Yn Ln makes her race engineer debut in formula one and life is only just getting started.
gr63 x raceengineer!reader // f1 social media au
a/n: I couldn't decide who to make readers partner and I don't know where George came from but that's what I've done. They have actually turned out so cute that now I want to write more George.
💌 Open for Requests or send me an ask
- ੈ✩‧₊˚
Messages
Instagram
Liked by enigneeryn, georgerussel and others
F1 BREAKING: Yn Ln to take over as race engineer for estebanocon this weekend in Brazil with alpinef1team until the end of 2024.
#F1 #Formula1
Comments
engineeryn Thank you so much for this opportunity
-> engineeryn Also, I can't believe I made a breaking news!
user OMG SHE'S A RACE ENGINEER! ROOKIE RE!
user We love to see Females in male spaces!
user How does this work with her dating Russel?
-> user They're on different teams? What's the issue
-> user Clearly, there's going to be bias
-> bff I promise she is way too competitive for bias to get in the way
landonorris So how do I ignore you now?
-> engineeryn You can't 😃
georgerussell Proud (and can't wait to beat you)
bff Game night is coming to the Grid, now you guys get to deal with the overcompetitiveness
user I'm just picturing it now yn in P1 and George in P2
-> user Do you mean Esteban?
-> user Same different
user SHE'S A ROOKIE!!!!
user So who's adopting her?
user How long has she been at Alpine?
user I just know her dad is so proud of her
user While still studying!!! She's amazing!
Twitter
Instagram
liked by estebanocan, georgerussel and others
engineeryn A little bit more of us before the weekend becomes about me and NOT georgerussel (I can not wait!)
This has been my dream for so long, and I can't help but thank alpinef1team for building me up to be this person. Nothing can beat the feeling I feel right now. Hopefully, estebanocon can deal with my ramblings on the radio as I learn to cool down.
comments
user Just name dropping all the people in the comments
user AWE THE FLOWERS!!!!
user I know he's so proud of her!
user This is making me think back to her graduation post, when they were both 'just friends'
user There is nothing better then some friendly competition
-> engineeryn See the girls who get it, get it
user How do I sign up for this kind of love
user ROOKIE RACE ENGINEER
-> user female rookie race engineer
-> user ew (but slay for the engineer part!)
-> user What does her being a female have to do with anything?
user I can't wait to see you on track
user Our girl is booked and busy
user This is the correct universe!
georgerussel I have nothing to say but I love you
-> georgerussel Please continue to compliment my gorgeous girlfriend because she deserves it all!
-> engineeryn I love you too! Thanks for all your support
user I love her and her no nonsense!
user She IS THE girl boss
user Women in male-dominated fields!
user I really want to see her engineer in F1 academy
estebanocon Can't wait to hear your voice on the radio, we are going to be great
user The energy radiating from this post is brilliant
user She just looks great in pink and blue
practice - engineeryn posted a new story
Direct reponses:
georgerussell Good luck today thanks for the tea
-> engineeryn You're welcome! I'll see you later love u
-> georgerussell Love you to
user SO EXCITED WOMEN IN MOTORSPORT
landonorris Boss lady on track!
estebanocon Rains okay?
-> engineeryn Rain is my favourite
user AHHH YOU LOOK SO GOOD IN PINK!
pierregasly Glad to see you in pink for real this tine
-> engineeryn Thanks Pierre hope you don't hate me for screaming on the radio 😊
-> pierregasly Never
sprint qualifying - engineeryn instagram mentions
userone Yn Ln got me being an Alpine girl this weekend 🩵❤️ Thank you, engineeryn
engineeryn Awe, this is adorable! Glad to have you on the right team!
user OMG I need a mercedes corset!
-> userone What about a half and half???
-> user PERFECT!
usertwo Need to have all the details right this weekend for engineeryn
engineeryn AHHH thanks for visiting!
user I feel like I don't understand all the details 👉👈
userthree engineeryn IS THE MOMENT this weekend!
user Did you know you're standing in front of the wrong garage?
-> userthree They had Esteban's garage blocked off 😣 preparing for sprint quali
engineeryn Sorry I couldn't see you! Your fit IS THE MOMENT!
sprint - Instagram "Quotes" collection
Bonus! George Russel quote: "Have you seen how good I look in pink? She's about to get sick of me"
-> one They are actually the cutest, I'm obsessed
-> -> Me to babe, me too
-> two How do I get a relationship like theirs?
