satoru gojo vs pr team
pairing: f1racer!gojo x reporter!reader
synopsis: satoru gojo was a legend on the grid, a brilliant racer. but satoru had a problem. he had a big mouth.
cw: racerjo, fluff, crack fic, no named teams, second pov, real f1 track mentioned like twice, THIS IS SO NOT ACCURATE (i'm trying to write this in the best way possible for the plot so it's not really 100% like f1), not proof read — wc 1.8k
a/n: race season is right around the corner and i am SO excited !! this one shot is also lowk a test run to see whether or not i actually want to write on here again
When people think of Satoru Gojo, they think of this fast driver who's a monster on the track.
But when the PR team thinks of Satoru Gojo, they think about ripping their hair out and duct taping his mouth shut.
It was undeniable that Satoru was a good driver. In fact, good was an understatement. He had 7 World Driver's Championships to his name and was aiming for a record breaking 8th.
Unfortunately, his team, while blessed with a champion and an amazing, well rounded driver, had been cursed with one who could not keep his mouth shut even if his life depended on it.
Satoru had been pushed out of interviews for slip ups. He'd been forced into long meetings with the PR team about what he could and could not say during press conferences. He never listened. He believed he was his own person and it's not like they could fire him, he's the best they had— is what he told his friends.
For someone who loved bragging about his wins, Satoru didn't favor post race interviews that much. He was tired, dripping in sweat and champagne, and wanted nothing more than to rip his race suit off and take a cold shower. But unfortunately, after a race, especially a podium, he had no choice but to suck it up.
Though one reporter was his favorite to talk to. He was lucky enough to call her his.
The race was exhilarating, more than usual. Satoru was neck to neck with Suguru, his race rival and long time best friend. Suguru was less than a tenth of a second behind Satoru who took the lead in P1. The checkered flag waved and Satoru finished first in his home country race, the Suzuka Circuit.
"We are here with Satoru Gojo who had just finished first on the podium for the Japanese Grand Prix," you started, microphone in hand, standing beside him as the camera focused onto him. "Satoru, congratulations on your win."
"Thank you," his lips curled into a smug smile, the apples of his cheeks flushed pink.
"Upon this race, you are now 60 points ahead of driver Suguru Geto for the World Driver's Championship. How will you hold out for the last 3 races of the season?"
Satoru grinned once more as he adjusted his team's hat that sat atop his white locks, still coated in sticky champagne. "I think as long as I keep P1 or even P2, though it's definitely a risk, I'll be fine. I also have no worries about whether I come in pole or not during qualifying."
"That's a very bold thing to say," you stifled a laugh, "Pole would help you immensely regarding race day."
Satoru shrugged his shoulders, "Yes, but I'm confident in the car and confident in myself. I will break the record for most WDCs."
—
The after party was small and quiet. It was at a small club near the hotel Satoru's team was staying in. Technically he lived in Monaco, like many of the other drivers on the grid, so Japan wasn't exactly his "home race" anymore. But a win was a win and if he wanted to celebrate for representing his birth country, he would.
Suguru sneaked in. He wasn't supposed to hang out with rival teams, but neither him or Satoru cared that much. It's not like they were spilling team secrets. Shoko was also there, she drove the medical car. And of course, Satoru's girlfriend, you, were also there.
There was no rule that flat out said reporters couldn't date drivers. But if anyone (besides the small group of people who already knew) found out, it would be very bad for both yours and Satoru's careers.
"If you keep PDAing like that, someone's bound to catch you." Suguru warned. Satoru's arm was wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you close into his side. "I swear, the FIA will fire you one day."
Satoru laughed heartily. He wasn't worried. The booth you four sat at was tucked in the corner of the VIP lounge. No reporters or nosy bystanders could possibly see. "Nah, they can't fire me. I'm the best."
"With that cocky attitude, they should," Shoko retorted as she took a long drag of her cigarette.
You laughed, reaching to the table to grab your cocktail. "It's not just your job on the line, it's mine too.”
You loved your job, interviewing drivers, writing reports. It was fun to see the behind the scenes firsthand, even if sometimes the questions you had to ask were wild and outright boundary pushing. On the plus side, you were able to hang around Satoru without any suspicion of your true relationship.
"Don't worry," Satoru smacked a cheesy, wet kiss onto your cheek, "If you get fired, I'll get fired too. Hashtag in this together."
"You're so corny, Satoru." Shoko scrunched up her nose, eyes rolling along with Suguru's.
—
"Satoru! I don't care if you date or hookup, but what the hell are you thinking!? Fooling around with a reporter!?" Yaga, Satoru's team principal yelled. Satoru sat in his office, hands in lap, back straight, smile peaking through the corners of his lips.
