#not just because they are very good drivers

[cheftsunoda]

Would you consider doing something with a quiet/ reserved reader. I love the idea of a reader who's an up and coming driver but isn't about the press or media at ALL. Like dodging cameras and running away from interviews, and maybe a boy (I don't mind who you pick) misunderstands and thinks that she's running away from them? Maybe add some drama from f1 update twt accounts escalating the situation and painting the reader in a negative light for being "rude" or "impolite".

Thx!! (Sorry for any confusion, English is not my first language but I hope you get what I mean)

miss misunderstood— op81

smau + blurbs

oscar piastri x !quiet/shy driver reader

yn has a lot of pressure on her shoulders— she is the only female driver in f1 and that leads to her consistently having to prove herself to not only her team, who took a chance on her, but the press who are constantly there hounding her. she has always been very shy and reserved— especially around people she does not know. when fans notice how she skips out on interviews and hides from big crowds, the hate pours in, especially after she is seen avoiding a conversation with the grids other most quiet individual— but he is persistent and wont give up on her.

(a/n) : such a cute idea anon! i understood you perfectly fine my love. i hope you enjoy this. i thought it would be fun to pair reader with someone who is also rather quiet and reserved.

fc : amna al qubaisi

—

f1gossipgirls

257,087 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Almost all of our favorite drivers have touched down in Barcelona for media day. Some of our first arrivals include YN LN, Charles Leclerc, Oscar Piastri, Lewis Hamilton, Lando Norris and George Russell.

—

view 32,057 other comments.

username0 : george not dressed properly for the weather pt 899

liked by f1gossipgirls

username10 : yn always looks like she doesn’t want to be there. why is she even in f1 if she hates to do the job??

username15 : everyone is smiling, waiving, talking to fans and press and then there is yn who immediately books it to the paddock and ignores everyone

username22 : ill say it once and i will say it again— f1 is not a silent film. she either needs to speak up and play the role or step aside. good driver or not. that job comes with more responsibilities than just driving around the track.

username5 : she gives off “im better than everyone else” energy and im sick of her.

username00 : every time i try and like her, she gives us absolutely nothing. cold and awkward isn’t a personality, babe.

↳ username9 : yet you guys eat it up when oscar does it. the double standard is insane.

liked by f1gossipgirls

username11 : its always the quiet ones y’all tear apart for not being loud enough. she’s there to drive. not entertain you.

liked by f1gossipgirls

username17 : you guys are extra hard on her because she is a female. and it is sick.

username101 : she minds her business, she’s fast, and she is unproblematic. you guys are just finding reasons to hate her. jealousy is a disease.

liked by f1gossipgirls

—

They say I’m cold. Unfriendly. Standoffish. Like I’m trying too hard to be mysterious or above it all. But they don’t know me. Not really. Because if they did, they’d know I used to be warm. I used to talk too much. Laugh too loud. Hug people without thinking twice. But that was before. Before the phone call. Before the hospital room. Before the person who knew me better than anyone else—who loved me without needing me to be anything but myself—was just… gone.

Losing a parent is something people talk about like it’s a passage. A sad inevitability. But they don’t talk about what it does to you when it’s sudden. When it’s brutal. When the last words you said were something stupid because you thought you had more time. My dad was my safe place. The only person I could fall apart around. He was the reason I started racing. The reason I believed I could do anything. And when I lost him, I didn’t just lose a person—I lost myself. I haven’t spoken about it. Not to anyone.

Not to my engineers. Not to my teammates. Not to the drivers who think I’m just “shy” or “quiet” or “moody.” Because once I say it out loud, it becomes real in a way I’m not ready for. It becomes the thing people pity me for instead of the thing I’ve survived. So I stay quiet. I keep the noise out. I protect the stillness inside me. People don’t understand it, and that’s fine. They think I’m emotionless when really, I’m overflowing and just trying not to drown. I hear what they say. The fans. The media. That I don’t engage. That I don’t give enough. But I didn’t come here to be their favorite. I came here to race. I came here to honor my father. To survive something else. To find moments of peace between the chaos and the grief that still sits like stone in my chest.

They’ll never understand why I am the way I am. Because they never saw me before. Before the silence felt safer than the world ever did. And I don’t owe them an explanation for that.

—

The air in Barcelona is thick with heat and noise—press cameras clicking, fans shouting driver names like spells, a thousand voices layered on top of each other. I keep my head down but offer a small smile, lifting my hand in a quiet wave. They cheer anyway. Some scream my name. Others don’t. Some just stare, waiting for me to trip or ignore them or give them proof I’m “as cold as they say.”

I smile again, even if it doesn’t reach my eyes. It’s not fake—it’s just not loud.

Security walks with me as I cross the paddock. My eyes flicker over the cameras stationed outside team motorhomes, the reporters already calling out names, hoping for a quote. I tighten my grip on the strap of my bag. Just a few more steps.

I keep walking. Fast, but not suspiciously fast. Just enough to dodge the press circling like hawks, waiting for a moment of weakness, a headline, a clipped quote that can be turned into whatever version of me they want to sell this week.

Finally, I step inside Red Bull. The air conditioning kisses my skin. The silence—relative silence—is heaven. I make it to my driver room, push the door shut with my shoulder, and lean against it for a second. Eyes closed. Deep breath. The chaos is muffled now, like a storm just beyond the walls. Then the door opens again without a knock.

“Nice escape,” Max says, completely unfazed. He shuts the door behind him like he owns the building. “You only almost ran over two photographers. New record?”

I huff out a laugh—quiet but real. “Felt like twenty.”

He drops into the chair across from me like he’s been doing this his whole life. Which, to be fair, he basically has.

Max studies me for a second, unreadable as always. “You look like you’re about to vomit. That your media day face?”

“Shut up,” I mutter, a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth.

He shrugs. “Just saying. You do realize they can’t eat you alive on camera, right? Legally.”

“I don’t know. I think one of the Sky guys has sharp enough teeth.”

He chuckles, dry and quiet. “You’ll be fine. Say as little as possible. Give one-word answers. Scowl a little. That’s what I do.”

“You give plenty of one-word answers.”

“Exactly,” he says, proud. “It’s an art.”

He leans forward, resting his arms on his knees, face softening just slightly.

“They don’t matter, you know. The journalists. The fans who think they know you. The Twitter freaks. You’re fast. That’s what counts. That’s what wins. Let them think you’re a robot or a villain or a Bond girl or whatever mood they’re in this week.”

I nod. A slow exhale.

“Thanks, Max.”

He shrugs again. “Just don’t cry on camera. I already have a reputation for being emotionally unavailable. Don’t need yours adding to the Verstappen Cold Front.”

This time, I laugh out loud. He grins. Mission accomplished.

“Go be scary,” he says, pushing himself up. “And if you panic, just pretend they’re all standing in front of your car at turn one.”

“I’d drive through them.”

“Exactly.”

He leaves without another word, and for the first time all morning, I feel like I can breathe.

—

I answer with the same even tone I always do. I deflect, redirect, smile where I’m supposed to. I’ve trained myself not to flinch. But it still chips away at me, a little at a time. I finally escape outside, tucked behind one of the Red Bull displays near the fan zone—close enough to be seen, far enough to feel like I’m not drowning. I sip from a water bottle, hoping the air might settle in my lungs again. That’s when I see her.

A girl, maybe twelve, in a handmade cap with my number scribbled on it in glitter glue. She’s holding a small notebook and a marker, standing with her dad and hesitating like she doesn’t want to bother me. I almost keep walking. I’m tired. Overheated. Ready to shut down for the rest of the day. But something in her eyes stops me. She doesn’t look like the others—she looks like she’s trying to be brave. So I walk over.

Her eyes go wide when I stop in front of her. “Hi,” I offer, voice soft.

She blinks. Then holds out the notebook with slightly trembling hands. “Um—sorry, I just—could you sign this? I know you don’t really like talking to people a lot, but you’re my favorite. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want.”

My chest tightens. Not in a bad way—in the way it does when something hits a nerve you didn’t know was still exposed. I take the notebook and sign it carefully.

“You know,” she says, voice quiet, “I get nervous talking to people too. But I think you’re really brave. I like that you don’t try to be loud just to fit in. You make me feel like that’s okay.”

I blink fast. It’s not the kind of compliment I get. It’s not about speed or podiums or stats. It’s about me. The parts I’ve always kept hidden because the world made me feel like they were wrong. I smile—genuinely this time—and crouch a little so we’re eye level.

“Thank you,” I say softly. “That means more than you know.”

Her face lights up like I just handed her a trophy. We take a photo. I sign her hat. She hugs me before I even have time to react—but I don’t mind. Not even a little. As I walk away, I feel lighter. Like the weight pressing on my shoulders loosened just a little. Maybe I’ll always be the quiet one. The misunderstood one. But to that one girl? I was seen. And that’s enough.

—

The moment I cross the line, the radio explodes.

“P1, YN! That’s P1! You did it! You absolutely nailed that last stint—what a drive!”

I don’t say much. I can’t. My throat is tight and my hands are shaking around the wheel. The pit wall is screaming, my engineer shouting through the static. The grandstands blur into one giant roar. I slow the car down and guide it into parc fermé, P1 board waiting. The marshals are waving, cameras already turned in my direction like hungry mouths. I sit still for a beat. The engine is off, the world is loud, but in my cockpit it’s just… quiet. Then I hear it—Max’s car pulling into P2.

“Let’s go,” I murmur to myself and start the slow climb out.

But my limbs feel heavy. Every emotion I’ve buried all year starts clawing its way to the surface, and I’m suddenly not sure if I’ll make it over the halo without falling flat on my face. And then—there’s a hand. Max, already out of his car, standing beside mine like it’s the most casual thing in the world. He holds his hand out without a word. Just a look that says, Yeah, I know. Take it. I take it. He helps me out of the car, firm but unshowy. As soon as I hit the ground, I sway a little, overwhelmed—but I don’t fall.

He leans in, dry as ever. “You know you’re supposed to breathe when you win, right?”

I huff out something between a laugh and a sob. “I’ll try next time.”

Our helmets clink together briefly as we hug—quick, tight, familiar—and then he nudges me toward my team. They’re already there—Red Bull crew surrounding me, cheering, hugging, spraying water. I let myself fall into it for a moment. I smile, genuinely. I hug back. One of the engineers lifts me off the ground and spins me, and I let them. Because this is theirs, too. Ours. But just as the broadcasters and press start pushing through the sea of mechanics, I slip away—ducking behind the barrier, walking briskly toward the cooldown room before they can catch me.

I hear a few voices behind me—“YN, one word for Sky? Just a few seconds?”

I keep walking. The cooldown room is blissfully empty. Cold, quiet, white walls and a table with water and towels. I sit, press the bottle to my forehead, and finally breathe. No cameras. No questions. No pretending. Just silence. Just peace. Just… me. And for the first time in a long time, it feels like enough.

—

The water bottle sweats in my hands, condensation dripping slowly onto my race suit. I haven’t said much since sitting down, and Max hasn’t asked me to. He’s lounging across from me on the other bench, head tilted back, eyes closed like he owns the room. His suit is halfway peeled down and his hair’s a sweaty mess, but he looks… content. Neither of us are fans of the overexposed post-race routine. The lights. The forced questions. The soundbites that get twisted a dozen ways before the sun even sets. So we sit here, in the eye of the storm, letting the world knock on the door without answering.

Max finally cracks an eye open. “You going to do the interviews?”

I lean my head back against the cool wall and sigh. “Eventually. Maybe. If they don’t forget I exist by then.”

He grins slightly. “You just won. They’ll send a SWAT team if you don’t come out soon.”

Before I can answer, the door opens — fast but tentative — and in walks Camille, my press secretary. She’s breathless. Her clipboard’s half tucked under her arm, and she looks like she’s been fighting off wolves outside.

“YN,” she starts, trying for calm but clearly begging on the inside, “I hate to interrupt, but they’re getting antsy. Sky, F1TV, everyone’s lining up. They want quotes, a soundbite—anything.”

I nod slowly. I expected this. It doesn’t make it any easier.

“I’m not doing the scrum,” I say. “Not the pen. Not the mixed zone.”

Camille looks like she wants to scream into a pillow. “Okay. Fine. What will you do?”

I glance at Max, who’s watching like it’s the most entertaining episode of Drive to Survive he’s seen all year.

“One interview,” I finally say. “That’s it.”

Camille’s already flipping through her mental rolodex. “Okay. Sky? F1TV? Maybe something for social? Martin Brundle is waiting and—”

“No,” I cut her off, gently but firm. “If I do one, it’s with Lissie. No one else.”

Camille blinks. “Lissie—Lissie Mackintosh from Sky?”

I nod.

“She’s the only one who doesn’t make me feel like I’m under a microscope,” I explain. “She’s kind. And she actually listens.”

Camille softens a little. “Okay. I can work with that. But they’ll push back.”

“Let them,” I shrug. “I don’t owe them anything else today.”

She studies me for a moment, then exhales and heads out, already dialing her phone as she goes.

The door shuts again, and I fall back into the silence like it’s a blanket.

Max raises a brow. “Lissie, huh?”

“She doesn’t try to make me a headline,” I reply.

Max gives a nod of respect. “Smart. Wish we all had a Lissie.”

I glance down at my fingers, still slightly trembling from adrenaline. “I just need someone who sees me.”

“You just won a damn Grand Prix,” Max says, standing and nudging my foot with his. “They’re gonna have to see you now, whether they like it or not.”

—

yn's post race interview with lissie mackintosh- barcelona

—

third person pov

YN steps down from the small stage, fingers tugging at the collar of her suit as if she’s trying to breathe easier now that the lights are off. She’s walking fast, already focused on making it back to the safety of the garage. She doesn’t see Oscar until she turns the corner, he is halfway through his own interview with a different outlet. He’s smiling—tired, but still upbeat—and when he spots her, his expression brightens like he’s been waiting for a chance to say something. Oscar turned to YN as she passed by.

“You should really be talking to the winner, huh?”

His voice is friendly. Joking. The kind of throwaway line that’s meant to show camaraderie, not pressure. YN pauses just for a second. She offers a small, polite smile—closed-lipped and barely there. No laugh. No response. Just a nod. And then she’s gone. Quiet steps, fast retreat.

Oscar watches her disappear down the corridor, his smile faltering slightly. His interviewer says something, but he doesn’t really register it.

“…Did I say something weird?”

He turns back to the camera, eyes a little more unsure. In the back of his mind, the question settles in— Does she just not like me? But the truth is simpler. And sadder. She doesn’t dislike him. She just doesn’t have room for warmth in the places where the world watches too closely.

—

twitter!

f1gossipgirls : Race Winner, YN LN, only gave 1 two minute interview with @/skysports Lissie Mackintosh. Oscar Piastri who was P3 today, was also doing an interview when LN happened to walk by and made a joke to which YN just walked off. He then asked the interviewer if he said something wrong. Thoughts?

view 120,004 comments.

username00 : imagine winning a race and still managing to have the personality of dry toast 😭 poor oscar was just being NICE

username22 : as someone who watched the full interview with Lissie — she was genuine and soft spoken. maybe what she needs is respect, not attention.

username08 : i love Oscar but this isn’t that deep. she clearly has boundaries and isn’t fake about it. that’s kind of refreshing.

username09 : she didn’t even thank the fans today. one interview and vanishes? okay ice queen 🧊

username17 : not her making Oscar second guess himself when he was literally just being sweet? i would NEVER recover.

username20 : this is why she’s boring. no charisma, no interviews, no interaction. i said what i said. 🥱

username30 : are y’all ignoring the interaction she had with a younger fan today?? she is such a sweetie, she is just camera shy.

