#Lewis' ask box management

[cafeleningrad]

have you watched Somerton's Utena review?

Frankly no, and I don't plan to. I've never heard of his name or internet presence before. Now that the video that apparently shook YT dropped, I now know that his only original thought is misogyny. The interesting thing about interpretations and lenses are that different readings may apply, and together they create a caleidoscopic picture. However for every work there're interpretations which can definitely not apply because it contradicts the entire text. (You can definitely say that Anthy is a passive, hard-to-read character but you'd be amiss to deny her any agency as the entire plot works towards her making a groundbreaking decision.)

What should I gain from someone who can't write on his own and doesn't like women, engaging with a text critically dissecting patriarchy and sexism, which is layered in symbolism as well as counting on the viewer to deal with the ambiguity of conflicting desires and emotions, deception by others and oneself ?

Maybe it will be satisfying to have a "gotcha, I get the text, and you definitely don't" moment. Maybe we do need a counterargument to persuade his audience to not believe in his bad takes. But also hate watching, writing long comments creates engagement earns traction by the YT algorythm - by which the YT algorithm doesn't discriminate in quality. Even negative engagement is by YT's system of mass attention a reward. And frankly, there're so many good Utena metas out there, even really great video essay by Noralities, Zarinthel, clear & sweet. (Warning, all of them contain spoilers!)

#Lewis' ask box management #Revolutionary Girl Utena #maybe I'm getting old but I believe more in constructive action by supporting the things that create merit.

[viennakarma]

My dearest friend and enemy

Part 1 | Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: You and Fernando always dreamed of the day you'd get into Formula 1. Unfortunately, the competition, the pride and the stubborness, get in the way of a beautiful friendship.

Word count: 7.8k

Tags: female!reader, driver reader, coming of age, ups and downs of a friendship, brocedes coded, very very angsty, cursing, anger, fights, overuse of flavio briatore as a plot device, lots of low blows, sprinkles of romance, kissing, making out, happy ending, not beta read

Relationship: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Note: Someone requested this, with this very detailed request, and it has consumed my every thought for the past week or two. I had to tweak some things from the request here and there, hope it's ok. It's heavily inspired by brocedes. Obviously we don't have all the facts with whatever happened to Lewis and Nico, but I have my own theories, that I tossed around this story here and there. (There is a lot of info that is wrong or inaccurate, I did this on purpose to fit my narrative, if you catch them, please ignore)

I'm sorry if it feels rushed, this was getting way too long and I just wanted to follow my heart. Feedback and opinions are appreciated xx

[If you have never listened to Tamino, or never heard this song, please do a favor to your brain and heart, and listen!]

Find me on Twitter!

PART 2 (END)

You wouldn’t cry. You wouldn’t cry.

You repeated those words to yourself as you stared at your fucked up kart, it wasn’t even starting. You didn’t have any more money to repair it, and if you didn’t, then you wouldn’t be able to keep going in the competition.

“Hey, are you alright kid?” Someone stopped you, and your tears fell down. You used the sleeve of your overalls to wipe your face.

“I won’t make it to the final round of the competition,” you pointed to your kart.

The boy knelt down beside you, taking a look at your kart. It was the first time you really looked at him. He was a bit older than you, probably two or three years, since you had seen him in the next category, and you knew he was one of the best from what you could see.

He walked away suddenly, but came back a minute later with a tool box. He knelt down and started tinkering with your kart.

“What- what are you doing?” You asked crouching beside him. He only hummed, seemingly concentrating on his work.

After a few minutes of silence, he asked you to test to see if it would work, and you started your kart, and it did work.

“Oh my god!” You smiled, leaving the kart, “how- how much does it cost?”

“Don’t worry, I wanted to help,” he shrugged, putting back his tools.

“Are you sure?” You asked again.

“Yes,” he stood up, and as his eyes found yours, shining under the sunlight, you smiled at each other.

“Thank you so much!” You said, offering a hand for him to shake.

“I’m Fernando,” he said, and as you said your name back, he smiled a little shyly and just said, “I know.”

“You know?” You whispered.

“Yeah. I’ve seen you in your kart. You’re good.”

You bashed under his praise, cheeks warming and stomach full of butterflies.

From then on, you and Fernando became friends, always meeting up in karting competitions, despite being usually in different categories, since he was a bit older than you. But you’d always be seen together on those occasions, or either of you on the stands, cheering for the other. Your parents knew you were close friends, and after a while, your parents would take turns at taking you two for competitions, usually going together.

You met again when you got to the Spanish Junior Championship, it was your first time at that competition and it would be Fernando’s third. Your rivalry was mostly playful in that competition, you were still the best of friends, even when you got close to his score, you still managed to leave the rivalry on the track. When it ended and you stared up at Fernando from the second place podium, you felt proud of him, happy even. You understood that he had more experience than you, winning that competition three times in a row, and you always would have next year to catch up to him.

That day when he took your hand to walk back to his dad, he held your hand tight. And when they dropped you off at home, you winked at him.

“I’ll catch you next year.” You walked to the door hearing him and José Luis laughing back in the car.

You didn’t manage to catch him next year. Fernando reached new heights as he moved up to world championships. Life took you apart, and without your greatest opponent in the championship, you took it home for three years in a row.

The next few years, you and Fernando were mostly apart. The distance was eating you thin, even when you two managed to talk for a couple of hours on the phone, or whenever he sent you letters talking about his biggest achievements. You still saw each other over summer and winter, which was what mostly kept your bond strong. You also managed to kart for fun sometimes, or go for ice cream, or just sit on the porch of your house, talking about life. You two always shared an ice cream on your birthdays, a tradition that was born ever since you were 13, and you and Fernando gathered together every coin you had to be able to buy one ice cream cone that you happily shared sitting on a sidewalk.

“We’ll make it to Formula 1 one day, Nena.”

You laughed. Despite being the greatest dream of them all, by that time, it had been twenty years since the last woman had been in a Formula 1 car, really competing. You wanted to, so bad, but you didn’t want to get any hope for it to be crushed later on.

“You, most likely, Nano. You’re brilliant, I’m sure you’re going to be a world champion one day,” you said, playful, “just don’t forget us peasants when you’re rich and famous.”

“You have too much faith in me, Nena,” he shook his head.

“No, I just know stuff. When you get your world championship, I hope you will hear my voice in your head telling you I told you so.”

He laughed it off.

Fernando extended you a bottle of cheap wine, it was his way of celebrating your 18th birthday, now you were of age. The wine warmed you up, leaving a pretty stain in both of your lips. 

“What about that girl you liked? Are you dating her yet?” You asked to break the silence.

“No…” he shrugged then took the bottle from you to take a chug straight from it, “she’s not for me.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, even though he didn’t look particularly unhappy about it.

“Don’t be. It was just a silly crush,” his lips turned down, “The girls don’t find me attractive enough,” he shook his head, feeling shy for having this conversation with you, “and I don’t know, I’ve always been a little shy, I guess. I don’t have much experience in romance. None, if I’m being honest.”

“None?!” You sounded shocked at his lack of romance. He just shook his head. 

At eighteen you had your fair share of teen love, having crushes here and there, sometimes even sharing kisses under the bleachers at school. Fernando was your best friend and you knew him like no one, and you could see that he was lonely and feeling embarrassed, up until that point, his life had been school, karting and work to fund his karting.

“Would you like to?” You asked, suddenly turning to him after drinking a sip of courage from the wine bottle.

“Like to what?” He frowned.

“To be kissed?” You whispered, and looked behind you, inside your house, where your parents were inside.

Your heart raced faster than you ever did, his pretty eyes looking for your face, trying to find any sign of joking, like you were just being silly. But you were serious, looking at his face intently. You were about to back pedal when he nodded softly.

“What-” his voice failed, and he gulped nervously, “what should I do?”

“Just follow my lead, and you will feel what to do,” you said, extending a hand and holding his face, “close your eyes.”

He did, and you just closed the distance quietly, but when you had barely touched his lips with yours, he bursted out laughing, leaning back. You also laughed at the strangeness of the situation.

“It’s ok, we don’t have to, Nano” you recovered, but he shook his head, giggling.

“No, sorry, sorry! You’re my favorite person, I trust you,” he sighed, closing his eyes again.

You held his face, trying to get closer again, and this time he let you. With a soft press, you pecked his lips for a couple of seconds. You felt butterflies in your stomach, and they pushed you to push into his lips, mouth opening a little and him following your lead. One of his hands found your face, and you deepened the kiss. He was inexperienced but surprisingly patient, letting you lead and slowly picking your pace and moves. Your kiss turned into an almost make out session, lasting long minutes, with Fernando getting the hang of it with every passing second. When you parted, his cheeks and lips were red, and you two smiled nervously at each other.

“Was that ok?” You asked, suddenly insecure.

“More than ok,” he whispered back, “I think we-”

A loud noise from inside your house made you two jump away from each other, and a second later, your mom’s voice boomed through the door, reminding you of your curfew, and checking your watch, you noticed it was almost eleven.

“Sorry, Nano. I have to go,” you stood up and he followed you.

“See you Saturday to go karting?” He asked just to confirm the plans you had made earlier.

“See you,” you waved awkwardly before sprinting inside your house.

Skipping to your room, you locked the door behind you and pressed a hand to your lips, still warm from kissing your best friend. Going to your window, you pulled on the curtains and watched through the gap as Fernando left, calmly walking down the street.

You never talked about it. And when you met again at the end of the week, none of you mentioned the kiss, things quickly went back to normal as you two pretended it never happened. Over a few months, your heart never let you forget about the kiss you shared with your best friend, and whenever you laid in bed to sleep, your mind would wander back to that specific night. You spent months building up the courage to confess you had feelings for him, and you wanted to be more than friends. Your choice was to tell him on his birthday, when you usually would go for a birthday ice cream.

“I need to tell you something-” You said at the same time he muttered, “Can I tell you something?”

“Go ahead,” he said, gesturing to you, but at that point, your bravery quickly faded.

“No, you first. You’re the birthday boy!”

“Uh, I’m dating a girl. I’m going to introduce her to you and my family at the birthday party tonight.”

That moment, with a smile frozen on your face, a small part of you was ripped forever. The excitement and fear of a young love turned into stone at the pit of your stomach. To this day, you don’t know how you managed to not burst into tears that very moment. Instead, you kept smiling, asking Fernando for more details so he could get distracted and not notice the pain in your eyes.

Managing to bury what you decided to call a silly teen infatuation after a few months, your friendship with Fernando became even stronger everyday that passed. 

You made it to the international and European competitions, winning the former twice in a row, and the latter once. You were in the Euro Open when Fernando made it to Formula 1.

He told you personally, when he signed with Minardi, and you were so happy you jumped on his arms, hugging him tight and screaming.

“I told you! I told you!” You shouted, as he carried your feet from the floor, “My best friend is in Formula 1! Oh my god, Nano!” You let go of him, your smile barely fitting your face, “I’m gonna be insufferable! I’m claiming bragging rights right now!”

He only laughed at your happy ramble.

You balanced your competitions with working double shifts for almost two months, so you could afford to go to the Spanish Grand Prix the year of his Formula One debut. He didn’t win anything that year, but he still had your immense support every step of the way. When waves of self doubt came and left him shaken, you’d hug him and whisper softly how he was just a rookie, how he would still have time to prove himself.

“You’re gonna be one of the best there is, Nano.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

He also would show you support whenever your schedule at the Euro Open didn’t coincide with his at Formula 1. It was one of the best feelings to get to the podium and see your best friend as you held the trophy. When you finally found him after the podium, he hugged you for a moment, commenting on his favorite moments from your race. As you stood, he gestured to someone, and a beautiful girl came closer.

“Nena, this is my girlfriend, Lucia,” he pointed. Your smile froze for a second. Another one, since the girl from last year couldn’t handle the distance of dating someone who was constantly traveling the world.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” You shook her hand, suddenly self conscious of your frizzy hair and sweat damp overalls. She was so pretty. So much prettier than you. 

Lucia was pretty and kind, a little bit clingy, but she treated you very well, and wasn’t jealous of your friendship with Fernando, different from the last one. All your flings never went as far as becoming boyfriend or girlfriend, so you decided to focus more on racing and trying to make a name for yourself.

“Fernando,” you called one of the rare days you two were both free and could laze around, this time, sitting on the ground of the garden, staring at the clear sky and sharing a pint of ice cream.

“Hm?”

“I talked to your dad, and you’re going to be free the day of the last race of the Euro Open, so I was wondering if you will come to see me become the champion?” You turned to him, a smile adorning your face.

“Confident, are you?” He teased your certainty that you would win the competition.

“Not confident, just focused,” you corrected him, and started explaining the date of the race, but as you talked, his smile quickly faded and you stopped.

“I’m sorry, Nena. It’s Lucia’s graduation that day, I can’t miss it.”

You swallowed, thinking it would matter so much to you that he’d be there, but at the same time, you didn’t want to be selfish or make it seem like you’re competing with the girl he loved. You tried to disguise the disappointment in your face, but he noticed. At that point he knew you for half of your lives, he knew very well when you tried to mask your sadness. And unfortunately, he had been on the receiving end of that sad face one too many times.

“Oh,” you nodded, “Don’t worry, I totally understand.”

Fernando pressed his lips thin, your meek voice doing nothing to soothe the squeezing in his heart.

The day you won the Euro Open, you could barely contain your happiness as you stood on the podium, showing your trophy to your parents, who were watching you all emotional. As the podium ceremony finished, you walked back to your parents, your mom wiping her tears and your dad the happiest. Then, you finally noticed Fernando was with them.

“Nano!” You hugged him.

“Congratulations, champion!” He said. Your heart was so full you thought it would explode, so all you managed to say were two words.

“You came.”

“You called.”

Later you found out through your mom, who found out through Fernando’s mom, who found out from Fernando’s dad, that Fernando and Lucia had broken up. They said it was because of the distance and the relationship didn’t last more than seven months. You couldn’t blame her, you as his best friend barely saw him that year either.

You became a reserve driver for Renault in 2003, meeting Flavio Briatore yourself after you won the Formula 3000 two years in a row. You knew that, by that time, Fernando had ties with Flavio, but the man assured you it had nothing to do with Fernando, and everything to do with you being extremely talented.

Still, that same week you found Fernando, to inquire if he had anything to do with Flavio’s invitation, but he assured you that you’d achieved that with your own merit. The unexpected chance to race came when by the end of the following year, Fernando’s teammate was fired by the end of the season. So you had to replace him for the remaining three races of the season, the team fighting for P2 in the constructors championship. The first two races you went alright placing P7 and P5, but still not where you wanted to place.

“Hey, you’re doing great, Nena,” Fernando told you right before the race started. He knew you were upset, frustration practically emanating from your body.

“Not as great as I can do,” you shook your head.

“Just do your best, ignore everything else.”

You nodded, before closing your overalls and gettin ready to get in the car. That race, you and Fernando managed to race just like in your karting days, with a silent partnership never seen before coming from Fernando. You placed a 2-3 podium, him ahead of you.

When you got out of the car, you jumped straight into his arms, screaming and celebrating. Your first ever podium in Formula 1.

During post race interviews you accidentally let out to the media that you and Fernando were childhood best friends, which they took as a personal reason to go digging into your lives.

Next season, Flavio signed you with the team. But before anything, he sat you down for a talk. He explained how Fernando would be top priority this year, you were a rookie, and they would offer you all the support but you had to help Fernando first.

“You will gain experience, work together with your best friend, and we can achieve great things this year. And depending on how good of a performance you show this year, next year you will be able to race for the championship, yes?” Flavio explained.

And you were fine with that, Fernando would be the main priority while you took the year to get used to the car, to being in an entirely new category, while helping your best friend reach his peak. It was the dream, finally. It was the thing both of you had daydreamed together, nothing could get in the way of that.

So you did just that. You kept your head down, fighting fiercely against your rivals, and keeping yourself out of the way whenever you and Fernando were close in a race. Your time would come, as Flavio had promised. That season you managed good results in the points, and even got five podium finishes, which landed you fourth in the drivers’ championship and managed Renault to win the constructors.

That day in Interlagos, during the Brazilian Grand Prix, you woke up knowing Fernando would become world champion. You didn’t tell him to not put any more pressure on him. He only needed a podium to mathematically become the champion of the world.

He finished P3, and you finished P7. Seeing Fernando radiantly happy, dancing, shouting and jumping was etched forever in your brain as one of your happiest memories. The way he eventually found you, holding you firmly against him, the both of you crying happy tears became headlines all around the world.

“I told you, didn’t I?” You broke the hug so you could stare into his red rimmed eyes.

“You did. You’re right more often than not, I’ve come to realize.” He whispered. When someone tried to put a mic in your faces, Fernando pushed it away.

“This is your moment, go.” You gestured to the other side, where he had to go before the podium.

Looking up from the ground to Fernando, you were so happy you thought your heart would burst open. And you couldn’t wait for it to be your turn, to feel this happiness the other way around.

That night, you, Fernando and the entire team got ready to party, to celebrate his championship. You dressed up to the nines, putting makeup and spending a good half an hour styling your hair. When you left the elevator, meeting the whole team at the lobby, they shouted and whistled saying you were pretty. It made you a bit shy but you liked the attention.