-> three Yn is just a comedic icon
-> four Our girl has no worries about PR or the FIA
-> -> She's perfect!
-> five I don't think I could imagine Yn in teal?
-> -> She's just made for the pink, white and blue life
-> six This means no more days off for Yn, she's booked and busy
-> georgerussel I am saving all of these for the future, thanks
alpone fiend -> the sky was pink FOR Alpine in Brazil
Instagram
Liked by alpinef1team, estebanocon and user
engineeryn P4 never looked so good on you babe (and double podium looks great on me)
Comments on this post were turned off
engineeryn Bonus caption: Thank you to Alpine for giving me a chance, I can not wait for the next week! Thanks to Esteban Ocon for listening to me through the radio. We make a pretty cool team.
Instagram
Liked by alexandrasaint, pierregasley and others
georgerussell Congrats to my girl ❤️ I have not seen anybody as driven. Working her way though the system, a system which defies her and many others. Today she made her debut in her future career and I could not be more proud. Pink looks good on you (almost better then teal).
Comments
user He's so proud!
user The final line! It matches up with hers so well
user OMG SHE MANIFESTED IT!
user The vision board to this!
user All of the Yn fangirls are commenting in George's post because she turned off comments
user ICONIC
- ੈ✩‧₊˚
FINAL THOUGHTS:
This has sat in my drafts for the longest time, since before I posted my first work! I just love my Alpine team and am wishing them all the best 🩷 . My favourite part of this sport is the fight for the best of the rest because we see teams fight and hope. I just like the sport and don't have particular favourites, so writing about Alpine and George was really nice.
divider by: @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto& @omi-resources
word count: 1.8k
synopsis: Dick Grayson just wanted a normal date. No suits. No masks. Definitely no Batkid stakeout at a fancy restaurant. Too bad his siblings brought disguises, drama, and a front-row seat to his love life.
a/n: Since you guys liked unexpected guests, I thought I'd might make something with a similar vibe
You were halfway through your glass of wine, basking in the warm candlelight of the nicest date night you’d had in weeks, when Dick froze, fork halfway to his mouth, eyes narrowing like a predator who’d spotted prey.
“…No.”
You paused, setting down your glass. “What now?”
His eyes narrowed. “We’re being watched.”
Your shoulders tensed. “Joker? Riddler? Ra’s?”
He leaned in, deadly serious. “Worse. My siblings.”
You’d never officially met them outside your masked persona, but Dick had told you enough stories to paint a vivid picture—and to mentally prepare yourself for chaos incarnate.
You turned slowly. And sure enough…
At a nearby table, Tim sat like a stockbroker on his lunch break—slicked-back hair, tailored blazer, a leather briefcase on one side, and a newspaper in front of him. A newspaper with actual eyeholes cut into it. He lowered it just long enough to snap a photo of you and Dick with his phone—flash still on. The sound of the shutter echoed across the room.
You blinked against the glare.
Two tables behind him sat Stephanie, Duke, and Cassandra—though only one of them looked remotely sane.
Steph wore a wide-brimmed floppy sunhat, oversized sunglasses, and clutched a fake martini glass with what looked like club soda and a floating plastic olive. She was scribbling furiously in a notebook every time you smiled.
Duke, hood pulled low and sunglasses slipping down his nose, scanned the restaurant with exaggerated caution, eyes darting like a man expecting an ambush from the breadsticks.
And Cass—bless her—was the only one not drawing attention, dressed in all black, seated in a dark corner with the stillness of someone who could vanish in a blink.
At the bar, Jason hunched in a hoodie, the world’s worst fake mustache clinging to his upper lip. He cradled a glass of whiskey like a noir detective, speaking quietly into the cuff of his sleeve.
“Target is laughing,” you overheard him mutter. “Suspect she’s under duress. Dickhead is not that charming. Something’s not right.”
And then there was Damian.
In a crisp waiter uniform and fake french moustache.
He was not employed at this restaurant.
Dick sucked in a breath, knuckles tightening around his fork. “I’m going to kill them.”
“He’s got a name tag,” you whispered, peeking at the small child approaching. “It says ‘Darian.’”