—

ynfromredbull

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, redbullracing and 1,7005,002 others.

ynfromredbull : good shit.

—

view 74,032 other comments.

lissiemackintosh : Honored to have been the one to share part of this day with you. Congratulations again, YN! ✨

liked by ynfromredbull

username0 : i feel like max is the only one that understands her.

maxverstappen1 : good shit indeed.

liked by ynfromredbull and redbullracing

oscarpiastri : Insane drive today, YN. 💪🏻

liked by ynfromredbull

↳ username0 : oscar is much better than me bc id be a hater rn

alexalbon : can someone pls nerf the redbull team. i am tired.

liked by maxverstappen1, ynfromredbull and redbullracing

username10 : can y'all shut up now- she is literally taking pictures with fans.

↳ username0 : wowww one time in her whole career.

carlossainz55 : such a beast. congratulations yn

liked by ynfromredbull

—

I don’t like nights like this. Too many people. Too many lights. Too many eyes that don’t know me but swear they do. I don’t stop for cameras, I don’t pose, I don’t even slow down when someone calls my name. I just head straight inside the theater like I’m late for something, even though I’m not. I keep my eyes low, find the row I asked Max to save for me, and drop into the seat beside him with a quiet exhale. He glances at me, unimpressed but amused.

“Nice entrance. Scared three PR people on the way in.”

I almost smile. “Was aiming for five.”

He snorts, and just like that, I feel a little more human. Max has always understood the value of silence. He never pushes, never demands more than I can give. We talk a little—about the ridiculousness of the event, the car updates, the championship—but mostly, we just sit. It’s enough. Until I feel a shift. I don’t even have to look up. I can sense someone walking toward us with too much hesitation, like they’ve already decided I’m going to run. When I do glance up, I’m met with wide brown eyes and a nervous smile. Oscar.

“Hey. Sorry—YN? Can I talk to you for a second?”

Max raises a brow. I pause, heart twitching in my chest for reasons I don’t fully understand, and then I nod. I follow Oscar into the hallway, the noise of the event fading behind me like static. The lighting is dimmer here. Softer. Still too bright. He turns to face me, shifting on his feet like he’s rehearsed this five times already.

“I, um—did I do something to upset you?”

My stomach drops.

“What?”

“After the race. I made that joke and you just… walked off. And I get it if you’re not a fan of me or something, I just—” He laughs nervously. “I keep thinking I said something wrong.”

I blink. I want to laugh, but I don’t. Instead, I look down, ashamed.

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong.” My voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. “It’s not you. It’s just… me.”

He looks confused. Still gentle, though. Waiting. I don’t know why, but I want to explain—just a little.

“When I was younger, I lost someone. My dad. He was… my person. The one who made the noise of the world feel a little less loud. And after it happened, I kind of… shut off. I don’t like being watched. I don’t like being asked to smile when I don’t feel like it. I just… exist better in the quiet.”

Oscar doesn’t speak for a long moment. But his expression softens in a way that makes my chest ache.

“You don’t have to explain,” he says eventually. “But thank you for trusting me.”

I nod, throat tight. Then, a flicker of guilt. “And I’m sorry for walking off like that. You didn’t deserve it.”

He smiles, shy and genuine.

“So… you don’t hate me?”

That makes me laugh. Just once, but it’s real.

“No,” I say softly. “I don’t.”

There’s a pause, and for the first time since I got here, I feel something shift in my chest. A crack of light.

He nudges me lightly with his shoulder. “Cool. Friends, then?”

I think about it. About how hard it is to let people in. About how much it scares me.

Then I nod. “Yeah. Friends.”

—

3 month time skip

ynfromredbull

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, lando & 2,409,001 others.

ynfromredbull : as my counterpart @/maxverstappen1 would say— these last few months have been simply lovely. 🏆💪🏻

—

view 127,002 other comments.

username0 : this caption is the most personality i’ve seen from her all season.

username14 : i can’t believe she is leading the wdc rn

maxverstappen1 : id sue for copyright infringement if i wasn’t so proud

liked by ynfromredbull

oscarpiastri : very artistic post yn

liked by ynfromredbull

↳ ynfromredbull : thank you mr. piastri

liked by oscarpiastri

↳ lando : OMG SHE SPEAKS

liked by ynfromredbull

↳ lando : yn i didn’t mean that in a bad way pls don’t drive me off the track

liked by ynfromredbull

georgerussell63 : it is against fia regulations to have a teddy bear in the car. RACE BAN (she is still destroying all of us— it would not help save the season)

liked by ynfromredbull

—

f1gossipgirls

428,023 likes.

f1gossipgirls : For the first time in her F1 career, YN LN has not walked into the paddock alone. She walked in with none other than Oscar Piastri himself. Not only did she walk in with him but the two stopped for the press multiple times and stopped to talk with fans. Many people say that this is the most they’ve seen her smile in her whole career. Thoughts?

—

view 15,539 other comments.

username00 : from Oscar “did I do something wrong?” to Oscar walking her in and making her smile… the arc is so insane

username15 : f1gossipgirls is finally being NICE about her. this is how powerful love is

username17 : i haven’t seen her this relaxed since she debuted. i’d cry if i wasn’t already crying.

username22 : this is NOT a drill. she SMILED. she TALKED. she STOOD STILL for the PRESS. what is happening

username0 : So now she wants the attention? Pick a side. Either be private or don’t.

username14 : she’s literally only tolerable when she’s standing next to a man. that’s so sad lol

username20 : i’m sorry but this whole “she’s just shy” thing got old last season. f1 drivers are public figures. she knew what she signed up for.

—

It happens slowly. Like sunlight through tinted glass — warm but filtered, creeping in without permission. Oscar’s been around a lot lately. Not just in the paddock, where we’re both supposed to be, but everywhere in between. Track walks, post-race debriefs, long flights, short layovers, dinners in quiet towns we don’t name on social media. He’s become part of the background noise of my life, and for once, that doesn’t scare me.

I notice it when we’re sitting side by side in the sim room, not speaking, just existing. The silence between us feels easy now. Familiar. Like I don’t have to earn my space — I just have it. I notice it when he hands me a coffee before I’ve even asked, the way he always remembers I take it black with a splash of oat milk, no sugar. Or when he throws a hoodie at me because I always forget I get cold before FP3.

I notice it most on the plane ride. He’s asleep beside me, his head tilted toward me, headphones slipping. I’m staring at the clouds and thinking about how close I am to the title. Closer than I’ve ever been. I should be terrified. But I’m not. Because he’s here. And for some reason, that grounds me.

He mumbles something in his sleep and leans slightly toward my shoulder. I freeze. Not because I’m uncomfortable — but because I’m suddenly too comfortable. My heart stutters. It’s a dangerous thing, comfort. I’ve avoided it for years, convinced it would disappear the moment I reached for it. But Oscar—he never asked me to reach. He just stayed.

Now I’m sitting in row 8F of some transatlantic flight with a soft-voiced Aussie curled up next to me and a World Championship lead in my lap — and all I can think is... God, I might actually be in love with him. And that’s scarier than any press conference I’ve ever dodged.

—

I could already feel the heat of the Monaco sun pressing down as we stepped out of the car. The walk to the paddock always felt long, even when it wasn’t. My palms were tucked into my jacket pockets, nerves dancing beneath my skin like they always did. But this time, I wasn’t alone.

Oscar walked beside me, chatting softly about absolutely nothing — the weather, the coffee at the hotel, the chaos of the Monte Carlo grid. I appreciated it. His voice was grounding. I didn’t have to say anything, and he didn’t expect me to.

I kept my eyes low, used to the flashes of phones and the buzz of people trying to get my attention. Normally, I’d keep walking. Fast. Direct. No room for error. But then I heard it.

“YN!”

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t aggressive. Just… hopeful. I slowed down without thinking. Oscar noticed instantly and stilled beside me.

“You good?” he asked quietly.

I nodded. “Yeah. Just… give me a sec.”

I turned toward the barricade. A young fan was holding a poster of my car from Australia. I’d won that race. My name was scrawled across the sidepod in sharp lettering — a moment frozen in time I’d barely let myself process. I took the marker from their hand, signed it quickly but neatly.

“Thank you for today,” the fan said, eyes wide. “You’re… amazing. You’ve always been amazing.”

The words hit me somewhere in the chest I didn’t know was sore.

“…Thanks,” I said, almost too quietly. Then louder: “Thanks for saying that.”

They smiled like I’d handed them gold. I took one photo — just one. And then I stepped back beside Oscar, who gave me a subtle smile. Not too proud. Not too over-the-top. Just there. Solid. Steady. We weren’t even halfway through the paddock before a Sky Sports reporter called out.

“YN! Oscar! Over here?”

I froze.

Oscar looked at me. “Wanna skip it?”

I shook my head. “Just one.”

We walked over together. I didn’t say much — I never do — but I stood there. Present. Listening. And when they asked how I was feeling going into the weekend, the words came before I could edit them.

“Focused,” I said. Then, after a breath: “And a little less alone today.”

Oscar glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. There was a flicker of something soft there, something understanding. It felt… safe. When we finally reached the Red Bull garage, I exhaled for what felt like the first time in twenty minutes. I peeled off my jacket, tugged at the brim of my cap, and tried to disappear through the back. But Max was already leaning on the pit wall, headset half-on, watching me with that unreadable Verstappen face.

“You smiled,” he said, completely monotone. “Terrifying.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t start.”

He smirked just slightly. “I’m just saying… if you become media friendly, I’m going to have to be the difficult one now.”

“You already are,” I deadpanned.

Max laughed under his breath and tossed me a bottle of water. “You did good, LN.”

And for once, I let myself believe it.

—

The world was quiet around us. The kind of hush that only existed in moments like this — between heartbeats, between stares. Monaco’s lights flickered just beyond the windows, gold threads pulling through navy silk. I could hear the sea in the distance. Oscar lay beside me, legs stretched across my duvet like he belonged here. He wasn’t touching me, not yet, but he was close enough that I could feel every inch of space between us — and it made my chest ache.

“You’re quieter than usual,” he said softly, barely above a whisper.

I turned my head toward him. “That’s saying something.”

He smiled, tired and tender. “Fair. Still true.”

I didn’t answer. Because truthfully, I was scared. This was all new. The closeness. The comfort. The way he looked at me like I wasn’t hard to figure out. Then he said it — no fanfare, no buildup, just a simple truth.

“I think I’m falling for you.”

It should’ve terrified me. But it didn’t. Not really. It cracked something open.

I stared at him, eyes burning, heart folding in on itself. “I think I already have,” I breathed, voice barely there.

The silence that followed was thick — not heavy, not awkward. Just real. He reached over, his fingers grazing mine so gently it made my skin buzz. It wasn’t a grab. It was an invitation. And for once in my life, I accepted. I laced my fingers through his and sat up, pulling open the drawer next to my bed. There was only one thing inside — an envelope. Worn at the edges, the flap taped down three times because I’d opened and closed it more than I should have. I handed it to him. His brows furrowed as he opened it slowly. The photo slipped into his hand.

Me, at six. All tiny teeth and wild hair, grinning up like the sun had never set. Standing next to a man in a racing suit. His hand was on my shoulder. The same eyes. The same smirk. My father. Oscar looked between the photo and me, and I saw the shift happen in real time — confusion to understanding to quiet reverence.

“That’s… is that who I think it is?” His voice cracked just slightly.

I nodded, swallowing hard. “My dad.”

I didn’t say his name. I didn’t need to.

“He died when I was eight. It was… it was violent. Sudden. One second he was there, and then he wasn’t. He was my safest place. My everything. After that, I… broke. I stopped talking for months. And when I started again, it was never the same.”

He didn’t move. Just stared at me like I was something delicate, like if he breathed too loudly I might fold in on myself.

“I never told anyone,” I continued, voice barely holding. “I didn’t want pity. I didn’t want to be treated like some ghost of his shadow. I wanted to be me. Just me.”

Oscar’s fingers tightened around mine — not too much, just enough to remind me I wasn’t alone anymore.

“You are,” he whispered. “You’re everything.”

I looked at him then, and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like hiding.

“I think he’d like you,” I said, smiling through the burn in my throat.

Oscar leaned in, resting his forehead against mine, and whispered back, “I like you more than I should.”

And in the soft glow of the Monaco skyline, wrapped in the quiet I used to fear, I finally let myself feel it all. Love. Safety. Peace. Him.

—

f1

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, ynfromredbull & 8,029,003 others.

f1 : Your 2025 World Champion, YN LN! Incredible drive this season, YN. This is well deserved.

tagged : ynfromredbull

—

view 239,492 other comments.

username00 : MY QUEEN! CONGRATULATIONS YN.

username15 : gonna be insufferable about this for the next 40 years ok????

susie_wolff : YN has made history. I am forever proud of her.

liked by ynfromredbull and f1

username30 : people doubted her, the press dragged her, and she STILL smoked them all. cold-blooded. we love a quiet assassin 💅

lissiemackintosh : I’ve seen your journey up close. You are everything this sport needs. Congratulations, champion. 💫

liked by ynfromredbull

oscarpiastri : No one more worthy. What a season, YN. 🏆🤍

liked by ynfromredbull

lando : MY GOATTTTTT LFGGGG

liked by ynfromredbull

lewishamilton : It’s been inspiring watching you come into your own. World Champion sounds good on you. 🔥

liked by ynfromredbull

maxverstappen1 : Couldn’t be more proud. YN deserved this more than anyone.

liked by ynfromredbull

—

ynfromredbull

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, lando and 12,037,024 others.

ynfromredbull : this is what it is all about. thank you all. it is an honor to be your 2025 world champ. i hope you grow to love me as much as i love all of you.

—

user has disabled comments on this post.

—

We were far from everything — the noise, the cameras, the endless headlines. Just a small coastal town somewhere in Portugal, sun-drunk and slow, the kind of place where people didn’t care about championship points or last names. Oscar and I had spent the day walking through sleepy markets, eating too much gelato, and laughing at nothing. Now, the two of us lay tangled together on the bed in the little apartment we rented, the linen sheets kicked down to our ankles and the windows cracked open to let in the salt-kissed night air. His hand rested on my stomach, thumb drawing slow circles over the hem of my shirt. The world outside our window was quiet, but my mind wasn’t. Not tonight.

“I want to do it,” I said into the stillness.

He turned his head, his voice a low murmur against my temple. “Do what?”

I hesitated, even though I already knew he’d understand. He always did.

“The interview. I want to finally say it. Talk about… him. All of it.”

Oscar sat up slightly, enough to look at me properly. “You’re sure?”

I nodded, throat tight. “It’s time. I’ve hidden behind the silence for so long. And I don’t want to anymore.”

He searched my eyes, then gently tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “You don’t owe anyone your pain, you know. You don’t have to justify who you are.”

