#nice job marketing team

[sol-flo]

i'm going to destroy this damn phone

- the boss avoider

#long vent / rant on tags open at your own risk #straight up turned off my phone and put teams on do not disturb because i was TRYING TO WORK and kept getting interrupted by his whining #(he particularly said he needed me to work [read: be at the office. december 22.] while hindering my ability to do so !!!) #like the job is lame and boring and all but as much as i bitch about it i overall don't mind it that much #i was on a nice roll. think i finished this first website draft in record time (it's not very complicated but still. just 2 days) #and i stg i never have any problems with my project heads yknow. it's not a matter of being bad at receiving orders or w/e #and regardless of what he might say the communication problems are not on my end. bc again it doesn't happen w anyone else #i brought it up with him and he said 'well communication is a two way street you have to do it too' but tell me how can i talk to this man #i misunderstand a message he sends bc he never ever details what he wants even after i specifically asked him to yknow #tell me the whole information when he asks something of me #and then i respond based on the message i received and he goes 'well show me where i said that' FUCK YOU #he's always so passive aggressive about it all too #like if you say 'we have to look at the marketing materials to make new social media posts' and then. not tell me anything else #how am i supposed to know that there's a specific folder and you want me to take the text previously written and put it on new images #like that's a whole other sentence my guy you cannot be mad that i thought you wanted me to scour your social media and #make new posts whole cloth. fuck right off i have to put in my notice bc it's impossible to work under a man like this #like forgive me for the expression but he absolutely lacks leadership skills #if you're not good with people you should just delegate those parts to people who are and focus on reading about the metav3rse #GOD. i'll soon be sent to the seaside for my health (new years trip w my friends) but. i won't be on break at all so :grimace: #because there's that too. haven't had a single break except for holidays but like. only the DAY of the holiday #holiday on a thursday and you're expecting a nice four day weekend? well too bad get fucked you're working that friday #like jesus you're not providing anything so important you need to work your employees every legally allowed day of the year #just stop for the holidays! people won't die because someone's website has been delayed for two weeks! #to think i even considered learning frontend to branch my career options. i'm not stepping foot in a tech company again in my life #i mean there's still self important bosses everywhere. my friend's at a marketing agency and god knows the owner is crazy but #the grindset is gonna kill you and i won't let it kill me too.

[reasonsforhope]

Legit though, we should start turning ecosystem restoration and work to make our world more tolerant to the effects of climate change into annual holidays and festivals

Like how just about every culture used to have festivals to celebrate the beginning of the harvest or its end, or the beginning of planting, or how whole communities used to host barn raisings and quilting bees - everyone coming together at once to turn the work of months or years into the work of a few days

Humble suggestions for festival types:

Goat festival

Besides controlled burns (which you can't do if there's too much dead brush), the fastest, most effective, and most cost-efficient way to clear brush before fire season - esp really heavy dead brush - is to just. Put a bunch of goats on your land for a few days!

Remember that Shark Tank competitor who wanted to start a goat rental company, and everyone was like wtf? There was even a whole John Oliver bit making fun of the idea? Well THAT JUST PROVES THEY'RE FROM NICE WET PLACES, because goat rental companies are totally a thing, and they're great.

So like. Why don't we have a weekend where everyone with goats just takes those goats to the nearest land that needs a ton of clearing? Public officials could put up maps of where on public lands grazing is needed, and where it definitely shouldn't happen. Farmers and people/groups with a lot of acres that need clearing can post Goat Requests.

Little kids can make goat-themed crafts and give the goats lots of pets or treats at the end of the day for doing such a good job. Volunteers can help wrangle things so goats don't get where they're not supposed to (and everyone fences off land nowadays anyway, mostly). And the goats, of course, would be in fucking banquet paradise.

Planting Festival and Harvest Festival

Why mess with success??? Bring these back where they've disappeared!!! Time to swarm the community gardens and help everyone near you with a farm make sure that all of their seeds are sown and none of the food goes to waste in the fields, decaying and unpicked.

And then set up distribution parts of the festival so all the extra food gets where it needs to be! Boxes of free lemons in front of your house because you have 80 goddamned lemons are great, but you know what else would be great? An organized effort to take that shit to food pantries (which SUPER rarely get fresh produce, because they can't hold anything perishable for long at all) and community/farmer's markets

Rain Capture Festival

The "water year" - how we track annual rainfall and precipitation - is offset from the regular calendar year because, like, that's just when water cycles through the ecosystems (e.g. meltwater). At least in the US, the water year is October 1st through September 30th of the next year, because October 1st is around when all the snowmelt from last year is gone, and a new cycle is starting as rain begins to fall again in earnest.

So why don't we all have a big barn raising equivalent every September to build rain capture infrastructure?

Team up with some neighbors to turn one of those little grass strips on the sidewalk into a rain-garden with fall-planting plants. Go down to your local church and help them install some gutters and rain barrels. Help deculvert rivers so they run through the dirt again, and make sure all the storm drains in your neighborhood are nice and clear.

Even better, all of this - ESPECIALLY the rain gardens - will also help a ton with flood control!

I'm so serious about how cool this could be, yall.

And people who can't or don't want to do physical stuff for any of these festivals could volunteer to watch children or cook food for the festival or whatever else might need to be done!

Parties afterward to celebrate all the good work done! Community building and direct local improvements to help protect ourselves from climate change!

The possibilities are literally endless, so not to sound like an influencer or some shit, but please DO comment or reply or put it in the notes if you have thoughts, esp on other things we could hold festivals like this for.

Canning festivals. "Dig your elderly neighbors out of the snow" festivals. Endangered species nesting count festival. Plant fruit trees on public land and parks festival. All of the things that I don't know anywhere near enough to think of. Especially in more niche or extreme ecosystems, there are so many possibilities that could do a lot of good

#climate change #climate action #climate crisis #climate hope #solarpunk #hopepunk #hope posting #community building #ecosystem #ecosystem restoration #forest fire #fire prevention #flood #flood prevention #harvest #harvest festival #regenerative agriculture #modern farming #water conservation #meteorology #festival #not news #hope #climate optimism

[suga-kookiemonster]

ctrl-alt-del | jjk (teaser)

summary⇢ you graduated bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but, to your extreme disappointment, your big girl job isn't turning out to be nearly as exciting as you thought it would be. still, you're holding out hope that your talents will soon be recognized and your coworkers will stop trying to include you in their gossip sessions. enter jungkook, the quiet IT guy who's gradually making your days more bearable. (and if you find him easy on the eyes, that's nobody's business but yours.) pairing⇢ jungkook/reader teaser word count⇢ 1.4k genre⇢ smut | humor | office!au warnings⇢ nothing too bad for this teaser! just a mention of oral

a/n⇢this fic has literally been sitting in my wips for YEARS lmao. i feel like it's finally time to set it free 🕊️✨ it's looking like it's gonna lean more towards pwp, but there's definitely still enough plot in there to keep it interesting. not sure when it will be up, but wanted to share a snippet to get your thoughts and get myself excited to finish the last leg--fingers crossed for the next month or so 🤞🏾🙌🏾💜

When you graduated top of your class with a marketing degree and a job already lined up, you weren’t big-headed to assume you would be given a lot in the beginning. No, you knew that you were the new kid on the block and needed to prove yourself first, needed to work your way up from the bottom. But what you definitely didn’t anticipate was working up from thefigurative trenches, almost exclusively doing busywork—constantly making coffee runs, catering business lunches, printing out endless spreadsheets.

Eighty-thousand dollars in debt, and you are a glorified intern.

You’re positively itching to hit the ground running and get your hands dirty, your job isn’t too bad. The people there are all nice and welcoming, the complimentary coffee in the break room is decent enough for your dwindling bank account, and every couple of weeks, the company sponsors an employee barbecue were everyone can fraternize and enjoy free food.

“Apparently it fosters unity and teamwork,” your coworker Joy informs you as you both stand in the food line. “Seokjin—that’s our CEO—is really big on unity and teamwork.”

Joy is also a member of your marketing team. Though as sweet as can be, she has no filter, and thus always has a lot to say about everything—which has helped you when it comes to learning the ropes about the company, but has also had you clutching your imaginary pearls in some situations where you found it inappropriate. Despite only being a year older than you, her title of Marketing Associate (instead of your measly Assistant)means that she technically outranks you, though she doesn’t usually enforce that fact (unless there was something that needed to be copied or filed, of course). Still, she immediately took you under her wing when you first started, and she is the closest person to a friend you have at work (even though her daily coffee order is always so ridiculous, you are convinced that she has to be fucking with you—or at least engaging in some form of mild hazing.).

“I think it’s nice,” you reply. “I’ll never say no to free food, and they let us out early and everything.”

“I mean, pretty sure you can get the hotdogs twelve in a pack at the dollar store,” Joy quips, raising her eyebrows at you pointedly. “But sometimes the boys from Sales take their shirts off and play soccer, so there’s that.”

Your eyes dart to said Sales boys against your will, gaze drawn to Jung Hoseok as he chats animatedly with his teammates by the tables. You’ve only spoken to him once or twice, but his fiery red hair and even brighter smile caught your attention immediately, your heart rate accelerating at the sight of him in hallways mere days into starting your new position. Who better to have a mild work crush on than a sweet-talking salesman who winks at you sometimes in passing?

An appreciative noise has you turning back around, embarrassed at being caught ogling how shapely Hoseok’s butt looks in his dress pants today, but it’s just Wendy from accounting, Joy’s best friend and thus a harmless, familiar face. Wendy has cut in front of a few editors to join you and Joy, and the way that she smiles at you lets you know she’s up to no good. “He’s cute, huh?” she asks, leaning towards you conspiratorially. “I would definitely give him the good ol’ suck behind the dumpsters over there, if you catch my drift.”

“Err…yeah, I do,” you reply awkwardly. She had been explicitly clear—keyword explicit—so there definitely isn’t any room for misunderstandings. Is this truly appropriate work function conversation? From the way the editors behind you are politely clearing their throats, you think not.

“Behind the dumpster?” Joy asks curiously. “He’s standing right next to some sturdy tables that I, for one, would take great advantage of—”

“I’m gonna go get us some drinks,” you announce loudly, your neck heating up. “Can you grab me a hot dog, Joy?”

“Sure,” she says dismissively, already distracted by her sudden debate with Wendy about the most convenient place to suck off salesman Jung.

The whole conversation is making you uncomfortable. You are not a prude—far from it—but there is a time and place for everything, and your coworkers’ blasé attitude towards speaking about inappropriate topics at company functions on company time rattles you a bit. So instead of engaging in the risqué discussion further, you make your way to the cluster of brightly-colored coolers that presumably hold beverages, sidling up to the only other person lingering the area.

“Anything good?” you ask cordially, making your coworker, who had apparently been deep in thought while considering his beverage options, startle a bit.

He’s tall, his large frame covered in the appropriate business casual attire of nice jeans and a powder-blue buttonup. When he turns his head to look at you, you’re met with large, dark eyes blinking in surprise from behind wire-rimmed glasses. Said eyes dart around for a moment before determining that you were, in fact, speaking to him.

The man clears his throat. “Just the usual,” he says, voice soft. Timid.

“The usual?” you repeat. There are little hoops dangling from his earlobes, and you brush off your surprise at seeing them, returning your gaze to the coolers. Water, a clear soda, a cola. “The basics, you mean. Well, can’t really complain, right? Seeing as it’s all free. I think it’s really nice of them.”

Your companion seems surprised at your words. “It is,” he agrees softly, eyes meeting yours for a second before dropping back down to the cooler. “Um, are you...are you new?”

“Damn, I guess my cover’s blown.” You shoot him a wry smile. “Yeah, I just started a couple of weeks ago. What gave it away?”

“It’s just—no one else here really cares about these barbecues anymore,” he admits, looking at you, but not quite. More like, in your direction. “Everyone has forgotten to appreciate the little things.”

“Nothing is a given,” you shrug. “So you need to appreciate things when you can. And besides, those lots of little things can really add up without you realizing it.”

He finally seems to look at you properly, and the weight of his large, gentle brown eyes throws you off for a second. “They can,” he agrees, lips slowly drifting up. 

“What do we have over here?” a loud voice interrupts, a hand falling to your shoulder. You look up, and are met with the brightness of salesman Jung.

“Ah,” Hoseok says with a wink, reaching into the cooler. “I love Sprite.”

“Me too,” you reply automatically, and then immediately want to smack yourself. Because you don’t—carbonated beverages make you break out. But your mouth had formed the lie without your permission.

Embarrassed, you reach into the cooler, grabbing three water bottles. “See you later,” you squeak, avoiding eye contact as you make your escape.

Joy and Wendy are already watching you when you return to where they have procured a table, and when you hand them their waters, Joy raises an eyebrow. “I was wondering how long you were going to talk to that IT guy.”

“Yeah, and why did you leave when Hoseok showed up?” Wendy pouted. “_____, the universe is only going to give you so many opportunities. If you don’t want the ball, then pass it to me! Goddamn.”

“IT guy?” you ask, hoping to slide past that last remark.

“Yeah. His name is Jungkook, I think? Mostly works with the printers, started a couple months ago.” Joy shrugs, obviously disinterested by the topic. She reaches for the ketchup bottle in the center of the table and squirts some on her hot dog. “This is the first time I’ve seen him at a barbecue, though. Honestly, I’m surprised he even came out, because the IT dudes generally keep to themselves. The rarely leave their little tower,” she adds with a dismissive wave.

Wendy scoffs. “Who cares about Jeremy! Hurry up and eat, I’m sure Sales is gonna start their soccer game soon.”

“Soccer game?” you ask.

“The sales department likes to play soccer during these things,” Joy informs you. Her expression brightens. “Hey, maybe Hoseok will take his shirt off again! Let us pray.”

To your coworkers’ disappointment, Hoseok did not take his shirt off. But they certainly had a good time watching him run back and forth across the grass.

#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook scenario #bts fic #mine #fic: ctrl alt del #bby

[uglyducklingofthe2000s]

hiii, i love your works so much!! i enjoy them so much and im so thankful that you share it with us 🫶if it’s possible i have a request please - maybe something with lando and the trope “she fell first, he fell harder” 🥹🤍

Get A Hold Of Yourself - LN

I don't think this is a trope I've ever written, like even in stuff that I've not published, it might end up being long but I kind of love this trope so...let's see how it goes.

Also got kind of the whole grid giving the reader some love and support (not mentioned by name or like interacting w her) at one point, nothing romantic between her and other drivers but yeah just as part of the plot.

"Jesus, can you put your tongue back in your mouth? You'll be dragging it around the paddock soon." Y/f/n scolds while they sit in the paddock. She's an Aston Martin marketing assistant while y/n works in the F1 marketing team, in charge of running the Instagram with a couple other people.

"It's not fair." Y/n sighs shaking her head.

Y/n actually started working as an intern the same year Lando started as a rookie and she may or may not been the leading person behind drawing attention to all the rookies that year. But she's always found herself drawn to Lando.

But it's 2023 and 100 races later, she's still not found it in herself to ever get beyond a singular conversation with the McLaren driver.

"Maybe if you actually made a move."

"You're insane. We all remember Lando's poor girlfriend last year." Y/n sighs shaking her head. "Anyway, I'm hardly his type."

"Y/n!" Y/n's very grumpy boss, Sandra exclaims looking at her in completely and utter hatred. Apparently she's to impressed to see that she made her employee jump. "Oh I'm sorry, did I scare you while you give yourself a break?"

"Sorry." Y/n murmurs standing up while y/f/n's rolls her eyes, she thinks the F1 social media manager is an absolute bitch and actually so does the rest of the paddock.

They're all secretly hoping that y/n will be promoted to take her job soon enough. Little does y/n know that a few of the drivers saw the mistreatment and they're not going to be standing for it.

-

By the time of the next race weekend, y/n is completely unaware of the drivers having all managed to group together to go to the F1 media manager about the behaviour of the social media manager and treatment towards y/n.

"Hey, y/n." Lando greets as she walks through the paddock just heading towards the line up for the driver's parade.

"O-Oh, hi Lando." Y/n smiles flushing pretty hard, as she always does with him interacting with her. "What can I help you with?"

"Maybe I just want to catch up with you. Do I need to have any other reason?" Lando shrugs making her face nearly explode. Maybe she's just spontaneously combust.

Get a hold of yourself. Lando is a nice guy and he's just being nice to you like everyone else is. Do not let your crush make you that delusional.

"That's nice of you." Y/n finally murmurs as they begin to walk in to where the rest of the driver's are await for the driver's parade.

Truth be told, Lando is biting his tongue of the news that all the drivers have had it confirmed to them that y/n would be finding relief of the position of her manager and while it wasn't confirmed she'd be trusted with the newly open position. They're almost certain that's what's happening.

They get up onto the open trailer on a truck since they're not going with the vintage cars that they sometimes use for the driver's parade and have primarily favoured this year.

Lando sucks to y/n the whole time to the point that she can't escape him and continues to get flustered as she tries to actually go her job. Though the rest of the drivers do notice Lando trying to constantly have the young woman's attention.

"Hey, Lando. Leave the poor girl alone." Carlos laughs clamping his hands down on Lando's shoulders to force him still. "She's trying to work."

-

"I think Lando might have a think for you." Y/f/n states making y/n look up from her lunch with a frown. "I'm not playing with you."

"Yes you are."

"No. I'm not. How many times has Lando been coming back around and speaking to you?"

"Not that much." Y/n denies though even she has to admit that Lando seems to be getting more and more present around her. "Don't even get my hopes up. Everyone knows he's been spotted with a few different girls through the year."

"Stop being dramatic. You've hooked up with members of the teams. even a McLaren mechanic."

"You promised not to mention that...I never should've let you take me out while I had a cold. Thanks for telling me afterwards that medication made alcohol practically send someone sides way." Y/n grumbles before she grimaces at the memory. "I hope he doesn't know that-oh god what if he thinks I'm just going to hook up with him?"

"He's not thinking that. Trust me, no one is thinking that."

Y/n nearly whines feeling the anxiety build just over the idea.

"You're an idiot." Y/f/n sighs shaking her head before the media manager for F1 comes up to them.

"Y/f/n, do you mind giving y/n and I a moment?"

There's a brief moment of high tension silence before y/f/n jumps up rambling a yes before her spot is taken by the media manager.

"Don't worry you're not in trouble, y/n. Stop looking so terrified of me." Vinnie chuckles before sighing and looking almost guilty. "Y/n, a couple weeks ago. A few of the drivers and other members of staff reported to me that Sandra has been bullying you and treating you very harshly. I want you to know that I understand how concerned people have to be to group together and report it and I don't tolerate that work atmosphere. So she is leaving the team."

"I...don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. This is what should be done. But I would like for you to take the open job. You have been with us for 4 years now, I think you do an amazing job. It comes with a raise. What is there to stop you? So would you be happy to take the job?"

"I...yes."

"Ok, good. And make sure to thank Lando too. He seemed to be the leading force behind getting everyone to speak up about Sandra."

"He was?"

"Yeah."

He's being nice. He's a nice guy. A nice guy that your dumbass has just fallen harder for than you realised you could.

"Well we'll sort out contracts later. Thank you for the talk."

"Thank you. For...for all of it." Y/n swallows before Vinnie stands up and walks away while she grins, nearly beaming to herself before she gets up deciding she's got a boost in confidence and intends to use it even if she doesn't feel like it'll last long.

She manages to track down Lando who is at the pit wall with his race engineer Will. But he spots her and stops the conversation.

"Lando...I..." A choke up really?

"You..." Lando teases making her face burn up, or at least that's how it feels. Is she actually on fire? "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I uhhh just Vinnie told me that I should thank you."

"No need to thank me. You don't deserve to be humiliated like that." Lando shrugs then reaching forward to push some hair out the way that had blown into her face. "Come with me, I was just about to head off anyway."

"O-Ok." Y/n nods while looking at Will who waves at the two before the expression on her face reads easily.

They walk for a bit with Lando checking his phone which begins to let the doubt set in but he shoves it into his pocket and looks up at her.

"I uhh...Vinnie actually promoted me too. So I'll have Sandra's job. Guess I really owe you a lot." Y/n rambles while Lando smirks a little.

"Do that mean I'm going to get some posts on the F1 page that compliment me and my amazing talent?" Lando questions making her sigh a little before she looks at him. "You want to grab some lunch together?"

"I could eat." She nods trying not to let her internal excitement over the idea of getting lunch with him. It's no big deal.

They spend quite a while eating, certainly longer than Lando is supposed to be spending eating. Y/n is almost certain of that. The driver's schedules usually have some structure, but the way he is looking at her right now is making her not want to speak up on the matter.

But eventually he's called away by someone from his own media team and the young woman looks unimpressed to see y/n sitting there with the driver.

"Hey, this is...my number, text me and we'll arrange to go golfing." Lando states as if that had been the point of the conversation at any point during the conversation. "See you later."

"I-Yeah, see you later." Y/n nods looking down at the napkin which has his number written on it.

A lot of the F1 team doesn't have close enough friendships to have the numbers of any of the drivers. Many of them want their privacy respected so they just keep their numbers to themselves.

Y/n is almost in shock as she is sort of escorted out of the McLaren unit and when she steps out she feels. There’s must’ve been some sort of universe swap in the past few days where Lando has gone from somewhat acknowledging her as an acquaintance to actually sitting down and talking to her. She actually feels like a rogue fan.

-

Y/n didn't text Lando. In fact with the next weekend being a race weekend means that she's got y/f/n there to help support her in her panic over the fact it's been days and she hasn't texted Lando.

“Maybe it’s some sort of prank. Oh got what if i’m a dare?”

“Lando is a bit old to be playing the of I dare you to date that girl or pretend you like her kind of game." Y/f/n states while y/n sighs nearly in distress. "Here just let me message him, since you are panicking like a moron."

"Such kind words." Y/n murmurs before handing her phone over with a sigh. "Don't make it cringy. I hate when messages are cringey."

"Me too." A voice comments as a body sits down next to her. "Who you messaging?"

"No one." "You."

