I GOT A OTHER IDEAAAAA EHEHEHHW!!! So this time I will directly start with the driver our dear Jack, there isn't enough fan of him out there, like come on he is so cuteeee! Anyway I think you are aware all of the harassment the hate etc he had to got trough so maybe the episode he tell a out those people that he had to call the police on. What if his girlfriend, the reader obv, is at his apartment or something just chilling and hear some car pulling up and thought it was jack but upon hearing too much footsteps and different voices so she began to panic, maybe like she had just get out of shower, so she calls in panic at Jack. So Jack with Pierre and Kika (maybe they had to gone put and reader was sick and didn't want to pass it to kika and Pierre, Kika had taken reader under her wings being younger than her). So Jack rush home while calling the police and then all fluff and comfort i kno you will make a great writing put of this
πΫΆΰ§Cost of Fame. x JD7
#pairing: Jack Doohan x Fem!Reader
#summary; What crazy fans won't do to get a close look...
#word-count; 1.3K
MASTERLIST
Fame came with it's downsides.
The hatred, the opinions, he tended to not let it get to him. Like a wise man once said, a lion doesn't concern himself with the opinion of the sheep. He'd simply scroll knowing anyone saying anything about him hadn't done half the work he had in his life to be where he is.
But those stories of stalkers, people who will do anything for a look, a view, a photo, a touch, a smell... he thought those were fairy tells only scary to the ones whose fame was absolutely out of control. As in Michael Jackson, Britney Spears, not little him who drove an Alpine and his dad was a moto gp champion, albeit he wasn't a nobody, it's not like he couldn't go to the cinema every once in a while.
So he lived life in peace, appreciated the fanbase he had. Enjoyed the friends he made.
That night he, Pierre and his girlfriend Kika had plans to go to a restaurant, something nice and not too fancy, just to chat it out, become better teammates and most likely shit talk Flavio Briatore to hell. His own girlfriend however, Y/N, couldn't come because she had come down with some sort of flu, medicine would solve it but on the risk of infecting someone she decided to stay home.
"Have fun though, baby." She spoke with a hoarse voice.
"Poor you," His aussie accent strong and quite frankly teasing. He approached for a kiss yet she pulled away.
"Nu-uh! You don't want to be catching whatever I have, then how will you drive!"
He frowned as if confused, but clearly teasing her "With my feet and hands?"
She only giggled, slapping his thick biceps jokingly.
Her time at home was spent watching some TV shows, texting friends, taking more medicine and coughing a lot. Jack sent her the occasional "You good?" text to make sure she wasn't going into some crazy sepsis shock, which mad her chuckle a little everytime with his worry. She took a warm shower to perhaps unclog her filled lungs, and as she got out and wrapped her naked body in a towel to just go back to her bedroom and fall face first into the pillow she heard it.
The garage opening.
It didn't sound like the usual slow automatic opening of Jack's car coming in, and it's rather early for him to be home.
She tiptoed to the side window that could give her just the enough view she needed to see the back of his car, she didn't see it. Maybe he was already in? But the noises were still there... and now, a new one began. Voices. Not only one, multiple. Maybe it was Jack and Pierre? Could be a drunk neighbor. Hey-- it could be a lot of things, but just to be sure, she sent a text.
"Jack, you home yet? Are you trying to open the garage?"
Jack had felt his blood gone cold. He was far from home, still in the restaurant finishing his food, he probably wouldn't be home for half an hour.
"No, why? Is someone there?"
He sent back, suddenly stopping his meal to hold his phone tightly.
"Mate, you alright?" Pierre spoke with that very much stupid french accent.
He couldn't help but feel a bit of a cold sensation in his stomach. "I don't know, Y/Ns asking me if I'm opening the garage?"
Pierre frowned, now a bit more attentive to the conversation. "That's...strange."
Now, not to be paranoid, but Jack did have some cameras installed in his house. In case of robbery, just that. Maybe when they were on vacations. He never imagined he'd have to check on that whilst someone was in the house, but the thought of his girlfriend in danger was simply too much to play about. Most of them were just outside, one in the living room for good measure.
She had said the garage, he had a camera inside of it not outside. But even so, with the dimmed light, he saw it...the bottom moving up and down like someone trying to break in.
His whole body felt like wood, he felt like he couldn't move for a second. Couldn't speak. The adrenaline hit like a shot of crack trough his bloodstream when he sent a panicked message to his girl.
"Lock yourself in the bathroom, don't make noise, turn off the lights. I'm coming."
Which...obviously he forgot to add "And stay calm" because he could imagine she was about to die in a coughing fit from how much fear she was feeling. His head shot up with widen eyes at Pierre.
"Mate call the police for me, someone's trying to break in. I'm driving home."
His friend seemed equally bloody scared as he was, "What? Whats going on?"
"Someone's trying to break in!" He repeated, already standing up abruptly, throwing some 100 euro notes on the table to pay for the dinner without even checking and fast walking outside to the parking lot.
Pierre did as he was told, he wouldn't question it of course, now was not the time for "Are you sure?"
He passed Jack'd adress, the situation. "Yes there's someone in the house... h-his girlfriend, it's a tall girl, he said he sent her to the bathroom."
He didn't listen much, everything was spinning, the road seemed blurry, every red light was a joke. Why would he care about silly road laws when some unknown idiots where trying to break in his house?!
Even if the ride was only 10 minutes, it felt like 10 hours.
"They said they'll send someone over, they'll only take 5 minutes." Pierre warned him, which made him feel at least rather calm, they'd be there before he was apparently.
Said and done, by the time he pulled over in front of his house, about 10 cops were going about his property. Two young men sat by his garage door being questioned. He jumped out and before being able to rush in, a lady stopped him, apparently the captain.
"Mr Doohan?" She asked to confirm, he nodded-- cleaning the sweat from his brow, suddenly realizing how wet he was from the stress. "We cam as soon as we can, the two boys were trying to break in trough your garage, I understand you're a famous athlete?"
"Not that famous!" He argued, as if this was somehow his fault. "I-I'm a Formula 1 driver, never won anything." He blurted out, even if it pained him to say it.
She smiled sadly a bit, "Well, famous is famous, but nothing was stolen, no one was harmed, your girlfriend is inside."
"Can I go in?"
"Of course."
It was all he needed, his feet moved earlier than his mind as he shot down the door and into his very familiar home. He let his coat fall to the ground near his shoes and found his girlfriend sat in the living room wrapped in a blanket being questioned by another cop (now of course in comfy pajamas rather than wrapped in a towel.)
"Baby!" He exhaled, finally feeling the threat die down. He wrapped his hands around her shoulder. "Oh fuck, you scared me. Thank god I have the cameras."
"Sorry.." She mumbled shyly. "I thought it m-might have been just you and Pierre opening it or something, didn't want to go outside."
"No don't apologize, you did the right thing. You text me, never check out danger. See?" He kissed her temple softly "I took care of it." After a short moment of silence where he just sat besides her and brought her closer to rest his cheek on her head, he asked "Are you better?"
"Yeah, I am... much calmer, that's for sure." She leaned back with him, their bodies' heat growing at the contact. "Guess that's just the price of having a handsome hyper talented famous boyfriend."
#note; Me and the 7 Jack Doohan fans rejoiced at this ask fr. I know they got my boy stressing that one day he had to call the police. REQUESTS ARE OPEN BTWWW
Hey! Loved "The Fan" with Oscar Piastri, will there be a part four??
πΫΆΰ§The Fan x OP81
#pairing: Oscar Piastri x Fem!Reader
#summary; After years of a secret relationship, Oscar gets caught.
#word-count; 5K
#MASTERLIST
PT3, PT2 & PT1 <-
NSFW WARNING!
This had been going on for years by now.
As in, they had met in 2022, and now 2026 was coming up in nothing short of a month and a half. 2025 season was wrapping up, not the easiest of them for Oscar of all people. Dominating for so long only to loose it last moment to his teammate, it felt sour on his tongue. He felt proud for Lando, but also jealous, who wouldn't? It's a conflicting time when he has to be happy for someone, but sad for himself.
And the only person he ever wanted was Y/n.
Over the past years of their secret relationship, he had gotten better and better at hiding her only for himself. He bought a second phone that was dedicated to her, her contact, her calls, her photos. He kept it on a specific pocket of his coat and didn't let it ring if someone else was near. He travelled with her often now, whenever Lily couldn't make it to a race, he'd fly her in and spend one very good weekend.
There were some very memorable ones, like in Hungary 2024 when he took his first win, he ignored the team's little party (for obvious reasons) and came home to her. Grabbing her up and down, kissing her top to bottom.
Or during the Silverstone race earlier in the year, when he had fucked up, the team fucked up, and Lando brought it home. Gods he had been so pissed, at first all he wanted to do was sit with her wrapped in his arms and sulk, but soon they made it up.
It was like when she was there, the whole world didn't sound so loud. He could say the truth, blurt whatever came to his mind, fuck up, come back, and she'd still be there. As beautiful as the naked women in paintings you see at the Louvre. Shiny like a goddess, graceful like a swan, sweet like biscuits, gentle as a dove. He even felt a bit depressed when she had to go away, he'd grow colder, more dismissive. In races she couldn't attend-- specially the ones Lily came and the guilt burned his guts, he'd drive with his mind filled to the brink with memories of her voice.
Had a man ever been so in love like Oscar Piastri was in those very years?
She knew the end had to come at some time though, at night it kept her awake. Oscar would have to choose: Her or Lily. Stability over passion, and she wasn't sure she was ready for that day where she might finally be set aside and become just another fan. Maybe one day Oscar would finally grow the guts to dump Lily, or he'd ghost Y/n forever and they'd never see eachother again. From the million of scenarios she had imagined though.
She never thought the end would be like this.
And it all started on Abu Dhabi 2025.
***
The hotel room they were staying was simply fantastic, a large living room overviewing the bay. A large bedroom with a comfy bed. A huge TV. A nice enough kitchen even though most days they ordered take out. The usual luxuries Oscar afforded for them both to enjoy a weekend together, but this specific weekend had been nothing but very fun.
The championship was weighting on him more than ever, he could win it or loose it this weekend-- the closest he's been to the dream. The stars would have to align though, and the team (as always) wasn't on his side.
She was sitting on the couch with no pants on, just his large shirt swallowing her, some lingerie he had gifted her earlier in the morning and fuzzy socks-- when Oscar came back from his meetings around evening.
She could tell how stressed out he was, his jaw was set, his shoulders rigid. He looked at her softly though when she approached gently and took his bag.
"You alright?"
His lips pursed "No, not really."
They both sat back in the living room with the TV on low now. Oscar passed a nervous hand trough his hair before he began.
"They're all for Lando now, it's him against Verstappen this weekend, I'm back at being driver N2." He sighed heavily. "I worked so hard for it, led the championship all this time just for--for luck! It was bad luck, most of it. Suddenly it was like my car hated me!"
For a moment of silence as he tried to recollect himself and not tear up out of frustration, she passed a hand trough his bicep, calm and soft before he continued.
"I don't know when am I gonna have a chance like this one. A good car, Verstappen behind. What if I never do and I'm just like Mark: The guy everyone thought would win but never did." Gods he looked devastated, until August he had been convinced he had it in the bag if he just kept up the pace, and now it had all crumbled.
She finally allowed herself to speak. "You will get your chance, because you have talent and not just the car. You're only in your 3rd season, you have a whole career ahead of you."
And albeit her words were true: Focus on the future, don't dwell on the past, his feelings sat hard on his chest. The media could call him the ice boy all day, behind closed doors he melted.
"Just feels so unfair.. it's always either we both get the same thing or I have to give mine to Lando, like we're siblings and our parents have a favorite." He chuckled bitterly at the thought "I guess it sort of is, he's the face of McLaren and I'm the other guy."
"McLaren is stupid for not prioritizing any of you properly, you have to stand up for yourself. And if they try to dump you out, you know how many teams are waiting on you." And she was right once again, in their more intimate moments he had shown her the contract options he had received over the year: Mercedes, Red Bull, Ferrari, they all wanted a piece of young talent mixed with the basic experience. Stuff he had probably not been allowed to show anyone else, but he couldn't help himself.
Oscar sniffed, as if a bit teary eyed. "You're right...why am I stressing out about one year, with one team, when I have so many more years with other teams." He tried to repeat it in his head, to believe it.
His eyes drifted to her then, not to her face, to her legs. His warm hand reached out to grip her thigh, not squeezing it just holding it.
"You know what would really help me?" His voice was a low murmur, and a smirk crept to his lips.
She chuckled, didn't need to be told twice, her lips came down on his in a second. He tasted of oranges and cold water, quite pleasant. She held his cheeks in her hands and his own hand came to push her face closer. With Oscar, everything was hard and passionate, even years later. They gasped every once in a while to keep kissing.
In a swift movement he slid her across his lap, cradling her over him whilst he kept making out with her face. He needed her whole though, not just her fine lips. His mouth found her neck, sucking and kissing making her giggled at the funny familiar feeling. His rough hands from holding the steering wheel so much slipped under the fabrics of the shirt and began sliding on her smooth skin, gripping her lightly-- not wanting to hurt her, just feel her.