“I know,” I whispered. “But I want to tell the story. My story. People have made it for me for so long — all the gossip, the assumptions. I’ve let them believe I’m cold or arrogant or just awkward. But the truth is…” I swallowed. “The truth is, I’m just someone who lost the one person that made the world feel safe.”

Oscar’s hand found mine under the sheets, his fingers warm and steady.

“I think he’d be proud of you,” he said softly. “For everything. For surviving. For being brave enough to do this now.”

I blinked hard, staring up at the ceiling to stop the tears from spilling.

“I miss him so much, still. Every day. Sometimes I think that little girl in the paddock died with him — the one who used to talk to everyone, who smiled without thinking about it.”

He pulled me into his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “That girl’s still in there. I see her every time you light up after a race. Every time you laugh when you think no one’s listening. You’re still her. Just… grown, and stronger.”

I breathed him in — the cologne I’d come to associate with safety and something close to peace.

“Will you be there? When I do it?” I asked quietly. “When I finally say his name?”

“Every step,” he said without hesitation. “Always.”

And in that moment, with his arms around me and the stars blinking somewhere above the rooftops, I knew I wasn’t alone anymore.

Not in the silence. Not in the truth. Not ever again.

—

‘hey lissie— its yn. i want to do an exclusive interview with you. if you’re willing.’

’omg hey champ— obviously id be willing to. where do you need me?’

’my house. next week? i can send a plane your way.’

’ill be there. i am honored, yn. truly.’. 

—

world champion, yn, sharing her truths from her home in monaco with lissie mackintosh - 1/2/2026

—

ynsenna

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, oscarpiastri & 17,023,004 others.

ynsenna : i’ve spent most of my life trying to be quiet enough not to be noticed. not because i didn’t have anything to say—but because grief took the words from me before i ever had the chance to speak.

this season changed my life. not just because of the results, but because i finally stopped running from the part of me that hurt the most. my father was everything to me. and losing him the way i did shattered something i didn’t know how to rebuild—until recently. the truth is- i’m proud to be his daughter. but i’m also proud of the woman i’ve become, entirely on my own.

to those who’ve seen me when i couldn’t see myself—thank you. to the ones who stayed kind even when i stayed quiet—you mean more than you know.

and to the person who reminded me i’m allowed to be loved, messy and whole—i love you.

—

user has disabled comments on this post.

—

twitter!

f1gossipgirl : YN just did an interview from her home with Lissie Mackintosh going into detail about her childhood and revealed that Ayrton Senna is in fact her father. She spoke about how her father’s tragic death left her emotionally shut her down for most of her life— and she chose silence as form of self protection. She led Lissie through a room in her house which held a large collection of her father’s helmets and trophy’s and she shared a few photos of them on her instagram today— which her new instagram handle is @/ynsenna. She also revealed in this interview that she is indeed dating Oscar Piastri. Oscar was behind the camera silently supporting her during the interview. Thoughts?

—

view 802,482 comments.

username0 : i’m crying real tears. she carried the weight of that legacy in complete silence. absolute warrior.

username14 : Oscar being behind the camera and just silently supporting her???? marriage. immediately.

username20 : now it all makes sense. the silence, the eyes that always looked a little sad. she’s been carrying so much. proud doesn’t even begin to cover it.

username15 : she didn’t win the championship for the world. she won it for her dad and for the little girl who lost her dad. i’m not okay.

username17 : everything about this interview was raw and honest. we don’t deserve her but god do we respect her.

username30 : the fact she said nothing for years and let people think the worst of her, just to protect herself?? she’s not cold. she’s human. and she deserves peace.

—

oscarpiastri

liked by ynsenna, maxverstappen1, lando & 10,273,005 others.

oscarpiastri : proud to know you. proud to love you. you are the strongest human i know. you made him proud, sweetheart.

—

user has disabled comments on this post.

—

The interview with Lissie had gone live less than twelve hours ago. I’d barely blinked since then. I was curled up on my couch, hoodie three sizes too big, hair in a bun, face completely bare. Oscar sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, his back leaning against the couch between my legs. I absentmindedly ran my fingers through his hair while he scrolled through TikTok with the volume low. My phone buzzed every five seconds on the table, but I ignored it. Oscar didn’t ask questions. He just stayed. And he was quiet in that way that felt like peace.

The soft hum of city traffic below filled the silence until—

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Someone was knocking on my door like it owed them money. Oscar and I both jolted.

“Are you expecting someone?” he asked, twisting to look at me.

“No—wait. Shhh. Listen.”

BANG BANG BANG.

Then—“YN! OPEN UP! YOU OWE US A DAMN EXPLANATION!”

That voice. That unhinged tone.

“Oh my god,” I whispered. “Is that—Max?”

Oscar looked up at me. “Should I get the bat?”

I was still laughing as I padded to the door, the sound of voices growing louder.

“Carlos, stop pressing the buzzer, it’s annoying.”

“She’s probably ignoring us—”

“She probably moved to Brazil, bro.”

“Shut up, George.”

“YN, IF YOU DON’T OPEN THIS DOOR I’M GETTING THE SPARE FROM CHRISTIAN!”

I opened the door. And immediately got hit with a wave of chaos. Max was at the front like the ringleader. Behind him stood Charles, Lando, Carlos, Pierre, Yuki, Lewis, George, and Alex, all staring at me like I’d just casually announced I was royalty.

“Hi,” I said blandly.

“‘Hi’?! That’s all we get?” George sputtered.

Max shouldered his way in first, eyes wide. “You—YOU—” He pointed at me. “Are Senna’s daughter and you didn’t tell anyone?!”

“I told Oscar,” I mumbled, leaning against the door frame.

“Yeah, okay, Oscar gets a free pass,” Lando said dramatically, waving a hand as he walked in. “Since he is the boyfriend.”

“I can’t believe you’re his,” Pierre said, mouth open as he stared around the apartment.

Yuki beelined for my kitchen. “Do you have snacks?”

Carlos gave me a look that was half stern, half soft. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Lewis stepped forward, eyes kind. “You didn’t have to. But… damn. That was powerful, YN.”

“Yeah,” Charles agreed, nodding slowly. “I cried, but that might’ve been the wine.”

The room was buzzing. Full of movement, questions, half-jokes, too much cologne, and disbelief so thick I could feel it crackling in the air like electricity. And yet, through it all, I just… Chuckled. I mean — this was my life now? Eight world-class athletes pacing my apartment like it was a race strategy debrief while Oscar, my boyfriend, my soulmate, looked like he wanted to protect me from the emotional onslaught with nothing but a throw pillow.

Max stared at me. “What’s funny?”

I smiled — wide and honest. “You guys are all losing your minds in my living room. Like I’m a unicorn or something.”

George raised a finger. “To be fair, you are. We just didn’t know it.”

Lando turned toward Oscar. “You knew. You absolute sneaky bastard.”

Oscar held up his hands, all innocence. “She told me. I didn’t say anything. Not even in the group chat.”

“I’m so proud of you, and also I hate you,” Pierre muttered, clapping Oscar’s shoulder.

And then — without warning — Max said, “Alright, that’s it. Everyone shut up.”

I blinked. “What—”

He lunged. Then Lando. Then Charles. Then George. Before I could even think to protest, I was being dragged into a ridiculous, suffocating, all-limbs, too-many-colognes, full team group hug. My face was squished between Max’s shoulder and Pierre’s head. Oscar laughed and wrapped his arms around all of us from the outside.

Someone yelled, “We’re proud of you!”

Someone else yelled, “She’s a Senna but she’s our YN!”

And I think it was Alex who shouted, “WE LOVE YOU, WORLD CHAMP!”

I couldn’t breathe. Not from the pressure of the hug — from the feeling of it all. Acceptance. Support. Love. After years of walls, of silence, of solitude, it all rushed in like the wave I didn’t know I’d been bracing for. And I let myself sink into it. Maybe, just maybe, I didn’t have to carry the legacy alone anymore.

—

[grogumaximus]

Motorsport legend Ickx is crazy about Verstappen: 'He is one of the few who still recognizes me'

The 80-year-old raced in Formula 1 from 1966 to 1979 for McLaren, Brabham, Ferrari and Lotus, among others. He also took part in the Dakar and was very competitive in endurance racing. Ickx has won the 24 Hours of Le Mans six times. Without having to ask, the Belgian starts talking about Verstappen.

'It's like they suddenly discovered Max. Even when he's not in the best car, which they say has to be the best car, he still manages to be there.'

'That's the difference between an ordinary driver and an exceptional driver. He doesn't have to prove anything anymore, but he's still there'

'What you have to understand is that racing is very difficult these days, because it's not about tenths of a second, but about milliseconds. And... Max is Max!'

'I like him very much. He's one of the few who still recognizes me in the paddock. I come from a different time, you're not supposed to know me, He's one of the few drivers, who lives in a demanding time, who still comes up to me to say hello. That touches me.'

'He is a good person, but there are only 24 hours in a day. It is a full-time job these days. There is almost no time for anything else in a race weekend. I don't want to disturb them either, because they are all so focused.'

When F1Maximaal.nl wants to ask about the time he drove and then wants to talk about the current era of Formula 1, Ickx corrects:

'You should never compare. It's a big mistake. You have to live in the present, look at the present. Senna, Schumacher, Max... They all have different characters, but Max is one of those exceptional people who have something extra compared to others'

'Those exceptional people are Prost, Senna, Fangio. They just had something more. That's why I can say: in the past they talked about the best car, but Max doesn't have the best car. He's still there. That shows how exceptional he is'

Ickx continues. He sees Verstappen driving even better than last year.

'Certainly! He's gaining experience. You also see: within the same team you have two drivers... Whoever they are, Max is still at the front. That says enough.'

[slutforpringles]

Hunter Lawrence and Jase McAlpine discussing Daniel's progress jumping on a dirtbike and how he's built a lot of new larger jumps at his farm in Perth

HL: But, dude, how far has Daniel progressed on a pit bike? Did you see the latest jumps he's built? JA: They're massive. He was inspired by Axel's. You know the coolest part too? So we, it's so funny, we were just riding some mountain bike trails at home, a couple of big jumps. And he's starting to do the bigger jumps. So then we get out to Axel's and we both are riding around and I'm like, this can't be the pit bike track, these jumps are fucking huge, like there's no way. Both of us were just like we're not gonna jump any of these jumps and I'm not, I don't really care. I don't want anything to do with it, I'm not doing it. But Danny, for his own reasons wants to do it - and it's not because of peer pressure and it's not because of any of that. But I kind of figured it out; he's had to spend the last 10 - 15 years of his life saying no and saying if I wasn't a Formula One driver I would do it, but in the back of his head he's like fuck, would I do it? So you literally see him and he's going through the battle with himself. There was one jump, did you see the jump he did at Axel's? Bro, I was not doing it and even he's like, are you even looking at this? I'm like, nope, not interested. And he stood on the, he was on the roll in and I'm said look bud, you've thought about it for a while, if I'm looking at a jump for this long, I'm not doing it. He's like, I'm doing it. I'm doing it. And it's just cool that he's proven to himself that all of the years of him saying I would do it if. And that's actually fucking cool, like that's a very genuinely cool reason to want to push yourself, there's no vanities not trying to be cool for anyone. It's like no I need to prove to myself that I actually can be the dude that I said I was gonna be for 15 years. HL: I remember the end of 2021, we were riding at one of his mate's places up in north of LA. And we were on the kids track, and I mean like kids track, like tabletop from here to here - tiny. And he was jumping, I don't think it was the first time he was jumping, but you know, he looked how a beginner looks and he was stoked on like a foot of air. He was like, dude, this is crazy and he'd jump and be like, boner air, stiff like just flying fish, you know? And now he's like hitting, dude, the stuff he's built back at the farm. I would be like, I've never really done much on a pit bike, and I'd be like, yeah I'll follow you over it, let me see you hit it a few times and okay. But nah, hats off to him. Stud. JA: Yeah, he's sending it. And it's only gonna, like his place is only gonna get bigger and bigger. HL: He's gonna be riding Axel's place next year. Two years from now, he'll be on a big bike maybe. JA: That's the next step, getting him on the big bikes. HL: Yeah, I did say to him the other day like I think he would get a bit better on a big bike because I feel like riding a pit bike is tough. It's a completely different style to a bigger bike, I think. It's easier on a big bike. JA: It's just his mentality though. Like it was very cool to see someone like, cause there's so many reasons you can do things, you know, but to see someone like it was just a good lesson in doing something for the right reason. And he's, I've said it a bunch of times, I mean, I'll just glaze him again, but it's just like, he's, and you could speak to this as well. There's a guy that's done everything. He's won the fucking Monaco Grand Prix. The top of the top of the top in sport. He's crazy famous. He's got literally millions and millions of dollars. The world is... He won. He won the game of life. And he is the fucking nicest, most humble and best person and like a good friend to the people that he's friends with. And it's such a lesson in humility. And it's a lesson that no matter what you do, no matter how far you get, no matter how great the world thinks you are, that is the level that a person should carry themselves.

via: Gypsy Tales Podcast | The Hunter Lawrence Story: Leading His Family to One of the Greatest Runs in Motocross History

[vettelsvee]

i did something bad with jenson button

I DID SOMETHING BAD | Jenson Button

⋆ PAIRING: Dom!Jenson Button x Sub Alonso!Reader ⋆ SUMMARY: You, Fernando Alonso's daughter, have a one night stand with one of your dad's closest friends, and keep going with it even when he's lost his flight to go back home ↳ REQUESTED: Yes! Thanks for requesting and hope you like it anon 💖 Part of REPUTATION in MY TORTURED DRIVERS DEPARTMENT ⋆ WARNINGS: Smut (male receiving oral sex, unprotected sex, p in v, hard and rude sex, dirty talk, slightly overstimulation with female receiving oral sex), age gap (Jenson is 45 and reader is 25), cheating, curse words ⋆ WORD COUNT: 2220 ⋆ VEE'S NOTES: I feel dirty when writing smut and I'm always unsure about if I'm writing the best way possible lmao. Anyways, hope you like this one! Feel free to comment and reblog since it helps me a lot to grow and they're very much appreciated :) Thank you so much, and enjoy your reading! <3 ↳ LET'S TALK/REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

Jenson knew he was in trouble the moment he opened his eyes.

The sun, partially filtered through the curtains, hit him directly in the face, a harsh reminder that it was probably much later than he had thought.

With his free hand, he reached for his phone on the nightstand. A quick glance confirmed his fears: 11:27 a.m. He was supposed to be up by seven. Whether he had turned off the alarm himself or simply slept through it, he couldn’t say.

He cursed under his breath. He’d missed his flight back to Los Angeles.

His stomach twisted as he noticed several unread messages from his wife. He hadn’t even opened the chat, but the sight alone made his pulse race. Not only did he have to explain that he missed the flight, but also the reason why.

Who was the reason why.

Y/N Alonso.

Fernando Alonso’s daughter.

One of his best friend’s in Formula 1 daughter.

Guilt surged through him not just because you were stunningly beautiful, but because of what had happened the night before. A whirlwind of emotion gripped his chest: desire and regret, excitement laced with a crushing wave of guilt.

He should’ve known better. Back at the hotel, when Fernando introduced you again after all those years, he should’ve walked away the moment your father did. He should’ve left when you stayed behind. He knew it the instant your fingers slid into his hair with brazen ease, right there in that club, when you pulled him close and he couldn't stop himself from grabbing your waist, drawing you in, whispering that this couldn't happen there—but it could in his hotel room.