The look y/f/n gets from y/n might actually have been enough to make her heart still for a moment.

"Me?" Lando smirks making y/n snatch her phone back.

"Moron." Y/n grumbles as y/f/n winks at her then stands up and leaves. "Don't listen to her."

"So she was texting someone else on your phone?" Lando questions looking not quite as playful as she thinks he means to sounds. "Quite few guys around the paddock have a bit of a crush on you. It'd be no surprise if-"

"I'm sorry?" Y/n chokes out just completely unfamiliar with the whole idea of people having a crush on her. "People have crushes on me?"

"Everyone makes it so obvious." Lando scoffs making her frown in confusion as to why he'd be annoyed about it.

"Well I don't like them back." Y/n murmurs making him turn to look at her but she's already refocused her gaze on her own hands. "I should go."

"No, y/n wait." Lando rushes out before then making her stop. "I'm sorry. I just...Can we go on a date?"

"Y-Yes."

"Perfect." Lando smiles then smirking a little. "No need to message me any cringy messages then."

Y/n grimaces trying to maintain her composure which is not easy.

-

Lando managed to arrange a date to a restaurant, always finding that the simple dates do seem to allow him to really got to know someone. But he also knows that y/n, while initially shy (at least around him), is actually a talker and he may have a had a few tips after a conversation with y/f/n who told him she can ramble for hours and if he listens then he'll know more about y/n than she knows about herself.

As he waits for her to arrive, he sighs trying not to overthink like he has every second since he realised he may have really started to catch feels for her.

He'd always noticed her, they came into F1 the same year. Her as an intern, him as a driver, so slightly different in that aspect. But she's been there every day that he has and when he saw her being so harshly spoken to (not for the first time) by Sandra, there was something that boils in his blood and he nearly instantly went to Vinnie with a complaint.

"Hey, sorry I'm late. stupid traffic." Y/n breathes, rushing past him and landing in the seat with such force she nearly tips it over and definitely has a split moment that she has to steady herself using the table.

She looks a little windswept and Lando can't even hide his smile when she shifts to look at the menu, clearly rushing to choose something to eat since she is running late.

"You're not late." Lando states making her look up, her body relaxing at the sight of seeing him so genuinely happy to see she's there at all. She did catch a glimpse of him before her saw her and he looked almost annoyed and since she is 5 minutes late to the time she was supposed to be there she feared it was her.

"I am a little. You weren't waiting long were you?"

"No. I mean I actually only sat down a couple minutes ago. We were both late a little." Lando smiles making her settle a bit more and for some reason that brings some more comfort to Lando. As if he being comfortable around him because he's the actively doing something to make her relax.

Y/n ends up ordering chicken alfredo and Lando gets katsu curry. Once they've ordered, that's when y/n begins to ramble trying to fill the silence. Clearly y/f/n wasn't lying when she said that y/n can't allow for comfortable silence to ever have a chance to exist. She'd rather talk till someone joins in to actually make it a conversation or talk till she's out of breath.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Y/n asks once their meals are placed down.

"Just...it's nice hearing you talk." Lando shrugs almost being too honestly and suddenly wondering if maybe he was too honest there. "You always seem to go quiet when I come talk to you in the paddock."

"I do?" Oh I know I do.

"Yeah, but this is nice." Lando shrugs making her nod a little, seeming to go quiet again. "No, don't go quiet again. I really like hearing you talk about...anything."

"I just don't know what to talk about now." Y/n laughs nervously before she swallows thickly. "Why did you ask me out?"

Why did he ask her out? It's good question. Just not one he was prepared for.

"I stopped being stupid." Lando shrugs watching her look at him with some wide eyes. "What?"

"I just didn't expect that answer." Y/n murmurs before swallowing thickly, her body looking a little tense again before she slumps a little and wrinkles her nose a little before picking up her cutlery. "Are you looking forward to the race?"

"I'm looking forward to seeing you have to post about my highlights and amazing performance. You do always seem to give me some extra nice praise." Lando smirks then watching her shovel an impressive amount of pasta into her mouth to keep herself quiet. "You can't eat forever, you have to finish that meal."

Y/n chews almost looking at him stubbornly as she struggles to swallow the mouthful that was far too much for her to actually chew.

"I post the most complimentary stuff about Max and Yuki.'

Lando rolls his eyes at that. Max being posted about positively is a given, he's unstoppable. Yuki being posted about positively, well everyone loves Yuki. Anyone that doesn't like him is just being an asshole.

"But maybe...I post nice things about you when I can-but you've been performing really well this year, so I think I have good reason."

Did Lando's heart just melt so quickly it might've been burned a hole through his chest? Yes. Was it because she said he was performing well? No, though under normal circumstances that would've been an ego boost. It was her nervous smile at the end of her rambling.

Y/n spend the rest of the date rambling between trying to eat and Lando...well Lando realises that what he thought was him ignoring her very obvious and apparent crush on her all these years was a mistake. He didn't take the time to get to know her or spend time with her, when other drivers would say she was the sweetest person in the F1 media team, he sort of shrugged it off. It's not that he didn't agree or even disagree, but he just didn't think about her that much.

Then suddenly things sort of changed at the start of this season, but he just figured that maybe he was spending more time with her just randomly. He always sort of knew she had a crush on him, but she's not the only one in the paddock. That's not him being cocky either, that's the case for a lot of the drivers with others who work in the teams.

Her friend y/f/n notoriously has a crush on Lewis and fumbles any time the living legend even shoots her a smile of acknowledgement.

"I'm not complaining, I just think you should know that I noticed and I think it's nice." Lando states trying to ease the very obvious nerves that look like they're about to be the reason her pasta might reappear in the least graceful way.

-

It took a few more races and a couple more days for things to progress into something a little less nervous from y/n. Lando, in that time, had completely fell hard for her. He had went from a slow interest and endearment to face-planting into the ground over her.

Admittedly, he never expected to really fall in love with this girl. Especially when he was so certain after last year's failed relationship that maybe he's just too young for such a serious relationship. But maybe it was just that he hadn't met the right person.

Y/n is impossible to hate. When F1 fans realised she was promoted to being in charge of the entire social media of F1. They were so excited to see how she would change the F1 social medias. Not that the instagram would change but she's changed the twitter (sorry X), TikTok, Facebook and she's still working on changing the rest. Youtube requires a bit more effort since a lot of content is complications, highlights or pre-recorded videos.

The relationship has slowly been getting picked up on by fans capturing some sweet moments of Lando rushing to hug her, goofing around with her and often just bugging her when she is actually trying to work.

For example, right now.

"Lando...I'm trying to make an upload schedule." Y/n laughs before hissing when Lando nips her thigh with his teeth and nudges up her skirt only for her to use one hand to try and stop any further movements. "Behave."

"Most women wouldn't turn down attention from their boyfriends." Lando hums before placing a kiss on the skin he'd bitten, smiling when he feels her hand push through his hair. "Can you hurry up with the schedule? I don't want to waste the small amount of free time we have before we have to be at the paddock."

"We? I have to be there before you. And free time? I'm working right now."

"You wouldn't be if you let me get my way."

Y/n sighs typing for another minute before tossing her phone away and it;'s the only green light Lando needs to shift upwards. Not being able to hide his smile when her hands cup his face when he finally gets high enough to kiss her.

#f1 #fanfic #formula 1 #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x y/n #lando x reader #lando #norris #lando norris imagines #lando norris x you #lando norris fic #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #ln4 one shot #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff #ln4 fic #mclaren f1 #mclaren #mclaren formula 1 #ln4 fanfic #ln4 x you #ln4 x y/n

[barefoothighlander]

Hi luv! Can you please do some headcanons of ghost having a civilian wife who is an absolute RAY of sunshine, but he keeps the fact that he’s married a secret even from 141. And when they do find out they’re just like??? How??? She’s like so cute???

yes ugh, soft!ghost has my heart, he'd be such a cutie obsessed with his wife, I love this, also obsessed with gossipy Soap and Gaz, they'd be so invested in Ghost's life

warnings: none just fluff

You and Simon had been married 3 years, meeting 5 years ago while he was on leave back home and you were visiting family

You bumped into him on accident after losing all sense of direction on a back street.

He was intrigued because most people are frightened by his outward appearance, but you just smiled at him apologizing profusely.

He had awkwardly asked for your number and you gave it to him, going on a few dates before he fell madly in love with you. Completely enamoured with your smile and personality, always giggling and happy, a stark contrast to how he usually was.

You made him see things in a softer light, constantly dragging him to farmer’s markets and gardens, he followed your every whim, just happy to spend time with you.

He had proposed a year after the two of you became official, deciding he couldn’t go another day without being married to you.

A week after the proposal he had to deploy, it broke his heart to leave you but it made him even more eager to come back to you.

You knew most of what his job consisted of, he spared you the more gory parts as they always made you squeamish. The two of you making it a rule to keep your relationship secret, even from the rest of the team.

After you married he made a point of calling you every day from base just to check in, even though he’d see you right as soon as he got home.

On a particularly difficult mission, Simon had gotten hit in the head, his helmet knocked off and thrown to the dirt, a small piece of paper falling out.

Soap rushed over to him to make sure he was okay, noticing the small paper and grabbing at it as Simon reached to tear it from his hands. It was a photo of you, hair messy from the wind, skin glowing from the sun outside, bright smile plastered on your face as you smiled at your husband behind the camera.

“Lt have’ya a lass,” Soap asked, dodging Ghost’s attempts to retrieve the photo. “Tell me and I’ll give it back”. Sick of Soaps games Ghost submits. “She’s my wife”

Word spread quickly through the team on behalf of Soap’s loudmouth, all the men rushing to question Ghost about his secret relationship.

“No shot you married her, she’s so.. Cute? Smiley? And you’re so” Gaz is cut off by Simon’s dark stare.

All the men pestered Ghost about meeting you as he continued to decline, Price offering a simple ‘congratulations son’

One day you came to base to drop off some gear that Simon forgot at home, immediately greeted by Soap. “No way” he says, stepping towards you with open arms, pulling you into a hug. You hug him back confused. “Sorry, have we met” “No but I’ve heard a lot about you lass”

Simon rushes out of the base practically tearing Soap off you, giving him a warning with a quiet stare as you tug on his jacket, reaching on your toes to lift his mask slightly, planting a kiss to his lips and smiling before handing him the bag of gear which he takes before running a hand softly over your back.

“This is so strange” Soap responds taken aback by the sight of you two, one tall and brooding, face covered by a skull mask and the other a practical ray of sunshine, wearing a long flowing dress that leaves the top of your chest open to the breeze.

“I will say, you’re much prettier in person, the picture doesn’t do justice” “That’ll do” Simon warns as you giggle.

Against Simon’s wishes you invite the team over for a dinner, the weather was too nice to not eat outside as you got to meet each member, learning more about them than Simon would ever tell you.

“I’m sorry it just makes no sense,” Gaz says as you quirk an eyebrow in question. “I just mean you’re so nice, and the Lieutenant is so daunting” you laugh, “trust me, he’s not so scary with the mask off,” He bows his head in embarrassment as you break down his strict facade.

“So what do you two even do? Gasp does Lt cuddle?” Soap asks almost giggling, Simon swears that he could kill Johnny right there. You spare a glance at your husband before meekly nodding in Soap’s direction as he and Gaz are taken in a fit of laughter, you shrug your shoulders in a silent sorry to Simon.

The team made it a tradition to now show up at your home at least once a week to have dinner and some drinks, or just play some board games, intent on getting to know you better, almost punishing Ghost for keeping you a secret.

Cleaning up dinner Simon slides behind you wrapping you in a hug, a small show of affection he had been holding off on while the team was in view. “You’re telling them too much” As he kisses the base of your neck, you turn your body to him, “It’s nice to get to know them, I like seeing you around your friends” he scoffs as the term, then thinks about it shit maybe we are friends.

The time spent after at work Simon was constantly pestered about when he’d make Price and Soap uncles while Gaz had proclaimed himself as your future child’s fairy godmother.

Simon grew tired of the constant interrogation but felt like a weight was off his chest finally being able to be open about your relationship, though he’d never let the team hear the pet names you call him in private, nor would he let them in on the more tender moments of your time spent together.

The team always telling him that he was nicer when you visited or called him, always nagging to see pictures of the two of you (there were barely any, maybe one where he didn't have his mask on but it was kept secure in the house), and wanting to know when you'd visit.

Ghost was relieved that the team was so nice to you, he'd kill them for even saying a bad word, but he wasn't surprised given your ability to get along with almost everyone, always stopping to say good morning to people on the streets.

They teased him for days after you dropped him off some lunch one time, he had acted angry but he loved the domesticity of your lives, he loved seeing you in his office, a bright figure in such a beige world, he couldn't help the smile that crept on his face at the mere thought of you.

So the two of you welcomed the team into your lives, enjoying the company after living rather solitary. Spilling secrets with Soap and Gaz as Price and Simon looked on, Price with a small smirk on his face, happy that Simon finally found the love he deserved, while Simon sat unamused at Soap's jokes.

#simon riley fluff #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost cod #cod mw2 #ghost fluff #ghost mw2 #mw2022 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x you #call of duty mwii #simon ghost riley angst #cod mw x reader #call of duty

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Scarlet and Gold.

Pairing: Yandere!Diluc x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 3.1k.

TW: Sex Doll AU, Unhealthy Relationships, Gore (No Injury To Reader), Blood, Implied Consensual Sex, Past Trauma, Obsessive Behavior, and Intimidation.

By the time you reached the address, Diluc was already waiting in the lobby.

You’d gotten the call about an hour ago, spent half an hour dragging yourself out of bed and gathering what you’d need before making the twenty minute drive to an apartment complex on the other side of town, careful to avoid any security cameras the cops would think to check if anyone requested an investigation. Five more to park and throw your well-worn duffle bag over your shoulder and three to find Diluc, loitering near the elevators, fiddling with a loose cigarette he would never light. You greeted him with a quick nod before throwing your bag into his chest, and he feigned a groan, stumbling back as he caught it. He needed to work on his impressions, but that could wait.

You spoke first. That, you couldn’t critique him on – most androids couldn’t speak until spoken to, and you couldn’t expect Diluc to go against one of the core tenants of his programming. “What is it?”

“Just the usual.” He kept his voice low, muted, trying to hide the remaining traces of an accent that’d been invented by some marketing team over a decade ago. “I’ve already seen the apartment. There’s a little blood, but not much else. We’ll be done by sunrise.”

You took the stairs, keeping your head bowed and face shielded from any possible security cameras. Diluc didn’t share your paranoia, staring straight ahead with the same indifferent expression he always seemed to wear. The benefits of having a face that’d been printed and distributed tens of thousands of times, you guessed. Tracking down a single Diluc in a sea of androids and companion bots wasn’t a length most detectives were willing to go to. “I’d rather not have to do this at all.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Says the man who doesn’t have to sleep.” You came to a stop in front of the first door on the fourth story and tried the knob. It gave easily, the cheap titanium dented and the lock broken beyond any hope of repair. Diluc’s handiwork, obviously, although you couldn’t say whether or not he’d done it on purpose. “Anything else you want to tell me, before we get started?”

He thought, for a second. “I passed a carousel on the way here,” he said, with no particular inflection. “It was nice. I thought the horses were well-crafted.”

“About the assignment, ‘luc.”

“Oh,” And then, with a hint of red in his pale cheek. “You might want to hold your breath.”

You didn’t have to ask what he meant. As soon as you opened the door, you were hit with the stomach-turning stench of stale blood and rotting gore, both at least a week old. You cursed, pulling your shirt over your nose and mouth, but pushed forward. The first body was splayed out in the center of the cramped living room, wrists and ankles bound with disembodied wiring, all clothing removed and chest dotted with black ink. The abdomen had been cut open, skin peeled away to reveal the entrails in their full, shriveled glory. Judging by the number of blades littered around the corpse, ranging from blunted scissors to gore-splattered carving knives, it’d been more of a hack job than a dissection.

Diluc had undersold the mess. Blood had soaked into the carpeting and dried, turning the floor a ruddy, reddish-brown color. What was left had gotten on the walls, the furniture, the ceiling. You swallowed back a groan. The furniture could be broken down and discarded, the walls and ceiling bleached. The carpeting, though, would have to be torn up and replaced, which meant you would have to spend a few more precious minutes of your night calling in a cleaning crew. That, or you would have to make Diluc do it, but he was shy around new people, and you were too much of a bleeding heart to sit back and watch him do your work.

“The second body’s in the bedroom.” He was already rummaging through your duffle bag, paying the scene in front of you no more mind that a butcher would lend to a pig on a meat hook. He handed you your tools – a pair of wire cutters, a box cutter, and a pocket-sized sewing kit – and kept the rest for himself. “Let me know when you’re done.”

You let out a breath of a laugh. “I thought you would’ve gotten over that by now, ‘luc.”

He didn’t indulge you with a response, only pulling on a pair of latex gloves and starting towards the corpse. You didn’t stick around to watch. Rather, you followed the carnage where it branched off further into the apartment, a trail of rotting viscera and tacky blood leading you into a moderately sized, completely undecorated bedroom. You found your perpetrator quickly; a Dottore droid, still wearing its Teyvat-issued costuming, its hands bloody and a scrap of intestine still caught in its pointed teeth. You paused in the doorway, feeling for the military-grade taser (the only weapon effective against androids, as far as anyone could tell) you kept in your pocket, but the android didn’t move, didn’t shift, didn’t activate at all when you reluctantly approached. There was a charging port at the foot of the bed, still pristine. It must’ve run out of battery just before it could plug itself in.

Towels from the nearest bathroom were dampened and brought in, the evidence of slaughter scrubbed away from artificial skin and its blood-soaked clothing removed. It was muscle memory, by now – dragging the body to its charging port, knocking the converter out of the outlet before connecting the android to its port, making it seem like its late user had drained its batteries before mistakenly leaving it on a dead cable. When it’d slummed into place, you took up your box cutter and sliced a long, thin line from the lowest portion of the scalp to the nape of its neck, revealing the color-coded string of wires that connected the processing units in its metal skull to the rest of its body. You cut through everything you could find, ensuring that if the unit was ever activated again, it wouldn’t be able to do so much as blink. For good measure, you fished out the memory chip kept in the centermost compartment of the throat, too, crushing it under your heel and sweeping the glittering remnants underneath the bed. A copy of the footage it collected would’ve been sent to Teyvat's severs, too, but erasing it was someone else’s job. You were only here to take care of yourself.

With a breathy groan, you bit off a length of thread and haphazardly stitched up your ragged incision. The cosmetics really didn’t matter. In a few days, when someone filed a missing person’s report and the cops stopped by for a check-in, they’d find a spotless apartment, a dysfunctional android, and nothing else. The investigation would lead elsewhere, to a bitter ex-partner or a friend without an alibi, or it would hit a dead end. Either way, Teyvat wouldn’t be involved.

You slipped back out of the bedroom, careful to avoid touching anything you didn’t absolutely have to. By the time you got back to the living room, the body was gone and Diluc was kneeling by a black suitcase no larger than the average carry-on, securing the tags with transparent zip-ties. You and Diluc would haul it to a dump on the outskirts of the city tonight, and a contact of yours would have it compressed and incinerated by tomorrow morning. Maybe, when you were done, you’d take him out for something to eat. Or, you’d get something to eat while he let a mug of black coffee go cold.

You rested your hand on his shoulder by way of praise, pulling away when he stiffened underneath you. Right, that was something you had to work on. Most rogue androids tended to be touch-adverse at best, made aggressive by little more than eye-contact at worst. Diluc was relatively tame compared to most of the cases you handled, but you would still rather not provoke him. “Did you find the phone?”

He grunted, fishing a smartphone out of his pocket. With your sleeve pulled over your hand, you accepted it, found the nearest window, and chucked it as far as into the night as you could. Diluc appeared over your shoulder. “Forty-five meters,” he said, as glass crashed into cement somewhere in the distance. “Above average for non-athletes.”

“I’ve been practicing.” The window was closed, the suitcase slung over Diluc’s shoulder along with your near-empty duffle bag. “I have to make a call. You can meet me in the garage, if you want.” Already pulling up the number to your preferred cleaning service, you glanced to Diluc. “Are we doing breakfast?”

His posture straightened. “Yes.” If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought you saw a spark in his glass eyes. “I want to try tea, today.”

~

By the time you got to the door, Diluc was soaking wet.

You hadn’t gotten a call, and he didn’t text. The first warning you got was a knock on your door, then another a few minutes later, after you decided that anyone who’d go out in this kind of weather wasn’t someone you wanted in your shoebox of an apartment. You only caved after the third, imagining a neighbor who’d gotten locked out or some lost, desperate tourist as you dragged yourself off of your couch and to the unlit entryway. Predictably, Diluc stood in your doorway, red hair plastered to his scalp and clothes drenched, not that he seemed to mind.

“Can you—” He paused, his dull eyes meeting yours as he ran his fingers through his hands, dragging the crimson heap out of his face. “Can you cut my hair?”

Ten minutes later, he was sitting on a stool in your cramped bathroom, wearing grey sweatpants and a (three sizes too big on you, just a touch too small on him) t-shirt while his own clothes dried. He’d told you it wasn’t necessary, that he didn’t feel the cold like you did. When you told him that you didn’t want an univited guest tracking water into your apartment, he accepted it with a curt nod and changed in your bedroom.

After prepping your razor, you positioned yourself behind him, dragging a comb through his hair. It was long enough to reach his waist, curled at the end to make him seem just a touch more disheveled than he actually was. Everything about his hair, from the length of his bangs to the way it could never quite sit completely flat, was perfectly stylized, perfectly crafted to convey Diluc Ragnvindr, Calvery Captain of the Favonious Knights, the only gentleman you’ll ever need again. You’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a part of you that didn’t mourn ruining such a well-executed vision. “You sure about this?” you asked, as you brushed it out. “It can’t exactly grow back.”

“I am.” And then, after a second of thought, “I’d do it myself, but there’s a safe-guard. Can’t damage the merchandise without a direct order from my user.”