"Missed you so much." He breathed out at some point, when his hands were pulling her down and his lips were nearly at her belly button. "You wouldn't believe it. I see you everywhere, all the time."
"Me too." She exhaled, her hands holding his tidy well kept hair back as to not fall back. "I wait everyday for your texts."
She felt as his jeans got a bit tight then, his face scrunched up as if in pain and his head lolled back. "C-can we--"
"Please."
His hands were at his zippers as fast as a McLaren, pulling it down, struggling against his pants. He had too much trouble though, and for a moment he put her aside as he stood up. "Give me a sec-- go undressing." He demanded as he ran for his bag pack, the one she had just set aside, searching for something.
Slowly, sensually, she slide her shirt off and tossed it aside, her belly turned with the familiar excitement of knowing what came next. She sat on her knees on the sofa as she watched him fumbled with a condom he probably just bought in a pharmacy some days earlier, he ripped it out its plastic container and slid it up his-- now free cock. She always found that strangely sexy, the way he had to adjust that slicky thing because he was too big for it sometimes, it needed stretching. The more time it took the more she grew anxious, looking at his dick like a kid looks at a cookie their parents are about to buy.
In 3 steps he was back all over her, his brow furrowed with a fake sort of anger. "I told you to undress." He hissed, his fingers finding the edge of her panties and sliding them now, nearly ripping them.
"Osc--! They're brand new!" She laughed, her mouth open in a gasp as well when the air hit her. "You bought them for me."
"Yeah, to rip them off you." He sounded hungry.
She knew whatever sex they were about to have was fueled by his frustration, and those were the best sessions.
She slid over him like a cowgirl over a saddle, hands holding his shoulders hard whilst her hip tried to find the right position. Oscar held her by her hip and ass, one hand guiding her to the side and one up, directing her position whilst he breathed hard.
"Up..up.., a bit more-- there, a-ah fuck... yeah, right there." His eyes closed when his cock found her wet warmth to be wrapped around in.
Usually when they were in this position, her sitting over him, she couldn't sit all the way down or else it'd hurt. But just to edge him she slid very slowly until her limit. They both shivered at the first wave of euphoria that ran trough them.
"You're so hot, it kills me." He sighed, "Only you get me hard this quick."
It began gentle, but when he was this frustrated it could never stay that way. She was only halfway up when he began rocking his hip against her. Her moans, small at first, became gasps -- not of surprise exactly, they had fucked each other so many times, she knew what positions he liked, what he liked to hear, the expression he made when he was cumming and how loud he groaned. Still, angry sex with Oscar always came with a bit of harshness she welcomed.
"Fuck, Oscar...so hard." She whimpered, it fueled his needs to be hers.
He kept forcing his hip up and down, whilst she herself sat on him, an overstimulation that drove him crazy. He wasn't openly vocal in thee moments, but very handsy. Whilst one of his hands held her steady by the hip, the other was playing with one of her tits (still behind the lingerie he just wanted to burn now.)
They were a moaning mess then, him hissing at how good she made him feel besides all the mess. The way his body seemed to react so strongly to her, to how wet she always was for him, it didn't matter if damn McLaren wanted him or not-- she did, and she was all that mattered right then and there. They were working each other up, wanting to see the other cum the faster and harder they could.
It was in that extremely incriminating position they got caught.
The door opened, Oscar hadn't locked it, just closed before he began talking. That fucking British voice sounding:
"Mate, I knocked but like--"
They all stared at each other then. Lando's eyes widening, his confusion clear. Oscar and Y/n's faces drained of all color, pale as eggs, but unable to let go due the shock. At least Oscar had the decent thought of using his hand to cover his cock that was still very much inside of her. The moment felt like an eternity when really it was just about 4 seconds before he yelled.
"Get the fuck out!-- And stay out, I need to talk to you!"
Lando held his hands up like in a surrending motion, "Sorry! Sorry! I knocked!" And left with a loud thud of the door.
Oscar helped her out his lap gently, she was shaking bad. This was the one thing that could never happen, someone catching them in this sort of position doing what they were doing! She covered herself up with the shirt, jaw trembling as tears rushed to her eyes.
He was quick to pull his trousers up, wipe his cock, and lean down to kiss her forehead. "Hey, hey shh, it's okay, I'll have a word with him." He whispered, his hand softening her hair before he walked out.
Outside, Lando was still looking bewildered. Like he just saw an alien inside area 51. He didn't give Oscar a single second to talk before asking right away: "Who the hell is that? That ain't Lily."
"No, it's not." He admitted, looking down at the ground, tapping his foot. "Listen, you can't tell anyone what you saw. Please."
"Is this a one time thing?" Lando asked, more out of curiosity.
"No, it's uhm... it's been some time."
"How much time?"
After a timid silence, Oscar admitted: "Since 2022."
"WHAT." His teammate gasped, trying to be quiet since they were in the middle of the hallway where anyone from the team could walk in. "You've had a second girlfriend since bloody 2022? Where the fuck did you meet her?"
"At a...fan event."
"A FAN--" He caught himself being loud, and had to breathe deep "You've been having a relationship with a fan?! Are you insane?"
"She's different, okay? She knew me before all of this, she's been with me on my hardest moments and my best ones." He insisted, sounding more genuine than Lando had ever heard him be. "Just..we'll talk later, okay? Can you just promise you won't tell anyone, not Zak, not your mum, not your bloody closest friend, no one?"
The brunette sighed, whipped his head around a if checking there were no witnesses, an nodded. "I won't, don't worry. But you really gotta do something about it, before it explodes."
"I will.. I'm trying to. And anyway, why are you coming into my hotel dorm?"
"I-- was gonna comfort you about the bloody championship, seems you got yourself enough comfort." Norris teased, which didn't really make Oscar laugh. "I didn't see anything, text me, okay?"
They bid their farewells properly, and even if Oscar didn't really trust Lando to keep this secret long enough, he let him go. Walking back into the room, he locked the door obviously and came back to her side.
His love still looked a bit shaken, her tears had slowed but she was still quite pale.
"What did he say?" She asked quickly. Oscar just pulled her closer in the sofa, tucking her head under his chin.
"He'll keep the secret, it's alright." He whispered.
She sniffed sadly, it broke his heart. "I was being too fucking loud, we should have heard the knock."
"No-- hey, none of that, I was careless and left the door open. Just.. it's fine, Lando won't make noise."
So why couldn't he top thinking about it?
Why did he lay in bed that night with his heart hammering, knowing he was approaching his cornelian dilemma: Lily or Y/n. It's like two different ice cream flavours.
Lily is the vanilla, everyone knows and likes. She's always been there, she's pretty, she's quiet. She's what you get when you don't know what to get and are scared to pick something else and be sick.
Y/n is the bubblegum, new flavor, mostly unknown and morally strange to choose, but it's the flavorful, the colorful and fun. She's the one he wants to pick over and over again, but scared of what others will say-- not to him, he couldn't give two shits about licking bubblegum ice cream, but to her.
The internet is unforgiving, people will find out who she is, her origins, how she came to be. Even if he made up a story, dumping Lily would make fans furious. They could doxx Y/n, send death threats, or worse, and that did scare him. He didn't want her crying, or hurting, ever.
But here, someone gets hurt in the end, it was unavoidable.
The thoughts ate away at him, he was quieter in team meetings, staring Lando down most the time. He bought her a big plushie to soothe her worries, didn't want to see his baby upset.
Sunday, he drove like a maniac, but so did Norris. He knew nothing he did would get him that trophy, but loosing felt extra sour when he could also be loosing the girl he loved soon. He hugged his sisters stiffly, his mother looked worried, and he felt at the bottom of the pit, the light at the end of the tunnel was not near at all.
He walked back to the hotel with a heavy cloud above his head, just wanting to drown in her arms, until he heard:
"Osc! Wait up mate." Lando, gods what did he want now? Won the championship already, what else does he need? "Team's gonna throw a party, you know? It'd be nice if you came."
He wasn't much of a party boy, but the idea of drinking his sorrows away did seem appealing. He didn't want to give in to Lando though, so he just mumbled "I'll think about it." before going inside his room.
Her arms wrapped around him immediately, her kiss came soon after. "You drove like a champ, Osc." She breathed next to his ear, "You'll get it one day."
He hugged her in silence, feeling her body rub against him, memorizing how good it felt to just have her. In a push of impulse, he demanded then: "Get dressed, please love, we're going out."
Her eyes shined a bit, "Where to?"
"A team party." He declared, putting a hand in her shoulder firmly "It'll be hidden, I'll go masked up, we go in the back, drink some, I give Zak some shit and we go out trough the back door, okay?"
She still seemed hesitant, but if he had confidence, she'd follow him.
It was a tense night after all, she too was getting fed up with Oscar a bit. This man was testing her, she needs him to tell her what decision is he making. What is taking him so long to do it? She had been loyal, she had been secretive, she had kept her life at bay for him, the least he could do was explain to her what was going on trough his head. And then again, it was her idol, the boy and now man she had looked up since forever, and she couldn't stay mad at him for long.
They got to the bar at around 10pm.
The team was already there partying, Lando was a bit tipsy already and getting handsy with some dudes, Zak was talking loud as hell. Oscar held his mask and sunglasses tight to his face as he led Y/n in trough the back door, where more drunk fools got out and wouldn't notice them. They sat at a far away booth with high walls where he could at least keep the mask down to talk to her.
They began with two cocktails and some fries, waiting for it had felt like an eternity.
"Lando's happy." She commented, giggling a bit at having spied the boy being held by someone on their shoulders.
Oscar shared the laugh "I'd be too if I was bloody world champion."
They talked softly for way too much time, drinking.
"What did Lando say about the situation?" She asked at some point.
"He just.." Oscar begun " Accepted it, ain't his problem, it's mine."
And more and more, he began to feel tipsy, he was really drinking to forget that championship, and the decisions, and all this bloody hell his life was becoming. He didn't usually do this, he preferred to deal with his problems straight on, but it was all too much.
About the time he was drunk and slurring his words is when she asked--- now in a more quiet, shy voice.
"What are you going to do with me?"
He frowned for a second, really not understanding what she meant. "What you mean?"
"Oscar..this is snowballing too much, Lando saw us, sooner or later someone else will and it'll blow up in our faces. You need to decide something." Fuck her voice sounded teary, she was afraid, just like him.
He sighed, head lolling down. "I don't know, okay?" He mumbled "I need time to..to think."
"If you want to end things with me just say it."
He looked up at her quickly then, too quick for his drunken mind. "What?"
"It's been nearly 4 years, the best ones of my life. You gave me everything I always wanted but I can't go into 2026 stil in doubt of who I am." She sounded firm, face scrunching up in both fear but guilt.
"What do you mean who are you, you're my girlfriend." He insisted, hands reaching out to hold hers.
She pulled them away. "I'm not, I'm a mistress. And mistresses don't get the home, nor the public, nor the right to say they are girlfriends." She sat back, exhaling heavily "Who am I going to be in 5 years?"
Normally, he'd sit with her all night soothing her, kissing her worries away, buy her something nice and sleep it out. But the drinking got to his head, and the ice boy was no longer. He got up, so hard he pushed the table back a bit. He tore the sunglasses, the mask, the cap from his face and threw them to the floor. He swayed a bit on his feet as he grabbed her arm and pulled her out the booth. "Cmon."
"O-Oscar, what are you doing?!" She whispered, trying to pull him back before someone saw.
"No, you wanna understand things-- you're doubting me, that's what you're doing, you're doubting my feelings." He wasn't making much sense, eyes glassy and the stink of booze. "I'm gonna--" He hiccuped "I'm gonna show you, then, my feelings."
She barely had the time to register when he began pulling her trough the party, it was like everything was in slow motion. He was leaning hard on her to keep balance, and she held him up to not let him fall. They walked out trough the main fucking door of the bar, many of the engineers already stopping to look at him, whispering "Is that Lily?" "Doesn't look like her."
People pulled out their phones and filmed, at first discreetly, but later not so much.
"Oscar, people are seeing this." She hissed, stopping him from walking out. Here they could still do some damage control.
"Good," He retorted "I want them all to see, fuck them."
He held her face in place as he kissed her, sloppy and wet. Eating at her face with crazy will.
"I love you." He sounded like a sad kitten now. "You questioning me makes me so sad." He kissed her again, more on the side of her lips now given he couldn't aim properly.
She held his wrists tightly then "Because--! You need to make a choice."
"Then I choose you. All of you. I just want you. Stay with me, please don't leave me." He begged, christ sake. "I'll fight all those bastards on the internet, just be mine, forver."
Her widen eyes were locked on his, she knew the cameras were still pointed at them, still filming them, and that this was the end, wherever she wanted it or not. Maybe tomorrow he'd wake up and see these videos and decide he was drunk, deny, and ghost her forever. Maybe this was her last night with him, might as well make it worth.
