#define getting off the grid

[reasonsforhope]

Green energy is in its heyday. 

Renewable energy sources now account for 22% of the nation’s electricity, and solar has skyrocketed eight times over in the last decade. This spring in California, wind, water, and solar power energy sources exceeded expectations, accounting for an average of 61.5 percent of the state's electricity demand across 52 days. 

But green energy has a lithium problem. Lithium batteries control more than 90% of the global grid battery storage market. 

That’s not just cell phones, laptops, electric toothbrushes, and tools. Scooters, e-bikes, hybrids, and electric vehicles all rely on rechargeable lithium batteries to get going. 

Fortunately, this past week, Natron Energy launched its first-ever commercial-scale production of sodium-ion batteries in the U.S. 

“Sodium-ion batteries offer a unique alternative to lithium-ion, with higher power, faster recharge, longer lifecycle and a completely safe and stable chemistry,” said Colin Wessells — Natron Founder and Co-CEO — at the kick-off event in Michigan. 

The new sodium-ion batteries charge and discharge at rates 10 times faster than lithium-ion, with an estimated lifespan of 50,000 cycles.

Wessells said that using sodium as a primary mineral alternative eliminates industry-wide issues of worker negligence, geopolitical disruption, and the “questionable environmental impacts” inextricably linked to lithium mining. 

“The electrification of our economy is dependent on the development and production of new, innovative energy storage solutions,” Wessells said. 

Why are sodium batteries a better alternative to lithium?

The birth and death cycle of lithium is shadowed in environmental destruction. The process of extracting lithium pollutes the water, air, and soil, and when it’s eventually discarded, the flammable batteries are prone to bursting into flames and burning out in landfills. 

There’s also a human cost. Lithium-ion materials like cobalt and nickel are not only harder to source and procure, but their supply chains are also overwhelmingly attributed to hazardous working conditions and child labor law violations. 

Sodium, on the other hand, is estimated to be 1,000 times more abundant in the earth’s crust than lithium. 

“Unlike lithium, sodium can be produced from an abundant material: salt,” engineer Casey Crownhart wrote ​​in the MIT Technology Review. “Because the raw ingredients are cheap and widely available, there’s potential for sodium-ion batteries to be significantly less expensive than their lithium-ion counterparts if more companies start making more of them.”

What will these batteries be used for?

Right now, Natron has its focus set on AI models and data storage centers, which consume hefty amounts of energy. In 2023, the MIT Technology Review reported that one AI model can emit more than 626,00 pounds of carbon dioxide equivalent. 

“We expect our battery solutions will be used to power the explosive growth in data centers used for Artificial Intelligence,” said Wendell Brooks, co-CEO of Natron. 

“With the start of commercial-scale production here in Michigan, we are well-positioned to capitalize on the growing demand for efficient, safe, and reliable battery energy storage.”

The fast-charging energy alternative also has limitless potential on a consumer level, and Natron is eying telecommunications and EV fast-charging once it begins servicing AI data storage centers in June. 

On a larger scale, sodium-ion batteries could radically change the manufacturing and production sectors — from housing energy to lower electricity costs in warehouses, to charging backup stations and powering electric vehicles, trucks, forklifts, and so on. 

“I founded Natron because we saw climate change as the defining problem of our time,” Wessells said. “We believe batteries have a role to play.”

-via GoodGoodGood, May 3, 2024

--

Note: I wanted to make sure this was legit (scientifically and in general), and I'm happy to report that it really is! x, x, x, x

[cressidagrey]

Oscar vs. Influencers

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Felicity Leong-Piastri (Original Character)

Summary:   Oscar Piastri suffers through the Miami GP after the wife reveal. 

Warnings and Notes: Is this particularly believable? No. Did it amuse me very much while writing it? Heck yes.

Big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble 😂

Oscar Piastri was being hunted.

Not by rival teams. Not by journalists. Not even by tyre degradation.

No — Oscar was being hunted by influencers.

Miami brought with it the usual mix of pastel linen suits, unnecessarily loud music, and people who said things like “I was manifesting this grid walk, babe.”

 The hospitality suite looked like a Coachella afterparty collided with a DRS zone.

And now that the internet knew he had a wife, Oscar had gone from “quiet Australian with great racecraft” to “hot F1 husband with ✨mysterious wife energy✨.”

Which apparently meant content.

If Oscar had known the full consequences of Lando’s “you’re married?” fan stage meltdown, he might’ve faked laryngitis for the next six Grands Prix.

He’d barely stepped out of the McLaren hospitality unit when the first wave hit: pastel crop tops, oversized sunglasses, ring lights. At least three people shouted “OMG is that the Wife Guy??” as he walked past.

He blinked. “The what?”

“You know!” a girl shrieked, clutching her phone. “You’re the one with the wife! Like, actual wife! Who fixes cars!”

Oscar gave her a very neutral thumbs-up and kept walking.

The McLaren PR handler caught up with him just before the social content area, looking mildly apologetic.

“Couple TikTokers want to ask you about Felicity. Quick interviews. Just smile and be charming.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Define couple.”

“Eleven.”

He stared. “That’s not a couple.”

“It is in Miami.”

***

“Hey man,” said the first one, who had a ring light clipped to his phone and a bleach job that looked sponsored, “you’re the one with the mystery wife, right?”

Oscar blinked. “I have a wife, yes.”

“Right, right,” the guy said, nodding like they were old friends. “Dude. So cool that you kept it, like, private. You guys live off-grid or something?”

“We live in a farmhouse,” Oscar said drily. “But don’t worry, it has working electricity by now.”

***

One influencer in a sequined dress held out a phone and went, “Okay, for my followers: can you just say ‘hi, Felicity’ and blow her a kiss? It’ll be so cute.”

“No, thank you,” Oscar said politely. 

***

“Heyyy Oscar! Quick question for my TikTok!” Another one chirped. “You’re like—married, married, right? Like with a ring and everything?”

He blinked. “That’s usually how it works.”

“Okay, love that for you. Soooo, if your wife and your car were both hanging off a cliff, who are you saving first?”

Oscar’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.

“…Why are they both on a cliff?”

Lando, walking by, snorted water out his nose.

The influencer giggled. “It’s for content.”

Oscar, deadpan: “My wife would’ve already fixed the car and built a pulley system to save herself.”

***

Someone tried to get him to duet a thirst trap soundbite with the caption “he drives fast but will he let me ride shotgun 🏎️✨”

He told them he was married.

They said: “Even better.”

***

Ten minutes later, he was cornered by someone with a bejewelled microphone shaped like a Martini glass.

“Hi Oscar!! Can we do a rapid-fire TikTok? It’s called Pia or Nah, and you just tell us if something fits your vibe.”

“Sure,” he said, already regretting it.

“Okay! Number one: beach holidays with the boys.”

“Nah.”

“Private track day with your wife.”

“Pia.”

“Throuple with Lando and your wife?”

Oscar deadpanned into the camera. “I will walk into the sea.”

***

A woman in very impractical stiletto sandals  and a two-piece linen set leaned toward him, phone already recording.

“Hi,” she said brightly. “Can I ask you a question for TikTok?”

He nodded, resigned.

“If your wife was a car, what car would she beeee?”

Oscar blinked. “...A fully electric car with a torque limit override and illegal suspension mods.”

She looked horrified. “Oh. I thought you were gonna say like… a Ferrari.”

“I don’t think she’d appreciate being compared to an Italian diva with overheating issues.”

Somewhere nearby, someone in a bucket hat said, “Damn,” and fist-bumped him.

***

Three interviews later, Oscar was approached by a lifestyle vlogger with 2.3 million followers and many questions.

“So like, tell me about your wife. What does she doooo?”

“She’s a mechanical engineer,” Oscar said, bracing.

“Oh my god, cute! Like… design aesthetic or?”

“She builds cars.”

“Ohh. Like… model cars?”

“She rebuilt a gearbox last month using a welding rig she made in her garage.”

The vlogger blinked.

“Do you have a quote I can use where you say she’s, like, a girlboss?”

Oscar’s mouth twitched. “She’s not a girlboss. She’s a terrifyingly competent woman with a spreadsheet for every major purchase we’ve ever made and a ‘death to insufficient torque settings’ sticker on her laptop.”

“…Do you think she’d want to collab?”

Oscar smiled politely. “No.”

***

In the McLaren hospitality tent, things did not improve.

An Instagrammer with a pastel clipboard cornered him during lunch.

“So! Oscar! Would your wife ever do a couples Q&A video?”

“No.”

“Even if it was like... Vogue’s 73 Questions style?”

“Still a no.”

“Oh.”

***

“If Felicity was an F1 circuit, which one would she be and why?”

Oscar exhaled. “Suzuka. Elegant. Precise.”

***

“You’re the one with the secret wife, right?” the guy said brightly, holding a mic like he was covering the Met Gala.

Oscar blinked. “I’m also the one who just did a long run on mediums, but sure, let’s go with that.”

The man laughed like he didn’t register sarcasm. “Can I get a soundbite? The fans are obsessed. A wife? It’s giving ‘mystery Australian who moonlights as a world-class driver.’”

“…That’s oddly specific.”

“Your wife’s an engineer, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Like, actual engineer or lifestyle-influencer-who-says-she-builds-things?”

Oscar's eye twitched. “She has a mechanical engineering degree and welds brake calipers for fun.”

The man gasped. “That’s so hot.”

Oscar turned and walked away.

***

There were cameras everywhere. Ring lights. Someone was holding a tiny dog wearing Red Bull merch. Another had a clipboard titled “Content We Must Force Drivers To Say” in Comic Sans.

Lando was thriving.

Oscar was… present.

“So tell us,” an influencer named Kiki (maybe? she’d introduced herself three times), purred into a camera, “what does a day in the life of Oscar Piastri look like, now that you’re, like, married-married?”

Oscar blinked. “I eat toast. I drive a car. I also enjoy tea.”

Lando nearly choked on his drink.

“And your wife?” Kiki asked, leaning in like she was about to extract state secrets. “She’s… kind of an icon right now. TikTok loves her.”

“I’m sure she’s thrilled,” Oscar deadpanned.

“Do you guys do, like, couple content?”

“No.”

“What’s her vibe?”

“Quiet competence and structural integrity.”

***

Martin Brundle cornered him between two celebrities Oscar absolutely didn’t recognize.

“Oscar! Quick word—this has been quite the media cycle for you. Married!  How has that been for your mental game this weekend?”

Oscar smiled politely. “I don’t think my brake bias cares.”

“And how’s the wife handling the attention?”

“My wife is busy rebuilding a ‘67 Alfa Romeo Spider currently. I think she’s doing just fine.”

“Is she taking interview requests?”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “You can ask. Just make sure your insurance covers bruised egos.”

***

Oscar, clinging to the last shreds of his sanity, kept responding with the emotional range of a man being asked if tires are round.

“Yes.” “Since 2019.” “No, she’s not here.” “Yes, she exists.” “No, we’re not doing a ‘Wife Reveal’ on a podcast.”

***

Later, he escaped to the media pen for what he assumed would be slightly less surreal.

He was wrong. 

The first one came from Sky Sports.

“So Oscar,” the interviewer said brightly, “we have to ask—everyone’s been buzzing about the fan stage moment last week. How long have you been married?”

Oscar blinked. “Since 2019.”

“Wow. Quiet ceremony?”

“Very.”

“Any reason you kept it under wraps all these years?”

He shrugged. “Never under wraps. Just not public. There’s a difference.”

***

F1TV was next: 

“Oscar, would you say Felicity is your good luck charm?”

“No,” he said. “She’s my wife. She’s an engineer. She’s a whole human. She’s not a charm.”

A brief pause. Then someone scribbled that down like it was a quote for a wedding invitation.

***

A lifestyle magazine rep who definitely snuck into the paddock: 

“So Oscar, marriage at 18—did you feel ready?”

Oscar stared for a second too long. “I was more ready for that than I was for my first F2 wet quali.”

“But seriously—how does it work? With the travel, the schedule?”

Oscar paused, then gave the most honest answer of the day.

“It works because she makes it work. Felicity’s… brilliant. She’s the reason I have a home to come back to. She’s been part of every step of this. Not behind me—beside me.”

The interviewer blinked.

Oscar shrugged. “I know everyone’s surprised. But she’s never been a secret. She’s just mine.”

***

Five minutes later:

“Oscar, hi! We were just wondering if married life has changed your approach in the car at all?”

Oscar stared at the reporter. “How would it change how I take Eau Rouge?”

“Well, more cautious, maybe? More mature?”

“No.” Oscar said calmly. “My wife knows exactly what this job entails and she knew what she signed up for.”

***

Another interviewer: 

“You’ve been described as ‘F1’s most unexpectedly married man.’ Thoughts?”

Oscar actually laughed at that one. “I guess I’ll take it over ‘most unexpectedly slow.’”

***

And another: 

“Is it true your wife’s a mechanic?”

“She’s a mechanical engineer,” he corrected. “And yes.”

“Do you guys talk about race data at dinner?”

“Sometimes,” he said. “She does makes fun of my hand position on hairpins though.”

“Does she have a favourite team?”

Oscar smiled faintly. “Yes. Whichever one I’m driving for.”

***

And then, finally:

“Oscar—how did you keep her a secret all this time?”

Oscar paused. Adjusted his cap. “She wasn’t a secret. Just private.”

“But no one knew—”

“Right, but that’s you not knowing. Not me hiding.”

The reporter blinked, flustered.

Oscar gave them a tired smile. “Next question, please.”

***

By the end of his third interview block, Oscar had answered some version of “so tell us about your wife!” Three dozen separate times.

He was this close to walking into the McLaren garage, finding Lando, and throwing a telemetry laptop at him.

“People used to ask about race pace,” Oscar muttered to his press officer.

“People still ask,” she replied. “Right after they’re done trying to figure out how you hid a whole marriage.”

He sighed. “We weren’t hiding.”

“You realise you’re the first driver in years to be married before your rookie season?”

***

Back in the garage, Lando greeted him, smiling way too much.

“How’d it go?”

Oscar glared. “I hate you.”

Lando snorted. “They ask about your mystery wife?”

“Every single time. Even when I tried to pivot to strategy.”

“Classic deflection,” Lando grinned. “Didn’t work, huh?”

Oscar just mutely shook his head. 

“I can’t believe I was the one who exposed a whole marriage,” he said, gleeful.

“You didn’t expose anything,” Oscar muttered, passing by him.

“I brought joy to the internet, Oscar. You’re welcome.”

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/formulafreakgirl: Oscar Piastri showed up to media day looking like he hadn't slept in three days and spent most of it fending off TikTokers with nothing but sarcasm and marital loyalty. 10/10. Would watch again.

@/f1memequeen: oscar piastri: mentions wife the internet: unlocks a new level of thirst also oscar: “she has a death to insufficient torque settings sticker on her laptop” me: 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

@/lanstappenfiles: lando: wait you’re MARRIED?? oscar: since 2019 lando: the grid: the internet:

@/drivertospousepipeline: being oscar’s wife must be so peaceful. you just fix gearboxes, raise chickens, bake sourdough, and occasionally rebuild a car while your husband fends off influencers on a pastel couch in miami.

@/slowpitstop: “she’s not a girlboss. she’s a terrifyingly competent woman with a spreadsheet for every major purchase and a torque limit sticker on her laptop.” — oscar piastri the rest of the grid: single. silent. afraid.

@/pitwallcryptid: oscar said his wife’s vibe is “structural integrity” and “quiet competence” and i don’t think i’ve ever heard anything sexier in my life??? like ok drywall daddy

@/susiekarenstan: the interviewer: "if your wife and your car were hanging off a cliff—" oscar: "why are they both on a cliff." girl. i am SOBBING. his brain is literally aerodynamic.

@/throttlemistress: idc about championships. oscar won miami gp media day by mentally walking into the sea after a tiktok thirst trap asked if he wanted a throuple with lando and his wife.

@/piastrify: “she’s never been a secret. she’s just mine.” yes bestie give them functional emotional communication and healthy marriage dynamics domestic king 👑

@/charlesleclerrideordie: can’t believe oscar’s villain origin story is “my teammate outed my marriage on a fan stage and now i have to talk about my wife with people holding microphones shaped like martini glasses.”

@/gridgossipguru: BREAKING: oscar piastri confirms wife exists, is not a figment of our collective girl math hallucination, and does not want to collab on your TikTok.

@/oscarstirewarmers: oscar after 37 interviews about his wife: “she’s not a charm. she’s a whole human.” me: okay mr. feminist husband i see you 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

@/thatgirlinthepaddock: can we please get felicity a podcast where she explains how she builds cars  and dodges media like a legend. call it she’s just my wife: the woman behind the wrench

@/f1spice: everyone else: talking tyres and upgrades Oscar Piastri: “My wife rebuilt a gearbox with a homemade welding rig” me: 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

@/mclarenupdates: Oscar being asked “if your car and your wife were hanging off a cliff, who would you save?” Oscar: “why are they on a cliff?” Real.

@/tik_tok_torque: not a single influencer has recovered from “my wife would’ve already built a pulley system to save herself.” the chokehold this man has.

@/suzukahive: he said she’s Suzuka. SUZUKA. elegant. precise. emotionally devastating.

@/chaoticpitwall: f1tv: “would you say Felicity is your good luck charm?” Oscar: “she’s a whole human.” the bar is on the floor and yet he cartwheeled over it.

@/vibeygp: “quiet competence and structural integrity” is now the new gold standard for love confessions. don’t talk to me unless you think I’m Suzuka.

@/landosthighlights: lando watching oscar get chased by tiktokers for being secretly married for 5 years: 😈 lando 2 minutes after: “i discovered the mystery wife. i deserve credit.” somebody stop this man.

@/girldownforgrip: every interviewer: “so why did you keep your wife a secret?” Oscar: “she wasn’t a secret. she was private.” me: 🫡🫡🫡

@/wecrunchdata: “my wife is the reason I have a home to come back to” “not behind me — beside me.” sir????

@/felicityfanbot01: petition to get Felicity on a paddock walk so she can throw one (1) perfectly timed side-eye and send 10 influencers into an existential crisis.

@/formulaferal: he said she has a “death to insufficient torque settings” sticker on her laptop and now I’m in love with BOTH of them.

@/dtsdisaster: “next question please.” —Oscar Piastri, gently eviscerating a journalist trying to spin a wife reveal into a conspiracy.

@/piastriparadise: Oscar is just a little husband man who wants to drive his car, eat toast, and be married in peace. Miami said no ❤️

@/gridgossip:

Interviewer: is your wife a Ferrari?

Oscar: absolutely not.

Oscar: she’d hate being compared to an Italian diva with overheating issues.

me: [choking on air]

@/f1witches:

“Not behind me—beside me.”

I screamed. I kicked my feet. I believe in love again.

@/oscsoftboypiastri:

Oscar Piastri being hunted by influencers in pastel co-ords is not the media day I expected but it’s the media day I NEEDED.

@/piastriupdates: they keep asking oscar about his wife like she’s an urban legend and this man is just standing there with 12% battery going “she’s an engineer. we eat toast. next question.”

@/tikf1tokqueen:

did oscar really say felicity is like suzuka because she’s elegant and precise. did he REALLY.

someone sedate me I’m too emotionally compromised

@/spannersandspreadsheets:

the more i learn about felicity piastri the more convinced i am she could outpace half the grid in a 1982 rally car she rebuilt in a barn

@/formulafemmes:

the fact that oscar:

– married her at 18

– kept her private but never a “secret”

– immediately corrected “girlboss” to “terrifyingly competent woman”

– said “she makes it possible for me to do this job”

I’m sorry I need to lie down

@/f1_fangirl007:

i’m not saying i’d read a 300k slow burn fanfic about oscar and felicity but. i WOULD read a 300k slow burn fanfic about oscar and felicity.

@/felicityfan27:

her IG has 20 posts and one is just a sourdough starter named Nigel. i’m in love.

@/landozipped:

lando exposing oscar's marriage was a historical event actually. like. the louis tomlinson pigeon video. or beyoncé’s pregnancy reveal.

@/brundleburner:

not Martin Brundle being like “how’s the wife handling the attention?” and Oscar going “she’s rebuilding a ‘67 Alfa Romeo Spider.” we are not the same.

@/wheeltoleclerc:

not oscar rejecting a vogue-style couples interview, a ‘hi felicity’ tiktok, AND a “save your wife or your car off a cliff” question within 20 mins.

he is 1) tired 2) married 3) Done™

@/felicitypiastriunofficial: petition for mclaren to hand oscar’s wife a racing suit and let her do a hot lap in the Artura while oscar holds her sourdough starter on the sidelines

***

Text Messages: Oscar Piastri & Mark Webber

Mark: Heard you did 73 interviews and said “I have a wife” in 68 of them.

Oscar: 69 actually. F1TV asked twice.

Mark: Beautiful. Your media training has peaked. Next step: hand out wedding invites at press conferences.

Oscar: I swear if one more person calls her a girlboss I’m going to fake a hamstring injury and disappear into the Floridian swamp.

Mark: Should’ve seen this coming, mate. You did marry a genius and hide her in a cottage like a fairytale side quest.

Oscar: We weren’t hiding. Just… vibing in obscurity.

Mark: Tell that to the influencer who tried to ask if she was a Ferrari.

Oscar: She heard that one and said “I’m not red and fragile, thanks.”

Mark: Tell her I love her. Also: have you considered letting her do your media next time?

Oscar: She’d dismantle the mic setup and rewire the paddock sound system out of spite.

Mark: And that’s why I signed you. Because clearly you know how to pick your team.

***

Group Chat: Piastri Fam ❤️

Hattie OSCAR.

Edie OH MY GOD.

Mae "Quiet competence and structural integrity"????

Hattie Are you in love or writing a building code?

Oscar Good morning to you too

Nicole

I thought you were just doing media day today?

Why is the entire internet trying to flirt with my married son? Also, Sweetheart, are you okay? You looked like you were being hunted.

Mae Did you say she has a torque override and illegal suspension mods IS THAT HOW YOU DESCRIBE YOUR WIFE TO STRANGERS?

Oscar Can I not do one race weekend without becoming a meme

Hattie Not when you’re out here like: “my wife rebuilt a gearbox and could kill you with a torque wrench 😐”

Edie Honestly you’ve got big Victorian husband energy. “My beloved doesn’t speak to the press. She is too powerful.”

Nicole: Sweetheart, I love you. But how did we go from “quiet boy from Melbourne” to “mystery F1 sex symbol” in one race weekend?

