickly escalated into a physical confrontation. Security arrived, separating Lance and the guest while patrons began recording the scene. Lance was handcuffed and escorted away, and the lounge buzzed with excitement.

I approached the security office, handing over the bail money with a sigh. “I’m here to bail out Lance Stroll,” I said.

Lance looked at me, clearly frustrated. “I didn’t want things to get out of hand,” he said.

The officer uncuffed Lance, and I took his arm as we left. “Let’s get out of here and try to enjoy the rest of our night,” I suggested.

Max Verstappen:

The luxury restaurant was meant to be a serene dining experience, but a rude patron’s comments quickly shattered the calm. Max Verstappen and I were enjoying a quiet dinner when the guest’s remarks began to pierce through the ambiance.

“Hey, look at her,” the guest said loudly, “she’s probably just here for a free meal and a rich boyfriend. How cliché.”

Max’s face turned from relaxed to enraged. “Can you keep your comments to yourself?” he asked, trying to stay calm. But the guest continued. “Seriously, man,” he sneered. “She’s just a gold-digger. What a joke.”

Max’s patience snapped. “You don’t get to talk about her like that!” he shouted, confronting the guest.

The situation quickly escalated. Max shoved the guest, who retaliated, and before long, they were grappling on the floor. Security intervened swiftly, and the restaurant’s patrons began recording the altercation. Max was soon escorted away in handcuffs, while the restaurant buzzed with excitement.

I approached the security office, my heart racing. “I’m here to bail out Max Verstappen,” I said, handing over the bail money.

Max looked at me, a mix of anger and regret in his eyes. “I didn’t want things to get this bad,” he said.

The officer uncuffed Max, and I guided him out. “Let’s get out of here and enjoy the rest of our evening,” I suggested.

Pierre Gasly:

The exotic car showroom was a spectacle of luxury and opulence, but it turned chaotic when a rude guest began making derogatory comments about me. Pierre Gasly and I were admiring the cars when the guest’s remarks took a turn.

“Hey,” he said loudly, “look at her. She’s probably just here to find a rich guy. What a joke.”

Pierre’s face tightened with anger. “Can you stop?” he said, trying to ignore the comments. But the guest persisted. “Seriously,” he continued, “she’s just a gold-digger. You’re a fool for thinking otherwise.”

Pierre’s anger flared. “That’s enough!” he shouted, confronting the guest. “You don’t get to talk about her like that!”

The situation quickly escalated into a physical confrontation. Security intervened, and the showroom’s patrons began recording the drama. Pierre was soon escorted away in handcuffs, and the crowd buzzed with excitement.

I approached the security office, handing over the bail money with a sigh. “I’m here to bail out Pierre Gasly,” I said.

Pierre looked at me with frustration and regret. “I didn’t want things to get this out of hand,” he said.

The officer uncuffed Pierre, and I guided him out. “Let’s get out of here and try to enjoy what’s left of our night,” I suggested.

Arthur Leclerc:

The rooftop bar was a high-end retreat with stunning views, but it took a turn for the worse when a drunk guest began making crude comments. Arthur Leclerc and I were enjoying the evening when the guest’s behavior became increasingly obnoxious.

“Hey,” the guest slurred loudly, “look at her. She’s probably just here for the free drinks and a rich boyfriend. What a cliché.”

Arthur’s patience wore thin. “Can you keep it down?” he asked, trying to defuse the situation. But the guest continued. “Seriously, man,” he persisted. “She’s just a trophy girlfriend. You’re a fool if you think she actually cares about you.”

Arthur’s anger flared. “That’s enough!” he shouted, confronting the guest. “You don’t get to talk about her like that!”

The situation quickly escalated. The guest shoved Arthur, who retaliated, and before long, they were on the floor, grappling fiercely. The rooftop bar, once a serene escape, was now filled with chaos. Security arrived, attempting to separate the two as patrons recorded the altercation on their phones.

I followed Arthur to the security office, my heart racing as I handed over the bail money. “I’m here to bail out Arthur Leclerc,” I said.

Arthur looked at me with a mix of frustration and regret. “I didn’t want things to get this bad,” he said.

The officer uncuffed Arthur, and I guided him out. “Let’s get out of here and try to enjoy what’s left of our night,” I suggested.

Paul Aron:

The high roller lounge in the casino was meant to be a luxurious experience, but it turned chaotic when a drunken guest began making derogatory remarks about me. Paul Aron and I were enjoying the exclusive atmosphere when the guest’s comments took a turn.

“Hey,” the guest slurred loudly, “look at her. She’s probably just here for the rich guy. What a cliché.”

Paul’s face turned red with anger. “Please, stop,” he said, trying to ignore the comments. But the guest didn’t relent. “Seriously, mate,” he continued. “She’s just a trophy girlfriend. You’re a fool for thinking otherwise.”

Paul’s patience snapped. “That’s enough!” he shouted, confronting the guest. “You don’t get to talk about her like that!”

The situation quickly escalated. The guest shoved Paul, who retaliated, and before long, they were grappling on the floor. The high roller lounge, once a haven of luxury, was now filled with chaos. Security arrived, struggling to separate the two as patrons recorded the scene with their phones.

I followed Paul to the security office, my heart racing as I handed over the bail money. “I’m here to bail out Paul Aron,” I said.

Paul looked at me with a mix of frustration and regret. “I didn’t want things to get this out of hand,” he said.

The officer uncuffed Paul, and I guided him out. “Let’s get out of here and try to salvage the rest of our evening,” I suggested.

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

taglist:

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 3 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal l l @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 9 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess s @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii @Milkyymelanine @ilovsyou3000morgan @styl1shl1v @eddieharrington @hellowgoodbye

[inaissante]

twitter au 🌟

A look into the twitter life of Prema's F2 female driver Y/n Verstappen or the little sister of the two times world champion.

warnings: none except the reader and arthur leclerc being the definition of the word clueless -_-

requested: yes/no

part 2

part 3

my masterlist

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

Y/n's twitter account:

Some of the tweets:

[wholesomecryptidart]

Idk, just some rough concepts i sketched out of a robot Steven au

[sugakookie78]

Instagram Posts (Instagram AU)

Posts that either you or the driver post about your relationship.

Pairing: Group 4:

Post 1: Carlos Sainz x Reader

Post 2: Alex Albon x Reader

Post 3: Sergio Perez x Reader

Post 4: Paul Aron x Reader

Pictures are from Instagram, Tumblr, or Pinterest

@/carlossainz55 Beach <3

Tagged @/Y/N.Y/L

Liked by @/Y/N.Y/L, @/charles_leclerc, and 249,851 others

Y/N.Y/L <3

carlossainz55 <3

user1 She is so pretty!

charles_leclerc Can I join next time?