"I am yours." She teared up "You know I am, forever."
He kissed her again, so close to her now he nearly stumbled over her. They left the bar in a frenzy of people filming them, photographing them. Lando looked wildly surprised, just days ago Oscar had begged him to keep the secret and here he was revealing it himself. Zak was besides himself, from every scandal his drivers could get away with-- this wasn't going to be one of them.
Outside it was even worse, fans were waiting to catch a glimpse of the drivers, and instead were faced with a very drunk Oscar Piastri dragging and kissing this unknown girl. He had her pressed against his side.
"Where's my car...fuck,where did I leave it?" He asked himself, before he could think about it, a fan nearby screamed.
"Oscar! Whose that!"
He smiled, not smirked, smiled his full bunny teeth at the crowd. He spun his darling around and nuzzled his face closer to her neck. "It's my girlfriend!"
"We need to go." Y/n insisted, dragging him now, it was really a battle of who dragged who.
"No! Don't ruin it now, I can't drive anyway... I'm calling a taxi."
He held his hand up, found a random guy who parked for them and stuffed her inside. Already the amount of proof against him was exploding, but the night was only now beginning.
"Where to, Mr?"
"Is Cartier still open?" He asked the driver, shushing Y/n when she tried to speak up, "Nearest one, please."
"What are you doing?! We need to go home right now!" She hissed
He just scoffed and leaned into her so hard he put his head on her lap, purring like a cat. "Gonna buy you a ring, a real one, should've done it sooner."
"You're joking... Oscar, this is madness, do you know what you just did?"
"I do," He nodded, eyes a bit wild-- damn, he wasn't even sleepy, he was maniac. "And I know I'm doing what my heart wants me to do, and it's all that matters."
He kissed her neck, hugged her, he seemed desperate. His phone was ringing loudly with different numbers: Lando, Zak, Andrea. He didn't pick up a single one, just set it on silent and let the scene roll.
He burst into Cartier with her, smiling lazily as he looked at all the jewelry. Fancy, obnoxiously expansive stuff.
"Pick one, darling." He practically moaned into her ear "Nothing's too much, it's for you."
"Osc--"
"Just do what I say, dammit. I love you, I love you more than Romeo loved bloody Juliet. Now cmon." He sat back in a white couch waiting for her decision, the store staff (already tired from working such late hours in the arab state) watched the scene curiously. One of the ladies did approach Y/n, pulling her apart to try and sell whatever the drunken fool would buy.
She found herself a beautiful, not very expansive, a pink gemstone that reminded her a lot from the shirt he was wearing the day they met-- the Alpine colours. He stood up and hugged her from behind, kissing her earlobe. "Is it that one you want?"
She nodded shyly, if this really was her last day, at least she'd have a gift. "Sure, I love it."
She finally convinced him to get back to the hotel, it was too much for one night. They drove back in another taxi, where he seemed more sleepy now. Kissing her slowly, hands tightening around her legs, she kissed him bac, held his hair, took in his smell even when it was all just alcohol.
Back at their room, he slumped down smiling like an idiot. "See? Isn't this all you ever wanted? It's what I did."
"Did you?" She whispered, sat on the floor in front of him, holding the bag with the ring close to her.
"Yeah... I had fantasies, you know? About showing you off, putting you on a pedestal, so many days and nights.." He almost looked like he wanted to cry. "...Give me the ring, cmon... let me do it right."
She puffed out a laugh, puling out the delicate jewelry from its box and handing it to him. He made a grand show.
"Will you, Y/n, make me..the absolutely happiest man alive and marry me?"
"Sure I will." She wasn't taking it seriously, smiled sadly when he slid it on her finger, and looked at his eyes to make sure she always remembered the right shade of brown they were. "I love you, Oscar."
"I love you more."
He fell asleep right then and there, peacefully, unaware of the bomb already going on in twitter. Videos were posted, photos as well, with audios, there was no denying. Fans were loosing their minds, his team even more. Zak was just about to kick his door open to shake him awake he was. In the morning, his family would find out, they'd send it all to Lily, who would be terrorized by the humiliation going on in the media. One question swirling in everyone's mind: Who is that girl? Y/n wasn't no influencer, she had no big account people could point out to, no past beyond being a simple fan. It's like trying to find the hot guy you saw on the subway on facebook, you have no clues.
But by morning, when he woke up sober, before seeing anything on the media and reaching out to his side to bring her closer and kiss her good morning--he'd find out she was long gone from the hotel, Abu Dhabi, and himself. A single note left on the TV screen:
#note; The people have asked for a pt4 of the fan, HERE IT GOES. Tbh for a pt 5 I might need some of y'alls ideas so post it up on my inboxxx
I'm gonna say this once again this is >>NOT<< a Lily Zneimer hate fic, I love my queen and this is merely a fanficton for entertainment purposes.
TAG LIST: @barcelonaloverf1life @eatmyass300 @originaldaughterofagun @oddjaid @omniandscared @jsprien213 @thegwen @banananie @sanguineassassinblizzard @blablabla2242 @leslybread81 @seawaterbrain @itzzjulie
Comment if you wanna be tagged in the next part (or stop being tagged). Thank you guys so so much and my requests are open!!
hi!! i was wondering if you could write one for kimi?
something along the lines of: female reader (who is the daughter of one of his engineers) finds kimi having a panic attack after a bad race?
thanks!
πΫΆΰ§The prodigal son returns. x KA12
#pairing: Kimi Antonelli x Fem!Reader
#summary; Kimi finds support in the last of people he should.
#word-count; 1.3K
#MASTERLIST
There's a couple of people who, you know, are out of limits.
Kimi, being a young 18yo when he joined Mercedes, was given his fair share of friendly and non-friendly warnings about who could he make eyes at and whom he couldn't. Some driver's younger sisters, some celebrities who came by, and N1 DO NOT TOUCH was Y/N.
Bono's youngest daughter.
As much as Kimi was the prodigal son of Mercedes, the future world champion, the Verstappen project. Y/N was the prodigal daughter, a tiny Bono in overalls. She worked with her dad in the garage constantly, learned to read data, analyze strategy calls, point out mistakes and how to calm a very angry driver.
What didn't help was how pretty she was, and just about his age as well. But Bono had been very firm about the professional line between Kimi and his daughter.
They had chatted, of course they had, wasn't like they were two horny dogs who wouldn't be in the same room. Kimi had tried to get cheeky more than once.
"Why don't you wear my number?" He had asked one day, given she never wore any of the driver's numbers, just the team kit.
She chuckled "I can't take sides."
"Your dad is my engineer?" He pointed out, sounding mildly offended.
"Yes, my dad, not me."
Bono had stared him to death that day, demanding Y/n stay about 1 meter away from Kimi at all times and that they talked loud enough for someone else to hear.
On another occasion, Kimi was standing way too close to her on the hallway whining.
"I didn't lock up! Your dad is lying." He was fiercly denying the mistake he had done on the Monaco qualy, trying not to seem desperate.
"My dad never lies, you're delusional, you locked up." She insisted, both of them a little too blushed for Bono's' liking.
Even, during Canada's qualy when Kimi had gotten a fairly good placing, he turned up the radio and teased "Did Y/N see that?"
Bono had replied a very short. "Quit it, Kimi." that made the whole internet blow up.
Silly flirtation, really, teenagers batting eyes at eachother. It'd be the perfect pairing: The driver and the engineer, it's like the princess and the knight. A pair destined to work out. All year they remained on that back and fourth crush, blushing, giggling, sending texts she hid from her father because oh if he knew Kimi had taken to messaging his daughter, he'd make sure a DNF was incoming.
Then came the Chinese Grand Prix of 2026.
Mercedes had showed itself mad dominant over the past race in Australia where Russel had won, it came with the question: Could Antonelli top George? Could talent beat experience? All those questions came to China with the team, who constantly teased Kimi about how he needed to beat his teamate soon. Y/n hadn't thought much of it, just that the team was easing off the pressure a bit.
That wasn't the case at all, she found later. It came crashing right around the morning of the race. She had dressed herself, grabbed her data files, and walked out trough the hotel hallway quietly. A text from her dad stopped her thought:
"If you're coming down, call Kimi, he isn't answering his phone."
How strange, he wasn't one to just ignore the team altogether, even if he was in deep shit he'd reply. Maybe his alarm just didn't sound at all and he was snoring his life away.
She made her way to his room, 112 if her mind didn't fool her, and knocked lightly. "Kimi, wake up!"
No reply sounded, gods was he that deep into slumber?
"Kimi! Cmon, the team's asking for you."
She heard shuffling, a quite frantic one, the door unlocked quickly and nearly knocked him down when he opened it. His curly hair was a mess, jumping everywhere, he only had his pants pulled up and no shirt on as if he had been caught in the middle of something. It was his face and behavior that shook her though: His face was red and a bit puffy, but no tears were falling. His hands were shaking so bad he looked like he was vibrating, and his breathing sounded worse than all: A harsh wheezing, like he had some dying case of tuberculosis going on.
She stepped back at first, eyes widen the size of an orange. "Kimi?! Are you okay?"
"No fuck I'm not." He replied a bit abruptly, he walked back inside his hotel room with his hands in his hair.
Y/n followed him in, and after closing the door quietly and putting her stuff on the ground, approached him carefully. "What's going on? You need a medic?"
"Don't call anyone!" He pleaded, he swayed on his feet as if feeling faint. "I just-- listen, I can't...the team is making stuff up, they're making stuff up."
"What stuff, Kimi?"
"We got the car, right?" He looked a bit crazy for a moment there "And I know how to drive it, right? But what if I don't? What if I mess up and Toto sends my ass to Alpine?"
Was that what was causing this whole commotion? A deathly fear of getting sent to Alpine? Jokes apart, he looked really stressed out.
"Hey, first of all, take a breath." She tried to coax him, but he didn't seem very soothed. "This is only the 2nd race of the season, you did good last year."
"Yeah but now it's championship level." He argued, shaking his head and passing both his hands trough his hair, he looked sweaty. "I'm never going to beat Russel, he's been in this for years!"
She didn't want to comfort him by saying stuff she didn't know, nothing was certain. She made her way to him and held him by his wrists so he'd stop agitating himself with his wild gestures. "Listen, listen, hey calm down." She waited for him to look at her in silence. "There's only been 1 race all season, it's only your second year in Mercedes, Verstappen took years to win a championship in Red Bull. Besides... I've seen you race, I follow my dad's data, and although yes you lock up, you're one of the most promising teenage drivers of the decade."
He chuckled lightly at her joke, his knees buckled and he layed back down on his bed. To help with his sweatiness, she opened up his window to let the air in and sat besides him on his bed. Her hands finding his hair and twirling his curls around her fingers. "You just need to chill, keep your head on your shoulders, and remember: the team is always behind you."
He nodded, rubbing his eyes trying to focus back on reality. "You know..what would really help me right now?"
"What?" She was ready for anything, cup of water, donut, call with family, she knew the procedures her dad had taught her.
He smirked a bit then, "Kiss?"
Her face went up in bloody flames, like the whole room suddenly just got hotter by 20 degrees. Maybe it was how sudden it was, or because she always presumed Kimi was off limits, or how secretive it was, but then again if her father couldn't see it he couldn't condemn it.
Without a word, she leaned down and caught his lips, they were a bit wet from sweat sure she won't lie, they didn't taste like strawberry lipgloss, but such an intimate touch with this offbounds guy felt like a full body sensation. More so when his hand came to cup her cheek. Didn't last long, they pulled away soon enough, but there was a secret understandment in both their eyes:
#summary; Where a blog blows up about having a strange accuracy on race predictions, until a certain driver gets worried about it...
#word-count; 1K
#MASTERLIST
The accuracy was unsettling.
At first, it was just Y/Ns dumb blogs about F1 predictions. She'd post, get some basic likes (mostly her friends), giggle when she got something right.
Until it became serious, because everything she posted became true almost instantly. "Max will DNF in Australia" she wrote, and he did indeed.
Next race, "Red Bull will have a 1-2", sure not a SUPER prediction, but it became true.
Next one, "Nico Hulkenberg will come P10", and there he was in the chinese GP: In P10.
It was by the Miami GP that she blew up online when she correctly predicted Lando Norris would take his first win, that wasn't exactly a probability guess.
It gathered fans of course, if someone could be this accurate surely it meant something. Either her luck was huge or she was one damn good fortune teller. By mid season people were looking forward to her posts, they felt a pit in their stomach when she said their driver would DNF, others felt the sun shine brighter when she poster that their driver would make the podium that weekend.
To her really it was a streak of luck waiting to end, she wasn't going deep into research, wasn't observing mechanics or making money out of it. She just had a feeling, posted anything she thought was right, and giggled when it became true.
When race 8 of the calendar hit: Monaco, things took a shift though.
She had been posting more than normal, about updates, drivers, fp1, qualy. And eventually, she made a single take that sent her fans into overdrive:
"Charles Leclerc will DNF in Monaco, collision with Lewis Hamilton, lap 32."