Damian arrived at your table with the poise of a cat about to pounce. “Your special tonight is betrayal with a side of poor judgment. Wine?”
“Hi, Damian,” you said sweetly.
He did not flinch. “Darian.”
Dick gave him a look full of daggers. “You don’t work here.”
“I do now,” Damian replied, already aggressively pouring wine you didn’t order. “You’re welcome.”
“Damian,” Dick warned, voice like steel under velvet.
“Darian,” Damian corrected with a touch more venom. He leaned closer, gaze flicking to you. “Also—if she hurts you, I know where she lives.”
You took a measured sip of your wine. “You do not.”
He offered a tight, terrifying smile. “You’d be surprised.”
With that, he straightened and stalked away with a grace that would’ve fooled anyone who wasn’t aware he was a miniature assassin in disguise. You watched, stunned, as he stopped at another table and casually placed a Caesar salad in front of a confused elderly man.
“…did he just bring someone a salad?” you whispered.
Dick blinked. “That better not be poisoned.”
You stared at the table. “Do we tell the manager?”
He reached for his phone, jaw set with dangerous calm. “No. We do something worse.”
It turned out Dick’s threat wasn’t empty, and that “something worse” wasn’t him dealing with the problem himself. It was calling Bruce.
Two minutes later, Damian stormed back to the table where Stephanie, Tim, and Jason had regrouped—his eyes burning with righteous fury, apron askew, name tag reading Darian slightly crooked.
“Grayson called Father,” he hissed, like the words tasted like acid in his mouth.
Tim slowly lowered his newspaper, concern flickering across his face.
The fallout had been immediate. The real waiter—confused but polite—had approached Damian mid-salad-delivery with the kind of corporate smile reserved for polite hostage situations.
“I’m terribly sorry, sir,” the man had said, “but we’ve received a call from a Mr. Wayne regarding a… staffing issue.”
Damian hadn’t even gotten to argue before he was gently but firmly escorted from the dining floor like a misbehaving pageant child. Of course, Bruce had smoothed things over with the restaurant, offering a generous donation to the manager’s favorite charity along with a promise that the Wayne family would “handle it internally.”
To Damian’s credit, he had been shockingly efficient. No-nonsense, quick on his feet, and absolutely ruthless with customers who snapped their fingers or mispronounced “gnocchi.” In another life, he might’ve made an excellent maître d’.
“Abort?” Tim asked cautiously, glancing between his younger brother’s scowl and the still-blissfully-untouched couple across the room.
Duke, seated beside Steph, hesitated. “That’s probably a good idea.”
Steph scoffed, eyes hidden behind oversized sunglasses, the rim of her floppy hat flopping forward as she leaned in.
“Absolutely not,” she said firmly. “We need to know more about her.”
“Her name is Y/N,” Damian deadpanned. “She’s twenty-six, known as the vigilante Nightshade, she is a licensed EMT, allergic to strawberries, and owns three copies of Pride and Prejudice. She’s left-handed but shoots with her right. She—”
“I meant emotionally,” Steph cut in, wagging a finger. “Like… her vibe. Her soul. Her long-term intentions.”
Jason, sprawled sideways in his chair, tossed a peanut into the air and caught it in his mouth without missing a beat. “As long as I get to annoy Dick, I’m in.”
“You’re always in when it comes to annoying Dick,” Tim muttered.
Jason grinned. “Exactly.”
Cass, perched quietly at the end of the booth, looked up from her menu and gave a simple shrug. She hadn’t contributed much—hadn’t even bothered with a disguise—but she didn’t seem eager to leave either. Being around the family was enough for her.
Across the room, Dick brushed your hair behind your ear, leaned close, and murmured something that made you smile wide and laugh softly. It made Jason scowl like he’d bitten into something sour.
“They’re flirting,” he muttered. “Like, real flirting.”
Tim frowned. “Well, yeah. It’s a date.”
“I didn’t think he had that in him,” Jason said. “I mean—look at him. Who laughs like that? It’s so…bright.”
Duke arched a brow. “You mean… what happy people do?”
“Or people in love?” Tim added
Jason blinked. “Exactly. They’re disgusting.”
Stephanie snorted into her fake martini. “God forbid someone in this family finds healthy emotional connection.”