Y/N.Y/L I don't know, maybe. Maybe not

charles_leclerc What? Why?

user2 You two are adorable together

@/Y/N.Y/L Alex was trying to help me study for exams. Honestly, didn't help a lot and was a bit distracting. 3/10. Would not ask to be my study buddy again, but was pretty cute

Tagged @/alex_albon

Liked by @/alex_albon, @/yourclassmate, and 18,349 others

alex_albon I tried, I failed. You are much stronger than I am. Sorry for the distractions... Good luck and I love you!

Y/N.Y/L It's fine. Thank you! I love you too!

user1 What are you studying?

yourclassmate What did you get on the first part of the exam? Also, can I borrow some of your notes?

Y/N.Y/L I got a 91%. You? And yeah, sure. Text me which pages and I'll email them over

yourclassmate Thank you so much. You're a lifesaver! I got a 87%

user2 How do you keep your notes so organized and neat?

@/Y/N.Perez He said he didn't like the first one... Then he bought me two others to match. Thank you, mi amor!

Tagged @/schecoperez

Liked by @/schecoperez, @/maxverstappen1, and 25,983 others

schecoperez Yeah, they're cute, I guess. You're welcome, sol

user1 That's so cute!

maxverstappen1 He keeps that buddy on his desk all the time. He even named it Sol. If he could, he would bring it in the car with him

Y/N.Perez Thank you, Max, for this very important information

schecoperez You are giving my secrets away, Max. You promised not to tell

user2 He is so in love

@/Y/N.Y/L We did get lost... but got there eventually

Tagged @/paularon_

Liked by @/paularon_, @/dinobeganovic_, and 8,395 others

paularon_ We weren't lost... just taking the scenic route

Y/N.Y/L Sure, yeah, definitely

user1 Where did Paul get the suitcase?

dinobeganovic_ Was it Paul's fault?

Y/N.Y/L Partly, yeah. But it was my idea for him to be in charge of the GPS

paularon_ Hey!

[emphasisonthehomo]

A snippet from the very self indulgent musician au I'm working on.

•

Lucy breaks her wrist less than a week before the opening concert in Madison Square Garden. It’s 8:35pm on a Saturday. They’re supposed to be on stage the coming Friday. Doors open at 6:00pm. Once Buck gets confirmation from Bobby that she’ll be okay, that she needs surgery but will be fine, he proceeds to have what Hen generously refers to as an anxiety attack, and Eddie calls a Chernobyl level meltdown.

“I’m already working on it,” Bobby says calmly, after Buck comes back from hyperventilating in the bathroom for fifteen minutes.

Hen wordlessly holds out a water bottle, and Buck chugs half of it in one go.

“One. Week. Bobby,” Buck says, and he knows he looks manic, “Not even that! Five days!”

“It’s cutting it very close,” Eddie says, “But c’mon Buck, this is LA. There are a lot of excellent drummers in town.” 

“What are we supposed to even do?” Buck asks, “We can’t have tryouts, it’s way too close.”

“I’ve already got a few people in mind,” Bobby says, looking down at his phone.

“Who could you possibly know that can learn this entire setlist so quickly?” Buck says, fighting and failing not to sound whiny, “And can just drop everything and be on the road for the next six months?”

“What about Tommy?” Chimney asks, apropos of nothing.

Hen makes an interested noise. 

“Tommy would be good, actually,” Bobby says, nodding slowly.

“…Who the hell is Tommy?” Buck demands.

[soleilpinto]

Chasing the Apex (Paul Aron) Ꮺ ָ࣪ ۰ ͙⊹

“Oh, my love, I’d be the first to admit it: I’ve been caught up in my feelings." (Niki, Lose) ⋆˚࿔

Synopsis: Paul likes to think his life is perfectly balanced—at least, until he starts noticing you. As you suddenly grow closer to Pepe over the season, Paul struggles with emotions he doesn’t want to admit. Torn between loyalty and longing, he learns that some races can’t be won, especially the ones fought off the track.

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Pepe Martí x Fem!Reader (Spin off in Paul’s POV)

Warnings: Broken hearts(?), Not many since this is just a spin off in Paul’s POV

Note: To that one ask that suggested I make a Paul POV to my Pepe fic, it kept festering in my mind that I decided to actually make a spin off 😭 I liked the idea of seeing the other side of things since not many people would see the other person’s side and how they might be handling these things. Anyways, don’t forget to like + reblog as always!

Changing Lanes (Pepe’s Version.) !!

The Porsche event was buzzing with energy—flashes from cameras, sleek cars on display, and a steady hum of conversation.

You were there for work, capturing social media content, blending into the crowd as much as you could. Paul wasn’t supposed to notice you, but somehow, he did.

It happened when you were leaning over a display, adjusting your camera to capture the perfect angle of a custom car interior.

He caught the glint of your necklace in the light, then the furrow of your brow as you concentrated. Something about the moment made him pause.

“Nice angle,” he remarked, stepping closer.

You turned, startled, only to be met with the unmistakable blonde hair and piercing gaze. “Oh, thanks,” you said, blinking. “Just trying to make this dashboard look like art.”

He chuckled lightly. “Tough job, but I think you nailed it.”

The conversation was brief, polite, and nothing out of the ordinary. But as Paul walked away, he realized he was still thinking about it hours later. Something about your calm focus, your easy laugh—it stuck with him.

Still, he shook his head. He had a girlfriend waiting for him at home, and this was nothing. Just a harmless interaction. Nothing more.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

It wasn’t like the typical interactions he had with people in his world. There was no pretense, no racing politics—just a brief, honest exchange.

Later, as he wandered through the event, his mind kept returning to that moment. He saw you again, a few feet away, scrolling through your phone near the refreshments, and without thinking, he approached you.

You looked up when he tapped your shoulder, a soft surprise in your expression. He couldn’t help but grin.

There was something about the way you carried yourself that was easy, refreshing even.

“You know, I didn’t think we’d run into each other again,” he said, trying to keep the conversation light, yet something in his voice betrayed his growing curiosity.

You laughed softly. “Seems like it.”

He wanted to say more, but the words seemed to get stuck. Instead, he just kept talking, enjoying the flow of the conversation.

You weren’t like everyone else he met—there was no pressure, no awkwardness. Just two people sharing a moment in the middle of an otherwise busy event.

When he excused himself, heading back into the crowd, he felt that same lingering pull, that feeling of wanting to know more about you.

It wasn’t something he had planned on, but it was there, quietly gnawing at him.

Shaking his head, he tried to push it down. It was just a conversation. Nothing more. But as he looked back at you from across the room, he couldn’t ignore the small ache that settled in his chest.

The next few weeks were a blur of race weekends, media duties, and endless travel. But as Paul went from one paddock to the next, there was something that stood out to him more than usual: you.

It started small—a fleeting wave when you passed by in the paddock, a brief exchange as he waited by the media wall. But over time, those small encounters grew.

You’d be walking from the garage, your camera in hand, and you’d make eye contact with him, a smile curving your lips in acknowledgment.