Jenson knew he’d done something wrong.

So why the hell did it feel so good?

“Fuck me...”

He sat up, dragging a hand down his face and glancing over to the other side of the bed.

Empty.

Panic started to bubble. Had you left? Slipped out quietly without saying anything?

But then, he started hearing footsteps on the wooden floor. The sound of water running. And laughter. That laugh. That spoiled, triumphant laugh of a girl who always got what she wanted, no matter how long it took or what it cost.

“Are you actually there, or is this hangover messing up with me?” he called out.

You heard him perfectly. And, naturally, you did what you did best: tease.

You turned off the shower and stepped out of the bathroom into the bedroom wearing nothing but one of his shirts, completely unbuttoned, your chest bare, no panties, and your hair tangled in wild disarray.

“I may have turned off your alarm," you said, feigning innocence. “I don't remember if it was with my right hand or my left... Do you remember which one wasn't holding your head while you were eating me out?”

Jenson stared at you, clenching his jaw. Tense, nervous and increasingly worried as well as excited about wanting more of you.

“You little—”

“I just couldn't let you sleep for only an hour and a half before you had to get up for the airport," you interrupted him, placing yourself between his legs as you brushed his bare thighs with yours. “What would your wife think if she saw you coming home with dark circles under your eyes and hickeys on your neck, all over your chest, and what about your d—?”

Her eyes roamed up and down your legs. Then, he started to look up at your pussy to go to your breasts, where he could see a lot more red marks around them than he remembered you getting.

“Do you think that's funny?” Jenson asked you in a low, menacing tone.

You bit your lip and couldn't help but laugh.

“Yeah, sort of.”

You didn't say anything else. Neither did he. 

He quickly grabbed you by the wrist, and forced you to the floor. Panting, but you didn't resist; at least, that's what you had shown him the night before, where he ruined you in ways you never thought a man could ruin you, especially if he was 20 years older than you.

“If I'm going to be even later, make it worth it.”

“Listen to me: every time you fuck your wife from now on, you're going to remember me whether you like it or not. I’m already imagining you moaning my name while you’re between her thighs…”

Jenson spread his legs, his cock half erect. 

Your eyes widened as you finished making yourself comfortable in front of him, a big smile playing between his lips. You wrapped your hand around his cock, and began to stroke it slowly and torturously.

“Don't fucking tease yourself. Open your mouth.”

You obeyed instantly. With your eyes on his, you stuck your tongue out and began to lick his cock until you decided to take it in halfway. Jenson let out a groan, making a ponytail with your hair and pulling on it, forcing you to take it further.

“You like ruining my schedule, don’t you? Let's see if this teaches you to stop being a bad girl.”

He began to fuck your mouth, without slow rhythms or mercy. His hips moved forward with great speed, his left hand still encircling your hair to guide the rhythm and your lips wrapped around his cock as tears appeared in your eyes. You felt small retches, but you kept going, moaning as Jenson did.

“Filthy little girl..." he grunted. “Look at you: sucking my cock as if your mouth was made just for that. Although I think it is... What do you think? Agree with me?”

You moaned again, though louder this time, cupping your cheeks to force his cock deeper into you. You started touching your clit; you were horny, too horny, and you needed to cum before Jenson had a chance to make you cum.

“Keep it going, darling. You’re doing wonderfully…”

Suddenly, there was a knock on your door.

You both froze, but you went about your business until, again, the knocks were heard again followed by the voice you least wanted to hear in a situation like this:

“Princess?”

Of course, it was your father. His voice was calm, curious, although he also sounded a little worried.

“Are you all right? You haven't come down for breakfast, and it's pretty late, so I was wondering if you were okay…”

You gasped, opening your eyes wide as you now masturbated Jenson's cock with your hands while making little circles on the tip, something that seemed to be driving him crazy with the way he was throwing his head back.

Jenson, however, didn't move or flinch, as if it wasn’t the first time he was in that situation.

“Answer him. Now.”

You shook your head, shoving his cock back into your mouth to avoid listening to him, panicking about your father catching you with one of his best friends...like this.

Jenson laughed; he lifted your chin, forcing you to stop eating him, and stroked your lip with his thumb.

“Y/N, is everything really ok?” Fernando spoke again.

You swallowed hard as you tried to catch your breath, still on your knees and with the taste of Jenson's precum in your mouth.

“I'm—” your voice cracked, but you quickly cleared your voice and continued: “I'm fine, Dad! I just... I had a terrible night and fell asleep. Sorry!”

You didn't get an answer, but you did hear footsteps that were more than enough for you to know that your father had already left.

Jenson leaned toward you, brushing his lips against your ear, biting it softly.

“Do you think he would still trust me if he knew I had his little girl kneeling in front of me and sucking my cock like a whore?”

You let out a shaky sigh, your cheeks immediately becoming flushed. 

“Do you want to keep going?” Jenson asked, jerking his cock as he regained his composure.

You nodded, out of breath and letting your adrenaline take over.

“God, yes. Fuck my dad.”

Just as you were about to put your length back in, he pulled away, leaving you confused and saliva dripping from your lips.

“Stand up,” he ordered. ”I want you lying on your back on the bed. I hope you remember that things here are done the way I want.”

And you couldn't be more grateful for the control he had over you. You loved it. 

You sat up, trying not to let your legs shake too much. You climbed onto the mattress, taking off your shirt so that you were completely naked before him, and opening your legs without a hint of shyness so that he could see how wet you were without any shame; the mess he had turned you into with just a blowjob.

Jenson climbed on top of you, barely bothering to give you any sweet words or slow caresses. Instead, he grabbed your thighs, pulled them apart and brutally rammed into you.

“This is what you wanted, isn't it?” He grunted, ramming into you at a tremendous pace. “You wanted me to miss my flight so you could act all bratty with me and I could fuck you hard, huh?”

“Yes, fuck, yes…” you gasped, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Harder, Jenson, please...”

He obeyed, ramming you again and again, without stopping or giving you time to catch your breath, each thrust harder than the last. The headboard hit the wall, and you completely forgot that Oscar Piastri was the one in the room next to yours, and that he would surely ask you, sjyly, who it was that was making you feel so good.

Your moans turned into screams the moment he started rubbing your clit the wildest way possible.

“You can't believe you're going to tease me the way you've been doing and stay so quiet without paying,“ he growled against your neck. “I'm going to fuck you that hard you're going to feel me for days. You're not going to be able to walk and you're going to have to make up an excuse... unless you want to tell your father that it was me who did this to you because you're a whore who likes older men.”

You moaned underneath her, trying to hold back the orgasm you knew was about to come. Your fingernails were scratching his back, and you couldn't help but get aroused at the thought of his wife seeing them and interrogating him.

“I want it all, Jenson. I want it all from you, fuck…”

Jenson grabbed your wrists and held them above your head, fucking you even harder even though you thought it wasn't possible. You felt your body and mind were beginning to act separately; your body shuddered not only with every thrust, but with every word, every caress, that man devoted to you.

“Didn't you say you wanted me to fuck you hard? Well, I hope you won't complain about the consequences,” he hissed.

You couldn't hold back any longer. You began to scream. His name. That he would keep fucking you. That you were his. Your legs were shaking like hell; your body was arching as if you were possessing yourself, crumbling before him completely.

“Come for me, baby,” he commanded, rubbing your clit rapidly as his thrusts didn't slow down. 

Your orgasm tore you apart inside. Strong, violent, your whole body shaking uncontrollably as you screamed his name, shocked by the intensity that had just hit you. Your pussy clenched around his cock so tightly that you wrenched Jenson's orgasm from him seconds later, cumming inside you with little regard for the consequences.

Jenson collapsed beside you the moment he carefully pulled out, not without first cleaning up the mess he'd made between your thighs with his tongue, overstimulating you just enough to make you squirm, though he stopped before pushing you into a second orgasm.

You were both drenched in sweat, panting heavily, struggling to catch your breath and regain some semblance of composure. Your hair was a wild mess, your lips swollen, and your bodies marked with a generous collection of hickeys and scratches, marks you were both immensely proud of, despite the inevitable consequences.

But that was the least of your concerns right now.

"You're trouble, Y/N Alonso," Jenson muttered, his eyes fixed on you, his hand lazily tracing the curve of your waist.

"And that’s exactly what you love about me. Let me remind you: you’re the one with a family. I’m not."

He sighed, as if silently agreeing with you, though without a trace of regret. He rolled over and pulled you into his arms, delivering a few playful slaps to your ass.

"The next time you turn off the alarm I swear I’m tying you to the bed and blindfolding you. That way you won’t know what I’ll be doing when I decide to torture you."

You laughed, though deep down, the filthiest part of you was already plotting something outrageous for your next encounter just to see if he was a man of his words.

"When’s the next time you’re coming to a race with SkySports?" you asked, your voice dripping with faux innocence, though your intentions were anything but that. "You know… so I can misbehave again. And you can punish me.

[kandyscorner]

Hello!!!! I've been thinking recently like what about Jason Todd takes the reader on a ride with his motorcycle but like she's never been on a motorcycle. She acts nonchalant about it, like she's not nervous about it(she is) and since she doesn't own any safety gear that she doesn't need it, but Jason makes her wear stuff anyway like a helmet and maybe his jacket. And like then when the bike starts up she suddenly clutches tightly to Jason in slight fear. Just a protective Jason idea I had and since I'm not a writer it's just been a thought for me. Hope you like it!!!!

this ask was fun because there's a chapter in my Do I Know you? series that is a lot like this. it was good practice to try and write the scene a little different. Thank you! and enjoy!

****

“Oh, you’re driving a motorcycle,” you say, staring at the bike before you.

“Told you it was in the shop. Three weeks and those assholes made the problem worse. Had to take her somewhere else but now,” he grins at you and pats the seat of the bike, “she’s ready for a ride.”

You press your cheek to your shoulder, hands suddenly sweaty in your pocket, “of course you call the bike a she.” You joke, trying to cover the building anxiety in your chest.

“You don’t need to be jealous, sweetheart.” He steps into your space, hand pressing to the side of your face, “you’re much prettier.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, tucking your face into his neck with a blush. His arms wrap around you in a tight hug.

He's tugging you from your hiding place far sooner than you're ready for, still trying to use his proximity to unsuccessfully cool your nerves.

“you ready? It'll be fun.” You keep your mouth shut but give him a tense smile and nod. 

You knew he rode a bike. He told you about it, shown you pictures. And while you found the concept very attractive, the bike, very much a real thing in front of you now, was intimidating.

You'd never ridden a motorcycle before but you had heard horror story's of shredded skin and broken bones. You worry you're not dressed correctly and that you certainly don't have any safety gear for yourself.

Jason gives you a meaningful look and tugs you forward towards the bike, “come get a closer look. Promise she doesn't bite.”

The lightfulness in his tone reminds you to breathe. Any vehicle was as safe as the person driving. Your positive Jason is a good driver, based on the amount of times he's actually told you about the bike, he probably rode it often.

“It's pretty,” you tell quietly as you take a closer look.

“Not as pretty as you.” he repeats his earlier statement, softer this time and you turn to find him staring at you already with the slight forlorn look he gets sometimes.

You reach out to poke at his side in jest and he curls his hand around yours.

“you okay with this?” he asks, direct eye contact emphasizing the importance of the answer to him, “I should've asked before. We can postpone it and I can bring the car instead.”

You flush at his sudden rush to accommodate you (clearly you hadn't hidden it very well) despite his excitement about the bike.

“It's okay,” you placate him with a tiptoed kiss to his cheek, “as long as you make sure I don't fall off, yeah?” You ask the question to lighten the space between you but your worry sits at the edge of your voice.

he blinks at you for a moment, before his mind clearly clicks back into the conversation. 

“like I'd every let something like that happen.” He nearly scoffs at you before he lets go of your hand to tug off his leather jacket. He holds it up to you in offering.

“What?”

He playfully rolls eyes at your question but patients bleed into his tone, “safety first sweetheart.” 

You turn around, nearly losing your balance in the spin due to the sudden awareness of how you didn't have to say anything to Jason for him to know what was bothering you.

His jackets warm from his body and too big but that does deter him as he faces you and zips up the jacket for you. It takes a moment for you to realize he's talking to you.

“-on to me, okay?”

“What?” he edges into your space at the question, cornering you against the bike.

“I know you can be a good listener, sweetheart. Could you do that for me?” He grins down at you and you wrinkle your nose at him.

“Don't patronize me, jay. I could still change my mind.” He eases up out of your space pulling the helmet that had been resting atop the bike with him. 

“I need you to hold on to me tight when I accelerate and to brace your weight against the tank when…” he continues on with directions for when he turns, how to get on and off, and how to get his attention. 

He pauses in between sentences to press the helmet over your head and then continues talking as he tightens it.

“If you ever feel uncomfortable and like you want to get off, you tell me, understand?” he asks. You nod and his fingers curl into the chin of the helmet to gently tug you.

“Words, Sweetheart.” he says sternly. You're suddenly thankful for the helmet because of the flush on your skin that it covers.

“Yeah, I’ll tell you.” You finally say timidly. His hand moves from the helmet to cradle the side of your neck.

“That’s my girl,” He coos at you and you wrap your hand around his wrist to pull at him.

“Let's go,” you say cheerfully, “We have places to be and things to do.”

Jason stares you down. It makes you itch at the way his expression alone digs at you. You stare back as well as you can through the visor of the helmet. You would never tell Jason not to do something simply because you don't want to do it. Especially something he definitely knew how to handle.

“I’m serious, Jay, let's go,” you hop on your feet, hoping to give an air of excitement to your words instead of anxiety. He finally shrugs his shoulders and climbs onto the bike, helping you climb on behind him. 

He takes the time to make sure you're settled before even turning on the bike. WIth the bike on, you place nervous hands at his waist, mildly resting there. You want to hug him in a vice grip but you think that might give away your feelings. His hand settles on top of your knee, curling around it slightly. You tip to that side trying to see his face assuming he wants to talk to you. 

The bike gives a sudden jolt forward, your body jerking slightly back with the movement. Your neutrally placed hands scramble to wrap around him tightly. He has the nerve to laugh at you, hand at your knee tightening.

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart,” he says and despite his laughter, you can hear the sincerity in his words. His hand leaves your knee to resituate your hands, one wrapped tight around him and the other pressed to the gas tank.

“Holding on,” he taps the hand pressed to his stomach and then taps the one at the tank, “bracing, okay?” you nod at the question and his hand pinches lightly at your leg.

“Okay,” you answer after attempting to smack his hand in retaliation. He doesn’t even move his hand away, not threatened by you. His hand rubs soothing circles into your thigh before it returns to the handlebars.

“I'm going to move,” he tells you one last time and your arms tighten around him as he slowly brings the bike into the street and then you're off. You can tell he’s being cautious, that this isn't how he usually drives, but you can't help but be grateful. Your hands rub and squeeze at his chest in show of that gratitude. You can tell he understands when, at a stoplight, his hand comes to hold yours there, a silent communication. 

You think you could come to like motorcycle rides, especially with Jason as the driver.