You and Fernando danced and drank like crazy that night, going strong all the way into the morning. When the party ended and you two sat on your suite balcony, watching the sun rise, you bought out an ice cream pint you had kept in the room minibar.

“How do you feel, Mr. World Champion?” You sat cross legged in front of him.

“Like a dream come true, sometimes I don’t even believe it’s real,” he said, staring into the horizon.

“Remember when we would talk about this moment?” You took his hand in yours, as he nodded, “Wow. This is great. I’m so happy for you, and happy for fifteen year-old Nano, the bright eyed boy that fixed my kart charge free.”

It’s barely a second after you finished speaking that Fernando leaned into your space and just kissed your lips. It took you a second to understand what was going on, but when his hand found your hair, you reciprocated. His lips, that had been cold from the ice cream quickly became warm under your ministrations. You held his shoulders and let him pull you closer, until you were straddling his lap. The kiss was messy, all over the place, clanking lips, teeth and tongue. You moaned softly as he squeezed your ass, and you pulled his hair at the nape, grinding down on his lap, making him groan too.

“We should not,” he said, breaking the kiss. You nodded, panting.

“Yeah, totally, we-” you tried to speak but he nipped at your neck and you lost all train of thought.

“No, we won’t ruin-” he tried again but you pulled his hair, forcing his head up so you could kiss him.

“You’re right-” you muttered against his lips, right before smashing it when you kissed him again. You stayed there, kissing, making out like you were teenagers again, too scared to reach for each other's clothes and take the next step.

When the sun was fully up in the sky, and whatever was left of the ice cream had melted, your alarm rang, and you and Fernando parted. You were about to invite him to sleep with you for a few hours when he paused, his face worried. Fernando took one of your hands.

“This is a one time- thing, right?” He frowned, and you swallowed before nodding.

“Yes, of course.” You don’t correct him with memories of your eighteenth birthday.

“I just, I don’t want anything to ruin our friendship,” he stared at you, visibly scared for your friendship, and you didn’t have the heart to ask for more.

“It won’t ruin, I promise. If you want, we can forget it ever happened,” you said, hoping and praying he would change his mind. But he looked relieved at your words.

After he left, you sat down on the bed, disheartened, knowing that these scraps of affection would have to be stored in a safe spot inside your heart, and would be nothing more than memories, and what-ifs you’d only dare to look at late in your sleepless nights. You wondered how many times he would have to undervalue your romantic affections for you to understand he didn’t want you and never would. That was the second time you shared a moment, and the second time he had dismissed it. It’s not meant to be, you whispered to yourself.

When the new season started, you had gotten a grip over your feelings for him, focused on moving on. Being in love with your best friend for around a decade was pathetic enough.

Fernando was great during the start of the season, scoring two wins within the first three races. And despite not being the results you wanted, you placed top ten in all of them, even managing one podium finish.

When the fourth race came, though, it was when you and Fernando started to collapse. It was a very carefully plotted race for you and your team, and after managing your tyres with care, you didn’t have to pit twice. And you won, for the first time ever, you stood on the top of the podium. Unfortunately, Fernando didn’t get a podium. Holding your trophy, you looked down from the podium looking to your team, and searching for Fernando.

He wasn’t there, and your heart shattered a bit with his absence.

Maybe he had a problem and couldn’t be there for you. Maybe he was busy.

You went down to speak to the press, happily talking about strategies, how you and your team masterminded it, how you managed to preserve your tyres for longer than expected.

“How do you and Fernando manage to balance your friendship out of the track with the rivalry happening inside the track?” Someone asked. You were caught by surprise, taking a few seconds to actually compute the words he said.

“Well, I haven’t seen Fernando yet, but I believe he’d be happy for my good result as much as I’d be happy for him,” you told him, but immediately regretted it as the reporter had a gotcha expression on his face.

“Well, actually, this is what Fernando said a few minutes ago when he gave an interview-”

The man gave you a tape recorder attached to a pair of headphones, and your stomach filled with dread as he pressed rewind and play.

“Fernando, today’s win puts your best friend as a contender for the championship, what do you say?”

“Well, I believe she is talented, but too young and not yet ready to face me and actually compete for the championship.”

His voice was bitter, like he didn’t see you as nothing but a bug under his shoes. Instead of making you sad, it only left you seething in anger, but as you removed the headphones, you controlled the urge to smash the headphones on the nearest wall and smirked coldly to the camera that was waiting for your reaction.

“What do you think about Fernando saying you’re still not ready to become world champion?” The reporter urged, waiting for a beef that he would successfully get.

“Well, I guess he feels threatened by me, so I’ll take that as a compliment,” you shrugged, not caring about adding more fuel to the fire. If Fernando thought he could go running his mouth and you’d be fine or not jab him back, he was in for a surprise.

After wrapping up the interviews, you finally managed to go to your room and take a shower. You were getting ready to leave when Fernando found you again, walking into your room without bothering to knock. You didn’t even look at him, just kept packing your bag.

“Nena…”

“Don’t fucking talk to me,” you shook your head, holding on to the anger instead of allowing yourself to be sad. How he was able to ruin your first ever win in Formula 1, you couldn’t know.

“Nena, please, just-” He tried again, blocking your path to the door.

“No! Fuck you, Fernando!” You took a step back, letting your bag fall to the floor, an accusatory finger pointing to his face, “How dare you do this to me? You know how many times I cheered for you? How many times I wasn’t even on the podium and still, I was happy for you? Huh? I was there for you every step of the way, and you can’t be there for me once? Now you go out there and disregard my win in front of the whole world? What did I ever do to you for you to say that shit about me?” Your voice trembled, but you refused to cry in front of him, “I’d never do that to you, you selfish asshole.”

“I shouldn’t have said that, but I was pole and didn’t even manage to turn it into a podium? I was upset, the strategy fucked me up! I know I should not have said that! You’re right! I was selfish and an asshole-”

“Damn right you were!” You shouted, then picked up your bag, “I don’t want to see you right now.”

You walked past him, leaving at once.

That night, you went to celebrate with the team and without your teammate, you got pretty wasted, dancing and drinking like you had never done before. You refused to let yourself feel down because of Fernando’s big mouth. Dancing the night away, you didn’t stop even when people on the team asked you to, since you were getting out of hand. You were grinding on a stranger, dancing to reggaeton when you felt a hand on your arm.

“Let’s go,” the voice said and you turned, seeing Fernando in front of you. He looked like he was dressed in pajamas and hair all disheveled.

He was asleep when someone on the team called him because they wanted to leave and you were being difficult, so they hoped that your best friend could come pick you up and convince you to leave.

“Excuse me?!” You pulled your arm from him.

“We’re leaving!” Fernando said, pointing to where your team was, seeing it empty, “you’re not going to stay here alone.”

Begrudgingly, you let him lead you outside, one hand in your arm, and the other one on your back. You stumbled in your heels, and Fernando pressed you against the wall, kneeling to remove your shoes and help you walk better outside. Silently, he drove you back to the hotel, while you were with your arms crossed and sulking.

He walked you to your room, helping you change into pajamas, then tucked you into the bed. He stood there for a second, pushing your hair away from your face as you closed your eyes, letting his knuckles run over your cheek softly.

“I wish-” you mumbled, sleepy, “I wish you were happy for me.”

His eyes filled with tears, seeing just how awful he had been to you. A dream was coming true and all he could think of was himself.

“I am, Nena. I’m so happy for you,” He said, but you didn’t answer, already asleep, due to being tired from the race and heavily drunk.

You woke up with a pounding headache and a stomach churning hangover. Still, you showered, drank tea and got ready to go home. When Fernando knocked on the door of your hotel room later that day to apologize, you were already on a flight to Spain. Your birthday would be later that week and your family wanted to throw you a dinner party. 

Your birthday was nice, despite obviously feeling Fernando’s absence.

You were sitting alone on the porch, after the party, when he showed up, late in the night. You didn’t say anything as he walked up to you.

“Peace offering?” Fernando showed you a small ice cream pint “I’m so sorry. I never meant to undermine you. I was a jerk, and you didn’t deserve any of it. I’m so, so sorry.”

You hesitated for a second, but his eyes were so gentle, remorseful, that you couldn’t help but give in. You jumped into his arms so suddenly he almost dropped the ice cream, but he managed to balance it and hug you back with the other arm.

“Happy birthday, Nena,” he whispered, 

“Thank you,” you said, without letting him go, “I’m sorry too. I apologize for implying you felt threatened by me.”

“You should have called me worse things,” he whispered.

You ended up sharing the ice cream once again, talking about life.

Deep down, you hoped things would go back to normal, but a part of you knew that things would never be the same. You two were too much alike for anything to work. Too proud. Too stubborn. Too competitive. When you were good, it was great, but when you were mad, your words were daggers.

The both of you tried to stay normal the next couple of races, but it was strained, forced, especially when you were racing each other. You supposed Fernando was used to you backing down for him, since it was all you had done the year before when you were a rookie. But now you were used to the car, to explore all the possibilities while pushing your tyres to their maximum, while trying insane strategies and making it work. You were a risky driver, just like him, often seen as reckless.

All the while, the media started catching up to it. They went digging to find pictures of you and Fernando when you were kids, in karting and junior competitions, finding out people to interview, old classmates, people you two had met over the years, telling everyone about your close friendship, about you growing up together. Despite you both refusing to comment on your past, the journalists would always find a way to learn more and more about you.

Eventually, it got to your nerves, harsh words were often said whenever questions were thrown at you. You were in a press conference, where Fernando was also there along with a few other drivers.

“It is noticeable that you and Alonso’s driving style is very similar, would you say that he taught you everything you know?”

You didn’t like his tone, you hated whatever he was implying, not because of Fernando, but because it meant to reduce your efforts and abilities.

“No, Alonso has no part in my racing,” your tone was firm against the mic, and you could feel Fernando’s eyes on you, two chairs away on your left.

“But you grew up together?” The man insisted, and you loudly sighed, exhausted from everyone trying to make you talk about it all the time.

“And that doesn’t mean anything!” You said with gritted teeth.

There was a moment of silence right after your outburst, and you didn’t dare to look anywhere besides ahead. When the questions moved on to other drivers, you breathed again. Finally sparing a glance to Fernando, he only looked at you for a fleeting moment, but you knew him so well, you could recognize his teary eyes. Only then it dawned on you how badly you fucked up by insinuating he didn’t mean anything to you.

When the conference ended, you watched as Fernando left really quickly, not even looking in your direction. You ran, trying to find him, going to his room that was right beside yours.

“Fernando-” You walked inside, not even bothering to knock.

“So, our friendship means nothing!” He shook his head, looking disappointed.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Nano!”

“Now I’m Nano again?” He scoffed.

You wanted to cry and plead, to explain that you never meant it this way. You were just tired of people trying to attribute your success to others. You were tired of people comparing the two of you, and saying everything you were came from him, just because he joined the category five years before you. 

“Fernando, please-”

“Leave.” His eyes were cold, almost detached when he pointed to the door.

“Please, Nano…” You whispered, feeling your own eyes welling up with tears. He just shook his head ‘no’ again.

You walked out quietly, not allowing your tears to fall down as you got into your room, inhaling and puffing your chest. You didn’t let up, trying to talk to him again, because it was just a misunderstanding.

Three days later, you tried to find him again, after the race ended, hoping he would have calmed down after a good result, a P2 in that race. You knocked on his door and entered. He was changing clothes as you walked in, he finished dressing a shirt.

“What?” He said, barely looking at you, as he sat down on the sofa, brushing his hair.

“I wanted to talk about what I said during-” your words were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in!” Fernando said, and soon, two pretty girls walked in, wearing pretty dresses, one blonde and the other brunette, “pretty girls!”

You recognized they were grid girls, and they looked familiar from this weekend.

“Can we talk?” You said, trying to make him at least send the girls away for a moment.

“I’m listening,” he smirked, and you gulped as the blonde ran a hand up and down his chest. The brunette leaned into his ear with a seductive smile, whispering something.

“Fernando, please…” You asked again and he didn’t even look at you, laughing at something the girls whispered to him, “I’m sorry,” you whispered, before turning in your heels and leaving his room.

Shame and jealousy burned inside you.

He started giving you a silent treatment from then on and three races later, your silent strain came to a head, once again.

You were right behind him at the race, you P3 and him right ahead, but you had enough speed to outpace him soon, maybe a couple more laps and you’d equal him enough to try and overtake, you rode turn 2 smoothly, but as you two kept going, Fernando half a second in front of you, he suddenly hit the brakes, making you hit his rear.

“What the fuck? He brake tested me!” You shouted into the radio, reassessing, you gulped, noticing the damage to your front right tyre, “I’ve got damage!”

You called into the box to change your tyre, which fucked up your entire strategy, and made you go from the P3 to P9 in the grid. You managed to recover a little bit, but still ended P5 and out of the podium.

The rage was burning your chest as you went to the garage absolutely fuming. After all the podium proceedings and celebrations, you waited for Fernando, but he just walked past you without a care in the world. That made you even more pissed, and nobody managed to hold you when you tossed your helmet aside and marched up to him.

“That was really fucked up, Fernando!” You cut his path, making him stop short. Suddenly a bunch of people started gathering around you two, everyone ready for a show.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He shrugged, but you knew him like the palm of your own hand, and you knew that condescending smile he showed you.

“You are a fucking coward if you have to brake test me just to get a podium,” you said, venomous, feeling your dad trying to pull you away and dissipate the commotion. But you weren’t done, “you’re pathetic, Fernando.”

“That’s enough!” Your dad said, pulling you back.

“Or maybe you’re just not good enough, have you thought about that?” Fernando said back, and you jumped on him, trying to get close enough for violence, but your dad held your waist, removing your feet from the ground and pulling you back.

“Man up, Fernando! You fucking asshole!” You shouted as your dad dragged you back into the garage.

Your dad placed you inside your room, grabbing water so you could drink and calm down. When he turned back, a sob broke from your throat, and you covered your mouth with a hand, trying to muffle the sounds of your crying. You shook as you cried again, your dad hugging you close and murmuring to you to let it all out.

You never thought your friendship with Fernando would ever come to this. You weren’t even sure of how the buildup happened that led to this.

“I don’t recognize him anymore, Papá. I don’t recognize my best friend anymore,” you shook your head, your voice breaking in hiccups. You pressed the plant of your hand to your eyes to try and stop the tears falling down, but it was useless.

“It’s ok, bebé. You’re both hotheaded, you need to talk calmly, try and fix it.”

You didn’t try to talk to him. He was wrong when he brake tested you, and if he couldn’t apologize for that, and for the hurtful words he said, then it was better to stay that way.

It only got worse as the season went on, the team tried to force you to give him advantages, but you refused many times, making the competition for the World Drivers Championship be between the two of you.

“We need to talk,” Flavio called you a day after another one of your wins, one that Fernando placed third, one that he didn’t even look at your face when you were up there.

“What happened?” You sat down in front of him by the table.

“You have to follow team orders. When we say you have to switch places with Fernando, you switch. You are deliberately going against orders, what is going on? You and Fernando are now in a cold war, the media caught up, the other drivers caught up too, why-”

“Am I the only one getting lectured?” You crossed your arms, seeing Flavio getting red in the face, angry.

“No. I want answers from both of you, and the way you’re being aggressive with each other, we believe it’s better to talk to you separately,” Flavio sighed, “What is happening? Before it was interesting, a beautiful rivalry, but now you way past that. You’re harming your own races and the team.”

“You talk to Fernando. He thinks because I won’t back down he needs to use every dirty trick in the book to damage my race. If he can’t handle competition like an adult, then he shouldn’t be here.”

Suddenly, the door opened, which made you jump. Fernando walked inside, fuming.

“So that’s what you think of me?” He raised his voice.

“Yes, you have been acting like a fucking kid,” you stood up.

“Me? You told the whole world our friendship means nothing to you! Have you any idea how that made me feel?!” Fernando got closer.

“Do you know how many times people disdain my career to pin it to someone else? To attribute my successes to you, or to Flavio, or even my dad?! You’ve got no idea what it's like being a woman here!”

“Power got to your head! You think you have to walk all over everyone to get what you want!”

“Power?! Literally every man here does that! You do that too, Fernando!”

“Funny you say that since you wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me!” He shouted, pointing a finger to the ground.

“Fernando, stop.” Flavio muttered, coming closer to where you were face to face with Fernando.

You frowned, your anger completely dissipated and what was left was dread. And a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“What?” You hated how your voice was nothing more than a vulnerable whisper.

“Fernando, enough!” Flavio commanded out loud, gesturing with a hand.

“What do you mean, Fernando?!” You asked again, ignoring Flavio trying to pacify the fight.

“I was the one to ask Flavio to sponsor you. I asked him to take a shot and invest in your career!” Fernando’s words were poison and in his eyes you couldn’t see anything left of your former best friend.

“Is it true, Flavio?” You asked but your eyes never left Fernando’s.

“Yes, but if we calm down, we can talk like adults.”

You couldn’t even come up with words, speechless not only from what Fernando told you, but from the tone he used. It was like he had punched you straight in the gut. You couldn’t contain your tears anymore, the lump in your throat threatening to suffocate you. You wanted to jump on him, to push him to the ground and punch his face. You wanted to scream in his face and call him all the dirty names you could think of. You tried to hold onto the anger but your limbs were still, and the pain expanded inside you like wildfire. He had lied to you, in the biggest step of your career he had lied to you. Even when you pressed for answers, he lied straight to your face.