Jason pointed a finger at her. “Hey. I support him. I just don’t want to witness it.”
Cass, quietly perched beside Duke, leaned forward with her chin in her hand and spoke for the first time since returning to the booth. “It’s nice.”
The rest of them looked over at her.
She shrugged, eyes still on the couple across the restaurant. “He’s soft around her. Comfortable. That matters.”
There was a beat of silence.
Then Jason muttered, “I liked it better when he was brooding and depressed. At least that made sense.”
“You say that,” Steph quipped, “but we all know you’d cry if he got dumped.”
Jason scoffed. “Tch. As if.”
Cass tilted her head. “You hugged him when his goldfish died.”
“It was a very loyal goldfish,” Jason snapped.
Duke stifled a laugh behind his hand.
Tim was already typing on his phone again. “Logging that. Jason cried over the fish.”
“I did not cry—”
Back at your table, Dick dragged a hand down his face, groaning softly into his palm.
“This was supposed to be a normal date,” he muttered. “No suits. No masks. No siblings playing Mission: Impossible: Wayne Edition.”
You bit back a grin, reaching under the table to squeeze his hand. “You know what this means, right?”
He tilted his head toward you, wariness creasing the corners of his eyes. “That I’m not allowed to have a single nice thing?”
“No,” you said sweetly, lacing your fingers with his. “That they’re deeply invested in your love life.”
He groaned again.
You leaned in conspiratorially, your voice soft, dangerous with mischief. “Should we give them a show?”
There was a pause.
Then a slow smirk curved across his face. It started small—just a twitch at the corner of his mouth—but it bloomed fast, pulling dimples into his cheeks and lighting a mischievous gleam in his blue eyes.
“Oh,” he said, voice low and gleeful, “absolutely.”
His hand tightened around yours, and for a moment, you could almost feel the heat of retaliation rolling off him like sunbeams through stained glass.
“They wanna spy?” he murmured, already sliding his chair a little closer. “Let’s give them something worth watching.”
He looked over his shoulder—right at the table full of Bat-siblings, who immediately scrambled to look inconspicuous. Tim’s newspaper snapped, Jason dropped his toothpick, and Steph turned her martini glass upside down in panic.
Dick turned back to you, grinning like the devil himself. “You ready?”
You lifted your wine glass with a wink. “Always.”
The group didn’t even have time to formulate a new plan—no whispered code words, no exit strategies, not even a dramatic group huddle.
Because across the room, right there in full view of God and Gotham, you and Dick locked lips.
Heatedly.
With both hands cradling your jaw and your fingers curling into his shirt collar like a scene straight out of a romantic drama that was very much not PG-13.
A collective shriek erupted from the Bat-kid table.
“Gross!” Jason choked, nearly falling off his stool as he recoiled like he’d just witnessed a live-action horror movie.
“My eyes!” Tim wailed, throwing his newspaper into the air like it might serve as a spiritual shield. “I can’t unsee that!”
Duke scrambled upright, reaching out like a soldier diving into danger. “Damian, don’t look—!”
Too late.
Damian stood rigid, face twisted into a look of pure betrayal, eyes wide like someone who’d just witnessed a war crime.
“They have no shame,” he said hollowly.
“There are children present!” Duke hissed, pulling his hoodie over Damian’s head like a protective blindfold. “Actual children!”
Across the restaurant, a waiter paused mid-step to observe the scene at the booth. He blinked once, slowly, then turned and walked in the opposite direction without a word.
Stephanie gagged, shoving a napkin over her face. “I knew they were going to do something, but that—that was unholy!”
Cass, on the other hand, leaned forward with a pleased little smile, calmly sipping her water. “They’re cute.”
“No,” Jason said hoarsely. “They’re a menace.”
“They’re a power couple,” Cass countered.
At that moment, Dick finally pulled back, eyes sparkling with self-satisfaction as he rested his forehead gently against yours. You both laughed—softly, smugly—and he didn’t even need to look over his shoulder to know the carnage had taken hold.
alex has a raging crush on you, but there’s one problem: you only follow his pets’ instagram page. desperate times call for desperate measures.
ꔮ starring: alex albon x pet shelter volunteer!reader.
ꔮ social media au.
ꔮ includes: romance, humor. alex is down bad, albon_pets as a plot device, george & lando haunt the narrative.