Oscar: I don’t know. I hate it here.

Chris: I just googled “TikTok thirst trap oscar piastri” and now I’m emotionally unwell.

Oscar: WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT DAD

Mae:

Also: “She’s not a good luck charm. She’s a whole human.”

When did you become so quotable??

You used to say "broccoli makes me sad" with full sincerity.

Oscar: Still does.

Chris: Mate. You are absolutely not living this down. Ever. You’ve become TikTok’s favourite unintentional husband

Nicole Is Felicity okay? I know she hates this kind of attention.

Oscar She hasn’t checked TikTok. She’s currently pressure-testing a brake line and telling Bee to drink more water.

Hattie Tell your terrifying engineer wife I love her.

Mae You realise you're NEVER going to live this down, right?

Oscar I didn’t even do anything.

Edie Exactly. You didn’t even try. And now you’re “Mr. Private Soft Husband With a Gearbox Goddess Wife” and TikTok’s screaming.

Nicole: Also what is this about her being Suzuka??

Chris: Elegant. Precise. High-speed technical excellence. ...Good answer, mate.

Oscar: Thank you.

***

GRID GROUP CHAT

Max: oscar. mate. “quiet competence and structural integrity”????

Lando: I HAVE BEEN LAUGHING FOR TEN MINUTES he described his wife like she’s a suspension system 😭

George: That’s the most Piastri love language I’ve ever heard do you whisper aerodynamics at her too??

Charles: “death to insufficient torque settings” sticker 😭 bro i’m scared of her and i haven’t even met her

Lewis: as you should be. sounds like she’s got more discipline than half the pit wall

Carlos: i want to know if she’s the reason your gearbox never fails

Esteban: so no couples Q&A? 😔 Mon dieu. I had questions.

Lando: “she’s not a girlboss she’s a terrifyingly competent woman” print that on a t-shirt

Yuki: i want to meet her she sounds scary i like her

Zhou: you’re telling me she roasts your hand position on hairpins?? that’s love

Esteban: do we think she does driver coaching asking for… um. a friend.

Max: I’m still stuck on “death to insufficient torque settings” that’s the energy we need in the garage

Kevin: Oscar blink twice if you married your team’s actual chief mechanic

Nico: plot twist: Oscar’s wife is the reason the McLaren upgrades work

Daniel: Has anyone actually seen her or is she just a really intense AI program that builds gearboxes and bakes sourdough

Oscar: I hate all of you.

Alex: someone asked him if his wife was a real engineer and he hit them with “she rebuilt a gearbox with a custom welding rig” ICONIC.

Esteban: you are married to Tony Stark but scarier and with chickens

Pierre: just say you're in love man no need to flex her CV

Yuki: does she do freelance? my espresso machine is broken

Logan: no but really why does the internet love her more than you now?

Oscar: probably because she’s not in this chat

Valtteri: tell her she has my respect. and also I’d like a sourdough starter recipe

Lando: HE WAS CALLED “THE WIFE GUY” IN THE PADDOCK i’m never letting this go. NEVER.

Oscar: reminder that you are the reason this went public

Lando: and i would do it again 🫡

***

The only moment of peace came that night, back in the hotel, when Oscar FaceTimed home and Bee answered with a wide grin and peanut butter on her nose.

“Mama says no carburetors until I eat some of my vegetables.”

Felicity leaned into the frame behind her, hair tied up in a bandana. “Your daughter tried to climb the kitchen counter to build her own rear wing.”

Oscar smiled.

The internet could call him Wife Guy. The media could throw questions at him between FP1 and FP2. The influencers could manifest chaos all they liked.

As long as this was waiting for him at the end of the day?

He’d survive Miami just fine.

[whisperedmeg]

QUIET PROOF ―.✦ s.r. soft animal series ∘ part v

pairing: spencer reid x fem!nurse!reader

summary: a morning ambush from spencer’s friends tests a bond still forming. when doubt creeps in, love answers — not loudly, but clearly.

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

w/c: 2.7k

tags/warnings: post-prison spencer, vague talk of intimacy but nothing explicit, jj and garcia being cutie nosy bffs, reader gets insecure and anxious and spirals a bit, spencer is a reassuring sweetie pie

a/n: this one goes out to all my fellow anxious girlies with a words of affirmation love language. as always, appreciate all comments/likes/reblogs more than I can even express! thank you sm to everyone who has followed this series so far 🫶🏼

series masterlist

I woke to the faint weight of sunlight brushing my face through the thin curtains, soft and gentle like a secret only the morning knew. For a moment, I laid still, feeling the steady rhythm of Spencer’s breath against my back, the warmth of his body curled close. Something had shifted between us overnight — I could feel it in the quiet spaces, in the way he hadn’t pulled away, hadn’t spoken, yet didn’t quite let himself relax, either.

Neither of us said a word. We didn’t have to. The air between us hummed with a tentative understanding — maybe hope, maybe fear — and I wasn’t sure which of us would break the silence first.

I traced lazy circles on his arm. His hand found mine, fingers curling around mine with a softness that made my chest ache in the best way. I smiled into the quiet, this small bubble of peace we’d started creating together.

Things started to lean toward something more — a brush of lips, the slow heat of skin meeting skin — when suddenly, there was a loud knock at his front door.

“Shit,” he muttered, pulling away and scrambling out of bed. “I wasn’t expecting anyone. I’m sorry.”

He padded quickly across the room in just his boxers, trying to finger-comb his hair into something less Einstein-like. From the other side of the apartment, voices drifted in.

“Hey, Spence,” a woman called through the door. “You’ve been kind of off the grid lately, so we thought we’d drop by.”

“And by ‘drop by,’ she means ambush,” another voice added, singsong. “Hi, boy genius. Don’t mind us. We just want to make sure you’re still alive.”

Spencer winced. “It’s JJ and Garcia,” he whispered, looking like he might spontaneously combust. “They’re my colleagues. I haven’t, um, told them… about you.”

I silently thanked some invisible force of the universe for convincing me I should wear shorts under his t-shirt last night instead of just my underwear.

“I figured,” I said, sitting up and clutching the sheet tighter. “Do you want me to, like, hide under the bed, or should I just pretend I sleepwalked into the wrong apartment?”

His face crumpled into a smile — nervous, but genuine. “I don’t want to hide you. Just… maybe wait a second before you come out.” He finished pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt before walking out of the bedroom.

He walked to the front of his apartment and unlocked the door. “Morning,” he said, and I heard the practiced calm in his voice. “Everything okay?”

The more colorful blonde woman — Penelope Garcia, I guessed, based on photos he’d shown me — didn’t even pause. “Define okay. We’ve texted, we’ve called. You didn’t show up to our standing monthly brunch on Sunday!”

“I’ve just… been here,” Spencer said, clearly trying not to panic. “Taking time.”

The other woman, who I assumed had to be JJ, narrowed her eyes. “Time for what?”

That was when I moved. I wasn’t sure why — I could’ve stayed hidden — but something in me didn’t want to. Maybe it was the warmth still clinging to me from the way Spencer had held me all night. Maybe it was just that I liked knowing where I stood. So I stepped quietly into view, hair still a mess, heart thudding like a drumline, blanket wrapped around me like a fluffy shield. “Um. Hi,” I said, voice soft and a little shy and awkward, but steady.

Garcia froze mid-expression, her mouth hanging open before she clamped it shut. JJ blinked once, then tilted her head.

Spencer stammered out an awkward laugh. He ran a hand through his hair and introduced me, motioning for me to come stand next to him.

JJ’s eyes flicked from me to him, then back again. “Nice to meet you,” she said, visibly recalibrating. Her smile settled into something kind. “Sorry to barge in like this. We didn’t know Spencer was seeing someone.”

Garcia, clearly never one to resist a dramatic pause, took a breath and beamed. “You are a vision. Spencer Reid, I did not see this plot twist coming. When on earth did you find the time to meet someone?!”

I laughed, a little startled by how easily they both made space for me. “Sorry for the surprise. This is not how I usually meet people,” I said as I gestured towards my overall messy appearance. “And definitely not how I planned on meeting Spencer’s friends.”

“Trust me, it’s not even in the top three weirdest ways we’ve met some of Spencer’s acquaintances,” JJ teased.

Spencer groaned and rubbed his eyes. “Do you guys want coffee?”

“Yes, please,” Garcia said, already stepping inside and handing JJ her purse. “I also want answers, but I’ll wait until we all have some caffeine. I’m not a total monster.”

JJ followed her in with a smile. “This won’t be an interrogation, by the way. We’re just… protective. He’s family.”

“I get that,” I said, glancing at Spencer, who gave me a quick smile over his shoulder as he started pouring water into the coffee pot. “I’m the same way with people I care about.”

We all made our way to the kitchen, where I perched on a stool, still wrapped in a blanket like some kind of toga-clad guest on a morning show. Garcia was already scouring Spencer’s cabinets for mugs.

“So,” she began, “how did you two meet?”

“I’m a nurse,” I replied. Once her blank stare made me realize that my response didn’t actually answer her question, I cleared my throat with an awkward laugh. “At, uh, Millburn. I’m a nurse in the infirmary there.”

That made JJ glance up from where she was doctoring her coffee. “Really? That’s how you two met?”

I nodded. There was a pause — not an uncomfortable one, just a moment of absorption.

“Huh,” Garcia said. “Well, that’s a meet-cute I did not see coming.”

Spencer made a small coughing sound and handed me a mug like he needed to redirect his awkward energy somewhere.

JJ looked at me for a second longer. “That couldn’t have been easy. For either of you.”

“It wasn’t,” Spencer chimed in. “But that part is over now.”

JJ leaned back against the counter. “I’m glad you had someone looking out for you in there,” she said to Spencer.

“I did,” he said quietly. “She’s the one who got me moved out of gen pop, actually. It was her medical report that convinced the warden to put me in protective custody.”

Both women looked at me with something resembling awe and gratitude in their expressions, then we moved along to sipping our coffees.

There was another short pause, broken when Garcia pulled her phone out of her purse and wiggled it dramatically. “Okay. So. About that reinstatement news.”

Spencer groaned. “Penelope…”

“I didn’t break into anything,” she insisted, holding up her hands. “I just… peeked. And word on the encrypted street is, you’re about two weeks away from an official decision. And it’s definitely looking like it’s leaning positive.”

Spencer looked stunned for a second — hope and fear battling quietly in his eyes. He didn’t say anything right away, just nodded slowly.

JJ stepped closer, resting a hand on Spencer’s arm. “Whatever happens, we’re here. Okay? You’re not alone.”

“I know,” he said. His voice cracked a little.

We finished our coffee slowly, the conversation drifting toward lighter things — Garcia’s latest side project (something involving 3D printed dog collars?), JJ’s boys (Spencer’s godsons, I learned) and their ever-expanding collection of Nerf weapons, and the absurdity of trying to explain to anyone outside the BAU what their job actually was. They asked me more questions about myself, but it didn’t feel like an inquisition. It felt like they genuinely cared to know about this new mysterious person in their friend’s life.

Eventually, they stood to go, giving Spencer gentle hugs and me a warm goodbye.

Garcia leaned in, her voice low and conspiratorial. “Take care of our boy, okay?”

“I will,” I said, meaning it.

And when they were gone, when the door closed behind them, I looked at Spencer, finally releasing the breath I’d been holding since they first knocked.

“I think they like you,” he said.

I smiled, letting out a sigh of relief tinged with joy. “I like them, too.”

And I liked him. More than I knew how to say. But maybe, for now, this was enough.

—

It had been one week since JJ and Garcia had shown up on Spencer’s doorstep, bright-eyed and suspicious and exactly as wonderful as I’d hoped his friends would be. One week since I stood in his kitchen in a blanket toga, answering soft but pointed questions over coffee. One week since Penelope squeezed my hand and told me to take care of “their boy,” and JJ gave me a look that said she saw me.

In the days that followed, everything had both shifted and stayed the same.

Spencer had his final psych eval with the Bureau. I worked more shifts at Millburn. And each night, I came back to him — or he came back to me — and we made a quiet ritual out of not saying too much about what any of it meant. We kissed until our lungs burned, explored each other’s bodies with hands and mouths that knew how to be reverent. There were moans and whispers, and the dizzying pleasure of being skin-to-skin. But still — no sex. Not yet. Sometimes he’d stop suddenly, forehead pressed to my collarbone, murmuring that he needed a minute. I always gave him one. Sometimes two.

It wasn’t unspoken. But it also wasn’t discussed. It just… was. That boundary had become part of our rhythm. He didn’t rush, and I didn’t press. We were building something with our hearts and hands before letting our bodies finish the story.

Tonight, we laid tangled on his couch, a half-watched documentary playing quietly on the screen — something about extinct languages that I could only follow for about five minutes before getting lost; classic Spencer fare. He was behind me, his arm looped around my waist, and I was tucked back against him like a comma in the sentence of his body. He traced shapes into my hip bone like his fingers were thinking out loud.

But for some reason, my mind wouldn’t still. A silly, passing comment he made earlier about how nice of a person I am tugged at the taut wires in my brain. I stared at the blue light of the TV and tried to focus on the narrator’s voice, the familiar cadence of academia. It was useless, though — my thoughts had already started spiraling.

Spencer always called me beautiful. Kind. Wonderful. Nice. But those words were just broad strokes. They didn’t feel anchored in who I was, not really. He hadn’t said why he liked me, just that he did. And part of me — the part that had built walls and lived too long inside my own overthinking — started whispering dangerous little questions.

What if I was just… convenient? What if I was the safest thing he’d had in a long time, and he was mistaking that for something else? Sure, he looked at me like I was something precious. But that didn’t mean he knew me.

Maybe everything he thought he felt for me was just transference. Maybe I was just the person who kept him from unraveling in prison, and now he didn’t know how to let go.

I felt my body begin to tense. My breathing grew shallow. My chest ached with the weight of my own unworthiness — a feeling I thought I’d outgrown, but apparently not.

Behind me, Spencer shifted.

“Hey,” he murmured, pausing the documentary. The room fell into a soft hush. “You just disappeared. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I said automatically, eyes fixed ahead. “Just thinking.”

His hand brushed my side. “You’re shaking.”

I hadn’t realized I was. My throat tightened. “I don’t want to ruin this,” I whispered.

“You won’t.”

“I just… sometimes I think maybe this isn’t what I think it is. Like maybe you only feel any sense of attachment to me because of what I was to you in there.”

Silence. My shame filled the space between us like smoke.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low but steady. “Please look at me.”

I turned, hesitantly, until we were face to face. His eyes searched mine like they were scanning for injuries — soft, deliberate, full of that quiet panic he always tried to hide when someone he cared about was hurting.

“I know it’s stupid, I know I shouldn’t think like that, but… you’ve never actually said what you like about me. You just use words like kind and wonderful, which are very nice things to be called, obviously, but they’re not… they’re not me, not really. I’m terrified this is all just gratitude disguised as something more. Or that one day you’ll stop being grateful and realize I was part of the damage.”

By now my voice had begun to shake, and I was blinking fast. Spencer moved instantly, sitting me up and kneeling in front of me, both hands on my thighs.

“You’re not part of the damage,” he said, and his voice was low and sure. “You’re the reason I made it out of there still believing people could be good. You didn’t just help me survive. You made me want to.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

“I didn’t fall for you because you were kind to me in prison,” he said. “I fell for you because you notice things other people don’t. You read people like I read books — not just with interest, but with care. You’re perceptive. Sharp. You ask good questions. You make people feel seen.

“I fell for you because you see me, exactly as I am. And you don’t ever flinch. You don’t try to fix me or save me. You just… stay. Even when I pull back. Even when I don’t know how to move forward.”

His voice caught for a second, then steadied again.

“You’re funny, even when you don’t mean to be. You make these little under-your-breath observations that always make me laugh. You help people like it’s instinct, not obligation. And when I panic, you don’t panic with me. You just breathe, and wait, stay, and let me come back.”

Tears pricked hot at the backs of my eyes. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to interrupt.

“I fell for the way you carry things quietly, like your own heart has had to do the heavy lifting too many times but never hardened. I fell for the way you always ask me what I want instead of assuming. And how when you touch me, it never feels like I owe you anything — you touch me simply because you crave my closeness and want me to feel wanted. I fell for your stubbornness, and your calm, and the way being with you feels like home, no matter where we are.”

He paused, eyes locked on mine. “So yeah. I fell for you. I’m grateful for the way you helped me when I was in Millburn, sure, but it’s more than that. I like you. I want you.”

I stared at him, heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. “You fell for me?” I asked, barely more than a whisper.

He nodded with that pure, honest softness only Spencer had. “I did,” he said. “I do. I'm still falling for you. Every day.”

I let out a shaky laugh that was halfway to a sob, my chest cracking wide open. “Good,” I whispered. “Because I’m definitely falling for you, too. So much so that it terrifies me — good terrified, though.”

His expression softened in a way that made my whole body ache. Like my words had knocked something loose in him — or maybe settled something that had been rattling too long.

For a long, quiet moment, we just looked at each other. Breathing. Shaking a little, together.

Then he leaned in slowly, resting his forehead to mine. “You’re not something I’m clinging to. You’re someone I’m choosing.”

And I believed him.

ᝰ.ᐟ

part vi

[jungwnies]

F1 GRID | somewhere along the way, friendship fades

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis : childhood best friends drift apart, their connection fading with time. and years later, meeting again.

୨ৎ : genre : angst, sad themes ୨ৎ : tws : arguing ୨ৎ : word count : 3499

୨ masterlist ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : i was watching "our little secret" on netflix and i got inspired to do this :c def a 10/10 watch

ʚ・max verstappen

the smell of burnt rubber and stroopwafels defined your childhood. growing up as the daughter of one of the engineers, your playground was the karting track, and your partner in crime was max, who seemed to never catch a break. scraped knees, stolen frites, and endless races—it was always a competition. and even though he was faster, you never let him win easily.

“you’re getting slow,” you’d tease when he’d lap you, and he’d fire back, “or maybe you’re just not trying hard enough.”

but childhood doesn’t last forever. as max’s talent propelled him forward, your worlds began to split. he moved to monaco, chasing the formula 1 dream, while you stayed home, building a life far from the roar of engines.

the breaking point came during one of his rare calls. you told him about getting into university, excitement bubbling through the phone.

“that’s great,” he said, but his voice was distant. “i’ve got a strategy meeting. i’ll call you later, okay?”

“but max—”

the line went dead before you could finish.

you never called back. neither did he. the silence was deafening, only broken by headlines about his victories.

years passed. you built your career, surrounded yourself with people who cared about you. still, there was always that quiet ache, a max-shaped hole you couldn’t quite fill.

...

fate intervened in monaco, of all places. a work trip brought you to the grand prix weekend, and there he was—older, sharper, surrounded by reporters. the boy you knew had grown into a man, but the familiar intensity in his blue eyes was still there.

he spotted you, and for a moment, time rewound. “you’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, smirking as he pulled you into a hug.

“you’re really here,” max said, his voice even but his eyes giving him away.

“don’t sound too surprised,” you replied, crossing your arms. “monaco isn’t exactly hard to find, and my dad forced me to accompany him.”

he huffed a laugh, scratching the back of his neck—a gesture you remembered all too well. “it’s just... been a while.”

“whose fault is that?” you shot back, eyebrow raised.

his grin faltered, replaced by something softer, more sincere. “mine,” he admitted, no hesitation. max had never been one to dance around the truth. “i messed up. i thought... if i focused on racing, everything else would just stay in place. but it didn’t. i didn’t.”

you blinked, caught off guard by the honesty. “and now?”

“now?” he shrugged, his lips twitching into a small smirk. “now i know better. or at least, i’m trying to.”

you rolled your eyes, but your chest felt lighter. “trying might actually suit you.”

“don’t push it,” he said, his grin returning. but his hand brushed yours, lingering just long enough to say what words couldn’t.

the two of you walked along the harbor, the chaos of the grand prix fading into the background. max talked about the weight of expectations, the need to prove himself, and you found yourself telling him things you hadn’t said aloud in years.

“you know,” he said eventually, glancing at you, “you were the first person to beat me. that’s why i kept coming back.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “don’t tell me i’m your origin story, verstappen.”

“i’m serious,” he said, his tone light but his gaze steady. “you pushed me. you still do.”

“and you still hate losing,” you replied, your smile widening.

“only to you,” he said, and for once, there was no teasing in his voice—just max, stripped of the bravado.

as the sun dipped below the horizon, you realized the years apart hadn’t erased what you meant to each other. instead, they’d made it clearer. and standing there with him, the boy who always chased the fastest lap and the man who’d finally stopped running, you felt like you’d found your way back home.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

the skate park beneath the london flyover, painted with graffiti and echoing with the rattle of skateboards, was where it all began. you and lewis—two kids with scraped knees and bigger dreams than you dared to say aloud. he was magnetic even then, always the showman, flipping tricks with effortless swagger while you rolled your eyes, trying not to laugh when he wiped out.

“you see that?” he’d grin, brushing off the dust like he hadn’t just landed flat on his back. “one day, everyone will.”

you’d shake your head, hiding your smile. “maybe if you stop showing off and stick the landing.”

those nights under london’s orange-tinted sky were your sanctuary. but dreams have a way of pulling people in different directions. lewis chased his at 200 mph, trading the skate park for circuits around the world. and you? you stayed grounded, carving out a life with your own quiet determination.

the drift wasn’t dramatic, just... inevitable. the calls came less often, the texts faded, and soon the only glimpses you had of him were on tv, his victories splashed across headlines. you were proud, of course, but it didn’t make the distance hurt any less.

years later, the rhythm of a jazz club in soho pulled you in. the smoky air, the hum of conversation—it felt like stepping into another world. and there he was, sitting in the corner, surrounded by friends, his laugh carrying over the music. he looked... different. calmer, more self-assured, the bravado softened into something real.

his eyes met yours across the room, and the recognition was instant. that signature grin spread across his face, and before you could overthink it, he was already walking toward you.

“it’s been a minute,” he said, his voice warm, familiar.

“a few laps around the world, at least,” you replied, crossing your arms but unable to stop your smile.

he introduced you to his friends—musicians, artists, people with the same kind of restless ambition he always had. the conversation flowed easily, stories and laughter filling the gaps left by the years. lewis talked about the weight of being at the top, his growing love for music, fashion, and using his platform for something bigger than himself.

“you’ve always been good at making noise,” you teased, and he laughed, that bright, unrestrained laugh you hadn’t heard in so long.

the night stretched into dawn, the city quieting as he walked you home. the streetlights cast long shadows, and for a moment, it felt like you were kids again, sneaking through the city after curfew.