Every time he saw you, he felt a strange sense of calm. Your presence was comforting in a way he didn’t understand.

It was during a rare quiet moment in the paddock, just before the weekend’s first practice session, that you caught his eye again.

He had been talking with his team, but his gaze kept drifting back to where you were standing, casually chatting with a colleague.

There was something about you—your energy, your genuine interest in the world around you—that kept him coming back for more.

“You know,” he said, finally breaking away from his conversation and walking over to you, “I think I’m starting to see you everywhere these days.”

You laughed, a light, airy sound that made his heart skip. “Guess I’m just that hard to get rid of,” you teased, adjusting the strap of your camera bag.

Paul’s lips twitched upward. “Not complaining. It’s just... unexpected, that’s all.”

“I get that,” you said with a knowing look, as if you were sharing some unspoken understanding. “But hey, it’s a small paddock. I’m sure we’ll keep running into each other.”

There was a silence between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt easy, natural. Paul found himself wanting to hold onto the moment longer, to keep talking. But as usual, the bustle of the paddock pulled him away.

“See you around, yeah?” you said, offering him a smile that felt like it lasted longer than it did.

“Yeah. See you,” he replied, before watching you walk off, the noise of the paddock swallowing up the moment.

As the conversation with you wrapped up, Paul felt the familiar pull of the paddock around him—people walking by, the sound of teams running around, and the low hum of engines wrapping up for the afternoon.

He forced his attention back to his team, but his eyes kept flicking to where you stood, now chatting with Ollie and Kimi, the three of you laughing at something Kimi had said.

Paul watched you for a moment longer than he meant to, noting how natural you looked with them, how easily you fit into the rhythm of the paddock.

There was a lightness in the way you moved, a kind of grace that felt unforced, as if you belonged in this chaotic world in a way he hadn’t expected.

Ollie gestured toward the media area, and you turned to say something to him, your smile bright and easy.

As you walked away with them, Paul’s gaze lingered for a beat longer, watching your figure as you disappeared into the crowd.

He couldn’t help the slight pang of something—jealousy, maybe? Or just a sense of loss, the feeling that he was watching something he couldn’t quite touch. He shook his head, trying to shake the thought from his mind.

“Focus, Paul,” he muttered to himself, but the feeling of watching you walk away, so effortlessly at ease with everyone around you, stuck with him, tugging at him in a way he didn’t understand.

He turned back to his team, trying to keep his focus on the upcoming sessions for tomorrow, but it was hard to ignore the weight of that fleeting moment, the quiet ache in his chest that had begun to grow stronger.

The atmosphere at the Austria race was charged with the usual business of the paddock, but something felt different to Paul.

He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it was there—a subtle shift in the air whenever he crossed paths with you.

Normally, you were easygoing, quick to greet him with a smile, a joke, or an offhand comment. But today, you seemed... distant.

When he saw you in the media area, your eyes didn’t light up with recognition the way they used to. Instead, you nodded politely, your focus quickly shifting to your camera and phone, your attention entirely absorbed in your work.

It was during a break, when the noise of the paddock settled just enough for him to hear his own thoughts, that Paul noticed the change again.

You were with Pepe, filming his thoughts on the race but then laughing at something he’d said, your whole demeanor different.

The lightness in your voice, the way you looked at him—it wasn’t something he had seen with you before.

There was something undeniably intimate in the way you two interacted, an ease that seemed to draw you closer together with every passing minute.

Paul stood off to the side, the pang in his chest growing harder to ignore. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much, but it did.

A voice in the back of his mind told him it was none of his business, that he was being ridiculous. He had a girlfriend, after all. He was happy, or at least, he told himself he was.

Shaking his head, he pushed the thoughts aside. He had a girlfriend to focus on, and a podium to celebrate.

As the day drew to a close and people began to trickle off to various parts of the paddock, Paul walked toward his girlfriend, the familiar weight of her presence grounding him. Still, the image of you and Pepe together lingered, a knot in his stomach that refused to loosen.

Trying to push it away, he wrapped his arm around his girlfriend, smiling as they walked off together.

Paul and his girlfriend made their way through the paddock, yet he couldn’t help but glance around, his mind still racing. He tried to focus on the usual chaos of the post-race debriefs, the teams packing up, but his gaze wandered. That’s when he saw you again.

You were walking out of the paddock, talking to Pepe, your head tilted back in that carefree way he had grown used to seeing.

The two of you were so wrapped up in your conversation that you hardly seemed to notice the world around you, the familiar hum of race weekend continuing on without a care.

There was something about the way you walked side by side with Pepe that caught Paul off guard.

The way your shoulders brushed occasionally, the ease in your conversation—it wasn’t the playful, casual interaction he was used to seeing in passing.

This was different. There was a warmth between you two, something deeper, and it hit Paul harder than he expected

He caught himself staring for a second too long, before quickly looking away, focusing back on the path in front of him, his hand tightening around his girlfriend’s.

“You okay?” she asked, noticing the shift in his demeanor.

“Yeah,” Paul replied quickly, his tone too sharp, too distracted. He tried to force a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

He could still feel the weight of the moment—the way you and Pepe moved together, completely unaware of him standing there, and how it made something twist in his chest.

They continued walking, and Paul tried to shake off the unsettling feeling that lingered, but it stuck with him, gnawing at the back of his mind the rest of the day.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to escape the thought of you and Pepe, of whatever was happening between the two of you, and why it bothered him so much.

Over the next few races, Paul couldn’t escape the constant presence of Pepe in your life. It was subtle at first—just little moments here and there.

He noticed the way your eyes would light up when you saw him, the way you shared inside jokes with him during media breaks, your demeanor so easy and warm.

It was almost like there was a secret language between you two, something only you both understood.

At the Hungarian Grand Prix, Paul watched you and Pepe in the media area, standing close to one another, your body language casual yet intimate.

You blushed at something Pepe had said, your hand briefly hitting his arm as you leaned in, a soft, unspoken connection between the two of you.

Paul felt a pang in his chest, something that made him feel uncomfortably aware of the way his stomach tightened whenever he saw you and Pepe interact.

Why did it bother him so much? He tried to shake off the feeling, but it lingered, clouding his thoughts every time he saw you two together.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t know that you had your own life, that you were free to form whatever connections you wanted. But there was something about the way you and Pepe were—so naturally in tune with each other—that unsettled him.

As the races went on, Paul found himself constantly watching for those moments between you and Pepe.

The brief touches—his hand on the small of your back when you moved through the paddock together, the way your eyes seemed to linger a little longer on him than they should. It wasn’t anything overt, but to Paul, it was enough.

He couldn’t stop comparing it to the times he and his girlfriend had spent together, the way things had felt with her versus what he was seeing between you and Pepe.

He tried to push the thoughts away, reminding himself that he had a girlfriend, that he was in a committed relationship. So why did the sight of you and Pepe together leave him feeling uneasy?