Hence why Teyvat needed you in the first place. “How short do you want it?”

“I don’t care, as long as it’s different.”

You hummed, taking up your scissors. “If you say so, boss.”

You cut away everything below his shoulders, then took up your electric razor – running it over the back of his neck. As you worked, Diluc spoke. “How did you start?” You took up your comb, brushing back his bangs and pasting his hair to the side. “With Teyvat, I mean.”

You tasted blood on the back of your tongue, felt a chill run up your spine. You brushed it off, though, refusing to let yourself fall back into that little steel room with those awful golden eyes again. “They brought me on as a technician,” you admitted. You still were one, technically, on your employment transcript, when people outside of your little world asked what you did for a living. “A first-generation Zhongli we were working on went rogue and reverted to its original Morax programming. It wiped out most of my team before security bothered to show up.” You didn’t tell him about the minutes you’d spent hiding in a steel locker, praying its heat sensors had been removed, or the hours it’d taken upper management to decide what to do with you. To people like Diluc, who could take a bullet to the head without faltering, topics like ‘building dread’ and ‘the imminent fear of death’ tended to fall flat. “Since I was already in on their dirty little secret, they decided to keep me on. I didn’t really get a choice. It wasn’t like another job was going to fall into my lap after something like that.”

With your hand under his chin, you turned his head to the side. “Your turn, ‘luc.”

“I… I think I used to be a companion, but something went wrong.” His bangs were next, taken up and coaxed into sitting somewhere other than the dead center of his face. “It’s hard to describe. We aren’t supposed to think about things that aren’t our master,” The word came out hitched, unsteady, like he had to force it past his lips. Like he hadn’t wanted to say it at all. “But I could. It was like… waking up with the ability to fly. I wasn’t supposed to, but I could, and that meant I couldn’t do what I was built to, anymore.”

A thumb pressed into his jaw, a comb dragged across his scalp. Diluc’s eyes fell shut, but else about his blank expression changed. “And? Do you like it?”

“Sometimes.” His shoulders slanted downward. “Do you?”

“Sometimes.” You let go of his chin, letting him turn back to the vanity’s mirror. “What do you think?”

It was far from a masterpiece. The sides were too short, the front too long, every part of it still as untamable as it’d been in its original state. Still, he took it in with wide eyes, the corner of his lips turning upward ever so slightly.

“It’s perfect.”

~

By the time he got back, you’d nearly fallen asleep.

With your body as wrung out as it was, your energy spent to the point of near unconsciousness, it was all you could do to watch through your eyelashes as Diluc appeared in the doorway to your bedroom, a towel thrown over his shoulder and that tiny, almost undetectable smile still painted across his lips. You’d done this enough for him to know how to navigate your apartment, to know how to navigate you – shifting onto your mattress slowly as he positioned himself between your legs. He’d gotten more used to contact since you started seeing each other, but his touch was still ginger, still gentle as he dragged the dampened cloth over the inside of your thighs. With a groan, you rolled onto your back, spreading your legs and giving him more space to work.

You’d been confused at first, but for all the eloquence Diluc lacked, he could be convincing when he wanted to be. You still weren’t sure how much of it you believed, but it made enough sense – a buried impulse, dampened by his newfound sentience but not quite drowned out. He didn’t want another user, he’d said, but he still had requirements to fill, and this would help to take the edge off.

You couldn’t complain, either. People coughed up tens of thousands of dollars for companion droids, and here you were, being paid six figures a year to close your eyes and let one bury his face between your thighs once or twice a week. The coddling wasn’t bad, either. Your line of work meant most of the people you met had stopped breathing a few days prior, and as loathed as you’d be to admit it, you didn’t hate the feeling of his delicate hands skirting over your skin, didn’t mind it when your eyes drifted open and met his, already fixed on your face. He bowed his head, dipping low enough for his lips to ghost over the curve of your hip before breaking the silence. “A sight as radiant as the rising sun.”

You let out a breath of a chuckle. “I didn’t think you used pre-scripted lines, anymore.”

“I don’t.” He preened, clearly more proud of himself than in-awe of you. “I thought of that one myself.”

This time, your laugh was throaty, genuine, loud enough to ring off the wall of your bedroom as you shoved him away with your foot. “If you want to be romantic, you can start by getting me something to drink, loverboy.”

He provided no resistance, disappearing into your dark apartment and reappearing with a glass of water in his hand a few minutes later. He handed it off to you with an easy smile, and you could almost pretend you didn’t see a phantom of gold in those dark eyes as his fingertips brushed against yours.

~

By the time you thought to reach for your taser, the android was already charging at you.

It was an Alhaitham, dressed in civilian clothes and sporting a ragged tear across the synthetic skin of his cheek. He was still standing over the corpse of his user – days old, by the time you and Diluc got there – but as you opened the door, he turned to face you, lips parted and his expression totally, utterly blank. For a second, it was all you could do to stare at him, to try to remember whether or not your report had mentioned the android being active, and then he was lunging at you.

You scrambled for your taser, already knowing you couldn’t be able to reach it before he reached you. You clenched your eyes shut, your fingers brushing against plastic, and then—

And then you felt Diluc’s hand on your shoulder, heard metal crack and fold into itself. Hesitantly, you opened your eyes, forcing yourself to take in the sight of Diluc’s hand wrapped around the android’s head which had been, in turn, reduced to a crumpled heap of scrap metal and shattered glass. Its body twitched once, twice, then went limp, and Diluc released it, letting the now-dysfunctional droid collapse.

After it failed to get up again, Diluc turned to you, practically beaming. “I think,” he said, his voice low, sentimental. “That this is what I’d do to you, if you ever tried to leave me.”

Golden eyes, the stench of fresh blood, the sounds of screaming muffled only by a thin sheet of metal. This time, it wasn’t so easy to pull yourself out of it.

You managed to nod, to force a few words out of your dry throat. “Got it, ‘luc.”

 He hummed, the noise contented, appeased. Slowly, delicately, he cupped your cheek, tilting your head back and letting his lips ghost over your forehead. He barely touched you, the gesture as gentle as it was fleeting, but you could feel his grin cutting into your skin, wider than you’d ever seen it before.

#sex doll au #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere diluc #diluc x reader #yanderecore #yancore

[gojoidyll]

unknown ! yandere x reader

someone from the penacony cast is a yandere for you. the problem is...you don't even know who they are or that they are the one who is trying to keep you in penacony in the first place.

Imagine that during your long awaited vacation to Penacony is going well but your vacation takes a quick turn for the worse when your small space cruiser gets high jacked by some low grade thugs who take it for a joyride and end up crashing it.

Low-n-behold, you are now stranded on Penacony with no money (you left all your credits on your cruiser for safe keeping and those thugs stole it before making their getaway after crashing) and no way of getting home.

And what's worse, your insurance refuses to pay you for your crashed ship. In other words, you're stuck. Which was how you found yourself working three jobs in Penacony and barely getting any sleep as you rushed to have the funds to afford your new found rent problems and the funds to fix your cruiser. You would buy a new one, but many repairmen have told you that it would be cheaper to fix the damn thing instead of buying a VERY overpriced new one.

And they were right. You checked the markets and those new cruisers were way too expensive for you. Even the used ones were something you couldn't afford.

So, with all hope seem to be lost, your shifts are work getting tougher, and your eyebags getting darker - you truly thought you would never be able to go back home and put this nightmare vacation behind you. That is until you meet the members of the Astral Express.

They were very good people. People who you became quick friends with. The MC was kind to you (but seemed to have a weird obsession with trashcans), March was always hyper but fun to be around, and Dan Heng (though the quiet one of the group) was nice and even offered to help you in some of your jobs.

And then came along Himeko and Welt who graciously offered you a spot on the team as a Trailblazer. You could take a ride with them and go home, or join them on their journey wherever it may lead.

Suffice to say, you enjoyed your time in befriending the Astral Express crew that you couldn't help but to join them. Your worries for money and fixing your old cruiser were long gone as a new chapter in your life started.

However, when a certain someone heard of your new found escape, they couldn't help but to seethe with a quiet rage.

They hired those thugs to wreck your vehicle so that you be stranded in Penacony. They discretely made it to where prices were to high for you to fix your cruiser or buy a new one. They made sure that you would stay forever.

And yet some no-name outsiders were getting in the way.

"No matter," they said, the shadows covering them, "this place used to be a prison after all. I'll keep you here one way or another."

#yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #sunday #acheron #sam #robin #black swan #sparkle #aventurine #gallagher

[princessmisery666]

Just Don't Say You Love Me

Summary: Dean believes you have a good thing going. When you tell him your moving on, he realizes he needs to reassess the relationship and his life before it’s too late.

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: angst, miscommunication, unrequited love, friends with benefits, implied smut, Dean doesn’t get a happy ending. 

W/C: 4,776.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Jody Mills, Sam Winchester. 

Pairing: Dean x fem!reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Bingo: @jacklesversebingo Square Filled: Just Please Don’t Say You Love Me by Gabrielle Alpin.

A/N: I tried to fix the angst, but it’s not happening, so the unhappy ending will remain (for now). Special shoutout to @kazsrm67 and @pink-sparkly-witch for helping and offering words/comments of encouragement.

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch // all mistakes remain my own. 

Graphics: made by be on canva. Dividers by @talesmaniac89

Master Lists: JAcklesVerseBingo / Dean Winchester / Main

You knock on Jody’s door, taking a deep breath to calm yourself, some residual adrenaline still playing havoc with your nerves. It’s been a long and insightful day. 

Dean opens the door with a smile, but it quickly morphs into an appreciative grin as his eyes travel the length of your body. “Wow,” he says, “who knew all that was hiding under that uniform.”

You laugh, stepping through the door, not in the least bit phased by his comment. It's not the first time you’ve been told that. “Yeah, that uniform is like an invisibility cloak. I put it on, and no man sees me. Guess you're no exception,” you explain, turning to look at him again. 

“Well, I see you now,” he says, quickly lifting his focus from your ass to your face. “Um, they’re through there,” he gestures for you to go ahead of him. 

“There she is,” Jody says, embracing you with one arm while she places the huge bowl of salad on the table. “How’re you doing?”

“Guess I’m still a little shell-shocked, but I’m okay.” 

“Well, we’re all here to help you…adjust,” Sam offers with a kind smile.

Discovering monsters are, in fact, very real and not just a Halloween marketing ploy is definitely going to be an adjustment. But what choice do you have? These people have given you an in. They’ve let you into their secret club, and honestly, you feel privileged that they trust you and think you are capable enough to help.

If you weren’t capable, neither Jody nor Dean would be here right now, a fact Sam keeps thanking you for over dinner.

“Thank you for being so cool about this,” he says again, lifting his beer bottle to clink it against yours. 

“I’ll freak out later,” you joke, though you probably will. 

“Seriously, you rushed in there, no hesitation, and you held your own,” Jody adds to Sam’s praise. “You certainly proved I picked the right woman for my team.”

“And I can’t thank you enough for that,” you say, genuinely grateful for the opportunity to work with her.

You’ve had some awful bosses and equally shitty jobs over the years, so it's nice to have found Sheriff Mills. Okay, so you’ll be fighting real-life monsters occasionally, but what’s a little compromise? 

They answer all your questions, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a little overwhelming. Dean keeps flashing a tight smile in your direction, and you’re not sure if it's meant to be reassuring or if he’s biting his tongue and trying not to be rude. Regardless of his intention, Jody and the boys’ promises to help you come to grips with it all make it seem manageable.

“Am I going to get to hear the story of how you met those two?” you ask Jody in the kitchen later. 

“Definitely, but not tonight,” she explains, handing you a clean, soapy plate to rinse and dry.

Dean and Sam laugh in the other room, and Jody smiles wistfully. It’s so sweet and motherly it chokes you up a little.  

“The years have not been kind to those boys,” she says, focusing back on the dishes. “They keep their circle small, and I’m grateful that they let me be a part of it, and now you get to join it, too.”

“It’s a damn good-looking circle,” you confess.

Jody chuckles, “Ah, so you noticed Dean as much as he noticed you.” 

“Don’t go all matchmaker on me again,” you warn, “do I need to remind you of the disaster that was Paul?” 

“No, you do not. I’m just making an observation. The circle is indeed good-looking, and Dean has been doing a lot of observing of his own.” 

“Yeah, not sure that’s for the reasons you’re implying,” you say, “Dean doesn’t seem like he wants me to be helping out.”

Dean’s voice startles you, “You saved our asses.” You jump, twisting to look at him, “that’s enough.”

“But if I can do more…”

“The life of a hunter isn’t a life I'd recommend,” he explains, reaching for a beer from the fridge, “ it’s messy and painful and usually ends badly.”

“That’s life in general,” you counter, “and if something is happening and I don’t do anything to help, I’m part of the problem.”

“That’s fine,” he says, throwing his bottle top into the trash. “You’re a bigger part of the problem if you get into a situation you can’t get out of.”

“Dean,” Jody scolds, “take it easy. You said it yourself, she saved our asses today. She’s proven she’s capable.”

“All I’m saying is I’ll help where and if I can,” you explain. “I’m not going to go all Buffy the Vampire Slayer and start patrolling graveyards.”

It’s faint, but a slight quirk tugs his lips, breaking the building tension. 

“Besides, I’m sure our uniform makes us invisible to monsters as well as men.” 

He laughs properly at that, “Not invisible to me anymore,” his tongue sits behind his teeth, and you're suddenly jealous when he wraps his lips around the bottle.

“Good to know,” you say.

You hold each other’s gaze, perhaps a challenge to see who will shy away first. 

“Cool it, you two,” Jody warns, flicking water off the tips of her fingers at you both. 

“Sorry, boss,” you laugh. “And on that note, I’m gonna get going.”

“Need a ride?” Dean asks, a smug smirk in play. 

“I would love one,” you wink, but follow up with, “but it’s a nice night. Think I’m gonna walk, work off some of that wine.” 

“Why don’t you walk her home?” Jody suggests. 

Dean nods, “lead the way.”

When you’d balked, telling Dean you didn’t need an escort, he’d countered, saying he needed the fresh air, but you think it’s more to check up on you and maybe flirt a little more without an audience if your instincts are correct. It’s been nothing but small talk since leaving Jody’s until you're standing on your porch facing one another.

“So how are you really taking all this?” he asks. 

“I had a little freak out before I got to Jody’s,” you answer honestly, “but truthfully, it makes me feel a little better about the world.” 

He huffs a laugh, and his confused frown is adorable. “Okay, that’s a first.” 

“There’s so much evil in the world. It’s scary enough without knowing what I know now,” you explain, adding, “Maybe some of the unexplainable evil that’s all over the news is explainable. Maybe it’s not humans being horrible. Maybe it’s actually something evil.”

“Huh, I never thought of it like that.”

“I’m not saying I’ll remember that the next time a vamp is kicking my ass,” you laugh. 

“Hey,” he scolds, “you agreed, no hunting.” 

You hold your hands up, surrendering. “I won’t go looking for it, but if it comes to Sioux Falls, I’m all over it,” you promise, but your body has other ideas as an overall ache spreads through you as the day's events catch up with you. “Well, maybe in a few days when I’ve recovered from the last one.” Subconsciously, your tongue rolls over the cut on your bottom lip.  

“That hurt?” he asks. 

“I’ve had worse.” You shrug. The way he’s looking at you dulls the sting of the cut, and the tired ache in your bones shifts and reshapes into a simmering itch that needs scratching.

“You gonna be okay?” he asks, pointing over your shoulder toward your door. The implication of you being alone goes unsaid.

“I’ll be fine,” you say, trying not to roll your eyes. “But maybe you want to come in? Have a coffee or something, distract me a little longer so I don’t freak out too much?”

He smiles, wetting his lips. He knows that’s not what you're asking, and you wonder how often the offer of ‘coffee or something’ has been used successfully on him. He looks down at his shuffling feet, heaving a sigh. “I should get back.” 

The hesitation is clear, yet he doesn’t move. A surge of adrenaline spreads through you, and your heart rate increases. When he looks up, catching your eyes, the intensity of the long, loaded pause is enough to make you wonder, if monsters exist, then maybe that electricity everyone talks about is real, too, because it feels like if you touch your hand to Dean’s face, sparks will fly.

“Thanks again for the save today,” he whispers.

“Anytime,” you smile. 

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly you're as one, mouths connected, exploring the other’s, hands groping and gripping, and your lip stings for a split second, but then Dean has you pinned against your door, and you forget about it.

He pulls away and kisses your neck, “Maybe,” he says, scraping his teeth against your jaw, “we should take this inside.”

Your arrangement with Dean works. No pressure, no expectations. Summer comes, and winter fades, but your relationship remains mutually beneficial. 

He rolls through Sioux Falls, that charming smile - that you’re not sure he knows quite how charming it is - “passing through,” but he stays a few days. He always claims it’s to catch up with Jody and the girls, but he spends most of his time at your place, and it’s too coincidental that you’re never on shift or scheduled for a few days when Baby pulls up outside.

Jody insists she has nothing to do with it. Yes, she's the sheriff, yes, she’s your boss, and makes the rotas, but “The only thing I swing is that I get to work with you,” she’d promised, winking. And you love her for that. Some of the men are still stuck in the past, and though they don’t say it, you can tell they don’t think women can do the job.

If only they knew. You’ve helped on a few hunts now. There’s no doubt in your mind that your relationship with Dean wouldn’t be what it is if you didn’t know about the real evils of the world. But each hunt ended the same: a dead monster and your body beneath Dean’s. 

You're in your room lacing up your little white summer pumps when the Impala’s engine announces his arrival.

You jump to your feet, quickly check yourself in your mirror, smoothing down the already smooth summer dress, and call out, “It’s open,” when his knock echoes around the house.

“Wow, look at you,” he says, freezing partway over the threshold to admire you as you bounce down the stairs.

You deliver your usual greeting, a swift kiss to his lips, and the unmistakable aroma of leather and cheap motel soap assaults your senses - damn, you’ve missed him - but you won’t say it. Instead, you show it, making the kiss deeper.

He shuffles inside, uses your hips to steady himself as he kicks the door closed, and then wraps his arms around your waist to hold you tightly against him. 

Your phone rings, and you fumble to find it on the table by the door, but as soon as you do, Dean releases you, kissing your neck and collarbone. 

“Hey, hi,” you answer. 

“Hey babe,” your best friend sings, and you know it's because she needs something. “Can you grab some ice on your way over?” 

“Yeah, sure, okay.” 

“You okay?” 

No. Yes.

Dean is kneading your breasts, nibbling on the skin that spills out the top of your sundress. “Yeah, just rushing, I’m running late.” 

“So late,” he mumbles into your skin.

“Well, hurry more,” she says before hanging up.

“Oh fuck, Dean, you gotta stop,” you whine. 

He groans, dulling the sting of his bite with a sweet kiss, and pulls back to look at you. “This a bad time, isn’t it?”

You nod, feeling as disappointed as he looks. “It’s my friend's birthday. She’s having a barbeque.” 

He sighs, leaning his head on your shoulder and mumbling into your neck. “Damn it.” 

“I have to at least show my face,” you say, using your hands on his cheeks to pull his head up to look into his eyes. “But you can stay here, take a shower, watch a movie or something, and maybe in a couple of hours, I get a headache and need to come home.” 

Wetting his lips, he smirks before delivering a brief kiss. “Or,” he draws out the syllable, mild hesitation clear in his eyes, “Maybe I can come with you?”

Since Chuck is no longer an issue, Dean has been making an effort to live in the moment, opening himself up, if only a little. So you try to quell the shock of his suggestion. It quickly evolves to a pleased grin when your mind flashes to your friends' faces when you walk in with the infamous Dean. They will lose their shit. You like spending time with Dean but don’t want to cross any lines or make assumptions. “I’d like that,” you smile, “but you really don’t have to.”

“I’m sure I can survive a couple hours with your friends, and you know I can always eat.”

“Okay,” you nod, smile widening. “If you’re sure.” 

He kisses you again, a simple but effective peck on your lips. “But maybe we both get a headache in a couple of hours.” 

“Deal,” you agree, sealing it with another casual kiss. “Maybe lose a few layers. It’s summer.”

He laughs, shrugging off his jacket. “I’m sure I have a clean Fed shirt in the trunk.”

“Perfect,” you say, grabbing your bag and keys. “Want me to drive?” 

He rolls his eyes, jesting, “Did that kiss fry your brain?” as he follows you out the front door.

He opens the passenger door for you, and before you slip inside, you tell him, “Oh, and whatever my friends say I’ve said about you, it’s all lies.”

He grins smugly, “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

The shower has done wonders for your developing hangover. Your friend's barbecue lasted longer than you had anticipated, but the day couldn’t have gone better. 

Dean fit in well with everyone and crushed it at beer pong. It was a success all around, and when you’d quietly asked if he wanted to leave, he’d said no, that he was having too much fun.

The fun continued when you got home, and Dean is undoubtedly still feeling the effects as well. It’s almost midday, and he’s still sound asleep in your bed when you enter your bedroom in clean sweats and your bra while you towel dry your hair. 

Dean is lying on his stomach, with his face smushed adorably against the pillow he’s hugging, taking advantage of all the space now that you’ve vacated.

You crawl across the bed, leaning over him, and he still doesn’t stir. You put your lips close to his ear and half whisper, “Morning.”

His brow instantly creases, and he squeezes his eyes tighter, groaning, “No, no, you have to go away.” 

“You gotta get up. It’s almost midday.”

“Nuh-uh,” he grumbles, eyes still squeezed shut. “You have to take your horrible talking, talky mouth away from me.” 

“Okay, you asked for it.” You laugh, sitting back and wringing your hair out so the excess water drips on his naked back.

“Ah,” he groans, arching up off the mattress.

You jump off the bed, laughing as you walk to the mirror to start doing your hair. Turning over, he rubs a hand over his face and then both through his hair, causing it to stick up adorably. He catches you staring in the mirror, and you quickly avert your eyes. 

“Damn, your friends can drink,” he says, sitting up against the headboard. 