“you were always my reminder,” he said suddenly, his voice low. “of where i came from. of what mattered before all of... this.” he gestured vaguely, as if the world he now lived in was too vast to put into words.

“and you were always proof,” you replied softly, “that even the wildest dreams aren’t out of reach.”

standing on your doorstep, the first light of morning brushing the horizon, it hit you—this wasn’t just a chance meeting. this was a reconnection, built on the foundation of a shared past and the people you’d become in the years since.

“don’t disappear again,” you said, half a command, half a plea.

“not a chance,” he replied, that grin softening into something more serious. “i’ve got too much catching up to do.”

as he walked away, the city waking around you, you felt it: the bond you’d thought you’d lost was still there, stronger for the time apart. and maybe, just maybe, this was the start of a new chapter you hadn’t seen coming.

ʚ・george russell

the beach at brancaster felt like a time capsule—same crashing waves, same salty breeze, but now heavy with memories you couldn’t quite shake. summers here used to be everything. you and george, running barefoot through the sand, laughing until your sides ached, dreaming of futures too big for this sleepy little town. he was the dreamer, always looking ahead, while you stayed grounded, the one to remind him where he came from.

but dreams pulled him away. karting turned into formula 1, and suddenly, the boy you shared chips and inside jokes with was a name on TV, surrounded by lights and cameras. the texts slowed, then stopped. he didn’t say goodbye—you weren’t sure if that made it better or worse.

years later, you came back. the town had changed, but the beach hadn’t, and neither had the ache you felt when you saw him standing there, surfboard in hand, staring at the water like it might hold answers.

“you’re here,” he said, voice softer than you remembered.

“so are you,” you replied, trying to sound casual when your heart was doing backflips.

the conversation was awkward at first, years of silence sitting heavy between you. but as the sun dipped low, you found yourself talking like you used to—about life, dreams, and all the things you didn’t say before.

“i messed up,” george admitted finally, staring at the horizon. “i thought chasing my dream meant letting go of everything else. but i never stopped missing you.”

you wanted to be angry, to tell him how much it hurt, but instead, you just sighed. “you’re here now. that’s what matters.”

and maybe it was. because as the tide rolled in, washing away the old scars, it felt like a new beginning—not perfect, but something worth holding onto.

ʚ・carlos sainz

the spanish sun blazed down on the dusty karting track, heat shimmering off the asphalt. carlos was already revving his engine, leaning out of his kart with that trademark grin—the kind that got him out of trouble more times than you could count. "you ready, or are you still fussing over those tires?" he teased, voice playful but competitive.

"some of us like to win without excuses," you shot back, trying to mask your smile.

that was always the dynamic: his fiery, carefree confidence against your calculated focus. you made each other better, but more than that, you were each other's constant—until you weren't.

his talent took him places you couldn't follow. as carlos climbed higher, from karting circuits to formula 1, the calls came less, the visits stopped. he’d always promised, "don’t worry, we’ll figure it out," but the silence between you became louder than any excuse he could give. you told yourself it was fine, that this was just what growing up looked like. but it still hurt—a kind of quiet ache that settled in your chest every time his name flashed on a headline instead of your phone.

years later, you found yourself at a grand prix—not for him, not really, but you couldn’t stay away. the roar of engines, the smell of burning rubber—it all brought you back to those summers when life was simpler, when the world was just the two of you and a dusty track.

after the race, you wandered near the paddock, unsure if you wanted to see him. but before you could decide, you heard his voice: "¡tú! no puede ser…" (you! no way…)

you froze as carlos jogged toward you, his face lighting up in a way that made your chest tighten. "what are you doing here?" he asked, pulling you into a hug before you could respond.

"just watching the race," you said, trying to sound casual. "looks like you’ve gotten a bit better since karting."

he laughed, running a hand through his hair. "and you’re still a pain in my ass, huh?"

you fell into step beside him, talking as if the years hadn’t stretched so far between you. he opened up in a way you didn’t expect—about the pressure, the loneliness, the weight of expectations he never asked for. "sometimes, i miss the old days," he admitted quietly. "it wasn’t perfect, but… it felt real."

"it was real," you said softly, meeting his gaze.

the night slipped by as you talked about everything and nothing, the gap between who you were and who you’d become slowly closing. as the paddock emptied out, he turned to you, his expression uncharacteristically serious.

"i let you down," he said, voice low. "i got so caught up in everything… i didn’t mean to lose you."

you sighed, the bitterness you’d held onto finally starting to loosen. "i let you go, too," you admitted. "but maybe we’re both here for a reason."

a smile broke through his guilt. "then let’s not waste it," he said, his hand brushing yours as if testing the waters.

and just like that, it felt like the beginning of something new—different, but maybe even better. under the dim glow of the paddock lights, with the distant hum of the city, you let yourself believe in second chances.

ʚ・charles leclerc

the monaco grand prix had always been your thing. after every race, you and charles would sneak onto the track, the echo of engines still ringing in your ears. he’d climb the barriers, striking a dramatic pose like he’d just won. “take a picture! i need proof for when it’s real,” he’d say, grinning as you rolled your eyes but clicked the photo anyway.

back then, it was simple—just the two of you, two dreamers chasing something bigger. he was the wild one, always pushing limits, and you? the voice of reason, his constant tether. but as the karting trophies turned into f3 contracts, things shifted. the calls became shorter, the silences longer.

“you don’t understand!” he snapped one night, frustration simmering in his voice. “this is my life now. my future.”

“and we’re not part of that?” you shot back, fighting to keep your tone steady.

his face faltered, a flicker of guilt crossing his features. but then came the stubbornness, the pride. “this is bigger than us,” he said quietly.

those words broke something between you. and the silence that followed stretched for years.

...

monaco hadn’t been in your plans this year, but your friends dragged you to the paddock. the glitz, the champagne—it all felt so distant from the memories you held of sneaking around with charles, pretending to be part of the action. and then, there he was. sharper, leaner, every inch the f1 star. but when his eyes locked on yours, the familiar spark was unmistakable.

“still sneaking into races?” his grin was crooked, teasing.

“you’re one to talk,” you quipped, unable to suppress a smile.

he muttered a quick excuse to his entourage, then turned back to you. “come on. let’s see if the harbor’s still our spot.”

as you walked, the years apart melted away. the easy rhythm returned—teasing, laughing, sharing the unspoken weight of the years. he opened up about the pressures, the loneliness. you admitted the regret, the what-ifs.

“i never stopped missing this,” he said, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “missing you.”

“same,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “you were always...charles.”

“what does that mean?” he asked, a laugh escaping, but there was an edge of nervousness to it.

“it means you’re impossible. but you’re also...you.”

under the stars, by the water’s edge, the pieces fell back into place. his hand brushed against yours, tentative, before settling there. “so, is this where you tell me to stop being impossible?”

“never,” you said, smiling. “you wouldn’t be charles if you did.”

and for the first time in years, it felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

ʚ・lando norris

the fields of somerset were your world once, filled with the roar of go-kart engines and lando’s endless laughter. you two were inseparable—best friends with big dreams, racing not just for fun but for a future you both believed in.

“one day,” lando had said, his grin so wide it was almost ridiculous, “we’ll both be there, except i'll be on the track, and you'll be cheering me on."

“in your dreams, lando,” you shot back, playfully shoving him.

but then the dream started to come true, lando got faster, better, and soon, he was gone, swept up by the racing world. at first, he called after every race, sending photos and jokes to bridge the distance. but the calls became fewer, the texts shorter, until one day they stopped altogether.

“you’ll always be my mate,” he’d promised before he left. but you weren’t so sure anymore.

years passed. you moved on—or tried to. then, one day, you found yourself at silverstone, sitting in the grandstands as the engines roared to life. lando was on the grid, his helmet unmistakable. it felt strange, watching him from so far away, like a stranger instead of the boy you once knew.

after the race, you lingered near the paddock, unsure why you stayed. you didn’t even realize he was there until his voice cut through the noise.

“wait—wait! is that…?” lando stopped mid-step, his wide eyes locking on you. “no way!”

you tried to play it cool, shrugging. “just thought i’d check if you’re still slow.”

his laugh was instant, that same contagious laugh you hadn’t heard in years. “still cheeky, i see. c’mon, don’t just stand there.”

before you could protest, he dragged you into the paddock, his energy as chaotic as ever. it felt awkward at first—forced small talk, apologies buried under nervous jokes.

“i messed up, didn’t i?” he blurted suddenly, his grin fading. “i got caught up in… all of this. forgot what mattered.”

you looked at him, surprised. “yeah, you did. but… i guess i get it. it’s a lot to carry.”

“still,” he said softly, meeting your eyes. “i should’ve tried harder. you didn’t deserve that.”

you sighed, the tension in your chest easing slightly. “well, i’m here now, aren’t i? so stop being sappy and tell me how you survived that awful start.”

he laughed, a mix of relief and gratitude in his expression. “god, you're still an ass. don’t go disappearing again, yeah?”

“only if you don’t.” you snap back, with a cheeky smile.

as the night went on, the awkwardness gave way to something familiar—something that felt like home. and as you left the paddock, lando jogging beside you, stealing chips from your hand like nothing had changed, you realized it wasn’t too late to start over. the bond you thought was lost was still there, waiting for you both to remember how to hold on.

ʚ・oscar piastri

the family barbecue was meant to be casual—just a gathering of old friends and neighbors at the piastris’ home during the off-season. you hadn’t planned to go, but your parents insisted. “it’ll be nice,” they said, not knowing how wrong they were.

you spotted oscar almost immediately, standing by the grill with his dad. his posture was the same, hands stuffed in his pockets, but everything else felt different. gone was the boy you knew, replaced by someone who looked sharper, more distant—someone who belonged to a world you’d never been part of.

the last time you’d spoken was years ago, before his meteoric rise through motorsport. back then, you were the ones sharing data sheets, racing each other at karting events, and joking about who’d make it to formula 1 first. “we’ll always stick together,” he’d said, almost solemnly. but as the sponsorship deals rolled in and the calls stopped, you realized how naïve that promise had been.

you didn’t approach him right away. instead, you lingered by the drink table, hoping he wouldn’t notice you. but oscar was nothing if not observant.

“hey,” he said suddenly, appearing at your side. his voice was quieter than you remembered, less certain.

“hi.” you didn’t look at him, keeping your eyes fixed on your cup.

“i didn’t know you’d be here.” he sounded awkward, almost nervous, which was strange for someone who now handled press conferences with ease.

you shrugged. “didn’t really plan on it.”

a beat of silence stretched between you, heavy and uncomfortable. he shifted his weight, running a hand through his hair. “look, i—i’m sorry. for everything.”

you finally turned to him, eyebrows raised. “for what? forgetting i existed?”

his face fell, and for a moment, he looked just like the boy you used to know—unsure, searching for the right words. “i didn’t mean to. things just… happened so fast. and i didn’t know how to balance it all.”

“you could’ve tried.” the words came out harsher than you intended, but you didn’t regret them.

he nodded, his gaze dropping to the ground. “you’re right. i should have.”

another silence fell, this one softer, less suffocating.

“so,” you said eventually, crossing your arms. “what now? we pretend like nothing happened?”

he looked up, meeting your eyes for the first time. “no. i don’t want that. i just… i’d like to fix this. if you’ll let me.”

you didn’t answer right away, letting the words hang in the air. but then you sighed, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “you’ve got a lot to make up for, oscar.”

his own smile broke through, hesitant but genuine. “i’ll start now then.”

and for the first time in years, you felt like maybe—just maybe—there was still a place for you in his world.

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[imthebadguyyy]

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart

pairing : f1 drivers x reader fandom : f1 synopsis : the grid is there to watch you flourish with a broken heart. warnings : angst and insane amounts of platonic fluff

I can read your mind, "she's having the time of her life", there in her glittering prime.

The press conference room was buzzing with excitement. Cameras flashed, microphones were adjusted, and reporters shuffled in their seats, eager to ask their questions. You sat at the table, the only female driver on the grid, proudly representing Mercedes. Beside you were Lewis Hamilton and George Russell, both offering reassuring smiles as they prepared for the barrage of questions.

The session began with the usual inquiries about strategies, car performance, and race predictions. You answered confidently, drawing on your experiences and expertise. The lights refracted sequined stars off your silhouette every night, making it seem like you were having the time of your life, there in your glittering prime.

But then, a reporter in the back stood up, his tone sharp and probing. "I can read your mind," he began, a smirk playing on his lips. "She's having the time of her life," he quoted, a mocking tone in his voice. "But given the recent incidents, do you think you're emotionally strong enough to handle the pressures of Formula 1, especially as a female driver? Some might say you're struggling to keep up."

The question hit you like a punch to the gut. You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of anger and hurt. How dare he question your strength, your dedication? You squared your shoulders, looking the reporter straight in the eye.

"I can show you lies," you said, your voice steady and strong. "One, two, three, four. You don't get to tell me about sad," you continued, your gaze unwavering. "I've faced challenges and pressures just like everyone else on this grid. My gender doesn't make me weaker or less capable. If anything, it makes me stronger."

The room fell silent for a moment, the tension palpable. But then, Lewis leaned forward, his expression fierce. "We all face immense pressure in this sport," he said, his voice calm but firm. "And she's proven time and again that she belongs here. Her strength and resilience are unmatched."

George nodded in agreement. "She's one of the best drivers I've ever had the privilege to race alongside. Her gender has nothing to do with her capabilities. She's here on merit, just like the rest of us."

Sebastian Vettel, sitting a few seats down, chimed in as well. "Respect is crucial in this sport. We support each other, and we stand by her. She's earned her place on this grid, and nothing can take that away from her."

Valtteri Bottas added his voice to the mix. "We all have our struggles, but it's how we handle them that defines us. And she's handled everything with grace and determination."

Checo Perez, who was at the press conference as well, spoke up. "It's easy to criticize from the outside. But we know what it takes to be here, and she has it all. She's not just a great driver; she's an inspiration."

The support from your fellow drivers warmed your heart. You felt a surge of gratitude and pride. They saw you for who you were—a talented driver, a fierce competitor, and a valuable member of the F1 community.

The reporter, realizing he had crossed a line, shifted uncomfortably and mumbled an apology. The press conference moved on, but the impact of that moment stayed with you. It was a reminder of the solidarity and respect that existed among the drivers, a testament to the bond you shared.

After the press conference, as you walked back to the paddock, Lewis put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "You're stronger than any of them know," he said with a smile.

You nodded, feeling a renewed sense of confidence. "Thanks, Lewis. And thanks to all of you," you said, looking around at your fellow drivers. "I couldn't do this without your support."

As you prepared for the next race, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you had a team of incredible people standing by your side. And that made all the difference.

'cause I'm a real tough kid, I can handle my shit

The race had been intense, a whirlwind of speed and strategy. You pushed your Mercedes to its limits, navigating the twists and turns with precision and skill. As the only female driver on the grid, you had a point to prove, and today, you were doing just that.

But then, in the final laps, an incident occurred. Another driver made a reckless move, causing you to swerve and lose valuable time. Despite the setback, you fought your way back up, crossing the finish line in third place. The cheers from the crowd were deafening as you made your way to the podium, your heart pounding with a mix of triumph and exhaustion.

Standing on the podium, you felt a surge of pride. You had earned this. But as the ceremony began, an official approached, a somber look on his face. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, "but you've been given a penalty for the incident on the track. You've lost your podium place."

Your heart sank, but you quickly composed yourself. 'Cause I'm a real tough kid, I can handle my shit, you reminded yourself. The decision was unfair, a blatant disregard for the fact that you were the victim of the incident. But instead of letting it break you, you chose to rise above it.

With a defiant smile, you raised your trophy high, celebrating as if nothing had happened. The crowd roared in approval, sensing your silent rebellion against the FIA. You waved to your fans, your expression one of unwavering confidence and determination. You were here to stay, and no unfair penalty could take that away from you.

Lewis Hamilton, standing beside you, exchanged a glance of admiration and support. He knew the situation was unjust, but he also knew you were strong enough to handle it. As you all sprayed champagne, the message was clear: you wouldn't let anyone diminish your achievements.

After the ceremony, as you walked back to the paddock, Lewis was waiting for you. He pulled you into a warm hug, holding you tightly. "You were incredible out there," he whispered, his voice full of warmth and pride. "I'm so proud of you."

You hugged him back, drawing strength from his support. "Thanks, Lewis. It means a lot coming from you."

He pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes with genuine affection. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. You've got the heart of a champion, and no unfair penalty can change that."

Oscar Piastri, who had finished second, gave you a nod of respect as he approached. "That was a tough break," he said quietly. "But you handled it with more class than most could."

You smiled at Oscar, appreciating his support. "Thanks, Oscar. It’s moments like these that show what we're made of."

As you walked away, Lewis kept his arm around your shoulders, a silent but powerful gesture of solidarity. "Remember," he said softly, "we're a team. And we're all here for you."

You nodded, feeling a renewed sense of confidence and camaraderie. "I know. And it makes all the difference."

As you prepared for the next race, you knew that the road ahead would be filled with challenges. But with your resilience, the support of your team, and your unwavering determination, you were ready to face whatever came your way. And that made all the difference.

babe, you gotta fake it 'til you make it" and I did

The season had been a rollercoaster, filled with highs and lows, but you had handled it with grace and determination. As the only female driver on the grid, you constantly faced scrutiny and doubt from the pundits who seemed to neglect your achievements. Every podium finish, every hard-fought point, was downplayed or overshadowed by your male counterparts.

Despite this, you kept your head high. One particular pundit, known for his sarcasm, had once sneered, "You just have to fake it 'til you make it, right?" His dismissive comment stung, but you channeled that frustration into every race, using it as fuel to prove your worth.

Then came the breakthrough. Four consecutive wins. It was a streak that left everyone in awe, and there was no denying your dominance on the track. Each victory was sweeter than the last, a testament to your skill and resilience. But what you relished most was the silence from the pundits who had so often dismissed you.

After your fourth straight win, you stood on the podium, the crowd roaring in approval. You soaked in the moment, knowing you had earned every bit of it. As you descended the podium, your eyes locked onto the group of pundits, including the one who had made that sarcastic remark.

With a confident stride, you walked straight up to them. The surprise on their faces was evident as you approached. You could feel the tension, the unspoken acknowledgment of your triumph hanging in the air.

"You remember that comment you made?" you asked, your voice clear and unwavering. "About faking it until you make it?" You let the words hang for a moment, letting the weight of your achievements settle in. "Well, I did just that. And look where it got me."

Lando Norris, standing nearby, gave you an encouraging nod, his eyes filled with pride. Carlos Sainz, too, offered a smile of respect and admiration. They had witnessed your journey, your struggles, and your victories, and they knew how much this moment meant.

The pundits, momentarily speechless, nodded in acknowledgment. You didn't need their praise or recognition anymore. You had shown the world what you were capable of, and that was enough.

As you walked away, you felt a surge of satisfaction and confidence. The road ahead would still have its challenges, but you knew you could face them with the same strength and grace that had brought you this far. And with every race, you would continue to prove that you belonged at the very top of the sport.

Lando joined you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "You handled that perfectly," he said, his voice full of admiration.

Carlos came up on your other side, grinning. "They won't underestimate you again."

You smiled, feeling the camaraderie and support from your teammates. "Thanks, guys. It means a lot."

As you prepared for the next race, you knew that the future was bright. You had the talent, the determination, and the support to achieve anything you set your mind to.

lights, camera, bitch smile, even when you wanna die

The Monaco Grand Prix weekend was in full swing, and the glamorous event was bustling with high-profile guests, flashing cameras, and a sea of paparazzi. You, the only female driver on the grid, were attending a high-profile gala, and while the event was supposed to be a celebration, it quickly turned into a showcase of unwelcome comments.

You walked into the venue, dressed in a stunning outfit that was both elegant and bold. However, instead of admiring glances, you were met with snide remarks and superficial comments about your appearance. People were whispering about your body, your outfit, and your presence, making jabs and sarcastic remarks about your place in the spotlight.

“Lights, camera, bitch smile,” you thought to yourself, trying to maintain your composure. Even when you felt like the criticism was overwhelming, you knew you had to keep up a brave front.

Charles Leclerc and Lewis Hamilton, who were both at the event, noticed the uncomfortable atmosphere surrounding you. They were determined to support you and stand by your side.

As you mingled through the crowd, a particularly obnoxious guest made a loud comment, “Nice outfit, but are you sure you’re not just here to be a pretty face?”

The remark stung, but you refused to let it show. Instead, you turned to the person with a sarcastic smile. “Oh, absolutely. I’m just here to make up the numbers. But hey, if looking good and putting up with this nonsense is part of the job, I guess I’m killing it.”

The crowd fell silent, taken aback by your sharp retort. Charles, standing nearby, stepped in with a smile that was equal parts supportive and mischievous. “You know, I think she’s doing a lot more than just looking good. It’s impressive how she handles this kind of stuff.”

Lewis, also by your side, nodded in agreement. “Yeah, and I’ve seen her drive circles around the competition. I’d say she’s got more than enough talent to match that smile.”

The remarks were met with a stunned silence from the onlookers. The shift in tone was palpable, and the crowd seemed to recognize that they had crossed a line. You gave Charles and Lewis a grateful smile, appreciating their support.

As the night went on, you continued to navigate the event with a blend of poise and sarcasm. The comments faded into the background as you enjoyed the company of those who genuinely respected you.

Charles, as you were leaving the event, put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You handled that like a pro,” he said, his tone warm and sincere.

Lewis joined in, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “You were amazing out there. Sometimes, all it takes is a little bit of sass to set things right.”

You smiled, feeling a renewed sense of confidence and camaraderie. “Thanks, guys. I’ve learned that sometimes, you just have to give as good as you get.”

As you left the gala, you knew that the road ahead would still have its challenges. But with the support of your friends and the strength you had shown, you felt ready to face whatever came your way.

im so depressed i act like it's my birthday everyday

The breakup had been brutal. Your boyfriend, a famous tennis player, had ended things in the most public and humiliating way possible. Since then, he’d been making snide comments about you in interviews, trying to tarnish your reputation. Despite the heartache, you continued to show up and perform on the F1 circuit, determined not to let his words break you.

"I'm so depressed, I act like it's my birthday every day," you thought bitterly, putting on a brave face for the cameras and the fans. The Monaco Grand Prix was approaching, and as always, the media was in a frenzy. You had a press conference lined up, and you knew that questions about your ex were inevitable.