You stared into his eyes one last time. It was the first time he had seen you really cry. He had seen you teary eyed or even emotional before, but it was the first time he had seen you truly cry.

“You’re dead to me, Fernando.”

Was all you managed to rasp, fat tears streaming down your cheeks. Flavio called your name as you walked away, but you never looked back and didn’t stop until you were inside your car, wailing like a baby. You sobbed all the way back to the hotel. You cried as you packed your bags, and tried but failed to contain your tears all the way back home, until you were at your parents’ door, sobbing on their sofa.

They didn’t ask anything until a couple of hours later when you managed to stop crying.

“I hate Fernando, so much, Mamá,” you whispered.

“Honey, don’t say that. Don’t do or say something you might regret later on,” She told you. You shook your head.

“I’m done with him. Done.” You bit back a sob, “he was so cruel, you had to see it.”

“He’s your best friend, dear. I’m sure it will be alright later on.”

“You should’ve seen the hate in his eyes, I don’t know him anymore. That’s not my Nano.”

So, your racing career was a lie. You didn’t make it because of your talent or your efforts. You were in Formula 1 because of Fernando. That was the cruelest thing someone ever said to you, not only because he was mean in the way he said it, but because with a few words he diminished your entire career. And what could you come up with to contest? He was right. You would never be there without him.

You wanted to give up so badly at that moment. You wanted to stay home and never come back, but you knew you couldn’t, your sense of duty was loud and you had to make it work. You had to prove that you deserved your spot in Formula 1, that all of Flavio’s forced investment on you was worth it.

You had to prove to Fernando you were more than a friend he pitied, more than a charity case he took so he could throw it at your face later.

It was one of the hardest things to realize and accept, the fact that he wasn’t your friend anymore. Maybe he never was. Despite all the disagreements the past couple of years, and all the beautiful history you had before the pinnacle of motorsport, maybe he never saw you as a friend. You thought you’d never treat a friend the way he treated you.

So you had to prove Fernando wrong.

NOTE: If you want to be tagged on part 2, please let me know in the comments!

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 fic #f1 #formula one #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso #brocedes #Spotify

[farmerstarter]

The Bachelors on their Wedding Day

Hi Hello have this short list of my little Headcanons of the bachelors on their wedding day. Hope you enjoy it! Reblogs and likes are appreciated!!🌷🤍

ʚ🏈ɞ ˚ · . Alex :

🏈 Fiddles with his tie relentlessly and ends up ruining it. He runs to Evelyn to ask her to tie it up again. The only other thing he fusses over is his hair.

🏈 Alex keeps a rabbit's foot in his pants, wanting all the luck he can get.

🏈 Spent literal days writing his wedding vows. Ends up opting to wing it. It wasn't the most eloquently worded thing you've heard but it was sweet.

🏈 He gave himself a pep talk in his bedroom before the ceremony. You only know about this because George was complaining about how loud he was to you.

🏈 Dusty the dog is the mermaid pendant bearer, I decided.

🏈 Also, the song that plays during the wedding is the same tune from Alex's music box. 🥺

ʚ🪶ɞ ˚ · . Elliott :

🪶Beach wedding. You guys have a beach wedding. You've expressed your interest in one and Elliott, with the eager help of Willy, clean up the beach for your special day. Elliott's shoes would fill with sand but his discomfort is overpowered by his delight when he sees you all dressed up.

🪶 He reads you one (of many) of his poems about you. You later learned that he's got a whole book of poetry about you that he's been writing ever since you two started dating. The poem he read on the wedding day was the very first one and is the first page of the book.

🪶 He spent hours trying to make himself look good. Asking for Leah and Willy's input on what he should wear for a solid 3 hours.

🪶 Aside from him worrying over his appearance, Elliott is more excited than nervous. He's on the verge of creating a new chapter in his life with someone else. Gone are the days of his lonely shack and the empty (well, not as empty since you moved into town) beach. Honestly, to say that he's excited is an understatement.

ʚ🛩️ɞ ˚ · . Harvey :

🛩️ Gets awfully shy when reading his vows, stuttering his way through his words and being a blushing mess. He has no problem with the one-on-one check up sessions he does with the other villagers of Pelican Town, but to read aloud in front of all of them at once threw him off. But he kept his eyes on you and managed to power through it.

🛩️ He considered shaving off his mustache for the wedding at least twice. But he decided against the idea.

🛩️ Insisted that you eat Farmer's Brunch the morning of the wedding. Even during your wedding day, he wants to make sure you're feeling healthy.

🛩️ Holds your hands throughout the whole ceremony. Whispering apologies for how clammy his hands are.

ʚ🎸ɞ ˚ · . Sam :

🎸 He wrote a whole song about you and played it on your wedding day. He made it a surprise for you and the moments of him hiding his guitar and shoving music sheets under his bed when you visit his room were all starting to make sense to you.

🎸 Couldn't sleep for the whole night before the wedding. He worried over the ceremony and wanted to make it go smoothly. He's not one to meticulously plan every detail, opting to engage in spur of the moment decisions, but he tried his best to make everything as close to perfect as he can get.

🎸 Jodi tried to gel Sam's hair back, but no matter the amount of gel and hours, his hair would always spring back. Sam wasn't a fan of dressing up in a "dorky suit" but he did anyway, for you.

🎸 Sam didn't want to see you until the wedding so he got Vincent to play messenger for the two of you. He wouldn't do it at first but only agreed to do it because he likes you (Cue a dramatic gasp from Sam).

ʚ🐸ɞ ˚ · . Sebastian :

🐸 Ends up smiling through the whole ceremony, looking at you with such a brightness in his eyes.

🐸 He isn't one to wear anything fancy. The closest thing he ever wore that is considered formal was the suit that Lewis got him and the rest of the dancers to wear for the Flower Dance. He asks his mom to help him dress up for the wedding, asking her about it while she was building furniture. Sebastian doesn't want to admit it, but he liked watching his mom so happy over something that was so mundane to him. He makes sure to keep the suit in perfect condition throughout the ceremony because of it.

🐸 He tells his very heartfelt wedding vows. And while he does, you could hear the faint "that's good," from Elliott before a grunt, inevitably elbowed on the side by Leah.

🐸 You and him ride on his motorcycle after the wedding. He drives you two to the cliff overlooking the city, the same cliff where he confessed his true feelings to you. Under the full moon, the two of you would look at the stars with Sebastian occasionally pointing at a constellation that Maru taught him to find.

🐸 Consider: winter wedding.

ʚ🐣ɞ ˚ · . Shane :

🐣 Genuinely doesn't believe that you want to marry him. He thinks it's a dream at best and a prank at worst. It wasn't until you were tying his mermaid pendant around his neck for him to know that you do love him. He still has trouble understanding it sometimes.

🐣 Shane asked Marnie to teach him how to waltz for your wedding day. Sure, he's danced in the Flower Dance countless of times but he wanted to learn something new to surprise you. And he did. After dancing with you, he dances with Jas. Well, it's more of Jas standing on Shane's feet while he walks and glides around.

🐣 He gave his chicken, Charlie, a bow tie for the wedding and everything. Even got a picture of you and Shane with the little guy. The picture ends up being hanged on Shane's side of the bedroom for many years to come.

🐣 Has his pocket full of corn chips, let's be honest. He offers one to you before the ceremony starts.

#stardew valley #stardew valley x reader #stardew valley fanfic #sdv elliot x farmer #sdv elliot x reader #sdv sebastian x farmer #sdv sebastian x reader #sdv alex x reader #sdv alex x farmer #sdv harvey x reader #sdv harvey x farmer #sdv sam x reader #sdv sam x farmer #sdv shane x reader #sdv shane x farmer #sdv alex #sdv elliott #sdv harvey #sdv sam #sdv Sebastian #sdv shane #support banner at the end is by cafekitsune 🤍 #🌱 writing :: BACHELORS

[fourmoony]

Just thinking about Sirius trusting reader enough to do his hair :,) or maybe she experiments with putting his hair in curlers/curling it. I could even imagine Sirius owning a Dyson airwrap to have the best blowouts 😭💀

Sirius would 100000% own the dyson air wrap!!! Thanks for requesting, babe!

cw: none

750 words, modern au

You're not sure where Sirius learned his money managing skills from (or if he even has any), but the pleased smile and child-like excitement over his brand new hair dryer is something you refuse to admonish. Though, you're sure even if you tried, you'd fail.

Your boyfriend bounces happily on the balls of his feet, hair sopping wet and plastered to his face. Water droplets seep into his grey shirt but Sirius doesn't seem to care. Not when he's too busy making bedroom eyes at the unopened box on the bathroom counter. He'd been so happy when John Lewis finally had the Dyson Air Wrap back in stock, had dragged you out of bed this morning to drop an easy five hundred quid on it. Your head had spun with the realisation of just how rich your boyfriend actually is.

He's not flashy with his money. Irresponsible, yes. But being there to witness a classic Sirius-Black-Irresponsible-Purchase had really solidified the knowledge that your boyfriend is filthy rich.

"Okay, I'll grab a stool and you set it up." He says, turning to make for the stool that sits under your dressing table.

"Wait, you want me to do it?" You yell after him.

Sirius makes noise everywhere he goes. He's loud and abrasive, jagged around the edges. He loves so loud that it only makes sense his entire personality is the same. There's thumps and grumbles as he bumps into things all the way along the hall, the tell tale sounds of the stool scraping along your freshly painted hallway. "Well who else would do it?" Sirius rounds the corner, flashes his teeth in a wide grin that he knows will make you fold.

"What makes you think I'm qualified?"

Sirius shrugs, "The fact that I'm one hundred percent not. You're good at everything, sweetness."

He knows flattery works like a charm, especially when he pairs it with his best flirty eyes. You sigh, reaching for the box and unravelling all of the corresponding pieces. It's high tech, incredibly high tech. Sirius fidgets on the stool as you watch a video on your phone, lips curled between your teeth in concentration.

It takes a while to get the hang of, and you're sure you'll get better in time. Sirius softens and relaxes as much as he ever allows himself to as your fingers work through his hair, as you brush and comb and dry it. He hums and sighs and even closes his eyes. It's peaceful and intimate and it allows you to come to a startling realisation that Sirius has never asked you to do his hair for him before.

He's not prissy about his hair. He'll let anyone touch it. He actually begs for people to play with his hair. But he's never outright asked you to fix it up for him, prefers to get it sitting perfect by himself because he believes it to be his best asset. You'd have to disagree with him on that. His eyes never fail to amaze you, nor his smile.

"All done." Your voice seems to pull him out of a daydream.

His eyes open and he smiles wide, turning in the stool in an instant until he can take your hands in his. "Bad news, sweetheart, you're going to have to do this every day." He informs you, standing until his hands can reach your hips.

He pulls you into him, a little roughly, but catches you with his own body, lips ducking down to press to your forehead. You resist the urge to tell him you'd be happy to do his hair every day, if only to feel the intimacy and pride of being the one person he trusts to style his hair.

"Such a travesty." You feign indifference, lips pressed to his collar bone where it peeks out of his shirt.

Sirius shivers at the contact. "Easy, sweetness. I know my hair is super hot and stuff, but we have dinner reservations with James and Remus. They'll get pissy if we cancel to have sex."

"Again." He adds after a second.

You scoff, pushing your boyfriend away whilst he barks with laughter. Heat creeps up your neck as you exit the bathroom, ignoring Sirius' shouts down the hallway that he could make an exception for a quickie.

"Thanks, baby!" He calls a moment later.

You can't fight the smile that toys at your lips as you pick out an outfit for dinner.

#marauders #sirius black #fourmoonys asks #sirius black fic #sirius black imagine #sirius black oneshot #sirius black x reader #sirius black x f!reader #sirius black fluff #sirius black comfort #marauders fic #marauders imagine #james potter #remus lupin #fourmoony

[hardlyinteresting]

Warm feelings

Aaron Hotchner Masterlist | Send Requests

More domestic thoughts about being warm and cozy

"Affection is responsible for nine-tenths of whatever solid and durable happiness there is in our lives" -C.S. Lewis

Jackets

He always reminds you to take a coat with you on the way out the door, and you always insist that you'll be fine without one. He'll tell you it's his biggest pet peeve, you refusing to wear a coat and then shivering in the cold. He never fails to drape his jacket over your shoulders at the first sign of goosebumps.

Hotch is a traditional kind of guy and he's the type of guy who suggests you take a stroll after a fancy dinner. He's just not ready for the night to come to an end. You're all dolled up, and a little tipsy from the wine you had at dinner. You agree easily, holding his hand and tucking yourself close to his side. It's colder than when you left the house, he'll grant you that. “Cold?” He asks as concerned as he is amused. And you just have to bat your lashes at him and he's slipping off his jacket to wrap it around your shoulders. It smells like his cologne and is warm from his body heat. It's an easy way for him to say ‘I love you’.

Sweaters

Hotch absolutely has his old university and FBI academy crewneck sweatshirts. Softened and faded by time; worn and washed to the point of having frayed cuffs and collars. Aaron strikes me as the if it's not broke, don't throw it out kind of guy. He likes those sweaters. They're warm and comfortable. He knows they fit, and are easy to wash; he sees no reason to replace them. More than that Aaron has a definite nostalgic streak. As much as he acts like he's detached and indifferent to anything remotely sentimental, at home he almost overcompensates, holding on to every happy moment and memory he can. Case in point, his high school yearbooks, and the pirate hat. (You cannot convince me that he doesn't keep some kind of memory box with Jack's paintings; tickets from plays; his acceptance letter from college; and birthday and anniversary cards that you've taken such care to write such heartfelt messages in). He has fond memories of his law school and academy days; he wants to keep them close. At first, you think he might be upset that you're wearing them around the house but he would actually be thrilled. It's a collision of some of his favourite things and it's a specific domestic sight to come home to. He's a caretaker by nature and it thrills him that he can manage to keep you warm and cozy every when he has to be away. You can borrow his sweaters anytime.

Body heat

The man radiates heat. Just standing next to him is enough to feel warmer. He has a knack for knowing exactly how many layers he needs to put on to stay warm, while you struggle to decide whether or not you should also put on a scarf. He does everything with such a specific level of confidence, even the way he prepares for the day is borderline awe-inspiring.

He gets so few days off that he is unwilling to let the late autumn cold interrupt his time with Jack. When the three of you head to the park, Jack insists on shedding layers, his hat and mitten coming off first, he’s warm enough running around (Aaron doesn’t let the boy take his coat off completely but they compromise and he’s allowed to keep playing with his jacket unzipped). Despite checking the forecast several times, and bundling up, the cold still gets to you. And Aaron looks so cozy in his sweater and his coat. He’s the picture of a cozy winter boyfriend with his leather gloves, and scarf. Like his son his coat hangs unzipped on his frame, and it's the perfect opportunity for you to snuggle in, arms wrapping around his torso under the warm layer of his jacket, your cold nose pressed against his chest. “Cold?” he asks with a hint of a smile. You can only tilt your head up at him to pout back. He slips his gloves off to cup your face, his hands toasty warm against your ice-cold skin. Your face warms and your heart melts when he lays a kiss on your forehead. “Hey Jack,” Aaron calls, “What would you say to getting some hot chocolate?” Jack comes running.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds fic #hotch x reader

[natailiatulls07]

The mystery package

Dad!Harry Lewis x reader

Summary - based on this tiktok video

Warnings - nothing really

-

"There's a package-" Harry walked into the living holding a large brown box. He was soon cut off by his pregnant wife, Y/n.

"Gimme me! Gimme me!" Making grabby hands towards the box in the tall mans hand. Excitement evident on her face, the pregnant women perked up in her seat on the soft white sofa.

Harry struggled to hold in his amusant as he asked what is it. A smirk grew on Y/n's face as she continued to make grabby hands.

"Just wait!" Harry gave over the package, "What is it?"

She started to fiddle with box, "It's something in here", the eagerness making her husband laugh even more.

Yanking open the box, her face mophed into something similar to cheeky. "You know how I wanted to get the baby one of those cute jellycats?" Ever since the pregnant women had found out that she was expecting, she wouldn't stop talking about the brand. She had some herself, she had named each one with an individual name.

"Yeah, how could I not? Ever time we talk about the baby, you somehow manage to bring in the Jellycat brand" Y/n flicked her hair out of her face, whilst also supporting a cheeky smile.

"So I went onto the website and I kind of used our shared card to buy a few jellycats" Her cheeky smile went into a fake innocent smile as Harry's amused face turned into somewhat amused shock.

He sighed before asking "And do you care to tell your loving husband how much money you spent on how many stuffed animals?" Y/n pulled out a brown bear, a cream bunny and a rainbow.

"um...about um...£74...yeah" The women whispered, hoping that Harry would be able to hear her but however the man laboured a amused smile yet again. "Well it was worth it"

"I'll let you off, but only because you're cute and I love our baby" Y/n continued to inspect the three stuffed animals, continuousily giving them quick hugs. "Wait there's something else in there" He eyed up his wife as she dipped her hand in custiously.

"Well you see...whilst I was shopping for the baby, I saw something and I couldn't not get it" The hand pulled out of the box to reveal a green dragon.