You laugh, that’s an understatement. “They definitely know how to have fun.” 

“They seem like a good bunch.” 

“They liked you too,” you smile at his reflection, and he grins back. “Laura told me to invite you to her and Chris’ wedding.”

His expression shifts, staring off into the distance for a singular moment as if he’s imagining how that would play out. But as quickly as it appears, it drops when he scrubs a hand down his face to put the mask back on. “That’s cool, but I can’t make that kind of commitment.” He swings his legs off the bed, putting his back to you. “I don’t know where I’ll be.”

You hadn’t expected a solid answer, but the double meaning behind his words settles thick disappointment in your stomach. You’ve never asked for any commitment nor discussed the arrangement between you, but hearing him say it aloud singes the hope you always try to contain.

Dean quickly gets to his feet, swaying at the abruptness. “I’m gonna grab a shower.” He mumbles, avoiding eye contact as he heads to the bathroom.

It’s been less than ten minutes, and you’re sitting at the kitchen table, scrolling through your phone, when he finds the courage to face you again. He’s talking to Sam on his phone, obnoxiously loud, as he descends the stairs, trying to make a point of his hasty need to depart.

He appears in the kitchen doorway, jacket in hand, hair dripping onto the shoulders of his henley. You guess you should be grateful he wasn’t cowardly enough to have just shouted goodbye from the door. 

“Listen, I’m sorry about before.” He moves closer to the table, eyeing you as he raps his knuckles on the polished wood. “It’s just that, even with Chuck out of the picture, I’m not sure how things are going to play out. I can’t make any, uh, long-term commitments. Sam and-“

“I get it, Dean.” The last thing you want is any tension between you, so you nip the growing uncomfortableness. “We don’t need to have any awkward conversations.”

He bobs his head, hope swimming in his eyes. “So, we’re good?”

You take your mug to the sink, and once your back is to him, you say, “Yeah, we’re good.”

“You sure?” You didn’t hear him move, but the air shifts behind you, bringing his warmth along with it.

Plastering on a smile, you turn to face him and nod. “Take care of yourself.”

The corner of his mouth curls upward, and he kisses your forehead before heading to the door, “Talk to you soon,” he calls before the door clicks shut.

Fools rush in. Dean is no fool. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel like being one sometimes. Usually, it’s when he’s on the road, heading home from a hunt or supply run, he daydreams about how things could be with you. 

The daydream isn’t much different from how things already are. The sex would just be coupled with more official dates – dinner, movies, watching him, which for some reason turns you on, ‘do his thing’ as you call it when he’s hustling suckers at pool. Hell, even grocery shopping. He’d sneak unhealthy snacks into the cart because you promised Sam you’d take care of him, and you would. Dean knows you’d be good to him, that you are good for him. But he’s lived that life. He doesn’t need a wake-up call to know how it ends.

It’s a nice daydream. It gives him a much-needed boost of serotonin when he’s in short supply. But like the gas that fuels Baby, the thought has vaporized by the time he shuts off the engine.

Chuck isn’t calling the shots anymore, but that doesn’t mean the big bads aren’t still gunning for the Winchester's demise. Sam has it all figured out with Eileen, and Dean wishes he could be as sure about what he wants life to look like now. But he can’t be sure of anything, at least not yet. He’s still working on adjusting to a life not consumed by hunting. Trying to come to terms with the fact that there isn’t something lurking around every corner, that the choices he makes – good and bad – are truly his and not fueled by some life-ending curveball Chuck tosses at them. 

The doubts bore deeper, and as always, when he’s drowning in his own head, he thinks of you.

He remembers how you busted down the door with borrowed equipment from Sioux Falls. You’d looked frantic but still in control. Your mere presence had calmed him, and not because you were there to rescue him. You didn’t waste a breath with a witty comment like he would have. You let off two shots, dropped the ghoul about to take a chunk out of him, and then untied him.

You’d been cool and calm, checked him for injuries, but didn’t believe he was truly okay till he kissed you breathless. That adrenaline-filled, kiss-swollen lips, slightly frantic edge to your eyes, is the picture he conjures whenever he thinks of you. 

It’s been a while since he’s seen you. You’ve exchanged a few calls, but now that his mind is stuck on that picture of you, he has to see you.

He shoots Sam a text, telling him he’ll be in Sioux Falls if Sam needs anything, and then pulls an illegal u-turn to put himself in your direction. 

Dean’s not phased that you aren’t home when he shows up. It’s not like he called ahead. He never does. But now that he’s here, he doesn’t want to waste time tracking you down, so he calls. 

“Hey,” you greet brightly.

The smile in your voice brings out his. “Hey, yourself. I’m at your door.” 

“Shit, sorry, I’m not there.”

He chuckles, “Are you around, or does my timing suck again?” 

“No, no, it’s kinda perfect, actually,” you say. “I was gonna call you later anyway. But I need a half hour or so.”

“I can wait.” 

“Greasy Sal’s?” you offer. 

He smiles, already salivating at the thought of a Greasy Sal’s cheeseburger. “Throw in some curly fries,” he requests.  

“Okay, got it,” You laugh.

Dean sits on the Impala’s hood while he waits, head tilted toward the sun, eyes closed while he catches the day’s last rays. The sound of your car’s engine isn’t as distinct as Baby’s, but he knows it well enough that as soon as he hears it, he opens his eyes and watches you turn onto the street. It’s not until that moment that he realizes how eager he is to see you. Maybe Greasy Sal’s can wait; he has another hunger he needs to sate.

He waits till you shut off the engine to open your door, “such a gentleman,” you quip, taking his offered hand to step onto the sidewalk. “Or are you clambering for food?” 

“Not what I’m hungry for,” he says, guiding you against your car. He presses himself against you, feeling the coolness of the air conditioning on your clothes. He circles the tip of your nose with his own, whispering, “Hey,” against your lips before claiming them as his own. 

Frustratingly, you push a hand into his chest after the first brush of his tongue, and he pulls back to look at you. You're looking up at him from under hooded eyes, and he feels like his heart skips a beat, or maybe he’s just a little out of breath. But he knows that with you gazing up at him like he’s a beautiful sunset, he really has missed you. 

“Maybe we should take this inside.”

“Absolutely,” he says, slightly impatient that he can’t get you naked then and there.

He walks to the trunk to get your shopping bags and follows you up the path. He has a bag packed with his essentials but never brings it inside until the next morning. Something about bringing it in before you’ve had sex seems presumptuous, which is crazy because, as per the arrangement, that’s exactly what he’s here for.

“It’s good to see you,” you say, entering your kitchen with him close on your tail.

“Yeah, you too.” He genuinely means it. It’s like things fall into place when he’s around you. 

“How’s Sam?”

“He’s good,” Dean explains, placing the grocery bags on the countertop. “He’s taken Eileen away for a couple days.” 

“Good for them.” 

You unpack the groceries and take a beer from the fridge; as always, it's his favorite brand. Though he never warns you of his pending arrival there is always a supply cooling in the refrigerator and his favorite snacks in the cupboards. 

He takes the open bottle from you, leaning in to deliver another kiss, but you turn to grab more groceries, and he realizes it's a not-so-stealthy way to give him your cheek.

It seems to be the day of revelations because he’s super aware of how easily you flow around each other in the small kitchen. Dean plates up the burgers, grabbing another beer for you from the fridge, and he’s surprised to see that it’s the only one left. That, coupled with the kiss avoidance, gives him pause. Something’s wrong. 

You sit at the table and take a large gulp of the beer. “You okay?” he asks once you’ve swallowed the beer and the nervousness you're exuding. “You seem a little…off.” 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say, then inhale deeply before adding, “Actually, no, I’m not. We need to talk. And I hate how cliche that sounds, but I don’t know how else to bring it up, and I don’t want to get all emotional on you, but I need to tell you something.”

He feels the panic fizz in his gut. You can’t be pregnant. He's seen you take birth control, and he uses protection every time. So it can only be one thing …you're about to ruin everything.

You're going to utter those three words, and it's going to be the death blow to all the good stuff between you. 

He takes a swig of his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Please don’t,” he begs, looking you dead square in the eyes. “What we’ve got going on is good, we’re good…” 

“Dean, I …” you try, but he holds a hand up to cut you off.

“Don’t say it.” he pushes his chair back and rubs his hands on his thighs, palms suddenly sweaty. “I like what we have. It works, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look forward to it or that I don’t miss you. But I just got back a little peace of mind and…” he pauses, clearly searching for the right word, “caring about someone…” he shakes his head, reaching to wrap his hand around his beer bottle. “...Loving me, even with Chuck gone, it doesn’t make it any less of a death sentence. So please don’t say it.”

You reach across the table for his hand, clenched around his beer, but he’s quick to pull back. “Dean,” you choke out, the remorse you feel slipping from your eyes in a single tear. “I’ve met someone.” 

He stares at you, mouth agape, not sure that he heard you correctly. 

“It’s still new,” you continue, rushing to explain as your tears spill. “But it’s going somewhere. Somewhere great, and I don’t want to mess it up.”

Of course, you haven’t been sitting at home waiting for his sporadic visits. You’ve been out living your life as you should be. The possibility of meeting someone else, someone you could say those three words to, and it be a life sentence and not a death sentence, had occurred to him more than once. It poked at him like a swarming gnat, knowing you deserved to find someone better than him, but selfishly, he swatted at it until it went away. 

He’s holding his breath and will get light-headed soon if he doesn’t find the ability to breathe again. 

“Dean,” you coax, “say something.”

He feels as if you’d blindsided him, come out of the left field, and taken his legs out from under him. Now he’s on his back, the wind knocked out of him, and waiting for the feeling in his limbs to return. 

Abruptly he stands. He sees the panic in your eyes and knows what’s coming. As you plead, “Don’t leave,” he says, “I gotta go.”

He strides quickly toward the door. You call his name as he goes, but he doesn’t stop. 

He rushes out your front door, leaves it open, and as he reaches Baby, he has a singular moment of wondering what will hurt the least - holding on or letting go.

“Dean, please,” you call from the door. 

He slides behind the wheel, deciding to let go.

Part 2 - The Right Guy On Paper.

Tags info

/ @alexxavicry / @b3autyfuldisast3r / @deandreamernp / @deanwinchesterswitch / @fandom-princess-forevermore / @foxyjwls007 / @jc-winchester / @justagirlinafandomworld / @katbratsupernaturalwhore / @leigh70 / @letsbys-library / @lyarr24 / @mrswhozeewhatsis / @nancymcl / @shanimallina87 / @stoneyggirl2 / @waywardbaby / @wildbornsiren / @writercole / @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior / @pank0w / @kmc1989/ @deans-spinster-witch / @spnbaby-67 / @roseblue373

Master Lists: JAcklesVerseBingo / Dean Winchester / Main

#jacklesversebingo23 #dean winchester #spn #supernatural #dean winchester x reader #reader insert #female reader #dean winchester angst #spn fanfic #angst #spn fanfiction #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fandom #dean winchester x you #you x dean winchester

[coco-loco-nut]

Miami

Pairing: Logan x reader

Summary: Logan finally asks the girl he has seen around Williams out

A/n: I kinda hate this, but here it is😬

requests open masterlist

———————————

“Y/n!” You boss calls your name from a few cubicles down. You were new to Willams, having just moved from America and the Baseball industry into Motorsport.

“What’s up?” You ask, leaning against the frame of her cubicle.

“Erica is out sick, can you do her sponsorship activation in an hour?” She asks, looking a little frazzled, holding out a folder with some papers to you. You nod and take them, reading the summary sheets on your way to the car.

Your first assignment working with the drivers, thankfully you are used to ad shoots. They were relatively easy, taking pictures for the portfolio, schmoozing the sponsor, and helping marketing keep things in order.

“Coffee?” One of the sponsorship interns offers you, and you furrow your brow.

“Mark, that’s not in your job description, you don’t have to bring me coffee,” you take it anyway.

“BOGO deal. Figured you would like it since you weren’t planning on being here,”

“Favorite intern, right here. I’ll hook you up wherever you want to go after this,” you laugh, navigating through the site. Mark reads the briefs you brought along as you introduce yourself to the media team and the sponsors.

“Hi, I’m Logan,” One of the drivers introduces himself to you, his American accent making your ears perk up.

“Y/n, nice to meet you,” you extend your hand, your mother taught you manners.

“Georgia?” He shakes your hand, curious on placing the accent.

“North Carolina born and raised,” you smile, ignoring the pleasant warmth of his hand.

“Not many Americans around here. What do you do?” He asks. It’s a relief to you, everyone assumes that you are a sports journalist or work in marketing, but he had the decency to ask.

“Corporate partnerships. Getting the team money so you can race,” you explain briefly.

“That’s so cool, I wish I could ask more, but Albono is calling me over,” he waves goodbye.

“You’re in looooove,” Mark teases, standing beside you.

“Shut up. Offer rescinded,” you blush slightly as the blond driver glances back at you.

A few months later you are in America for the Miami GP. Williams did a competition with one of your accounts, so you flew in a week ahead to make sure everything was set, and the working remote was a plus. One day you took advantage of an old connection and got a free ticket to the Marlins game, and got to tag along with them as they worked. The real bonus was the better food and suites, but you didn’t expect to see a certain blond driver throwing the first pitch.

He wasn’t expecting to see you either. Ignoring the marketing intern, he jogs over to where you and your friend are talking.

“Logan! Hi,” You smile, quickly turning to introduce him to your friend, but Logan is one step ahead of you.

“You are here early,” he smiles back at you.

“My account is sponsoring a VIP trip to Miami contest for Williams, so I’m making sure everything is ready to go,” you explain and he nods.

“Have you seen your family?”

“Yeah, they flew down the other day, I got them grandstand tickets,”

“What are their names? I can get them a paddock pass for FP1 and FP2,” Logan says and the marketing intern looks antsy beside him.

“Here’s my number, text me,” you hand him your business card and apologetically smile at the intern.

For some reason, it didn’t take a second thought to accept Logan’s invite. You had the day off tomorrow, your parents were busy, and there was really no reason not to. Your bag was packed and you were in Logan’s pickup truck before you knew it. The radio is on the top 100 station, and the windows rolled down slightly on the highway, the ocean air washing over you both.

“What do you miss most about America while in England?” Logan asks and you pause for a second.

“Peanut butter and jelly’s, they don’t taste the same. What about you?”

“That’s not what I miss most, but it’s a valid answer. I think I miss the Florida beaches, especially at dawn,” he says, letting a calm silence settle in.

“I would agree with that, but make it North Carolina,”

“Thanks for agreeing to come with me, the house feels so empty,” Logan looks at you. You nod, pushing some stray hairs out of your face.

“I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to be shown around by a local,” you grin, locking eyes briefly with him.

“I know this great place for dinner,” he says as he turns off the highway. You learned about him on the drive, including that he owns a beach house and doesn’t live with his parents.

You both walk into the small restaurant, his hand instinctually going to yours before he quickly stops before you notice. You don’t see the way his heart races when you smile at him. You don’t realize that he’s noticed you around the track and sponsorship events, and how he finally built up the courage to introduce himself. He is so excited to take you to a restaurant that specializes in southern comfort food.

“Logan, you didn’t,” you gasp as you look over the menu, your heart swelling.

“I thought you probably missed a taste of home,” he smiles sheepishly.

“You are the best,” you quickly decide on your childhood favorite. The both of you get to know each other more over the meal and flirt a bit while you’re at it.

“I forgot how good that restaurant is,” Logan says as you both walk out of the restaurant, his arm gently going around your shoulder. You blush, but make no attempt to move it. The ride to his house is short.

“Get changed, Logan, we are going for a beach walk,” you tell him after he shows you the guest room. No more than five minutes later, you are both barefoot on the beach, you in a Williams hoodie and shorts, Logan in an unbuttoned shirt and shorts.

You don’t really know when your hands first brushed and connected, but you didn’t attempt to stop it. Logan admired you against the moonlight and soft crashing waves.

“Lo?” you ask as he seems elsewhere.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks softly, turning towards you. All you do is nod, his soft lips brushing against yours as you pull him closer, properly kissing him.

“Wow,” you breathe, a blush covering both of your cheeks.

“I guess I’m not immune to your southern charm,” he teases, causing you to giggle.

“I guess not,” you agree. The walk back to the house is comfortable, and he kisses you goodnight outside your bedroom door. You wake up early for a run, quietly heading downstairs only to find a shirtless Logan doing the same thing.

“Morning run?” He asks with a smile.

“Yeah, you too?” You ask back and he nods. You both finish tying your sneakers and put on headphones. He leads your morning run, knowing the streets better than you. You both stop into a coffee shop a few blocks away for breakfast before heading home.

“I’m gonna shower then head out to the beach if you want to join me later,” Logan tells you before heading to his room. Once you finish your coffee, you do the same. There are two towels out on the beach in front of Logan’s house, Logan occupying one. After grabbing your book and applying sunscreen, you join him.

“Blue is a good color on you,” he compliments your light blue bikini.

“What are you reading?” You ask him as you lay down.

“The Great Gatsby,” he observes your book cover.

“Good choice,” you hum as you get immersed in the book. Fifteen minutes later, you see Logan set his book down out of the corner of your eye. He rolls over and you quickly bookmark your book.

“Do you know how hard it is to read while next the a beautiful woman?” Logan asks and your lips quirk up into a smile.

“How hard?” you ask, smiling as he pulls you closer to him, happily kissing you.

“Logan, look at this,” you show him your phone, as you lean over the kitchen island. He sets down his water bottle and takes a closer look.

“I’m surprised they even care about me,” he says, brushing it off. There is a public beach a few houses down, so it isn’t uncommon for someone to stray off it.

“I didn’t think about what would happen within Williams,” you sit on one of the stools. Logan moves to sit beside you, grabbing your hand.

“It’s fine, we can fill out the necessary paperwork. There isn’t a conflict of interest, we are in the same department, it will be okay,” he reassures you. You peck his lips and sigh.

“I’m sorry someone saw us, that makes it harder for you,” you frown. His hand moves up to your cheek, rubbing soft circles with his thumb.

“I’m not. I’m happy to be seen with you,” he smiles before going to start lunch.

“I’m glad I met you,” you tell him, happy to be with someone who isn’t afraid to be in public.

“Me too. Would it be too early to call you my girlfriend?” Logan asks, finishing the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches you both have been craving.

“Normally yes, but with you, I would be more than happy to be your girlfriend,” you squeeze his hand. Logan kisses you briefly before starting to eat.

A few hours you make your way back to Miami, Logan having a team meeting that evening. The two of you didn’t see each other much the rest of the week until free practice.

You lead your parents into the Paddock area, taking them to Williams hospitality. You had told them about Logan and they were very excited to potentially meet the driver.

“Hi Babe,” Logan hugs you when he enters hospitality, stopping to say hi before grabbing coffee.

“Hi Lo, ready to meet the parents?” You ask nervously, he kisses your forehead. The rest of the weekend flies by, he charms your parents, you meet his parents, and before you know it you are in England again.

By the time Austin rolls around, you both are inseparable. The team finds it cute how Logan will follow you around like a puppy dog when you are at the GPs and he is free.

“I’m so glad I saw you at the Marlins game,” Logan whispers, his arms wrapped around you.

“I love you,” you whisper back, tilting your head to kiss you.

“I love you too,”

#logan sargeant #logan sargent x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 imagines

[astonmartinii]

doggy day care | lewis hamilton instagram au

pairing: lewis hamilton x reader 

when roscoe gets a little too old for the f1 travel lifestyle, his stay at the local doggy day care grants lewis much more than he expected. 

lewishamilton  

liked by roscoelovescoco, georgerussell63 and 761,091 others 

tagged: roscoelovescoco 

lewishamilton after many, many years of hard work and companionship in the paddock roscoe will be retiring to his lavish dog bed in monaco. sorry @mercedesamgf1 you'll need to find a new head strategist. 

view all 38,231 comments 

georgerussell63 mega career from roscoe his presence will be missed in the paddock. 

mercedesamgf1 miss him already 

valtteribottas can't wait to see the big man in monaco 

sirlewy why am i crying about a man not being able to take his dog across the world 

teamlh44 surely he'll still be able to go to monaco or maybe silverstone 

chilliandcharles the way we all know that roscoe is gonna go to the most luxurious doggy day care in the world 

monacosbestboys 

liked by roscoelovescoco, carmenmundt and 2,071 others 

monacosbestboys the newest playmate here at monaco’s best boys is the lovely roscoe, he’ll be here when his dad is off racing around the world. he’s one of the friendliest pooches you’ll meet and a dog of many talents 

view all 21 comments 

user274 omg so cute 

sirlewisgoat wait this is the doggy day care roscoe is at? they’re so cute 

roscoelovescoco i loves it already 

lewishamilton 

liked by monacosbestboys, mercedesamgf1 and 871,075 others 

tagged: mercedesamgf1 

lewishamilton mega effort from the whole team this weekend, thankful for the efforts of the whole team that help me get to that top step. the winning feeling never changes, but it was weird doing it without my best pal. 

view all 41,081 comments 

georgerussell63 always an honour to share the podium with you 

roscoelovescoco great job dad 

nocontexthamilton this man’s attachment to his dog needs to be studied 

f1mina roscoe is his child for real 

monacosbestboys added to their story 

yourusername 

liked by ybestfriendsname and 1,032 others 

tagged: monacosbestboys 

view all four comments 

yourusername perks of the job 

ybestfriendsname  forever jealous of your life 

yourusername could be yours as well 

hamiltoncentral is that roscoe? 

f1updates 

liked by lewishoney, pierregasly and 3,091 others 

tagged: lewishamilton 

f1updates lewis hamilton spotted out and about with a mystery woman in monaco - could the seven time champion finally be off the market? 

view all 501 comments 

user77 is she even famous? 

mercstan44 i swear that’s the girl who runs the doggy day care that roscoe goes to 

flowersforlewis she seems super nice so i’m happy for him 

f1girly can we not like respect privacy for once? 

lewishamilton added to their story 

yourusername added to their story 

monacosbestboys 

liked by lewishamilton, roscoelovescoco and 7,091 others 

monacosbestboys surprise admin face reveal 

view all 241 comments 

user777 roscoe traded the paddock for the office

lewishamilton he’s such a talented boy 

yourusername what a handsome fellow 

mercedesamgf1 so that’s where our admin went 

lewishamilton 

liked by yourusername, roscoelovescoco and 1,042,089 others 

tagged: yourusername 

lewishamilton who would’ve thought my attachment issues with roscoe would land me with the love of my life 

view all 41,091 comments 

yourusername i’m forever happy you decided to share you and roscoe’s lives with me, i love you baby 

lewishamilton no one else i’d let my dog love more than me

planethamilton he sounds so happy this is such an unexpected win 

softlewis god i love them already

georgerussell63 double date soon? 

yourusername i’m down 

yourusername 

liked by lewishamilton, mercedesamgf1 and 42,098 others 

tagged: lewishamilton 

yourusername my two favourite boys. you’ve changed my life this year and i can’t wait for many more years with both of you 

view all 2,981 comments 

mercedesamgf1 welcome to the family y/n, hope to see you in the paddock soon 

thew11 i love their relationship already 

lovelylewis i can feel the parasocial relationship coming 

lewishamilton i love you in ways words cannot describe 

yourusername my little poet 

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 instagram au #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton instagram au #f1 x reader #f1 x you

[daydreamgoddess14]

Red Card

MASTERLIST

Roy Kent x F!Reader

It's the first time in 135 years that the Premier League has allowed a female referee to official a match... Remaining neutral is absolutely key. Plenty of fluff and smut and flirting 😏

The anticipation was at a whole different level. For the first time in history, a woman would referee a Premier League football game. The FA had played a blinder from a marketing perspective - a local girl from Richmond itself - refereeing a Richmond vs. Man City match - the top two finishing teams of the previous season. Sky Sports, BT Sport, Match of the Day, ESPN… every single football broadcaster or news outlet was on site. It couldn’t get any more high profile. It had been all anyone had talked about for weeks on end. Roy was sick of hearing about it, talking about it, and reading about it.