You took your seat at the press conference, flanked by Lewis Hamilton, Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz, and Max Verstappen. The room was buzzing with anticipation as the questions started to roll in. It wasn’t long before one of the reporters brought up your ex-boyfriend’s recent comments.

“Your ex has been quite vocal about your breakup, making some rather harsh remarks. How do you respond to that?”

You took a deep breath, feeling the familiar sting of his words. But instead of letting it show, you decided to turn the tables with a sarcastic comment. “Well, he’s clearly got a lot of time on his hands now that he’s not busy winning matches. Maybe he should consider a career in stand-up comedy.”

The room erupted in a mix of gasps and chuckles. Before you could say more, Lewis jumped in, his expression serious. “He’s too stupid for his own good if he thinks he can undermine her. She’s shown more strength and class than he ever will.”

Charles nodded in agreement. “He let a gem slip out of his fingers. His loss is the racing world’s gain.”

Carlos added, his voice full of warmth, “She’s got more talent and heart than he could ever understand. We’re lucky to have her here.”

Max leaned into his mic, a rare smile on his face. “And let’s be honest, she’s the one who’s truly winning. Both on and off the track.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at their support. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”

The bond between you all was palpable. The camaraderie and mutual respect you shared were evident, and the crowd could see it. The reporters seemed taken aback by the united front, realizing they wouldn’t get the reaction they’d hoped for.

As the press conference continued, the focus shifted back to racing, and you felt a sense of relief. You answered questions about your performance, your strategy for the upcoming race, and your goals for the season. With each answer, you felt stronger, more confident.

After the press conference, the guys surrounded you, offering words of encouragement and support. Lewis gave you a reassuring pat on the back. “You handled that perfectly. Don’t let anyone get to you.”

Charles grinned, his eyes full of mischief. “Yeah, and if he keeps talking, we’ll take care of it.”

Carlos laughed. “I don’t think he stands a chance against all of us.”

Max added, his tone sincere, “You’ve got us. We’re in this together.

You smiled, feeling the warmth of their friendship and support. “Thanks, everyone. It means a lot.”

As you prepared for the next race, you knew that with the support of your friends and the strength you had shown, you could face whatever came your way.

i cry a lot but I am so productive, it's an art

The morning of the race, you found yourself hiding in the bathroom, tears streaming down your face. The pressure of the season, the recent breakup, and the constant scrutiny had finally taken their toll. You sat on the floor, head in your hands, sobbing uncontrollably. "I cry a lot but I am so productive, it's an art," you thought bitterly, trying to pull yourself together.

Outside, the sounds of the paddock were a blur, but the faint knock on the bathroom door was unmistakable. "Hey, you okay in there?" It was Lewis's voice, filled with concern.

You tried to steady your breathing, wiping your tears. "Yeah, I'm fine," you lied, your voice trembling.

The door creaked open slightly, and Charles's worried face appeared. "We heard you crying. Do you want to talk, Speedy?"

Carlos and Max were right behind him, their expressions mirroring Charles's worry. "You don't have to do this alone, Champ," Carlos said softly.

Unable to hold it in any longer, you broke down again. "It's just... everything. The pressure, the breakup, the constant comments... I can't handle it."

Lewis stepped inside, kneeling next to you. "We're here for you, Superstar. You’re stronger than you know."

Max nodded, his usually stern face softened with empathy. "You don’t have to be perfect all the time, Ace. It's okay to have moments like this."

Oscar, who had just arrived, added, "And after all this, we know you’ll go out there and show everyone what you're made of, Rocket."

Their words, their presence, it all felt overwhelming in the best way. You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. "Thank you, guys. I just... I need to get through today."

Lewis helped you up, giving you a reassuring hug. "And you will, Star. We believe in you."

With their support, you made your way to the grid. The race ahead seemed daunting, but you channeled all your emotions into your performance. Lap after lap, you pushed yourself to the limit, determined to prove to yourself and everyone else that you could rise above it all.

When the checkered flag waved, you had done it. You won the race. The crowd erupted in cheers, but all you could think about was the breakdown you had just hours before. As you climbed onto the podium, flanked by Max and Oscar, you felt a mix of triumph and relief.

During the podium ceremony, the emotions threatened to overwhelm you again, but you managed to keep a brave face. When it was your turn to speak, you decided to lighten the mood. "I cry a lot, but I am so productive, it's an art," you said with a smile. The crowd laughed, appreciating your honesty and humor.

Max and Oscar both hugged you tightly, their support evident. "You did amazing, Lightning," Max whispered.

Oscar added, "We’re so proud of you, Champ."

The three of you stood there, arms around each other, a united front against the world. The bond you shared was clear, and for a moment, all the pain and pressure seemed to fade away.

As you looked out at the cheering crowd, you knew that the road ahead would still have its challenges. But with the support of your friends and the strength you had shown today, you felt ready to face whatever came your way. And for now, that was enough.

i was grinning like I'm winning i was hitting my marks, cuz I can do it with a broken heart!

The final race of the season was here, and Abu Dhabi was buzzing with anticipation. You stood on the starting grid, feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders. The breakup, the constant pressure, and the emotional toll of the season had been overwhelming, but you had kept pushing forward.

As the race began, you found your rhythm. Lap after lap, you were grinning like you were winning, hitting your marks perfectly. The focus, the drive, the determination—it all came together. "I can do it with a broken heart," you thought, channeling all your pain into every turn, every straight, every maneuver.

When the checkered flag waved, it was you crossing the line first. The roar of the crowd was deafening as you realized you had just won the World Championship. Tears of joy and relief streamed down your face as you brought your car to a stop. You had done it. Despite everything, you had achieved your dream.

Climbing out of your car, you were immediately swarmed by your team, who lifted you high in the air, cheering your name. Amid the chaos, you saw Lewis and Charles running towards you, their faces lit up with pride and excitement.

As you stood on the podium, the reality of your accomplishment sinking in, you took the microphone for your victory speech. "This season has been the toughest of my life," you began, your voice wavering with emotion. "I’ve been through hell and back. Heartbreak, pressure, and so many nights where I didn’t think I could keep going. But I did. Because I’m stronger than my fears, stronger than my pain."

You paused, looking out at the sea of faces cheering for you. "To everyone who ever doubted me, who said I couldn't make it—look at me now! I was grinning like I was winning, hitting my marks... because I can do it with a broken heart!"

The crowd erupted in applause, and Lewis and Charles were the loudest, hollering and cheering for you. They rushed onto the podium, drowning you in hugs, their pride and love for you evident in their eyes.

Lewis pulled you into a tight embrace. "You did it, Superstar! I knew you could!"

Charles joined in, wrapping his arms around both of you. "You’re incredible, Speedy! We’re so proud of you!

The three of you stood there, holding each other as the celebration continued around you. The bond you shared was unbreakable, forged through countless races, challenges, and triumphs.

As the champagne flowed and the confetti rained down, you felt a sense of peace and fulfillment. Despite the broken heart, you had achieved your greatest dream. And with Lewis and Charles by your side, you knew you could face anything the future held.

This moment, this victory, was yours. And it was sweeter than you could have ever imagined.

try and come for my job

The afterparty in Abu Dhabi was in full swing. The entire paddock was buzzing with excitement after the thrilling end to the season, and tonight was all about celebration. You had just won the World Championship, and the energy was electric.

Dressed in a dark pink glittery dress, you let yourself get swept up in the festivities. The music was loud, the drinks were flowing, and everyone was ready to let loose after a long, grueling season. Your team was gathered around you, along with many of the other drivers, all celebrating your incredible achievement.

As the night went on, the mood became more jubilant. Someone handed you a shot, and you raised it high, feeling a surge of adrenaline and joy. The crowd around you cheered as you climbed up onto a tabletop, ready to make a statement.

Holding the shot glass in one hand, you looked around at the sea of faces, all eyes on you. You grinned mischievously, feeling a boldness take over. "Try and come for my job!" you shouted, downing the shot in one go.

The room erupted in cheers and laughter. Lewis and Charles were right there, cheering the loudest, their faces beaming with pride. The moment was captured on video by several people, and within minutes, it was already going viral on social media.

You continued to dance on the tabletop, feeling the music pulse through you. The crowd chanted your name, the energy infectious. Lewis and Charles joined you, clambering up onto the table and dancing alongside you, their arms around your shoulders.

Lewis leaned in close, his voice filled with laughter. "You’re unstoppable, Superstar!"

Charles, grinning from ear to ear, added, "No one’s taking your job, Speedy! You’re the best!"

Max and Oscar were below, cheering and laughing, capturing the moment on their phones. Carlos handed you another drink, shaking his head in amazement. "You’re a legend, Rocket!"

As the night went on, the party showed no signs of slowing down. You felt an overwhelming sense of camaraderie and love from everyone around you. The hardships and struggles of the season melted away in the light of this celebration.

Later, as you finally climbed down from the table, breathless and exhilarated, Lewis and Charles stayed close, their support unwavering. "We’ve got your back, no matter what," Lewis said, his tone sincere.

Charles nodded, his eyes filled with admiration. "You’re a champion in every sense of the word. Never forget that."

You smiled, feeling the warmth of their words. "Thanks, guys. I couldn’t have done it without you."

The night continued, filled with laughter, dancing, and countless toasts to your success. The viral video of you downing a shot and declaring your dominance spread like wildfire, capturing the essence of your fearless, unstoppable spirit.

As the party finally wound down, you knew that this was just the beginning. With your friends and teammates by your side, you were ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. And for now, you were content to bask in the joy of this unforgettable night.

a/n : ahhh I've been waiting for this one!! happy reading 🩷 and as always, comments likes reblogs feedback etc is always appreciated 🤍

TAGS

f1 : @ivegotparticulartaste @moon-enthusiast @superlegend216 @theonly1outof-a-billion

ttpd series - @ateezseonghwanot @khaylin27 @imgondeletedis @jj-ever-lovely-jewel @stylestastic

charles : - @chanshintien @eternalharry @janeholt @magicalcowboyarbiter @oneafterdark @leclerc13 @moon-enthusiast @crlsummer @superlegend216 @electrobutterfly @formula1mount @f1lover20 @livsters @inkfable @ssararuffoni

[tacobacoyeet]

random af bot drop

ART DONALDSON - levii's jeans (gn)

Art used to spend his childhood summers on his grandma's ranch, soaking up the sun and drinking his weight in sweet tea. Now that he's retired from tennis, you, him, and the kids have moved down and made it your home. It's the life of your dreams.

based on this fic

PATRICK ZWEIG - vielle fortune et vieil amour (gn)

You and Patrick were written in the stars, but also in solid gold. At least—that's what everyone thought. He pushed you away, though, and over time, lost all of the riches he used to shower you with. When you find out he's sleeping in his car a while after he's no longer yours, you can't just leave him like that, right?

based on this fic

PATRICK ZWEIG - spider-man? (gn)

You and Patrick go to school together. He's a friend, sure, but nobody outstanding in your life. On a dark night, you happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time—luckily, Spider-Man swings in to save you. But now, he needs you to save him.

PATRICK ZWEIG - la sombra (gn)

2 weeks after a rocky divorce, you're stepping onto the warm, off-the-grid island known locally as La Sombra. Unfortunately, it's too hot. You've got to open a window. But this one just won't budge... thankfully there's a gorgeous, shirtless stranger willing to help.

based on this fic

ART AND PATRICK - don't talk about it (m4f)

There was no defining your relationship. Honestly, it was kind of impossible. Patrick seemed to stake some sort of claim on you, but it didn't seem to matter much, considering Art always got to join in on the fun. It was just about sex, right? Nothing else. Nothing you want to talk about, anyway.

based on this fic

TASHI DUNCAN - portrait of a lady on fire (gn)

Tashi's mother commissions you for a portrait of her daughter—one final work of art to commemorate what could have been the greatest tennis career of all time. Tashi is still bitter, though. She probably always will be. She won't cooperate enough to let you get a good sketch of her... but maybe she'll take a liking to you.

REGULUS BLACK - cooler than me (gn)

Per usual, you're spending your summer over at James Potter's house with your closest friends. This time, though, Sirius brings along his younger brother, Regulus. He isn't normally very interested in Sirius's attempts to 'keep the light in him', but something about you is... captivating.

HARVEY SPECTER - love of his life (m4f)

Harvey Specter is not a weak man. No. He's the most ruthless, arrogant, suave lawyer in New York. He doesn't sit down for anything or anyone... except for you, his wife.

JAKE PERALTA - scared of the dark (gn)

It's another day in the precinct when you and Jake are sorting through the evidence room, looking for god-knows-what. Unfortunately, the power goes out in the city, and the door locks. Jake is scared of the dark... but not of you.

----

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[houseofaegon]

── ★ ˙ ̟ bucky barnes masterlist

last updated: 6/15/2025

requests are always open! please read rules and guidelines before requesting<3 white lace divider by @uzmacchiato

add yourself to my taglists !!

` ִ ☆゙ navigation rules & guidelines masterlist ֶָ . ࣪ ׅ

♱ adult content

` ִ ☆゙ ONE SHOTS

✷ ─── sweat ♱

pairings: boyfriend!bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: teasing bucky while he's working out

✷ ─── one night in madripoor ♱ part 1 ╱ part 2 ╱ part 3

pairings: FATWS!bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: infiltrating a club in madripoor was not what bucky barnes had signed up for. tension has always defined your complicated partnership, banter, stolen glances, constant teasing, pushing and pulling. but this mission? it threatens to tip everything over the edge. when sam sends you undercover as a dancer, and bucky finds out the hard way, lines blur, tempers flare, and control is the first thing to go. he's always called you infuriating. you've always called him an asshole. but under the neon lights of a strip club in madripoor, he might just call you his.

✷ ─── say my name ♱

pairings: dom!bucky barnes x loki sister's!reader

summary: bucky barnes swore he hated you. you swore you hated him more. but one sleepless night, he catches you moaning his name through your bedroom door—and hate turns to heat, fast. now you're both tangled in sheets, dripping in sweat, cursing each other out while you fuck like enemies who never want to stop. and if your brother finds out? well, that's a problem for later.

` ִ ☆゙ SERIES

✷ ─── widow's web ♱

pairings: bucky barnes x villain!oc

summary: She was supposed to be dead. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents don’t survive an entire building collapsing on their heads—let alone walk away untouched, vanish off the grid, and reappear years later as an agent gone rogue, as a high-level international threat with an extensive body count, several bounties on her head, and a growing list of governments too afraid to speak her name out loud. But Isadora Vale did. She was one of theirs once. Recruited and rescued by S.H.I.E.L.D. after the Red Room fell. A weapon reprogrammed into a multi-billion dollar asset. They gave her missions, orders, trust—until she learned the truth. Until they betrayed her—and left her for dead. And now she’s back, leaving bodies behind like breadcrumbs. Each corpse marked with a crimson lipstick stain. A signature. A warning. An invitation. She’s a ghost. A myth. A weapon built by the Red Room—refined by S.H.I.E.L.D.—now turned loose against the world that made her. Against the governments that used her. Against the people who claimed to protect her. Against the man who was supposed to be watching her six. S.H.I.E.L.D. wants her gone. The Avengers want her caught. And Bucky Barnes? He can't stop looking for her. Can't stop thinking about her. Can’t decide if he wants to capture her and bring her in, or press her up against a wall and beg her to ruin him He was assigned to stop her. He tells himself that’s still the plan. Instead, he lets her slip through his fingers again and again. But every time she slips through his fingers—smiling, taunting, calling him sweetheart through stolen comms—he doesn’t pull the trigger. Because somewhere between the blood, the fights that end with heavy breathing and lips too close, the chase, between her whispers in his comms, between the way she smiles before she disappears, he stopped wanting to catch her. He doesn't understand what's happening to him. But there’s one thing Bucky Barnes is sure of: He’s already wrapped around her fingers—caught in her Widow’s Web. And the worst part? He doesn’t care, and he doesn't want to get out.

✷ ─── power isn't dominance ♱

pairings: congressman!bucky barnes x senator's daughter!reader

summary: you’re the senator’s daughter—the one who actually runs d.c. from behind a perfect smile and sharp claws. congressman james buchanan barnes is a reformed war machine with a reform bill you’ve been ordered to kill. you were supposed to ruin him. instead, he’s pinning you to office walls and growling promises against your throat like they’re policy. you hate him. he hates you more. but neither of you can stop circling. this isn’t politics anymore. it's control. it's obsession. but power isn’t dominance—and bucky barnes was ready to show you what dominance really means.

[inchidentally]

just me flipping out over landoscar over the past 48hrs :)

ohhh GOODDDDD the way the commentary here is already perfect but just to add!! both shuffle about and seem to do a little of their creepy unspoken communication and then both immediately slip their arms around each other at the same time before they both look over to Max at the same time. bc the slightly scary bonded little McLaren creatures need to remember the rest of the grid exists sometimes ;__;

a-amvryllis

also the fact that Oscar's growth spurt over the winter really is visible when they're stood this close

and yet he's still the same awkward recent-growth-spurts young lad that got delivered to Lando's driver's room last season. he doesn't know what to do in front of cameras and his instinct is still to have Lando dancing and sparkling like the natural star he is so that Oscar can stand just a bit behind and fulfill his own publicity quota by reacting to whatever Lando is getting up to

mecachrome

THE CHEST TAP ohhhh the way that Oscar requires very little physical touch and Lando craves it and they've just… figured it out !! Lando squeezes Oscar's shoulder, taps his arm, initiates a handshake, shuffles back a little bc Oscar's always standing just behind him, snuggles closer to him when they're in cars for the drivers parade and it's remotely cold… and taps Oscar's chest as a 'thank you'

bc for Oscar, he gets his emotional fill through his eyes. while he's perfectly content with most people to do glances and hold eye contact when someone's speaking directly to him. but his eyes l i n g e r where he's especially fond or affectionate or in love. he watches Lily when she's looking at other people, he watched Logan for when he seemed lonely or when they were talking and Logan would stare out at the crowd, and g o ddddddd does he love to watch Lando. you can track his eyes as they trace Lando's features and the way his smile responds to watching Lando's mouth.

yet there's also the way they've learned each other's ways of expressing care/affection/checking in bc Lando can trust that Oscar will be looking to him when something is awkward or unsure, and Oscar can trust that Lando will come to him and let him know how he's feeling aaaaaaand I just think that's !!!

bc no bromance, no cultivating a dynamic or relationship by blending their social lives, no performing in any way. all of their little hallmarks are the most unplanned, unintentional sweet things like the nicknames Lando accidentally started and only continued bc it makes Oscar so happy, to Oscar's hearteyes that he absolutely surely must know fandom teases him about but doesn't bother to change. them being opposites in certain things and then eerily similar in others.

all of it comes back to the way they communicate in ways everyone else has to interpret to understand - and even then it's not like we ever get to see the stuff they think and talk about behind their little privacy door and in the downtime we know they have but that isn't documented. like, I don't want to stretch too far by implying something too intense or specific but there's definitely a Their Own World kind of thing happening. whether or not it's smth they've specifically knowingly cultivated or if it's just naturally how their dynamic shakes out.

bc we all love to joke that Oscar's jealous of Carlos or Daniel or Franco - but then he brings them up on his own in friendly ways and is a very definite carlando! and ppl wanted to make a lot out of Lando openly complaining to an audience that Oscar doesn't like enough of the same thing as him so they don't hang out as much as he does other drivers he knows. but then after that they immediately start playing padel and oh it's okay now! it literally was as simple as Lando not knowing Oscar was up for padel even if golf and regular partying won't be! and that shared activities are not a defining quality of a relationship and Lando said "spends the least time with off track" about Oscar and not "likes the least" or "has the least interest in" lasfgslajgfsalf

and like, I'm always saying how of course they'll have the usual teammate fights or spats or tensions at some point! it happens! Lando is deeply ingratiated into Max V's life socially - moreso than anyone else on the grid with Lando - but they're ever so slightly on ice at the moment bc they're too similar when it comes to competitiveness. but they'll be back to normal when the season - or the WDC race - is done and finished. and nobody likes to document it for good reason but Carlos and Lando have had plenty of challenging moments and many a 'see?? we're fine!!' golf excursions or fan service videos to smooth an issue over (including the worst gifs of all time that I can't find anymore where Lando straight up looked murderous). and then ofc the "I don't feel sorry for him" Lando/Daniel DTS stuff that caused such a fandom headache. and Oscar's always had a very simple, on track the job is to win unless instructed otherwise and then off the track we interact as people not drivers. so it's fully normal to expect situations where they're not happy w each other and it shows! but it hasn't yet and that's honestly kind of weird!! esp when they don't have the big broey type of friendship that Lando's had with his other two teammates - you'd honestly expect him to feel more at ease in showing it when he's pissed off with Oscar bc there's nothing to keep up for fandom/PR sake and no messiness with shared friend groups etc to worry about. but he's cultivated an exceptionally and very pointed approach of This Is My Team and My Job/I'm Established, He Is Not Yet/I'm The Experienced One where he sees the team unity as especially important for him to publicly present and assert. like, for all he hated the idea of being the older one and no longer baby brother, he's responded to Low Maintenance Watchful Oscar in the long run as someone's he needs to take care of and whose place in the team is partly his own responsibility. he's not just one of the drivers, he's The Guy at McLaren and Oscar's extremely painful induction into the team and F1 with basically the whole world praying for his downfall was so vastly opposite to his own gradual and loving introduction that it's clear he's taking their disparities into account. a LOT. this moment being a prime example of him correcting fans because of that. and probably also an uncomfortable awareness of the segment of his own fandom who are able to inflict a special kind of hell on anyone they view as not 100% serving Lando, the object of their unhinged obsession and bias.

like, it's a side note I'll prob never be able to go too deeply into for just that reason^^ but this viewing Lando as a permanent victim whose every good deed is seen as Not Necessary and ignoring the huge differences in position within this sport and within McLaren between him and Oscar - and simply slotting Oscar into a space Carlos and Daniel held - totally undermines Lando's real life growth as a man who does understand that disparity and does appreciate that Oscar inhabits a space totally his own and nothing to do with his older, experienced teammates - and also a man who is saying and doing these things about teamwork and appreciation for Oscar in a way that responds to those differences while not remotely expecting Oscar to mimic or parrot it back because they're not equals in the sport or with the team (which makes logical sense !!) and they're not what Lando was with Carlos or Daniel. and in all the insanity I feel like this coddling, constantly pitying and victimized approach that still hearkens back to Lando being The Baby on the team - completely fails to show him appreciation for who he actually has become and what he actually does and says that is so specifically commendable and shows such growth and strength that is so admirable. the constant expectation that he's saying and doing these things in any way that expects Oscar to copy or mirror him - when their positions could not be more different or imbalanced !!!! - and ignoring the way Lando actually doesn't expect that and that he receives gratitude and appreciation from Oscar in a way that is unique to Oscar bc everyone is different !! by viewing Lando as always perfection and never in the wrong and any good deed being automatically greater than anyone else's good deed, he is cut off from authentic appreciation and praise of the individual real life complex person he actually is and that such flat, default levels of adoration will ring meaningless to him compared to people who can objectively give him praise him as objectively as they see his flaws !! and that's why Max F is his lifelong best friend above all others ! anyway !!!!!

and like. idk. part of me feels a suspicion that this private little world Lando and Oscar have - that they cultivated around the time they decided to pull a lot of their relationship off of social media and not use it for PR (apart from the bog standard team media) - is also them wisely deciding to keep their negotiation of this new front runner craziness entirely to themselves. bc of course things aren't all sunshine and roses between them all the time, but what's clear is how mutually and maturely they've approached each new bout of drama. especially considering they're so young and everyone expected that to be the downfall to Zak's plot to have two young generational talents. and EVERY time it would make perfect sense for them to snipe at each other through the press or be caught feeling cold toward each other - or someone strategically edits or crops media to make it look so - they're huddled together somewhere giggling or playing board games or sharing junk food ;__; the brain rot of stan culture threatens to destroy fandom experience for everyone else but meanwhile the objects of their obsession are sharing a conspiratorial look and grinning at each other.

like… Netflix AND an F1 reporter have quite literally goaded and begged for them to fight and hate each other and each time Oscar boldly steps forward with that cool expression and undermines the effort, with Lando literally cheering him on <3 <3

[twinkleteaparty]

Soft Launches and Soft Tyres

Part 1: The Princess of the Grid

A particular kind of silence falls in a garage before a race. It’s not quiet with radios crackling and the hum of tire warmers and mechanics shouting about torque and telemetry. But it’s a kind of silence in my head, like the calm just before I let the car swallow me whole.