"That's not me, that's AI."
"Don't even start." Yaga swore that if he rolled his eyes any harder, they would pop out of its sockets. Leave to Satoru to retort something stupid right in the middle of a lecture.
Yaga's phone had a picture on screen. A picture of Satoru and you in the club from the week prior after Suzuka.
There were two questions running through Satoru's mind.
Why was the picture released almost two weeks after it was taken?
Who the fuck??
"C'mon Yaga, can't that be considered a friendly picture?"
Satoru was wrong when he thought no one would ever find out about him and you. You two kept it a secret for years! How could he only screw up now? Though opposite to his claim of a "friendly picture," it was indeed anything but that.
You were pinned up against the wall, one of his hands resting firmly on your waist while the other held your chin steady. His lips were molded against yours as your fingers tangled into his hair. He could still taste the alcohol on your tongue and they sweetness of your lipgloss glossing over his lips.
He was so going to kiss you the moment he sees you again.
"If you get asked any questions on this, do not respond. You're lucky you haven't been fined yet." Yaga pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a heavy sigh. "Go to your press conference, you're going to be late."
So now Satoru sat on the white leather couch, dressed from head to toe in team gear, with a chunky microphone resting on his lap. To his left was Suguru and his right, Nanami.
Suguru leaned over to whisper into Satoru's ear, his hand covering his mouth from any cameras or prying eyes. "I saw the picture, you're so fucked."
"Oh please, heaven forbid a man from openly loving his girlfriend." Satoru whined, pushing Suguru away from him.
Media days were always fun, besides the part where he'd have to answer the same boring questions during a conference. "Question for Geto."
Satoru sat there bored out of his mind as he listened to the other drivers answer questions and answered some of his own. It was always the same. Talk about the WDC, his car, his team, his future. Boring.
"Question for Gojo," Satoru's head perked up, "You have recently been spotted with a reporter and fans are wondering who they are and whether or not it will affect your career."
Intrusive much?
There was a long pause. Satoru knew he couldn't say what he wanted to say.
But come on, it was him. He was going to say it anyway.
His eyes immediately darted to you who stood next to the other reporters. Though unlike the rest of them, it seemed as if the life had drained for your body and you were a walking corpse.
You tried to subtly shake your head 'no.' A small gesture that would only be seen by Satoru and not alert anyone else.
"Well, my lovely girlfriend is not going to do harm to my career," Satoru babbled, his bright blue eyes shielded by dark sunglasses, "Don't really know what the problem is with me dating a reporter though."
Okay, at least he didn't outright say your name. But anyone with the brain capacity to put two and two together can easily tell that the woman in the picture was you just based on your appearance. So really, what's the point of that question in the first place?
He held eye contact with you. Your face went through a multitude of expressions that he couldn't read. He was in for it.
Of course, Satoru came back to the hotel to an irritated you. Which wasn't ideal considering his PR team had just chewed him out. Thankfully there were no major consequences and you both wouldn't lose your jobs. But now the tag of his name on every platform was blowing up.
"Baby, I'm sorry," he said, dragging out his words. You were sitting on the couch, scrolling through social media and reading what the fans had to say about your now public relationship. "It just slipped out!"
You rolled your eyes. Finally turning off your ohone and setting it onto the coffee table, you turned to look at him. "Slipped out my ass. You texted me saying how Yaga lectured you about it before the conference."
Satoru scooted towards you like a sad puppy, blue eyes sparkling with plea. "It takes two to make that picture so am I really the only one to blame?"
"You announced it to the world."
"We both still have our jobs."
"I can't interview you anymore," you sighed. "That's going to set my career back. Especially if you do end up breaking the world record."
"I'll force the FIA to let you interview me."
You almost laughed as your lips threatened to curl into a smile. It was cute, watching Satoru practically beg for forgiveness. "What's done is done."
He was now right in front of you. You studied the way his brows knitted together, lips pursed, hands brushing yours on your lap. "I'm sorry."
Sighing once more, you nodded. "Just for the record, I am not going to be addressed as your 'wag.' I'm my own person with a successful career."
Satoru's eyes lit up with a smile. His bold, intimidating persona fans see on the track was instead replaced with a vulnerable state of being.
He pressed a soft kiss onto your lips, feeling your warmth seep onto him. His calloused hand caressed the slope of your jaw gently, scared you'd slip away. You melted into his touch, tension disappearing into pure bliss.
Maybe this once his habit of speaking his mind was not so much of a bad thing.
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