Paul couldn’t help but replay those moments in his head as the races continued.

Each time he saw you and Pepe together, something inside him twisted—a feeling he couldn’t place, but one that wouldn’t go away.

He kept telling himself it was nothing, that he was overthinking it, but deep down, he knew it was more than that.

He watched you both interact at the next race, your easy camaraderie, the way you naturally gravitated toward each other. And yet, each time he saw it, a part of him felt... displaced.

It wasn’t jealousy—at least, that’s what he told himself.

He was just a little confused by the depth of the connection between you two, a connection that seemed to grow with every passing race.

When he saw you and Pepe together in the paddock once more, a thought crossed his mind—a thought he quickly dismissed but couldn’t shake. What if you and him were more than just friends?

He caught himself staring, but quickly turned away, focusing on his team, on his race, on anything to push the thought out of his mind.

He had a girlfriend, he was happy with his relationship, and yet... the image of you and Pepe together seemed to cling to him, gnawing at him, reminding him of how easily feelings could grow—how quickly things could change.

Paul’s heart rate quickened as he quietly passed by the Campos garage, the emptiness glaringly obvious. He was on his way back from a quick check-in with his team when the sound of your voice caught his attention.

He stopped in his tracks, not meaning to eavesdrop, but he couldn’t help it. There was a soft vulnerability in your tone, something unguarded.

He didn’t mean to listen, but the words reached him clearly, and he couldn’t stop himself from pausing just out of sight.

“You know,” Pepe said, his voice quieter than usual, “I really admire how you handle everything. I’ve seen the way you juggle work, racing, everything. You’ve got this strength about you that’s... rare. It’s not just about how you push through tough times, but the way you stay true to yourself, even when everything feels impossible.”

Paul felt a strange tightening in his chest. The way Pepe spoke, with such genuine reverence—it wasn’t something you heard often, especially from a friend.

It made the air in the garage feel heavier, like he was eavesdropping on something too private.

You blinked, clearly caught off guard by the sincerity in his words. “I... don’t know what to say.”

Pepe’s response was soft but unwavering, and there was a weight in it that Paul couldn’t shake.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he replied, his gaze steady. “I just think you’re incredible. And I don’t think enough people tell you that.”

Paul’s heart stuttered, and for a moment, he felt as though the world had paused around him.

The warmth in Pepe’s voice was undeniable, and the way you responded, with a slight hesitation, as though absorbing the weight of his words—it stung more than Paul cared to admit.

Without thinking, Paul took a few steps back, retreating from the conversation he’d unintentionally overheard.

The words continued to echo in his mind as he walked away, a feeling of discomfort settling deep in his gut.

‘Why does this matter?’ he asked himself, frustration building inside him. ‘You’re happy. You’ve got a girlfriend. Why does this feel... wrong?’

But no matter how much he tried to dismiss it, that hollow feeling in his chest wouldn’t go away. It stayed with him, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts, as he made his way back to his team.

The Azerbaijan Grand Prix weekend had been intense, and with the red flag out, the pit lane had erupted into a flurry of activity.

Paul, trying to refocus after the interruption, wandered over to the edge of the pit wall, where the teams were waiting for the all-clear. His eyes scanned the commotion, but they paused when he caught sight of you.

You were pacing near the garages, your eyes darting from one side of the track to the other. Paul couldn’t help but notice the urgency in your movements.

Something in his chest twisted as he saw you approach a few crew members, clearly searching for someone.

“Have you seen Pepe?” you asked, your voice light but with an edge of concern.

The words hit Paul harder than he expected. You weren’t just asking for someone—Pepe was the one you were looking for, and your voice held a quiet intensity, a level of care that didn’t go unnoticed.

His stomach dropped. The realization that whatever you and Pepe shared went beyond friendship, beyond casual, hit him like a wave.

Paul could feel the lump in his throat as he took in the scene. You weren’t just looking for him because you cared about him just like any other person would after a huge crash—you needed to see him.

Whatever connection you and Pepe had was real, solid, and deep. It wasn’t something temporary or fleeting; it was meaningful, and it was obvious to Paul now.

The easy way you spoke about him, the subtle gestures of affection, and now this—your clear worry over where he was—made Paul’s heart ache in a way he didn’t know how to process.

As you disappeared further into the pits, Paul felt a surge of frustration. Why was it bothering him so much? He had a girlfriend, he was committed.

He shouldn’t be feeling this way, especially not about someone who wasn’t even his to worry about.

But despite his best efforts to dismiss it, the thought of you and Pepe became more than just a passing observation. It gnawed at him, making the air in the pit lane feel suffocating.

He knew he needed to focus, to get back to the task at hand, but all he could think about was the connection you and Pepe shared.

Something about it felt... different. Real. And it left him with an unsettling feeling that wouldn’t go away.

When the race had ended, the chaos of the track slowly settling into a distant hum, but Paul couldn’t shake the feeling that had settled in his chest.

As the teams started to pack up to make way for the Formula 1 race that afternoon, he made his way toward the paddock, his eyes distracted by the blur of motion around him. But then he spotted you.

You were standing by the pitlane wall, just a few feet away from where Pepe was sitting, his helmet in his hands as he stared down at the pavement.

He looked dejected, frustrated—anyone could see that the race had taken its toll on him.

Without hesitation, you walked over to him, your steps soft but purposeful. For a moment, you simply stood there, your presence like a quiet comfort that seemed to ease some of the tension in his posture.

Then, without a word, you knelt down next to him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

Paul stopped in his tracks, watching as you leaned in, speaking softly to him.

From this distance, he couldn’t hear the words, but he could see the way Pepe’s shoulders relaxed, the way his gaze softened when he looked up at you.

You were there, steady and unwavering, offering him the kind of support that was deeper than mere sympathy.

For a brief moment, you touched his arm, a comforting gesture, before you sat down beside him on the wall.

The two of you sat there for a few minutes, a quiet exchange between you—one that was more than just words.

It was the way you both seemed to draw strength from each other in that moment. Paul couldn’t look away, a strange feeling swirling in his stomach.

There was something so undeniably intimate about the way you were together, something that he couldn’t ignore, no matter how much he tried.

He tried to push the thought away, to focus on his own race, but his mind kept returning to the sight of you with Pepe.

There was a connection there—something Paul hadn’t fully understood until now. You weren’t just friends; there was a deeper bond between you two. And the way you comforted him, like you had been doing this for years, made Paul’s chest tighten.

He quickly turned on his heel, retreating into the crowd, but the image of you and Pepe sitting together lingered in his mind.

It was clear now: whatever he had been trying to ignore, whatever unease had been growing inside him—it was real.

Over the off-season, Paul found himself in Rome with his family. The trip was meant to be a much-needed break—a time to relax and recharge before the next season began.

Rome was beautiful, rich with history, and bustling with energy.

But despite the charm of the city and the warmth of his family's company, Paul couldn't shake the restlessness in his chest.