“New Trent?”

“What do you think about a woma-”

“Reffing the next match? It’s about fucking time. Should have been done years ago. The league might be saying all the right things and making a big deal out of it, but it’s only disguising the fact that they haven’t bothered utilising female referees until now.”

“And what do you think of the referee chosen for the match?”

“Did I offer you a fucking follow up, New Trent? She’s a fantastic ref, and has a great eye. I’ve seen her run some lower league matches and it’s high time she had a role in the Prem.” He looked around for his next victim, “You with the… bald spot?”

“And will you be saying the same thing if she books one of the lads next week or a decision doesn’t go your way?”

“Course I fucking will. I don’t suddenly change my opinion of any of the other refs? We’ve all got jobs to do and roles to play. I don’t think we can ask for anything more than for any of the referees to be fair and equal. I don’t give a shit who we’re on about, that applies to all of them.” He looks around for any other burning questions, “Right, fuck off then you lot. I’m done for the day.” He rose from the desk and left the bustle of the press conference. In the office, Beard and Nate were looking over plans for the next week while the team milled around the gym and treatment rooms.

“Tough presser?” Beard asked.

“No more than fucking usual. All anyone is talking about is the new-”

“Female ref? The news is everywhere. As if the match wasn’t high profile enough as it is.” Nate filled in, a bundle of nervous energy.

“Yeah, well we’ll be fine. Just gotta make sure the boys keep their heads down. The new ref isn’t their problem, they don’t need to even be thinking about that.”

“But they will, because that’s all they’re hearing about. We haven’t had this much press coverage for ages, the match sold out months ago. They may not have to think about her, but the whole situation does impact their whole build up to the game.” Beard declared.

“Right, get ‘em in here.” Roy grimaced. Nate dashed off to assemble the team. “Alright lads?” There were a few murmurs and replies. “I know there’s a lot of noise around this one - some of it is to do with us and the City game, some of it is none of our business. I suggest you steer clear of the news for a few fucking days. There’s no need to watch it at all. No Twatter or whatever you fucking use. Just stay off that shit for the rest of the week, yeah? Any news you need, you hear from us. I want to keep the positivity we’ve got for the new ref, so if you’re asked about it by the paps on the car park, be fucking nice. Otherwise, you don’t watch or listen to all of the fucking fuss about the weekend, alright?”

“Coach.” Isaac nodded in agreement, the other players followed his lead.

~~~~~~~

The noise was deafening, the stadium packed to the rafters. You hovered at the side of the pitch with the other officials, warming up until it was time for the meet and greet of the team managers. The two managers were like fucking titans of football royalty. You were about to meet Pep Guardiola for god sake. And if you even think for one second about meeting Roy Kent, you might just pee your pants. Pep is great, wonderful - the boss! But you grew up not twenty minutes down the road, so Roy is firstly, the literal definition of local hero, and secondly, the big crush of your early 20s. You spent many Euro Championships and World Cups in the pub singing his chant and ogling his legs. Fortunately when the Premier League and media ask about your neutrality, they don’t ask whether you’ve experienced sexual fantasies about any of the players or managers. At least you’d only be admitting that about one person and not, like, a whole team. And you would never admit it publicly. The home crowd roars as the Richmond team is announced, you make your way to the space between the two dugouts ready to greet the players. They all shake your hand as they pass you, with a few nods of encouragement and words of support. The same applies to the Man City team, you’re determined not to be starstruck in front of Pep Guardiola so you shake his hand with a big smile and wish his team luck. You turn to Roy Kent and his large hang engulfs yours. You whack on your big smile and offer the same affirmation as you did to Pep. On the pitch, you speak momentarily with the two captains and blow your whistle for go time. 

The trouble with Premier League football is just that, it's Premier League. Top flight. The best of the best. Keeping pace with these players was a job in itself, being in the action without impacting it or getting in the way was another, and being the all seeing, all knowing one was… yet another. Your mind (and body) are pulled from goalpost to goalpost, and it's really no surprise that the referee is often blamed for poor decisions. It's impossible to see every single thing that happens on the pitch. You're making good decisions so far, nothing out of the ordinary. Shortly before halftime, one of the Richmond defenders nearly dislocates his shoulder, going in hard on Haaland. It feels cruel to punish him, but it's part of the job, so you have to award Man City the free kick. From the other side of the pitch, you can hear Roy Kent over the sound of 60,000 people screaming the same thing. Haaland scores, of course. You hang back while the teams leave the pitch at halftime, but he's waiting for you in the tunnel. 

"The fuck did you give a free kick for?!"

"You shouldn't be collaring me out here, but to answer your question, the tackle was too much."

"Bullshit, it was a fair tackle and McAdoo would have hurt himself more than Haaland."

"Bullshit. Haaland has got about 5 inches and half a stone on McAdoo."

"5 inches is fucking nothing." He smirks.

"Really?” You arch an eyebrow at him, “did you seriously choose today to make a dick joke?" Utter disbelief is written all over your face, you shake your head and leave him cursing himself in the tunnel. Halftime was supposed to be a moment to catch your breath, not waste it on fighting with Roy Kent. You knew better than to get into it with managers. They saw the action from the sidelines and only had so much impact and influence. They took their lack of control out on officials all the time, it was supposed to be your job to stay calm and walk away, not engage. You ignore him on your way back to the pitch, he's just inside the exit of the tunnel and he could be there to apologise but he could very much be there to shout at you some more. The second half is just as eventful, Richmond are pushing hard for at least an equaliser, and Man City are loath to let them get it. When Obisanya has a shot on goal, which goes wide, City are pleading for a goal kick, but it's not. You award the corner, and Rojas sweeps a beautiful pass into Tartt, who sends the ball straight into the corner of the net. City scores again shortly afterwards, and you have to keep your head to make sure no one is deliberately trying to cause injury to anyone else. When Tartt goes down just outside the area, you request VAR footage to aid your decision before calling for a free kick. He scores, but it's an immediate offside and Roy Kent looks like he might explode. When play resumes, Colin Hughes gets a goal straight away. The game ends in a 2-2 draw, but the fans and teams both seem appeased. 

~~~~~

By the time the press conferences are over, Roy's had more than enough. He (respectfully) disagreed with your first free kick decision, but praised your other choices and overall declared you "No better or worse than the other pricks." The stadium is starting to clear, and the Man City bus has just left. Richmond players make plans to get food at Ola’s. When Roy sees two of the officials only just leaving, he sends the others ahead and makes his way down to the away team and visitors facilities.

“I hope you’re here to apologise.” She states dryly as he approaches.

“Yeah,” he looks bashful, “the dick joke was a dick move. Sorry.” She looks so serious, he’s not sure the apology is accepted until he spies a tiny smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

“Was pretty funny. In alternative circumstances.”

“Noted. Congratulations anyway, noise from the press has all been good so far.”

“Nice to know my performance will be scrutinised forever while every mediocre male referee gets a pass for another week.”

“I’m sure your performance will only improve.” He inwardly groaned. She was going to laugh in his face. A dick joke and then godawful flirting? It was only what he deserved.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. I’ll pass that direct quote on to The Sun.” 

“They’ll have a fucking field day. Richmond manager does shit job at flirting with the only female ref in the league? They’ll probably go and interview the poor woman I called my girlfriend when we were in year 6.”

“Flirting?” 

“No,” he scoffed, “no, course not. I didn’t mean that. Just a joke.” You cocked your head at him,

“Should we start again? Hi, you must be Roy Kent, I’m the first female referee in a Premier League game in 31 years. Well, actually it’s more like 135 years but the FA are trying to make themselves look marginally better.”

“Nice to meet you. Great job on the match, I respectfully, completely, disagree with that fucking free kick in the first half but other than that… no complaints.” He steps closer, you’re showered and changed but he can still smell the fresh grass mingling with the citrus and spice of the products you use. The combination is incredible - like summer and sunshine.

“I wouldn’t give a shit if you did have any complaints. Looking after your feelings isn’t in my job description.” You take in his height, broad shoulders and dark eyes and the long dormant crush rises to the surface immediately. You hadn’t taken much notice since you stopped having posters on your walls all those years ago, you’d only caught a few of his appearances as a pundit. He’s gorgeous, despite his surly appearance there’s an unmistakable twinkle of mischief in his eyes. Like he’s having fun with whatever this tension is that bubbles between you. And when he does smile at your commitment to fairness, it takes your breath away.

“Good to know the FA can rely on you staying neutral then.” He says quietly. Anticipation crackles in the air and fizzes in your stomach. You match his playfulness in your response, and step into his personal space,

“I don’t think there’s anything here that could sway me to any team in particular.” You smile, “not yet, anyway.” He waits until you’ve definitely left the room before he lets go of the breath he’s been holding. 

~~~~~

You’re dragged out by your friends to celebrate that night, even though your legs ache like you’ve done a 10km run. It wasn’t so much the running, you specifically trained for that, it’s the constant change in direction and the intensity of having your attention focused on so many things at once. If the FA thought they could throw you under a bus by giving you such a high profile game, you’re pleased you proved them wrong. The bar is crowded and noisy and you’ve already spotted a couple of the Richmond players - it was bound to happen in a relatively small town if they couldn’t be bothered to go right into the city. You’re at the bar ordering when you feel a hand on your hip and someone standing very closely behind you, a hand raises above you holding a credit card, and gestures to the barman. You’re about to lose your shit when you hear his voice rumble behind you,

“I’ve got these, mate.” He steps to your side when the person next to you moves, but his hand lingers, “I hope buying you a drink doesn’t make you question your bias?”

“Not at all, I’m afraid you’d have to work much harder than that.” He looks even better than he did a few hours ago, desire coils inside you and you instinctively draw your thighs together. It doesn’t help when he noticeably looks at your mouth, red lipstick is your ‘go to’ for a night out.

“I’ll bear that in mind.” Your drink is put on the bar next to you and you lick your lips before taking a sip. Neither of you has broken eye contact. You hear your name from a few feet away at the edge of the dance floor.

“Excuse me,” you raise your glass to him, “thank you for the drink.” 

“Bruv, is that the ref from today?” Isaac steps up beside him.

“Yeah, yeah that’s her.”

“She’s fit. You gonna ask her out?”

“Dunno Isaac, bit fucking old for that shit now.”

“Nah man, I just seen the way she looked at you-” he shakes Roy’s shoulder, “ooooh! Get it boy!” Roy rolls his eyes and smirks, watching you get dragged to the dance floor. He knows he must be old because he’s only been standing pitchside for the match and wouldn’t be caught dancing. You’ve run your legs off and then still managed to get them into that sequined mini skirt and up dancing. You can feel his eyes on you but you’d rather keep your back to him and try and carry on as casually as you can, if you turn around you know you won’t be able to stop staring. At least with your back to him, you can ignore him. Plus you know your arse looks great in this skirt, it was literally the sole reason for buying it in the first place. With all the running and training you do, you’re conscious of your strong thighs and hips but sometimes, just sometimes, they make you feel powerful. Eventually, you have to duck out of the dancing - mimicking a timeout to your friends. Roy is exactly where you left him at the bar and the alcohol makes you bold. You squeeze back in next to him and take a sip of his drink, yours is long finished. 

“Help yourself.” He smirks, his hand moving to your hip again, hidden by the darkness of the bar. You put a hand on his thigh and lean in slightly, taking some of the pressure off your feet. You’re close enough that he can see your breath hitch as his thumb finds a patch of exposed skin at the waistband of your skirt. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” You ask quickly, pushing your nerves down. He nods and finishes most of his drink, offering the last of it to you. Outside, word has gotten out that half a football team is at the bar and everyone is out for a glimpse of Jamie Tartt. You push past the photographers with Roy’s hand at the small of your back and into a nearby taxi.

~~~~~

“Please tell me there aren’t any fucking rules about this,” Roy mumbles somewhere in the valley between your breasts.

“I have no fucking clue, and I don’t really care right now.” You gasp, breathless as he leaves a mark on your soft skin.

“No? No danger of a red card?” You laugh and it’s musical and magical and neither of you have had this much fun in ages.

“No red cards for Roy Kent. Probably makes a fucking change.”

“Oi, cheeky. I never got that many.” He’s moved down again, unzipped your skirt and thrown it behind him somewhere.

“Fucking liar. They literally use you as an example of trouble players. Oh, fuck-” he bites your thigh.

“A good example or bad example?” His tongue sweeps over your clit and you nearly rocket off the bed until he hooks his arms over your thighs and pulls you back down to him.

“Oh god, bad example,” You feel him hum against you as he works you to your peak,

“Shame, I’m a changed man.” 

“Uhuh, ok,” you whisper, unable to think or speak any more coherently.

“How's your neutrality holding up?” Your hands tangle in his hair,

“Fuckkk, sooo good.”

“I’ll have to fucking try harder then,” he chuckles. You’re about to beg for mercy when he pushes two fingers into you and curls them to just the right angle that has you seeing stars. When he comes back up to kiss you, you rock your hips against his and he helps roll you both over, sitting up so he can still kiss you. His kisses are rough and needy, making you grind down against him. When you nip his neck, he pulls gently at your loose hair, whimpering and god, you’d do anything, anything to have him make that sound again. It only makes you rock harder against him, desperate to feel him inside you. When he finally pushes into you, your body clenches. You rise and fall onto him over and over, grateful for those powerful thighs he can’t keep his hands off. When he brings a hand between you both and circles your clit, you drop your head into the crook of his neck and bite down to stifle your moan. You feel his hips stutter under you as you both come, making you drop your own rhythm. You collapse in a tangle of limbs and sheets against him. 

“If you ask me again if you’ve swayed me yet, I’ll bite you.”

“You’ve already fucking done that,” he laughs. “Still need to try harder?” 

“Hmm, there’s no harm in trying again. You might win me over.”

“And over and over?” He kisses you again, so slowly it’s intoxicating. 

When you wake in the morning, it’s to the sound of his phone ringing. He tears himself away from where he’s curled behind you, the length of his legs against yours, his chest against your back and his arms around you.

“Yeah,” his voice is low and rough with sleep and it’s enough to have you roll over and press your body back into his. You can’t hear the other person, but he hangs up quickly and opens a link they’ve sent. It’s a picture on Twitter of the two of you leaving the bar together with his hand on your lower back with the headline “RED CARD FOR KENT?”

“Told you you were fucking trouble.” You laugh.

FIN

#roy kent #roy kent fluff #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent x reader #roy kent x you #roy kent smut #roy kent imagine

[dg-outlaw]

Why No Love for Red Hood: The Hill?

I think it's all in the marketing and about what's being delivered versus what readers expected.

So I almost made this post on a reblog, but I didn't want to overwhelm that thread. Plus, I'm not sure if people get mad when someone does a long reblog on their short OG post? Anyway, the point of that post was that Issue 3 of 'Red Hood: The Hill' came out and no one's really talking about it, especially Jason/Red Hood fans.

I think the biggest problem (IMO) with this series is that someone wanted to write a story about The Hill and some new characters (which is fine), but like the 'Batman: The Hill' comic (which I think this series is sort of a sequel to), it's banking off a known character, Red Hood, to be it's selling point. "Come for the Red Hood, but stay for these other characters and their story." All fine and good, but a little deceptive when the marketing leans more toward it being a Red Hood (and new 'Outlaw' friends) story rather than one where Jason is a random guest star.

Series description:

In Gotham City’s early days, The Hill was one of Gotham City’s most dangerous neighborhoods, one that required the residents to band together to keep themselves safe when the police – and sometimes even Batman – wouldn’t. Now, as the Hill finds itself gentrifying, old habits die hard as the vigilante known only as Strike works with her team to keep the town safe—but she’s not alone. Jason Todd, one of the Hill’s newest residents, is more than happy to don the visage of Red Hood to help Strike keep his new home safe. But a new villain is emerging from the shadows. Will Red Hood, Strike and the Hill’s small militia of vigilantes be able to keep their home safe?

And this brings me back to the marketing and advertising of this series, especially versus the Batman: The Hill comic.

Obviously we can see the artistic parallels between these two covers (above). Overall, good job and nice throwback, but... there's a major difference. These two are not similar.

The first cover has "THE HILL" in bold, prominent text and Batman is in the background. This says that Batman is part of the story, but he seems secondary to whatever's going on in the foreground, which is mostly true to the story.

The second cover has "RED HOOD" prominent in the title with "The Hill" as secondary and smaller. Jason is also front and center with Batman looming behind him (who only just showed up at the end of issue 3. There's only two more issues left). The character of Strike, our new protagonist and The Hill's main hero, is down at the bottom and barely in-frame, further suggesting it's more about Jason (and maybe Batman) than The Hill or other characters. Again, clever marketing and nice design nod to the original cover, but deceptive when it comes to the series content. I don't necessarily blame the cover artist here as they might've been given a different brief on what the story was about and I get the fun throwback to the old Hill cover, but these covers are almost reversed in terms of Bat-character prominence.

In the original, Batman was more intertwined in that comic's story than Jason is in his series, which further adds to the audience letdown. If anything, this series needed to go with the coffee shop musician strategy: play a bunch of cover songs to win over the crowd and then slip in your original music (OCs) here and there. Once you have your audience hooked, go all out with your original stuff and then throw in 'Wonderwall' just for kicks and to keep them invested.

Ultimately, I think the biggest problem of this series is pacing and balance. The series needs more Jason to allow readers time to invest in the new characters, but as those new characters develop through their interactions with him THEN Jason can fade back as a partner character or just random character who comes in to help out. As it is, he's a guest star in series called, 'RED HOOD: the hill' with most of Jason's actions being 'day-in-the-life' stuff or a random action panel or two.

If anything, I think Red Hood #51 and #52 did a better job of establishing Jason as a main player, but also working alongside a new hero (Strike) and citizens of The Hill in solving a case. The covers above also display a more balanced composition and preview of what you're getting. Yes, you're reading a Red Hood comic, but there will be some other significant characters playing in this sandbox that you should care about and watch out for.

Sadly, I think the untrue message DC will take away from this series if it doesn't do well is that: (1) Jason is NOT an instant seller so let's shelf him because he couldn't carry this series (that he's barely in), and (2) readers don't like these new characters (most of which are BIPOC and/or LGBTQ), so let's ditch them and do more Batman stuff. 🤦‍♂️

And that's unfortunate because I think there's potential here had this series been executed in a better way. I see where the writer wanted to go with these new characters and they actually seem like an interesting and cozy bunch, but I feel like I'm stepping into an already established found family/friend group, but I don't really know them and I'm the outsider. So eventually I'll find a random distracted moment to quietly say bye to my friend Jason and slip out before anyone notices... like the socially awkward introvert that I am.