ꔮ commentary box: this has been on my mind for monthsss!!! i <3 a cutesy little plot 🎀 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
Alex Albon misses the social media lady person, uh, Miss Admin. Anyway, no. 23 is just shooting his shot in the comments section, the replies even in the DMs. "None of this is PR approved" - Williams Racing (probably).
aa23 x reader // f1 social media au
a/n: I just got so inspired from watching (binging) Williams' YouTube content and thinking about Alex Albon (he is literally the perfect WAG). Anyway, please send requests/asks because I am on an F1 high!
💬 Cherry's thoughts...
- ੈ✩‧₊˚
Twitter
Instagram - Silverstone
Liked by alexalbon, jv.f1 and others
williamsracing Looking back at last year's British GP
Comments:
User HOME TURF!
User My favourites 😍
User We are going back better then ever!
User Hoping for a better result this week
User Points finish?
User Admin knows exactly what we want
-> williamsracing 🫡
User ugh admin my heart don't give me hope
User HOME GP! WE'VE GOT THIS
User Power on this weekend!
alexalbon Thank you for showing my good side admin (did you like it???)
User good weekend for my babe Logan
User new team torque episode 🤨
-> williamsracing out soon!
User take me back to the good ol' days
User I miss this helmet can we get it back
User the vibe at Silverstone is unmatched!!!!
User Alex can't help but shoot his shot <3 liked by alexalbon
sm_reader posted a new story
sm_reader posted 1 story to close friends
Direct messages
User coffee delivery actually means bribing the drivers to do content
↪sm_reader OMG you know me so well 🥰
User all the content that doesn't fit the Williams aesthetic
User Wow I didn't realise you were a personal assistant
↪sm_reader Lol neither did I
User busy, busy, busy
User Hey can you slip me a paddock pass? Our little secret?
User Hahaha
User Just in case you forgot how busy you are
User Where's Logan?
User can you hook me up with Alex? Or Logan? Or Franco?
User So when do you get promoted?
↪sm_reader Haha I wish
Fracocolapinto Treats?
Messages
Instagram - Abu Dhabi GP
[4 more images ->]
Liked by carlossainz, williamsracing and others
Alexalbon Oh admin oh admin
Comments
user hahaha
user shoot your shot I guess
landonorris Oh you know she's going to be mad right?
user There is nothing funnier then this dynamic
user Congrats on the end of the season!
user This was NOT Pr approved
user Where next for Alex?
↪user Already signed for another season at Williams! More social media madness
user Can't wait to do it all over again
user Why aren't we talking about THAT PHOTO
carlossianz What have I signed up for?
user This is the best version of a photo dump
user Admin liked this before she saw all the photos
user This boy out here acting like romeo and juliet
user Okay but actually he's only smiling for her
user Alex we can tell who's on the otherside of the camera
user Perfection!
user Ending the season on a high
sm_reader OMG DELETE THIS!
↪sm_reader I am going to get fired
Twitter
williamsracing posted a new story
Direct Messages
user Alex in his moody era
user OOOOOOOH GRILL THE GRID IS BACK!
-> williamsracing We have to wait until summer break (but it was close this season)
user This is our season!!!!
alexalbon Congrats on the promotion admin!
-> williamsracing Thanks! How did you find out?
-> alexalbon A little birdie told me
user NO. 55!!!! Carlos girlies rise!
user Are you nuts!
user This goes so hard
user Thank you Alex's Admin!
-> williamsracing New admin this season, hi 👋
user Why does this feel different?
user New text type... okay
user All these people noticing the details, I just notice him
user This is so not Yn's aesthetic
user What has happened? Did Yn leave?
-> williamsracing She got promoted! I'm the new admin, hi 👋
user I really hope Yn still has posting rights
-> williamsracing 🫡
-> user Okay we are all good!
user Every seasons I forget how blue Williams is
user First days 💙🩵
Messages - China
Yn posted a story to 'Reminder this is my job' - Jeddah
This is what Alex sends me on track days
user Are those hands or fingers?
-> sm_reader IDK and that scares me!!!
user Awe he misses you
user This must be super awkard
user He keeps shooting his shot and then nothing
user I didn't realise you guys were so close
user Missing you in the paddock
user Is that en egg?
-> sm_reader *an egg???