In the evenings, after dinner, he would slip away from the table, retreating to the quiet of his hotel room.

It was easier to find solace there, away from the laughter and conversation, where he could get lost in his thoughts. That’s when he would inevitably pick up his phone, scrolling aimlessly through social media.

At first, it was just to catch up on messages or check in with his friends. But then, his thumb would always land on your profile.

He didn’t want to look. He really didn’t. But each time, the curiosity pulled him in.

There were so many photos of you and Pepe—casual beach days, dinners out, and snippets of your life together that made it clear how much you two meant to each other.

One photo stood out: you both were laughing on a boat, the Monaco coastline in the background, the sunset painting the sky.

You looked so carefree, so happy, and the way you were looking at Pepe—there was no mistaking it.

The caption was filled with sweet words and inside jokes, the words that only made sense to you two.

Another picture showed you both sitting at a café in Barcelona, the table littered with coffee cups and your faces lit up with smiles.

Paul stared at the screen, his stomach sinking. Each photo seemed to reaffirm the reality he didn’t want to face—that you and Pepe had become something more than just friends.

The truth stung. It felt like a door had quietly closed in his face, one he hadn’t even noticed before.

He tried to push the feeling away, telling himself that he had no right to feel this way. He was in a relationship, after all.

Yet, each photo made it harder to ignore the hollow ache in his chest. You had moved on, and it hurt in a way he couldn’t explain.

Sighing, he leaned back on the bed, his phone still in his hand. The city of Rome, with all its beauty and history, felt distant now.

The quiet hum of the hotel room contrasted sharply with the thoughts swirling in his mind. The pictures of you and Pepe lingered there, impossible to shake.

In Qatar, after a much-needed break, Paul finally achieved his first win. The atmosphere in the paddock was electric, the energy palpable as he stepped out of the car, feeling the weight of his hard work pay off.

The team surrounded him, celebrating with high-fives and cheers, the moment finally here after so many near-misses.

He stood there, basking in the glory, as the crowd's applause and his team's jubilation blended into a blur of pride and excitement.

Through the chaos, he caught sight of you approaching him. You looked professional, a smile on your face as you walked over to offer congratulations.

"Hey, congrats, Paul," you said warmly, the familiar tone of your voice always sounding like a breath of fresh air in the sea of race talk. "Huge win, and you were announced as Alpine’s reserve driver too."

“Thanks, really appreciate it," he replied with a grin, still riding the high of the moment.

You quickly shifted to work mode, pulling out your phone to shoot content for the Formula 2 account.

It was the usual routine—candid photos, a couple of quick clips, capturing the excitement of the win for the followers.

The energy between you two was easy and light, the kind of interaction he had grown used to over the past few months.

But then, after a brief exchange, you checked your watch, and without much more than a final smile, you were off, heading toward the direction of the paddock.

Paul watched as you quickly made your way through the crowd, no longer in his peripheral vision. His stomach turned slightly.

There was something about the way you’d left, the urgency in your step, that left him uneasy.

It wasn’t anything he could pinpoint exactly, but the thought of you rushing off to find Pepe—that same feeling from before, that quiet ache—was there again.

He forced himself to push the thought aside. This was his moment, his victory, and he couldn’t let the nagging feeling disrupt it.

But as he continued to smile for the cameras, the feeling lingered, hanging over him like a shadow that wouldn’t let go.

Just as Paul was getting lost in his thoughts, he heard footsteps approach. Looking up, he saw Pepe walking over, a wide grin on his face.

"Congrats, man," Pepe said, clapping him on the shoulder in a friendly gesture. "Well deserved."

“Thanks, mate. It’s been a long time coming," Paul replied, trying to match the warmth in his voice, though something about the moment felt oddly distant.

You were right beside him, your presence unmistakable. "Great job, again, Paul," you said, offering him a smile that was both genuine and professional, but Paul couldn’t ignore the way you seemed to linger slightly longer by Pepe’s side.

He almost didn’t notice, but the subtle touch of your hand on his arm, a brief glance between you two, felt like another reminder of the bond that had grown stronger between you and him.

“Thanks," Paul said again, forcing a smile as he noticed how the two of you seemed to exist in a world of your own, separate from the celebration.

It stung, but he pushed the feeling away.

Pepe caught his eye, giving him a quick nod, a silent acknowledgment of his victory. "Catch you later, then. Still need to debrief with the team in a bit," Pepe added before turning to walk off with you.

The two of you walked away, side by side, and for a moment, Paul couldn’t shake the feeling that the distance between them had grown too large for him to close.

The season finale in Abu Dhabi was electric, the energy palpable as the drivers celebrated their achievements. But Paul couldn't fully immerse himself in the chaos of it all. His eyes kept drifting to you.

Pepe had just crossed the line, winning the sprint race, and as the team gathered in parc fermé, you were the first to reach him. Paul stood back, watching as you rushed over, your face lighting up with excitement.

Without hesitation, you threw your arms around Pepe, pulling him into an embrace that felt effortless and natural.

The world around you both seemed to vanish in that moment, the noise of the crowd, the clamor of cameras, all muted by the closeness you shared.

The way you held him, the way his arms wrapped around you with such ease, felt so intimate, so real. Paul stood frozen, a lump forming in his throat.

It wasn’t just a congratulatory hug—it was something deeper, something unspoken.

The connection between you two was undeniable, and the ache in Paul’s chest grew with each second.

He looked away, but it didn’t help. He had a girlfriend, didn’t he? He wasn’t supposed to feel like this. And yet, the longing lingered, gnawing at him.

He tried to shake it off, focusing on the race, the celebrations, the team around him—but the hollow feeling inside him wouldn’t disappear.

As the crowd around you and Pepe swelled, he could still see you both, your laughter, your smiles, the way you fit together.

A part of him realized that he had missed his chance, that what he felt didn’t matter. But that didn’t stop the ache.

It was as if the season had ended, but a new kind of race had begun inside him, one he wasn’t sure he could win.

© soleilpinto 24’ -. no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner without the permission from the publisher.

[new-tella-us]

Another Day, Another Cousins AU

So Mika and Aron decided to go to the beach with the boys. As in they traveled to Hawaii.

So yes this is the beach episode stand in.

And of course the cousins chose to be styling and profiling

Matthew does not need an OUNCE of mind reading to know what is going through his brothers' minds.

Aron belongs to @seducemefanficsandheadcanons

[dragonotaku-justineverything]

Little guy wants uppies.

...

And someone to love him.

"C-cubone cubone!"

"Cue cue?! What's wrong?" Pyrrha looked concerned as she caught sight of her newest member of her Pokemon team running towards her. He seemed very upset and agitated in the cries he was letting out. "Did something happen when you were playing with Aron and Hera?" She had only left them alone with Jaune for a few minutes to run to the restroom, and the second she got back she saw the little guy almost tripping over himself as he ran over to her, crying and arms flailing about as his little legs carried him.