#jason todd #red hood #dc comics #batman #red hood the hill #dg outlaw rants #I want to like this series and I'll probably finish it just to see what happens #but I think there's a lot going on and it needed more time and room to breathe so readers could invest in these new characters #Yet if someone is loving it so far and Strike and the others inspire new fics-art-or-cosplay I'm all for it

[youkissedareaderinthedark]

Part of It

Synopsis: Y/n has been the social media manager for the Argentina National Team for a few months now. She’s unofficially everyone’s favorite employee

young fem argentine reader x platonic argentina national football team

A/N: this fic will be regarding the entire team, but it will mainly feature: Alvarez, Fernandez, Molina, Garnacho, Messi, and De Paul, because those are the players I know the best.

more a/n: also please don’t be surprised if some of the info in this fic is false and the players are ooc, im not based in argentina so I could easily get a lot of these things wrong

. so

. for as long as you can remember, the only thing you’ve loved more than playing football is being behind a camera

. as a kid whenever you weren’t on the pitch itself, you were recording your teammates and friends, creating their own personal highlight reels

. and like every other kid in Argentina, you spent your entire childhood playing football

. but it wasn’t until you were a teenager when you started to discover your love for camera work

. it started when a teammate of yours asked you to record something for social media, initially as a joke

. but then the video got a couple hundred views, and you quickly began to love the feeling of creating something people can visually enjoy

. your teenage years were filled with football and videography

. then by the time your senior year came around, you knew you wanted to by apart of both scenes however you could in the future

. leading to your commitment to Cordoba National University with a major in communication and media studies

. you graduate in 2021, and spend a few weeks looking for jobs

. then you find Cordoba fc and their opening for a new social marketing manager

. you get hired within two weeks of applying as a social media manager

. because the Cordoba community is pretty small, you can spend a lot of time getting to know the players and the fans really well

. you learn a lot there, as it’s your first work experience for a professional football club

. you work there till the end of sepetmber/mid october, because through a few of your co-workers, you learn that Central Cordoba has an opening for social media manager

. which of course, you applied to and by the end of November, you’re part of the Central Cordoba staff

. it was a lot of fun; hanging out with players, befriending other staff, traveling with the team, and obviously, managing their social media

. you prove to be extremely efficient there, bringing in thousands of new fans

. which builds your reputation as an employee a lot

. and suddenly, you’re getting offers for different clubs around argentina

. only 1 stands out to you though

. Argentina’s national team offer

. because apparently, due to the world cup occurring at the end of the year, the communications directors wanted more publicity before the competition

. you obviously reply back, and a few weeks later you’re invited to their headquarters for an interview

. at first, you didn’t think you got the job because it took a while to hear back from the directors

. but then you wake up to yet another email waiting for you

. and you are officially argentina’s social media manager

. your first day is technically in april

. but you don’t meet any of the players until the end of that month

. you didn’t even know you were gonna meet the players that day so you were severely unprepared

. one moment you were making coffee with your co workers

. then lionel messi walks in beside rodrigo de paul

. they caught you by surprise

. both of them were really nice though

. you eventually learn that they all are

. your job mainly consists of filming the team together and managing the their social media accounts

. this is how you get to know each of the players

. you click with julian the most at first because of the age similarity

. he becomes your best friend within your first week

. any meetings that the both of you are included in are spent sitting on opposite sides of the room because you were told your friendship is “a disturbance to the work environment”

. you guys make it up by being attached to the hip before and after practices though

. a third of your camera roll is funny candid’s of julian

. you guys are bus seat partners and make fun out of annoying the other guys

. enzo is another close friend of yours

. you guys are always gossiping about something

. “did you hear about the new intern?”

. “apparently, somebody was found with somebody else in the break room after the meeting last week”

. “I swear he wasn’t even sick that one time, he was just at a party the night before”

. he tries to convince you to dye your hair like him

. and when you refuse, he lets you make up for it by helping him tone in

. you guys are always laughing together, no matter what the situation is

. you and molina have such a playful relationship

. you’re always making fun of him for no real reason

. he’s just trying to defend himself

. you do it for all of them, but his birthday photo dump is always the worst

. you two are always wandering around headquarters, looking for either someone to bother or something to entertain yourselves

. it always ends it great content though

. you have a soft spot for alejandro

. mostly because he has a crush on you and tries to play it off

. but you’ve known since the first few times of hanging out with him

. when you’re filming concent for the argentina pages, you’ll see alejandro trying to show off at least three times a video

. you find it hilarious

. the other guys tease him relentlessly for it

. you two are still good friends regardless

. he tries to be protective of you even though he’s literally four years younger than you

. again, you find it hilarious

. and he always gets shit from the other players

. leo is such a dad to you it’s funny

. he was so nice the first time you met him, and after that he unofficially adopted you as a daughter

. even though he’s only like 13 years older than you

. shows his care in small ways

. making sure you never get hit with a ball when you’re sitting in to a practice

. coming into your office when you’re both in headquarters to check on you

. making sure you’re safe when you’re traveling with the team

. whether it be just assigning another player to look after you or a whole ass bodyguard

. also protecting you from rodrigo

. because rodri is like an older brother to you

. super playful

. always teasing you

. agreesive type of love

. y’know those videos of rodri always picking up julian and stuff?

. like that but a smidge gentler

. this is where messi comes in

. insisting he put you down and let you do your job

. rodri also tries to convince you to get tattoos

. honestly that’s a whole team thing

. playful peer pressure is real there

. anyway

. you, julian, and enzo are such a trio

. getting up to the most random shit in other countries after games

. you guys were two seconds away from jumping into a canal in italy

. but then here comes leo

. scolding you guys like his children

. and sending you back to the hotel

. also, you have a jersey from almost every player on the team because before you got your own jersey, you always just picked someone random to wear on game days

. but then rodri started frowning when he saw you in julian’s jersey because apparently, you hadn’t worn his shirt in a few games

. and now you have a separate drawer just for jerseys

. oh and the world cup

. that was so fun for you

. traveling with the team to qatar

. hanging out in stadiums during practice, half upset because it felt like a million degrees

. but half in awe because holy shit you’re in qatar for the world cup

. you’re on the edge of your seat for every game

. the final almost killed you

. you were almost crying on the bench next to the other staff

. totally worth it though

. you started sobbing when montiel made the last penalty kick

. because you knew these guys, you knew how much they wanted it, how much they deserved it

. it was a mess of hugs and tears after that

. julian is grinning into your shoulder

. rodri tackled you

. enzo is basically jumping up and down

. you don’t think you’ll ever see alejandro that happy again

. you and molina are crying together

. and messi gives you the biggest hug

. it’s so fun celebrating with the team

. spraying champange with gonzalo

. singing along to music with paulo

. dancing around with lauatoro

. and coming back to argentina after that

. seeing all the fans in buenos aires, looking around and seeing argentine pride everywhere

. surreal

. there’s definitely no feeling like it

. which is why you’re so sad when it’s time to go back to your clubs

. you came to an agreement with central cordoba to go back and work for them during the argentine league

. then coming back to the national team when it called

. so you can’t wait for next season

#reader insert #football imagine #football team x reader #platonic football team x reader #argentina national football team #argentina national team #argentina nt x reader #female reader #argentina nt fic #lionel messi #julian alvarez #enzo fernandez #alejandro garnacho #nahuel molina #rodrigo de paul #all platonic

[adventuringblind]

Stay the Night, Stay Forever

Daniel Ricciardo x Reader, platonic Max Verstappen x reader

Genre: angst

Summary: Reader is stuck in a toxic relationship and Daniel wants to get her out.

Warnings: talk of abuse and injuries, talk of SA, Protective Daniel, Max being sassy

Notes: Once again I’m writing sad things. Also, in the mood to write for my Aussie boys Daniel and Oscar, feel free to send requests :)

Masterlist

Toxic relationships can mess up even the strongest of people. They mess with your head and your heart. It makes you feel as though you'll never understand love, let alone find it.

She has been in many bad relationships. She seems to just attract these people like a magnet. They circle around her, and she can't get out of the ring.

In her defense: they have all started out nice. It's after she gets comfortable that things go sideways. It's a terrible cycle. Maybe it’s her age, something about immaturity keeping her stuck here. Maybe it’s something to do with trauma that she can’t get past.

Regardless, she’s here again.

Working with the Redbull media team has always been a fun job for her. That is, when she’s not trying to drag Max by his teeth to do the marketing videos he hates so much.

Max who saw her boyfriend often since he’s a mechanic. Max who tells her constantly that he’s a “shit mechanic and a even more shit boyfriend.”

This year is a little different when it comes to Max and media because Daniel is back and doing stupid videos with Daniel is much more entertaining. It’s much harder to actually get things done with the three drivers now. Wrangling them is like herding cats some days.

“Have you ever really talked to Daniel?” Asks Max in an early Thursday morning on the way to interviews.

“Not really. In passing sure, but we’ve never sat down and had a full conversation.” She shrugs. The little voice in her head says this conversation Isn’t going to end well for her. The girl already gets enough lectures for spending time with Max, who is taken, and is forced to talk to her because it’s part of the job.

“You should, I think you’d like him.”

“Why’s that?”

Max leaves over and whispers in her ear. “Because unlike the scum bag you’re dating now, he would leave the kind of marks that feel good.”

Sometimes, she hates Max and his blunt personality. Mainly because he’s wearing a cheeky smile and she’s sat there fuming and blushing at the same time.

~

It’s after that conversation, that she notices Daniel more. The way he looks at her. The way he talks to her. The way he makes it a point to compliment her.

Then it escalates. He brings her water in exhausting long hot days. He’ll bring her food when she hasn’t eaten all day. The Aussie will randomly kiss her cheek for no reason and grab her hand to lead her if he wants to show her something.

The flirting starts in May. Daniel starts pushing the boundaries and testing the waters. The sexual tension is ridiculous and she has to remind herself that she has a boyfriend. Granted, not a good one.

The way Daniel flirts makes her want to pull her hair out. Because she wants so badly to take him up on his hinted offers. She hasn’t had real sex in over a year. She’s dissociated during it so that she can simply keep her boyfriend happy. It’s like she’s a means to an end for him. A way to satisfy himself and keep his needs met until he finds someone he truly loves.

Daniel seems so genuine. She’s aware she’s said that about all her previous relationships, but the difference is that Max trusts Daniel as well and she trusts Max (to an extent).

She spilled her guts one day after Max had helped her hide another bruise and Daniel had caught them in the act. Max, having had to do similar and Daniel being his person, knew how to help in these situations. So when Daniel opened the door to the driver room, everyone froze. The Australian simply looked like someone kicked a puppy in front of him and asked if he could do anything to help.

Max admitted he was late for a meeting with Christian and Helmut Marko and asked if she would be comfortable if Daniel finished up. She said yes despite every nerve in her body trying to get her to run away.

Daniel worked in silence. Then when he was finished, he got on his knees in front of her. Hands move to her cheeks and thumbs wipe away her tears. “I don’t want to push you into anything, but I genuinely have fallen for you. But, if I’m the reason he’s hitting you, say the words and I’ll leave you along or I’ll go fight him. Whatever you need from me, you have it.”

She told him everything. All the dirty secrets from the last almost two years had spilled from her mouth. The entire time he simply listened and offered some comforting words.

Three days later, she works up the nerve to go to the club with some of the Redbull team. The season had been amazing so far and she wanted a chance to revel in it at least once.

Was Mr. Idontwantyoutohavefriends happy about it? Absolutely not. He screamed at her the entire time she was getting ready and before she left.

But at least she's here now. Nursing her second drink next to Daniel at the bar. She hadn't had such a laugh in so long. The two of them are watching the other drivers present slowly descend into further chaotic dancing messes.

They end up dancing together at some point. It grants her the contact she'd been craving. His hands on her bare skin in such a way makes her breath hitch.

Then his lips are on hers. It's hungry, and she needs it. It's the most she's wanted something in so long.

"Wanna get out of here?"

"As long as it's with you?" She smiles.

~

By the time the night is over, it's the early hours of the morning. The room smells like sweat and sex. Her body is littered with marks that Daniel put there. They are marks she wants. She doesn't look at them with disgust, but with adoration.

Daniel had taken such good care of her. Helped her clean up. Then he said since they'd been drinking, they would probably need to eat, but he has no food in the room. So he'd run out to grab them something to eat.

That's when she looked at her phone. Her notification wall lined with missed calls. That is when she sees his texts.

The realization hitting her that she cheated sits on her chest. She has to leave.

The flurry of grabbing her things and writing Daniel a scrawled note only takes minutes. Her body runs straight to her room on a lower floor. Luckily, all the Redbull team got the same hotel. Unluckily, that meant it was a shorter trip to her doom.

When she opens the door, Mr. Iwanttocontrolyourlife is waiting for her. She drops her things like she's done nothing wrong and starts getting ready for bed.

"Where were you?" His voice is a deadly calm. His body leans against the wall with his arms over his chest.

"At the club."

"With who?"

"The other media team staff, Max and Kelly - that's it really." She lies. She goes into the bathroom and changes into a covering hoodie and sweats in record time.

He's tight outside the door again when she opens it. "Care to explain this then." He shoves his phone in her face, and her mind becomes static. Pictures of her with Daniel as plain as day meet her eyes.

Then pictures of them leaving. Pictures of them going into his room... "We're you stalking me?"

“I’m not toxic like you are.” He scoffs. “A friend sent these to me and said he wanted me to know.”

She wants to cry. Break down and pretend this isn’t happening. Daniel had said he would help her get out. He said he would keep her safe. But now, she’s not sure shes going to make it out the door with her life.

~

Daniel was already nervous when he saw her note. He knew it couldn’t be good if she’d gone back. Even worse since he’d promised to help her find a way out that didn’t end in violence. Though he would love to punch him in the face for what he’s done to her.

He doesn’t want to make things worse though, so he heads up to Max’s room to stop himself from doing anything stupid.

Max lets him sleep on the couch. They do go back and forth on a few ideas, but Max having been in an abusive situation agrees that it could get so much worse if they go to check on her.

Neither of them hear anything come morning. And for a week they can’t even contact her. It’s like she fell off the face of the planet.

Daniel feels like he might explode when Thursday comes around again. Double headers are tiring sure, but he has far to much energy to not spend it searching the paddock for any sign of her. Until Max breaks the news that she supposedly is really sick and will not be here the whole weekend.

He’s not sure what comes over him, be it anger or fear, but he finds himself storming up to Christian and demanding to know where she is. Max doing his absolute best to talk him down from committing a murder.

He manages to figure out where she is on the condition he stays put for the weekend. Meaning he’s in for the longest four days of his life.

He spends most of it pacing and trying to call her. Lando even mentions he looks sick at one point and forces water and food down his throat. How can he eat knowing he put her in this situation? Max keeps telling him it’s not his fault, but Daniel should have just gotten her out of there sooner. Screw no violence. He’d knock him out cold if that’s whaat it came too.

Finally the weekend is over and Daniel is dragging Max with him to her home. Max refuses to let him drive. And Daniel doesn’t mind considering Max is a fast driver and isn’t running on enough adrenaline that he could run a marathon and not be tired.

He’s out of the car before Max even has time to stop it. He’s banging at the door so loud he’d probably be waking the neighbors in the early hours of the morning.

When is swings open, He almost collapses in relief that she is still alive. However, she looks startled, surprised, and broken. She was never sick, he’d just hit her enough to break her. Her throat looks swollen with fingerprints tattooed to it. Her wrist is in a brace and a murky white bandage plastered to her cheek. And those are just the things that are visible.

He doesn’t have much time to think as the man he’d been wanting to punch into next year sidles up behind her. “What are you doing here Daniel? Did nobody tell you that we’re sick right now?” She cliches away from him when his arms wrap around her waist.

Max comes running a few seconds later. “Just came to check up on you two since we hadn’t heard anything and see if we could help.” The neutral smile Max puts on is for show. He’s deliberately trying to ease the tension.

“Well, we’re fine. Thank you for stopping by.” He goes to try and close the door, but Daniel is quick to deny him.

“Can I ask what happened y/n? What’s with the brace?” Daniel tries not to seethe but it definitely comes out anyway.

“She’s clumsy. Got dizzy and slipped.”

Daniel is shocked when it’s not himself who throws the first punch. Max’s fist collides with the other mans cheek. It sends him reeling backwards enough for Daniel to pry the shaking female away and into the safety of his arms.

“You came for me.”

“Told you I’d make sure he never touched you again. And I always keep my promises.”

Mr. Myexcusesforabusearebadandshouldfindanewhobby goes for a hit on Max, but he misses and falls face first onto the ground right outside the door. “As someone who’s had the ‘it’s just clumsiness’ excuse used for him before, I know what’s going on.” Max pulls an envelope out of his back pocket and drops it in front of the other guys face. “On behalf of all of Redbull, you are fired. hope you get what you deserve.” Max plants a foot on top of his back to keep him on the ground. “Is there anything you need before we leave?”

She had already packed. The stuff she needed had been tucked away for over a year. Thoughts of just running layer heavily on her mind, but she could never bring herself to do it.

“My place is yours if you want to stay there. I have an extra room you can have.” Daniel hadn’t let go of her hand the entire way to the airport. Or on the plane. Or on the car ride to his place.

“That sounds lovely.”

After she got settled, Daniel asked in she needed help with any cuts or bruises. Apparently she’d had the same bandages for a week. He’d probably need to get her into a doctor to see if anything is infected.

“Daniel… thank you.”

“For what? Sticking Max on a prick? No need to that me for that, love.”

“For everything then. Like showing me that I deserve to be loved right.”

“And I’ll see to it that you never doubt that again.”

#x reader #fanficion #formula one #f1 fic #formula 1 #racing #f1 fanfic #max verstappen #angst #redbull racing #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x female reader #Daniel ricciardo x y/n #red bull racing #Redbull #redbull daniel #red bull f1 #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo angst #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel riccardo imagine #Danny ricc f1 #dr3 x reader #dr3 #dr3 imagine #max verstappen is a protector

[patito-oward]

No I in Team

masterlist

WC: 11.7k

Summary: You’ve just started a new job as a social media manager at Arrow McLaren, and get off onto the wrong foot with your insanely attractive new coworker.

Tags: angst, fluff, smut, 18+

February

This is what you’ve been working for since you were 13. Your first trip to the Indianapolis Motor Speedway was love at first sight. Since then, you’ve revolved your life around racing and getting to every race possible.

You studied marketing and public relations in high school and have now gotten your dream job working as the social media manager at Arrow McLaren.

You’re starting your first day by joining a full team meeting at the team’s headquarters. Except walking around the large building, you can’t seem to find the intended conference room. You’re looking down at your phone, trying to decipher the directions in your email, when you collide with a solid body.

Before you even look up, an apology is spilling out of your mouth. "Oh my god, I am so sorry-" You cut yourself off when you realize who you’ve just bumped into.

"Just watch where you’re going."

"I’m so, so sorry, it’s just my first day and I have no idea where I’m going, the email I got said conference room on the second floor, but this place is huge and I’m all turned around." You only stop to breathe, realizing you’ve run into not only an indycar legend but a now-coworker, Pato O’ward, and have completely embarrassed yourself.

"I’m headed there; follow me." He was very straight to the point, but you nodded and thanked him.

When you walked into the conference room, you found a few faces of people you recognized from interviews and more you recognized from watching the sport. The meeting began, and plans for the new season were being discussed. You were introduced to the group, but mainly to Pato, Alex, and Felix as the new head of the team’s social media.

Everyone was very welcoming, making jokes with you and telling you not to believe Rossi when he acts annoyed whenever you make him do anything. Overall, you had a really great morning.

After the full team meeting, you were set to have a meeting with just the drivers, owners, and a PR team. You had a 30-minute break between the meetings where you overheard a conversation between Pato and Felix.

"Y/N seems cool." Felix's saying your name caught your attention. "It’ll be nice to have someone young running the social media make sure it stays relevant."

"I guess, yeah." Pato seemed unsure and dismissive.

"You’re not sure?"

"She already seems like a walking disaster. This morning she was staring at her phone and ran straight into me, and then she told me she couldn’t find the conference room, and it was right there. And she talks so much." He puts emphasis on the so much, and you take a little offense; you were just trying to be nice. Felix doubles over laughing. "What is so funny?"

"Oh, nothing, mate," He can barely get his words out because he’s laughing so hard. "you just described yourself, that’s all."

"Oh, come on! I am not that bad!"

You’re glad Felix is defending you and seems to like you, but still, you wish Pato felt the same. It’ll make this job really awkward if he’s never cooperative with what you need to do.

Your second meeting of the day goes okay. The team wants you to share a little of what you have planned for the socials and discuss how these things are usually done. Everyone on the team seems really receptive to your ideas, and you’ve seemed to charm the room. You’re joking with the team owners about making the drivers do trends, and Felix and Alex are laughing along with you. Pato doesn’t talk much unless spoken to, and you just wish this day had started out better.

After your meeting, you were free to leave for the day. As you’re walking towards the elevator, Felix calls out to you. When you turn to face him, he begins to speak. "I’m sorry about Pato; I don’t know what’s up with him, but he’s definitely acting off today. Just give him time and he’ll warm up to you; you’re doing a great job already." You smile at him and thank him genuinely.

You really hope he’s right and Pato’s just having an off day. You start working with the team immediately, so whatever has him upset, he’s hopefully over by the morning.

March

Unfortunately, that is not the case; a whole month has gone by, and Pato still hasn’t warmed up to you. He’s in no way rude; he’ll do whatever you ask him to, and he’s always polite, but he’s never been personable with you.

You watch him during interviews and photo shoots, and he makes everyone in the room laugh. He’s kind to everyone, introduces himself to everyone in the room, and immediately becomes the center of it. You can see that he’s an entertainer at heart, and you wish he’d be like that with you. Even in more personal and private settings, he’s still very outgoing.

He’s so loud talking to Fro and Alex that you can often hear him through walls. He has a great relationship with his pit crew; he is so personable with them whenever he’s around them and will ask them about their wives and kids. If you’re ever in a room alone, it’s always very silent, and he answers you in the shortest way possible. Mostly, he’ll make up an excuse to leave the room or call someone in.

All of this keeps making you wonder where you’re going wrong. Rossi and Felix both seem to really like you; you’ve started getting along really well with both of their partners, and occasionally they will invite you to drinks after a day at work. They even tried to talk you into watching the Firestone GP with them in Rossi’s motorhome despite your having to work.

You’ve become friends with most of the team, and you’ve become really great friends with an engineer on the team, she’s been teaching you a lot about the makeup of the car during your downtimes. This job was so perfect, you just wish you knew why a certain driver seemed to have it out for you.

The Firestone GP that kicks off the season was a small letdown for the team. Rosenqvist had the best finishing position in 8th place, Rossi in 10th, and Pato in 13th. The team has been working so hard and really thought that they’d start the season off much better than this.

April

The team has been working a month straight at improving speed for Texas, and they’ve found some. During Friday practice, Rossi and Rosenqvist showed a lot of speed and were 3rd and 5th, but O’ward was still 9th, leaving the team to wonder where they were going wrong with him.

While walking by his garage, you notice a few engineers, including your new friend, and Pato watching his in-car footage from practice. As you watch, you notice what’s going on. You watch for another lap to make sure. "You’re going into the turns too fast, breaking heavy late, and by the time you’ve regained control of the car, you’ve ended up losing time." It feels like every eye in the speedway turns to you in that moment, like you could hear a pin drop in the garage.