Masterlist

[nyoomfruits]

88 for choscar!! accidental adoption to accidental marriage core >:3

88. “Don’t panic but I think we might have accidentally gotten married…”

“Alright, don’t panic,” Lando says, as he enters Oscar’s drivers room. “But I think we might have accidentally gotten married.”

Oscar blinks at him. Frowns. Blinks again. “What?”

Lando shoves his legs of the couch, sits down, and then puts Oscar’s legs back in his lap. “Remember the three planting thing?”

Vaguely. It was a thing for McLaren social media ages ago.

“Well, they just posted it and apparently in some cultures it’s a wedding thing, so. We’re married.”

“Right,” Oscar says. “I don’t think it works like that.”

Lando pouts at him. Oscar raises an eyebrow. “I’m still going to tell people we got married,” he says. “For fun.”

“Please don’t do that,” Oscar says. At some point, someone outside of their tiny driver circle is going to pick up on it. It’s going to be a whole thing. Andrea is going to yell at them and then Zak is going to yell at them. They might even yell at them at the same time. Either way it’s not going to be pretty.

Lando doesn’t respond, has gone back to scrolling on his phone. Oscar sighs, and goes back to scrolling on his.

--

“So, I heard you and Lando got married,” Charles says, sliding into the booth Oscar’s sitting at. The club they’re in is pretty crowded, but everyone left the table Oscar’s been sitting at ages ago, so it’d just been him. Until now.

“Oh, for the love of-“ Oscar pinches the bridge of his nose. “We’re not married. We just did some tree thing and now he’s been telling everyone we’re married.”

“Oh, yeah, Max and I did that ages ago,” Charles says, absentmindedly. When Oscar raises an eyebrow at him, Charles adds. “Not married, though. But you like. Like him right? You two seem close.”

Oscar wants to laugh, but then he’d have to explain why he’s laughing, and then he’d have to explain to Charles that it’s preposterous to think he’s in love with Lando when both him and Lando know he’s very much in love with Charles. “He’s nice, but it’s not like that.”

“Ah,” Charles says. “So no one for you, then?”

Oscar glances at Charles, the way he’s playing with his drink instead of looking at Oscar, the way his face seems a little flushed. “I mean, not at the moment?”

Charles nods. “Cool, that’s cool. That’s good.”

“Is it?” Oscar asks. “It’s a little lonely.” Either he’s hallucinating or him and Charles have moved closer together over the course of this conversation. Their elbows are now brushing. “Would love to plant a tree with someone.”

“I would,” Charles says, still not looking at Oscar. His elbow presses closer. “Plant a tree with you, I mean.”

“Oh,” Oscar says. His heart is hammering in his chest. Is this really happening?

Charles turns to him, finally, smile a little mischievous and maybe a little nervous. “Wanna get out of here?”

“I don’t think there’s anywhere to plant a tree in Monaco,” Oscar says, a little dumbly because. Holy shit this is really happening.

Charles smiles, genuine now, gets up and extends his hand towards Oscar. “We’ll find a way.”

[jacksonekennedy]

Relief washed over Jack like the first drop of rain after a six month long drought. Hearing Alice admit that she didn't want to go either. Couldn't she just stay? Forever? Yes, Jack was saying forever after four days. It didn't matter. Nothing did. Because it occurred to Jack that rules didn't exist for these types of things.

His relationship to Sophia had lasted nearly two years, including the one year of marriage, and that hadn't worked out for him. Jack had never been so happy to get divorced now. Because here was Alice, a stranger (but not really, not at all), telling Jack that she just couldn't stop writing about him. A dozen paragraphs about the waterfall.

Alice assured Jack that she didn't want to make anything worse — his public image, and she leaned in to kiss him in between her words, before continuing: she was excited about the way she felt for him, and she wanted the world to know.

Jack exhaled, and a strange wave of emotion passed over his eyes. He swallowed, stared down at her knuckles. She wanted the world to know how she felt about Jack. It was a public declaration of love, and Jack couldn't wrap his head around that. Jack had criminal charges pending. She'd walked in on him snorting an obscene amount of cocaine earlier that evening. She didn't know about the pills in his luggage, or the other skeletons in his closet.

Did he deserve it? It felt like he didn't, but he was working very hard to earn it.

"I think it's easy because of the person you are." 

The person that he was. Is.

Jack would've walked over a thousand miles of broken glass if it meant that Alice was waiting for him at the end.

Jack would've walked over a thousand miles of broken glass if it meant he got to read just a single line of poetry from Alice.

Despite what she'd seen earlier that day, Alice wanted to share her feelings for Jack to the world.

"Alice…"

His brows were furrowed, and he realized that maybe he was gripping her fingers a little too hard. He relaxed, soothing whatever discomfort he'd caused with a brush of his thumb, again and again.

They weren't far from the airport now. Just a few turns away. And he felt the faint vibration of his phone. Notifications, maybe, that the plane was ready to go, or that there was a delay. He didn't care. He didn't care whenever Alice was telling him all of these things that he didn't deserve. Things that made him feel dizzy.

Words that charmed him. Words that made Jack feel like the most important man in the world. Words that made Jack feel so loved.

Purpose. Alice gave Jack purpose, and he felt like it was to love her for the rest of his days. Little by little, Alice was picking up all of the broken, damaged bits of Jack. She was smoothing them out, gluing them back together until he felt brand new again. She was doing the impossible. Alice and her hands — did she know she performed miracles with them?

The car came to an abrupt stop. He looked up, and there was the plane. He wasn't sure how long he'd been staring at her hands for. Maybe a few seconds. Minutes. He wasn't sure. Jack swallowed, before finally looking at Craig. His driver of many, many years.

Craig who kept a secret better than anyone else on his staff. Craig, who'd heard some pretty cruel and damaging arguments with his ex-wife, and there were never any leaks. Jack trusted the man, but it didn't stop Jack from blurting something out.

"Can you get out?"

It took Craig an awkward silence to register that Jack was talking to him. Jack realized the bluntness of his request, and added:

"Sorry. Can we have some space?"

Craig dismissed himself pretty quickly. The driver's side door shut, and Jack remained silent because he didn't know what to say to Alice. Well, he knew what to say, but it had only been four days. But Jack reminded himself: there were no rules for this. He went back to staring at her hands, and more time passed, but Jack wasn't sure how long.

It was the good kind of silence. Comfortable and soothing. He hoped that he hadn't worried Alice with his rash behavior, and the quiet that followed. He was just … cherishing the moment because everything was about to change.

There weren't any rules. Jack wanted to tell Alice that he was grateful to have met her, that she'd changed his life. He wanted to tell Alice that he wouldn't have changed anything that happened in the last six months. It led them to this very moment. But the words fell short. He wasn't a poet.

Jack was always a fan of keeping things simple — in the moment. No thought, just action. He finally looked into Alice's eyes.

"Alice... I love you very much."

A lot could happen in four days. Significant events. Life-altering events. If you told Alice, sitting in her office, one finger tapping idly at her wrist cushion, that she was going to completely abandon her original pitch she might laugh, in a shocked, disbelieving kind of way.

But that was Before Jack. Even on day two ... Alice just would have nodded. And agreed. Because of course this wasn't a regular interview now— of course the chambers of her heart had already begun to re-orient themselves to include Jack. And now? Nearing the end of the second week?

It felt like Alice had a new heart entirely. Old one ripped out and gutted and replaced with something influenced by a new, entirely unique understanding of love. It could happen at any time. Strike immediate, and hard, and it could turn everything on it's head, and yet the new orientation was beautiful.

So when Jack responds to her idea about the article with approval— well. It makes her next inhale feel all the more oxygen rich. She had a new perspective, feverish bursts of writing that she wanted and needed to share.

'I'd be … so honored, Alice.'

And not only that— Jack was honored.

Fuck. He was honored, to be written about by her? Alice feels a wide smile creep across her face, relief and excitement and a very innocent sort of shyness peeking through her features.

'I fell for you so fast. Like, it scares me how fast it happened. It scares me how I don't ever want you to leave.'

Like Jack, finally breathing, it all starts to tumble out of her.

"I don't want to leave either. At all."

A sharp, heavy breath.

"And I'm really— like really— glad you said yes, because I've written so fucking much. I didn't even realize I could write this much? But I've written so much about our time together, and falling for you so fast, I think I have half a dozen paragraphs just about the waterfall—"

Another breath, because the idea of Jack feeling honored about this is making her feel oxygen-rich and dizzy all at once.

And now he's kissing her fucking fingers. God.

Alice could write thirty volumes about that alone. Jack falling for her too— fast. Jack kissing each little fingertip.

"—And I know everything has been hell in the media lately, I don't wanna make it worse for you, but." Alice smiles at him. Steals a kiss before his lip can descend upon her fingertips again. "—my feelings for you excite me. And... I feel excited about them in a way I want to share that. How happy you've made me in just a few days. And how... fucking great you are? And if you're alright with that ... I would like people to know."

Clever Jack. Beautiful Jack. Playful, quick, quicksilver Jack, so generous with time and affection and loving words. She hoped she'd captured it all in her writing.

"My mentor in college always said you have to be able to stand on your writing. Like ... you should be able to do that backwards and forwards. And I feel like I can with everything I wrote. And will end up writing."

Alice feels like she could defend each sentence in front of a thesis panel.

"I think it's easy because of the person you are."

[mango-yoyo]

I'm new here, I've been reading Lance fics and I love them, but it broke my heart to see a writer my friends recommended, and I looked her up on here and she was hating Lance for some rumors that turned out to be false, my friends investigated a lot about it, and seeing how she talks about him, and that she believed in them when Lance has proven to be a good person, it really made me disappointed and broke my heart, it seems like she was never a real fan.

What fics do you recommend I read?

hi!!

first of all i'm sorry it took me so long to answer this. it always sucks when somebody you thought was super cool turns out to dislike your guy :(( but we have a thriving lance nation here, and lots of lance love to spread!!

in terms of fic recs:

moth to the flame by @pitconfirm. it's absolutely delightful and awkward and a character study in the best of ways. it's a consideration of relationships and vulnerability and i feel like it is SUCH an important lance piece. also. rare pair! status: completed. rating: M. word count: 4.8K

a gentle hand by zeolyte. featuring lance's canonical praise kink and desperate need to be Good, it's strollonso getting together in the most strollonso way possible: sex, misunderstandings, and more sex <3 very sweet and it has a happy ending! status: completed. rating: E. word count: 3.5K

monsoon by @fractalkiss. non-linear narrative and Complicated Relationships. i found it super fascinating, like taking a deep dive into lance's mind. also a lot about lance's relationships with the older drivers... ough it's complex in the best of ways. endless possibilities and strollonso. status: completed. rating: M. word count: 4K

finger trap by @rivalism. one of my first glance fics and it has since cemented itself as one of the hall-of-famers. lance through the eyes of george, and everything it entails, the contrast between them, the struggle of winning the battle just to lose the war (is it even a win if the other person isn't even aware it's a competition?). status: completed. rating: M. word count: 1.3K

sweet disposition (series) by @userkritaaay. i MUST recommend this whole series, it's insane. more glance, another one of the greats. featuring assumptions being shattered and relationships being formed and twisted and rebuilt again. it's more of lance through the eyes of george, but i still count it, simply because of the way everything is a study and an answer in one. absolutely brilliant. status: completed. rating: M. word count: 18.2K

comfy and cosy are we (snuggled up together) by @babycatgirlboy. this one was so cute and so indulgent. a comfy and cosy (very aptly named) holiday fic, featuring seblance and a sweet relationship <3 status: completed. rating: M. word count: 4.5K

the art of tender loving by anon. also aptly named, it's a wingfic (idk about you but i'm a SUCKER for them), featuring lance's broken wrists as a very handy plot device and the intimacy of grooming. i love the strollonso development, and it really captures the stages of falling in love, i think. status: completed. rating: NR. word count: 6K

for it is in giving that we receive by @f1ugmodus. another delight. very introspective, and the sort of developing relationships (lesteban!!) that make me shiver and kick my feet. it has a wonderful tone, sweet and bittersweet at the same time, and really thinks about love languages and how we give and receive love. status: completed. rating: T. word count: 4.8K

bowerbird by @wewentcarracing. another masterpiece that (very politely) devastated me. shy animal courting rituals INDEED. strollonso, and it's so emotionally deep. you can feel the uncertainty, the give and push that only comes from forming new relationships with history both known and unknown and an investment that can bring lesser people to their knees. so melancholy, so sweet, and a wonderfully hopeful ending. delightful. status: completed. rating: T. word count: 11.4K

maybe we got lost (in translation) by @alpinelogy. less lance and more lesteban, but an ode and a character study all the same. it explores lance and esteban meeting, growing up, and growing together in the best possible ways. friends to lovers personified. status: completed. rating: T. word count: 6.7K

there are so many more wonderful lance fics, with so many talented lance authors, and it was a real struggle to cap it to just 10. i hope you enjoy reading, and feel free to rec more fics from me!!

[russilton]

Russell's long wait: "Nobody knows when their time will come" In an exclusive interview, George Russell provides rare insights into his personality and private life, praises Lewis Hamilton – and draws a parallel to Michael Schumacher

Interview google-Translated from Motorsport-total.com

Since Lewis Hamilton's departure, he has been the new team leader of the Silver Arrows, the master of the Mercedes house, so to speak. And George Russell is a damn good master of the house – at least that's how a recently released commercial from Mercedes team partner Einhell suggests.

There's Russell cutting the grass and hedges in his huge villa, just as meticulously as you'd expect from someone with the image of the perfect son-in-law – and, along the way, he also talks about the unknown sides of the life of a Formula 1 star who apparently doesn't find it easy to switch off.

Well, you shouldn't believe everything you see on TV, in advertising, or on social media, as the same George Russell will tell us in this exclusive interview – in which we'll therefore ask the man directly about whom World Champion Max Verstappen said, during one of their many disputes over the past few months, that he has two faces: So which is his true face – and do the fans even get to see it?

The makers of the aforementioned commercial weren't entirely off the mark, that much can be revealed…

F1 "has been so polished and correct for many years"

Frederik Hackbarth: "George, we all laughed at the clip, but who came up with the idea? Because somehow it suits you perfectly: tidy, structured, everything in its place - right?"

George Russell: "I'd like to take credit, but the idea wasn't mine. As far as I know, it came from the production team we work with regularly. A really talented team with whom we've completed many projects. It was just nice to do something different and show a bit of personality. Formula 1 has been so polished and correct for many years, which hasn't really given me the chance to show my personality. So things like this are a good opportunity for that."

Hackbarth: "Where is this villa? I assume it's not yours?"

Russell: "No, no, it's in the South of France."

Hackbarth: "How different is it from your real home?"

Russell: "Oh, very different. My real home is smaller than this space [the ground floor of the Mercedes hospitality]. I live with my girlfriend in a two-bedroom apartment in Monaco. And I'm very happy with it. We've been living together for three years now - I don't need anything more."

Hackbarth: "So no garden?"

Russell: "No garden, no."

Hackbarth: "Is that something you would do yourself or did in the past?"

Russell: "As a child, at home, I always mowed the lawn - I loved it. There was something very therapeutic about it. Someday I'd like to have my own property with some land - maybe a small racing track for buggies, a paddle tennis court, space for animals, just a bit more space."

Hackbarth: "And the tools from the commercial - you probably don't need them right now, but do you actually get things like that for free?"