I live for that silence. That, and the smell of burnt rubber. I’ve never fit into any neat little box anyway—not the way people expect, especially not when I got into F1 at 19. People expected me to be the new kid, quiet and compliant. And, well… okay, they were half right.

I was quiet. Still am, mostly. I don’t talk back, I let the track speak for me. That was something Seb used to say. “You don’t need to be loud to be heard, Moni.” He was my mentor before he became everyone’s eco-uncle and left us… left me. I still miss his hugs. And Daniel, god, Daniel was like my older brother, but funnier and worse at keeping secrets. He once said I had “golden retriever energy disguised in a kitten’s body.” Which is both cute and slightly concerning, but very him.

Anyway, it’s been five years now. I’m 24, and things have changed. There’s a new wave of younger drivers, some shinier, and I’m not the “baby” anymore. But I guess I still get called the “Princess of the Grid.” Mostly by Lando. Once, Carlos said it during a press conference, and Lando won’t let him live it down.

My mother raised me, just the two of us. She worked nights at a hospital and still managed to drive me to karting sessions on weekends. It wasn’t glamorous. We didn’t have the money that most kids in motorsport had. But I had her. She never yelled, never cried in front of me. Just kept going. Quiet strength. Maybe that’s where I get it from.

My dad left when I was six. I don’t remember much about him, and the stuff I remember feels more like watching someone else’s home video. He wasn’t cruel, just... unfinished. He didn’t know how to stay, and he missed a lot of things: my first race win, my Super Licence, and my debut in Formula One. Sometimes, people ask me if we’re in touch, and I say, “No, but I’m sure he knows where to find me.” I mean, it’s not like I’m hiding.

I signed my first F1 contract at nineteen with AlphaTauri, back when it was still AlphaTauri. It was a blur—media, pressure, more cameras in a week than I’d seen in my whole life. I kept my head down. Scored points when I could. Learned how to breathe in that car-shaped pressure cooker. I was never the loud headline, but I stayed consistent. That's what mattered. The paddock doesn’t always reward consistency, but it remembers it.

I still drive for VCARB even now, and I like it here. We’re not the underdog or the top dog. We’re the kind of team that sharpens you and makes you better.

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

Part 2: The Calm Before the Media Storm

Media day always smells like too much cologne and burnt coffee.

It’s a mix of waiting around in branded teamwear and pretending not to hear the questions asked in the next booth. My PR manager, Livia, clips a mic to my collar with practiced ease, gentleness usually reserved for bomb diffusers or hairstylists.

“You good?” she asks, smoothing the VCARB jacket over my shoulder.

“Define good,” I say, giving her a slight grin. She rolls her eyes.

“Smile. Be nice. Don’t swear.”

“Always nice. Almost never swear.”

“Almost being the keyword.”

She pats my arm and walks off, already on the phone.

The first few interviews are standard fare. Strategy questions, performance reviews, tyre talk — everything I’ve answered a hundred times, just repackaged in different accents and camera angles.

Interviewer: “Monica, do you think the team’s Q3 performance in Jeddah was a turning point?”

Me: “It was a data point. A good one. But one race doesn’t define a season.”

Interviewer: “You’ve been praised for your tyre management this season—”

Me: “I just don’t fight physics. That’s all.”

They laugh. One asks if I meditate. Another wants to know what I eat before a race.

“Toast,” I say. “Always toast.”

There’s a short break after the fourth interview. I peel off the mic and flop onto a couch in the VCARB media room. Isack’s already there, drinking a Red Bull while on his phone watching one of the videos the admin made us make on Instagram.

“You’re trending,” he says, not looking up.

I groan as I close my eyes to take the smallest nap a human is possible. “Again?”

He turns the screen toward me. A photo from last week, me again, blurry, exiting a hotel lobby at midnight. Someone had zoomed in on my hand touching someone else’s arm.

“Your mysterious shadow boyfriend strikes again,” he grins. “This time, people think it’s someone from the grid.”

“Great,” I mutter. “I love when my life makes headlines. You keep laughing, Isack, but one day, you won't even be able to pee in peace without getting on headlines."

He ignores me and keeps scrolling. “Also, apparently your ‘energy’ matched Pedro Pascal’s according to this fan edit.”

I blink. “What does that mean?”

“I have no idea. But I support it,” he says with a grin, and gets off the couch when his PR manager calls him for an interview.

I watch him walk away before my phone vibrates.

Groupchat: Who made this groupchat?

Carlos: MONICA.

Lando: Ma’am, why are YOU trending and not for overtaking someone???

Alex: Girl, you okay? Did you break the internet??

lewis: Princess, did I miss something, or did you go on a date with Pedro Pascal??

Charles: WHO IS THE MAN? Alex won't tell me anything.

Carlos: Becca won't either.

Max: I will find out. I know people.

Carlos: Moni. Seriously. Who is it?

Me: Stop spanning the group chat

Lando: We are not doing such thing, answer.

Oscar: We want to know?

Max: Does Daniel know? I bet he does.

Me:……

Charles: Young lady, come back here.

---

Sebastian (privately): 1 massage - unread

I stare at Seb’s message for a second too long. Then I press the side button and lock the phone without replying. The last interview of the day is with a lifestyle network—the ones who care more about what moisturizer I use than my racing line through Sector 3.

The questions start light.

“What’s always in your travel bag?” “How do you relax between races?” “If you weren’t an F1 driver, what would you be?”

I answer them all. (Sunscreen. Sleep. Veterinarian.)

And then

“So, Monica… the internet wants to know: Are you dating someone?”

There’s a beat of silence. Not awkward. Just quiet.

“I—uh.” I blink. “I don’t usually talk about my personal—”

“We know! That’s why everyone’s curious. There have been some pictures lately—late dinners, hotel lobbies. People are saying—”

I don’t hear the rest. My throat tightens. I nod slowly, a polite smile barely glued on. Livia appears out of nowhere, like a PR magician.

“I’m so sorry,” she cuts in. “We’re running late for a strategy debrief. Tight schedule today.”

The interviewer tried to hide their disappointment, but Livia was already guiding me out of the chair with a hand on my elbow and that fixed “this is fine” smile that PR people must practice in the mirror. Once we’re out of sight, she mutters, “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I lie. In the hallway, I check my phone again. Seb’s message is still sitting there. Still unread.

-----------

Part 3: When the Internet Breaks

[Clip: ‘The Last of Us’ Season 2 – Press Junket | Interview With Pedro Pascal]

Pedro Pascal is seated comfortably and exudes his characteristic warmth and charm.

Interviewer: "Pedro, 'The Last of Us' season 2 episode 2….what an episode it was, it delves deep into love and loss themes. Has portraying Joel influenced your perspective on personal relationships?"

Pedro: "Absolutely. Joel's journey is one of profound connection and vulnerability. It's made me reflect on the importance of having someone who grounds you and brings light into your life amidst chaos, just like Ellie did for him in a daughter-father way."

Interviewer: "That sounds personal. Are you currently experiencing such a connection in your own life, maybe with a lover?"

Pedro: "Well, let's just say I've been fortunate to find someone who brings that kind of light and grounding into my world."

The interviewer raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

Interviewer: "Care to share more?"

Pedro Laughing, shaking his head, "I think I'll leave it at that for now. I don't want trouble."

Within hours, the internet was ablaze with speculation. Social media platforms were flooded with clips of the interview, and fans dissected every word and expression.

Twitter/X – Trending Topics:

PEDRO PASCAL GF???

"Someone who brings light" [1.3M posts]

Monica VCARB edit (soft launch??)

MONICA IS DATING PEDRO

PRINCESS OF THE GRID x INTERNET’S DADDY 😭

Comments under various posts range from excitement to disbelief:

“Imagine going home to the Princess of the Grid and she makes you toast while talking about tyre deg 😭” “She was quiet but had the rizz of a thousand suns.” “Oh my god. THE fanfic is real.”

Private Chat – Daniel Ricciardo & Monica Daniel: So. The internet’s on fire. Pedro and you?

Monica: He didn’t mean to I think He was just talking. That’s how he is. He gets soft and starts talking, and the words fall out

Daniel: That’s adorable. I’m vomiting a little, but it’s adorable. So it’s real? Like, real real?

Monica: Yeah. It’s been a few months now. Met him at an awards thing. He was nice. Didn’t treat me like a headline. Didn’t ask about fame at dinner. Just asked about my favorite books. Stuff no one’s asked in years.

Daniel: You deserve that. You so deserve that. But you’re freaking out, huh.

Monica : I feel like I’m standing on a trapdoor. Like the minute I smile too wide or hold his hand in daylight it’ll open and everyone will pile on. I worked so hard to be taken seriously. Being the first woman in F1 was hell at first. You remember. People said awful stuff. Called me Seb’s “pet project,” remember that? Or the “baby with daddy issues.”

Daniel: Yeah. I remember. I also remember you outqualifying half the grid with a migraine and two hours of sleep. You’ve got scars. Doesn’t mean you hide forever.

Monica: He’s older. People will tear it apart. Say I’m looking for a dad. Say I’m broken. And with mine leaving, I never really figured out how to not let that stuff crawl under my skin. I know it’s stupid. But I’m scared. Of the headlines. Of the comments. Of being too happy and getting punished for it.

Daniel: That’s not stupid. That’s human. But you don’t have to carry it alone. Talk to Seb, Mon. He’s worried. We both are. You’ve got us. You always have us.

Monica: I haven’t opened his text.

Daniel: Mon, you know you have to talk to him at some point

I sat curled up in the corner of the hotel bed, hoodie sleeves pulled over my hands. The room was too cold, not physically, but in that way hotel rooms are when you don’t feel like you belong in them. My phone sat in my lap like it weighed five kilos. Seb’s name had been at the top of my messages for three days. Unread. Unopened. But never ignored. I stared at the notification, thumb hovering over it like the screen might bite back. Then, finally, I tapped.

Sebastian Vettel [3 days ago]: Hey, little one. I saw the headlines. I just wanted to say, I hope it’s true. Not the rumors. The happiness. You’ve always deserved to be loved out loud, not in secret. And you don’t owe anyone an explanation for that. If people try to turn your joy into ammunition, that’s on them, not you. Call me if you want. I’m here. Always. 💛

It hit me in layers. I could hear his voice in my head as I read. His calm, that steady warmth he always had, even when the whole world was watching him. I didn’t cry. Not really. But something loosened in my chest — something I didn’t realize I’d been holding onto so tightly. Like someone had cracked open a window in my ribs and let the stale air out. I stared at the message momentarily before hitting his number and hearing the ringing sound.

----------

Part 4: Eyes on the Paddock

Practice day always feels like the calm before the circus. Except this morning, the circus was already rolling in. By 9 a.m., the paddock was alive, TV crews in place, PR managers buzzing like caffeinated bees, fans pressed against the barriers, phones ready. Security tried to keep a clear path, but the chaos was controlled at best. Sky Sports F1’s Rachel Brookes adjusted her earpiece and stood near the entrance gate, mic in hand, eyes trained on the team hospitality areas. She nodded to the cameraman. “Alright, we're rolling in three, two, one…”

“Good morning from the paddock,” she began, the signature warmth in her voice. “It’s Friday, it’s practice day, and we’re already seeing a few drivers arriving.”

From behind her, someone in the crowd screamed as Charles Leclerc strolled past in Ferrari red, smiling at Leo with Alexandra by his side. Moments later, George Russell appeared with Carmen beside him, both dressed like they had walked out of a campaign shoot.

Rachel turned slightly to the camera. “A few of the grid’s familiar faces are arriving with their partners today, a little off-track love before the focus shifts to race pace.”

Then the air shifted. It wasn’t loud at first. Just… aware. Phones lifted. People stood on their toes. There was a wave of murmurs, the kind that travels fast, faster than even a car down the straight. And then there she was. Monica, the grid princess, walked through the gates like she’d done a thousand times. Cool. Grounded. Calm with her usual sweet smile. Except this time, she wasn’t alone. Pedro Pascal walked beside her, their hands linked, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

Rachel blinked, then leaned toward the camera with a slightly incredulous smile. “And… Monica Cruz is walking in this morning with none other than Pedro Pascal. That… is quite the entrance.”

Click. Flash. Shutter sounds like popcorn. Monica didn’t stop walking. She didn’t pose or break stride. But she looked up briefly, smiled toward the crowd, and gave a small wave with her free hand. Pedro leaned close to her ear, clearly saying something only she could hear. She laughed, genuinely, softly, like no cameras were watching. Rachel, still recovering, added, “Well, that’ll be the shot of the weekend before the engines even start.”

-----

Author note: I had this idea and just had to get it down, even if it’s rough or awkward. I know it’s not perfect, and I apologize if the writing feels unpolished, but I hope the story's heart came through and that you enjoyed the concept. I’d love to keep writing and improving, especially regarding details and dialogue. Next time, I want to include more of Monica interacting with the grid and the other drivers. I hope this first part of the story feels like a good start.

[separatetheyolk]

Hello could you write lando Norris x trans male reader you’re dysphoric and you need lando right now but he’s in his race

Jealousy | Lando Norris x Trans!Male!Reader

ʚɞ featured: Lando Norris

ʚɞ you can’t help but compare yourself to every single driver on the grid.

ʚɞ warnings: maaay cause your own dysphoria, internalised gender stereotypes, I also had to take some creative liberties with reader appearance since I can’t get it right for everyone so reader is like 5’8 and average build.

ʚɞ wordcount: no fucking idea

You wore a smile as you walked down the pit lane, arm wrapped around Lando’s waist as you went. But your eyes weren’t on him.. no they were on every single fucking driver. Not in a sexual or romantic way. Nono instead you were picking them apart, then yourself. Comparing them to yourself every which way possible.

You waved Lando off as he moved to get changed for the race. Sitting down in the garage, looking around at drivers that had already gotten ready. Your eyes landing on Lewis. Specifically his waist. The way it filled out that suit. Then how you didn’t fill out your shirt. There was no dramatically empty space in his suit at the waist like there was with your shirt. There was no cinch in it either. It was just.. perfectly boxed. Perfectly square. Perfect.

Your eyes then turned to Charles. That facial hair an every day reminder of what you couldn’t grow. Two years on testosterone. No matter what you tried it just grew in patchy. And you fucking hated that. You wanted facial hair. Or at least the ability to grow it. Not this.. this stupid fucking perv stash that would grow in every two weeks or so.

Your eyes moved to Carlos next as he walked down the pit lane. His back to you but that didn’t matter. You were able to picture his face. The way it was square, that jawline. The way his skin looked tougher than yours. Yours soft and delicate looking. Lando would bring it up sometimes as a compliment. You didn’t mind it usually, but days like today? Oh you one hundred percent did. The way Carlos’ shoulders filled that shirt perfectly, his back flexing as he walked. His chest defined like yours yes, but yours was defined for all the wrong reasons.

Finally you landed on Max. Five foot eleven. That height was something to be jealous of.. you weren’t exactly short. But compared to him? Regardless, you gave the man a smile when he’d caught your gaze. Turning back to Lando when he’d walked out in his suit. “Go get ‘em tiger.” You smiled to the man, kissing him gently but didn’t let him touch you any further than that.

You’d decided that was enough showing your face for the day when Sky News came to pan into McLaren’s garage. Heading to Lando’s room. Catching yourself in the mirror with a frown. You couldn’t help it, allowing your hand to smooth over your front. Feeling the curve of your chest despite binding. You knew men didn’t exactly have flat chests either. But this.. you hated this.

Then, you brought your hands around to your back. Grabbing the sides of your shirt and pulling back. Pinching the fabric together, you followed the curve of your hips with your gaze. Stepping backwards a few steps then forwards. Watching them sway side to side as you walked. Watching your thighs rub together ever so slightly. Again, you knew men had large thighs. But the fact you knew women had them too, and why they had them? It made you want to claw the fat off.

Tears welled in your eyes, looking at what you thought was quite frankly a disgusting body. Hands letting go of the shirt and sniffling. What a fucking time for it to hit, huh? Right as your boyfriend was going onto the track. You definitely couldn’t bring yourself to go out there now. Not with that image stuck in your head.

Instead, you grabbed the hoodie Lando had worn to the track, throwing it on. It was about the same size as your own despite you being roughly two inches taller so it didn’t really do much to hide your sides. Reluctantly you pulled your phone out, shooting Lando a message, hearing his phone buzz in the bag set to the corner of the room. You knew it would be the case, but part of you still longed for that message back.

You felt awful. You wanted to be there to support Lando. But every moment you spent able to see your body. Knowing others could see your body. It caused you to spiral further.

————————————

Lando sighed as he made his way into the garage. Needing a hug from you big time. That race was a complete disaster. Max crashing into him at turn eleven and ultimately having to withdraw from the race.

He’d paused when he saw your usual seat empty. “Where is he?” Lando asked one of the mechanics, watching the kid shrug his shoulders with a half assed “said he was leaving”. With a frown, the other stepped into the drivers room. He didn’t miss the lack of hoodie as he walked to the bag he’d left. Letting out a chuckle. You’d grabbed his hoodie and left?

He picked up his phone to give you a you a ring, find out where you were when he spotted the message. ‘Hey babe, sorry. I’m really not feeling too good. I’ve headed back to the hotel. Good luck on your race gorgeous, love you <3’

He frowned softly, making quick work of getting changed. Double checking he had everything and turned to his race engineer as he stepped into the garage, pointing to him as he walked. “Get me out of the press interview today.” He’d spoke, shaking his head. “Don’t care how you do it. Who you give the job to. Just get me out of it. I’m leaving.”

“What- Lando!” The call fell on deaf ears as the other rushed out. Making his way through crowds, ignoring photographers and autographs. Ignoring broadcasters and interviewers.

————————————

You’d woken up to the light thunk of a bag hitting the floor. “Hey baby..” Lando whispered when he heard the whine. Realising he’d woken you. “I’m sorry I tried to keep quiet..”

“Did you win?” You asked, looking to the figure at the end of the bed, rubbing your face.

“Nah baby.. DNF. Max went straight into me at turn eleven. But I’m fine.” Slowly he moved to you, crouching down in front and took your hand. “You doin’ okay, handsome? You said you weren’t feeling well..” he placed the back of his hand against your forehead for a moment. “You don’t.. feel overly warm. Have you been sick at all? Need any pain meds?” Lando watched you shuffle along silently telling him what you wanted. Moving to lie beside you, he pulled you close to his chest. His arms wrapping around his boyfriends waist tight.

“Not-“ Lando felt you squirm. Instantly loosening his hold and let you move his arms up to your ribs. “Not there.. please.” You begged.

“One of those days, huh?” He murmered into the back of your shoulder, watching you nod slowly, hearing the odd sniffle from you. He opened his eyes for a moment, looking to you. “Honey, have you taken your binder off yet?”

He watched as you ignored the question, pulling the duvet more so it was more to your chin. “Babe.. please..” his hand ran up and down your back, able to feel under the hoodie where fabric ended and skin begun. “You know you need to take it off if you’re lying down..”

“I can’t..”

“Yes you can-”

“I can’t!” You insisted this time. “I really fucking can’t. I can’t move from bed. I can’t move the covers and I can’t sit up- I can’t I fucking-“ you let out a desperate gasp for air. Closely followed by a sob. “I hate this- I hate it all I-“ You could feel as another sob bubbled at the base of your throat. Swallowing thickly, you suppressed it along with the tears. Men dont cry.

There was silence for a beat, Lando thinking of what exactly to say, and you not wanting to say a word. Eventually though, Lando worked up the courage to break the silence. With a sigh, the driver slowly began to sit up. His hand hovered over your head for a moment but was soon lowered gently into your hair. The touch was hesitent at first. Hesitent but gentle. Being careful of any tangles that had formed during your time asleep in bed and delicately working them out with his fingers. "This.. can sometimes come and go in waves, right?" He asked. Lando had spent months when you first got together at least trying to understand your dysphoria. Never able to fully grasp what it felt like exactly, but knew you hated it and it hurt you regardless. He could see hate for it sometimes, for yourself. He'd watch it fester and bubble until it would explode in a world of hurt for you. He tried to get you to open up before that happened but god was that a hard task. So for now, research over breakfast would have to do. "Did anything cause this? Anything in particular?"

You wondered if you should even respond for a moment. It was downright embarrassing. 'Yeah I got jealous because a bunch of your friends look fucking perfect and I will never look like that'? It sounded pathetic. It sounded weak. Men aren't supposed to be weak.