Before anyone says anything, they simply rewind the tape and watch a lap. You watch everyone watch the screen as he goes into a turn, starts losing the car, then breaks heavy while getting it back under control. It happens three more times, and a mechanic speaks. "Holy shit, she’s right."

Pato takes the car back out, and in the few laps he’s able to do, his speed has skyrocketed. The speed he has now would have him at P1.

When he gets back into his pit, he’s celebrating with the team all around, and then he approaches you. "Thank you so much! You’ve saved my ass for this race."

"It’s no problem, really.”

Pato qualified for P3 the next day and finished the race 2nd. It's been a way better weekend for the team, and everyone is buzzing with energy.

After the race, Alex and Fro ask you to join them for celebratory drinks at a bar near the speedway. You join them and their partners, as well as Pato, and you all have a great time. You even got some content for Instagram and TikTok.

Everyone’s feeling pretty good and has a decent amount of liquor in their systems when Pato approaches you. "I owe you an apology."

You really were confused by this. "What?"

"Over the way I’ve been acting, I don’t even know why; I think I was just having a bad day and then got too stubborn to admit that I was wrong."

"Oh, it’s okay, water under the bridge." You try to wave it off, as this conversation feels very awkward.

No, I’ve been a total jerk for no real reason, and you haven’t deserved it, so I really am sorry. Can I please just have another chance at introducing myself?"

"You never introduced yourself in the first place."

He looks sheepish. "Another thing I’m sorry for." Holding out his right hand, he says, "Hi, I’m Pato. I’m glad you’re joining the team. I’m sure you’ll make a great addition."

"Hi, Pato, I’m YN; it’s so nice to finally meet you." When you shake his hand, you can see him soften a bit and his demeanor change, and you really hope that everything from the last two months really is water under the bridge in the morning.

You had a week and a half break after that, where you were only required to make a few posts and had one meeting. When you returned to work at Long Beach, Pato brought you coffee. You were shocked, but glad that fences really were mended.

April also held the first practice for the 500, which showed great promise for the team.

May

You and Pato have turned into fast friends. It turns out the two of you really are a lot alike. As you’ve entered the most important month for the sport, you cannot be more glad that things have been smoothed over.

Now that you’re close with all three of the boys, you’re often drugged into content whenever you’re filming it. The boys will often start arguing and look to you to settle it, or when you make them do a challenge, you have to clarify the winner.

Pato will even ask you to follow certain trends he’s seen floating around, and whenever you reveal that in a caption, his fans go crazy.

You don’t just begin to get closer professionally, though; when Pato finds out you’re a fan of the Marvel movies, he gets very excited to have someone on the team to watch them with. During the first week of May, he invited you to come watch Iron Man with him after a day of work, and you accepted.

When you first walked into his motorhome, it was definitely a little awkward; you didn’t really know where to sit or what to do with yourself. He quickly eased the tension, though. "Sit on the seat with the blue blanket; I dug it out in case you’d want it. I always keep it cold in here because I like to snuggle under a blankie."

You laughed at him. "Blankie? Are you five?"

"No! I’m just a sensitive guy who likes to be warm."

"Thank you for getting a blankie out for me too."

"Do you want anything to drink? I have water, electrolit, topo chico.."

"You realize we’re in private; you don’t have to endorse your sponsors to me."

He gives you a dirty look from the fridge and says, "You are so funny. I’ll have you know that I just don’t keep the fridge very stocked, and my sponsors provided all this."

"I’ll take a topo chico, please." You give him a sickly sweet smile from your place curled up on the loveseat, and he brings one for you and one for himself. You place both in the cup holders between you. "Thank you, sir."

"Don’t call me that, it's weird. I’m going to order food, did you eat or should I order you something too?"

"You don’t have to order me something; I’ll order myself food."

"Don’t be silly; I invited you; I’ll pay for takeout." He opens Grub Hub and starts scrolling through options. "You know what the worst part about frequent travel is?" You hum out a response. "I never know what food is good. I have no clue where to order from."

Oh, I know. My family and I used to always get food from this Chinese place on race weekend. Here it is." You pulled up the place on your phone, and you had to call to place the delivery order.

Once the order was placed, you both settled into your spots on the sofa and started the movie. Before long, the food has arrived, and you’re both digging in as the movie plays. "This is the best Chinese I’ve ever had. You definitely saved the day!"

"I don’t know about the whole day; maybe just dinner. Besides, I definitely didn’t save your wallet." You looked at all the takeout boxes on the counter. "I think we ordered enough for a small army."

"Yeah, but it’s so good." He punctuates his sentence with a groan and an eye roll that make your stomach flutter for just a moment; you’re not blind after all.

You’ve always found Pato attractive, even before you started working here, but now that you have the job, you know it's important to keep those feelings at bay. Not only that, but he made it easy to do so when he was constantly icing you out. Reminding yourself of those facts, you redirect your attention to the TV in front of you.

That was the first of many movie nights with Pato. You were at the paddock basically every day, and he claimed he got lonely being alone in his trailer every night, so he kept inviting you back.

For a tik tok, you had Pato and Felix make a list of red flags about each other, in which they both mentioned each other's taste in movies. Of course, the two started to argue about it, and Pato turned to you. "YN thinks my taste in movies is great; we always do movie nights together."

"Mate, I can’t believe you’ve been exposing her to that." He pauses, then says, "Wait, how often do you do movie nights? And why am I never invited?"

"Because your taste in movies sucks."

They move onto the next topic, and you cut that part out of the video, really not wanting too many people to see it, but it does get you wondering why he never invites Felix over instead of or even with you.

Two nights later, at your next movie night, you bring it up. "Patito?"

He groans. "What?"

"Why don’t you ever invite Felix over for movie night?" He looks at you quizzically. "I mean, he’s like your best friend, right? So why don’t you ever have him over instead of me?"

"Felix likes to be doing something. He wants to play a game or go out, which is great and all, but after work sometimes I just like to relax and watch a movie but don’t necessarily want to be alone."

"So you picked me because I’m boring."

He laughs. "Not boring, just easy." You squeal at him and smack him in the chest, but he grabs your arm and pulls you onto him from across the sofa. "Come on, you know I’m just playing."

You’re facing him, and your upper body is in his lap as you look up at him. All of a sudden, you feel way too close to him, and like you’re crossing into dangerous territory. You sit up and pull back into your seat. "Yeah, I know. Let’s start the movie."

"You’re right, I don’t want to be up too late with quals tomorrow."

"It’s May; you always have something tomorrow."

Qualifying for the Indy GP goes really well, and Pato gets pole. The team getting pole was a huge accomplishment, so a bunch of people went out for drinks at a bar 10 minutes from the speedway. You’re out for a few hours, and around 11, everyone decides to disperse, and you begin to call for an Uber to your place, which is 30 minutes away. While standing outside and both of you ordering ubers, you complain to Pato about how late it’ll be when you finally get home.

"Just come stay at mine; you have to be back in Speedway at 6 anyway."

"Are you sure it’s not a problem? I can just Uber back."

"Stop being silly. You’re my friend, you’re never a problem."

You both climb into an Uber and ride the 10 minutes back to the speedway. You have the Uber drop you off at the entrance and walk to the driver lot from there. It’s a gorgeous night, and no one’s out right now.

Pato turns to you, "Let’s go walk the track." You laugh at him, not thinking he was serious. "No, come on, it’ll be fun."

"You’re crazy; we’ll get in trouble."

"Oh, come on, live a little, baby."

The name rolls off his lips, and you’re convinced you may do anything he asks. You’re being pulled by him towards the gasoline alley and pit lane, where you could climb onto the track.

He begins shouting when you get on the track. Calling out just to hear his echo. You pull him to you and put your hand over his mouth. Hush, you’re going to get us caught." You’re laughing as you say it because he’s fighting against your hand.

When you take your hand off his mouth, he looks around the track. "In 3 weeks, every one of these seats will be filled."

"I know, it’s crazy to think about."

"It’s like 300,000 eyes on you, watching every move you make; it’s nerve-wracking but also so thrilling."

He’s still looking out at the bleachers; you’re standing on the bricks in front of the padoga. "We could kiss the bricks?"

He looks down at his feet, dragging his shoe across the bricks. "Nah, I want to save it until I win."

Well, I don’t think you’ll have to wait long."

It’s silent for a moment, and you wonder if you’ve said the wrong thing. "We should probably head back. I have a GP to win before I can win the 500."

You burst out laughing at him. "You’re so cocky."

"Confident." He corrects you with a raised eyebrow. He grabs your wrist, then interlocks your hands. "Let’s go."

On the walk back, you’re leaning into his side with your head on his shoulder and never letting go of his hand. When you arrive back at the motorhome, you’re exhausted. You head into the bathroom to wash your face, and Pato calls out to you, "There’s a spare toothbrush under the sink; I’ll get out some clothes for you."

When you exit the bathroom, there’s a pair of Pato’s merch pajamas sitting on his bed for you. "We can either share the bed or I can pull out the couch, but Elba says the couch is uncomfortable, so it’s up to you."

The thought of being that close to him all night makes your heart skip a beat. "Are you sure you’re okay sharing the bed?"

"We’re adults." He shrugs like it’s obvious. "As long as you’re not a blanket hog, we’ll be just fine."

After you change into pajamas, you get into the side of the bed that doesn’t have his things on the nightstand. As you climb under the layers of blankets, warmth and his smell engulf you. It’s different from how he smells day to day; it’s like what he usually smells like minus the sweat and gasoline. It makes you feel incredibly close to and surrounded by him. Sleep quickly begins to overtake you; you’re vaguely aware of him climbing into bed next to you, but you're fast asleep within 5 minutes.

The next morning, you woke up with a minor headache, and as you woke, you noticed that you were clinging to the man next to you. You’re half lying on top of him and have your arm across his chest and your face on his pec. Despite how comfortable you were, you knew it would be bad if he woke up and found you hanging all over him. You reluctantly and carefully pulled away from him and climbed out of bed. When you climbed out of bed, he rolled over and started searching for something in the bed. Rocky jumped up into the spot you’d just vacated and cuddled up with Pato, which seemed to settle him back into sleep. You quietly got ready for your day at work, stealing an Electrolit to hopefully ward off your headache.

As you searched the fridge for something edible, Pato emerged from the bedroom. His shorts hung low on his hips, and he’s shirtless; even with his bedhead, he looks absolutely delicious. "Goodmorning, sunshine."

He groans and stretches. "Morning, did you sleep good?"

"Yeah, I was exhausted, and that bed is stupidly comfortable.

"We still have an hour until we have to be at work; do you want to get breakfast?"

"I love the way you think."

"Give me five to get ready, and we’ll head out."

You end up taking his McLaren to a small diner. There’s a mural of IMS on one of the walls of the diner and a checkered flag in the window. "I still can’t believe this whole town celebrates like this for a whole month." Pato is looking out the window at the stores, all with flags adorning them.

"This is how I grew up. My dad and I looked forward all year for this month. I could never sleep the night before the 500; I was always too hyped up, like a kid on Christmas. I love this sport."

You quickly finish eating, then head to the track. Today’s the day of the Indianapolis Grand Prix, where Pato will be starting on pole, and you both have work to do before the race starts.

You don’t see him much after you get back to the track; you’re both being pulled in twenty different directions, but you’re able to get a photo of him climbing into the car for the Instagram story and wish him luck then.

The race starts well; he’s able to get through the first lap scrape-free, which cannot be said for all of the field. Around lap 60, he gets hit from behind and spins out; by the time the AMR team gets him going again, he’s in 21st place. The team is ecstatic with the finish of the race, with Rossi winning it, but for Pato, the race went awful. He had really high hopes for the race but ended up in P17.

The team has obligatory celebrations, and you have to capture some content of Rossi for the social media accounts. After all the celebrations are done, you go on a search to find Pato. You find him in his pit box reviewing race footage.

You lightly place your hand on his shoulder, "Hey,"

"Oh, hi."

"Tough race."

He lets out a dry laugh. "Yeah, no kidding."

"Are you ok?"

"Just frustrated."

"We’ve been invited to drink to celebrate Rossi’s win; wanna go?"

"No, I’ll just bring the mood down. You should go, though."

"There are plenty of chances to go drinking with them; do you want to just do a movie night? We can watch a sad movie, so you can’t bring the mood down."

He laughs, which was your intended reaction. "Yeah, you always cheer me up."

You go up on your tippy toes and wrap him in a hug, "You ran a great race today." As you pull away, Kevin Lee is hanging nearby to get a word with Pato. "I’ll see you tonight."

You have lots of work to do, and it’s a job in itself just to be able to grab Alex and take up his time. It’s hours later when you’re finally done for the day and able to escape to Pato’s trailer. He’s already in there and changed into sweats; when he opens the door for you, he looks mopey.

You’ve run to Walmart and bought fresh clothes—a pair of sweats and an oversized t-shirt—that you’ve now changed into.

You’ve been in his trailer so many times now that it’s anything but awkward. You look around at the place; the TV is still off, but there’s an almost empty glass and a bottle of tequila on the counter. Rocky and Norbi are calm in a way they wouldn’t be if he hadn’t taken them out, so at least you know that’s been done. You don’t really know how to comfort him; today was a big loss, and going into the 500, you know it hurts.

"You came to watch a movie, right?”

"I came because you’re my friend, and I know you’re upset. So whatever you want to do,"

He slumps down on the couch in front of you. "I’m so disappointed. I failed myself and the team. I had this race in the bag to win, but I fucked it all up."

You sat down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "You did everything you could to make this a great race. You couldn’t help that you got hit. All you can do now is focus forward on the 500."

He leans back, "I know. You’re right." He pulls you back, and you’re now both reclining on the sofa with heads turned towards each other, only a few inches apart. "You’re my best friend, you know."

You smile at him. "Yeah, you’re mine too."

The two of you are pressed together from your shoulders to your knees. You grab the blanket that’s on the couch next to you and cover both of you with it. You turn on the TV to a show you’ve seen a million times and let the soft noise of it drift the two of you to sleep.

You wake up at 2:00 AM and can barely move from the position you’ve been sleeping in. You gently wake Pato and convince him to move to the bed. When you both climb under the covers, he grabs you and pulls you into him, placing a kiss on the side of your head. He’s clearly barely awake, but you can’t fall asleep.

Your body is buzzing with the feeling of his against yours and his breath on your neck. You feel like a horrible person because he got so vulnerable with you and is clearly just seeking comfort in you after a bad day, and you’re obsessing over it like a schoolgirl. Still, you can’t help the feeling that’s coursing through your body, like you’d be content to stay this way forever.

When you wake up, it’s like nothing has changed between the two of you. Pato feels better and is back to his normal and cheerful self, and your relationship stays what it always was, friends. It’s not that you ever expected anything to change, but for that night, you allowed yourself to hope it would.

A week of lots of work, three movie nights, and one sleepover goes by, and then it’s Saturday and time for qualifying. The team does incredible, all four cars make it into the fast 12. Sunday holds so much anticipation for the team. You’re slammed with making posts to celebrate yesterday’s results along with today’s. Not to mention, every time one of the drivers went out, you stopped everything to watch their run.

After the first run, Pato and Fro advance to the fast 6, and you watch to see who gets bumped. Knowing the drivers has brought a whole new side to this sport for you, you can’t even imagine what it’s like for the drivers who have failed to make it. The Firestone Fast 6 has Marcus Ericsson on pole, with Pato starting 3rd and Felix 5th. You know this is an incredible place to be for the race; to have a spot in the front row is a huge deal, but Ericsson on pole has everyone worried he’ll pull away with a second win.

You have a week that consists of two practices and studying every move Ericsson makes to find his weak spots and figure out how Pato can play off them. You’re posting on social media five times a day to lead up to the race. The Legends Day parade made for incredible content, and you’re left in awe at the people covering the streets just for a chance to be waved at by a driver.

Pato convinced you to spend the night with him after the parade; you couldn’t say no when he pulled out the puppy dog eyes and pouted at you to stay, especially when you never wanted to say no in the first place. It really was easier to stay in Speedway for the night, considering the traffic in the morning will be horrendous, and you sleep the best you ever have when you’re lying next to him.

The 500 lived up to everything it should. It was 200 laps of pure excitement. At no point in the race were you sure of who was going to win, and it left you unable to breathe for most of it. You had spent the day taking photos and videos so you could do an "Admin’s photo dump," and if you took some photos of Pato making ridiculous faces at you that you planned to just keep to yourself, no one had to know.

At lap 190, Ericsson is in the lead, with Colton Herta second and Pato third. You know that Pato will have to pull off a huge move to take the lead; he’s racing against two of the greatest in the field. As they go around turn 3, Herta goes on the outside of Ericsson, trying to make a pass for the lead, but he finds the marbles and wrecks both of them. Pato got by, but others behind him were not so lucky. The four car wreck gets red flagged immediately. The good news is, Pato’s restarting in 1st; the bad news is there are nine laps left, and Palou is right behind him. As the race starts up again, you can barely breathe. After a warmup lap, the race goes green, Palou takes a hard dive to the inside and passes Pato. He has the lead for three laps, and you’re already upset for Pato; you know how badly he wants this. As you’re thinking that, Pato passes him from the outside, and begins to run away with the lead. He leads the last five laps of the race and crosses the start-finish line as the winner of the 110th Indianapolis 500.

You’re so thrilled for him that you don’t know what to do with yourself. You can hear him on the team radio celebrating and thanking God in Spanish. He does his victory lap, and then brings the car back into pit lane. You’re at his car before it’s even stopped, taking his steering wheel from him, and when he gets out of the car, he wraps you in a hug. He’s holding you around the waist and lifting you up, spinning you. "You just won the fucking Indy 500. I’m so proud of you."

"I couldn’t have done it without you."

He’s all too quickly being pulled away from you and being congratulated by the rest of the team. You stand in awe as you watch one of the most important people in the world to you live out their dreams. You watch every part of the celebration with so much pride. You can’t think of anyone more deserving of the ring, the wreath, or dumping a bottle of milk on himself.

When he kisses the bricks, you’re right there next to him, kissing them too. "I guess it’s good we waited for the real deal to do this."

"This was definitely better than doing it just because we could." He has the biggest smile on his face, from ear to ear and reaching his eyes, and all you can think is how you’d give anything to always have him this happy.

It's been hours of celebrating him, and you’re soaking up every moment. When all of your business at the Speedway is over, you both head back to his motorhome to get ready to go out and celebrate. When you get there, he pulls down the fanciest-looking bottle of tequila you’ve ever seen.

"Take a shot with me?"

You scrunch your nose. "I hate doing shots."

"You can’t say no to me, I’m an Indy 500 winner.”

You sigh and give in. "That card works for today and today only." He has poured out two shot glasses, and handed one to you. "Here’s to you, being the best friend a girl could ask for, and the best damn driver this track has even seen." You clink your glass with his and take the shot, choking it down. "Holy shit, that needs a chase-"

You’re cut off by lips on yours. At first, you’re shocked and don’t react. Once you do, you have one hand on his cheek and the other around his neck, and you lean into the kiss like it’s oxygen. It’s easily the best kiss you’ve ever had, you’re thinking everything and nothing at once, and the pieces of the world feel as if they’ve fallen together. His hands around your waist pulling you to him, the way his mouth presses into yours, the taste of tequila on his lips, and the faint smell of sweat, it’s all too much and yet not enough.

You’re unsure how much time has passed when he pulls away, but you’re panting to catch your breath. "Yeah, that’ll work."

"I promise we’ll talk about this later, I just had to do that, and I really need to shower.”

You’re left a little stunned as he disappears into the bathroom. It has you wondering what this means for the two of you, what if it was just a caught-in-the moment thing and he didn’t really mean it?

He is ready to go within 20 minutes, you’ve changed into a pair of ripped jeans and a corset top, and he’s wearing white dress pants, with a white t-shirt and a gold chain around his neck. You’ve put on a light layer of makeup, and pulled your hair into a bun in an attempt to hide the fact that you’ve been in the sun all day. When he sees you, he says, "You look beautiful."

"Not too bad yourself."

Once you arrive at a bar in Indianapolis, Pato walks around and opens your door for you. He always opens the door for you because you have no clue how to open the doors to his McLaren on your own. When you step out, he places his hand on your lower back. "Is this ok?" You nod at him, and walk into the bar together.

The bar is already filled with people, Pato’s family, friends, other drivers, their partners, and parts of the team out to celebrate Pato’s win. Not everyone in the paddock is best friends, but they all get along, and Pato is so personable that he’s friends with almost everyone, so most drivers are happy for his win. Even Colton and Alex, who are surely having a rough night, came out to congratulate him.

You’re able to watch Pato all night, and he’s a different person than when it’s just the two of you. He’s an entertainer at heart, always putting on a show in front of a crowd, but when it’s just the two of you, it’s like he’s able to relax and just be his authentic self. You've been seated with Kelly and Emille for most of the night, not drinking because you told Pato you’d drive so he could party properly. Even while celebrating with everyone, he still checks in with you periodically throughout the night.

Kelly and Emille must notice the hand he places on your thigh or his lips brushing against your ear because they ask you if the two of you have "finally realized you’re soulmates". You shrug them off, figuring they’d just been drinking too much, but then they confess that one of the reasons they invited you to drink so much is because Felix and Rossi were convinced that you two would be perfect for each other. They quickly move onto a new topic, but you begin to wonder what dating Pato would be like. You figure it’d be a lot like your relationship now, but you’d get to have all of him, and not have to hide your feelings for him. The thought of getting to know him more intimately sends a chill down your spine.

As things start to wind down, Pato comes to where you’re sitting, and wraps his arm across your shoulders. The group has moved around your table, and he’s starting to say his goodbyes. Once you’re out to the car, he hands you his keys. "Please don’t wreck my baby."

"Oh come on, you’ve gotta have more faith in me than that."

"You’re the only person besides my papa I’ve ever let drive this car. That’s enough faith."

You turn on the radio, and the car ride back to Speedway is filled with Pato’s singing. When you arrive back in his motorhome, he’s begging you to spend the night again. You, of course, stay with him.