Russell: "Oh, they offered me the opportunity to choose whatever I wanted, but I didn't take anything. I'm honestly not a fan of just accepting things. I'm in a very privileged position, earning good money from the sport I love. Even if I'm given something for free, I'm happy to pay for it myself."

Discussing the toxicity of social media: Frederik Hackbarth and George Russell © circuitpics.de / Christoph Holland

But with the perks of being a Formula 1 driver come certain downsides; after all, the drivers are all social media stars these days. As Russell reveals, it's a double-edged sword…

Hackbarth: "I recently read that you paid your parents back, because as we all know, it's very expensive to make it to the top in motorsport. At the same time, you see a commercial like this one of yours, which conveys a certain image of the Formula 1 millionaire. We always see you guys on yachts and so on. Where is the reality there? Is it here or there—or somewhere in between? The whole thing must feel like a dream sometimes, even though you've been doing it for a few years now."

Russell: "No, definitely, it is a dream. Almost every morning I sit on the balcony with my girlfriend having breakfast, looking out at the sea—and say: 'This is a dream.' But it's not always all sunshine and roses. The people around you are more important than material possessions, if that makes sense. Still, what we experience isn't reality. We live in our own bubble. We're in the spotlight, people recognize us. If you go to a restaurant and people want photos or autographs, that's not normal."

"But we know that's part of it, I don't have a problem with it—it's not a sacrifice, it's just part of the job. But when you have time to get away from it all, you can retreat to the water, for example, to get some distance from everything. It's a wonderful way to feel normal again, so to speak, just being with friends, my girlfriend, or my family—that's when I really feel like myself."

Russell: "Don't show anyone who I really am"

Hackbarth: "You talk about the water—but even that is sometimes used to create certain images. When we talk about Netflix [Drive to Survive], for example, we've all seen you on the boat. For example, I have some friends who don't really have much to do with Formula 1, and yet they know you. Then they often say, 'Isn't that the guy who always takes his shirt off?' So, a certain image is created. How much of that is real? Or are you perhaps more of that nerd who mows the lawn—we also know the story about your PowerPoint presentation in a suit in front of Toto. Is that perhaps the real George Russell?"

Russell: "I think everything you see on social media, no matter who's posting it, is ultimately not reality. Because everyone's just trying to present the best version of themselves. If you take a hundred photos, you don't post the one where you have your eyes closed or look like an idiot. And that's exactly what's toxic about social media. For example, I have little nieces and nephews who look up to singers or influencers—and what we all show there isn't a normal life, if you know what I mean."

"To be honest, I probably don't show anyone who I really am—because that's also my safe space. When I'm with my girlfriend, my family, or my friends, there are no cameras. Then we're somewhere private—at my parents' house or their parents' house. Or on vacation, where no one's around, that's where we're completely ourselves. And then I don't want to be on my phone all the time, taking photos for social media."

Balancing the red carpet and private life: Russell and his girlfriend Carmen © Motorsport Images

"It's not quite that easy, though. It's not that easy because I also want to be authentic – because ultimately, the fans who watch Formula 1 and follow me are the ones who make the sport what it is. That's why sponsors pay money to be part of the team – and that's how I earn my living. You can't bite the hand that feeds you. You have to understand that times are changing."

"Kimi Räikkönen was such an incredible personality. But if he came into Formula 1 today as an 18-year-old, people would probably be dissatisfied if he didn't use social media or was so taciturn. That's the challenge we face today."

Hackbarth: "It's funny that you mention Kimi – because now there's the other Kimi [Antonelli], the 18-year-old. Have you ever talked to him about it? Because it must all be unbelievable for him – he's only been here six or seven races, but you're under so much pressure, so much attention, so much media interest. Any advice?"

Russell: "Yes, we've already talked a lot, and we're also on the road together at many sponsorship events. We travel together, have time to talk to each other. It's not easy for anyone – especially when you're so young. But he has such a fantastic team around him, and his parents are really great people who keep him grounded. At the end of the day, of course, he's just living his dream – the same one we all had at 18 […] But he's a very smart boy. He'll make his way."

"Toto and Susie are like family to me."

Hackbarth: "In the commercial, you can see you calling Toto. Since we're talking about team spirit and communication, and people you can talk to when things aren't going well: How realistic is that? How regularly do you talk? Do you call him every day and ask, 'So, how's it going?'"

Russell: "Well, in the winter, I usually see him every day. We live only 100 meters away from each other. We always like to have coffee together—with Susie and Carmen, my friend. Then we go downstairs for coffee, because we usually get up at the same time…"

Hackbarth: "When would that be?"

Russell: "Well, we're both rather late risers – so 10 a.m. is coffee time. And we rarely talk about work. We have a really close relationship; last year, for example, we were in the house together in Austria. I see… Toto and Susie are like family to me."

Successful duo: Mercedes team boss Toto Wolff and his new team leader © Motorsport Images

However, when the Mercedes driver isn't having coffee with his team boss or thundering around the world's racetracks at 300 km/h, he still doesn't get bored – after all, he also has another side job: one that has become significantly more explosive and intense in recent times due to the disputes between the drivers and FIA President Mohammed bin Sulayem. Russell has also been a director of the GPDA drivers' union since 2021 and, as such, advocates for the interests of the drivers…

Hackbarth: "You're very busy because you're also heavily involved with the GPDA. We hear about it again and again in the press conferences and probably all think we know what you're doing there. But isn't there a lot going on in the background that nobody sees – writing emails, for example, or organizing things? How much effort is really involved?"

Russell: "I'll be honest: Alex Wurz [GPDA President] and Anastasia Fowle, our legal advisor, are handling most of the heavy lifting. But of course, over the last 18 months, we've been much more involved than we originally expected because things have become so divisive."

"The developments were quite surprising, even for me personally. I was much more involved, but you have to find a balance. When I joined the GPDA, I didn't really intend to be so politically involved with the FIA, because that wasn't really a factor at all at the time. It was more of a collaborative effort."

Russell on the GPDA and the famous WhatsApp group

Hackbarth: "Would you prefer to resign from the position now?"

Russell: "No, I wouldn't. Because right now, we're riding a wave as a sport—but if you fall off the wave, things can go downhill very quickly. That's why we all need to remain very vigilant and not take Formula 1's current position for granted. The teams are doing a great job. Liberty and Stefano [Domenicali] are doing a fantastic job with marketing and promotion, as they recently did with Lego, for example."

"But it's like a Jenga tower: if a single brick falls, the whole structure can collapse. So we can't let up now, while we're in this strong position—because, as I said, things can change very quickly. Just as unexpectedly as the upswing came, it can also disappear again. That's why this phase is perhaps more crucial than ever."

Behind the scenes: George Russell in an interview with Frederik Hackbarth © circuitpics.de / Christoph Holland

Hackbarth: "When we talk about the GPDA, there's also this legendary WhatsApp group that all the drivers are in. Is it really just about serious things, like someone has an idea or concern and brings it up? Or is it more like a chat among friends where you share memes and funny things? How can you imagine that?"

Russell [laughs]: "Well, it's not just one or the other, it's probably a mix of both. Once a conversation gets going, the messages just fly back and forth. But it's obviously a pretty special group, because it's the 20 drivers, with Alex and Anastasia in the mix."

"We all have a good relationship with each other, although some people's is obviously better than others'. But it's a pretty unique chat group: Imagine if the 15 or 20 best footballers in the world had a group chat—you probably wouldn't see Messi and Ronaldo sending each other memes… so yeah, it's something special."

Hamilton? Relationship "even gotten a little closer"

Hackbarth: "Speaking of other drivers: Lewis has left the team. He was your teammate throughout your time at Mercedes. How is your relationship now? Do you still have regular contact, or has that dwindled a bit since he moved to Ferrari?"

Russell: "No, if anything, it's actually gotten a little closer. We sometimes fly together and talk to each other more often off the track, too."

Hackbarth: "Why would you say it's closer now? Because the sporting rivalry is different?"

Russell: "Yeah, to be honest, I can't really say. We just have a good relationship. Lewis is someone whose company I really enjoy. He's obviously in the spotlight, more than any of us—and sometimes a protective shield goes up. But in a familiar setting, he's someone I get along with really well. It's nice to have someone like him, someone I also ask for advice from time to time, because he's at a completely different stage of his career."

The fact that Russell was able to beat Hamilton in two of his three years as teammates at Mercedes made an impression in the paddock – after all, the Briton, who has since moved to Ferrari, is nothing less than the record world champion in the premier class. Russell has never made a secret of the fact that he considers his 13-year-older compatriot the best of all time.

Which leads to a very simple question…

Hackbarth: "So what does that actually say about you, what does it mean?"

Russell: "I'll leave that up to you to judge. I just drive, week after week. I've always said I'm not afraid of being anyone's teammate. At the end of 2021, Lewis was the hottest prospect in the field. Nobody would have thought anyone at Mercedes could beat him as a teammate. I came in and performed from the first race. I've always believed in myself."

"The reputation he had is the same one Max has now. Nobody believes Max is beatable. And that's exactly how people thought about Lewis back then. People forget that Lewis came into Formula 1 as a rookie back then—and finished on the podium in every one of his first six races [Note: Actually, it was nine], with a two-time world champion as his teammate. That says a lot."

Russell's contract with Mercedes expires at the end of 2025, the Briton wants to stay © circuitpics.de / Christoph Holland

Hackbarth: "To turn that around: Kimi was also impressive in the early races, recently taking the sprint pole in Miami. Are you sometimes a little jealous of him, because you had to spend three years at Williams on your way up? And he comes in straight away, perhaps at just the right time - considering that the engine should make Mercedes at least one of the favorites next year. You felt like you had to wait longer for your chance…"

Russell: "Look at Fernando [Alonso]: He comes in, wins two titles in his first four years - and people say: 'He'll win ten.' He hasn't won a title since then. Or Sebastian [Vettel]: He wins four – and then no more after that. If you look at Michael Schumacher: It took him five years at Ferrari before he won his first title there. This is my fourth year at Mercedes, next year will be my fifth…"

Hackbarth: "I mean… is that certain?"

Russell: "No, it's not certain. Nothing is certain. But if I stay at Mercedes, then next year will be my fifth year with the team. Nobody knows when their time will come. You just have to make sure you keep performing consistently, keep delivering. And what happens then – that remains to be seen."

[dannyriccsystem]

🐟 anon here! love and light to all the drivers!! they're all such cuties to me 💙 (I am neutral on some but yeah can't understand being a hater on any of the drivers, the various teams are working overtime fucking up everything so you can have a perfectly justified entity to hate :3 jk) so time for driver love analysis 💙

the McLaren babies!! Oscar is obviously very cat/bunny coded, and frankly there's not much to hate about a quiet boy doing his job (winning) and looking munchable while doing it 😺 and lando!! his recent stream + the red flag f1 video has re-endeared him to me, the duality of quiet/loud that exists in lando is so interesting to me, and his smiling face is very cute 😊

the WILLIAMS BOYS!! I am a Carlos sainz fan first and foremost but both Williams boys are so funny and wholesome to me 💙 they were both very funny in the red flag video (I just watched it so it's firmly impressed on my brain) admitting they do red flag activities (talk during movies and forget people's names) Carlos was also very stunning in the madring exhibition (the princess of Spain frfr his hair was STUNNING) I am unsure of what alex has been up to but the first photo on his post Spain dump was GORGEOUS (he looks sooooo good in the sun 🤤) and on a racing side they've both been working well as a team! 🙌

ferrariiii ❤️ I cannot lie I have been looking away from them but yes Charles and lewis are both gorgeous boys (working hard to bring that car places) so Charles!! him and his brothers were so handsome in the Lorenzo wedding photodump 😩 and also he's so pretty in his new merch drop ❤️ and LEWIS! ok this man truly does not appear on my feed but although I always see him going through the Ferrari Horrors™ he does seem to be having fun out of f1! and yes sir lewis hamilton is always stunning ✨

red bull 🐂 hm their team situation is certainly something but both max and yuki are!! gorgeous boysss 😶 yuki got me going crazy with every photodump (and the red bull modeling reel. that did things to my brain chemistry) and max! new father and mother of the grid 💙 I do love seeing max adopt all the rookies

VCARBBB my favourite social media team and my favourite rookie isack hadjar 💙 both Liam and isack have been so endearing to me with their lip syncs (liam has become a little closer to my heart after seeing how seriously he takes the lip syncs. the plasma tv BTS was a joy to watch) and ISACK my little goat 🐐 I thirst over his arms a lot but shksndkfkf he's such a cutie it's absurd (I love seeing him in sweaters like he was at the PSG game + Rolland garros) him suggesting the sleeping compilation was also a Top 10 Isack Moment for me (he's just a sleepy child 🥹)

haaaaaas ❤️ they've been kind of under the radar for me but I LOVE ESTIE AND OLLIE they're so cute to watch together 🥺 (off the top of my head the tiramisu video of them was adorable) Esteban has been glowing in haas (and in Cannes because??? who let him out like that. his beauty is bad for my heart ❤️ jaw dropped when I saw the video of him checking his louboutins? his shoes had red soles and they were very pretty) and ollieeeee is just. an adorable boy. every photo of him just has me going Oliver James Bearman (affectionate) he was very cute in the Monaco charity soccer match ❤️❤️❤️

alpine 🏔️ a team that has me going a little 😬 but not the drivers fault 😔 save them fr 🙌 Pierre is? such an interesting guy, his photodumps are unironically very fun to scroll through (and occasionally very unhinged - cue the shirtless photo of Pierre and jack) his dog also means the world to me (poodles are one of my favourite dogs!) and franco is cute! I haven't seen much of him (started watching f1 this year so I did not witness him in Williams) but I have seen his ads and he's so charming in them 💙 (his scalpers ad was fun to watch)

STAKE SAUBER 💚 their social media content is also everything to me, I love seeing Gabi and Nico interact (both the Italian brainrot and Nico outfit rating videos are sooooo good I've watched them more times than I care to admit) Gabi is such an interesting? guy like I haven't seen him much but he's fun to watch in the Thursday pressers and NICO the pointsmaxxer!! aesthetically he doesn't appeal to me much but I'm happy that he's doing well 💚

Aston Martin!! happy alonso got his first fernoints of the year! a handsome old man (lovingly) he's very fashionable and I can get behind that 🫡 and lance! he's very cutieful whenever I see him outside of f1 (he looked soooo good at the f1 75 event) and I hope his hand is doing better 😔

lastly MERCEDES 🩵 Kimi and George! George has of course been divaing it up (I cackled watching the Monaco post race dinner debacle) and?? he's been looking soo fine recently (he was illegally handsome at Rolland Garros someone please help) and Kimi! admittedly he has been a little absent on my feed as well but he is also very handsome 🩵 I love his hairrrr it's so curly

ok a little incoherent but! yes! love to all the drivers!!! lost the plot a few times but I hope the message got across

- 🐟

hello this was PERFECT. YOU GET IT.