Speaking of Jaune, the blonde came running over to her as well behind Cubone. Hera was cradled in his arms and her Aron was sprinting as quickly as she could behind him to catch up. "Pyrrha! I'm sorry, but I don't know what happened! They were still playing and having fun until a minute ago! But then I tried to join in a little and he started getting all fussy !"

"Cuebone! C-cuebo!"

Pyrrha stooped down to one knee and reached her arms out to him, beckoning him closer. "What's got you so worked up Cue Cue?"

The little pokemon didn't hesitate to rush towards her and immediately threw himself into her arms. "Cuuuue!"

Pyrrha caught him with ease and stood back up, holding him as gently as she could to her body. She was about to ask him what was wrong again, but before she even got his attention she noticed that he already wasn't flailing like he had been. And the brief shaking in his body she felt when she picked him up was also stopping just as quickly. "Cue Cue?"

The little ground type hugged her and then looked up to her eyes. The tears and cries had stopped and now he actually seemed somewhat calm. "C-cue?"

Pyrrha lightly rubbed his back. "You okay buddy?" Cubone nodded to her, then went back to hugging Pyrrha like nothing just happened. "Yeah, you're okay. You're my tough little guy." Pyrrha's words seemed to put him even more at ease. Aron also seemed relieved when she reached Pyrrha's crouching form to check on her friend.

"Wooooah that was amazing!" Jaune practically had stars in his eyes as he looked at her. "You got him to settle down just by giving him a hug! You're hugs must be incredible Pyrrha!"

Pyrrha blushed a little and smiled at his praise, but she kept her focus on Cubone in her arms. "Thank you Jaune, but I don't think it was just my hug that got him calmed down. I suspect that there is something more going on. What happened exactly before Cubone got so upset?"

Jaune readjusted Hera in his arms to get a better hold of her and started scratching her underbelly to keep her preoccupied. "I honestly don't know, but it was probably something I did. I'm sorry Pyrrha. They were just playing and having a blast so I wanted to join in a little. I picked Hera up like I usually do and before I knew it he was bawling. I'm sorry I scared him and ruin their fun."

"Jaune, I assure you that you most likely didn't do anything wrong. Perhaps you did startle him by picking Hera up so suddenly, but it wasn't intentional. You can't be faulted for that. However, I think it's something a little less serious. He stopped crying almost as soon as I picked him up. Perhaps he was just feeling left out?"

"Oh! Well... that makes me feel a bit better. And a bit worse too." Jaune lent in a little to talk to Cubone directly. "Sorry Cubone, didn't mean to leave you out. Next time I'll keep you in mind."

He got a quick glance and a nod from the pokemon. Pyrrha was much more vocal in her response. "Thank you Jaune. I'm sure he appreciates that. Now, how about we continue all of the fun they were having?"

"Yeah, sounds good! Right Hera?"

"Growlithe!" Hera was more than happy to get back to the game of chase they were having! Especially since her friend was now okay. She knew that he gets really scared when he can't find the nice red haired lady. But he's okay now and she'll make sure to have a lot of fun with him to help make him feel better!

[seducemefanficsandheadcanons]

Current roman empire

Aron getting comfortable enough around Sam and slowly unmasking her ND traits.

She was shamed and screamed at for them as a child by her family, so she's very insecure about them at times. She's worried that if she shows them, she'll get made fun of or hated

Even now that she claims she "doesn't care" and encourages patients not to nask, it is second nature for her, even though it is absolutely exhausting

It takes time, and she goes through period of times where she'll get self conscious and go back to hiding them, but he never ever makes her feel judged for them

But yeah, that's my roman empire lol

[httpiastri]

🍈 first kiss or i missed you kiss with paul aron maybe with popstar! reader??? 🥺🥺

🍈 – send me a driver and a prompt from this list of hugging prompts, these touch starved prompts, or these kiss prompts, and i will write a short blurb for you!!

author's note: yet again, idk what a "blurb" is 🤣 i should definitely not keep writing 1k stories if i wanna keep up with the requests lo. anyways!! thank you SO much for this request?! it made me so happy to think that some people actually care abt paul and his popstar 🥺 i made it "i missed you"-kisses, hope you enjoy!! <333

3k celly !!

paul aron x popstar!reader

paul feels so out of place. he's never done something like this before, never been to a place like this before.

he isn't used to feeling like this. in his racing world, he knows everyone and everyone knows him. anywhere he goes, he has this confidence and ease plastered onto his expression; even if he doesn't know what he's doing, he will act like he does. but standing backstage at his girlfriend's concert? completely new territory, and he can't even pretend like it doesn't scare him.

paul flew straight to london from austria on the sunday night after his feature race. he spent the monday resting, doing his recovery workout, rewatching his races of the weekend – and most importantly, preparing for the night. the latter includes re-evaluating the outfit he's picked out for the fifteenth time (he almost considers running out and buying something new, but he isn't sure he will have time before he should be at the concert), pacing around his hotel room while trying to figure out what to tell you when he sees you again (will "you were so good" make it sound like he's talking to a dog or a child instead of a fully capable woman?), and trying to stop himself from smiling at the mere thought of you ("come on, paul. this is getting ridiculous").

of course he's late to the concert, and the entire way there in the taxi, he worries about not being allowed to get in despite his backstage pass. fortunately, he "only" misses the entire supporting act and almost your opening performance, but he makes it just in time to see you go out and start the show with one of your hits that has the arena roaring.

paul is used to having teenage girls scream his name when he stands on the podium, or having fans wait for him by the track hoping to take a picture with him. but this is all on another level. hearing the entire crowd sing along with every word of all your songs, seeing the tears stream down their cheeks at your sadder songs, and watching them dance in their colorful self-made outfits to their favorite songs makes his heart swell. the fact that they're all there for you, and the fact that they're probably just as obsessed with you as he is…

it will be painful, but he supposes he can find a way to be alright with sharing you with them.

not only is this his first time backstage of a concert, but it's also his first time seeing you perform live. granted, he's watched videos and listened through your entire set list millions of times, but there's still a hint of nervousness in his gaze when he watches you on the stage.

after the concert is done, after he's been shown the way backstage by a sweet usher, paul waits nervously outside the room he supposes is your personal lounge (your name in big, sparkly letters on the door kind of spoiled it for him). his gaze flickers around the area nervously, seeing all kinds of staff hurry past him carrying all kinds of stuff, none of them seemingly even recognizing that he exists. his hands find their way to his front pockets, burying them deep as he leans back against the wall. suddenly the collar of his shirt seems way too tight, and his belt must be adjusted wrongly, and he's struck with the realization that he ended up choosing the wrong outfit after all.

what if you don't like it? what if you think he looks weird, what if you think he doesn't fit in here-

his thoughts get interrupted by the sound of his name, and the fact that it's your sweet voice that's calling out for him makes his heart swell yet again. he turns his head to the side, a big smile on his lips as he watches you run down the hallway towards him. his arms are stretched wide and he scoops you into them when you reach him, lifting you into the air. the little squeal that slips past your lips only makes him squeeze you tighter, and your arms find their usual place draped around his neck.