If you were any slight fan of Formula 1 you'd know Leclerc had a huge bad streak on his home Grand Prix. With crashes, failed pit stops, rain, and general lack of luck. The comments were many on that single post.
"Girl, DELETE THISSS"
"don't let ferrari see this"
"FYM he'll DNF"
"Easy shot, he always does bad in monaco."
"NOOOOOO"
"If he does I fear he might retire"
"fearing lap 32 all time now wdym"
"if I catch you on the streets ur done"
Now listen, Charles didn't like to be supersticious. But when Carlos send him that post saying "Mate you're crashing.", he did feel a bit..panicked.
He already had every single factor against him, and now the (apparent) best predictions blog on the internet was making comments like these? He went up on the posts all night, comparing the results to the predictions, finding 90% of the time she was right or every nearly right. He tried not to think about it, tried to play it cool, sent back a "lmao" to Sainz, but sleep never came.
In a bout of anxiety, he opened tumblr, created a fake account, found her blog once again and sent her one very ominous message:
"Delete that."
Y/N stared at the notification, wouldn't be the first time a fan sent her something like that. People grew desperate, and some weirdos took it to heart. She replied, like she often did.
"Someone felt that, lol" She began, and sent a second one "Chill, sometimes I'm wrong."
"No you don't understand. Delete that right now and post that I'm gonna win."
"I'm?" Y/n thought with discomfort. It couldn't be, Leclerc didn't waste his time messaging people on the internet, did he?
She didn't reply then, figuring it was some creep with a god complex trying to scare her off, she just put her phone down and went to sleep.
Now imagine her shock when, watching Saturday's interviews, the following video popped up to her:
It was Charles being interview in the media pen.
"Charles, do you find yourself being superstitious about Monaco with your repeated bad results over the years?" The female interviwer asked, she was out of view, only her microphone appeared as she pointed it at Leclerc.
His eyebrows shot up and he nervously laughed. "I do, much more than I'd want to admit. In fact--" He continued "Yesterday I sent a message to a blog that said I was going to crash, I really need her to delete that by the way."
Her hands were frozen in position, he couldn't mean her-- well of course it was her! Who else could it be?! Her fingers moved at lightening speed and in seconds, the dumb post was out of the air, she quickly retyped something new:
"Charles Leclerc will win the Monaco Grand Prix." and hit post ASAP.
Her inbox was full of people laughing at her for changing her opinion, others were happy that she did. But she couldn't stop thinking about him: The way he had actually messaged her, the way he had demanded it, how much her comments affected a driver!
Her phone buzzed so much she picked it up to silence it-- she couldn't handle the incessant messages, texts, likes and comments coming trough. Just as she was about to put her device down, her eyes caught on a notification, the same account from yesterday that now she figured it was Charles'
"Thank you" He wrote "You don't know how much it helps me."
When the initial wave of "CHARLES LECLERC TEXTED ME" passed, she called all of her friends, printed the chat a million times, kicked her legs like a damn schoolgirl, twirled her hair and shrieked.
During the race on Sunday she clenched her fists harder than anyone else, everytime someone got too close to Charles (SPECIALLY Lewis) her heart would beat faster and she felt like fainting. Every lap, every second felt like hours to the end. And when the sky sports commentator began his final speech as Charles approached the finish line? Tears were mandatory. It was an absolute historical moment to witness, for all involved. She clapped, yelled, bawled, got a bit red when Leclerc mentioned "Even the people online who helped me" in his winning speech, thinking maybe he had spared a thought to her.
That was it though, wasn't it? She closed Monaco as "that one very weird and particular time a driver contacted me."
She kept working, chuckling whenever it sprung to mind, Leclerc was back at being a far away celebrity.
I love the little trope where it's the famous legendary gruff father, the wife he is obsessed over and their son who is so different from his dad but yearns to be just like him.
Odysseus, Penelope and Telemachus I'm looking at you.
#summary; How (I think) F1 drivers would act becoming dads for the first time.
#pairing: MV3, LH44, CL16, LN1, OP81 x Fem!Reader
#word-count; 1.5K
#MASTERLIST
MAX
We know sooome things abut him since he did become Lily's dad a year ago
Absolutely showed up in his team kit (but changed later.)
He cries, not full on sobbing but so many tears are falling from his eyes and he's shaking his head like "Nop, I'm not crying."
He wasn't super stressed about raising a kid, he's had younger siblings, he knows right from wrong.
But the fear of imitating his dad in aspects does stick to him a bit.
Super composed, he's not phased by the eventual scary parts of birth.
Altough he does get a bit surprised about how aggressive it can be.
Will go silent on everyone. Got the Red Bull team STRESSING.
His N1 priority is whatever his partner says is right. If she says she needs a break, he'll demand a break. If she's thirsty, he'll grab water. It's her above everyone.
Gets a bit shy if he doesn't know what's happening at some point, but will ask and make sure to understand.
The more time it takes the more worked up he gets, he knows quicker births mean less pain and long births mean complications, so he'll get a bit fidgety and snappy.
WILL.NOT.LEAVE.
Eating, sleeping, showering, that'll come after.
The moment his kid is born? The baby cry? He goes quiet.
It's not that he's angry or sad, he's OVERWHELMED by joy, and relief of course.
When he recovers from the first wave of shock asks 1839813 questions on how his baby is.
Will GLADLY loose a media day over it (we know he was happy as hell Lily was born so close so thursday.)
Sort of guy to buy his partner a big gift after, mostly because of how horrified he was she had to go trough that.
LEWIS
Oh this boy was READY to see this baby be born.
His partner will catch him reading all sorts of books, and blogs, and watching videos about birth.
Doesn't want to be the clueless husband who knows nothing.
Depending on the birth, he's actually chill.
If it's those slow ones that take hours to actually get to the point, he's super calm, lots of reassuring words, sends a couple of texts to Ferrari to reassure them he'll be off for a while.
If it's something more surprising and fast moving he might panic a little and throw money at any problem. "Oh we need an emergency--" he's already signing the papers, he'll do anything for it to go correctly.
Probably prefers some natural birth like those done in the water, might even get in the pool with his partner.
Has a whole playlist ready which involves mostly lo-fi songs or nature ambiance.
I feel like he's the sort of guy who'd invite his mum to be in the room....I don't know, I just feel it.
Because he'd want her advice.
Had the biggest baby bag ready, huge thing where he stuffed all sorts of stuff for any tiny emergency.
Probably also let his dogs be around for calming measure.
King of reassuring words and physical contact, sits behind his partner all the time rambling about how amazing she is, how strong she is, etc...
When his baby is born, he's a huge softie.
Directs the nurses to handle the baby to his partner immediately for skin-to-skin contact (like he read, again, very informed man.)
Most likely said something very cheesy like "Welcome to earth, buddy!"
Hygiene freak later on, doesn't late anyone near his newborn and partner if they haven't washed hands twice.
CHARLES
Ignored the event for so long, because he was quite scared.
Got a bit shy every time the doctor circled back to birth plans. Jut went with whatever his girl wanted because in his mind, anything she thought was good was the correct option.
Most likely texted his mum 1st with like 800 texts.
Different to Max, he was VOCAL about it.
In the spun of 20 minutes, everyone in the world knew he was going to have his kid.
Texted the Ferrari GC, his mum, his brothers, the freacking pet shop.
Sweat so much, kept wiping his hands on the back of his pants.
I'm sorry but I feel he's the sort of man to faint during birth if he saw blood.
Also a bit cheesy, keeps talking to the baby like "Please come out fast, mon chouchou, I can't wait to meet you!"
Would get a bit scared of his partner if she screamed at him during peak pain, agrees with whatever she claims.
"Yes, mon amour, I'm at fault...yes yes I know, I'm never touching you again, I'm sorry."
Like Lewis, most likely took his dogs for calming effect and also because he was scared of leaving them behind all alone.
Gets so stressed about it he starts rambling in french and italian, looses himself.
But when the baby is finally out? Oh the RELIEF.
Would fall to his knees and give one very loud big sob that makes his partner laugh for a second.
Takes photos of absolutely every moment. The baby crying, the baby on his arms, the baby on his partner's chest, blurry photos of the family all together.
Posts the longest text on instagram ever. Rants about how wonderful his partner is, how beautiful she looked, how much he loves being a dad, etc...
PR has a field day reading it all.
Dresses the baby in a ferrari onesie the INSTANT he gets his hands freely on Mini Leclerc.
LANDO
Most stressed of them all, let's be honest.
Asks "Are you joking?" about 20 times.
Gets frustrated if his partner wants to do her hair, take a bath, do anything before heading to the hospital.
Because in his head it's like in the movies. If the water broke people must RUN to the hospital.
Still asks if she wants to pass by a fast food to grab something before they head to the hospital.
Sends some confusing, badly written text to his family and Zak like "BAYSF GONA BE BRONW!!"
Has to be reassured BY HIS PARTNER.
Very physical and clingy, suddenly wants to be glued to his woman at every step. Kissing her, caressing her hair, holding her hand.
Tries to be funny by yelling "I see the head!" anytime he has to help her do something.
Spends a ridiculous amount of time reading the paperwork to make sure he's not signing something bad.
Also the sort to faint if he sees blood.
Wakes up ashamed and goes back to his partner's side all red in the cheeks.
Finds it crazy she can't eat anything before birth. Tries to sneak her some snack she refuses for safety reasons.
Knew the basics, but listens with all the attention he must to the nurse explaining the details.
When the pain really starts to get bad he turns the colour of an egg.
Gets really quiet but extremely close, his partner can feel his nose exhaling from how physically near he is.
The moment the baby is born, he gets all teary eyed about the miracle of life.
Cries so much the nurses hand him a paper.
Is the first to hold the baby, but takes it right away to his partner and rants about how the babe looks like the mother.
Even if it's just a newborn.
Will make some out of context comment like "It's a bit gross, no?" And get eaten up by the medical team and his partner.
Buys her any food she wants right away. (Even sushi...he'll stand far away from it, but he'll do it.)
OSCAR
It's not that he's unphased, the stress makes him...silent.
His head is racing, asks his partner her pain levels, discomfort, etc..
Already know all the routes he has to take to the hospital, baby bag was ready, everything was set up to the detail.
Except him. He leaves the house unsheveled, on flip flops and forgets his own phone at some point.
"Keep calm," he says to his partner, whilst his heart is beating faster than his F1 McLaren car.
So stressed about logistics and his partner that he goes a bit deaf. People ask him stuff like "And how far along is the mother." And he just stares at them until he cocks his head closer and goes "Huh?"
Loves the gym ball they offer her, encourages all forms of exercise to help it move along faster.
Sends 1 person a text and it's his mum. "Labour began. All is well." then silences his phone.
A bit smart about it, whenever the nurse tried to explain him something he will add in medical details he learned online.
Tries to distract his partner of the pain by doing anything at all that seems to work. Tells stories, sings songs, rolls on the gym ball, etc...
When the pain peaks, he'll offer his hand for her to crush and try to keep her updated on it all. Doesn't want for her to be in the dark.
Tries 1 single joke he thought about for months and makes her laugh between tears.
Grimaces in pain along with her out of sympathy.
When the baby is born and he hears it cry, he gets super teary eyed. Maybe'll shed a tear, but mostly his face just gets super red and puffy from keeping the tears in.
Hold the baby like a glass doll and walks SUPER SLOW.
The most relaxed on the post birth, if he sees his partner is happy and comfy, he'll settle down.
Praise KING, stares into his partner with the biggest lovey dovey eyes just whispering "You were incredible." "You looked amazing doing it." "How did you do that?"
Insists on keeping wearing scrubs for like a day.
Sends a very ominous message to the McLaren gc like "Baby Born. Happy. Announce later."
#pairing: Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader
#summary; Where everyone thinks the 4 stars in his helmet are for his 4 championships, but they are more than wrong...
#word-count; 1.3K
#MASTERLIST
Nothing about triplets was easy.
Carrying triplets had been hell, they are 3 times the weight, 3 times the pain, 3 times the worry. Any slight worry, any different sensation, any tiny movement that feels too hard-- it's a call to the doctor.
It had been triple the surprise and planning as well, it's not the usual "We're having our first kid!" announcement. It was "We're rushing everything and having 3 at the same time!". 3 cribs, 3 bottles, 3 gender, 3...everything.
Birthing triplets was even worse, it's hard enough to push one baby out but three-- of course it had been a c-section, but even then it had been a fight. She was down for more than a week, the babies had to spend some time in the NICU. Triple the worry.
But to hold those 3 mostly identical faces close to her chest, nothing compared. The apocalypse could be starting outside she wouldn't have cared, all that mattered to her in that moment was the 3 beautiful lives she had birthed into existence.
The public had known very little at the time, the fear of complications or bad news kept Max from being super public about the facts. He had announced the pregnancy and birth, but when he arrived at the Miami GP-- little was known to the fans and media, not the gender, not the name and even less the insane knowledge that he was now the father of 3 kiddos.