"So you got the baby and yourself some stuffed animals?"

"Yep!" She was proud of her. "I love them and the baby will love them"

"I love you so much, you weirdo" Harry moved to sit next to Y/n before bring her to his chest, resting his hands on her pregnant belly.

-

#harry lewis x reader #wroetoshaw x reader #sidemen #sidemen x reader #youtube

[magiccath]

Christmas with the Doctor

Tenth Doctor x GN!reader

Summary: In which you and the Doctor celebrate Christmas

Traveling time and space constantly had one slightly annoying effect on the Doctor. He had absolutely no concept of time. Days, months, and years were but a loose concept to him. Usually, holidays just happened when he deemed fit. He would waltz into the TARDIS control room and declare that the day was special. Most of the time, you just went along with it. He did things on a whim, and Christmas was no expectation. 

Just last month he decided it was time to set up a Christmas tree. The issue was, he didn’t have a tree. He had random spare robot parts, dog food (but no dog), the entire works of C.S. Lewis, two dead plants, a Santa costume, and 52 blankets hidden away on the ship. But he didn’t have a Christmas tree. 

Determined to find one, he flew the TARDIS back to modern-day London without bothering to land during the correct time of year. He spent a whole day tramping about in the middle of Spring asking around for a Christmas tree. The various amounts of surprised looks and disgruntled shopkeepers explaining it was March didn’t stop him. Eventually, he found a second-hand shop that miraculously had a crappy plastic one in the back. He wasn’t too keen on the idea of an artificial tree, but it would have to do.

You had attempted to point out that he could just pop backward a few months and get a real one at the right time of year, but the Doctor’s mind didn’t think like that. To him, the simplest answer wasn’t always the right one.

Still, you’d helped him carry the big box back to the ship and held the doors open as he dragged it into the control room. You grabbed a cup of tea and leaned against the console to watch gleefully as he struggled to assemble the thing. Eventually, with the help of the Sonic, he got it all sorted out. After a few hours and lots of frustration, he had managed to set up a slightly lopsided plastic tree in the corner. Frankly, it looked a little sad.

“We need ornaments,” he frowned, circling the tree pensively. 

“I don’t suppose you have those.” Considering he didn’t have a tree, it was highly unlikely that he had any other Christmas decorations.

He shook his head, “but we can make some,” he cheered, running about the TARDIS collecting various supplies. You watched him dash about with narrowed eyes, wondering what he meant by that. 

He handed you a pair of scissors and a stack of construction paper, which you used to make paper chains. You sat idly, cutting and folding paper as he continued his rummaging. He’d pop out of the small storage bunkers in the floor every now and then wielding circular hardware and colorful string. 

At one point, he plopped a dismembered Cyberman head on the floor with a loud clunk. 

“What’s that for?” you asked, pointing with the tip of your scissors. 

“Tree topper,” he smiled brightly, popping his head up from the floor, a massive grin plastered on his face. 

You furrowed your brows but didn’t question it any further. Sometimes it was best to just let the Doctor do his thing. You found if you questioned things too much you typically ended up with more questions rather than answers.

Having collected everything that could pass as makeshift ornaments, the Doctor started hanging them on the limp limbs of the plastic tree. He handed you a few ‘ornaments’ and you helped him.

“I think I have some lights,” you mumbled, running off to your room. You came back a few moments later with a string of fairy lights that the Doctor helped you wrap around the tree. 

When you were done, the two of you took a step back to admire your work. It was makeshift and messy at best, but it still made you smile. You looked over at the Doctor and found him grinning back at you. 

“It’s perfect,” you laughed, knowing that you and the Doctor were likely the only people to ever think so. It wasn’t pretty, but it was reflective of your work together, and that was really all that mattered. 

“I agree,” the Doctor smiled, picking you up and spinning you around the control room with a light-hearted laugh.

You had figured that was the rest of Christmas for a while, even if the tree remained in the corner of the control room. That was until the Doctor woke you up with a childish smile. 

“It’s Christmas,” he grinned, tapping your cheek repeatedly. You frowned, eyes blurry from sleep. 

“It’s what?” you grumbled, pushing yourself up on your elbow so you could glare at the Doctor. 

“Christmas,” he stated, smiling at you. 

“Now?” you asked, rubbing sleep from your eyes. The Doctor laughed like you had said something funny and grabbed your hand, yanking you out of bed. Too tired to protest, you allowed him to drag you out of your room and into the control room. 

The lights were dimmed with a yellowish hue. In the corner, the Christmas tree sparkled. Your eyes traveled downward and saw that there was a small pile of presents underneath it. You had placed one or two parcels down there when you first set it up months ago, but the Doctor hadn’t noticed. You figured he would open them when he was ready. 

The Doctor looked at you expectantly, a wide smile taking over his face. You couldn’t help but notice how adorable he was when he got excited.

“Happy Christmas,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around the Doctor’s middle. 

“Happy Christmas!” he cheered back, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head. You smiled softly, grateful that the dim lighting could hide your embarrassment. 

“Come on,” he ushered, running over to the tree excitedly, “open your present.” 

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” you blushed, fiddling with your fingers anxiously. The Doctor shook his head in disagreement, “Nonsense.” He placed a brilliantly wrapped package in your hands. You took a moment to turn it over in your hands, admiring the wrapping job. It was neat and perfect, the kind of wrapping you see in Christmas movies. It didn’t seem the Doctor’s style.

“You did this?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“I worked in a department store briefly.” he shrugged without further explanation, “Open it!” He explained impatiently. 

As you slowly and carefully unwrapped the box, the Doctor continued talking. 

“Remember when we went to that abandoned mall?” He asked, a small glint sparking in his eye.

“The one that was infested with Weeping Angels?” you added with a shiver. It was lucky that the two of you even made it out of that one. You didn’t like thinking about it too much, it was the kind of adventure that left you with nightmares.

“Right, but that’s not the point,” he shook his head vigorously. “You talked about this store almost every mall had when you were a kid,” he grinned at you excitedly, proud of himself for remembering such a small detail. 

“Build-A-Bear?” you asked, sliding the rest of the wrapping paper off of the box.

“That one!” He cheered, snapping his fingers in recognition. “The one where they put the hearts in the bears.” 

You nodded as you opened the box, unsure why he was bringing this up now. When you saw what was inside it became very clear. A gasp escaped your lips as your fingers ghosted around the object in the box.

“Doctor,” you cried, your eyes widening. 

“It made me wonder if I could get you one with two hearts,” he grinned cheekily.  

Your hands squeezed around the bear's chest, and sure enough, there were two hearts inside. “The workers looked at me like I was insane,” He laughed, “The paws are TARDIS blue too,” he pointed out. 

You turned the bear over in your hands, a tear pricking your eyes. 

“Do you like it?” The Doctor asked quietly, scared that it wasn’t as amazing of a gift as he had previously assumed. 

“It’s perfect,” you sniffled, clutching the bear to your chest. It reminded you of the Doctor, of your home on the TARDIS. It was one of the sweetest, most thoughtful gifts that you had ever received. 

You felt a surge of love and threw yourself into the Doctor’s arms, burying your face in his neck. He smelled so much like himself, a scent that had become familiar to you over time.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your warm breath fanning his skin. The Doctor beamed, more than happy that he could make you happy. He could feel his hearts quickening and hoped that you wouldn’t notice.

“I’m glad,” he smiled softly, resting his head in your hair. 

“This puts my gift to shame,” you groaned, pulling away. 

The Doctor looked at you with interest as you fished out your poorly wrapped parcel from under the tree. Compared to the Doctor’s it was a mess - pieces of tape all over, and the paper was more crinkled together than folded. 

“That’s for me?” He asked, shocked that you had gotten him anything. He looked at the parcel like it was the best-wrapped present in the world. 

“Yes, you stupid spaceman,” you teased, handing him the present. He looked down at it with love, running his fingers across the smooth wrapping paper. He couldn’t remember the last time someone got him a present. 

“Go on, open it,” you urged, leaning closer to him with an expectant grin. 

Carefully, so as not to rip the paper, the Doctor unwrapped the small box. Then, he gently lifted the top to reveal his present. Inside, there were three silken ties with stunning patterns etched into the fabric. 

“I got them when we went to that space market,” you explained, “I figured you could use some new ones.” 

“They’re silk,” he gasped, his hands brushing over the fabric lightly. 

You nodded meekly, “A bit nicer than your usual ones.” 

The Doctor looked up at you with a lopsided grin, his hand still running over one of the ties. 

“Help me put it on?” He asked. You laughed, finding the request obscure since he was in pajamas. It felt silly to put a silk tie on over a sleep shirt.

“Sure,” you said anyway, taking the tie from his hands. He had picked out the dark blue one, and if you looked closely you could see delicate ivy leaves patterned on the fabric. Your fingers worked gently and nimbly to knot the tie around his neck, sliding it up gently. 

“There,” you smiled, patting it down so it lay flat. 

The Doctor knew how to tie his own ties. Frankly, he was probably better at it than you. Even still, any chance he got he asked you to do it for him. He’d never admit it, but he liked the proximity of it. Even more, he liked how you bit your lip in concentration as you delicately knotted the fabric together. 

“How do I look?” 

“Handsome,” you smiled brightly. You could have sworn you imagined a rose-colored blush spreading across his cheeks at your compliment, but he turned away before you could be sure. 

“Thank you,” he smiled, taking your hand so he could cradle it gently. 

“You’re very welcome,” you whispered, looking down in embarrassment.

“How about breakfast?” He asked, already excited to move on to the next activity. You watched wide-eyed as he jumped up from his seat, offering a hand to you.

“You made breakfast?” you asked, eyes narrowing. The last time he tried to cook he forgot about the oven and burned the TARDIS kitchen down. The time before that, he left cookies in for way too long and made them all kinds of crispy.

He nodded, “proper English breakfast. Not burned this time.” 

“Really?” you raised an eyebrow, not wanting to get your hopes up.

“Yes,” he laughed, wiggling his outstretched fingers at you. Taking the hint, you grabbed his hand to follow him. 

Sure enough, he had managed to make breakfast without burning anything. Anything that you could see or smell, that is.

“How did you..?” you asked with amazement, looking down at the perfectly cooked meal in front of you. The Doctor just winked in response, leaving you wondering where the food really came from. 

“Also!” He said, cutting off your questioning thoughts. “I found Christmas crackers!” He exclaimed cheerfully, brandishing two bright red crackers in his hands. 

“I love Christmas crackers!” you gasped, taking one from his hand. The Doctor smiled to himself, he knew you did, that’s why he got them. 

“Come on!” you grinned, holding out one end to the Doctor, “help me open it.” 

The Doctor smiled himself, it was hard not to when you were this happy. He helped you pull open both crackers. He even let you put one of the silly paper crowns on him. 

“They’re the best part,” you smiled, sliding one on top of his head. The Doctor looked up at you with thinly veiled adoration. 

“Are they?” He asked with a lopsided smile. 

You blushed and nodded before plopping back down in your seat, already scooping bits of food onto your fork. 

“Thank you for this,” you whispered, looking down into your food. 

“For what?” The Doctor laughed. 

“All of this,” you said, gesturing with your fork, “the tree, the present, the crackers.” 

“It was nothing,” The Doctor shook his head. To him, it really wasn’t much. He would do anything for you, making sure you had a good Christmas was just a small service.

“Thank you anyway,” you grinned, taking his hand gently. The Doctor smiled softly back at you and rubbed his thumb against the back of your hand comfortingly. 

“Best Christmas ever,” you beamed happily, and you meant it.

A/N: I hope you all have a wonderful holiday!!

#10th doctor x reader #10th doctor/reader #tenth doctor/reader #tenth doctor x reader #10th doctor #the tenth doctor #tenth doctor #doctor who #david tennant #fanfic #doctor who fanfiction #fanfiction #the doctor/reader #the doctor x reader #the doctor #new who #dr who #nuwho #christmas #festive #merry christmas #festive fic #doctor who fanfic #christmas with the doctor #doctor who bbc

[saintslewis]

“𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑”

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 — 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

˖ ࣪⭑ - pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!oc

˖ ࣪⭑ - summary: first date with the world’s newest married couple!

˖ ࣪⭑ - warnings: cursing, brand names, outfits descriptions, smau, typos.

˖ ࣪⭑ - saint’s team radio: aaannnnndddd we’re back! have quite a few wips so that took my time mainly lol. i truly love these two and i hope you guys do too 🥹. like i said, maybe i should make a schedule for this. hope you enjoy and let me know if you wanna be tagged 🤭.

pls do like, reblog and comment!

Tell me your thoughts guys!!!

masterlist

previous chapter

-

"what the fuck did we just do?" Nadia blurted out as she held the small but extremely expensive red bag in her shaking hand, her other hand over her mouth as she stared at it.

The man in question closed the car door to the backseats, making sure the two other shopping bags were secure. Climbing into the car, he looked at the frightened woman and desperately tried to hide his smile as she took small breaths. Eventually calming down with him typing on his phone, she reached into the deep red bag that read 'Cartier' and carefully took out the delicately wrapped boxes that held their respective wedding rings.

Walking into the luxurious store was a mission in itself as the newly married 'couple' had to pretend for the first time. With Lewis assuring her that it was usually empty during that specific time of day, Nadia tried to keep her cool together by entering the store she would only window shop from. Immediately when entering the private entrance, she could already feel the difference in the atmosphere, the quiet music through the hallways became a bit too overwhelming for her. What Nadia couldn't do was to understand what life she would be living from here on out, each step dragging the next as she watched the Harrods' security guards stand firm in their positions, guarding the gold elevator. Keeping within close proximity of each other, their arms would brush against each others from time to time and everytime she would glance at Lewis, he looked so unphased it was scary. It looked like he's been doing this for years.

As the two turned the corner and the jewellery store came into view, Nadia looked around at the other stores forming what seemed like a cul de sac within the store. The red and gold exterior of Cartier caught her eye and she and the man she was with gathered the workers and the customers attention. Giving a subtle nod and smile to both security guards standing on guard at the entrance, they opened the large Oakwood doors and a strong scent captivated her.

"Could I hold your hand?" Lewis asked quietly, holding his hand out for the younger woman to surprisingly grab onto in lightning speed. "My hands are really sweaty right now, I'm sorry." Nadia stressed. With their fingers intertwined and Lewis' cold rings managing to cool down her hand, he led into the shop where a sales associate was waiting patiently, gasping when she saw Lewis without his sunglasses and a woman standing next to him. Displaying a selling smile, the sales associate fixed her blazer and signaled to the security guards to close the doors.

"Mr Hamilton, what a pleasure to have you join us this afternoon. Greetings to the both of you. My name is Kim and I will be helping you today." Kim had said with a professional voice, leading them to her work desk near a counter showcasing diamonds and emeralds. "What brings you in today?" She asked, sitting on her desk chair and clearly directing the question towards Lewis. Before saying his words, Lewis knew that nothing he could say would be out these doors as the employees sign NDAs almost every week.

"Well, my wife couldn't find her ring at all for the past two weeks and rather decided to get a new one." He explained as he pulled out the chair for Nadia to sit before he did. The pure shock on the sales associate's face was borderline comedic, her jaw nearly dropping to the floor. "O-oh! Well, we definitely have a lovely range of wedding rings that would be suitable for the both of you, seeing as you guys are such a beautiful couple." Kim said with a shaky laugh, reaching to give them a look book for their purchase.

"I'll give you guys a couple of minutes to decide." And with that, the ever so young sales associate stood up from her assigned desk and left Nadia and Lewis to make their decision. Releasing a sigh she had kept in her from the moment they walked through the door, she looked at Lewis who just picked up the catalog and flipped through the pages.

"How are you so calm right now? My hands can't stop sweating, what the fuck." Nadia whisper-yelled, trying not to wipe her hands on anything near her whilst breathing through her nose. "I'm just used to this but it would've been nice if she wasn't so nervous." He shrugged his shoulders, leaning comfortably into the seat and his eyes scanning into the catalog. "Do you want to leave? Because we can. I really don't want you to be uncomfortable." Lewis suggested, placing his hand on her shoulder, somehow making her face him. Studying his face, she looked into his eyes as the sincerity poured out. He was worried, the fear literally showing through her but as she shifted her eyes to Kim who looked like she was coming over, a switch flipped in her.

Quickly grabbing the open catalog from the table, Nadia scanned the pages and landed on a ring that screamed at her with its luxury and simplicity. "Oh this is just stunning." She grinned, pointing at the picture of the ring. To say Lewis was surprised was an understatement but he could see what she was doing and it was smart. "It really is. Is this the one you want?" He asked, leaning close to her and noticed she didn't even move. Oh, she was really selling this.

"It's perfect." Nadia smiled so much so that her eyes closed.

-

"Wait so what do I say? Like happy 2 years or something?" Nadia asked, turning her body in the car seat to face Lewis. The two hadn't even put the rings on yet but they already were planning what to post on instagram.

"No clue. Did you choose what to post? Tia is bugging me about that." He said, sighing out for the umpteenth time that afternoon. Snapping her eyes at the man, he caught the look she sent him then clarified that she was his main pr manager. "I think I'll go with the flow when I choose the pictures." Awkwardly enough, Lewis and Nadia exchanged phone numbers and had to share a few photos with each other to have something to post for the world.