-> user Yes
user So did you have a good mornin
Apparently Alex has no friends
alexalbon Excuse me! I have friends!!!
user Awe poor Alex
user Where are all the other drivers
-> sm_reader They are staying away for good luck
user Alex annoying admin in the part I miss most
user This is the content we are missing over at Williams
-> sm_reader I can't disagree more
-> user Haha
-> user but just think about how cute it would be for them to draw their friends
-> sm_reader Okay, that's not so bad
How's your day????? Great
user This is such a bad start
user Oh No The Matcha!
user My day was great how was yours?
-> sm_reader Seriously?
user If you were at the track...
alexalbon Do you want me to get you another matcha?
-> sm_reader You're in Jeddah? How are you going to get me matcha?
-> alexalbon I have people in high places
user Keep going your day will get better!
user Whatever comes next can't be worse
user Matcha? I didn't know you were a matcha girl?
I can't escape it
alexalbon why were you watching Max 😠
-> sm_reader It's just who was on the screen ?
user 🤨 not supporting williams
-> user sus
user This is how the rest of us live
user She's just like us
user When are you next on track?
-> sm_reader Not sure. There are lots of other projects going on.
user Under new team managment???
user I miss the on track content 😭
-> sm_reader Same babe same
Messages - Miami
sm_reader posted a new instagram story
Direct messages
user Are you not working today?
user Why are you on track?
user I thought you got promoted????
georgerussel I can imagine how many question marks these posts are getting
user SO glad you're back!
user There's lots of alex in these posts 👀
user Carlos seems to be missing
carlossainz Where did you go because now Alex is sad
-> sm_reader I'm coming back just went to go look at some work stuff
-> carlossainz Alex says to stop working
user Are you working? Or just here for fun
user New WAG in the paddock!
user What's next for you now?
user Did Alex finally shoot his shot?
-> user Did it land?
alexalon I'm so glad you're here 🩵
Youtube 'team torque' - Monaco
"She's Trying to Get Me to be a Matcha Boy!" | Team Torque Ep.4 w/ David Coulthard | Monaco GP
Comments
user Who's 'Matcha Girl'?
user OMG I think it's Yn
-> userone The old admin??
-> user YES!
user Do we think Alex finally got the girl?
user Did the shot land?
user Points for ALEX!!!
user OMG YN IS THERE!
user HULK PODIUM!!!!
user All my british boys 😍
user Mr David Coulthard it's an honour
user Did I hallucinate hearing Yn's laugh???
-> usertwo OMG ME TOO!!!!!!!!!!!
user Coulthard calling Saniz macho was not on my bingo card
user I LOVE TEAM TORQUCE
-> sm_reader Say it louder for the poeple in the back!
user "it's the sainz effect" oh no alex
user Yn just sneaking into the comments lol
user THE DREAM TEAM!
user is it bad I forgot he drove for Williams...
user Such a good episode! Thanks again Yn!!!
Instagram
sm_reader Just couldn't stay away, alexalbon finally took his own shot
user I feel like you should have given a shout-out to Williams in the caption
-> williamsracing It's all good, I've still got posting privileges <3
user Williams powercouple
user Keeping eachother with photos is adorable
alexalbon Coffee soon?
alexalbon A love story in the making (Thanks for saying yes Admin)
sm_reader Admin?
-> alexalbon Oh admin, oh admin
-> sm_reader "What’s in a name? That which we call a rose"
-> alexalbon 🩵
Bonus! Tiktok dump of Alex
sm_reader You'll never guess whose in the dog house tonight
landonorris Oh you are in trouble alexalbon
user Ummmm wait isn't his girlfriend the head of media
-> user Yes that's the joke
user Didn't do anything??? Oh he's in trouble
user Alex just forgot about summer break
user We know Yn didn't have a summer break and now Alex is diminishing her work - disgusting
georgerussel This is actually amazing thank you sm_reader for the great content, sorry mate alexalbon
-> sm_reader George is offically my favourite 19' rookie
-> alexalbon Okay that's just rude
user What's going on???
user If people don't know the lore this is so funny
user The fact I KNOW it was a Yn choice to go to black and white
user They would have laughed so hard at this in the office
- ੈ✩‧₊˚
FINAL THOUGHTS:
Come say hi! I have no favourites, so just give me inspiration to write.