Following your order

McLaren fans always make me sad. Why are we being mean to the drivers :( calling them ugly and making fun of mental health issues totally crosses a line. I get making silly comments and jokes that can be seen as rude, but dedicating your life to hate for either of them is just ridiculous. Who cares if their relationship is PR (and who’s to say that it actually is) I can say with confidence that they certainly wouldn’t like you dragging their teammate?? ANYWAY YES. MCLAREN IS THE TEAM OF FACE CARDS. Lando is such a sweetheart I wish for all his qualms to disappear, and I’m so proud of Osc for being a humble winner and supporting his teammate when he wins and just. the two of them for dealing with a less than fantastic team that’s always putting them in situations ™️

Hello fellow Sainz fan (I say this despite being fans of them all 🥀) The Williams boys hold a special place in my heart. I was so sad to see Carlos leave Ferrari, especially since him and Charles always had fun together, but it’s so nice to see him in a team where he can be happy and he still likes his new teammate. They’re such a fun duo omfg 😭 I’m a huge Albon fan, and I love to see him thriving this year?? I hope that Carlos can warm up to the car soon and perform just as good (he’s been incredible so far)

As for the Ferrari boys. Don’t even get me started. I hate that they’re experiencing the horrors, but I truly love Charles and Lewis as a duo. Hoping for greatness in the future from Ferrari but,, can’t get my hopes up too much atp. Lewis is of course like. the most beautiful man to roam this earth but so is Charles. McLaren is the team of face cards only because Ferrari got disqualified for being too powerful of a duo. (joke, they’re all tied in my heart). On a real note though

yes.

order from oldest to youngest but also from shortest to tallest 😭 I love them they’re all soo handsome. ARTHUR LECLERC ILY.

RedBull… Despite everything I’ve said, Max always will be number one for me 😭 Piastri is a very close second but Max was the whole reason I got into the sport so many years ago. I’m charmed by his ‘idgaf’ personality, and his silly antics. Like how he missed the F1 movie premiere to stream as Franz Hermann… He’s just a guy 🎀 And he’s such a good dad, too. SUCH a girl dad don’t even. And Yuki… Oh how I love Yuki. He’s just got such a unique personality, like a mix between goofy and serious. I miss him and Isack together, sigh.

AND VCARB UEUEUEU THOSE ARE MY BABIES. I won’t lie, Liam wasn’t my favorite at the beginning of the season but he’s so charming and cute and I love how he interacts with Isack you’re so right. The lip syncing videos are my roman empire, they both get so into it. I also appreciate that Yuki still makes occasional appearances. And Isack. Sighs dreamily. He’s gone from underrated to perfectly appreciated. Though I don’t think I could ever fully express my love for him. He’s so full of joy all the time and I just want to kiss him so bad :) Mwah

HAAS. SCREAMS. ESTEBAN OCON HOW I LOVE YOU, proud to say I never hated that man and I’m so happy he’s getting the love he deserves. AND YES HE’S GLOWING IN HAAS, he’s always been handsome but after maintaining the stubble and changing his hair. I’m blushing. Him and Ollie towering over the rest of the team together. Haas is truly the team of giants and I love it. Ollie is such a cutie, I know this season hasn’t been the BEST for him (it hasn’t been bad either, do NOT get me wrong), but I hope he grows into F1 and can come back strong next year. Esteban and Ollie my babies

Alpine. I love Alpine’s drivers, but the team itself always frustrates me. I miss Jack so dearly but also I’m very happy for Franco, finally getting this opportunity in a new team, and I just love Pierre so much. He embodies that fun, playful energy and I know we’d be best friends ❤️ 🌹 🔋 the world is healing. Alpine just needs to get their act together… Trust

And DON’T. GET ME STARTED. ON NICO AND GABI. MY FAVORITE FRIENDSHIP even if it is just PR. But you cannot look at that photo of them celebrating after Spain and tell me their bond is entirely fake. Those are two guys that have bonded. Father and son, even. I love. LOVE. the video of Gabi playing with Nico’s daughter. Gabriel is genuinely one of my favorites of the 2025 grid (I have a soft spot for all the rookies but especially him) because he’s just. so unfiltered and I love him. Never change.

Alonso and Stroll… 😆 I love that they get along so well. Cue the video of Fernando saying he always gets along with his teammates followed by the various spats and rivalries he’s had. That compared to his relationship with Lance? And I just love Lance, he’s so relatable as a fellow introvert. Everyone always calls him stuck up and spoiled when in reality Lance’s biggest crime is having a dad who loves him. Who cares? He’s honestly not doing bad this year, and even if he was, he’s still such a sweet and genuine guy that it doesn’t matter 😒 And Fernando is just so… beloved. I love how he’s still kept his love for the sport after all these years, and I love to see him scoring points. I SO desperately need a fernando podium this year

And Last. My sillies… George is such a drama queen in the best way possible. I love the Max and George beef, and GUHHH I LOVE KIMI!! I love Kimi being friends with his teammate’s worst enemy, and also him bringing all his classmates to the Imola GP. He’s so cute stop 😭 And George. I love him. I won’t lie I used to be an avid disliker of George and then I grew up and realized that it’s NEVER that serious, and now I absolutely adore him.

People always say it’s weird to focus on the drivers instead of the sport itself but why can’t people do both? It’s okay to be endeared by them outside the track. Why else would they record so many videos for youtube promoting them as people? Make it make sense 😞

Let’s all hold hands and be friends in the DRS Zone. Always come chat if you need a break from the negativity of online spaces. This is like those phone cool down videos but for your mind 🌀🌀🌀🌀 you will be relaxed and calm here

[mysteriousxgirls]

Ella sighed, low and tired, as the truth settled in—not unexpected, but still heavy. It was so very Azriel. Calculated. Guarded. Cold not because he lacked warmth, but because he didn’t trust the world not to burn him for feeling it. He didn’t believe in love—not because he was incapable, but because he refused to. He’d buried that part of himself long ago, deep beneath steel and silence. And maybe he was right. Maybe this life didn’t make room for dreams like that. But still—still—she couldn’t stop wanting them. She stepped forward, flicked her cigarette to the pavement, and crushed it beneath her boot. When he turned to her, she met his gaze without flinching, even though the weight of his silence always felt like standing too close to a storm. “Still,” she murmured, voice soft but steady, “I hope you find someone.” She watched him, he didnt react, not outwardly—but she kept going. “I hope she looks at you and really sees you. Sees the man behind all that ink and armor. The man behind the silence. Behind the cold eyes and careful control. The one with the scars he never talks about.” She smiled, just a little. Sad. Warm. “I hope shes someone you look at and immediately know shes your home." Her voice dipped lower, threading through the night like something fragile and true.

“Because you deserve that, Azriel. A real home. Not this place. Not this life. Not Morta Fenice.” She shook her head, quietly, almost to herself. “Your loyalty… it’s wasted here. It’s too precious to bleed out for people who will never deserve it.” There it was—laid bare in her voice. The ache. The grief. The care. She wanted so much for him. Not because he asked for it. But because someone had to. He was too brilliant, too loyal, too good in all the wrong ways—and if he couldn’t dream for himself, then she would dream for him. When he said come, she blinked, confused for a second. The command pulled her back from wherever her mind had drifted, but she didn’t question him. She just followed, steps careful and quiet, slipping into the taxi as it pulled up. She didn’t expect the destination. And when he told the driver hospital, her brows drew together in surprise. “…Wait, what?” she asked, her voice low. “Is this—Az, is this for me?” Her hand hovered near his on the seat between them, but she didn’t quite reach out. “I’m fine. I—I can handle it. You don’t have to…” Her voice faltered. Because maybe he didn’t believe in love. But moments like this—quiet and unspoken—proved that he knew how to care. Even if it killed him to show it.

The silence that stretched out between them wasn’t empty—it was thick. With memory. With smoke. With the ache of something far too old to name. Her voice still echoed in the air like the ghost of a lullaby he’d never been sung. Have you ever thought about it? Family. Love. Words that didn’t belong to men like him. Not really. He stared ahead, unmoving, as the night folded in around them. The city’s low hum faded beneath the memory of something sharper—leather belt dragged from a loop, breath hitching in a small chest, the sound of his own voice trying to stay quiet in the dark. His fingers twitched. Not visibly. Not enough for her to catch. But inside, the tension spiked like wire drawn too tight beneath the skin. That question—it hurt. Not because it was cruel. But because it was impossible. “…No,” he said finally, the word barely more than breath, scraped from somewhere deep and sealed. “I don’t think like that.” Not couldn’t. Don’t. A choice, carved in stone.

He let the silence return, let it pull tight like a noose around the moment. Because if he opened his mouth again—if he said what tried to rise, what flickered like the echo of a childhood dream long since burned to ash—it would unravel everything. And Azriel didn’t come undone. Instead, he tilted his head back slightly, eyes fixed on the sky as if it might give him permission to speak without bleeding. The stars didn’t blink. Didn’t care. Neither did he. Then, finally, he turned to look at her. That unreadable stare—dark, cold, calculating. “I don't believe in love.” He didn’t touch her. Didn’t reach. Just held the air between them like a barricade. His control didn’t crack—but it hummed. Like something dangerous pacing just beneath the surface. "Come" he simply announced, taking one last drag before flicking the cigarette to the floor. He then walked off and away from the house before ordering a taxi to their location. Once it had arrived, he ordered it to head off to the hospital.

[ssatorussuguru]

ofc!! and yes i can tell-- DC is so horrible to steph (and its female characters in general) but you genuinely write her with such care

thank you so much for the list and if it really isn' a bother, i would def appreciate one for tim as well 😊

first off i am so sorry for the delay, my school year just ended so things have been hectic!! to make up for it i added a ton of fics here i hope u enjoy <3

previous lists here! steph dick pt. 1 dick pt. 2 tim+dick

a nest torn empty \ yesteryears \ robin's don't make great roommates - all helena and tim centric!! i am a sucker for these two being siblings

not within this restless heart - Tim's sleeping schedule leaves things to be desired. Sometimes, Damian's does too. Miraculously, this doesn't cause nearly as many issues as one would think.

off-grid - In which Tim and Damian go on an impromptu camping trip.

and in that moment - Time keeps slipping away from Tim like sand. All he has are flashes of events that he can barley grab on to. Even worse his family is acting strange and he can't keep it together long enough to ask them what's going on.

the return - Red Robin 11 and 12, from Dick’s POV. Tim comes home.

a leap of faith - "Oh. Right. He’d been pushed off the building."

such trouble - "Tim’s vitals are displayed in heartbreaking clarity on the screen. They aren’t horrible, Tim thinks. “Goddamn it,” Dick mumbles."

miles and miles (in their shoes) - Tim and Damian switch bodies, the two of them realize exactly why the other does the things they do.

the fire eats fire (and the fire's in you) - Tim just happens to be a very large, fire-breathing lizard. He manages, until he doesn't.

books and pens - After the flood, there are galas. And Bruce befriends a two-year-old Tim Drake at one of them.

experimentation - Tim watches his mom get ready to go out, then takes his own turn at it.

you long for a feeling you'll never get back - In a family made of up people unused to having such a big family, sometimes you get lost in the noise. And Tim has always been taught to be the child that was seen, not heard.

way down, hadestown - In which Damian's dead and Tim has lost one too many people to accept that.

between two urns - Christmas Eve may not be the best time for a funeral, but at least Tim won't have to deal with a lot of people. His parents are dead, and he's alone, and his Uber driver didn't show. Mr. Wayne did.

detachment - Bruce just wants all his sons home for the holidays. Tim thinks something more sinister may be at work.

i'd fly far away from here - “Tim, you’re in a strange city you don’t live in, staying with a person your dad barely knows. He’s probably worried sick.”

i can (hopefully) do this all night - Or the one where their patrol night goes to shit and Tim has a really stubborn little brother that apparently wants to die again just because he's stubborn as fuck. Sucks for Damian, though, because Tim is used to doing the exact opposite of what Damian wants just to spite him. Like a good big brother.

home decor - Bruce is helping Duke remodel his bedroom, but Tim's bedroom is one good clean away from looking ready to host a new guest.

[niky44]

The story of: Brocedes

But what it was to really be someone's "everything but a lover?"

The two of them met in 1998 during a karting race in Italy. Nico Rosberg, the son of former F1 world champion Keke Rosberg, the nepo baby and the star of Italian karting. On the other hand there was Lewis Hamilton, coming from a poor English family who was often bullied for his skin colour.

On the last lap of the race Lewis has passed Nico and claimed the victory, but also impressed Keke, who later on came up to him with an idea of creating team just for him and Nico.

He accepted.

They became friends immediately. Travelling and destroying hotel rooms together during their 'wrestling' fights, competing with one another for pizza, eating frosties together or convincing their team manager to buy them ice cream in the middle of the night.

Once Nico's family even took Lewis with them on a vacation to Greece. The other night then they were laying on a yacht under the stars, dreaming of making it to Formula 1 together, of racing along side each other in one of the top teams and fighting for wins.

The very much thing that destroyed them.

In 2007 they both made it to F1 and in 2008 they celebrate Nico's first podium together on the top steps. Then in 2013 Lewis joins Mercedes and they're dream of becoming teammates comes true.

They promise each other that whatever will happen on the race track won't transfer into real life.

In 2014 goes on and wins the championship, while Nico has to watch him lift the P1 trophy like he had to for the past eighteen years.

Although he's tried so many different ways to beat him that season, like when he switched to banned - more aggressive - engine mode during the Bahrain Grand Prix to overtake Lewis. Which worked, until it didn't when Lewis pulled the same move on him couple of races later.

Mercedes then has completely forbidden them from switching the modes at all.

Still Nico has lost and he was getting more and more frustrated, determined not to come second to Lewis the following season.

At the beginning of the 2015 season the lines between friendship and rivalry started getting more and more blury.

The 2015 season turned out to be another failed attempt for Nico and another successfully landed championship for Lewis. The only thing that has really progressed that season was their rivalry, which was growing far behind healthy.

"The silver war"

2016 was now or never for Nico Rosberg.

He was willing to do whatever it takes to beat his best friend for once and for good. But could they really be referred as best friends anymore or were they just rivals?

They were after each other's throats like never before the entire season. Backing one another into traffic to ruin their flying lap, intense wheel wheel fights in which they've been escaping collisions only by couple of inches, keeping the entire Mercedes garage on their toes.

However most importantly there were mind games...lots of mind games indeed.

When talking to the media Nico often said that Lewis sometimes has these moments when he loses motivation and his performance slips up and because he knows him for such a long time he also knows where to pull strings to maximise them.

Lewis fired back with mentioning that Nico, in fact, doesn't have enough talent and so must rely on good strategy from the team, which makes him easy to beat.

They simply were using all those years of friendship against each other for a name in the history books Formula 1.

The hatered and rivalry got so intense that they've started accusing each other's mechanics of snitching, therefore the team had to build a wall between their garages to make them stop.

Or in cool down rooms after each race, Nico often tried to avoid any interactions with Lewis, so he'd always spoke to other drivers in different languages. Once he even started speaking Italian to Daniel Riccardo (he doesn't speak Italian).

Even the legend of F1, Niki Lauda himself, tried to parent trap them in his house, but as soon as they saw each other they turned on their heels and left.

...yet the two Mercedes drivers could barely bring themselves to look at each other, let alone shake each other's hands

It all peaked in Barcelona 2016. When on the first lap of the race Toto Wolf's biggest nightmare happened - they collided with each other, taking one another out of the race.

The race was over for them as much as their friendship was.