"you made it!" you exclaim, leaning back slightly when he sets you down on the ground again. "i wasn't sure if you would be able to! wow, you're actually here!"

"of course i did, i-" he pauses for a second to collect his thoughts, but his words get tousled up in his mind – all of that preparation going straight out the door – and he has to shake his head at himself. "you were perfect. i'm so impressed."

your mouth forms some kind of happy pout, a thankful and relieved one, as you blink up at him. "really?"

"really. i've never seen anything this cool." he pulls you in for another hug, burying his face in your neck, inhaling that sweet scent of your shampoo that's been stuck on his mind for ages. "i really missed you."

"i really missed you, too."

his arms stay wrapped around you when you pull back, just enough to come up face-to-face with him and brush your nose against his ever so slightly. when you finally seal your lips against his, paul lets out a sigh he feels like he's been holding for weeks, completely melting against you. it feels like you've been standing there for hours, yet only milliseconds; mouth pressed against mouth, heart laced with heart.

when he finally pulls away, he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, and he can't stop himself from pressing a few gentle kisses along your skin. it takes everything you have to lean away from him, a shaky breath passing your lips as you gaze up at him. "let's… go inside instead…" you mumble, head pointing towards the door of your lounge.

paul nods, doing his best to catch his own breath, before finally letting his arms unwrap from your frame. "but only if you tell me how you managed to change clothes that many times in such a short time," he says, and you can barely even believe your ears. of course he'd be surprised by something so mundane. "you know, i can barely even choose one outfit. but you had, like, what, six?!"

"yeah, but they're the same every show, so…" you say with a laugh, pulling the door open. "plus, i have someone to design my outfits for me."

"for real? can i borrow her?"

"just get in here already…"

[logansargeantsbabymom]

I Need You

George Russell x Fem!Reader

Requested: A anon who sent me a beautiful message had requested something George related so I made it smut.

Warnings: SMUT

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

Instagram

F1 Masterlist

The celebrations were in full swing. George, the dashing Formula 1 driver, had just won his second Grand Prix in Austria, and the team was ecstatic.

The champagne flowed freely, and the atmosphere was electric. Among the well-wishers was me, George's girlfriend of two months. I was stunning, with shimmering eyes that seemed to see right through him, and I had a body that captivated his imagination.

As the party continued, George and I found ourselves locked in an intense gaze. It was as if the world around us had melted away, and only we existed. George felt his desire for me intensifying with each passing second. He knew he had to have me, but he didn't want to rush things. Our relationship was still fresh, and he wanted to respect that.

"I need you," he whispered, his voice hoarse with longing. "But I don't want to rush. Are you sure about this?"

my heart pounded in my chest. I had desired this man from the moment I laid eyes on him, and now, here he was, offering me something even more intimate. I bit my lip, my eyes sparkling with mischief.

"I've wanted you from the start, George. I'm not going to say no now."

Without another word, George took my hand and led me away from the celebrations.

We made our way to his driver's room, a private space where he could relax between races. As soon as the door closed behind us, the passion that had been building between us exploded.

George pressed me against the door, his lips crushing mine in a hungry kiss. I moaned, opening my mouth to welcome his invading tongue. His hands roamed my body, cupping my breasts and squeezing them gently. I arched my back, pressing my chest into his hands, my nipples hardening at his touch.

Breaking the kiss, George trailed hot kisses along my jawline and down my neck. He nibbled and sucked on the sensitive skin, leaving a trail of wet, sparkling marks. I gasped, my head falling back to give him better access.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted to do this," he murmured, his breath hot against my skin. "To taste every inch of you."

His hands slid down my body, grasping my hips and pulling me towards him. I could feel his hard cock pressing against my belly, and I ground myself against him, already aching for release.

George chuckled, the vibration sending shivers down my spine. "Eager, aren't we?”

Before I could respond, George lifted me, wrapping my legs around his waist. Still kissing me passionately, he walked us over to the bed and laid me down gently. He hovered over me, his eyes burning with desire as he took in the sight of my naked body.

"You're beautiful," he breathed, running a hand up my thigh. "Absolutely gorgeous."

I blushed, my cheeks contrasting with my heated skin. I reached for him, pulling him down for another kiss. Our tongues danced together as George's hand slid between my thighs. He stroked me gently, his touch feather-light, making me whimper into his mouth.

"Please, George," I begged, my voice hoarse with need. "I need you now."

With a growl, George ripped open the button of his jeans, his hard length springing free. My eyes widened at the sight of his thick cock, straining with desire. I reached out, wrapping my hand around him and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Your turn to be eager," I teased, stroking him slowly.

George hissed, bucking his hips into my hand. "Fuck, Y/N, that feels so good."

He stepped back, quickly shedding the rest of his clothes before returning to the bed. George positioned himself between my legs, his tip teasing my entrance. With a slow, deliberate thrust, he slid into me, filling me completely.

I cried out, my head tossing from side to side as I adjusted to his size. George stayed still, giving me time to get used to the feel of him. Then, he began to move, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, deeper this time.

"Oh, God," I moaned, my eyes fluttering closed as pleasure washed over me. "Yes, just like that."

George set a slow, relentless pace, each thrust driving deeper into my wet heat. I met his movements, pushing back against him, my hips moving in perfect harmony. our bodies slapped together, the sound filling the room, mingling with our heavy breathing and moans.

As the pleasure built, George reached between us, finding my clit and rubbing it in circles. I cried out, my back arching off the bed.

"Don't stop, please don't stop," I panted, my fingers tangling in his hair.

George quickened his pace, pounding into me with force. The bed creaked beneath them, the headboard banging against the wall with each powerful thrust. My breath came in short gasps as I felt my orgasm building, a coiling tension deep in my core.

"Cum for me, baby," George groaned, his own release threatening to overtake him. "Let me feel you cum around me."

His words sent me over the edge. I cried out, my body shaking as waves of pleasure washed over me. George felt my pussy clenching around him, milking his cock, and it pushed him over the brink. With a hoarse shout, he spilled himself inside me, his hips stuttering as he filled me with his release.

We lay tangled together, our breathing slowly returning to normal. George brushed a stray lock of hair from my face, his thumb gently caressing my cheek.

"That was incredible," he murmured, a lazy smile playing on his lips.

I smiled back, my eyes sparkling. "It certainly was."

Unbeknownst to us, our passionate encounter had an unexpected witness.

Lewis Hamilton, George's teammate, had heard the noises coming from George's room and had decided to investigate. He had watched, his breath quickening as he spied on the couple, his hand moving faster and faster over his own cock as he listened to our passionate moans and watched our bodies move together.