So sitting down for that week's media day, Max new the questions were coming in hot. His eyes scanned the crowd of journalists, all looking anxiously down at their papers and wanting so damn bad to be the first ones to ask something.
"1st question to Max." This male journalist began, he held the microphone with some difficulty as he went trough his notes. "Congratulations, first of all."
"Thank you." He briefly added, just to not be seen as rude.
"I don't want to crowd you, or anything." Oh wow, some respectful journalist? What a rarity "Just wanted to ask the meaning of your helmet this weekend, you tweaked the design a bit, the colors, the usual 4 championship stars.--"
"They're not championship stars anymore." He interrupted the man.
The whole room seemed to eye him curiously, even Gabriel and Lando who were sitting next to him having to deal with this media pen.
The journalist seemed gagged for a moment. "T-They're not? What are they for now?"
The feeling of anticipation filled his heart, that moment you know will get clipped, reposted, commented on for days--possibly years. If he were a dog, he might have wagged his tail agressivly.
"There's 4 stars right, big one is for my wife, Y/N. Then there's a blue one for my son, Liam. A pink one for my daughter, Lilian. And another pink one for my other daughter, Lotte." His voice was calm as ever, nearly nonchalant. But the smile on his face was hard to avoid.
As expected and very much predicted, all the journalists were eyeing eachother, whispering. Gabi and Lando looked at him with a smirk, they hadn't known of these news either. Gabi even teased. "MV3 taken seriously, hein?"
Which made Max snort a bit before the journalist followed up.
"You mean to tell us you and your wife welcomed triplets this week?" He seemed super attentive now, they were searching for the highlight, the title.
Max nodded softly, a blush taking over his cheeks. "Yeah, me and my darling wife welcomed three, very healthy, kiddos this week." Simple, short, very Verstappen style.
The whole pen exploded at that, everyone wanted to know it all by now. Questions began to fly at him-- it was as if Lando and Gabriel weren't even there.
"Who came first?" A girl asked.
"Uhm, Lilian, then Lotte and then Liam." He replied.
Some other dude with a very professional look grabbed the microphone. "Do you plan on bringing them to the paddock soon?"
"That depends on Y/N, she's the mum she'll decide when is it good for the kids." He stood by that opinion, he knew mothers had an instinct for what was best. And if his wife never wanted her kids to show up at the paddock for privacy hell, he was her biggest defensor.
"One last question for Max and we'll move on." The team announced.
The last to speak was brazilian journalist Mariana Becker, famous for her long years in the business and very good questions. Max relaxed, he knew no akward personal question would come from her.
"Hi Max." She began, that calm composed voice of hers. "Before I ask for the strategy this weekend, just wanted to know how is Y/N, is she alright?"
He felt a warm feeling on his chest, nobody has asked that yet. Which seemed super unfair to him seeing she was the one who had to birth 3 kids this week.
He nodded calmly, looking the most in love he had, ever. "She's doing okay, a long recovery but she's doing good."
***
The weekend passed faster than he'd like to admit. His focus was heavily divided in the work he had to put in at Miami if he wanted the team to start looking up, and the constant updates his mother would send him from the hospital.
"L3 are doing good!" She'd text him, L3 meaning quite literally the triplets, whose name all started with L. "Liam pooped a lot, nurse said it means he's healthy. Lotte is gaining the right weight. Lilian will be out the NICU tomorrow."
It always made his heart ache a bit, he had a flight back immediately after Miami. Not monday morning, not sunday night, sunday evening right after the race. He had enough time to get on the podium if he could, change clothes, a last debrief, and packed away he'd go.
He also texted Y/N, albeit most the times she was either busy watching him on TV or too weak to type out everything she wanted. Saturday night he face called her from his hotel post qualy.
"Hi mijn lieveling, how are you?" His voice was sweet honey as he took in her image. She still looked down, birthing triplets did that to anyone. But the color had returned to her cheeks, her hair seemed recently washed and she was breathing way better.
"I'm fine, I was feeding Lotte like 5 minutes before you called." Her voice as well sounded less hoarse, but still breathy. "Amazing qualy you had." She smiled, and gods he missed her more than ever.
"I guess, but I'm not really bothered with it much now. I like to win, but I don't really want to win another championship, I think." He revealed, which made her frown.
Max as the most competitive lad he had ever known, saying he was fine with 4 championships was weird. "Why not?"
"If I won another championship we'd have to birth another kinder to add the stars."
She chuckled, a sound he was relieved to hear from her after the last few hard days. When he told her he wanted to change the stars in his helmet to mean family, she had looked so adorable and growing red.
"That'll have to wait, a long time." She replied amidst laughter "Plan that 5th championship in like 4 or 5 years time."
"Yeah some people have a kid, then wait 3 years, have another, wait another 3 years, then have a last one. We rushed it all, got to wait now 9 years for the next one." He kept joking, by now the triplet jokes had nearly run dry in the family. "Im coming back home soon, liefje, can't wait to hold you and my babies again."
When he crossed the line 4th, it felt good but not as good at it should. He had really wanted a podium to top it all out.
"Good job Max, P4, we're climbing." GP opened the radio, but even his engineer was waiting for the coming punchline.
"Works for me, P4, 4 stars in the helmet." He chuckled, as did Lambiase, but he continued. "This one's for Liam, Lilian and Lotte. And above all for Y/N."
#note; THANKS @clarenciago for helping me out with the ideaaa, god knows I was giggling writting this hehe. LET'S GO FOR THE MIAMI GP!!! Is this gonna have a pt2, I dont know, maybeeee, I like the vibe.
Also THANK YOU ALLLL we just got to 100 followers in like 2 months or something that was amazingggg!
Here's another ideaaaaΓ a! So reader is and engineer and secreat relastionship with our dear (my favourite) ALEX ALBON (Sorry Lily I love you!) So so she has like a bad feeling but since she arrived lately, and she isn't heard from the team a lot so back to the bad feeling. She tries to tell the team to check the car but nobody listen and then bam! (Yes a little angst but not like blood etc) Alex does an accident (it was just an inchident! Sorry I had to) and she is so worry and blame herself to not make the other listen to her so she rush to the hospital to Alex and the. You chose (please not that much Angst that Alex goes to a coma or die pls lol I couldn't read that I would cry)
πΫΆΰ§Cassandra. x Alex Albon
#pairing: Alex Albon x Fem!Reader
#summary; Alex's engineer girlfriend knew something was wrong, and yet no one believed her.
#word-count; 1.3K
#MASTERLIST!
It was a gut feeling, she doesn't know how to explain it.
Have you ever heard of people who say they felt a loved ones death before it happened? A strange super natural feeling that makes you paranoid. You wake up and begin dreading an event you have no idea what it will be, or when will it come for you.
Y/N was in that moment, her heart and soul were set on that chilly sentiment, and it was even worst seeing she wasn't just a wag, not just a pretty girl, she was her boyfriend's engineer for god's sake. Her feelings were based on data, not dreams. She had warned the team the moment she came trough the paddock.
"I have a bad feeling about the wheels," She commented on the first meeting. "They keep looking unstable, I don't like the look on them."
And what did they reply? "Wheels are fine, you're looking way too much into it."
That felt so ignorant, she wasn't saying these things to bother the mechanics, she wanted the upmost safety for Alex, and somehow she was getting pushed to the corner on her professional remark.
She repeated it later after qualy, same thing. "The wheels keep bouncing, can't we just check on it?"
"They're fine, we're focusing right now on fixing the front wing, 'kay?"
Once upon a time in the ancient city of Troy, there was a princess named Cassandra. She had prophetic visions that her city would be burned by the greeks if they drove a wooden horse in, she yelled and clawed yet no one listened to her. Why, in the end, any literate person knows what happened to poor Ilium. She felt like Princess Cassandra in that very moment, watching the greek wooden horse be brought in.
Just a bit before the race, when Alex was already sat inside his williams preparing for a long time of fight, she knelt right besides it with a troubled look.
"Are you okay, darling?" He asked, pushing up his visor to look at his girlfriend and engineer.
She pursed her lips, "Not really," She admitted "I've been telling the whole team about the wheels situation and they won't listen."
"Why?" He looked actually concerned, Albon himself had noticed some shifting but he guessed it would be fine.
"I don't know, they keep ignoring me...just, listen, if you feel like something's wrong pull up and I'll tell the team it's unsafe to drive, alright?" Her hand reached out to caress the little skin she could trough his visor, a bit of bare cheek.
He nodded barely, reaching out to grasp her hand. "Nothing's going to happen, okay? Just stay calm, and I'll talk to the team later about listening."
They shared a look, a particular one only two people in this very specific situation and relationship could. This wasn't your everyday's fear of getting robbed or cheated, it was the dread that maybe today your boyfriend could go out to work and get himself hurt, or killed. People died in motorsports often still, even if in Formula 1 it had been some time, it could happen.
She sat on her usual spot by the control station, a quick "Alex, can you hear me?" Answered by his usual "Loud and clear, darling."
Lap after lap though that feeling began to take over her mind, all she could think about, see, listen was his wheels. The way they still seemed unstable, the many laps remaining, all that stuff was messing with her head and making her go insane. Every couple of minutes, she'd chime in the radio and ask.
"Alex, is the balance okay?" And after some thoughtful silence, her boyfriend would reply.
"Yeah, feels okay."
But it didn't really. She couldn't muster how it could be. The more he tried to steer the car, the less it obeyed. And eventually around corner 5, that forsaken sharp corner a lot of drivers went careful on, conclusion came. Albon tried to break and do it carefully-- he'd be overtaken by Lawson, but he could always go get that position back later. The car didn't listen however, and just like she had imagined, one of the wheels came loose. It flew across the gravel and sent his williams spinning like a toy, it bumped, turned, and clashed hard against the barrier with a loud roar that made the public step back.
That old sensation of dread exploded within her, the bad event she had been waiting finally took place. Now all she felt was panic, and a deep sense of self-guilt. She should have warned them harder, screamed, made an engineer check the wheels, yet she had just accepted it as her madness.
"Alex, are you okay? Copy please." She spoke in a rush in his radio.
No response came.
"Alex, are you okay? Copy please."
The silence was so loud.
Medics rushed up to him, a red flag was thrown over the circuit. At first barely any news came forward, she watched on the screen as they collected her man-- he was limp, mostly. His head would loll to one side and the other eventually, it looked like someone was talking to him now.
"Where are they taking him?" Her shaky voice asked, to no one in particular, maybe just to who ever was closest to her. That happend to be James Vowles.
The man put a strong hand on her shoulder, he also looked pretty startled. "I imagine they'll send him straight to the hospital, local medics won't do the job." After a short silence where they just tracked Albon with their eyes as he got moved away to the ambulance, he offered "I'll drive you."
The drive was made up of her self loathing thoughts and sayings. "I knew the wheel was off.." She whispered to herself, to which James just seemed apologetic, he knew now he should have listened to her better.
***
Some broken ribs, a dislodged knee, some internal bleeding, that's what the doctor explained to her once Alex was out of the woods. It had taken one or two surgeries and a mighty amount of care to stabalise him, but nothing would be fatal if no complications arose.
She had wanted to kiss the damn doctor for taking such good care of her man. "Can I see him? Is he awake?" She asked, still in that funny engineer suit.
He looked over his shoulder, as if checking "Uhm, yeah sure. I think he's fine for a visitor."
Her feet dragged her to his bed faster than an f1 car, he was bandaged up, an IV connected to his wrist, he looked miserable her poor Alex, but very uch alive and on his way to recovery.
"Oh Alex" She exhaled, she hugged him carefully, afraid any miscalculation might jostle his wounds. "Fuck I told you to stop if it felt weird!"
He almost looked drunk, or sleepy. But he did grin at her-- even in that situation, he grinned. "I know...it felt okay though, that car's so shit I thought it was just some other problem."
"You idiot!" She exclaimed, "Nearly got yourself killed, you think that's funny? Do you??"
"No--! No, I don't" But he was giggling, he took a sharp inhale of fresh air before roaming her body "You were right, is that what you want to hear? And I'm sorry, and when I'm back on my feet I'll make the whole team bake you a cake to apologise for not having hear you."
She took some seconds to calm down, her hand rubbed her face which finally began to return to a healthy colour after being pale for so long. "You worried me, a lot."
"What else do you want me to say?" He asked, "I was an idiot, darling, and... I know I should have stopped, I pushed it. You warned me and I still did it. Next time--"
"There won't be a next time because next time you do this I'm breaking up with you and resigning." She interrupted him, clearly still upset. But it faded quick, her head came down and rested on his shoulder near his neck. "I love you, Alex, never ignore me again, you hear me?"