"Baby? Come on, it's just you and me. You can tell me." Lando spoke again, watching as you turned so your back was no longer facing him. You set your head in his lap, arms wrappping around his thigh and hugged it like you would a teddy bear.

"I.." You let out a groan, eyes fixed to the blank screen of the TV mounted the wall infront of the bed. "I keep noticing little things. Things others have but I don't. Likely never will." You whispered. "It makes me sound like a right fucking creep but i just.." you paused for a moment, swallowing down another growing urge to cry. "I've been out for years, Lando. You tend to notice these things." You felt the man under you shift once you'd explained yourself. Oh god, this was it. He was tired of your pathetic whining and he was calling it quits-

"Baby stand up, take your clothes off and stand in front of that mirror." he spoke, shuffling from under you and slowly began to strip his shirt. "Go on." he encouraged, grabbing the corner of the cover under your chin and pulling it back.

You didn't move for a good minute or so. Staying curled up and drowning in clothes far too big for you. But he waited. Lando waited, sat perched on the coner of the bed in nothing but his boxers. Letting you go at your pace even if you could see the goosebumps forming on his arms and thighs. Five minutes later, you were stood infront of the mirror, boxers and binder still on and your boyfriend stood behind you. "Okay, point out what bothers you."

You looked to Lando in the mirror, expecting his eyes to be on your body. Wondering why the hell he'd picked you to date. He could have gotten with a cis man or woman, not have to deal with this shit and know exactly what he'd get in the package but no. He'd chosen you. And his eyes weren't on your body. They were on you. Focused on your face. Seeing straight past everything you saw as imperfections and just seeing you. Hesitantly, you tore your eyes away from the man and set them to your reflection. Scanning your body. Where the hell do you even begin? "My hips.." You whispered.

"Okay, and what about them don't you like?" He asked, watching as your hands immediately moved to cover them. With a small sigh, Lando took them and set them back down by your sides, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he done so.

"They.. The curves. It's not square. I don't fill out shirts correctly and my jeans have to get fucking tailored because they're always too long."

You watched as the other nodded. Wondering what the point of all this was. He couldn't fix it so why was he making you do this in the first place? "Okay, now look at mine and what do you see?" He asked, moving to stand beside you now. You turned your gaze to the other, watching as his hips curved in ever so slightly. Not as prominant as your own, but definately there.

"But yours.. The fat isnt there." You spoke quietly, Lando chuckling in response and moved his hand to his side. Pinching at the fat sat on the right side of his hip. "Oh there definately is, baby" he spoke, moving his hand round to the front and pinched at fat on his stomach. Lando had never been all muscle, but he'd also never been a twig nor on the chubbier side. Resting comfortably in the middle. You turned your attention to his face, expecting to see disgust but he was.. Smiling? "What else upsets you?"

"I.. My thighs, I guess? They're not awful when i'm standing but when sat down it's.. They're just so in your face."

"Like.." You watches as Lando move to the desk, pulling out the chair from under it and sat down. Muscle and fat shifting to accomodate for the new position. Tops of thighs touching. "This?" You didnt audibly respond, just nodding ever so slightly. Lando gave you a small smile as he stood again, tucking the chair back in and moved back behind you again. "Okay, and what else?"

"My chest obviously.. Also my face? It's more round then square and I still cant grow a fucking beard." There was, again, another chuckle from the driver as he pressed a kiss to your back inbetween your shoulder blades. The kiss set to the fabric of your binder. "Babe why do you think the most facial hair I rock is a goatee? I've been able to grow facial hair for what.. Nine years? And still, it's patchy as fuck." Well.. You supposed that made sense. "Okay. So what do you like?"

"I.. My hands? They're not delicate or dainty but they're also not massive. And my height too.. Sometimes. As long as I'm not standing next to Max but he can't help that-" You stopped yourself when you realised you were beginning to ramble. "What's the point in all this anyway?"

You turning to look to your boyfriend, letting him guide you back to he bed and set you down on the edge. "Because.." He crouched down in front of you effortlessly, sighing softly. "There is no perfect man, baby. There is no man who's five ten, box like figure, perfect thighs and arms, square face with perfectly groomed facial hair, a great and full hairline and clear skin. It seems like there is because you're picking out the best of us, stitching it together and comparing it to yourself. In reality? Every man has their "flaws". I've got a slightly curved waist, kinda big thighs, and I cant grow facial hair for the life of me. Alex is as thin as a twig. Lewis has a fucking awful hairline-"

"Lewis is forty, Lando-"

"And I'm sure my hairline will be just as bad as his at that age." He chuckled. "But baby, there is no perfect man, and I need you to stop comparing yourself to the one you've created and convicned yourself you absolutely need to because I can guarantee you, he doesnt exist. And he never will." He watched you nod slowly, keeping silent.

He stood with a sigh, grabbing his hoodie you'd discarded on the floor while getting undressed and set it down in your lap. "Now, you go take your binder off while I order your favourite. Okay?" Again, another nod. He smiled softly, setting two fingers under your chin and carefully tipped your head back. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and then another to your lips before letting you hide your face in his stomach for a moment. He set his hand in your hair, carding through it gently. "You're perfect to me, baby.. I'll do this as many times as I have to if it means it helps."

"Love you.."

"I love you too.."

[notforpenance]

genuinely curious about every single one of your carcar wips, i love the way you write them!! but can we get a little peek at ‘only natural’ please 🙏🏻

two for only natural, so i put it all in one post (:

so only natural is prob a one-shot or maybe like a short little like three or four chapter piece... it's actually probably my least developed out of all of my wip

it's hybrid au carcar

oscar is a rabbit hybrid (of course) and carlos is a fox hybrid. oscar gets along with everyone on the grid except for carlos because he is fairly certain that carlos wants to eat him... and carlos does want to eat him just not exactly in the way that oscar thinks he wants to eat him

not like super deep hybrid au just like ears and tails / defining features and some mannerisms

theres been a few hybrid au carcar fics (and art) which have inspired it

heres a snippet:

Oscar’s body is not built for racing. 

His ears are too long, making them difficult and painful to fit underneath his helmet, and his tail is too stubby, making it uncomfortable to sit in the car at the angle required. 

Of course, Oscar does not complain about it; others have it far worse; it must be difficult for George to race with his antlers getting in the way. Oscar knows he had to get a specialized helmet, which must’ve caused a lot of hassle. 

By the time Oscar gets out of his car, Charles is already pulling off his helmet, his ears flipping up from where they were pressed against his head, and his hair is a mess. His tail is whipping back and forth behind him like a safety hazard. Oscar thinks that if he gets too close, its force would be enough to knock him off his feet. 

He doesn’t blame Charles, winning the Monaco Grand Prix for the first time as a Monegasque is undoubtedly cause for the amount of excitement he is exhibiting. 

Oscar removes his helmet as Charles hugs his team. He deposits it on the little second-place stand. Oscar runs a hand through his hair, stopping for a second to rub a circle or two at the bases of his irritated ears. 

He glances back at Charles again before looking at their cars. In first, Charles, in second, himself, and in third…

Oscar has never been the type to judge people based on their features. Times have changed a lot since the past when hybridization was so rare that it was nearly one in a million. Most of the obscure stigmas have faded into the past. Since it became legal for hybrids to join Formula One and the population shifted to the majority being hybrids, the number of non-hybrids on the grid lessened each year. To Oscar and most everyone else, everyone is just a person with extra ears and a tail or maybe another interesting feature, and those do not define them. 

Except for Carlos. 

Oscar’s nose twitches. He glances at Carlos, who has only just taken off his helmet, depositing it down unceremoniously. Carlos takes off the little headband he uses to keep his ears down. They pop up immediately, grateful to be free from the confines of his helmet, bright orange and black-tipped. One flicks back for a second, and Oscar swallows thickly. 

It is only natural.

Oscar moves, reaching out for his washcloth with shaky hands, bringing it up to wipe the sweat off of his face, gnawing uncomfortably on the inside of his mouth. He peers back at Carlos, whose fluffy tail swishes back and forth calmly. Carlos takes a large swig of his water, and Oscar watches his Adam's apple bob as he swallows it. Then, he glances around for a few moments before making eye contact with Oscar. Carlos’s tail stops abruptly, stuttering in its movement and then continuing. 

Something harsh zaps through Oscar’s body: fight or flight. 

Oscar exhales shakily, glancing behind him, hoping Carlos is looking at someone else. He is not. Carlos is walking toward him. Oscar cannot tell if it is on purpose or if Carlos has not grasped this little issue that he keeps running into, but for whatever reason, Carlos is not at all deterred from interacting with Oscar. 

Carlos gets a little closer. Oscar turns sharply and walks toward his team instead, hoping to dodge the encounter. He glances back at Carlos, whose expression seems to downturn for a half second. But he has escaped, at least he thinks that he’s escaped, and then bumps into Charles, who wraps an arm around his shoulders and turns him around. Very suddenly Carlos is right in his face, and Oscar cannot help but stare at him wide-eyed and fearful. 

“Good job on your second place,” Charles coos at him. Oscar inhales. 

“Congrats, mate, it's about time you won this thing.” He hears the words come out of his mouth, but it must be some magic force forming them because Oscar cannot tear his eyes away from Carlos. Charles grins, and his tail hits against the back of Oscar’s legs. That thing should be considered a safety hazard at this point. Carlos is saying something, reaching out to clasp hands with Charles affectionately. Oscar cowers away from the motion, and while Charles is caught up in his victory, Carlos definitely seems to notice, his brow furrowing. 

Oscar purses his lips. 

“Good race,” Carlos says, and Oscar realizes that Charles has promptly disappeared, which means Carlos is talking to him. 

Good race? What is he supposed to say to that? 

Oscar settles for a curt nod, taking a cautious step backwards. Carlos watches as he widens the gap between them, his eyes narrowing for a split second. 

“I thought really I could pass you when-” Carlos starts. 

Oscar gestures in the direction of his team, cutting Carlos off. 

“My… uh- team-” He feels like an idiot for how incoherent that sounded. Carlos glances between Oscar and his team. It is then that Carlos’s face truly falls, his tail stops moving entirely, and one of his ears flicks back. Oscar rushes away before he can see anymore, his back to Carlos, as he hurries to the safety of his team. 

He doesn’t mean to make Carlos feel bad. It’s just that-

“Charles asked me to ask you why you keep breaking Carlos,” Max asks him when they go out later that night. Charles has managed to convince Oscar to join them at the Ferrari party, and Max just happens to be here too, for reasons Oscar tries very hard not to think about. Max’s tail is curled around his own leg, and his third drink is nearly finished. Lando flounders around next to him, unable to stay still.  

“Breaking Carlos?” Oscar questions. Max gives him a look. 

“Come on, mate, every time he gets done talking to you, he looks like a kicked dog,” Lando teases. It is so embarrassing that Oscar doesn’t want to say it out loud. 

“I’m scared of him,” Oscar admits. Lando lets out a laugh, and Oscar flushes softly, glancing away. Max’s eyebrows narrow in confusion as he intakes the phrase. One of his ears twitches, and he reaches up to scratch his head. 

“What?” Max questions. Oscar fumbles around a bit, unsure how to explain without outright saying it. 

“Because I’m… you know,” he gestures at himself. “And he’s…” Max raises an eyebrow. Oscar supposes it wasn’t the most descriptive pointer as to the exact problem. “You know,” he says again, he gestures up at his ears. Max squints, leaning forward, trying to make the connection. He tilts his head to the side. 

“You are not scared of me,” he points out, and Oscar knows he’s finally gotten it. Max is a cat hybrid, so the statement is valid. 

Oscar has spent a while trying to determine precisely why Carlos scares him since other natural predator hybrids don’t. He has no problem with Max or Charles, who in theory could be a predators to him. He has no issue with Logan’s eagle features or Fred’s raccoon ones. It’s just Carlos. 

The reality is that it’s all in how they look at him. Max always seems so indifferent when he looks at Oscar. Charles always looks at him with the fondness of a friend. And Carlos… well…

“He’s always looking at me like he wants to eat me,” Oscar claims. Max snorts, putting his hand over his mouth to cover up his laugh, and Lando cackles wholeheartedly, nearly falling out of the booth and onto the ground in his amusement. 

“Oh, mate,” he wheezes. “He wants to eat you all right, just-” his words are interrupted by his own laughter as he gestures around aimlessly. “Just not how you’re thinking.” 

(let me just say i don't want to hear one word about zootopia LOLOL i only thought about that after i wrote what i have so far and its like 95% of the reason that i haven't finished it...)

[soft4changbin]

No labels, just us

Situationship Theo x reader

Summary: You and Theo are stuck in a quiet situationship, afraid to define it—until one night, he finally admits it’s always meant more.

Word count: 1,999

You’ve always been bad at labeling things.

Friend. Lover. Crush.

What does it mean when he lingers a little longer in your apartment than he needs to? When he leans in during a movie and his pinky brushes yours—but doesn’t move away? When he sends a goodnight text that has no emojis but still somehow feels tender?

Theo is hard to pin down.

So are you.

It started like most stories do these days—mutual friends, a half-full bar, a low-hum buzz of music, and the kind of conversation that stretches just long enough to feel like a coincidence. You’d talked about your favorite shows, how annoying Seoul traffic was, and why you thought horoscopes were a scam.

Theo had laughed—low, genuine—and said, “You really don’t believe in signs?”

“I believe in actions,” you’d replied, finishing your drink. “Not vibes.”

He’d smiled in that soft, unreadable way of his and offered to walk you home.

You didn’t expect to see him again.

But a week later, he texted.

Now it’s been months.

Three AM and he’s lying next to you, scrolling through something on his phone while you lie wide awake, watching the way the screen lights up the slope of his nose.

“You’re not tired?” he asks, voice low.

You shake your head.

Theo glances at you, then sets the phone on the nightstand. He’s quiet for a second before asking, “Want me to play something? Like… those ambient rain videos you always listen to?”

It’s not romantic, not really. But it is thoughtful. And it’s enough to make your chest ache just a little.

You nod. “Yeah. That’d be nice.”

He cues up a looped rainfall track and leans back against the headboard, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling like he’s trying to read secrets in the plaster.

You don’t touch him.

You never do first.

People talk about situationships like they’re all casual and light. Like it’s easy.

But this?

This is walking on a tightrope that stretches between two skyscrapers. You’re always balancing—hope and reality in either hand.

You go out for food, not dates. You sit close, but you never kiss in public. You’ve met his friends, but he’s never said, This is her. Just your name. Like it means something, but never defines it.

Still, you know the things that matter.

Theo likes caramel more than chocolate. He hums when he brushes his teeth. His hands get cold when he’s nervous.

You know how he hates being misunderstood. How sometimes, in the middle of a conversation, he just gets quiet—not because he’s upset, but because he’s thinking too fast to explain himself.

And he knows you cry when you get angry. That you hate being touched when you’re overwhelmed. That sometimes you pretend to be okay just so people won’t ask questions.

You know each other deeply.

You just don’t know where you stand.

One night, you sit on your rooftop eating convenience store ice cream straight from the tub, legs swinging over the edge. Theo’s beside you, hoodie pulled low over his hair, the city glittering below like spilled glitter.

“I think I want to quit,” you say suddenly.

He glances at you. “Quit what?”

“My job.” You dig your spoon into the tub and shrug. “It’s not what I thought it would be. I’m always tired. I feel like I’m… not living. Just performing, you know?”

Theo hums. “Yeah. I get that.”

You look over at him. “Do you ever think about just disappearing? Like… throwing your phone into the Han River and going off-grid?”

“More than you’d think.”

The ice cream melts between you.

“I like this,” you say, quietly.

“What? The ice cream?”

You shake your head, eyes on the skyline. “No. This. Us. When it’s quiet. When I don’t have to pretend I’m not hoping for more.”

You don’t usually talk like this. You don’t usually let yourself bleed in front of him.

Theo goes still beside you. The only sound is the traffic below and the faint buzz of a plane cutting across the sky.

Then he speaks.

“I think about you all the time,” he says. “Even when I try not to.”

Your breath catches.

“But I’m scared I can’t be what you need.”

You nod. Slow. Honest. “Then tell me. Let me decide if I still want to stay.”

Theo looks at you. Really looks. The kind of look that’s heavy with words he’ll never say out loud.

“I don’t know what this is,” he murmurs. “But I don’t want to lose it.”

Neither do you.

But is that enough?

Weeks pass. Nothing changes. Everything changes.

You stop bringing up the what are we questions. He stops trying to answer them.

But you still meet on your rooftop. You still sleep tangled up in each other on weekends. You still text him when something funny happens, and he still sends you voice notes when he’s on the road, just to say he’s thinking of you.

Sometimes, late at night, you wonder if this is love dressed in denial. Or if it’s just loneliness with good lighting.

One night, Theo shows up at your apartment soaking wet. No umbrella. No warning.

You stare at him from the doorway. “What happened to—”

“I had to see you.”

Your throat dries. “You could’ve texted.”

“I didn’t want to give myself time to overthink.”

His voice is raw, his hair dripping. You step aside to let him in.

He kicks off his shoes, breathing hard. Not from running. From nerves.

“I keep trying to act like this is casual,” he says, standing in your living room like he’s afraid it’ll disappear. “But it’s not. Not to me.”

You swallow. “Then what is it?”

Theo hesitates, then takes a step toward you.

“You matter to me,” he says softly. “More than I let on. More than I know how to show sometimes.”

Your heart thunders. “Then say it.”

“I’m scared.”

“So am I.”

Another beat.

Then he closes the distance. Gently. Carefully. His hands hover near your waist like he’s asking for permission. You lean in first.

The kiss is slow. Warm. Familiar. But also entirely new. Like you’ve been orbiting each other for months and finally found the gravity to land.

Later, wrapped in dry clothes and limbs, you lie on the couch, his fingers tracing circles on your bare shoulder.

“I don’t want a label,” he says.

You tense.

“But I do want to try,” he continues. “For real. No more pretending it doesn’t mean something.”

You tilt your head to look at him. “Is that your way of asking me to be with you?”

He smirks. “Maybe.”

“Then you suck at asking.”

Theo laughs—quiet, soft, real. “Will you be mine?”

You reach for his hand. “Only if you’ll be mine too.”

He nods, threading your fingers together.

“Deal.”

You never thought a situationship could turn into something real. But maybe it wasn’t casual to begin with.

Maybe it was always love—just waiting for both of you to admit it.

In the half-light of your living room, with the rain still whispering against the windows, you think maybe this is what it feels like to finally arrive.

Not in a perfect ending.

But in a real beginning.

[russellius]

George Russell Is Stepping Into His Leading Man Era: "I Feel Confident in the Team"

The Formula One driver and 'F1' movie star talks helmet hair, James Bond, and his future at Mercedes.

By Crystal Bell 

Published on June 27, 2025 @ 10:22AM

George Russell isn’t camera-shy. A few hours before the world premiere of the Brad Pitt-led F1 movie (out now), in which Russell makes a cameo, the Mercedes driver, 27, is posing with fans in the middle of Times Square. His honey-brown hair is perfectly tousled, his piercing blue eyes even more striking in person. He’s tall, charming, and unmistakably British, the kind of guy who could easily inspire a Taylor Swift lyric.

Of course, he’s had practice. As one of the breakout personalities on Netflix’s Drive to Survive, Russell has grown increasingly comfortable with life in the spotlight. But he’s fresh off a very different kind of attention: a win at the Canadian Grand Prix, his fourth career victory, and a result that’s sparked talk of him being this season's dark horse. In a year defined by shake ups across the grid, Russell has quietly emerged as one of the sport’s most consistent drivers. 

Less than 24 hours after taking the checkered flag in Montreal, Russell hopped on a flight to New York and sat down with InStyle before heading straight to the red carpet. After that? Another flight, this time for some well-earned rest before the Austrian Grand Prix this upcoming weekend.

Now in his seventh year on the F1 grid, Russell is stepping into a new era—one where he’s no longer just Lewis Hamilton’s teammate, but Mercedes’ leading man. And according to him, he’s just getting started.

Congrats on your win yesterday at the Canadian Grand Prix! How'd you celebrate? You didn't have much time to.

By going to New York. We live such a fast-paced lifestyle. Unfortunately, you sometimes don't have time to celebrate, which is a bit of a shame. But there are other times when you do. The last victory we had was in Vegas [at the 2024 Las Vegas Grand Prix]. We had a big celebration there. Here we didn't. The celebrations were slightly muted because we're also in the middle of the season. Of course, one victory is great. Our aspirations are far greater. So our mind is still very much in the game to achieve more of these.

I saw some clips of your Champagne shower go viral. I've always been curious: What is that sensation like? 

It's a very special moment. Because you're living this moment with your whole team, who have contributed to this result, and then you're all feeling this emotion of happiness, excitement, and relief. And it's like, you know, popping the Champagne has been quite a thing in Formula 1. And when you're doing that with your whole team and fully going for it, it makes the moment quite memorable. 

It's sticky, though, right? 

It's very sticky. I did try to run off a little bit yesterday because Toto [Wolff]'s plane is quite nice, and if I rocked up covered in Champagne, he'd probably be upset. 

I did see that clip of you leaving your teammate, Kimi Antonelli, who scored his first career podium, to fend for himself. 

Yeah, a little bit. He's the new kid on the block. So I wanted to let him enjoy the moment. 

A lot of people say you're one of, if not the most consistent, driver on the grid. You finished in the top five in a majority of races this season. How do you feel about that title? 

I don't feel anything really, because it doesn't mean an awful lot. I'm just going about my business, and I'm happy with how I'm performing. I don't think I've ever performed stronger. The results are showing, and you've to base your conclusions on the potential of the car. And the potential of the car in Montreal was to win, and we won. Other races, the car's potential was fifth, and we finished third, so we outperformed its potential. Some of our rivals, despite the potential of their cars, are not winning. So that is how I judge my performance. I'm fourth in the championship. That is not where I want to be, but we have delivered the maximum potential of our car more than others have. 

The F1 fandom has undergone significant changes over the last five years. It's become a lot younger. More women are fans of F1. There's also a thriving internet ecosystem surrounding it, with numerous memes, edits, and similar content. As a driver who has been in the seat for a few years now, have you felt that shift firsthand?

It's been an immense shift over the last few years. It all came together at once; we'd all lived through the challenges of COVID, the lack of social interaction, and the lack of entertainment. And then Drive to Survive was present. Formula 1 was the first sport back, which, considering the logistical challenges we face, is a pretty impressive statement. And then the 2021 season was, obviously, an amazing season. All of those factors have made the sport what it is today. Seeing the movie coming out now, and the partnerships with the likes of Disney, Formula 1 is not only booming, but I feel it's gonna stay here for a long time. 