"Well we're not friends" ~ Lewis, post race interview

"We're friends, we've always been friends, but you know, friends is a big word" ~ Nico Rosberg

After that the rivalry everyone thought couldn't get worse got worse.

Nico once mentioned that 2016 championship fight has almost literally killed him.

Fortunately the long awaited season's finale in Abu Dhabi was here. Nico and Lewis were sitting at the pre-race press conference, the journalists asking them tons and tons of questions, except that this time they were mostly about one specific thing - their childhood together.

While Lewis was reminiscing about those days of their silly competition and laughs, he even said that the karting days were one of the best days of his career. He finished with words how he's excited to race against Nico in the upcoming season.

Nico next to him, on the other hand, was holding back tears. Not only that the only food he was able to eat for the entire week were frosties...the same food they used to obsess over together when they were kids. But also this was his last ever Formula 1 race, however he didn't tell anyone yet.

And so after eighteen years of always coming second...Nico Rosberg has won the 2016 Formula 1 World Championship.

~

Years and years after 2016 they still weren't able to even say each other's name, often refering to each other as "the other guy" or "my former teammate".

Although nowadays Nico praises Lewis on Sky sports at any given chance, Lewis barely ever mentions him.

Except for the infamous interview when he was asked "Are you a better driver now than your were in 2016?"

"Yes and teammate"

[tryandbehappy]

I agree June didn't seem to care who she hurt she really did become like Gilead but to make look like she was the good guy I still remember after she killed Fred and went back home she looked like a psychopath I was thinking she was going to turn evil and she kind of did only the writers treated that like a good thing. Looking back I think season 2 was the last good season it surprises me to say that though because I did enjoy some aspects of the later seasons but you could tell something had changed.

I agree about June. She has shown psychopathic behavior more than once, and the most recent was with Commander Bell. She killed him brutally, looked him in the eye as he died in agony and it felt like she was enjoying it. Yes, he was a villain, but that’s still disturbing behavior. Nick, on the other hand, never acted like that. He’s consistently less prone to aggression. I’ve often thought about what he must’ve done offscreen, and I’m sure he actively avoided routines where he’d have to torture or harm people. That’s why he chose to become an Eye so he could spy, not act violently. He stayed a driver, kept his head down, avoided opposition work because he didn’t want to be involved in brutality.

We saw that in Season 1. Yes, bad things happened around him. Yes, he turned a blind eye and that’s what makes him morally gray. But the reason he didn’t run is, I think, very well explained in the show: there was nowhere to go, no one to trust, and every side felt like the enemy. He wasn’t a Handmaid he couldn’t just escape to Canada and be welcomed. We saw this clearly in how everyone hated him just for having been in Gilead—like when Luke attacked him screaming “You’re all monsters! Get out!” And once he became a Commander, he was officially a war criminal. Plus, if he tried to escape, it would be desertion—he knew that too. He was trapped. And the only real way out would’ve been with June.

Season 2 was golden. I remember how obsessed we were with each episode—I made edits after every one, because there was so much Nick/June content. And in the end, it all led to her love confession and him spending the whole night guarding Fred so she and Nicole could escape. 💔😭 It was beautiful.

I also want to say Season 4 felt like a dream come true. The bridge scene, episodes 9 and 10—they’re absolutely my favorites in terms of Osblaine. I really loved them, even up to episode 8 this season!!! It wasn’t always smooth or logical, but still—my God, the chemistry, the moments. Ships like that barely exist anymore. 🥲

They tried to ruin them, but it didn’t work. Not for me, at least. Their scenes in Season 6 were so stunning, almost overwhelming in their beauty. (Except for the horrible eps 9 and 10)

And now… it’s over and I don’t even know if I’ll ever make another video again. Ugh

[fameandfiction]

IMAGINE PART I: “Lap of Luxury” — Reneé Rapp x Reader

— Everyone-knows-but-us energy.

[Saturday night. 12:17 AM. Parking lot, downtown L.A.]

The car is packed.

The kind of packed where seatbelts are optional and someone’s leg is in someone else’s armpit, and nobody really knows whose vape that is anymore.

You’re the last one out of the club, trailing behind after running back in to close out your tab. Everyone else is already stuffed into the Uber XL, the doors open, waiting.

"Hey—" the driver calls. "We good? I’ve got another pickup in fifteen."

You glance around.

Driver seat: taken. Passenger seat: taken. Back row? Maxed out. Middle row? Tightly squished—Kylie's half asleep on Dior's shoulder, and Auli'i's legs are practically folded like origami.

You turn to Reneé. She's lounging in the far corner, face flushed from dancing, hair curled like it has its own gravity.

She catches your expression.

“I’m not getting out,” she says flatly.

You blink. “What?”

“I called middle row.” She pats her lap. “And the only space left is right here, baby.”

Your jaw drops. “I—no. I’ll call another car. It’s fine—”

“No, it’s not,” Kylie mumbles from beside her. “Just sit on her. Be normal.”

You hesitate.

And then Reneé raises an eyebrow. “What, scared of a little lap time?”

The challenge in her tone does something to your pulse.

You groan, roll your eyes for show, and slide in.

Your thighs land across hers, and suddenly you're too aware of everything—her warmth, the way her hands instinctively find your waist to steady you, how your back is to her chest and her breath brushes the back of your neck.

The doors close. The car starts moving.

Your heart? Absolutely not doing its job properly.

“Comfy?” she murmurs into your ear.

You don’t answer.

You can’t.

Because “comfy” is the understatement of the century. You're practically curled into her, like a human armrest, like you belong there.

And she’s not helping.

Her hands rest gently on your hips, fingers twitching every so often when the car hits a bump. Her voice is low and quiet when she says something to Mia across the aisle, and you feel the vibration of it in your spine.

It’s stupid. So stupid.

You’ve slept in the same bed as her before. Changed in front of her. Held her hand in crowded places and curled up beside her during horror movies.

But somehow this?

This feels more dangerous.

Maybe because her hand drifts just a little too high.

Maybe because she squeezes your waist a little when you shift.

Maybe because you can feel her heartbeat—fast, like yours.

You lean forward a little, trying to create distance.

“You good?” she whispers, voice low.

“Yeah,” you mumble, even though your mouth is dry.

“You’re not breathing.”

You scoff. “I am. You’re just—”

“What?”

You twist around, face to face now. “You’re very warm.”

Her eyes flicker to your lips. “So are you.”

The car hits a red light. The cabin glows amber. The music is low. You can hear someone snoring softly, maybe Dior or maybe Auli'i.

And Reneé doesn’t look away.

“You know…” she says slowly, “if we were in high school, I would’ve made you sit on my lap every chance I got.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You mean like theatre kids do?”

She smiles, but it’s soft. “No. Like people who are in love and too scared to say it do.”

Your breath catches.

You want to say something, anything. But your throat closes up.

So instead, you lean back slightly—just enough to rest your head against her shoulder.

“I’m still scared,” you whisper.

“I’m not,” she says, wrapping her arms around you tighter.

And neither of you say anything else.

Because maybe love looks like silence sometimes. Like stolen moments in the back of a crowded car. Like pretending your pulse isn't echoing in your ears because you're afraid she'll hear it. Like lap sitting that doesn’t feel temporary anymore.

Like maybe, if you both stay perfectly still, the ride won’t end.

[purefandomonium]

Been thinking about this again so I sat down and revised it! Original version I wrote is here.

I'm pretty happy with the end result. I'll give it a day or two before I come back to it, and if I'm still feeling good about it, I'll throw it up on AO3. (I'll have to at some point, otherwise I'll never finish it lol. Damn perfectionist's curse.)

So far I've written scared shitless but still polite Takumi and now staring like a lovestruck schoolgirl Takumi. But you can't blame me for the latter because come on. We all know Takumi wasn't focused on the road at all and can you blame him? Anyway-

Focus

The inside of the FC was much different than the outside. Outside it was cool—though never cold—precise, and powerful in a muted way that you wouldn't notice unless you were fending off its harsh glow as it snarled at your bumper; likewise, keeping pace with the legendary comet as it rocketed down the mountain left a heavy taste of danger in the air. The car was much like its driver in the sense that you'd have to be pretty close to see its true form, and even then you'd have to be able to withstand the brilliant shimmer it exuded. Once your eyes adjusted, however, the gravitational pull Ryosuke exuded would keep you close like a firm embrace.

Inside the car it was warm, comforting, and oddly familiar despite this being the first and only time he'd ever ridden shotgun in Ryosuke's prized FC. Which begged the question: where was this odd sense of familiarity and warmth coming from? The only car he truly knew was his own Eight-Six. So if it wasn't the car, then that meant-

"Did you get that, Fujiwara?"

Takumi blinked and, despite having been staring for—how much time had passed, exactly? Despite staring right at the man the entire time he spoke, he found his mind drawing a blank as to what exactly his mentor had been saying. Still, a response was expected.

"…Yes." It was much too meek and his brain screamed at him for sounding like such a spaced out dumbass. He braced for Ryosuke's sure-to-come reprimand at his poorly hidden distraction.

Instead, "Good. Now onto the more difficult part of the course. These upcoming hairpins are no easy feat, and your opponent is a professional." He readjusted his grip on the wheel and shifter before sending the FC around the first hairpin, engine whining as his he held her steady. He cleared it in no time and was already angling the car for the next one. He pursed his lips as considered the line their opponent would be most likely to take, imagining the various outcomes in his mind's eye. An absent hum escaped him.

Takumi knew he should be paying close attention to the words and line he was being shown, this was important stuff and Project D needed to win this race. But Ryosuke's actions were just too distracting. The way he'd shifted gears and glided around the first hairpin made him feel like they were soaring. It was so natural, the way he adjusted his line, the way the FC bent to his will, the way the very road itself seemed to shift beneath them, completely at his mercy. The second hairpin was no different, and he swallowed the dryness in his throat at the way Ryosuke remained perfectly composed the entire time. He'd gone quiet, likely doing some mental analysis, yet his expression was the picture of calm. A small hum was the only indication that something was running through his mind.

Takumi couldn't help but wonder if he was always this smooth and collected when he drove his Eight-Six. Would he ever be this good?

"Don't be surprised if your opponent pulls something here," Ryosuke said suddenly, hitting the final hairpin, oblivious to Takumi's own oblivion. "It's a prime opportunity to make a move, especially since the remainder of the course from here on out becomes an uphill." He'd have to run a couple simulations to be certain, but the third or fourth hairpin seemed the most favorable to any attempts at an overtake. "If he passes you, you'll have to bide your time until you're traveling back downhill again." He shifted gears and sent the FC purring around the next corner.

Takumi felt his head dip down once against the smooth push and pull of the FC as it danced about, tires shrieking in the background. Even that held a sort of elegance to it. It seemed everything Ryosuke did was graceful and easy. His shifts were so effortless Takumi had to strain just to notice them. His handling of the FC was flawless; a perfected technique that was so beautiful to watch it might as well be a dream. And the entire time, Ryosuke exuded an air of relaxed confidence, his soft face free of any taut muscles that would suggest he was nervous about tonight's race.

Dark locks swayed as Ryosuke sent the FC around the final few corners before easing it to a stop at the turnaround point. He turned to his passenger—mostly to be sure he was still listening—but the words caught in his throat at the way Fujiwara's eyes shone with awe and something more, mouth slightly agape as he stared. A rare bout of shyness flooded his nerves at being the center of such rapt attention. He cleared his throat and attempted to keep the blush at bay, glancing at the side mirror for lack of something better. His heart thudded despite him willing it to settle down.

In an instant, Takumi realized he was gawking and blinked. He refocused his eyes on the road ahead and coughed out an awkward almost-apology. It took more force than he would've liked to keep his focus on anything but Ryosuke. His mind's eye, however, was all too happy to replay the scene on repeat. From the way Rysosuke maneuvered the FC, to his calming voice in the background, playing like some kind of soothing static. Every graceful motion was locked into his memory and as he took in the empty stretch of pavement before them, he realized it felt just as unfamiliar as yesterday. His cheeks felt hot.

An uncomfortable silence hung between them as both pondered how much the other had seen in the brief seconds their eyes had met. Ryosuke, ever cool and collected and not currently blushing madly, was the first to recover.

"I know this is a lot of pressure on you," he began, watching his ace from the corner of his eye, "but just do what you always do and you'll be fine. Trust your instincts and be on the lookout. OK?" He hoped Fujiwara couldn't hear the way his heart thumped against his ribs. His voice sounded even enough to his own ears, but there was no telling what the surprisingly observant downhiller would notice.

Takumi already knew that, he always trusted his instincts in a race. They hadn't let him down yet, which was what prompted him to even consider his next question. "I… um…" This was stupid. This was so incredibly stupid. Project D's most important battle yet was upon them, and here he was looking to do something so utterly idiotic-

"Yes?" His brow furrowed at Fujiwara's sudden apprehension. Which was odd, seeing as how he'd been fine just moments ago, albeit more than a little flustered. His heart rate gradually fell as the first inklings of worry seeped into his chest. He watched several different indecipherable emotions flicker through Fujiwara's eyes before they turned away.

Takumi's head drooped, bangs falling over his face. What the hell was he even thinking? Was he turning into Itsuki or something? This was so dumb and selfish-

"I, uh, I know this race is really important and all…" He internally cursed. Why was he like this? Why couldn't he just… just… be normal? He sucked in a breath and met Ryosuke's gaze to to apologize for wasting time-

"I was wondering if maybe you'd show me how you'd race this course." Fuck.

Ryosuke blinked, momentarily stunned by the request. That brief pause seemed to be all it took to crush Fujiwara's sudden resolve to dust. He watched self-conscious fear take hold on the younger's features as words began tumbling out.

"I'm sorry. That's a dumb question. This race is too important and I need to focus on my own lines and-"

"It's good to observe other racers' styles, you know," he said, cutting off the nervous rambling. "You can pick up all sorts of things by watching others." The faintest smile pulled at his lips when the tension radiating off his passenger dissipated like mist. "Besides, I'm honestly flattered you're so curious."

Takumi's eyes widened, unable to hide his surprise. "Wait… Seriously? Are you sure you don't mind?" Ryosuke wasn't annoyed at him for this?

He chuckled. "Not at all. But I must warn you: I won't be taking it easy. I don't ever give a race anything less than my best." He'd give it 110% if it meant Fujiwara would look at him with that star struck expression once more. It was so different from the all the other times someone had gazed at him like that. He was no stranger to such attention, but when it was coming from Fujiwara it made something warm blossom in his heart.

Takumi couldn't hold back his smile. A front row seat to watch Ryosuke tear down the mountain full throttle like the comet he was? He hoped his cheeks weren't turning red again. "I'm ready," he said, giddiness slipping through his attempted calm. He didn't think he'd ever figure out Ryosuke's secret to staying so damn put together. But maybe he didn't have to. There was only one Ryosuke Takahashi, after all, and he was currently about to show him his true skills.

A simple nod was all the response Ryosuke gave before the FC sped off in a blur, darting back around the mountain in a blinding flash of white.

If Takumi had been blushing that bad when Ryousuke handed him his cell number, I sincerely want to know what it was like for Takumi to ride with him in the FC before the Honda EK9 race

The amount of disbelief i have about Takumi being able to focus on the line Ryousuke took on that course, nevermind what he was saying, is more than I have about the random cat in the road