"You know, your dad mentioned that we should tell our friends before we tell the world." She said, slumping her head back into the surprisingly soft headrest. "Yeah. Uh my friends are in town so we could probably do something with them and announce it there." Lewis said, scratching at his hair out of nerves. He never was someone who got nervous often but this entire situation kept playing on his mind.

"Alright then. Home time?" He suggested, watching her nod before he even finished his sentence. He soon drove off with her address already on the car display, watching her as she admired the streets of London. They both knew this was going to be a long journey but it was worth helping each other out as their friendship began to bloom.

"Lewis?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you actually do for work? I feel like we've been talking about my job so much that I haven't taken the chance to know what you do. Y'know, besides shopping at Cartier so much that the workers recognise you." She asked, facing the car window and looking out as they passed through Central London. "Well um, I work in Formula One and it's been my..thing for the past 30 years." He revealed as he stopped at the red light, people from outside most definitely couldn't see inside the car even they tried.

"30? Oh my god, they had you working at 2?!" For this, Nadia sat up and looked at Lewis in astonishment, making him burst out laughing. "How old do you think I am?" He could barely get the question before giggling once again. "I thought you were at least 32. How are you older than 32?" Fully facing him now, Nadia couldn't believe what she was hearing because in her eyes, his features were very youthful (similar to hers but she didn't want to brag). "I'm 38, January 7th." Lewis said, giving her a closed smile.

Racking everything that she just learned about him, it all came back to her. Most Fridays when her students (whoever had History that time) would request to watch anything F1 related whilst she focused on something else or when the name 'Hamilton' was constantly thrown around between the last few minutes of classes almost every week. Even the 4 years she's been teaching at the same school, they would make a big deal every July before schools closed for the race in Silverstone and constantly cheer on the same British driver, Hamilton. Her new last name.

"Are you good? you went quiet on me for a second." Lewis glanced at Nadia as she had a slight pout on her face as she looked straight ahead, clearly her concentration face. "Just realised that most of my students adore you, borderline obsessed with you." She muttered but he heard her loud and clear. "And I don't know shit about you except that you drive super fast cars on weekends." She began clicking her nails as a way to distract her from her busy mind. "Okay, how about we go on a fake date after we tell the world about our marriage to get to know one another so we can understand our new lives now. Is that okay with you?" Lewis suggested and truly, Nadia's heart swelled a little.

"Can I dress up or will I be judged for that?"

"Anything you want."

The next day.

"Wait. I'm confused. Your PR lady wants to have a meeting with me when? After we launch? Because I'm gonna be really busy with my students tomorrow." Nadia was extremely stressed and rightfully so. After everything happened yesterday, it was time to worry about the logistics of this 'relationship.'

"Tia said she's around London now so maybe you two could meet at a café somewhere in case you're not uncomfortable with her being at your place but she preferred to do it before everything gets crazy." Lewis spoke over the phone. Nadia kept quiet for a few moments as she skimmed over a few facts about Lewis on her laptop. "Wait, you were knighted?" She asked, seeing the photo of Lewis with the badge she recognise as the one that knights usually get. "Are you looking me up right now?" The laugh threatened to come out as he slowed down on the treadmill. "What? I wouldn't." Nadia closed the laptop with speed as if he could see what she was doing.

"Uh huh... anyways, should I forward her number to you or should I make the call?" Lewis pretended as if the biggest smile didn't paint his face at that very moment. "Just send it to me and I'll probs invite her over. We'll talk later then." The two said their goodbyes and went back to whatever it was they were doing.

Placing her phone down next to her on the couch, she sat in silence as it all dawned on her. The man she is legally married to is one of the world's most famous athletes with millions and millions of supporters. Spending almost the whole morning researching anything she needed to know, her chest wanted to close in as she looked at everything from stats from his long ass F1 career to his businesses and social life and they didn't call him the busiest driver for nothing. Lewis never seemed like the type of person to relax and chill from the number of things he does in a day. From Fashion weeks to visiting labs for one of his many projects, it was going to be tough to adjust to his lifestyle whilst still being a full time high school teacher but she was willing to do so, to help a friend.

-

"Again, I'm so sorry for this sudden ambush on you. You're so lovely." Tia apologised once again, making Nadia hold her hand as she shook her head.

The dandelions that Tia brought over were sitting pretty in an empty vase on the living room table, making the room smell so fresh. Tia was definitely a few years younger than Nadia, shown by her enthusiastic energy as soon as she stepped into the apartment.

"So to just get to the gist of it all, you're entering the world of fame without knowing what exactly goes into it. You're gonna need a team, security intel, a refurbished social media look, probably a new bank account and a new address." Tia said, pulling out a notebook from her tote bag. "For now, I'll be your pr manager along with Lewis'. Please just know that this fake marriage idea was a collective decision by the rest of our team because of the scandals that have just been coming our way. I hope I'm not scaring you?"

"Girl, I'm scared as shit right now. What do you mean new address?" Nadia vocalised as her right leg bounced repeatedly. "So in order to make this believable, you'll have to move in with him and we've proposed that you say that you've been secretly married for 2 years. I know that you're going to meet with his friends soon and y'know that date? It has to be tonight because I know you have work tomorrow." Tia flipped her silk press over her shoulder as she placed her hands on the now closed notebook.

Nadia's jaw wanted to drop to the floor but she tried to seem calm as her eyes darted anywhere from Tia.

"So you and I can get ready for this date like we can go shopping, hair and nails then in the evening, he picks you up. How does that sound?" Tia smiled, already packing up her bag.

"Uh-"

"Perfect! Let's go."

-

"Breathe in and out, Nads. In and out." She quietly told herself as she paced up and down her room, the uncomfortable ysl heels clacked against the floor. Constantly checking if the little black dress wasn’t showing anything that didn’t need to shown.

The Cartier box sat perfectly on her dresser, staring at her and waiting to be opened. Eventually gaining the courage to open it, she gently picked up the ring and slid it onto her ring finger, feeling its weight slightly. Lifting her hand to the lamp, she watched as the diamond glistened, matching the charms and rhinestones on her fresh nails.

Even music couldn’t help her calm down as she anxiously waited for Lewis to say that he’s outside, palms becoming clammy at the thought of going on a ‘date’ with someone as famous as Lewis. The research she did on him was one similar to someone entering a fandom as she tried to remember basic information about her husband.

Walking over to her full length mirror, she scanned over her outfit once more and did quick breathing exercises to calm her down. She did a quick smile and walked out of her room, not forgetting her trusty fluffy slides in case she got tired of her heels.

Whilst taking a few pictures, the knock on her door startled her. Rushing to open up, she carried her new purse and touched her hair a little bit as she reached for the door handle.

The smell of roses mixed with the scent of Lewis’ cologne greeted first as the big bouquet of flowers blocked his face.

“Oh wow…” Nadia muttered as she reached to take the sunset orange roses out of his tattooed arms. Securely holding the bouquet, she looked up to observe the man and his look nearly took her breath away. The soft pastel colours of his sweater vest were matching quite well with the lilac slacks he had on, going casual with the air force ones and not to mention the jewellery that somehow emphasised the cozy yet fashionable style he was going for. It genuinely looked like he was going on a date and so did Nadia. His braids were tied back into a low ponytail and his diamond earrings sparkled quite nicely, the wedding ring he bought himself making an appearance as he lifted his hand to scratch his neck a little.

“Well good evening, Mrs.” Lewis greeted with the slyest smile on his face once he realised that Nadia was indeed checking him out. “Don’t give me that smile, Mr.” She rolled her eyes before turning around and placing the flowers in the kitchen. Seeing as she had everything she needed on her, she walked right back to the front door where he was patiently waiting for her. “Let me hold these for you.” He offered, opening his large hands to take her purse and slippers.

“You sure?”

“We’ve got quite a few flights of stairs to get through. Also, where are your neighbours? It seems like such a quiet building.” Lewis asked, curious as he looked at the closed doors they passed in the hallways towards the stairs.

“It’s mainly small families or students who just always mind their business and close themselves in by this time. It only really get noisy during sports weekends and spontaneous fights.” Nadia said, telling him a bit more about her odd neighbours as they eventually reached the same G wagon she saw yesterday.

He could listen to her talk about literally anything for hours, he told himself as he opened the car door for her, placing her stuff next to her. “Just so you know, there’s going to be some media where we’re headed, thanks to Tia so we just walk quickly whilst waving a little then we enter. Is that okay?” He asked, leaning against the open car door and his right arm caged her in a little. As much as she was distracted by how he was looking at her whilst standing like that, she nodded, somehow losing the voice that was there literally there a few minutes before.

-

“I have to compete with Nicki Minaj?!” She whisper-yelled as she leaned closer to him in the private booth that faced the rest of the restaurant. Already, the two had caused quite a stir as soon as they exited the car with the paparazzi rapidly throwing questions at each of them, barely giving them a chance to smile and wave as they planned. The security (both Lewis’ and the restaurants) helped them in and to the customers surprise, they entered in with confidence. Them holding hands really sold for everyone, the two waving to fans using their left hands before being escorted to the private booth.

“Well no you don’t have to anymore. It was just a…thing a few years ago.” Lewis said, taking a sip of his drink before leaning back against his chair. “But still! Like your fans literally know you with well known women so what are they even going to do with me?” Rightfully so, Nadia was stressed. This was a big commitment and already she was regretting it.

“I have a feeling that they will love you. As long as you aren’t a complete weirdo then they’ll most likely accept you. Well that’s what someone on Twitter said after hearing about a supposed fling I had with someone.” He assured. He seemed so calm about this and it freaked her out.

“Supposed?”

“Yup. Plus I’m now married to you so everything will swept up under a rug, y’know? Remove any bullshit rumours going on.” He said, sipping his drink once again.

“Again, how are you so calm about this, bruv? Feel like i’m sweating bullets here.” She breathed out, slightly fanning herself even though there was air conditioning in their booth.

“Is that who I am now? Bruv?” He asked, giggling as he looked at her amusingly.

“That is definitely your contact name. Oh! You have to meet my kids, that’s where I get it from.” Nadia spoke, taking a fry from her plate, the food the waiter brought over a while ago.

“Year 8?”

“Nope. Only Year 11 and 12. It was part of the ‘promotion’ but I only studied further to teach Year 8 so right now I’m winging it with my kids and it seems to be going pretty good. They’re excelling.” Nadia chatted, proudly talking about her students.

“You were meant to be a teacher, I swear. The glint in your eyes was so adorable when you spoke about them.” Lewis smiled, also eating his meal.

“Okay, don’t make me blush old man.” She scoffed with a little chuckle making Lewis laugh fully.

“Anyways, where am I gonna live? Tia was very adamant about me moving out to make it look super real.” Nadia changed the subject so quickly, as if it was lightning.

“My main residence is in Monaco but because of what I do, I tend to travel for two months at a time so I’ve got a few houses in another countries. So you can choose where you want to live really. Personally though, I can tell you love your job so this will be a bit tough for you but I get where she’s coming from.” Lewis informed, eating his pesto as if he didn’t just shake up her life a little.

“Oh. I’m gonna have to speak to my higher ups about this. Obvie, I won’t tell them the whole thing but can you give me a week to figure it out? Because it’s also salary that’s no longer gonna be there once I start travelling with you.” Nadia brought up, pinching her leg as thoughts raced through her mind.

“Sure, take as much time as you need because I get that this is a lot. I have a house near Wembley, that’s where I’ve been staying since I arrived so that’s my proposal to you.” He informed, watching her slowly eat her food.

“Well, there wasn’t a proposal to begin with, pookie bear.” Nadia joked, biting down on the fork as she giggled.

“That nickname, Nads.” Lewis giggled at her joke, knowing that she was going to be a joy to be around.

-

nadiahamilton

liked by randomstudent, tia.henderson and 538 others

nadiahamilton 2 years down, a lifetime to go 🤍

tagged: lewishamilton

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randomstudent MISS???? HELLOO???

user oh history is gonna be FUN tmr

lewishamilton my love 💗

nadiahamilton mwah!! 😚

user ma’am you’re joking????? WHAT

nella_rose yo, i leave for a bit and you’re married??? congrats babe omg 😭

user yo miss, what is a 8x world champion doing in your post?

nadiahamilton being my husband :)

randomuser whatever you manifested, GIVE IT

fanpage HE’S MARRIED

15 minutes ago

lewishamilton

liked by charles_leclerc, badgalriri and 10,828,929 others

lewishamilton forever and then some with you 🤍

tagged: nadiahamilton

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user NO FUCKING WAY

user well that’s one way to hard launch!

charles_leclerc 😧

lewishamilton 🤣

fencer congratulations on two years brother! 🩷

lewishamilton thank you bro 🫂

nadiahamilton it’s bruv to you 🤨

lewishamilton happy 2 years with my bruv 🫡

nadiahamilton much better 😚

user SHE’S HOT AND FUNNY???? WE’RE SO DOOMED

user and she’s not famous like at all

gigihadid where’s this beautiful woman you’ve been hiding????

nadiahamilton hello Gigi 🤭

gigihadid oh we’re so grabbing lunch soon

user wait so no one knew of her?? not even the drivers ???😭

landonorris MOM?

nadiahamilton hi son?

danielricciardo you don’t just hard launch on us on a random Sunday 😭

lewishamilton oh well, meet my wife! :)

user he really said no more rumours lol

user OMG THATS MY TEACHER HELLO?!

user WHAT

user YEAH THATS MY HISTORY TEACHER

mercedesamgf1 Mrs Mercedes? 🥹

mercedesamgf1 boss man says hi and congratulations! 🥳

fanpage noooo you can’t be married ☹️

user girl get a GRIP

badgalriri oh she’s SEXY

lewishamilton ri, pls don’t steal my wife

nadiahamilton TOO LATE

user the next media day is going to have a BLAST when he shows up 😭

10 minutes ago

taglist: @non-stop-imagines @folkloresthings @tispys-blog @userlando @lorarri @thisismeracing @thatsdemko @myescapefromthislife @slytherinjimin3nthusiast @jamie2305 @like-fire-love-blog @sugardontbesweet @simpfortoomanymen @mauvecherie-writes @queenshikongo3 @eugene-emt-roe @deepgothfiremuffin @18754389 @cherry2stems @anubisnoir @littlelizzies-world @httpsserene @apenasumlug4r @youre-sooooo-funny @eddiesbitch83 @arshiyuh @alika-4466 @peyiswriting

(if your acc is blank, that means that tumblr didn’t allow me to tag you/show your account)

dividers by: @cafekitsune

nadia’s fc: @/unclewaffles_ on ig!

all pic creds go to pinterest and insta!

#☆ ‧₊˚ saint’s media pen #formula one x black reader #f1 x reader #x black fem reader #x black reader #formula one x reader #f1 x you #f1 x oc #f1 x black!reader #fake dating #f1 fic #lewis hamilton fanfics #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x oc #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton x black reader

[percervall]

Mamma mia, here I go again {pt2}

Summary: A summer of poor decisions leads you to having to face the consequences of your actions —and the men involved. Pairing: Kevin Magnussen x fem!reader, Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption and one night stands, Mark being a tease and a flirt, discussions surrounding pregnancy Word count: 1.2k Taglist: @averagef1fansblog @barcelonaloverf1life @bradfordbantams @dannyramirezwife @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @goldsainz @iloveneteyam @jaypreshpresh @laura-naruto-fan1998 @monzamash @norrisleclercf1 @opheliaas-stuff @roseseraj @vellicora

Part 2 of the Mamma Mia series

By the time evening rolls around, you’re exhausted. You somehow managed to make it through the rest of the day without losing your job or murdering George since he was smart enough to stay away from you. A few of the screenshots had made their way to you, and if it wasn’t you they were gossiping about, it would’ve been funny. Dressed in a pair of sweat shorts and a baggy T-shirt, you fall back on the bed, staring at the ceiling until a knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts. Sighing, you get up to open it.

“You’re the first one, come on in,” you say, stepping aside to let Lewis in. 

“Got you some sweet treats,” he replies, handing you a box that smells divine. It has your stomach growling with the realisation you skipped dinner. 

“Thanks,” you offer, feeling touched he went out of his way to get this for you. You place the box on the desk, taking the lid off to peruse the selection of baked goods. 

“So Kevin knows, huh?” Lewis asks as he takes a seat on one of the chairs. 

“Sort of?” you say through a mouthful of muffin. Before you can answer any more of his questions another knock sounds. Opening it, you’re greeted by a grinning Mark Webber.

“Oh sweetheart if you wanted a mouthful, all you had to do was ask,” he says instead of a hello. You roll your eyes as you swallow.

“You’re such a filthy man, get your mind out of the gutter.” 

“Baby, you love me filthy.” You groan at his comeback and wave him through. You can hear him exchange pleasantries with Lewis behind you while you wait in the door opening when you spot Kevin making it out of the lift. 

“Promise me no punching. I will explain everything, but please…” you warn him when he’s in front of you. You can see the muscle in his jaw tick when he hears two male voices coming from inside the room but he nods before walking inside. You close the door behind him and lean against it. 

“And to think I have to have this conversation sober..” you mumble. Taking a deep breath, you walk back into your hotel room where you find Kevin on the other chair next to Lewis and Mark on the desk chair. 