HERE'S ANOTHER IDEA! HI AGAIN BY THE WAY EHEHEH!Sooooo what if reader is a writer for romance books, so she has writer block, liek she had an idea for the book but don't know how to put it in words. Especially the spicy scenes so what if she ask her boyfriend, in this case maybe like Franco Colapinto (i swear there isn't enough fic about this cutie pie). So when he returns from a race reader be like so casually mention like "remove your clothes i need you to help test out so things for my book" and like, not like hardcore sex, but a little bit of BDSM (like the couple of the book she is writing are exploring sexual things), it would be fun like Franco just expecting dinner or cuddle in bed and then his girlfriend just say this straight to his face lmao
πΫΆΰ§Senorita Storyteller. x FC43
#pairing: Franco Colapinto x Reader
#summary; Franco's storyteller girlfriend needs some visual and physical inspiration... NSFW warning!
#word-count; 1.5K
#MASTERLIST
Creativity isn't born out of trees like money.
It is a gift most are born with, but loose with age. Making stories, drawing pictures, it begins to feel silly. Appears childish. Some individuals however adapt and grow with it instead of away.
Y/N though had grown towards it, drawn more and more into the world of arts, specially the one of writing books, telling stories, making up entertainment for those who'd read it.
Writing is the oldest form of joy humanity had, cavemen used to draw stories on the walls, the Greeks would orally pass down myths, and since the beginning of writing in the Mesopotamia people have used it for all sorts of tales: Heroes, villains, damsels and knights, from the high ground of Valyria to Camp Half Blood in Long Island.
So she considered herself lucky and honored to be a writer, to put into words feelings few could verbalize, imagining who'd be her new Hamlet.
However, as of late, her book really wasn't making bunches of progress. She was stuck in the sexy scene, the one the two main characters share a super intimate moment...but she didn't know how.
She stared at the words in the world app: As she approached her lips...
And then nothing, she hadn't found a way to continue the scene. She had searched as much as she could, but to write you had to live, and she had never been in that specific position. But hey, there's always a way.
"Mi vida!" Franco called out, putting his sports bag over at the ground, kicked off his shoes. "Where are you? Ah, there--"
"I need you to do something." She broke in, she had this devious look to her face.
No "glad you're back!", no "welcome back!" Straight up questioning. Seemed quite urgent.
"Lovely to see you as well." He joked, approaching and kising her cheek as a welcome "What do I owe the pleasure of doing today for my corazon?"
She flushed a second, embarrassment battling the need for content. "I'm writing my book, right?" He nodded, he knew all about her stories "And right now I'm on the part where they have intimate relations, more specifically... well, standing up sort of on the counter with her back against his chest."
He whistled "Sexy, and how can I help on that?"
"Well..." She trailed off, approaching her crazy handsome boyfriend and scratching a finger over his chest "I need you to help me imagine it, the scene has to be perfect and for that I have to live it."
Franco's smooth cheeks reddened at that, he wasn't a green boy-- he caught up pretty quickly at what she meant. "You want me... to do that to you? To fuck you?"
"I need to understand it!" She argued, stepping back more or less in the direction of their kitchen counter.
He didn't have to be told twice, did any man really? He rushed over and crashed into her with a lovesick expression. "Clothes on or off?"
"Does it matter?" She giggled, holding her balance by grabbing his biceps.
"Course it does! It's for your book." Oh gods he was going to use that stupid excuse for everything.
She couldn't help but try to not smile like a fool, they were so damn close by now. "Sort of clothes on, the dude has his pants down, and the girl...she has her shirt off but bra on." As she described the the scene she pictured, she took off her shirt, revealing her bare chest except for the white bra she kept on.
"Pants down, heh?" Franco confirmed, he let go of his belt which clattered to the floor, followed by his jeans and in a swift motion followed by his boxers.
She stood in front of that god good looking man, he looked so soft and yet so hungry. Cock hardening at the opportunity to try something new for the sake of good writing.
Before she could stare more though, he ironized it "Isn't the scene with the girl on her back? Cmon." His big hands spun her around and clasped her own panties down until they were just barely held by her knees. Y/N yelped, he wasn't even being aggressive just eager. "What now? Let's try to keep it as accurate as possible."
She had to stop a moment to just process it. "Then he kind of-- teases her a bunch, keeps pretending to go in and doesn't and she goes crazy."
Trough his shadow on the wall she could notice he nodded, holding her in place and gluing himself to her, his head on her shoulder as he whispered. "What a nice story you're writing." It made her shiver.
Trough her skin she could feel as he played with her, toyed with his cock near her entrance. Just like she had said--edging her, pretending the tip was going further in and then pulling at the last second. It made her whine a couple of times, her body would prepare and then ache. At first it was slow, horribly so.
"N-Not so long, Franco, h-he doesn't take so long." She stuttered, tired of having to wait.
He smirked, she couldn't see it but she knew the devil she harbored inside her home. "Can't I have my own creative remarks?"
She bit her lip, and just as she was about to keep begging him to go faster she felt his whole dick just slide inside her all at once. She gasped at the unexpected feeling. It was warm, slimey but so strangely good all at once. Sex is something you can only really understand when you do it, might seem disgusting from the outside but it does feel amazing. That's just how biology work.
"Fuck, Franco.." She exhaled, he fell into a nice steady rythm at first.
Her brain began to work in how it felt, this certain position. She missed looking at his face, into his puppy brown eyes, how he couldn't keep them open when he was in ecstasy. Staring at the wall was boring, but also strangely curious. She never knew his next move, couldn't see if his hand rose in the air to slap her ass or when he'd pull out. It added a sort of mystery she rather liked.
For the first minutes it was just pillow talk, Franco'd tease her so much. "And what does he say to the girl, hm?" He was already getting kinda sweaty-- or maybe he already had been from the prior workout, hard to tell.
"They're coworkers-- and like" She hissed "He grabs her outside the office to sort of...mark territory?"
"Hm...I'll be buying that book." He hummed low.
When he picked up the pace it's like her whole stomach, legs and arms could feel it. It's almost like a sweet pain, you feel it coming and get desperate for it. What's it? Why, let's not bore ourselves with pretty terms, an orgasm it is! It's worst than drugs, makes you say and do things you never thought you would. Her hands held tight to the marble counter and moaned louder and louder, she also briefly thought about how unpractical it was to do it in the kitchen standing up, things would be a mess and she kept thinking she'd fall.
There wasn't much dialogue as they both worked on satisfying themselves, apart from Franco's quick spanish commentaries like "Puta madre, esto se ve re bien!β or "Ese culo desde este Γ‘nguloβ¦ wow.β. She herself couldn't say much of a thing besides his name over and over again.
It comes when you least expect it, the peak. Her brain blanked out and they both stopped their motion when they came, sort of on timing as well. She gasped-- her muscles contracting and that crazy hot and insane feeling washing over her. It made her moan quite louder, she did hope no one heard that. As for Franco, oh she did wish she could have seen his face, he whimpered, a masculine sound but still a whimper. His hands held her in place for quite the long time before both of them let go, he stumbled out and neither spoke for about a whole minute, just gasped and recovered.
Until Franco smirked. "You are a freaking godess, do you know that?" He leaped out and caught her in his arms, holding her close and kissing her cheek.
She lolled closer to him giggling. "You'll make me go crazy one day. You will!" When he let her go, she found a way to wash herself quickly, pull a new pair of pants and get back on her computer right away.
Franco leaned over the doorframe, arms crossed and looking jokingly stern. "Is my dear Beatrice satisfied?" Oh wow, referecing Shakespear.
Without taking her eyes off the screen, she nodded "Very much, lovely Benedict."
And so, she found her words: As she approached her lips, crazy moments were to follow, Dereck he let go of his belt which clattered to the floor, followed by his jeans and in a swift motion followed by his boxers...
#pairing: John Marston x Fem!Reader
#summary; What if Arthur's story with Eliza and Isaac had been, instead, John Marston's story...
#word-count; 4.5K
#MASTERLIST!
You know when your parents tell you to do anything-- but have a baby. As in, do drugs, break girls hearts, fail tests, kill the godamn president but don't have a baby before you can take care of it.
It's a lot of responsibility, a baby needs care, needs love, needs money above all. The human is born good but is corrupted by his environment, said Rousseau once, a child absorbs whatever it sees, mainly its parents. If the parents are clean and very organized, so will the baby be. If they are alcoholics or closely linked to its industry, so will the baby. Why, if the parents are outlaws, more likely the baby will a well.
One who knew this well was Hosea. He had kept his hands clean of Bessie for much of his life, arguing "Bringing a child into this world we live in is foul.", and so he passed on the philosophy to the younger crowd of the gang.
Specially John.
For some reason unknown to Marston himself, Mr. Matthews had always been a bit more strict on that rule with him than any other. Whenever he began flirting with a highborn lady the older man would slide in and say some very odd stuff to ride her away. If he tried to sit closer to a lady in the train suddenly Hosea would need to sit right in between them. In camp, he constantly mocked the young John and made sure none of the young girls were interested in him in the slighest.
Yet that night, the old fool wasn't there, couldn't stop John of his youngest and reckless attitude.
"Yer one pretty thing." He had found Y/N outside by the meadow the obnoxiously loud saloon.
Her cheeks had burned red, they had both called each other's attention all night. He had found her so elegant for a lady in the country side, her hair up in a careful updo that clearly took her time in the morning. She smelled like flowers (which ones, John couldn't tell, he could only name roses and lilies, and knew not their precise smell.) Her dress was so well ironed it looked impossible to be seen more neat. A person's personal hygiene and choices of style can tell you a lot about them, someone who takes such good care of themselves really values these sort of tiny details.
Whilst John was a man who noticed that sort of stuff, he wasn't one to hear his own advice, and more than once Arthur and Dutch had questioned why did girls like him.
He smelled like horse shit and gun powder, clothes he didn't remember the last time he threw at Miss Grimshaw to wash. All ruffled up and stained with things he didn't even want to name. His hair was greasy, overdue a cut and as unwashed as his clothes. Only noticeable good stuff he had on him was his rather expansive hat, metal laced and actual good animal skin.
But the thing about ugly men is that they are usually the most humble and the funniest. There's also something about dangerous men that attracts girls, it's been a thing for years. Roman girls loved the gladiators, medieval ladies loved the knights, and cowgirls loved the outlaws.
"Why, you've been eyein' me all night, sir." She replied, calling him sir even though let's be honest he couldn't have been over the age of 20.
He agreed with a tip of his hat. "'Cause you look like a muse, miss. So tidy up, so clean, are you some highborn?"
Her chuckle was a melody. "Far from it, I'm just some saloon worker. And you?"
His chest puffed up, so cocky. "I'm John Marston." He announced, waiting for some sort of reaction.
Which...she didn't give, she just smiled slightly and leaned in. "Well, glad to meet you, John Marston. I'm Y/N."
"Ya better remember my name." He said it like a secret, which gauged her an amused look.
"Oh really? Why is that?"
"'Cause it's the name you'll be moanin' tonight." Basic pick up line he had gotten from some sort of mean cowboy earlier.
Couldn't have ended any other way, when the sun rose they were trapped in each other. His scrawny form had her pressed against his bare chest, that updo ruined when he so passionately tore it earlier. Her dress forgotten somewhere on the dusty ground. It was a shot in the dark really, at that time unprotected sex could end up in 3 distinct ways:
-An STD
-Ruining the lady's reputation
-Pregnancy
If lucky enough, it could stay hidden under the sheets forever more. By morning, John didn't think about anything really. Bought her breakfast, kissed her forehead, and rode out to meet up with the boys at camp. Just smirking when Dutch asked "Where was you all night, boy?"
Like the good idiot he had always been, he didn't go back to the saloon much afterwards, and when he did he just winked at Y/N, shared a quiet chuckle, and a month later he was gone. Had to ride out west with the gang to escape the law further, like they do every couple of weeks, can't really stay in one place.
At the time though they went around in circles mostly, not daring to ride south. So around 8 months later, he rode back into that same tiny village, sort of place with just enough buildings to survive: A bank, two markets, a stable, a mail, etc.
Nobody had known about the saloon story, gods the gang would murder him, Hosea would speech so long about the responsibilities a young man should have, about honor, about safety, stuff John was never in the mood to hear. But his heart was called to the building, to her most specifically. He had traveled from Washington to New Mexico and not found a perfection like her.
Striding up trough the doors, he leaned his feet up in a table and waited for this old lady to walk up to him.
"What you want, boy?" She asked, she was probably older than Grimshaw.
"Where's Y/N? She used to work here last time I was around." He tried to compose himself a little, try not to look the rake too much.
Her eyebrows did this nasty turn and she looked like the devil. "So you're the bastard..."
"Pardon me?" The shock he had was so big he could barely talk for a moment.
"Ya want to see yer darlin' Y/N?" She sounded like she was mocking her. After he nodded, a bit more rouge now, she waved her hand aggressively for him to follow her.
She walked up to the back rooms where the staff slept most days, they stopped in front of the same room John remembered being 8 months before. Upon knocking, that familiar voice he knew replied "Yeah, come in?"
Inside, there she was, and there's no pretty description this time just the total obvious that shocked him: The big round belly she was supporting, clearly pregnant. They were both quite surprised by seeing each other, he exhaled.
"Oh...oh my lord." So many shit was going trough his mind, and the first one was just : That can't be mine!