Now, as he adjusted his clothes, Lewis couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy mixed with arousal. He knew that what he had done was an invasion of privacy, but he couldn't deny the primal satisfaction he felt seeing George lose control like that.

As Lewis made his way back to his own room, a smile played on his lips. Perhaps there were some benefits to this new development. After all, he now had some very intriguing material for his own fantasies. And who knew, maybe this wouldn't be the last time he got to witness such a sexy display.

——————

pt. 2 maybe?

taglist:

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal l l @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi i @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess s @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii @Milkyymelanine @ilovsyou3000morgan @styl1shl1v @eddieharrington @hellowgoodbye

[shatterspin]

Arin and his aron that keeps bonking him, so he gets angry at it to teach it a lesson

[muqingapologist]

finished east of eden by john steinbeck about a week ago and it’s dawning on me rn how well the themes fit scum villain…..scum villain east of eden AU: east of qingjing…who’s gonna write it

[sugakookie78]

Posts (Instagram AU)

This one is going to be a bit longer than normal. There's probably going to be two or three posts for each of the guys. Thanks for reading!

Pairings:

Section 1: Paul Aron x Reader

Section 2: Arthur Leclerc x Reader

Section 3: Ollie Bearman x Reader

All pictures are from Tumblr, Pinterest, or Instagram

@/Y/N.Y/L Studying time. Thanks, babe, for the cookies and help!

Tagged @/paularon_

Liked by @/paularon_, @/arthur_leclerc, and 7,391 others

paularon_ You're welcome, darling. Good luck on your exams. I love you!

Y/N.Y/L I love you too!

arthur_leclerc Can I have one?

Y/N.Y/L No, unfortunately. They are all gone already

arthur_leclerc What? And you didn't save any for me?

Y/N.Y/L Are you taking exams? Would you like to take mine? Then you might get cookies

arthur_leclerc Yeah, nevermind. I'm good

paularon_ That's a good idea, Arthur... Let's just say it's a good thing we're both good drivers

@/paularon_ Dinner Date

Tagged @/Y/N.Y/L

Liked by @/Y/N.Y/L, @/dinobeganovic_, and 23,694 others

Y/N.Y/L Thank you, baby... Even if you stole some of my cake

paularon_ It was right there! But, I'm sorry. Love you

Y/N.Y/L I love you too <3

user1 That view is breathtaking

dinobeganovic_ Bring her to a race, man. All of us want to meet her

paularon_ I'll try. @/Y/N.Y/L, are you free in say... two weeks?

Y/N.Y/L I think I can free my schedule

dinobeganovic_ Woo!

@/Y/N.Y/L Paul and his boat adventures

Tagged @/paularon_

Liked by @/paularon_, oscarpiastri, and 10,496 others

paularon_ I needed to get a better look at something

Y/N.Y/L Well, you were rocking the boat. So don't next time, thanks <3

paularon_ I'll just warn you before hand instead <3

oscarpiastri Is that safe?

Y/N.Y/L Probably not... But I don't think driving Formula cars are 100% safe either... So...

oscarpiastri You got a point there

user1 Your bucket hat looks so good!

@/Y/N.Y/L Thank you for the amazing anniversary gifts, darling. I love you so much!

Tagged @/arthur_leclerc

Liked by @/arthur_leclerc, @/yourbestfriend, and 19,476 others

arthur_leclerc I love you too, ange!

yourbestfriend Aww, this is so cute!

Y/N.Y/L I know, right. I have the best boyfriend ever!

arthur_leclerc 😳

Y/N.Y/L :)

user1 This is what I want!

user2 Exactly! Arthur is raising the bar for all men

@/arthur_leclerc Meadows <3

Tagged @/Y/N.Y/L

Liked by @/Y/N.Y/L, @/charles_leclerc, and 24,069 others

Y/N.Y/L Thank you for the bouquet, A! I love you so much!

arthur_leclerc I love you more! <3

charles_leclerc You two are too cute 🤮

Y/N.Y/L Thanks, Charles (I'm ignoring the emoji)

charles_leclerc You're welcome, Y/N (But... whatever)

user1 What's your favorite flowers?

Y/N.Y/L The Carnation (National Flower of Monaco) and Amaryllis (they're just pretty)

arthur_leclerc My flower, @/Y/N.Y/L

Y/N.Y/L 😳

user2 Aww

@/Y/N.jpg Unseen pictures of Arthur (ft. Charles when he stole my phone)

Tagged @/arthur_leclerc, @/charles_leclerc

Liked by @/arthur_leclerc, @/lando.jpg, and 10,596 others

arthur_leclerc <3

Y/N.jpg <3<3

arthur_leclerc <3<3<3

charles_leclerc I didn't steal it. You left it on your seat.

Y/N.jpg Yeah, but you took it and walked to your motor-home with it. And I didn't know where it went. So technically stealing

lando.jpg Another .jpg to join the club!

Y/N.jpg :)

@/olliebearman Pool day

Tagged @/Y/N.Y/L

Liked by @/Y/N.Y/L, @/arthur_leclerc, and 21,794 others

Y/N.Y/L <3

arthur_leclerc So this is where you snuck off to after the challenge video...

olliebearman Yeah, I didn't have anything else to do... So?

arthur_leclerc We could have used your help

olliebearman Cleaning up after your pranks are not part of my job description

arthur_leclerc How did you know that's what I meant?

olliebearman You guys don't whisper well...

user1 That bathing suit is so cute. Where did you get it, @/Y/N.Y/L?

Y/N.Y/L Thank you! I got it on Amazon

@/Y/N.Y/L Brunch time!

Tagged @/olliebearman, @/arthur_leclerc

Liked by @/olliebearman, @/arthur_leclerc, @/paularon_, and 15,963 others

olliebearman Thanks for inviting us out. Love you <3

Y/N.Y/L Love you <3

paularon_ I wasn't invited?

arthur_leclerc I wish you were. Third wheeling is not fun

Y/N.Y/L Sorry, A. Next time we'll invite @/paularon_ to keep you company

paularon_ Woo, thanks Y/N!

charles_leclerc When's a good time for me to pick up my cookie?

Y/N.Y/L Anytime within the next couple of days. Someone should be home to give it to you

arthur_leclerc That's who the final cookie was for? My brother?

Y/N.Y/L Yeah, I had to pay him back for getting me the ice cream last week

@/Y/N.Y/L HAPPY 18TH BIRTHDAY, OLLIE! I hope you have a great day (and a great year). I love you, my bear!

Tagged @/olliebearman

Liked by @/olliebearman, @/prema_team, and 24,957 others

olliebearman Thank you, babe. I love you too!

Y/N.Y/L <3

user1 That bear candle is so cute!

prema_team Happy birthday, Ollie!

Liked by @/olliebearman, @/Y/N.Y/L

user2 Get you a significant other who cheers you on as much as Y/N cheers on Ollie

user3 Happy b-day, Ollie!