“Okay,” you sigh as you sit down cross legged on the bed, “Before I explain why all three of you are here, I need you all to refrain from making comments. Whatever derogatory term you’re thinking, know that my self-worth has already called me all of them.” You look up at all of them, seeing very mixed reactions. Kevin looks apprehensive but nods, Lewis gives you a soft smile while Mark just smirks. 

“So,” you start, picking at a loose thread on your shorts, “After Spa a couple of things happened. Kevin and I had an argument about my loyalties with regards to our… situationship.. So instead of celebrating my team getting a podium, I was drowning my sorrows in the hotel bar where Lewis found me, which led to flirting, and kissing and… And to me sleeping with him. Oh Jesus.. I was still so angry at Kevin for some of the things he said and so when I bumped into Mark in the hotel lobby the next day, I just.. I guess I fell back into old habits? Sadly for me, Mark is my worst habit and I swore I had given you up when you walked out on me in 2013 but my pussy is a traitor, what can I say?” You take another deep breath and find the courage to look up. “And then later that same day Kevin and I talked things through, put all the cards on the table. We decided to give us another go and celebrated accordingly, even though we then decided to call it quits at the end of the summer break. So yeah, one of you is the father and I have no idea who, but none of that matters anyway because I am not keeping it.” They’re all quiet for a moment as they take in this information. The three men share a look that you can’t place.

“Why don’t you want to keep the baby?” Kevin asks you, and you see the hurt in his eyes. One of the reasons you decided to call it quits was your vastly different timelines for starting a family; Kevin wanted nothing more than to be a father but you didn’t want to put your career on hold just yet despite knowing that at 33 time was starting to run out. 

“Being a single mum is hard enough, but being a single mum in this industry? With all the travelling? And then the financial responsibility.. I can’t in good conscience bring a child into this world knowing I can’t give them what they deserve.” 

“What if you didn’t have to do it alone?” Lewis asks, leaning forward. You scoff at that. 

“I’m being serious, My. What if?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe? But who’d date a woman who has turned her life into the plot of a Mamma Mia prequel?” 

“I would,” Lewis, Kevin, and Mark manage to say as one. 

“What?” You’re pretty sure the exhaustion is playing tricks on you and you mistook their answers.

“Sweetheart, we are all smitten with you. Who wouldn’t be? You’re smart, funny. Sexy,” Mark adds with a wiggle of his eyebrows that has you rolling your eyes.

“So, what? We’re gonna play house together?” You are genuinely so confused. How is this ever going to work out? Surely you can’t date three men at once, that’s ridiculous.

“I wouldn’t call it ‘play house’,” Lewis says, looking at Kevin and Mark, “but yeah. Let us prove to you that we can make this work.” 

“You’re all insane. When this gets out -because it is when, not if- the media is gonna have a field day. I can only imagine the headlines, “Paddock whore slept her way to the top”. Yeah, no. No way,” you scramble, panic rising in your throat. 

“Fuck what the media says. Nine out of ten times it’s bullshit anyway,” Mark says. 

“Leave all of that out of the equation. Would three men taking you on dates really be the worst thing?” Kevin asks you. You groan and bury your face in your hands. You know the answer to this, you know they know you know the answer to this. 

“I guess not..” you mutter.

“So let us woo you. Give us two months and if by the end of it you genuinely don’t feel a spark, no hard feelings,” Mark offers, leaning forward.

“Yeah, you can still decide then whether you want to keep the baby,” Kevin adds. You mull this over as you fidget with the hem of your T-shirt. Two months would give you until the end of the season to decide, but it would also mean having to continue with this pregnancy that you’re still unsure of is a good idea. 

“One month. And I will cancel the appointment.” 

“Deal,” they once again say in unison. The only thing going through your head is oh God, what have I done? 

Yeah, Kevin is going through it rn, poor man

Let me know your thoughts! Your comments, tags and likes mean the world to me

#f1 fanfic #kevin magnussen x reader #kevin magnussen x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #mark webber x reader #mark webber x you #mamma mia fic

[valyrfia]

charles tyre masterclass at suzuka!!!! where the track temp was so high that even max was struggling!!! just a superstar - have known this since 2021 but pirelli head did not call him one of the three best drivers on tyre management for nothing (other two being ofcourse max and lewis)

also what was that strategy disaster from mclaren - how did they lose two positions with lando. happened twice for him. feel bad because he was pulling some brilliant moves today

The fact that Carlos asked Max in the cooldown room whether he would do a one-stop and Max was like "sure but like....why the hell would you" (paraphrased). What Charles pulled off today was a masterclass that very few drivers are capable of pulling off and proved why Ferrari were right to put their faith in him! I mean, look at Carlos attempting to stretch the tyres the same before he second stop. Exact same conditions as Charles, but Charles managed to hold on for 6-7 laps longer.

McLaren did not cook today. Why they didn't wait for Charles to pit and instead choose to box with Charles is beyond me. It's a shame because Lando did drive well! The strategy and the car was just not able to match Ferrari.

#charles leclerc #japanese gp 2024 #formula 1 #lando norris

[lovesickry]

- let the light in.

┈⋆⭒ lando norris x rival femdriver!reader [2.9k] ┈⋆⭒ part 2 !

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⎯ find all parts here! ˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⎯ contains: suggestiveness? swearing .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⎯ a/n: this is me trying to be SLOW BURN. ................ comment if you wanted be added to taglist x

race day race day race day race day.

the only string of coherent things running through your mind as you reluctantly pulled yourself out of bed, into reality. the morning was a mess of meetings and media that seemed to go on forever. before you finally got ready to get in the car. it was ritualistic now, fireproofs slipping over your head, the sound of mechanics talking and radio checks. the smell.

-

everything about it screamed perfected discipline. this why you loved what you did.

the routine of it all, no matter the weekend before, you could always come back to this and it would be the same. that’s what you loved.

media was for the most part uneventful, only being stopped to ask if i thought i’d snag a podium, you responded with a “why not”, for good measure, because truly why not? there were a few whispers about Miami but nothing too loud and you went about your “preparations”, you wanted the podium too, more than last time. you needed it, needed to proof it wasn’t just once, and you were ready to fight tooth and nail, you had accepted that yes you weren’t getting first, no fucking way we’re you getting past max but you could hope for a second or third.

“radio check”

“yup. lovely, perfect sounding wonderful this afternoon”

“haha yeah alright dylan thanks, good luck”

“let’s do it”

the final words before the lights turn on and then off, hitting the throttle as soon as that light goes. the start is a blur it always is, but you manage to get up a place on carlos at the start going around the first corner. you hold the position for the starting laps, mainly fighting with charles, who appears to be struggling with a tires a bit.

“leclerc is swerving all over the place”

“yeah copy we know”

carlos is getting closer and there’s nowhere for you to go, he overtakes on the outside of turn 11 and you’re disappointed but you saw it coming, you’d started on the mediums and you hadn’t warmed them up yet completely, you’d get him back. going into the straight you see charles slowly pull his car off to the side and go into the grass, coming to a complete stop.

“is charles out?”

“yes he’s pulled out, issue with the suspension”

well there you go, gained a place anyway, carlos goes into the pits soon after and you’re looking once again at the back of max’s car. toto comes on to tell you that it’s mainly a fight between you and lewis because ferrari fucked their pit stop and carlos is way back on the pack, cool great, just battle a 7 time world champion, all good.

“thanks” you say. you could handle lewis. by handle you meant defend as best you could until he eventually overtook you, but hey, ferrari was basically off the podium and max hadn’t pitted just yet.

“gap to hamilton 1.2”

“and behind lewis”

“gap to norris 2.7”

you don’t know how the fuck he’d managed to pull his shitty McLaren into P4 but you’d be fucking damned if he stole another set of points from you. going into lap 41, you started to lose grip a fair bit.

“who’s hasn’t pit?”

“lewis, verstappen, norris, perez and ocon”

“can i box”

“confirm box for hards”

“confirm box”

if you couldn’t beat them, you could beat them later, undercut was a favourite of yours and hoping you’d come out just behind perez who was currently holding P5, they’d all have to put eventually, putting you in the assured lead. everyone had started on hards and were pitting for medium compound, so you’d make to make up time if you wanted to get out in front on the hards. you come out P6 and focus heavily on warming the tires, liking anything more than the feeling of fresh hard tires. after about five laps of holding position the tires started to heat and people began to lose grip and pit, turning out of the chicane you saw perez go into the wall, now it was you, behind lando, behind lewis, behind max. there wasn’t much of a chance for intense overtaking in the circuit, but lando pitted that lap and you were p4, by lap 59, everyone had pitted and you were leading the race, just as you had predicted, though max and lando were as your engineer reminded you, heavy behind.

“verstappen has DRS”

fuck, there was seriously nothing you could do, four laps to go and you know max has already won.

“give him the position”

so you do, max passes you and now it’s just you ahead of lando ahead of lewis. you can hold this, you think, whether it’s your pride or sheer adrenaline, you push harder. the second last lap you think that he’ll try and overtake but he’s too busy defending lewis he doesn’t. you cross the line ahead of your teammate and ahead of lando.

“that’s P2 dylan”

“YES YES YES FUCK THANK YOU”

“you deserved it, spectacular drive mate”

your beaming as you drive into parc femme and pull yourself out of the car, max walks over to congratulate you and you pull him into a swift hug, max wasnt the villian that the media made him out to be and he was a good friend to you, he pulls away and slaps you on the back.

“bout time”

you laugh and see lando walking up to you both, giving max a hug and swiftly walking past you, god you hope nobody saw that. you hug all the team members at mercedes and then see lewis, he pulls you into a big hug before pulling away gesturing there’s someone to see you, your brother is standing away from the crowd waiting for you. you run into his arms and he’s chanting in your ear. you break apart and he can’t see through your visor but there’s tears in your eyes.

“mum and dad can go suck a bag of dicks that they didn’t come”

you laugh and clutch your stomach, he was telling the truth, your parents were exactly “proud” of your career, shocking i know but nevertheless. you were just happy you had max to be honest, he was the one who took you to all your karting competitions, the one who signed all the papers, accompanied you to all the races. you wouldn’t be here without him. you pull him into one last hug before speeding off to the briefing room.

“see you on the podium” he shouts, you don’t know why but you smile even wider.

you take off your helmet and max and lando are already sitting down discussing the race. the highlights were playing on the TV and lando and max “oohed” and “ahhed” at everything. max was ushered out by his PR officer before you and lando were, which resulted in an awkward 10 second silence that you were happy to continue but lando was not.

“didn’t know you were so affectionate” he turns to you, leaning over his chair.

“what?” you laugh.

“your little friend after the race”

oh this is fucking rich.

you throw your head back and actually you think you nearly die from laughter.

“you mean my brother” you say, quite matter of factly.

“you watch everything i do norris?”

he doesn’t responds

“what are you jealous?” you say sarcastically.

there’s a fucking cat in the room with A STEEL GRIP on his tongue. he’s not saying anything.

“you fucking wish” he finally says

“oh do i?”

he’s about to concoct a response when you see your PR officer walk in, your sign to leave, you throw him the finger behind your back as you leave and you don’t turn to see whether he does it back, being taken out on to stage.

-

the adrenaline hasn’t stopped and standing on that step looking out at everyone: You had forgotten everything that had ever hurt you or made you angry because you were fucking standing here and that was it. lando comes out and you ignore the initial glare he gives you, facing forward, hands behind your back as the dutch anthem plays. you are handed your trophy and try not to sag when heavier than you expected, launching it into the air best you can as you hear the deafening cheers from the mercedes team, you even spot your brother amongst them pointing at you and recording you smile back. then comes the fun bit, max pops his champagne first and comes over to you, obligingly you swallow and let max drench you in the champagne before popping your own and doing the same to him. lando seems to be annoyed he’s missing out and pours his down the back of max’s neck before spraying it all over your face, you’d be angry if you weren’t so fucking happy but to be honest right now, you didn’t care. y tipping the whole thing over his head, repaying the favour you try and ignore the feeling you get seeing the liquid drip down parts of his face gathering at his nose, you're sure its the adrenaline. after each of your champagne is drained and you're all relatively soaking from it, they gather you in the middle for photos. max is in the middle and you use the opportunity as payback for landos stunt on Thursday, reaching your back hand over to his neck and just firmly pulling and holding at the ends of his hair there. his face twitches slightly but he doesn't show much. the only sign its affecting him is his jaw clenching. you know its childish and frankly immature but you just wanted him to feel how stupid he made you feel. something harmless, but annoying.

he leans behind max, "like my hair that much"

you don't respond, simply withdrawing your hand and letting it drop to your side as you're escorted off stage. media is achingly painful, saying the same five sentences to every. single. interviewer. thanking the team, praising the car, the strategy, the engineer, everything going in the favour, sorry to Charles and Carlos etc;

its just coincidence that you manage to hear a bit of Lando's interview, "yeah I think at the end there I could've overtaken, but yeah I mean, I was focusing on defending more-so than attacking, but if it had been different I think I could've overtaken Dylan."

oh could he now? you walk behind him, making it clear that you've just heard what he said, walking through the paddock you come into contact with Danny, he hadn't scored any points but he was happy to see you congratulating you on points and giving you a hug before excusing himself due to his exhaustion. his eyes looked red and you'd wondered if he was as hard on himself as you thought. media had finished for the day, but there was still a spiel of meetings to attend.

after about the fifth meeting, regarding god knows what, you approach lewis posing the question on whether hes going out tonight, Spain was one of the GP's, amongst Monaco where there was a big "event" afterwards, event meaning everyone got blind drunk and delete their instagram stories the next morning. lewis said he was and you asked him if he wanted a lift, which he accepted gladly. you drove to the hotel and then got ready before leaving around 9 to hopefully get some pre-drinking in before some less then desirables arrived.

the bartender quickly became your friend as lewis ran away to some extremely famous people who you knew you were not in the circle to interact with, or the mindset. when Charles arrives you're on you third drink and hes followed in tow by Pierre and Carlos and Lando. you ignore greeting Lando and approach Charles and Carlos directly, glad there was finally someone to talk to who wasn't paid to. Charles who had missed you at the paddock congratulates you on your podium and leads you and the others to a booth area where he orders everyone rounds. your sat between him and lando, though you don't pay him much attention seeing that his leg is as far away from yours as he can get it without literally facing the other way. you nearly laugh, the way his behaviour changed so rapidly. after a while of what you thought was enough socialising you gesture to pierre (who always carrie’s cigarettes with him) to go outside and smoke, easing two fingers two your lips, doing a gesture as if your smoking. he laughs and nods and you go outside. you don’t know why drinking was always accompanied by smoking with you, it was just something that happened. you knew it was bad but it never became a problem on your real life, just in moments like these. you and pierre stand in the warm air outside, making casual conversation before he goes back inside, you go to follow him but figure one more can't hurt, wanting the time to yourself. time to yourself cut short however when you see lando saunter his way over to you. Jesus Christ.

"why are you obsessed with me?"

"didn't take you as a smoker tait." ignoring your previous statement,

you squint your eyes at him, its meant to be a dig but you don't think it hit as much as he wanted it to.

"want me to pull your hair again?" you tilt your head, breathing out.

"nah you enjoyed it too much"

that makes you laugh, small laugh under your breath, because yeah you did enjoy it, the way it made him squirm. that was enjoyable.

"yeah I did actually"

"fucking knew you wanted me"

you step toward him.

"yeah, want you to fuck off." its cruel, you know it secretly but he's as cruel as you were and it was about time you got some dignity back.

"hmmm" he nods, his face is closer to yours than you'd expected.

"yeah okay norris" you put his hands on his chest, pushing him away slightly to try and ease the tension that seems to be surrounding you, because this is very much not fucking happening. you turn to move back inside, safety in numbers and all.

"why are you running away then?" he says, watching you go.

inside is warmer than outside and claustrophobic, suddenly everyone is dancing and its a mess of bodies, you look for a familiar face and spot lily and Alex and figure that's a safe bet. you stand with them for a while, drink in hand, music so loud your legs feel like they're shaking. adrenaline still heavy in your blood from the podium hours earlier. you're reasonably tipsy when you make you way back to the hotel, figuring you'll safe yourself the headache tomorrow but enjoy tonight. pierre and kika came back with you but they were going somewhere else after stopping at the hotel. you get one more drink in the lobby before making your way to the elevator to go back to your room. you hit the button for your floor and settle into the left corner of the elevator, swaying from the alcohol, pulling your dress down as it had ridden up on the bar stool. it stops and you its not your level, someone else was getting it. dammit, look sober, you reset your posture, standing up straight, shoulders square and pull out your phone, pretend to be busy. you spot the shoes and you know who it is before you look up, HOW?

you'd managed to avoid him the whole time in the club after the outside interaction but now just as you thought you were safe, christ. in an enclosed space too, a fucking elevator, you were seriously unlucky. you bring your head up, eyes slightly droopy as he laughs at the state you're in, going to press the button but realising you already had. he stands next to you, spreading his arms out so his hands grazes yours and its weird the feeling that springs up at the brief touch. it feels like forever when the elevator doors finally ding and you both exit the doors, achingly walking the same fucking way.

he stops at his door and you don't know why you stop too.