Her soft eyes fell on him and didn't even widen, he thought she'd be angry or super pissed, but the exhaustion of bearing a child must have caught to her because she just offered him a small polite smile. "Oh.. hi John."
"I'll leave you two, and Y/N." That older woman called out. "Make him pay."
There was that awkard moment of silence where they couldn't look at each other, before John spoke up first.
"Uhm...y-you're pregnant?" Stupid question, gosd he regreted it right away.
"As you can see." She joked, and he actually chuckled.
"Is.." He hesitated, didn't want to be an ass but his ego was speaking loud. "Is it mine?"
She looked sad, of course she did, no pregnant girl wanted to hear from her baby daddy that he was questioning her. Made her sound like a common whore. She sighed deeply, lowered herself into her hay bed with a groan of someone who could barely move with that huge melon of a stomach in the way.
"I guess" She replied quite tiredly "I only ever slept with ya, was a moment of weakness of mine, risked it all out of curiosity, got myself in trouble."
His cheeks burned deep, the reality began setting. She didn't seem the type to lie about this stuff, and he knew he was the type to be reckless.
"I.. I'm sorry." Was all he could say at first, then completed "What do you want from me? You know, Imma take responsibility."
"I don't know what I want from you, honestly." She admitted "I know who you are, you ain't the type to lay low now, marry me and then spend your days being a ranch boy." She joked slightly, "I ain't ruined, just so you know, I ain't no lady. I'm a saloon girl, sure it hurt my job a bit but-- I'm not the first girl to get pregnant by a traveller."
She looked down then, at her feet or at her belly he couldn't really tell before continuing. "I guess I want money, not a lot, just enough. And..." She trailed off.
John nodded quickly, not even letting her finish, he stuffed his hand on his pocket and took out any dollars he had, shoving it further into her hands. "Here, uhm... I don't know how much is it, but I'm sure it' somethin' over 10 dollars."
She held his hands for a moment with a tight smile. "Thanks John, it's very kind of you."
"Kind? Its the minimum, that'll buy you a crib... I think." He rubbed his nape nervously.
Gently, she made him sit next to her in the bed. He fell back hard and avoided eye contact, his mind not ready to face that baby inside of her growing everyday was hers.
"How much time you stayin' around?"
He bit his lip, he never knew that. "Couple of weeks most likely. Less if we do somethin' crazy or the Pinkertons figure it out quick."
"Cause I guess I'd like to have you near when the baby comes."
The admission felt intimate, even more than when he had himself inside of her months ago. Must be terrifying, he thought to himself, being near labour, so much danger lied ahead. Infections, blood, stillborn, anything could happen. And besides money to sustain herself, all she wanted was his presence near when the time came. Hell, he could at least offer her that.
"I'll be here." He insisted, taking her hand in both of his. "I promise."
***
"Are you insane?!" Of course Hosea would have this sort of reaction. "You realise how mediocre this is? John? Are you listening to me, boy?!"
"Yes, yes I am." John replied, everyone was staring at him hard, damn.
"You don't look like you are, because you never listen to me!" He hissed so hard the old fella actually began coughing, he had never seen Hosea so upset.
"I don't understand, sure it's bad, but it ain't put the gang in danger." He argued, which just seemed to make the older figure more pissed off.
"This ain't about us, Marston, ain't about you! Is that all that goes trough your head? Do you not think about others? You put a baby in that poor girl's belly you end her life! She ain't never gonna find a husband, she could die giving birth. Do you ever use your damn brain to think?!"
Silence followed, no one even knew what to say, and Hosea needed time to breathe before following in a quieter tone.
"Did you offer her money, at the very least?"
"All I had in my pocket." John said in pride, as if that would make everyone back off from him.
"That ain't enough, you bastard! Whatever you had was way too little, couldn't pay for a damn nursemaid." He argued, looking around the group and announcing "As a punishment for what Marston did, and so you all learn that the gang pays for what one does, everyone will offer at least 5 dollars to the girl." Everyone groaned loudly. "Well, that's what happens folk, blame yer good friend, John."
Hosea walked off rubbing both his eyeballs with the palm of his hand, whispering something bout John being a half wit, followed by Dutch trying to calm him down.
John sat sulking in the shadow, everyone that passed by gave him an ugly look that told him they were super annoyed and dissapointed. When Arthur strode up to him, he rolled his eyes.
"Whatever life lesson you're comin' to give me, I heard it all, alright?"
Arthur scowled "Then you're gonna hear another one, because it doesn't look like you ever learn." He found his way besides John heavily and scratched his cheek "Listen, Hosea was real mad at you earlier so I'm pretty sure you didn't listen to him. We never do when we want to justify ourselves, so I came here to talk to you like a man so maybe you'd give me an ear."
John pouted further, for a 19yo boy he looked 12 all of a sudden. "I know I did her wrong, Arthur, it's not like I can go back in time and undo what I did. I gave her money, we're giving her more, and...she wanted other stuff that Imma make sure she gets, so why's everyone still mad?"
"When a dog poops in your bed, Johnny, is the problem done when you clean it up or do you scream at the dog to make sure he never does it again?"
The metaphor didn't quite click because he just answered "I scream at it to not do it again."
"Yeah, that's what Hosea was doing. If we let you go quietly, you'll do it again because you think it's alright to do it." Arthur explained, leaning further into the shade. "Listen, we don't want you out, you're my brother today and until the day I die, but you got a duty to the girl as well now."
"So what do I do?" Asking it to Arthur felt the most logical course of action, if someone could tell him-- it was him.
"You're gonna stay with her, comfort her like she's the muse of your entire life, stay by her side. We'll ride out when we're sure her and the baby are safe, and then every week-- every godamn week, you're gonna send her a letter with money. Only exceptions is if you're dead." He posed it like a law, he sounded quite stern about it.
John nodded stiffly, seemed fair. "I guess... I'm afraid." He admitted, afraid of the future, of killing that poor beautiful girl, of ruining both their lives because he wanted her close.
"You ain't gotta be." Arthur replied. "Cause we'll be here for you, always."
***
Every single day, like clock work, there was John.
At first he was super shy, tip toeing his way around her and her big belly, but with time he found himself drawn closer to her. They'd lay down at the end of the evening, when the sun dipped low and looked orange, and giggle at the names they were thinking of.
"How about...Archibald." He offered one day, a clear jest.
She giggled-- it was adorable, because when she did her belly would kinda jiggle and it looked funny. "Where the hell did you hear that one?"
"You never like any name I offer these days!"
"You've offered so far: Archibald, Dante, Godfrey, Gaylord, Dutch and-- what was it with X?"
"Xavier." He remined her, impressed by her memory.
"Yeup, Xavier. What sort of names are those? Besides, might be a girl." She reminded him, it made his eyes lower a little... a girl, he never quite pictured himself as a girl dad.
"A girl.. let me think...Gertrude?"
Once again, she laughed at his ridiculous proposals, when she calmed down though she did look a bit more serious. "Let's real think now, John, I don't want to birth a kid and have no name for 'em."
He passed his arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer to his chest then. "A girl... I don't know many girl names. Do you?"
"I like... Juliet, from that story, Romeo and Juliet." She mentioned, pointing at a book far in her table.
"What's it about?" He asked, ever so...well, illiterate, Hosea was still trying to make him read small books.
She smiled a bit, he had found she was a big book girl "It's about these two lovers, they are from families who hate one another, so they decide to run away together. But to do that, Juliet pretends to be dead so no one will follow them, but Romeo thinks she really did pass away and kills himself. When she finds out, she drinks poison to follow him."
"What the fuck is that story?" John hollered "You wanna name our daughter after a maniac who kills herself over love?"
"It's romantic!" She argued, her hand passing trough her belly "It's beautiful, besides you got any better idea?"
"Any idea is better than that! I don't know... Hattie? I like Hattie! Or Johanna, sounds like John!"
"But they don't mean anything, ain't got a story about it. But...hey, John isn't a bad idea for a boy. Name him after you." She proposed, looking down as if seeing trough the skin and into the baby.
However the idea was...unverving for him. He wasn't a good man, didn't want to pass his bad ways into a child. Like Hobbes, he belived humans are inherently bad or selfish, and he was born it. He could imagine that toddler boy growing up being confused with his outlaw daddy, whilst John Jr might just be a nice kiddo who wants a job.
He shook his head "Not John, sounds wrong, and it's stupid."
"But something closer to it, has the meaning... could be Jack."
That sounded better, Jack Marston or Juliette Marton, he could hear it, picture it. He knelt up in bed with a sigh "That rings nicely, Jack..." He leaned down to press a kiss to her belly button, or close to it, he looked up at her then-- at the way she looked healthy, which was more than he could ask for at the moment. "I'll be here, darling, to welcome Jack...or Juliette."
And albeit doubt crept at the corner of her eyes, she responded "I know you will."
***
It had been way too late at night when someone shook him awake. "John! John, wake up you bastard!"
"Wha--What is it, Hosea?" He mumbled, sitting up lazily. What the hell could he want at this hour?
The older man pulled him up with surprising strength, everyday he could be surprised on how healthy and damn intimidating Hosea still was. "Girl from the saloon came down here, said your darling's gone into labour. So we're gonna get our ass in our horses and ride there."
There's a surge of panic that thuds his chest right then, because this is the moment he had been ignoring in the midst of bliss. They had just been laughing, joking, once or twice she'd have trouble with the weight or having to use the chamberpot a lot, but whatever peaceful life they had lived the past month had completely made him forget that it'll end today one way or another.
Hosea slapped his back then, seeing John was frozen with the thoughts that paralyzed him. "You walk boy!"
"Yessir!" He stuttered, finding his footing and rushing over to his horse, as did the older man. "You're coming?"
"Course I am, for all you know you'd let that baby choke on its own umbilical chord. You need a man who knows what to do." Wow insulting much, Hosea really had been pissed off.
With a quick 'heya!' both were off into the dark, it was mad hard to ride without nearly any visibility and he thought he'd trip many times, but somehow someway they found their way to the front of the lit off saloon. Even from outside, John could hear the low groans coming from his darling, it made his stomach churn, but his feet didn't freeze now-- he strode up and opened the door quietly, Hosea following him.
Now, he had never seen a woman give birth, so his reaction might have been a bit over the top. She was standing and pacing the room slowly, three women surrounded her-- the older saloon staff whom he had met earlier, the nursewife he guessed, and some other adult woman who looked about Hosea' age. His darling was sweating down her nightgown and soaking it, tears ran down her eyes as fear consumed her-- pain did that to you, made you question everything. What you were, is and what you will be. There were buckets of warm water near, sponges, some herbs, not much else. Medieval people had more medicine than this.
He was stunned into silence, he wanted to turn around and hide, puke maybe since the smell didn't really help; it was metallic from blood and very humid. But when her eyes caught his, her gaze turned from cloudy to slightly more lucid.
"John" She croaked, and damn did that break him.
He walked over to him, barefoot he only noticed now, and took her arm "Yeah..it's me, gods.. you look terrible."
"Why thank you, I feel horrible." She ironized it, but couldn't keep the joke up when her whole body tensed. She whimpered sadly and turned to look at the nurse maid "I-I really want to push, I really do."
The crone lady flapped her hand at him "Then he has to go. This ain't no place for a man."
John frowned, he had come all this way just for this, to help her, to be by her side. "Ain't no way, I--"
"I-It's okay, John...it'll be quick, I hope.." She replied, he couldn't understand her. Why wouldn't he want him there? Shame? Embarassment? Whatever reasoning she had, it was one who came from a place of pain, but if it made her feel safer-- hell, that was the comfort he could offer her.
He held her close for a moment, kissed her lips, "And whatever you need, you call for me, I'm just outside."
The older woman shooed him out with a firm wave of her hand, and John let himself be guided away, heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. Hosea clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder and steered him down the narrow wooden stairs toward the main room of the saloon.
Downstairs, the place was mostly empty at this ungodly hour, the lanterns burned low. John dropped into a chair at the nearest table, face hidden in his hands. Hosea sat across from him, arms crossed, looking far too calm for the situation.
Minutes dragged and it was damn insufferable. He kept rubbing his palms on his thighs, trying to wipe away the sweat that wouldnβt stop coming.
Hosea finally broke the silence, voice low and rough. βBreathe slow, boy. You sound like a pipe."
βI can't!β John hissed, his heart was loud and it felt like he was going mad βWhat if somethinβ goes wrong? What if she-- bleeds out or somethin'?β
βSheβs young. Healthy. Women been doinβ this since the dawn of time,β Hosea cut in, though his tone wasnβt as dismissive as usual. He leaned back, taking that fatherly tone βThere's nothinβ you can do up there but get in the way. So relax."
John nodded numbly, but his leg bounced under the table anyway. He thought about the way her hand had felt in his earlier that eveningβwarm, a little clammy from the strain. He thought about the ridiculous names theyβd laughed over, about the way her belly moved when the baby kicked. Jack or Juliette-- hell at this point the baby could be a damn fish and he'd just be happy to see it born.