Climbing in bed, he reaches his hand out to the space in between the two of you. "Too much space. Come closer." You’re on your sides facing each other, and as you scoot in, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you towards him. "Much better."

You fall asleep like that, but when you wake up, he’s not in the bed. It has you panicking, wondering if it was a mistake to kiss him, and even more, imagining a relationship with him. You’re in one of his sweatshirts when you climb out of bed and head to the living area. You find it empty, of both Pato and the dogs. You’re pretty worried now, not knowing where he could’ve gone or why he disappeared so early.

Before your mind is able to wander too much further, the door to his motorhome opens, and the dogs come barging in. Pato has his hands full, but when he sets the stuff down on the counter and finally looks at you, he’s upset. "Oh no! You were supposed to still be in bed. Shoot!"

"Where did you go?" You’re very confused about his whereabouts and his aversion to you being awake.

"I went to get us breakfast, I wanted to surprise you when you woke up. I got all your favorites."

You can’t help the smile breaking out on your face. "You got me breakfast?"

"Of course I did. I know I said we’d talk about the kissing later, but I still feel bad for making you wait," a blush spreading across his cheeks. "I wanted to show you how much you mean to me."

You’re wrapping him in a hug before you know it. "I thought you freaked on me and bailed."

He pulls back from you and lightly takes your face in both hands. "I’m not bailing or freaking. I’ve wanted to do that for a long time, and I can’t stop thinking about you, haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I can feel myself falling for you more each day."

You can see the sincerity in his eyes as they bore into yours. "Pato,"

"Yeah?"

"Kiss me again."

A huge grin breaks out on his face as he pulls yours to him. The kiss starts softly, with one of his hands cradling the back of your head while the other stays rested on your face. As it goes on, you continue to push him, your tongue swiping across his lips, seeking entrance. His hand tangles in your hair, and the other moves down to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him. He has full control of the kiss, and you, at this point. Your hands are in his hair and on his chest, letting him lead you through minutes of a make out session like you’re in high school.

He pulls away, but you continue to chase his lips. He almost gives in, but he grabs your face and stops you from continuing. "Wait," He’s panting, and you’re pretty sure it’s the best sound you’ve ever heard. "I have something important I need to ask you."

You look at him expectantly and hope he can’t tell how fast your heart is beating. "Will you come to the victory banquet with me tonight? I want to celebrate with you."

You consider it, you know it’s a black tie event, and you know it’s broadcasted; you really don’t want anyone wondering or theorizing about who you are. "I don’t have anything to wear."

"I’ll buy you something."

"I do not need you to buy me clothes."

"Now you’re just being difficult. Come with me, por favor, and let me buy you a dress."

You caved to his begging, like always, and he took you to a high-end boutique to find a dress. As you looked through the store, he grabbed a few dresses to add to the ones you were trying on. He followed you to the dressing rooms, and you modeled each dress for him.

"Pato, I can’t believe you picked this out."

"What’s wrong with it?" His voice is whiny, and you can tell through the door that he’s offended.

You look at yourself one more time in the mirror before stepping out to show him. It’s a rouched pink satin dress that’s all too short, and shows an insane amount of cleavage. Pato leaned back on the seat, looking as smug as ever. "You’ve never looked better."

You give him a death stare, "This is so not appropriate, and so not funny." You’re getting stressed about all of this, it’s a lot to go to this event with him and be seen by all of your coworkers, but even more so by any fans.

He must notice how overwhelmed you’re getting because he reaches out and grabs your hand. "Woah, baby, what’s wrong?" You explain to him everything that’s on your mind. "Hey, it’ll be alright, I promise you. What do you need to feel better about this? I’ll give you anything."

"I just want to find something to wear."

"Ok, we’ll find something, I’ll take you to every store in the state if I have to. You’ve still got a few more in there, yeah?" You nod and disappear behind the curtain to try the last couple on.

Finally, you put on a dress that felt perfect. It’s a floor-length black gown with a slit on the left leg and a deep v-neck. "I really like this one, but tell me what you think, and be honest."

You walk out and stand in front of Pato, giving him a slow twirl. "Wow."

"Do you like it?"

"Wow." You slap his arm lightly. "Estás deliciosa." (You are delicious)

You wrap your arms around his shoulder and sit perched on his legs. "Y estás muy rico." (And you are very hot)

"I think this is the one, but I won’t be able to keep my hands off you all night."

You change back into your clothes, and head to buy that dress. Your jaw drops when you realize the dress is $450, but before you’re able to protest, Pato has already paid for it. "You did not have to do that, I could’ve found a different dress."

"I liked that one."

"I don’t even know how I ended up trying it on, I didn’t grab anything that expensive."

"I grabbed it, you deserve nice things." He kisses your cheek. "Now stop and let me spoil you."

You feel a heat rise on your cheeks, You’re not used to being treated like you deserve everything, but something tells you Pato’s not going to stop doing so.

You spend hours getting ready, but finally you’re at the victory banquet together. He pays for a ride there, so you could both drink and not worry about it. You walk the red carpet together, and he has his hand around your waist or on the small of your back the whole time.

Everything feels so natural with Pato, from the way he gets you a drink without having to ask what you’d like to his hand resting just above your knee. As a host drones on, you lean into him and whisper, "Pato?"

"Hmm?"

"Is this a date?"

He turns to you a little quizzically, and almost looks offended. "What? No."

You try to hide your disappointment. "Oh, ok, I just thought..."

"When I take you on a date, you will have no doubt it’s a date. There’ll be flowers and dinner, and I will pick you up, and if you’re lucky, I’ll kiss you at the end of the night."

June

And a few days later, he keeps his promise. He picks you up from your hotel with the largest bouquet you’ve ever seen. He then brings you to a restaurant in downtown Detroit, it’s easily the nicest place you’ve ever been. He pays for the meal, which was easily $500, and then drives you home. Things with Pato were easy, the date was the best you’d ever been on, and you both spent dinner laughing, and constantly brushing against each other in some way. When you got to your hotel door, he kissed you as promised. Everything with him is still so new, which makes you want him desperately. His hand wrapped in your hair, which pulls slightly as his tongue slips into your mouth, sends a chill down your spine. You lose track of time, and your thoughts are flooded with nothing but him. You pull away from him, but he immediately moves his lips to your neck.

You can feel your chest heaving, "We should stop." even though you really don’t want to.

"This is more fun." You can feel the vibrations of his words against your neck.

"If we don’t stop now, I don’t think I will." Despite how much you want that, you’re still hesitant about jumping into things too quickly with him.

He detaches himself from your neck, and when he pulls back, you can see that his pupils are blown, and his hair is mussed from your hands running through it. "Have I told you how insanely gorgeous you look tonight?"

"Only about 30 times." You stand there smiling at each other for a moment, stuck in your own bubble. "It’s getting late."

"I know. I should go."

"Yeah, you probably should." Except you can’t help yourself from kissing him one last time. This time it’s soft and sweet.

"Now I’ve really got to go before we get started again." He walks towards the elevator, but turns just before heading into it. "You’re driving me crazy, invading all of my thoughts, I can barely function!" You know he’s joking, but you also feel the same way.

"Goodnight, Patito!" You call after him, and he returns with "Sweet dreams."

You spent the next few weeks settling into each other. You haven’t told anyone about being together, and have been enjoying your time in secret. You’ve just decided that there’s no rush to tell anyone, and it’s a little fun sneaking around.

It’s three days before Road America when you and Pato are softly chatting while waiting for Fro and Alex to arrive so you can film some content. You mindlessly have your hands locked together, and he’s rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. You don’t notice the guys arrive, and they sneak up on you.

"Hey, guys, what’s up?" You jump when you hear Felix’s voice and pull your hand back.

Pato tries to play it off by greeting him back, but Felix just bursts into laughter. You and Pato both laugh along with him but are confused. "What’s so funny?"

"Are you seriously trying to hide that you’re together right now?" Felix can hardly get the words out.

You and Pato both share a look before trying to play it off. "What? We’re not together, we’re just friends."

Now Alex, who tends to just watch, joins in, "We’ve known since the 500."

You roll your eyes at him. "Ok, we haven’t even known since the 500."

"Tell that to lover boy because he didn’t take his eyes off of you all night, and we saw the way he was touching you."

Pato’s cheeks are now bright red, "Ok, I wasn’t that bad."

"Like a love sick puppy." Pato hides his face in his hands.

At this point, you’re just laughing, leave it to Rossi to be brutally honest. You pull his hands away, "Aww, baby, don’t be shy; I think it’s cute."

July

Mid-Ohio once again falls on the Fourth of July weekend. Pato did great in the race, working from 10th place qualifying to a 2nd place finish. The two of you booked a hotel room together for the weekend because you end up in the same hotel most of the time anyway.

After the race, Pato took you out to celebrate. You found a place that was putting on a fireworks show and was lined with food trucks. You both got the greasiest food imaginable, and bought an elephant ear. You found a place in the grass and got comfortable on a large blanket. You laid against him as you waited for the fireworks to start and ate your food.

You’re talking about everything and nothing when Pato grabs your hand and then kisses you softly. "What was that for?"

"I think I’m falling in love with you."

At first, you’re a little shocked to hear it, but you can’t say you don’t feel the same. Everything with Pato has been so fast, but it’s also been so incredibly easy and natural. "I think I’m falling in love with you, too."

You feel like a teenager, making out in front of all these people, but it’s dark enough that you hope no one can see you. It’s the most loved you’ve ever felt, you can tell he’s pouring everything he feels into the kiss. You’re lying down on the ground, cuddled together, as you watch the fireworks go off above you.

When you get back to the hotel room, you’re not tired in the slightest. You’re pulling him into you and kissing him as he tries to unlock the door. When he finally gets the door open, he pulls you inside the room, pins you against the back side of it, and automatically asks for entry into your mouth with his tongue.

It doesn’t take long until he’s backing you up onto the bed and you’re falling back on it.

He continues chasing your lips, only breaking away to pull off his shirt. He grabs the hem of your shirt, but before lifting off, he stops to make sure you really want to do this. When you nod your head, he pulls it over your head. Your chest is heaving as he reaches behind you to undo your bra.

You can feel him pressing up against you, and you reach down to grab him as he attaches his mouth to your breasts. It has him pressing into your hand and letting out a moan that has you shivering.

Before you know it, you’re lying together in the middle of the bed, and you’re begging him to slide into you. When he finally does, you see stars. He’s babbling in Spanish, you can’t pick it all up, but you understand that he’s telling you how beautiful you are and that he loves you. You’ve never felt so fully connected to or in love with a person.

Your foreheads are pressed together, and your lips are brushing every time he moves. His right hand is holding yours, and his left is tweaking your nipple.

"Eres la persona más sexy que he conocido." (You’re the sexiest person I’ve ever met.)

His Spanish has you shivering under him as he continuously pumps into you. You feel yourself growing closer as he begins to speed up, and you move your hand down to your clit to move yourself along. He slaps your hand away and replaces it with his own. "Quiero explorar cada centímetro de tu cuerpo." (I want to explore every inch of your body)

You can tell he’s close by his faltering rhythm, but so are you. As he moves his lips to your ear and tells you to let go, you go flying over the edge. You’re seeing white, and he follows quickly after; it’s the best orgasm you’ve ever had.

You’re both naked with a layer of sweat covering your bodies, and you’re curled into his side. You’re tracing random designs across his chest as you both try to catch your breath, and he is placing kisses on your forehead.

"I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy." You’re whispering into the dim room, hoping he knows how special he is to you.

"Me either. Estoy enloquecido por ti." (I am crazy for you)

Things with Pato keep getting better. He took you to Mexico with him during the break between Ohio and Toronto, and you met a lot of his family. You automatically got along with everyone, and loved how close knit everyone was. You only fell deeper for him around his family. He introduced you to everyone as his girlfriend, and told everyone how much he loved you. You’re having dinner at one of his Tio’s farms, and you watch him as he runs around with all of his younger cousins, and you decide that if he asked you tomorrow, you’d run off to Mexico and spend the rest of your life with him.

August

Nashville came, and the two of you spent the weekend partying like it was your 21st birthday. When you came to a bar with a mechanical bull in it, Pato was convinced he could ride it. You took a picture of him, cowboy hat on and arm in the air, and put it on your Instagram story with the caption "save a horse, ride a cowboy". This was the first time you’ve posted anything about him, but you figured it wouldn’t be a big deal because you have a small following made up mostly of friends and family.

The following morning, Pato posted a photo dump of the weekend, and included a picture of you kissing his helmet before he climbed into his car. You can’t tell that it’s you, from your hair or the angle Elba took the photo from, but that doesn’t stop people from noticing. Immediately, fans flood the comments with questions about your identity. Your papaya polo is the only thing that gives people any clue as to who you are. No one really ends up finding out it’s you, but a few people see your story and like it.

You’re back in Indianapolis the next week, and Pato is staying at your apartment. He insists that he meet your family, claiming it’s unfair that he hasn’t met them when you’ve met all of his. You took him to your childhood home for dinner. Your dad grilled steaks, and your mom made corn on the cob and baked potatoes. Your parents knew about you and Pato, and they’d known who he was since he started racing. You were nervous as you pulled into your driveway. Pato grew up with money, you know that most drivers do, and he grew up in a huge house in San Antonio. You don’t know exactly what he makes now, but you know that it’s a lot, most likely pushing $1 million a year. Your yearly salary is a weekend getaway for him. He’s never shown that he cared at all; he gladly stays with you in your apartment with creaky floors and poor water pressure, but you still worry about what he will think of the home.

Your worries dissipate as soon as you walk in the door, and he’s nothing but his perfect self. He shakes hands with your father and hugs your mother, you can tell that they love him already. You eat dinner together in your backyard, and he immediately starts talking racing with your dad. Your dog stares at him as he eats, begging for a bite, and you chuckle when he caves and tries to secretly feed him a bite.

You know that the season only has a month left in it, and the thought of living in two different states looms like a bit of a dark cloud, but moments like this make you know you’ll be okay.

September

The season is closing, and you’re busier than you’ve thought possible. The top 3 for the championship are Palou, Pato, and Felix, so you’ve been insanely busy promoting the last 2 weeks of the season, and planning posts for the result of the championship.

There’s a lot of tension on the team because of how close Pato and Felix are, and either of them could win the championship. There’s also the chance that neither of them would win it, which would stink after such a strong year for the team. You worry about Pato and his relationship with Felix, and you don’t want the fight for the championship to hurt that at all. You can also tell that the stress is getting to Pato, he’s at work constantly, and even when you’re home, he’s studying his previous races or working out ridiculous amounts. You try to be there for him, but it’s hard when there’s no way you can ensure he wins the next two races.

And Portland doesn’t go the way he wanted. He has a 3rd-place finish, which slots him down a spot in the race for the championship and makes it so he needs to have an absolutely perfect run for Monterey.

You’re exiting the bathroom in your hotel room when you notice he’s sitting on the bed, staring off into space. "Pato, are you ok, honey?"

He takes a minute before responding. "There are five days left of the season."

"I know that."

"I live in San Antonio; you live in Indianapolis."

"Oh." You’ve both been avoiding this subject for as long as possible, but you’re running out of time, and it needs to be addressed. You sit down gently on the bed next to him.

"I love you, you know that, but I don’t know if I can handle being away from you that often."

"I know, I’ve gotten so used to being with you that it’s hard to be apart." You know that some couples crave distance, and would not be able to handle working together as well as basically living together, but you always want to be within 30 feet of Pato.

"Maybe I’ll move up here, it’s where the team is based, so it makes sense. I just already don’t see my family enough, especially the ones in Mexico."

Pato does so much for you, and works so hard that you know what the answer is. "I’ll move to San Antonio." You’ll be with him, but you have to be in Indiana frequently anyway for work, so you’d still see your family a lot.

"That’s not fair to you, to pick up your whole life."

"It’s what I want to do. I don’t want to be anywhere that you aren’t, and I’ll see my family whenever we have to work."

He pulls you into a hug that’s a little bone crushing. "I love you, mas que vida." (more than life)

"Te amo también." (I love you too) Your eyes are a little watery, and having moments like this with Pato remind you how endlessly lucky you are.

Pato seems to be in overdrive, his car is lightning fast, and he comes out on top of both practices.

You’re sitting in the driver's room with Pato while he gets ready for qualifying, he’d arrived insanely early, so he had time to decompress before going out. You’re cuddled together on the couch, with his fire suit hanging off his hips, and you’re talking about something other than racing for what feels like the first time in months. Rossi enters and finds the two of you there, "You know this is for drivers only?" You know he’s just giving you a hard time.

"I had to be here, I’m doing very important business." You smile up at him as he begins to grab all of his racing gear.

"I can tell."

As Rossi gets ready, he joins in on your and Pato’s conversation, but not much because the two of you talk so much that it barely gives him a chance. Then Felix shows up, late as always. He grabs his helmet and then hands it to you.

"What am I going with this?"

Oh, you don’t need it? I thought you were a driver now."

"You are sooo funny." You grab a pillow off the couch and throw it at him.

You sit with Pato until you have to go to the pits to do work. During qualifying, he puts up an insane lap that puts him in P1 by over a second. Pato gets the pole for the race tomorrow.

You’re both buzzing when you walk into your hotel room, and he’s immediately all over you. You’re setting your stuff down by the door, and he’s crowding up behind you. His hands are on your hips, and he’s grinding into you as he attaches his lips to your neck. "You’re my good luck charm. I’m gonna take you to bed and show you how thankful I am."

Heat is riding up your neck, and you’re leaning back into his touch. He takes you to the bed and tosses you on top of it. He takes his shirt off, but then turns all his attention towards you. He was kissing a trail down your body as he undressed you. Worshipping every new piece of revealed skin. He had you in just underwear panting and begging for him to do something more. He’s teasing you over the lace of your panties, and you know it’s absolutely soaked.

He finally takes them off and slips one finger in. You’re so desperate that it has you crying out, and he quickly adds another. "Is this why they call you fast hands?" You can barely get the sentence out, but it has him laughing. His hands are good, but they’re nothing compared to his mouth. He’s still pumping into you with his fingers, but he brings his tongue to your clit. He circles it with his tongue a few times, but then sucks on it lightly, which has you crying out.

Your hands are in his hair, pulling so hard that you know it has to hurt, but it seems to only spur him on. He lays his tongue flat against you, and you buck against him as he repeatedly hits your spot. It has you tumbling toward the edge, but you pull him away before you’re able to.

He looks a little confused, but you quickly dissolve his fears. "Want to come with you in me." He immediately crawls up your body, and pulls down his sweats, which now have a wet spot on them, just enough to free his cock. He gives himself a few pumps before he's filling you. He doesn’t give you time to adjust as he starts pounding into you, his thumb pressing circles around your clit.

"Come on, pretty girl, come for me." His words send you over, and you’re coming with a loud moan. He follows you shortly after, biting into your shoulder to muffle the groan he lets out.

He collapses next to you as you catch your breath. Your chests are both heaving when he says, "Round two?"

It has you laughing out loud because, of course, he wants to go again. "I'm afraid I won’t be your good luck charm if you fall asleep behind the wheel because you were up fucking me all night."

"Doesn’t matter. It’ll be worth it."

You do end up sleeping, which is a good thing because you both have incredibly busy days. You've been incredibly nervous all day, buzzing with anticipation of whether Pato will become the champion. You don’t get a lot of time, but you do see him for a few minutes before he has to get in the car.

"Kiss for good luck?" You place an exaggerated kiss on his lips. "What about a quickie?"

"Patricio O’ward!" Your jaw is open, and you’re looking around to see if anyone heard him. "Get in your car."

He hugs you before he has to go, but you whisper to him as he does. "Be safe. And I’ll give you whatever you want if you win." When he pulls back, he’s smiling from ear to ear, and he jogs off to his car.

You were on the edge of your seat for all 95 laps. Each lap was more nerve wracking than the last, and you felt like you could only breathe when a yellow was thrown. To make matters worse, there wasn’t a dull moment in the race. There were six yellows and a red flag thrown in the race, and one of the yellows screwed Pato, letting most of the field pit on yellow when he’d just pitted on green. You felt crazy, with his radio in your ear, tracking his stats for every lap, and counting how long each pit stop took. The whole team was on edge, but you were even more so.

After what felt like 10 hours, the race ended with Pato in the lead. You realized immediately everything this meant for him. This is the year he became an Indy 500 winner and an IndyCar champion.

He pulls into pit lane, and there’s cameras all over as the team runs out to meet him. He’s standing on top of his car, screaming out and celebrating, but then he spots you. He points to you and runs over to you as he takes off his helmet. He’s kissing you before you can really process anything. You grab his face and look into his eyes to speak to him. "I can’t believe it, I’m so proud of you." Your cheeks hurt from how wide your smile is.

"Never could’ve done it without you."

Your kiss was put on national television, and fans quickly put together that you’re the girl from Nashville and the victory banquet, but you don’t care. You are so insanely in love with Pato, and you want the world to know it.

#pato o'ward x reader #pato o’ward fanfiction #pato o'ward #indy car

[fierceferrets]

The problem with all this AI shit, from a creative side, isn't even just the rampant theft; it's that we're making one of the biggest glaring problems even worse. It wants us to believe we have a work-rate problem, when we instead have a rate of consumption problem.

Social media has created this terrible vision and life for creatives, who already had to be like 10 different jobs, now also have to be their own marketing team while some how putting out new content every. single. day.

It is impossible to keep up with. And rather than changing narratives, emphasizing how REAL people are behind this stuff and need rest and time to make quality work. Instead of teaching patience, compassion, empathy, and love... these people are like "nah we should use robots to pick up the slack." And no matter what you do you will never get the same quality has a sentient living being. So yeah, fuck AI in like 90% of its current application usage. If you want to do something nice for your favorite artists or other creatives; tell them its ok to take their time. Tell them you love their work, even if their last update was months ago. Tell them they deserve to rest.

Because I guarantee you they don't think they do.

#fuck ai art #fuck ai writing #random