"wanna come in and tell me how much you want me to fuck off?" he says it with a grin that makes you hate him and you don't know why in that exact moment you don't. you swallow, hard. fuck where did all the anger go, his hands plant themselves on your waist and you don't remember ever being angry, but no. what he said think about what he said. fucking hell, his hands are skimming your dress, focusing on the dip of your waist and then tracing your collarbone, up your neck. you could feel him everywhere, you wanted it. no you hated him.

your eyes are closed as you turn around and walk down the hallway towards your own room.

tag list:

@eviethetheatrefreak, @fairiesdowntheroad, @landosgirlxoxo, @hiraethrhapsody, @hockeyboysarehot @mcmuppet @honethatty12 @darleneslane @formula1mount @borntogayz @kodzuvk @potatos-on-clouds @jullamy @taytaythirteen 

#source: cafekitsune #f1 #f1 fic #lando norris #f1 x reader #f1 x you #lando norris fanfic #lando x reader #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fic #lando norris series #lando norris enemies to lovers #lando norris rivals #lando norris x you #lando norris angst

[cafeleningrad]

🔥 + any shipping discourse of your choosing :D

Oh boy, at a point I noticed that so many shipping wanks in fandoms just use the same circle of ad verbatim arguments just with a different coat of paint. And for the sake of enjoying my fandom experience I prefer to stay out of such discussions as good and often as possible.

BUT...

One development I don't get is the need of canonisation of shipping. I mean sure, who of us hadn't thought that a certain relationship would have improved/made more sense for a story, especially a character arc? Sometimes bittersweetness, unused potential, or unfullfilled longing makes sense for the plot, sometimes the author is an idiot (the eternal pain of enduring shounen manga endings written by men...). However... that is what fandom's for: The possibility of transformative versions, exploring ideas canon had space for, never intended, going silly, having fun. I would love to see my blorbos smooch each other but in the end that's free time enjoyment, nothing that I need to harass a creator/creative team over.

Whereas I do think that well written stories developing relationships that stray away from the standart het couple* can speak to people, and put a foot in the door for more stories being told by creators outside the standart Hollywood demographic, they are going to be usually not as popular in fandoms themselves. The reasons can be varied although my take would be it would be the invisible undercurrents of general dismissal of female characters, especially PoC female characters, a disinterest to engage outside of big IPs in first place. That's not me policing what kind of shipping would be the "🙏moral thing actually(TM)✨", fandom is for personal interest or fun in the first place. What I do find questionable is how the way that the language of social justice activism is coopted to argue why one's blorbos should smooch each other is beyond personal gratification actually also will singlehandedly be a deciding step in [add human right's movement of your choice here], adds another layer of annoying shipping culture. Certainly, it is mean how even acknowledgement of minorities has to compete against other demographic acknowledgement which also only has a chance to tolerated, and not even of large scale, in the accessible mainstream media. Still, I don't find it weird how, by example, the mere shipping (not even canon) of an interracial couple gets dismissed by other shipping groups as "no, the character is ✨gay✨, hun, no girls allowed".

I would maybe less irked by all that if so much shipping culture recently wouldn't push for "canonisation". having one ship next to the other or liking both ships could be a perfectly fine thing within fandom but the claim that one kind of ship would be better than the other in canon, without the consideration what cultural bagage comes with dismissing some kinds of relationships).

[*I mean two able bodied, cis, beauty standart guy and gal. Next to queer relationships (not excluding any intersection either),there's so much potential in talking about cross cultural relationships, dealing with disabilities or beauty standarts, or love in old age, generally love outside the model that "romance" occurs in fast food media only when the protagonist dude meets a conventionally attractive girl and they're obligated to fall for each other based on hormones boiling alone.]

In ill thoughts, I suspect that the wish for caonisation is only partly based of the distortion of fandom as activism space. (I mean when you spend all your life time on the web in fandom instead of going out creating or commissioning others to create the progressive work you want to see - or, very subversive, actually do activism and community support work yourself.)

Another the other reason I ill-mindedly speculate on is overindulgent wishfullfillment in two forms: A) A favourite blorbo gets so much projected on, they become a distorted fanon character yet have nothing to do with canon themes. This character then becomes a an altered Gary/Mary Sue doll the fandom created for itself, uses for dollplay whereas the canon does it's own thing. So what ever happens to thematical canon blorbo doesn't meet the ideal of fanon Frankenstein-blorbo and is met with anger. B) A Variation of the point above is selfprojection on the blorbo. Say when a blorbo becomes one's personal idol. Eg, like YA romance protagonists who're so suitable for reader inserts that one could easily think they themselves were the pretty sad girl with a hot love interest. The same can be observed in fandom where blorbos undergo the same doll-fication in a more personalized edition. Then character X isn't their canon self anymore, aggressive factions of fandom claim that X absolutely has to get together with the blorbo love interest - no matter the rest of the plot. (I wish the shipping wars during GoT season 8 were my only example but oh boy...!)

Speaking of the rest of the plot... I really dislike how overtaking shipping has become in fandom spaces. Certainly, makes more sense in romance centered fandoms but in in non-romance centered fandoms, it really bugs me how during the duration of shipping wars (and for all the flimsy excuses fandoms uses in the points above) it's impossible to talk about anything else, and how distorted fandom views can get about a certain kind of ship. Maybe, two blorbos smooching is not that world shattering as it personally feels.

(Yes, this is a reminder to myself by times when fandom gets too stupid. A reality check helps by times that people getting heated about two dimensional events is still leisure time whereas financial ends and deadlines need to be met, and honestly if something bugs me, the block function of users and/or tags is a great thing. Generally, we should log off more often but that's a topic for another day...)

#Lewis ranting #Lewis' ask box management #thank you for asking! It finally became a coherent text :')

[viennakarma]

Three is a party

Lewis Hamilton x Reader x Max Verstappen

Summary: Max hated you. He hated your pretty face, your beautiful body and your amazing personality. He hated that you were Hamilton’s girl.

Word count: 3.8k

Tags: Smut, female reader, +18, anal sex, unprotected sex, voyeurism, exhibtionism, edging, filthy, porn with very little plot, dom!lewis, sub!reader, sub!max, possibly queer! everyone, kinda polyamory situation, bit of dirty talking, pet names, not beta read

Notes: this is honestly just pure filth, you are warned. This is entering lgbtqia+ territory (for both drivers).

I’ll post this and drink a bottle of holy water or something.

God, Max hated you.

He hated your pretty face, your beautiful body and your amazing personality.

He hated that you were Hamilton’s girl.

Really, it was never his intention to look at you that way. Your paths should’ve never even crossed if you weren’t the most friendly person in the entire world. The first few times he saw you was just in passing, and he thought you were beautiful, but granted, all Lewis’ girlfriends were beautiful anyway. But then, you and Lewis became official after a couple of months, and your presence in race weekends became more and more prominent.

You soon became friends with other drivers, and Max always saw you around having a blast with George and his girlfriend, or even joking with Lando and Oscar, or helping the Ferrari guys with photography, or chatting with Valtteri or Esteban. When you even started a brief friendship with the Alpha Tauri boys, Max knew his time was coming, you seemed intent on getting acquainted with everyone.

The first time he was introduced to you, it came from Daniel Ricciardo, who was strolling with you, and Max suddenly crossed your path, trying to avoid both.

“Max!” He heard Daniel calling after him, and Max immediately froze on the spot. He managed to move and turn around just in time as you and Daniel stopped right in front of him, “This is Y/N, she’s brought everyone some cookies!”

“Hi, nice to meet you, Max!” You shook his hand, and he looked down to the box of cookies you were balancing with the other hand, “those are 100% healthy, ok? Gluten-free, vegan, low carb, all the athlete friendly stuff!”

“You made them?” Max asked, dumbly. But you laughed out loud as if he had said the best joke ever.

“Oh no, I can’t bake- or cook, to save my life!” You offered, raising the box, “go on, take one, you won’t regret it!” You said sweetly, your eyes shining in such a way that if you had offered him poison, he would probably take it willingly.

You chirped away as soon as you spotted Lando and Oscar, offering them cookies too after wishing Max a quick “good luck”.

You were always at the races, and through gossip, Max had heard you had a job only during four weekdays, so even if you had to work up until Thursday, you would always find a way to go to the races to support Lewis. You made sure to always greet every driver, wishing them luck regardless if you were rooting for your boyfriend only.

One day, Max was passing by and you noticed him, even if you were chatting with your boyfriend.

“Hey, Max!” You saluted him, and he just nodded back to you with his lips pressed in an almost smile.

He hated your ass in those jeans. He hated the way your perfume lingered behind every time you left after chatting with him. He hated the way you were always touching Lewis, not in a very PDA way, but more with soft touches, holding his hand, putting a supportive hand on his shoulder, whispering softly and giving him that divine smile of yours.

God, Max was so fucked.

-

Lewis invited everyone to a pre-season party at his place in Monaco. He even invited Max, who was particularly surprised, since they’re not really close. When Max texted other drivers to check if they were going, all of them confirmed, because no one would willingly miss an infamous Lewis Hamilton party. And Max decided to go because he didn’t want to be the only stuck up guy who wouldn’t show up.

And definitely not because he was hoping to see you there.

As he arrived purposefully late, the party was in full swing as soon as he entered through the door. His eyes scanned the room, dimly lit lights, loud music and way more people than he expected. He spotted you first, wearing a skimpy shimmering dress, standing between Lewis’ legs as he was sitting in a bar stool right behind you. The two of you were chatting with Lewis’ friends and Carlos, so Max did the most rational thing and walked to the opposite side, finding Checo and Charles talking over drinks.

Eventually he had to go and greet you and Lewis, since you’re both hosting the party, would be rude not to. He saw the opportunity as soon as you and Lewis were alone by the bar, whispering conspiratorially. He approached with a small smile.

“Glad to see you, Max” Lewis shook his hand as you smiled softly. It took Max a lot of restraint to not allow his eyes to rake down your body as you touched his shoulder in a friendly manner.

“Hope you’re enjoying yourself tonight, Max,” you said sweetly.

“I am, thanks for the invite,” he raised his drink politely. Luckily for him, he was immediately called over by Charles, who wanted a partner for a darts game.

He managed to let loose after a few drinks, and he didn’t stare at you as much as he did on the paddock. He drank and even met new people that Charles introduced him to.

As the party was winding down after a few hours, Max made sure Checo got to his car safely and instructed his driver to walk him inside because his teammate was way too drunk to walk on his own.

When Max got back, the amount of people still partying had lowered to half, and as he entered the room, he saw you exactly on the center of the dance floor. Reggaeton was blasting by the DJ, and you were dancing and grinding on your girl friends. And he felt like he was going insane as he went half hard just watching you dance. The way your hips moved, and the dress hiked up dangerously close to show half of your ass, and the envy he felt as he saw your girlfriends’ hands roaming your sides. He swallowed thickly forcing himself to look away, but the image of your hips moving slowly didn’t fade from his mind.

He tried to not pay you any attention, but you spent the next 30 minutes dancing, and grinding dangerously close to show your ass and you cleavage as the dress moved with your body.

He decided to go into the bathroom to calm down his mind and the hard on inside his pants. He threw cold water in his face that was red from the alcohol and the show you were giving outside. He refused to do anything about his boner other than mentally calm down. He is a high performance athlete, he could and would have the self control to command his body. He didn’t even want to touch himself because he didn’t want to cross that line.

He spent almost an hour inside the bathroom, pacing around and calming down.

As he came back to the party, he frowned, noticing that almost everyone had left, and those who were still there were getting ready to leave. Max decided that was the right course of action.

He spotted you and Lewis sitting down, Lewis sitting on an armchair and you sitting on the arm by his side.

“Hey, guys, thanks for the invite, I had a great time” Max waved.

“Do you want to accompany us for a nightcap?” Lewis suggested. Max looked between you two, confused.

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” Max said slowly, not sure if you were only being polite, or if you really wanted him to join.

“Come on, Lewis stock the good stuff in the second office,” You winked at him, which made him laugh a little, in disbelief.

He watched as you got up, strolling happily upstairs. Max wasn’t sure if you were tipsy or sober enough, because you were always this chirpy and extroverted. Lewis followed behind you, and Max trailed right after, following to the second floor.

The second office, as you had called, looked like it had came right out of a 1920’s movie with leather couch and armchairs, and a wall full of different types of alcoholic beverages.

Max sat in an armchair close to the warm lights, and Lewis sat right in front of him, strangely close, with only a small centre table between them. Max’s eyes followed you as you went to the bar area.

“Max, how do you take your bourbon?” You asked softly, aligning three glasses.

“On the rocks, please” Max muttered, still unsure about everything. Something seemed off.

“You’re one of us, right baby?” You commented with a little giggle. As Max watched you prepare the drinks, he understood what you meant, all the three glasses were bourbon with ice.

Lewis started a small talk with Max, talking about how you two were considering buying a place in Netherlands because you adored Amsterdam.

As you came back, balancing the drinks with both hands, Max helped you grabbing one and giving other to Lewis. Max swallowed as you bent over to hand him his glass, and his eyes snapped to the way your dress lowered and he caught a glimpse of your breasts. His cheeks were red and warm as you sat down on Lewis’ lap.

“Cheers!” You said sweetly as you raised your glass for him in a toast, Lewis following your lead raising his too, from behind you.

The three of you kept talking about the plans to buy a new place, and the neighborhoods you’re contemplating moving to. Suddenly, you stopped talking.

“Max, can you be a dear and help me take off my heels?” You raised one of your legs in his direction, dangerously close to raising the hem of your dress. He stared at the red bottom of your heels, the strings around your ankle in a simple knot.

Max licked his lips, unsure as he looked over to Lewis, who just nodded, as if giving permission. The Dutch just leaned forward and held your ankle firmly with one hand and pulled the knot with the other. He tried not to think about being so physically close to you, how soft your skin felt against his hand, or the way you curled your toes as soon as the shoe was off. He lowered your foot trying not to linger his touch on your skin, and waited with bated breath as you raised the other one. He quickly undid the other, and he sighed as you finally let go.

He felt like it was some sort of test, as he checked Lewis to see a small smirk tugging his lips.

“Thank you, Max.” You said, politely.

“Do you think she’s pretty?” Lewis asked all of a sudden.

“No, I- I mean- Yes, but-” Max failed miserably, choking on his own words, but both you and Lewis waited calmly for his response. Finally, Max exhaled, looking deep into your eyes, “You’re beautiful, Y/N.”

He watched as you smiled, your cheeks blushing a bit and some kind of sick pride swelled in his chest.

“What do you say, baby?” Lewis tapped softly the side of your hip.

“Thank you, Max,” you whispered.

“We have noticed you,” Lewis started, looking Max in the eyes from above your shoulders, “how you ogle my baby every time you set your eyes on her,” Max felt his chest thudding on his ears, eyes wide, he barely breathe as Lewis’ hand settled on your neck, rising until it cradled your jaw firmly, “but luckily for you, we’re putting on a show tonight. Right, baby? You can stay and watch, Max, or you can leave right now and we’ll never talk about it again,” Lewis offered and waited for Max to get up and leave, but instead, Max just flexed his fingers, eyes on you.

Max’s breath caught on his throat, and he couldn’t believe his eyes as Lewis let go of yours, settling back on the armchair.

“Go on, baby. Make yourself comfortable.” Lewis commanded you, seemingly unbothered as he went back to nursing his drink. But you didn’t move from your place, just staring at Max, as Lewis finished his drink, he set down the glass, pulling your hair on the back of your head, “you’re not getting shy right now, are you pretty baby?” Lewis said and nipped at your neck, eliciting a moan from you as Max watched, mesmerized, his own hands firmly against his thighs.

Max’s eyes were wide as he watched Lewis hands finding your shoulders and pulling down the strings of your dress, making the loose fabric pool down around your waist, and your breasts proudly poking up beautifully. Max had to stifle a moan, his blood going straight to his cock at the sight of you half naked on Lewis’ lap. His eyes went from your nipples to your eyes that looked so turned on, pupils dilated and pretty mouth hanging slightly open, he then looked to Lewis, who looked up from ravaging your neck with a smirk.

“Go on, honey,” Lewis said to you but kept his eyes on Max’s.

Max only stared as you put both feet on the center table, flexing your knees and opening your legs to give him a full view of between your legs. He groaned as you showed him you were wearing no panties under that tiny dress. Lewis helped you take the dress fully off, throwing the shimmery fabric on the floor.

“I can bet she’s glistening right now, isn’t she, Max?” Lewis said, grabbing a hold on both your thighs and opening your legs even more for Max to see your pussy, “isn’t she?” Lewis asked again, his tone showing some dominance.

“She’s dripping wet,” Max answered slowly nodded, eyes focusing between your legs, which made you even hornier as they talked so casually about it. Your pussy was clenching and dripping so much you were sure you’re going to ruin the couch between Lewis’ legs soon, “you look so pretty, Y/N” Max added, reverently.

“Keep going, pretty baby, touch yourself so Max can see how pretty you look when you come.”

You obeyed, reaching your middle finger between your legs, finding a small relief running it up and down your slit, moaning softly which made Max palm himself on his jeans. You also could feel Lewis raging hard by your ass, and you wiggled your hips a little to give him some relief too.