Upstairs, the sounds grew sharper. Her voice rose: short, pained cries, so pitiful and hurtful. Every once in a while she'd say actual things. "I can't do this!" or a quick "Help!", and he wanted to rush up there and hold her close and not let anyone hurt her no more-- but then again Hosea had a point, so stupid he was he'd probably do more harm than good.
Time blurred. The groans turned into labored breathing, then desperate whimpers. He could hear the womenβs voices grow urgent, instructing, encouraging. One of them was counting. Another was telling her to push. Johnβs stomach churned so badly he thought he might actually be sick right there on the saloon floor.
Then, after what felt like an eternity of agony echoing from above, there was a final, raw cry from herβlong and breakingβand right after it, the unmistakable sound of a newbornβs wail.
It was loud, so amazingly loud. A baby born healthy as a calf. John's eyes rose to meet Hosea's, he was probably looking like a ghost because the older man snorted.
"Someone's up there waitin' to meet ya, boy."
His sould carried him first than his feet, and in less than a second he found himself back in that small bedroom. The smell was blood hit him hard, and how wet the air felt. But his quick disgust was cut when the nursemaid approached him with a bundle in her arms.
"It's a boy, Mr Marston."
He held that newborn like it was 40 bars of gold. He was bloodied, weird shaped and so ever loud and fitful, but in that moment he was the center of his universe. The reason all this outlaw life should stop, even if for that small fraction of time. Jack was nothing but a healthy kid, he was kicking and screaming, he was red and cute (or, well, John thought he was, newborns aren't often very adorable.)
"Heyo kiddo." He whispered, a fat tear threatening to spill from his eyes.
His moment was cut when Y/Ns weak voice reached his ear.
"Can I see him?"
He found that infuriating, they hadn't yet given her their son to see and hold? She had just birthed that huge child for hours, sun was nearly rising. He rushed to kneel besides her and place the bundle of joy in her chest, however she could hold him.
"See?" He chuckled, voice choked up with tears. "He's beautiful, and everything went good."
To which she lolled her head back into his arms. "He is...he's marvelous, our Jack."
And albeit the moment was probably the best moment he lived since he joined the gang, and albeit he knew children could die in days, and albeit he saw how much recovery his darling needed. His duty with them was temporarily over.
And albeit it was against his will, he rode out the town at dawn with the others. Leaving behind the biggest question of all: Could his life be different one day?
#note; Look at me writting about RDR2. If this flops Im gonna cry It's so fun to write it I love it, specially about my supreme goat John. MY REQUESTS ARE OPENNN request me more RDR2 and RDR1 stuffffff
Might do a pt2 where yk.....they meet the same fate as Eliza and Isaac teehee
I love your writing! Could you do like Kimi Antonelli teaching his girlfriend Italian on the beach fluff or smth similar please? Ty
πΫΆΰ§Cara Mia. x KA12
#pairing: Kimi Antonelli x Reader
#summary; In a warm summer afternoon, Kimi decides being an F1 driver is too boring and decides to become a teacher to his girlfriend.
#word-count; 0.9K
#MASTERLIST
"Buongiorno" Kimi insisted once more, his feet deep in warm sand and the sun beating down his hair just right so he looked like a damn romantic painting.
His girlfriend chuckled nervously, trying to repeat after him "Buengyourno."
"Not how you say it!" He hissed, he wasn't exactly the most patient teacher, you see? Many videos on the internet could prove it. For such a youngling still learning about so many things in Formula 1, he was inpatient.
"At least I know what it means! Means hi or good morning." She argued, in her head knowing what it meant meant much more than saying it the right way.
"Cara, if you say it like that in Italy people will know you're not italian." His hand made some sort of angry italian signal she did not want to find out what it meant.
After a silent frown, she counter argued "I am not italian."
"But they can't know that!" he insisted, passing a nervous hand trough his light locks.
"Why not?"
"Because in Italy if they know you aren't a local they'll rise the prices and make fun of you." He leaned down on her and his lips found her forehead, a little protective kiss "And no one's gonna make fun of my girlfriend. So come on, again: Buongiorno."
"Buen--"
"Buon! Buoooon" He dramatically dragged out the 'o'
She laughed at him, "You sound like a whale. BuONNgiourno."
"Not so much at the end, Buongiorno." He explained.
With a final decisive sigh, she tried out "Buongiorno."
Kimi's eyes lit up like a satisfied puppy, "Yes! That's it! You said it perfectly." He got all handsy then, body leaning down on hers and rubbing even in the warm beach sun. Their skins rubbing against each other.
She hugged him back, so clingy he was when he was happy, just like when he won a race and would reach for her in any state he was-- tired, sweaty, champagne covered or bleeding.
When they parted, she contineud "Alright, next word!"
"Okay, so: Io sono." He said it out real slow so she'd hear it right away.
The mechanics in her brain turned, "It means 'I am', right?" She confirmed.
"Yeah, it's-aah to present yourself." For one who had been so insistent she learn how to speak properly to not be mistaken for an outsider, he sounded like Mario saying its-aah.
"Eyo--" He cut her off right away.
"You aren't opening your mouth enough, you're making an 'e' it's an 'i', like in yo-yo. Io sono." Quite the explenation on phonetics.
"Io" She began, doing it slowly so he could nod her that it was right, and the completed. "Sono"
He clapped his hands together, shining that way too bright smile. "That's it! Eh amore you're doing great, not so bad."
"When you're patient with me, I do get it." She ironized, he rolled his eyes at the slight irony. "Okay, what now? Buongiorno Io sono...?"
"La ragazza de Kimi." He announced.
Her eyebrows tensed at that, a suspicious tone in her gaze. "I am... Kimi's girlfriend?"
He nodded so fast he looked like a damn chihuahua. "Yes!"
Her laugh was so loud it scared some nearby birds who flew away. "Why would I say that to someone randomly?"
"Why wouldn't you?" He questioned, sounding quite genuine. "You go up to someone say you're my girlfriend they'll respect you."
"Wowww confidence is key, they always said."
"Come on" He turned back into teacher mode. "Io sono la ragazza de Kimi."
She hid her face in her hands for a moment. "I could be swimming right now or tanning but--"
"You're here learning italian." He completed it for her. "Io sono la ragazza de Kimi" He insited once more.
She admired him with lovey dovey eyes, he looked adorable like that wanting to hear her announce it in her language. Alas, she gave in. "Io sono la ragazza de Kimi."
She didn't even have time to look straight into his eyes, he threw his big muscular body on top of her, his shirtless torso rubbing against her belly exposed by the bikini she was wearing. He buried his nose in her neck, kissing it until she was laughing so much she couldn't breathe.
"Kimi! Kimi stop!" She gasped, struggling under him with a smile.
"In italiano!" He yelled at her, before continuing to tickle her deep into the sand, hips grinding against hers.
For a second she was so deep into ecstasy she couldn't think, "Stopp!" She whined, but he wouldn't stop. Her mind went trough all her vocabulary, everything he had taught her until now. "Uhm...Kimi f-fermata! Fermati! FERMATI!" She screamed, he finally got off of her and rested on his knees in the sand.
She took some time to recover, breathing deeply. "You're hyperactive or something.
"No, no" He said with a deep italian accident. "I just love you too much, darling."
She smirked, her hands falling to rest on his thighs. "In italiano." She murmured.
His smile had never been bigger right then, his head lolled back to be graced by the sun like Apollo himself. He lay down on her once again, calmer now, head on her chest. "Ti amo troppo, cara mia."
Hiii! Could I request a George fic with like a drivers little sister trope. Like him and maxs sister get along and the media have a frenzy saying we git Russtappen but not the one we expected. And max is really overprotective. Any drivers little sister works tho, tyyy
πΫΆΰ§Keep it in the family. x GR63
#pairing: George Russel x Verstappen!Fem!Reader
#summary; Hate a Verstappen, love the other...
#word-count; 830 + posts
#MASTERLIST!
liked by maxverstappen1, georgerussel63, and 1,953,257 others
redbullracing: Good results and good company this weekend ποΈ
user1: Max and his sister awnnnn
user2: SHE'S SO PRETTYYYY
user3: RIGHT! She could be a WAG
user4: She'd wipe them omg
user5: we need more of her!!
maxverstappen1: So good to have you, @/yourusername
georgerussel63: Good indeed
user6: LMAO caught in 4K
user7: GEORGE
user8: Answering her brother like that is mad disrespect
user9: They look so much alike it's crazy
user10: COME BACK ANYTIME MAMA
liked by 52,394 others
f1gossipallday: George Russel and Y/N caught in the same beach in Zandvoort this weekend π Is romance brewing or just coincidence?
user11: Not even tryna be subtle
user12: At Max's hometown Im crine
user13: You just know bro is pulling his hair out rn
user14: Are they together???
user15: Most likely just a coincidence, all the drivers go to that beach.
user16: imagine they are ACTUALLY together
user17: Rustappen turning real is so iconic
user18: the concept of Rustappen being about George and Y/N and not Max and George
liked by 17,248 others
mercedesstalker: George posted this on his story, ain't that lady stuff Y/Ns? π
user19: the hairdryer is the same one she used on her vid yesterday!!!
user20: I noticed it too!
user21: which vid??
user22: She posted a video yesterday doing her hair for the GP in a hotel bathroom.
user23: Also the pink shoes, didn't she wear them today at the paddock?
user24: it was!!!!
user25: y'all are crazy lmao, it's just some girl products
user26: this isn't the first clue tho
user27: Yeahh they're trying to be sneaky but ain't really
user28: juicyyyyy
user29: He could AT LEAST not be so obvious about it lol
liked by yourusername, and 203,589 others
f1gossipallday: Y/N caught by paps on a yatch with none other....than GEORGE RUSSEL HIMSELF!
user30: EYO does that confirm the rumours??
user31: Rustappen is real guys I swear π
user32: Girllll you abusing yo brother's gentleness
user33: does Y/N not know the crazy beef Max has with him lmao
user34: She ain't even pretty y'all are overreacting so bad
user35: someone's jealous looool
user34: jealous of what? depending on men to be famous?
user35: of being ugly and poor
user36: She looks so hapyyyy she's so cute
user37: Hope she comes back to the paddock sooon
user38: As a WAG!!
liked by georgerussel63, landonorris, and 1,864,274 others
mercedesamgf1: In the wrong garage, @/yourusername?π€£
user39: Longest soft launching in history
maxverstappen1: Get out of there, come back to the right side.
georgerussel63: You mean the dark side?
user40: LMAO
user41: Max catching strays as always ππ
yourusername: Now now boys, calm down
user42: they can't girl you too pretty
landonorris: If you look really hard, I'm in the back
user43: people wanting Rustappen but Vernando would heal me
user44: I was thinking about thattt
user45: imagine if she shows up on the transmission with "George Russel's partner"
user46: NAWWW MAX BOUTA PULL UP TO THE BOXES
liked by georgerussel63, yourusername, and 1,114,748 others
maxverstappen1: Spending time with the little sis, away from the bad influences.
user47: The shadeeeee
user48: hella petty
user49: "bad influences" YOU MEAN RUSSEL
georgerussel63: Bring her back soon.
user50: Mate I think you didn't read the caption...
user51: It's you, you're the bad influence
user52: Random but her dress is amazing <3
user53: Real, everyone so focused on the drama ain't focusing enough on how adorable Y/N looks
user54: RUSTAPPEN IS EVERYWHERE
user55: hoping for a real announcement soooon
user56: MAX TELL US HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT YOUR SISTER DATING YOUR ENEMY
user57: someone's getting overprotectiveeee
liked bye 47,390 others
f1gossipallday: Max's reaction to the journalist asking "Is your sister and George Russel in some sort of relationship?"
user58: the face of doom and despair
user59: Charles in the back lowkey just serving ass
user60: bro can't deny it anymore π
user61: Wait, was it confirmed??
user62: Not really, but ykkkk
user63: it's so obvious I could die
user64: what a dumb question, ask about the race, no one wants to know about this
user65: Oh I do, I really do
user66: Was she in the race this weekend??
user68: SHE WASS SHE LOOKED SO PRETTY
user69: he's looking so disappointed it's hilarious
user70: Bro is already planning out the big brother speech for when he gets home
liked by landonorris, yourusername, and 2,645,183 others
georgerussel63: Rustappen, the good one ;).
user71: CRAZY
user72: Its realllllll I knew it!
user73: OMG RUSTAPPEN IS TRUE
user74: Y'all look THE CUTEST
user75: Verstappen-Russel fam starting πππ
maxverstappen1: Congratulations
user76: Piastri ahh answer
user77: "Hurt my sister and I'll crash you"
user78: Awn Maxie ππ
yourusername: You're still my N1 ;)
user79: STOPP THIS IS THE BEST
#note; Tried a new style of ficcc thought it'd be nice, that's why it took so long. I love to argue with myself it's so fun. Hope y'all enjoy it! Reminding that my requests are open (for F1 and some other fandoms as well!)