You're here in New York for the film's premiere. You're in the film. Between Drive to Survive and this movie, I feel like you're constantly surrounded by cameras in the paddock. What's that like?

It's so common now that we forget they're even there. I think [with] Netflix, some drivers felt a bit of their privacy invaded when you have the camera and the microphone boom in your face for every conversation you have. But it's given the sport a whole new dynamic, whereby fans love seeing our personalities and what really goes on in our lives.

Speaking of the fans, I'm sure you've seen the memes. You're quite meme'd on the internet. What are your thoughts about it? 

I think it's great. Part of British humor is taking the Mickey out of yourself, and that's basically what the memes have always been. I'm never shy about being sarcastic or having a bit of a dry sense of humor. I enjoy the memes. 

I feel like you're one of the drivers who enjoys doing these interviews. Some drivers, not so much. 

I always try to put a positive spin on things. And it's an easier way to showcase who you are in front of an interview, as opposed to, sometimes on social media when you're hidden behind a camera and you're posting photos, it's quite easy to portray something different to the reality in a positive or negative way, whereas whenever I'm doing a TV interview, I always feel I can be a bit more myself.

One of your post-race TV interviews that gets shared almost every race weekend is the iconic "he lashes out in unnecessary anger and borderline violence." How do you feel about that clip now? 

All publicity is good publicity. I don't really have any feelings about it. That's what I said. That's what I meant. And you can then use it in whichever context you desire. I'm glad people are making use of it. 

You mentioned that you feel better than ever this season, and the results are showing it. What is it that changed for you?

Not a huge amount, to be honest. You just learn through experience, and you nail in on the details of certain things. You're looking for those last half-a-percent in small areas, and I feel more rounded as a driver. I haven't made any mistakes this year. My pace has been really strong. My race starts have been good. I feel confident in the team. They trust in me. I trust in them. There's just good harmony within the team right now.

You're also the senior driver on the team this year. Do you feel a change in the dynamic? And how have you approached that?

Naturally, there is a change, because Lewis [Hamilton] had achieved so much for the team and so much for himself. There's such a long-standing relationship with the team and him that when you have something new, such as Kimi [Antonelli], it sort of started from a clean slate, and things feel a little bit calmer in between now and a bit more rational, maybe.

And, of course, when you've achieved the success that Lewis has achieved, anything other than a championship fight is a total failure. So, of course, tensions were high for him because he's also coming to the end of his career, whereas now, you know, I'm 27, but I still feel I've got a good 10 to 15 years left in me. Kimi is right at the beginning of his career, so we're viewing things slightly differently. 

The fans seem to like the brotherly relationship between you and Kimi this season. 

I definitely feel like the older brother, no doubt about that. But it's a very nice relationship we've got at the moment. And it's working. Kimi is bringing good energy to the team. He's bringing youth. And for myself, it's my fourth year on the team, and I feel very close with everybody, and it has given me the confidence to speak up slightly more and to be more myself. 

I know you're about to get ready for this red carpet premiere. How would you describe your style in three words? 

Understated. I will always try to dress in a timeless fashion. I'm not looking to stand out. So, understated, timeless, and British. 

What does that mean? How do you dress British? 

James Bond is British. David Beckham is British.

They are very different, no? 

They are different, but David Beckham, over the last five years, is more aligned with James Bond than he was 20 years prior. That is probably more my style.

So, not David Beckham in a sarong?

No. Maybe one day. 

How do you think other people perceive your style? 

They'll probably say boring, to be honest. But I like dressing smart. I like to come across well. That's where I feel most comfortable. I like to put the effort in, but I'm not trying to go over the top. I'm not trying to wear wacky stuff. I'm just trying to be myself. 

Over the last two or three years, it seems like you’ve been investing more in your personal style—even your hair has become a bit of a signature. Do you think that shift came with age, or was it about feeling more confident in expressing yourself?

I've progressed a lot in the last two years, but probably in two years' time, I'll look back where I am now and say, ‘What was I thinking?’ When you grow older, you learn more about yourself. Of course, for me, a couple of years ago, my first year with Mercedes alongside Lewis, you can argue it was daunting in some regards, probably more from the things off the track than on the track, because the on-track stuff is where I feel most confident, and that's where I feel myself. But he was a worldwide superstar, so that came with its challenges being alongside him, but now I just feel confident in myself.

F1 drivers are increasingly being viewed as celebrities, and you do hold a lot of influence. Do you ever feel like a celebrity? 

No, not at all. Since getting to know celebrities like Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise, and Beckham, when you spend time with these individuals, you recognize they are normal people. They are extremely good at what they do and the very high-profile things they do, but they are ordinary people who do the same things for breakfast, lunch, and dinner as the majority of us, and go to bed like the majority of us, and do all of these things that we all do. And that's why, now that I'm in the public eye, I don't feel any different. I still have my girlfriend, [Carmen Montero Mundt], who was with me from the beginning, and my friends who were there from before F1; that helps keep me grounded a bit.

Since you mentioned working alongside Brad Pitt in this film, some of the other drivers said you're the best actor on the grid. Is that a possible future career for you? 

Some people put me forth for the James Bond gig, so maybe post-career, I'll consider it. The James Bond franchise is one of my favorite movie series. That's what I used to watch with my dad when I was a kid, and being patriotic, you love James Bond. So never say no. 

Lastly, I need to know how you protect your hair under your helmet. Because your hair always looks perfect. 

I put a bit of wax and a bit of spray in my hair. The norm. I've actually started wearing a headband before I drive to help flick the hair back. And when I put the balaclava on, the hair sits backwards, so when I take it off, it flicks back up into place. It depends on how much I've been sweating or not, but generally, my helmet hair is alright.

[umgeorge]

George Russell Is Stepping Into His Leading Man Era: "I Feel Confident In the Team"

The Formula One driver and 'F1' movie star talks helmet hair, James Bond, and his future at Mercedes.

George Russell isn’t camera-shy. A few hours before the world premiere of the Brad Pitt-led F1 movie (out now), in which Russell makes a cameo, the Mercedes driver, 27, is posing with fans in the middle of Times Square. His honey-brown hair is perfectly tousled, his piercing blue eyes even more striking in person. He’s tall, charming, and unmistakably British, the kind of guy who could easily inspire a Taylor Swift lyric. Of course, he’s had practice. As one of the breakout personalities on Netflix’s Drive to Survive, Russell has grown increasingly comfortable with life in the spotlight. But he’s fresh off a very different kind of attention: a win at the Canadian Grand Prix, his fourth career victory, and a result that’s sparked talk of him being this season's dark horse. In a year defined by shake ups across the grid, Russell has quietly emerged as one of the sport’s most consistent drivers.  Less than 24 hours after taking the checkered flag in Montreal, Russell hopped on a flight to New York and sat down with InStyle before heading straight to the red carpet. After that? Another flight, this time for some well-earned rest before the Austrian Grand Prix this upcoming weekend.

Now in his seventh year on the F1 grid, Russell is stepping into a new era—one where he’s no longer just Lewis Hamilton’s teammate, but Mercedes’ leading man. And according to him, he’s just getting started.

Congrats on your win yesterday at the Canadian Grand Prix! How'd you celebrate? You didn't have much time to. By going to New York. We live such a fast-paced lifestyle. Unfortunately, you sometimes don't have time to celebrate, which is a bit of a shame. But there are other times when you do. The last victory we had was in Vegas [at the 2024 Las Vegas Grand Prix]. We had a big celebration there. Here we didn't. The celebrations were slightly muted because we're also in the middle of the season. Of course, one victory is great. Our aspirations are far greater. So our mind is still very much in the game to achieve more of these.

I saw some clips of your Champagne shower go viral. I've always been curious: What is that sensation like?  It's a very special moment. Because you're living this moment with your whole team, who have contributed to this result, and then you're all feeling this emotion of happiness, excitement, and relief. And it's like, you know, popping the Champagne has been quite a thing in Formula 1. And when you're doing that with your whole team and fully going for it, it makes the moment quite memorable. 

It's sticky, though, right?  It's very sticky. I did try to run off a little bit yesterday because Toto [Wolff]'s plane is quite nice, and if I rocked up covered in Champagne, he'd probably be upset. 

I did see that clip of you leaving your teammate, Kimi Antonelli, who scored his first career podium, to fend for himself.  Yeah, a little bit. He's the new kid on the block. So I wanted to let him enjoy the moment. 

A lot of people say you're one of, if not the most consistent, driver on the grid. You finished in the top five in a majority of races this season. How do you feel about that title?  I don't feel anything really, because it doesn't mean an awful lot. I'm just going about my business, and I'm happy with how I'm performing. I don't think I've ever performed stronger. The results are showing, and you've to base your conclusions on the potential of the car. And the potential of the car in Montreal was to win, and we won. Other races, the car's potential was fifth, and we finished third, so we outperformed its potential. Some of our rivals, despite the potential of their cars, are not winning. So that is how I judge my performance. I'm fourth in the championship. That is not where I want to be, but we have delivered the maximum potential of our car more than others have. 

The F1 fandom has undergone significant changes over the last five years. It's become a lot younger. More women are fans of F1. There's also a thriving internet ecosystem surrounding it, with numerous memes, edits, and similar content. As a driver who has been in the seat for a few years now, have you felt that shift firsthand? It's been an immense shift over the last few years. It all came together at once; we'd all lived through the challenges of COVID, the lack of social interaction, and the lack of entertainment. And then Drive to Survive was present. Formula 1 was the first sport back, which, considering the logistical challenges we face, is a pretty impressive statement. And then the 2021 season was, obviously, an amazing season. All of those factors have made the sport what it is today. Seeing the movie coming out now, and the partnerships with the likes of Disney, Formula 1 is not only booming, but I feel it's gonna stay here for a long time.

You're here in New York for the film's premiere. You're in the film. Between Drive to Survive and this movie, I feel like you're constantly surrounded by cameras in the paddock. What's that like? It's so common now that we forget they're even there. I think [with] Netflix, some drivers felt a bit of their privacy invaded when you have the camera and the microphone boom in your face for every conversation you have. But it's given the sport a whole new dynamic, whereby fans love seeing our personalities and what really goes on in our lives.

Speaking of the fans, I'm sure you've seen the memes. You're quite meme'd on the internet. What are your thoughts about it?  I think it's great. Part of British humor is taking the Mickey out of yourself, and that's basically what the memes have always been. I'm never shy about being sarcastic or having a bit of a dry sense of humor. I enjoy the memes.

I feel like you're one of the drivers who enjoys doing these interviews. Some drivers, not so much.  I always try to put a positive spin on things. And it's an easier way to showcase who you are in front of an interview, as opposed to, sometimes on social media when you're hidden behind a camera and you're posting photos, it's quite easy to portray something different to the reality in a positive or negative way, whereas whenever I'm doing a TV interview, I always feel I can be a bit more myself.

One of your post-race TV interviews that gets shared almost every race weekend is the iconic "he lashes out in unnecessary anger and borderline violence." How do you feel about that clip now?  All publicity is good publicity. I don't really have any feelings about it. That's what I said. That's what I meant. And you can then use it in whichever context you desire. I'm glad people are making use of it. 

You mentioned that you feel better than ever this season, and the results are showing it. What is it that changed for you? Not a huge amount, to be honest. You just learn through experience, and you nail in on the details of certain things. You're looking for those last half-a-percent in small areas, and I feel more rounded as a driver. I haven't made any mistakes this year. My pace has been really strong. My race starts have been good. I feel confident in the team. They trust in me. I trust in them. There's just good harmony within the team right now.

You're also the senior driver on the team this year. Do you feel a change in the dynamic? And how have you approached that? Naturally, there is a change, because Lewis [Hamilton] had achieved so much for the team and so much for himself. There's such a long-standing relationship with the team and him that when you have something new, such as Kimi [Antonelli], it sort of started from a clean slate, and things feel a little bit calmer in between now and a bit more rational, maybe. And, of course, when you've achieved the success that Lewis has achieved, anything other than a championship fight is a total failure. So, of course, tensions were high for him because he's also coming to the end of his career, whereas now, you know, I'm 27, but I still feel I've got a good 10 to 15 years left in me. Kimi is right at the beginning of his career, so we're viewing things slightly differently. 

The fans seem to like the brotherly relationship between you and Kimi this season.  I definitely feel like the older brother, no doubt about that. But it's a very nice relationship we've got at the moment. And it's working. Kimi is bringing good energy to the team. He's bringing youth. And for myself, it's my fourth year on the team, and I feel very close with everybody, and it has given me the confidence to speak up slightly more and to be more myself.  I know you're about to get ready for this red carpet premiere. How would you describe your style in three words?  Understated. I will always try to dress in a timeless fashion. I'm not looking to stand out. So, understated, timeless, and British. 

What does that mean? How do you dress British?  James Bond is British. David Beckham is British.

They are very different, no?  They are different, but David Beckham, over the last five years, is more aligned with James Bond than he was 20 years prior. That is probably more my style.

So, not David Beckham in a sarong? No. Maybe one day.  How do you think other people perceive your style?  They'll probably say boring, to be honest. But I like dressing smart. I like to come across well. That's where I feel most comfortable. I like to put the effort in, but I'm not trying to go over the top. I'm not trying to wear wacky stuff. I'm just trying to be myself. 

Over the last two or three years, it seems like you’ve been investing more in your personal style—even your hair has become a bit of a signature. Do you think that shift came with age, or was it about feeling more confident in expressing yourself? I've progressed a lot in the last two years, but probably in two years' time, I'll look back where I am now and say, ‘What was I thinking?’ When you grow older, you learn more about yourself. Of course, for me, a couple of years ago, my first year with Mercedes alongside Lewis, you can argue it was daunting in some regards, probably more from the things off the track than on the track, because the on-track stuff is where I feel most confident, and that's where I feel myself. But he was a worldwide superstar, so that came with its challenges being alongside him, but now I just feel confident in myself.

F1 drivers are increasingly being viewed as celebrities, and you do hold a lot of influence. Do you ever feel like a celebrity?  No, not at all. Since getting to know celebrities like Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise, and Beckham, when you spend time with these individuals, you recognize they are normal people. They are extremely good at what they do and the very high-profile things they do, but they are ordinary people who do the same things for breakfast, lunch, and dinner as the majority of us, and go to bed like the majority of us, and do all of these things that we all do. And that's why, now that I'm in the public eye, I don't feel any different. I still have my girlfriend, [Carmen Montero Mundt], who was with me from the beginning, and my friends who were there from before F1; that helps keep me grounded a bit.

Since you mentioned working alongside Brad Pitt in this film, some of the other drivers said you're the best actor on the grid. Is that a possible future career for you?  Some people put me forth for the James Bond gig, so maybe post-career, I'll consider it. The James Bond franchise is one of my favorite movie series. That's what I used to watch with my dad when I was a kid, and being patriotic, you love James Bond. So never say no. 

Lastly, I need to know how you protect your hair under your helmet. Because your hair always looks perfect.  I put a bit of wax and a bit of spray in my hair. The norm. I've actually started wearing a headband before I drive to help flick the hair back. And when I put the balaclava on, the hair sits backwards, so when I take it off, it flicks back up into place. It depends on how much I've been sweating or not, but generally, my helmet hair is alright.

[russilton]

George Russell Is Stepping Into His Leading Man Era: "I Feel Confident in the Team"

The Formula One driver and 'F1' movie star talks helmet hair, James Bond, and his future at Mercedes. 

By Crystal Bell  Published on June 27, 2025 @ 10:22AM

Mercedes-AMG PETRONAS F1 Team

George for InStyle (source) - Full article also Below

George Russell isn’t camera-shy. A few hours before the world premiere of the Brad Pitt-led F1 movie (out now), in which Russell makes a cameo, the Mercedes driver, 27, is posing with fans in the middle of Times Square. His honey-brown hair is perfectly tousled, his piercing blue eyes even more striking in person. He’s tall, charming, and unmistakably British, the kind of guy who could easily inspire a Taylor Swift lyric.

Of course, he’s had practice. As one of the breakout personalities on Netflix’s Drive to Survive, Russell has grown increasingly comfortable with life in the spotlight. But he’s fresh off a very different kind of attention: a win at the Canadian Grand Prix, his fourth career victory, and a result that’s sparked talk of him being this season's dark horse. In a year defined by shake ups across the grid, Russell has quietly emerged as one of the sport’s most consistent drivers. 

Less than 24 hours after taking the checkered flag in Montreal, Russell hopped on a flight to New York and sat down with InStyle before heading straight to the red carpet. After that? Another flight, this time for some well-earned rest before the Austrian Grand Prix this upcoming weekend.

Mercedes-AMG PETRONAS F1 Team

Now in his seventh year on the F1 grid, Russell is stepping into a new era—one where he’s no longer just Lewis Hamilton’s teammate, but Mercedes’ leading man. And according to him, he’s just getting started.

Congrats on your win yesterday at the Canadian Grand Prix! How'd you celebrate? You didn't have much time to. By going to New York. We live such a fast-paced lifestyle. Unfortunately, you sometimes don't have time to celebrate, which is a bit of a shame. But there are other times when you do. The last victory we had was in Vegas [at the 2024 Las Vegas Grand Prix]. We had a big celebration there. Here we didn't. The celebrations were slightly muted because we're also in the middle of the season. Of course, one victory is great. Our aspirations are far greater. So our mind is still very much in the game to achieve more of these.

I saw some clips of your Champagne shower go viral. I've always been curious: What is that sensation like?  It's a very special moment. Because you're living this moment with your whole team, who have contributed to this result, and then you're all feeling this emotion of happiness, excitement, and relief. And it's like, you know, popping the Champagne has been quite a thing in Formula 1. And when you're doing that with your whole team and fully going for it, it makes the moment quite memorable. 

It's sticky, though, right?  It's very sticky. I did try to run off a little bit yesterday because Toto [Wolff]'s plane is quite nice, and if I rocked up covered in Champagne, he'd probably be upset. 

Mercedes-AMG PETRONAS F1 Team

I did see that clip of you leaving your teammate, Kimi Antonelli, who scored his first career podium, to fend for himself.  Yeah, a little bit. He's the new kid on the block. So I wanted to let him enjoy the moment. 

A lot of people say you're one of, if not the most consistent, driver on the grid. You finished in the top five in a majority of races this season. How do you feel about that title?  I don't feel anything really, because it doesn't mean an awful lot. I'm just going about my business, and I'm happy with how I'm performing. I don't think I've ever performed stronger. The results are showing, and you've to base your conclusions on the potential of the car. And the potential of the car in Montreal was to win, and we won. Other races, the car's potential was fifth, and we finished third, so we outperformed its potential. Some of our rivals, despite the potential of their cars, are not winning. So that is how I judge my performance. I'm fourth in the championship. That is not where I want to be, but we have delivered the maximum potential of our car more than others have. 

The F1 fandom has undergone significant changes over the last five years. It's become a lot younger. More women are fans of F1. There's also a thriving internet ecosystem surrounding it, with numerous memes, edits, and similar content. As a driver who has been in the seat for a few years now, have you felt that shift firsthand? It's been an immense shift over the last few years. It all came together at once; we'd all lived through the challenges of COVID, the lack of social interaction, and the lack of entertainment. And then Drive to Survive was present. Formula 1 was the first sport back, which, considering the logistical challenges we face, is a pretty impressive statement. And then the 2021 season was, obviously, an amazing season. All of those factors have made the sport what it is today. Seeing the movie coming out now, and the partnerships with the likes of Disney, Formula 1 is not only booming, but I feel it's gonna stay here for a long time. 

Mercedes-AMG PETRONAS F1 Team

You're here in New York for the film's premiere. You're in the film. Between Drive to Survive and this movie, I feel like you're constantly surrounded by cameras in the paddock. What's that like? It's so common now that we forget they're even there. I think [with] Netflix, some drivers felt a bit of their privacy invaded when you have the camera and the microphone boom in your face for every conversation you have. But it's given the sport a whole new dynamic, whereby fans love seeing our personalities and what really goes on in our lives.

Speaking of the fans, I'm sure you've seen the memes. You're quite meme'd on the internet. What are your thoughts about it?  I think it's great. Part of British humor is taking the Mickey out of yourself, and that's basically what the memes have always been. I'm never shy about being sarcastic or having a bit of a dry sense of humor. I enjoy the memes.  I feel like you're one of the drivers who enjoys doing these interviews. Some drivers, not so much.  I always try to put a positive spin on things. And it's an easier way to showcase who you are in front of an interview, as opposed to, sometimes on social media when you're hidden behind a camera and you're posting photos, it's quite easy to portray something different to the reality in a positive or negative way, whereas whenever I'm doing a TV interview, I always feel I can be a bit more myself.

Mercedes-AMG PETRONAS F1 Team

One of your post-race TV interviews that gets shared almost every race weekend is the iconic "he lashes out in unnecessary anger and borderline violence." How do you feel about that clip now?  All publicity is good publicity. I don't really have any feelings about it. That's what I said. That's what I meant. And you can then use it in whichever context you desire. I'm glad people are making use of it. 

You mentioned that you feel better than ever this season, and the results are showing it. What is it that changed for you? Not a huge amount, to be honest. You just learn through experience, and you nail in on the details of certain things. You're looking for those last half-a-percent in small areas, and I feel more rounded as a driver. I haven't made any mistakes this year. My pace has been really strong. My race starts have been good. I feel confident in the team. They trust in me. I trust in them. There's just good harmony within the team right now.

Mercedes-AMG PETRONAS F1 Team

You're also the senior driver on the team this year. Do you feel a change in the dynamic? And how have you approached that? Naturally, there is a change, because Lewis [Hamilton] had achieved so much for the team and so much for himself. There's such a long-standing relationship with the team and him that when you have something new, such as Kimi [Antonelli], it sort of started from a clean slate, and things feel a little bit calmer in between now and a bit more rational, maybe.

And, of course, when you've achieved the success that Lewis has achieved, anything other than a championship fight is a total failure. So, of course, tensions were high for him because he's also coming to the end of his career, whereas now, you know, I'm 27, but I still feel I've got a good 10 to 15 years left in me. Kimi is right at the beginning of his career, so we're viewing things slightly differently.  The fans seem to like the brotherly relationship between you and Kimi this season.  I definitely feel like the older brother, no doubt about that. But it's a very nice relationship we've got at the moment. And it's working. Kimi is bringing good energy to the team. He's bringing youth. And for myself, it's my fourth year on the team, and I feel very close with everybody, and it has given me the confidence to speak up slightly more and to be more myself.  I know you're about to get ready for this red carpet premiere. How would you describe your style in three words?  Understated. I will always try to dress in a timeless fashion. I'm not looking to stand out. So, understated, timeless, and British. 