“Put a finger in your pretty pussy,” Lewis said, and you went along, putting your middle finger into your pussy, moaning loud at the delicious contact, even though your fingers were nothing compared to Lewis’, “make yourself feel good.”

Max only watched, hypnotized by the way you were pulling your finger in and out, moaning and head lolling back, your tits bouncing with every roll of your hips. Lewis hands caressed your sides and went up until he pinched your nipples and you cried out, your moans louder by the second. The only thing Max could do was press his own erection through the fabric, the up and down of his hand, matching your own movements. He was getting closer to shamelessly finishing on his pants, and he could assume by the way your moans were getting louder that you too were close to finishing. He followed your rhythm, attentively.

“Stop” Lewis commanded and you immediately stopped, whining from being so close to release.

Lewis hummed softly as he noticed how Max also responded to his command, stopping his hand too, fingers flexing against his thigh. Lewis wasn’t sure about anything when the two of you talked about inviting Max to watch. But now seeing how quickly he was to follow an order, how his cheeks flushed and how his mouth was open, Lewis realized he got a great deal in all of this. He never knew Max could quickly fall into a sub preference.

“Max, open your trousers, pull your cock out” Lewis kept his voice firm, no space for questioning.

Max did what he said, unzipping his jeans, lowering just enough to spring his cock free.

“Now you two can start again, slowly” Lewis said, and he watched as Max licked a wet stripe in his own hand, finally closing his fist around his cock and starting slow, immediately moaning. You also started touching yourself again, enthralled by watching Max do the same. He was still following your lead, setting the pace the same as you. Lewis watched, feeling a little bit of relief in your ass grinding against his clothed cock. You were so close again, this time both you and Max moaning out loud, quickening the movements, you pressing the heel of your hand against your clit and Max pressing his cock head firmly. You could feel the tightening in your core, close to-

“Stop.”

You two stopped, you whining at being denied again, and Max put his shaky hand on the arm of the armchair. Max had never had no one bossing him, much less in edging, but relinquishing control was very freeing, in a way.

“You will warm my cock in your ass as you touch yourself, ok?” Lewis said, calmly instructing you. You only nodded. “Use your words.”

“Yes, Lewis.”

“Now get up, give me a kiss and show Max your pretty plug,” Lewis helped you up, because your legs were a bit shaken.

You turned around, bent over to kiss Lewis on the lips, and the position allowed Max to see your beautiful plug decorated with a pink gemstone. Lewis sucked your tongue, and you moaned against him. You wanted more, but his hands made you turn back around. Max watched fascinated as Lewis lowered his pants and freed his cock, pumping twice before spitting on himself, then pulling the anal plug out slowly, and you only moaned as he aligned his cock in your ass and started pushing softly.

You settled back on his lap, groaning at the feeling of his girth inside you, your eyes rolling in pleasure.

“Oh, Lewis! This is so good, love” You moaned, voice failing.

“You two can start again.”

You let Lewis hold your legs open, and placed your hand on your pussy again, inserting two fingers at once, needing release. Max also grabbed his cock, hand pressed against his leaking head, the view of Lewis’ cock disappearing between your legs was doing something to him.

The build up was quick for both you and Max, all the moaning mixing together, and Lewis joining you now that your ass was gripping his cock.

“Lewis, I’m going to-” you tried, moaning as you pumped your fingers in and out.

“Nuh-uh, hold it,” Lewis said, holding the sides of your hips with both hands, managing your movements as you were impaled on his cock. You kept moving, rubbing your wet fingers circularly your clit. Your eyes found Max’s, face fully red, sweat dampening his hairline. “I said, stop.”

Max was the one to whine as he let go of his cock, hips bucking searching for release. You also stopped, feeling the overwhelming need for release as your eyes teared up. Even if it was hard to endure, you loved the reward after edging sessions. Sometimes Lewis even edged you for hours, and in those occasions you came so hard you almost passed out.

“Please, please let us come,” you begged, not caring about how pathetic you sounded.

Max was only following you and Lewis, going with whatever was the flow, needy for release as much as you, but not as prone to begging as you, so he just stayed there panting as desperate.

“Sure thing, baby. Keep going now.” Lewis snapped his hips up, making you choke to the feel of him filling you up.

You nodded to Max, and the both of you started masturbating again, now more synced than ever. Lewis kept fucking into you, and the sensation only added to your own orgasm quickly building up again.

“Lewis,” Max moaned, “can we just-”

“Yes,” Lewis said with a breathy groan, with how your ass gripped his cock he knew he wasn’t lasting long either. “Max, Y/N, you can come now.”

Lewis had barely finished the sentence when you pressed your clit harder and started shaking, and he held you in place as the blinding pleasure overtook you, his cock twitching inside you as he also came with your body pulsating on him. Max groaned loud as he saw you shake, eyes rolling back and toes curling as you practically sobbed through the orgasm. Thick ropes of cum spilled down his hand and his lower abdomen, hips stuttering. He watched as you squirted, hand still on your pussy making a mess as you gushed, dripping on the floor and on the couch.

It was the filthiest view Max had ever witnessed, your tits bouncing as you came shaking, Lewis’ cock still inside you, spilling his cum down his length. Max fell back on the armchair, trying desperately to catch his breath. For a few minutes, the three desperate breaths calming down were the only sounds heard.

Then, Max watched as Lewis carefully removed you from him, putting you on the sofa, you were still all soft from coming so hard. Lewis opened a small fridge and picked two bottles of water, opening them before giving one to you, and the other to Max.

“Drink it up, Max” Lewis said and Max stared dumbly at him, but he just drank it, the cold water refreshing the heat. He watched as Lewis held the bottle against your lips, and you gulped down more than half of the water at once.

You were still fully naked but you didn’t seem really bothered by it. Lewis got up again, and this time, he went through a small door that Max hadn’t noticed before. Max tucked himself in his pants again, and he stayed silent as Lewis came back, he had a damp towel and he cleaned you between your legs.

“I’m sorry, baby” Lewis said as you hissed when he pressed the towel against your still sensitive pussy.

Over the table, Lewis handed Max the towel.

“To clean up the mess,” Lewis explained, looking pointedly at Max's hand and shirt still a little smeared with his cum.

“Thank you,” Max said, using the towel. As he cleaned, he watched as Lewis helped you put on a fluffy robe.

“Max, it’s really late so we suggest you take one of the guest rooms,” Lewis said gently as he helped you get up.

Max was still confused and also spent, but he just nodded. The party had ended long before and he really believed that the three of you should talk about it. But he could see you and Lewis were too tired for a conversation.

Lewis and you led him to the guest room that was the closest to yours, just in case.

“Just sleep, and we can talk about it in the morning, ok?” You said, smiling kindly.

“Yes, of course.”

Note: should I do part 2?

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #f1 smut

[miloformula123fan]

Hi I love you,

LOGAN FIC PART 3 PRETTY PLEASE.

xx

FINALLY PART 3 IS HERE

the story now has a conclusion but I will be happy to go back to it for some small snippets of their life if people want - just send me a message in my inbox

lmk if you want to be added to the taglist for anything created in this universe

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

part 1 is here, part 2 is here

george russell x sargeant!reader

---

He’d started with flowers. He remembered that she liked orange, so he had gifted her some orange lilies, yellow carnations and tiger lilies. The florist had looked at him very weird when he’d asked for those 3 flowers, but wrapped it nonetheless. He’d had no response after leaving them at Logan’s front door, despite the note also left. Lily had looked at him like he was an idiot when he told her what he did.

Then there were some bad jokes sent to her phone. All left on read. Okay maybe sending her some jokes from a book titled ‘bad dad jokes for dads’ was a bad idea but he had just hoped that they would make her laugh. Lily once again looked at him like he was stupid and Alex had also laughed at him when he told them.

He was never taking relationship advice from then.

He started talking to Logan again. It had been a little awkward because he had been broken up with by his sister, but they managed. He was a good running partner and seemed to be able to differentiate between George, his friend, and George, his sister’s ex boyfriend. Alex had smiled and Oscar had winked when they all went out for dinner together. Lewis just waggled his eyebrows.

He googled the flowers. Okay, maybe sending her a bouquet full of hateful flowers was a bad idea. He made sure to actually consult the florist and instead gave her some orange roses, frangipanis and alstroemerias. She answered the door this time and smiled when she saw the flowers.

She invited him in. Talked to him at the kitchen table where he’d made her pancakes on one of the few cheat days that lined up together. She put the flowers in a vase on the table. He could see the old flowers chucked in the bin. She gave a sheepish smile when she followed his gaze to the bin. He couldn't remember what exactly she said, but he left with tickets for her next Arsenal game in his coat pocket.

He went for another jog with Logan that week. Then joined him in the friends and family box for the Arsenal game. Then he went to the Paris Olympics to cheer her on for her second place medal. In return she had come to Miami and cheered him on from the Williams garage. Then she had come to COTA and cheered her brother on from the Mercedes garage. George and Logan had laughed about that.

“Well, now that I’m banned from the Williams and Mercedes garage, I guess it is time to finally time to say, I love you Russel George.”

“Does this mean I'm forgiven?”

“I suppose so.”

“Love you too Y/N Sargeant.”

---

taglist: @folklorsweet @the-untamed-soul @thatgirlmj @cstads-blog @sinofwriting

#f1 fic #miloformula123fan #f1 x reader #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant #f1 fanfic #logan sargeant x you #george russell x reader #george russell #george russell x you

[russilton]

I don’t really understand what George is asking (dum I know) but he seems really switched on to strategy so seems like he’s made a good call.

Aaand on another note.. I have not missed certain LH fans coming for George for *checks notes* thinking about his race.

Alright sorry it took me a minute to get here, I wanted to give you a proper answer and I’m flagging from post race adrenaline droop.

So to explain what George was asking- in essence he was suggesting the team might want to consider the possibility of inverting the cars in order to stop Charles from catching him and getting within his five second window. The purpose of this was to prevent the TEAM losing points should George be demoted a position with Charles too close.

What George made clear was that he intended to stay within 5 seconds of Lewis, so that no matter what, Lewis would then inherit the position when George’s penalty was applied. Why would he suggest this? The bonk with Perez likely caused George some damage. None of them knew in what way, but with f1 hits like that almost inevitably cause some damage, and in the slick conditions that could be enough for an undamaged Leclerc to catch them and take the place from George, and thus lose the team a couple constructors points.

This was honestly a very smart idea from George, and if it became clear Lewis wouldn’t catch Ocon AND Charles was gaining, it would have been a good idea to employ.

You end up preserving the points for the team without taking away any points from Lewis. It wouldn’t really gain George much other than a helping hand staying away from Charles, which yes he isn’t entitled to, but for the sake of the constructors and team, it would benefit them.

It ended up not really being practical to implement- Lewis was managing to challenge Esteban and couldn’t be distracted, and despite the lack of damage Charles kept slipping away from George, making the swap a moot point. It’s also worth remembering George has no idea the state of Lewis’ car or tires, for all he knows Lew has damage, or none at all.

He poses it as a suggestion bc that’s what it is- a suggestion for the team to consider. This is why I called the idea clever-

While in the end there’s no reason for them to implement it, it’s seriously impressive to see George thinking on his toes as to how he can protect the team position. We saw a similar thing with Alonso’s penalty in Jeddah. And ultimately I think it’s worth considering that If George felt comfortable enough voicing the suggestion, then it’s probably a kind of driving style the team has discussed and agreed on- working together for the greater haul of points rather than keeping utterly divorced from one another for the sake of “their own race.

It’s a direct opposite to how Alpine handled a penalty the year before in Monaco, where Alonso’s choice to back Lewis up ended up backing up his teammate into a train and costing him multiple positions to a 5 second penalty.

At no point does George demand they implement it, it’s something for them to discuss, and when the team lets him know they don’t think it will help, He doesn’t push it. This is a kind of behaviour I’d like to see from George AND Lewis, it’s the definition of teamwork and thinking outside the box.

As for how fans are taking it-‘I’ve said it time and time again, George could offer to suck Lewis’ dick on live tv and twitter would find a way to be angry about it. Some people jump to ridiculous conclusions very fast, but a couple of the dumbest ones I’ve seen are:

“This is George’s way of trying to cheat and gain a position”

It’s not, that he made clear, and if he had, it would be an idiotic move. The team would never trust his calls again and he would destroy any chance of being helped in future. Only an idiot would try to play that game. It comes back to radio behaviour- they don’t say perfectly worded things. George is chatty, he makes lots of suggestions and trusts his team to decide for him. Even I’ve occasionally gone “George mate that’s not practical, if you want that place, go and take it” but most of the time he’s just thinking out loud. That’s not a crime. Secondly:

“Thank god Bono stopped that idea cold”

I love Bono but Bono did nothing. Bono is an expensive jacked microphone that can also perform calming techniques. It’s not his job, He makes no solo strat calls, nor does he get to choose what he tells Lewis. The ONLY persons in the team with the ability to to reject stratergy calls are the strat team itself, Toto, and the Drivers (no one can make them do anything.)

I was listening to Lewis’ radio the entire race- it’s never even mentioned to him, meaning it’s never told to Bono. At best the idea would have passed from Marcus to strategy, and then either strategy or Toto ruled it out. Simple as that. And that’s fine, I really think it’s good for George and Lewis to pitch ideas for consideration without the expectation of implementing, and those kinds of unorthodox moves will take them above rival teams in future.

Look at Ferrari, they kept impeding each other all weekend and dragging themselves down. Merc want the opposite.

This is so not news it’s not even funny, it’s nothing; something truly mundane we should step straight by, but thanks to the true boredom that is Monaco and an already over hyped fanbase that needs to be given a sharp reminder by Lewis that he likes George, it’s been blown up beyond what’s necessary.

The boys did great today, that was the best result they could have secured. They both drove sensibly under pressure with very new very finicky cars, George did great to get a handle on his drive finally and Lewis did incredible well considering he said last night that he got his set up wrong. A win all things considered

#asks #anonymous #mark talks britcedes #marks driver meta #wank/rants #george russell #lewis hamilton

[pfhwrittes]

store meeting time! you and the 141 are politely informed that you’ll be attending a store-wide mandatory meeting after the store closes one sunday afternoon. 

implied fem!reader, use of hen and love as pet names, and my attempt at scottish slang. 

600ish words. 

- - price is on the doors as staff members come in and reminds them to clock in when they walk in and clock out when they walk out – especially colleagues that aren’t scheduled to work. “you’ve come into work on your day off, yes you’re getting paid. ignore the store manager. pizza doesn’t pay the fuckin’ bills.” and for colleagues who were scheduled to work he’s already handed out pre-signed overtime slips “don’t take the piss, just fill in 1600 for start time and fill in the finish time before you leave.” my god this man just wants this over and done with so he can go home. he turns a blind eye to soap’s shenanigans. he scoffs at the pure corporate bollocks that the store manager is coming out with (and it’s loud enough that your manager has to stifle a snigger in response). he asks you to hang back with him to collect the overtime slips as everyone leaves and offers to walk you to your car or to the bus stop. he glares daggers at the store manager when he saunters past and it makes you look away. 

soap has dragged all the chairs from the staff room (including a sofa somehow) and is jealously guarding five of them at the back of the crowd because like hell is he standing for an hour while the store manager drones on about morale and KPIs, profit protection improvements, the new display area layout or whatever the fuck it is he’s talking about (you're not sure what he's talking about to be honest but at least you look like you're trying to pay attention). soap also just blatantly texts through the whole meeting. you smack him lightly on the arm when he leans into your space and stage whispers about stopping off at mcdonalds before going home. “ow! whit was that for, hen? i just want to know if yer wantin’ a milkshake is all!” he saunters off roughly in the same direction simon took across the car park when you let him know that you're fine actually, you just want to go home so you can start on your laundry.

kyle actually makes a few notes about the changes the store manager wants to implement with a frown on his face and ever so politely challenges him when things don’t add up. you get the impression that even though kyle is being polite (unlike price) and attentive (unlike soap), he’s also thinking this is a complete waste of time (like simon). kyle will absolutely grab a box of pizza to share with his favourite people and lets you grab the first slice during the 15 minute break. kyle is one of the few members of staff (along with lewis from the interior decorating department) that collects up the rubbish so the cleaner doesn’t have a shitfit in the morning and that brings him way up in your estimation (he was already close to being your favourite non-checkout member of staff and now he’s pretty much cemented it for you). he's also good enough to grab the chairs and ropes lewis into helping him move the sofa back to staff room before he leaves too.

simon slips in last and is the first one out of the doors when the store manager dismisses everyone with a completely false “have a good one ladies and gents!”. you get the impression that he absolutely doesn’t want to be here. he refuses to sit down in the chair that soap saved for him and stands directly behind you as far away from the store manager as he can physically get. he shakes his head when you ask if he wants a slice of pizza and offers a gruff “don’t like pizza, love” in response. he does manage to nod at price on his way out of the store. quietly (and only to yourself because you’re not sure simon would appreciate you sticking your nose in his business), you’re worried about him. you’ve barely seen him after his enforced two week annual leave after the warehouse incident and you just get the feeling that something is bothering him.

#retail hell au #jp #jm #kg #sr #it's still light and fluffyish for now but i can sense plot is working its way into retail hell au #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #kyle garrick x reader #john mactavish x reader