Mercedes-AMG PETRONAS F1 Team

What does that mean? How do you dress British?  James Bond is British. David Beckham is British.

They are very different, no?  They are different, but David Beckham, over the last five years, is more aligned with James Bond than he was 20 years prior. That is probably more my style.

So, not David Beckham in a sarong? No. Maybe one day.  How do you think other people perceive your style?  They'll probably say boring, to be honest. But I like dressing smart. I like to come across well. That's where I feel most comfortable. I like to put the effort in, but I'm not trying to go over the top. I'm not trying to wear wacky stuff. I'm just trying to be myself. 

Mercedes-AMG PETRONAS F1 Team

Over the last two or three years, it seems like you’ve been investing more in your personal style—even your hair has become a bit of a signature. Do you think that shift came with age, or was it about feeling more confident in expressing yourself? I've progressed a lot in the last two years, but probably in two years' time, I'll look back where I am now and say, ‘What was I thinking?’ When you grow older, you learn more about yourself. Of course, for me, a couple of years ago, my first year with Mercedes alongside Lewis, you can argue it was daunting in some regards, probably more from the things off the track than on the track, because the on-track stuff is where I feel most confident, and that's where I feel myself. But he was a worldwide superstar, so that came with its challenges being alongside him, but now I just feel confident in myself.

F1 drivers are increasingly being viewed as celebrities, and you do hold a lot of influence. Do you ever feel like a celebrity?  No, not at all. Since getting to know celebrities like Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise, and Beckham, when you spend time with these individuals, you recognize they are normal people. They are extremely good at what they do and the very high-profile things they do, but they are ordinary people who do the same things for breakfast, lunch, and dinner as the majority of us, and go to bed like the majority of us, and do all of these things that we all do. And that's why, now that I'm in the public eye, I don't feel any different. I still have my girlfriend, [Carmen Montero Mundt], who was with me from the beginning, and my friends who were there from before F1; that helps keep me grounded a bit.

Mercedes-AMG PETRONAS F1 Team

Since you mentioned working alongside Brad Pitt in this film, some of the other drivers said you're the best actor on the grid. Is that a possible future career for you?  Some people put me forth for the James Bond gig, so maybe post-career, I'll consider it. The James Bond franchise is one of my favorite movie series. That's what I used to watch with my dad when I was a kid, and being patriotic, you love James Bond. So never say no. 

Lastly, I need to know how you protect your hair under your helmet. Because your hair always looks perfect.  I put a bit of wax and a bit of spray in my hair. The norm. I've actually started wearing a headband before I drive to help flick the hair back. And when I put the balaclava on, the hair sits backwards, so when I take it off, it flicks back up into place. It depends on how much I've been sweating or not, but generally, my helmet hair is alright.

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#32: The Safety (1.04)

gif cred: @riickgrimes

It was very clear up to this point in TOWL that Rick hadn't felt alive in years. But in this next scene, we learn that Michonne hadn't truly been feeling safe in years. And why? Because the only time she feels safe is with Rick Grimes. 😭

Danai wrote and delivered a line that moved me, broke me, and healed me all at the same and I have so many thoughts on it because I appreciate it so much 🥲...

So inside the gym, Rick lets Michonne know that the CRM took out the helicopter because they always destroy any evidence that they exist. Then he acknowledges that the whole building is buckling but Michonne is preoccupied with something that’s caught her attention.

When she doesn’t respond to him, Rick says, "Michonne?" and she takes hold of a note left behind by a deceased innovator, Lakshmi Patel. Michonne starts to read it aloud and it explains that this place consisted of like-minded innovators trying to live off the grid and create a new, sustained, and hopeful future.

Patel clearly lost hope in that vision saying that their motto of ‘progress and redemption through innovation’ is now like a sick joke. It’s interesting the letter then says, “I can’t face how much I have failed everyone” because that connects to something Rick feels, especially since when he chose to die he believed he died a failure.

Patel says she can’t continue to watch their mission die and apologizes. Meanwhile, Rick reads a much-needed message on the wall that says “Trust in your ability to adapt and overcome. Your past doesn’t define you.” And he def needs to hear that. 

gif cred: @clonecaptains

Michonne concludes reading the letter as Patel expresses her hope to be remembered as someone who refused to leave the world the same way she found it. And then Michonne gives a sad look at the body beside the letter seeing the somber fate of Patel. 

Michonne knows there are some connections to be drawn between this letter and Rick so she notes how it tends to not work out and fall apart when people try to save the world their own way. And just to make it extra clear she’s talking about Rick she says, “Sound familiar?”

(Side note: I like how she stays having one side of her shirt hanging off her shoulder. There’s something casual and comfortable about it plus it’s sorta like she’s trying to get Rick to realize the shirts already hanging off and he can take the rest off if he gets it together lol) 

Michonne says, “It’s just like this place. They thought they knew it all.” And then because these two can’t resist throwing some jabs in their arguments this ep she adds, “Oh except the killing of innocent people. Except that part.”

Also, I like the framing with a literal barrier between Rick and Michonne that paints the picture of the figurative barriers between them as well. Then Rick sounds the most CRM-ish he’s ever sounded when he responds saying, “The city stands.” Had me like...

And Michonne felt the same because the way she sighs - she’s so over this Commando front Rick is putting on. What happened to 'this isn’t my city'? I miss that energy.

And then Rick says, “And I’ll stop the killing. I’ll find a way.” He's so prepared to just burden himself with this mission. And Michonne challenges that, mentioning just like Patel thought she’d find a way...and we see how that worked out for her. 

Rick says, “You still don’t understand.” And the reason Michonne 'doesn’t understand' this is because it’s not the actual root of why Rick won’t go home. She can’t be fooled. And what Michonne does understand is that what Rick is proposing to do is basically, “Signing up for lifelong duty to the enemy.” But Rick rebuts that, “This is about ending the enemy.”

I love that Michonne is quick to respond saying, “This is not you, Rick.” She keeps trying to emphasize this because she knows him deeply and she knows this is not him being anywhere near his true self.

It's really fascinating to see this scenario play out where Rick has lost himself and is now back with the one person who knows him better than he knows himself, who can continually and accurately remind him that this version of him is not really him.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

But Rick thinks there are some aspects of this version of him that are authentic as he says, “This isn’t me how? That I would give everything - my hand - my life for you. That’s not me?”

gif cred: @riickgrimes

And I do love hearing Rick basically say I would give absolutely everything for you and how that's him to his core. And it is him, but also a healthy Rick would be fighting to be with her too, not just die for her.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

As Rick makes his way over to her side of the barrier he yells, “This is what I need to do to keep you safe!” Safety has understandably been such a huge priority for Rick to provide since the very beginning of TWD. And when he yells this I can hear this fear in his voice that he genuinely doesn’t think there’s another way to keep her safe than the one he’s taking.

I appreciate how passionate Rick feels about keeping her safe but also…the tone of it just needed to come down a few notches because no one should be yelling at Michonne. 👌🏽

Also, this made me think about how in the season 4 finale, Rick tells Daryl “I want to keep him safe. That’s all that matters” regarding protecting Carl after the horrible night with the Claimers. Keeping his family safe is such a driving force of Rick's character and he feels the same intense devotion to protecting Michonne as he yells that he has to stay with the CRM to keep her safe.

Her safety is all that matters to him rn and he’ll do anything to preserve it. But that’s why it’s such a perfect and impactful gut punch for Michonne to then reveal where her true source of safety comes from in this scene.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Despite Rick's more ramped-up energy, Michonne, like she so often had done in the main show, (with that bullet moment from Clear being top of mind) approaches Rick's antsy energy with this arresting calm and beautiful vulnerability as she just melts my heart by softly telling Rick....

“The only time I feel safe is when I’m with you.”

gif cred: @figmentof

Y’all…😭😭😭 Perfection. I love it so much and it’s truly my favorite thing she’s ever told him. 😍

Before I started writing these TOWL posts I knew two lines were basically going to need a whole post dedicated to the line alone and it’s this one here from Michonne and another line from Rick in episode 5 that we’ll talk about later. There’s just so much to unpack with Michonne telling Rick that the only time she feels safe is with him. It makes total sense.

I had made a post right after episode 4 that incorporated TWD gifs of all the moments where it was evident Michonne got her safety from Rick. And I just think it’s the sweetest thing on the planet to know that in this dangerous world, the one thing that most made Michonne feel like it’s gonna be okay is Rick. 🥹 I once saw someone say Michonne makes Rick strong and Rick makes Michonne safe and I love that. Gospel truth. 💯

It’s such a big deal too because Michonne is an incredibly strong, competent, independent woman who many look at and quickly assume she can just fearlessly protect herself. And while she can protect herself, Michonne has always had so many layers to her so she’s also vulnerable and needs to feel safe and reassured from something outside of herself too. And I love that she knows she found that in Rick. 🥹

gif cred: @coolpartytimefan

Then the utter pain comes in when you realize this means for almost eight years Michonne hasn’t truly felt safe. She’s had to gracefully balance the responsibilities, fears, and expectations of motherhood and leadership as well as establish security for others and some semblance of security for herself, all without the personal safe space of her husband to turn to. It breaks me. 😥

And this is another reason I’m glad TOWL gave Rick and Michonne this space to be not just fighters, community leaders, or parents, but a husband and wife trying to find each other and themselves again.

Also, I love that she says 'the only time.' Like genuinely she’s either safe with him or not really feeling safe at all. And I feel like that’s also clear in her TWD scenes post-Rick with all the ways Michonne would cling to Rick's memory through various items. It's like she was trying to garner some sense of comfort again from the only person she ever completely let her guard down and trusted she’ll be safe with.

I remember I received a message a few months ago that touched on if I'd explore when Michonne seemed to realize that she only felt safe with Rick in TWD, how it impacted her actions, and what that evolving journey of safety with him looked like. It took me a minute to get to, but I said I would definitely talk about it, and so I want to break that all down now, right here. ⬇😊

When it comes to Michonne and her safety becoming tied to Rick. I think it happened before she knew it happened. 👌🏽

Now of course in season 3, Rick and Michonne are strangers so it doesn't happen this season. But it does seem like Michonne's inherent safety with Rick started at least budding even this early.

I especially think this because of that beloved scene in Clear where she tells Rick about talking to her dead boyfriend. That’s a very personal and vulnerable thing to share, especially from someone who didn’t even tell Andrea much about herself when traveling with her for months. (Which was a smart move considering the way Andrea stayed gossiping 🙂)

To me, it shows that somehow Michonne felt safe enough with Rick to open up about herself - I think because she recognized that she and him have qualities inside of them that are uniquely similar.

And then at the end of season 3 when Rick comes real close to delivering her to the Governor she still comes back and shows grace, trusting that she could return and be safe with them. But again I don’t think it’s season 3 where her safety is tied to Rick yet.

I think that comes in season 4.

However, not 4A just yet because I think in the first half of season 4 Michonne is absolutely starting to feel more safe and comfortable with Rick but that in itself feels unsafe to her at the time. Which is why she keeps herself at a warm distance from him.

I never lose sight of Michonne’s backstory when thinking about what’s made the character who she is because it’s so important. I know the show sorta put her losing a son and boyfriend in the background but for me it always informs so much about her, in the early seasons especially. And that’s such a traumatizing thing she had to go through and so you just know that it’s probably a lot to now be growing closer and closer to this man and his son at the prison knowing how things turned out for the man and child she lost at that refugee camp.

Michonne clearly really likes Rick and Carl in 4A but letting them in close after knowing profound loss is a bit of a fear for her so instead she’d always find ways to keep Rick at a friendly distance and stay out and about, of course for other motives like tracking down the Governor but also to run from the potential “danger” of being hurt again if she lets Rick become a safe space for her like he’s so naturally becoming. 

...But then the prison falls and so too do some of the walls around Michonne’s heart.

She tries to go back to her isolated ways after the prison but she can’t. She’s found family in those Grimes boys and she knows it and so even if she doesn’t know where those footsteps lead in After she knows she has to follow the call of her heart to be apart of something again.

In a heartbreaking scene in After (4.09), Michonne talks to Mike one more time, vulnerably saying she misses him and even saying she missed him while he was still here. It made me think how Michonne had probably also been keeping her distance from Rick out of a sense of loyalty to Mike. Just like Rick wrestled with feeling like he needed to be solely grieving Lori all the while falling hard for the katana-wielding woman that’s entered his life, I think Michonne also was subconsciously wrestling with feeling this intrinsic connection to Rick so soon after losing her family.

I really feel like Rick and Michonne’s immense sense of loyalty played a part in their slow burn being slow despite catching feelings for each other so quickly. Because while both of their former partners weren’t their person, they still weren’t just going to give up on them or abandon the memory of them, it’s not who Rick and Michonne are - they’re both loyal to the core, even to partners who weren’t loyal to them.

In some ways it seems like Mike might have stopped being able to understand Michonne, figuratively disappearing on her and giving up while she kept fighting, similar to how Lori just couldn’t understand Rick. But then Michonne and Rick met each other and felt exceptionally seen, known, heard, loved, and safe in ways that probably even surprised them towards the beginning of their bond. They finally found someone who could love them as loyally as they love, which is part of why of course their love can never be stopped or denied, not even by each other.

I think about how in season 3 Lori tells Rick he’s not a killer. But the thing is that killer is a part of him. It's not all of him but it is in him as we saw him really confronted with that side of himself at the end of season 4.

What’s beautiful about Rick's relationship with Michonne is she knows he’s a killer, even verbalizing that outright to Merle early in season 3, and she doesn’t have to deny it or change it to love him. Michonne gets that it’s in Rick and respects that as one of the many parts of him she respects and understands, not just from the outside looking in but personally. Basically, Rick and Michonne are each other's match in all the ways.

So in a beautiful act of resilience, Michonne fights the fear of being close to people again when she finds Rick and Carl in that house. And she truly embraces them as hers from here on out.

And I think here in this wonderful 4.09 moment when she finds Rick and Carl in that house is when Michonne more readily embraces that she feels most safe with Rick. 

In Claimed (4.11), I think we start seeing more visibly how Michonne's safety is tied to Rick and how she subconsciously senses it. In that home, both Rick and Michonne express that they need each other and are willing to possibly make a home with the two of them and Carl. An unspoken agreement that they're forever family now.

One of the many interesting things about that scene between Rick and Michonne in Claimed is that Michonne says she’s done taking breaks. But she wasn’t necessarily leaving the prison to take breaks, she was going on runs and hunting down the Governor. However, phrasing it as 'breaks' could imply that part of her constant trips away from the prison was her leaving to run from how close she was becoming to Rick and Carl - to “take a break” from becoming reintegrated into a family after the tragic aftermath of her last family turned her into a lone wolf.

But I love that when she said she’s done taking breaks she meant that and lived up to it. And then in each 4B scene, we see more and more how Michonne starts to draw closer to the Grimes boys and feel safe enough to be herself with Rick.

Rick gets to see Michonne's playful side with Carl, he wants to include her in family hunting excursions, they like talking to each other and smiling over dinner, and they both often check in on each other to make sure they’re taken care of.

By the end of season 4 when Michonne knows she’s okay because Rick's okay, I think she's now cognizant that she feels safe with Rick in a way that’s different than anything & anyone else. And truly how beautiful is it that in a world where safety is a true rarity, Michonne found that so fully in Rick. 🥹

Also, as I've detailed in many a post, this is also the point where I believe she's subconsciously fallen in love with him. 🥰

And where Rick’s previous wife and his former best friend/sheriff's deputy doubted his ability to keep people safe, Michonne trusts Rick wholeheartedly as a good man capable of protecting his family against anything. 

That's one of the great things about rewatching TWD Seasons 1 & 2. Those early seasons make it so clear that Michonne is a love Rick has never experienced before. We don’t just feel like their love is different we get to see it in how much more Michonne loves, respects, understands, believes in, and just all and all likes Rick as opposed to his former wife and best friend.

Last year I wrote a whole reflecting on richonne post about how Michonne and Rick rarely ever split up in TWD and were always paired up for most things. It was proof of their magnetism, trust, fondness for one another, and love.

But I like how now Rick and Michonne never splitting up in TWD is also such a clear sign of the safety they brought each other. And in season 5, that’s especially clear because they really are side by side through so much that season.

I think about when Michonne put her hand on Ricks before they entered Alexandria and how that was her way of offering comfort to him while also being comforted by his presence too. Just like Rick, a large reason she felt safe enough to walk out of that car and approach those ASZ gates after everything they’d been through is because she had Rick by her side.🥲 

The one time they’re not operating side by side with Rick hiding the gun plot from her, they both feel so weighed down by having anything come between them, and they're eager to repair the distance by the end of the season.

Michonne had felt both asleep and restless when they arrived at ASZ and part of it is because her source of safety was sorta losing his mind. When Rick begins his return to sanity - and Michonne really is a core source of sanity for him - we see a sense of safety return to Michonne as well as she declares she’ll always be with him.

I always adored that s5 'I’m still with you moment' and I love it even more now knowing that part of why she so confidently knows she’ll be with him no matter what is because Rick is who she feels safest with. 😭

In 6A all of Richonne's scenes continue to solidify that Michonne feels most safe with Rick. And when Rick goes out into the horde in NWO Michonne full-on panics because he’s doing something unsafe and her own safety just evaporates as she expresses a rare moment of disarray. 

And then in 6B we get to see a more personal and intimate way that Michonne feels safe with Rick. Even just walking around more stripped down in a robe and towel shows he’s made her feel super comfortable.

The heightened safety she feels with Rick is especially evident in their canon era - from the way they decompress on that couch before their first kiss, the way he calmingly reaches for her in the RV and it seems to immediately bring her peace, to just the safety to let herself be adored and loved on so fully by Rick’s good kind heart in all their comfy and sensual moments at home. 🥰

When she confides in Rick and tells him at the end of 7A that she only wants to go forward if it's with him - "you and me" - she means it.

And all through season 7 it’s clear she knows full well that the only time she truly feels safe is with him. It’s why she nearly throws in the towel - or throws in the sword - when she thinks walkers got to Rick in Say Yes and so vulnerably runs into his arms when seeing he is alive.

Michonne knew she couldn’t lose him on that honeymoon run. Not just 'I don't want to lose you,' she knew 'I can't lose you,' - something Rick too would grasp fully once taken from her for years. With soulmates like this, they lose each other, then in many ways they lose themselves.

When Michonne told Rick she couldn't lose him in Say Yes, I knew she felt it was because she loves him deeply but after TOWL it’s clear how she also knew she’d never truly feel safe again if she were to lose him. 😭 They are each other's security in this crazy world.

Then, after getting in that brutal brawl in the s7 finale, Rick makes getting to Michonne a priority and when he finds her against that wall, she just hears his voice and feels his touch and it looks like a sense of safety has been restored to her. And to Rick too.

In season 8, sirens go off in Michonne's head being away from Rick during the war and it’s clear she won’t be able to rest truly until he’s back.

And in that season's msf I’ve always felt it’s so clear that when she tells Judith she’ll bring her daddy back, Michonne is excited for both her baby girl and herself that they’ll have Rick back finally - the man who makes their family feel complete and safe. 👌🏽

After tragically losing Carl (which is forever heartbreaking 💔💔💔), both Michonne and Rick try to be a safe space for each other even despite their own immense individual pain.

And they do find their way back to each other, saying i love you and holding hands off to war because no matter the circumstances if they can hold each other they can feel a sense of safety.

And in s9, before Rick leaves, Richonne really feel so at home and safer than ever with each other. It’s a beautiful time for them and all their nice season 9 scenes show how Michonne is wrapped in the love and safety of her husband. Even literally just waking up with his arm wrapped around her.

When Michonne had some real apprehension regarding if the people could really band together after Negan, she always knew she could voice those concerns with Rick and he’d reassure her so encouragingly. Also for a woman to agree to get pregnant in an apocalypse - that requires feeling a lot of safety and Rick made Michonne feel safe enough to do that. 🥲

But then Rick is taken and it’s devastating. 💔 And with his absence, Michonne’s safety also goes away.

She had to bring the beautiful life they created into the world without him. And you can just imagine there were so many nights alone in bed during her pregnancy when she’d longed for him to be there. And so when she looks at Rick with the CRM in ep 3 and yells you were alive ‘with them’ in this episode, I always sense this added hurt because those CRM people, who don’t even appreciate Rick, got to be around him all the time while she was miles away longing for him to be with her and feeling unsafe without him.

And this profession that she only feels safe with him makes all those moments post-Rick where she’d still find ways to connect with him all the more meaningful because even after he’s gone, she still only feels at least a semblance of safety with him.

Be it through the ring she wears and even fiddles with on her finger when needing to think, a Sherriff action figure, the bullet shell from his gun that she always wears in her hair to keep him close, talking to him in their bedroom, and most notably wrapping herself in his clothes just to try to remember how safe she once felt in his arms.

It moves me so much how she still only felt safe with Rick even after he was taken from her. She tells Judith how she felt so lost after Rick was gone. And because she’s strong she figured out how to keep going of course, but the world became an ultra-dangerous place again so it makes sense why she’d become as cautious as she became. Nothing could make her truly feel safe until she was back with her true love.

And when Michonne is back with Rick in TOWL, you see that sense of safety start to come back. She has no clue where he’s taking her or how they’ll get out of this CRM place but she trusts him. She knows he’ll do anything to keep her safe.

But the surprising aspect is Rick will do anything to keep her safe…including trying to destroy being her safe space so that she’ll be willing to leave him and make it home. 🥀☹️

And that is exactly what we see happen as this heart-gripping gym scene continues. So my extra self has to do a part two to talk about the latter half of this gym scene.

I'll conclude this post by saying, “The only time I feel safe is when I’m with you” is such a deeply beautiful, meaningful, and memorable line. 😭 Black women, both in fiction and in reality, don't always get to express that innate want to feel safe with someone/something outside of ourselves and so seeing Michonne get to say that her safety doesn't just come from her but from her husband was powerful and lovely. 👏🏽

I forever love Danai for knowing Michonne would feel this way in her relationship with Rick and allowing her to voice it so perfectly and authentically here. This episode really was written by someone who knows Rick and Michonne inside and out and I adore the way Richonne is each other's truest safe space. 🥹👌🏽