🔎 If you got this far, what driver number would you have if you were on the grid?
Summary: you’ve dated the Bare Minimum Brigade your entire life — men who let doors slam in your face and split bills to the last cent — so when Oscar’s unconscious acts of care become impossible to ignore, you’re forced to confront a startling possibility: chivalry isn’t dead, you just never knew what it looked like
The thing is, you’ve never considered yourself a damsel.
You open your own jars, kill your own spiders, and have a colour-coded spreadsheet for your personal finances. You are, by all accounts, a woman who has her life meticulously, almost aggressively, together.
Your dating history reflects this preference for self-sufficiency. It’s a veritable graveyard of men who viewed chivalry as a quaint, dusty relic from a bygone era: men who let doors swing shut in your face, who walked ten paces ahead on a busy street, who split the bill down to the last miserable cent on a first date. You called them the Bare Minimum Brigade. You didn’t need a knight, you just wanted a partner.
And then, there’s Oscar.
The London air is crisp, carrying the distant scent of rain and exhaust fumes. You’re walking side-by-side, a comfortable silence settled between you after a long lunch. The pavement is uneven, a mosaic of cracked grey paving stones. He’s telling a story about babysitting Max Verstappen’s cats, something about a strategically destroyed roll of toilet paper, and his voice is a low, pleasant rumble against the city’s hum.
You’re approaching a particularly busy intersection. As the crowd thickens, funnelling you closer to the curb, a gentle pressure settles on the small of your back. It’s his hand. Before your brain can fully process the warmth of it, he’s steering you.
It’s not a push, not a pull. It’s a seamless, fluid motion, like a current guiding a boat into harbour. In the space of two steps, you’ve switched places. You are now on the inside of the sidewalk, nestled against the muted brick of a storefront. He is on the outside, a quiet barrier between you and the roaring red blur of a double-decker bus.
He doesn’t break his story.
“… and I swear Sassy looked me dead in the eye while she did it,” he finishes, a small smile playing on his lips. “Pure evil, that one.”
You’re not listening. Your mind has snagged on the manoeuvre. It was so subtle, so practiced, you might have missed it if you weren’t actively cataloguing every new and bewildering thing about him.
You stop walking. He pauses a few feet ahead, turning back, his expression shifting from amusement to concern. “Everything alright?”
“You just … you moved me,” you say, the words feeling clunky and strange in your mouth.
He glances back at the street, then at you. A flicker of confusion crosses his face. “Yeah? It was getting a bit crowded.”
“No, not … you switched sides with me. I was on the outside, and now I’m on the inside.”
He looks at you, really looks, and the cogs are visibly turning behind his calm, brown eyes. He seems genuinely baffled that this is something worth commenting on.
“Oh. Yeah,” he says finally, as if just realizing he’d done it. “Well, you’re not supposed to walk on the road side.”
He says it so simply. A statement of fact, like ‘the sky is blue’ or ‘water is wet’. It’s not a declaration of protective intent. It’s not a grand gesture. It’s just … a rule. An unspoken, deeply ingrained piece of code in his programming that he executed without a second thought.
Your ex, a man named Seth who considered sending a ‘u up?’ text at 2 a.m. the height of romantic effort, would have let you get clipped by a cyclist’s handlebar and then blamed you for not looking.
“I … huh,” is all you can manage.
Oscar’s brow furrows slightly. “Is that a bad thing?” He sounds genuinely worried now, as if he’s just committed some egregious social faux pas he’s entirely unaware of.
“No,” you say, shaking your head, a slow, disbelieving smile spreading across your face. “No, Oscar. It’s really not a bad thing.”
He watches you for a second longer, his expression still a little uncertain, before he offers a small, relieved smile in return. “Right. Good. C’mon, my flat’s just around the corner. I’ll make you a tea that’ll make you forget all about my weird walking habits.”
He starts walking again, and you fall into step beside him. He doesn’t take your hand, doesn’t throw an arm around you. But you are acutely aware of his presence beside you, a solid, unassuming shield against the chaos of the city. And for the first time in a very, very long time, you feel the foreign, terrifying, and wonderful sensation of being looked after.
***
A week later, you’re on the phone with your best friend, Jess, pacing the length of your small apartment.
“He did it again,” you say, twisting the phone cord around your finger.
“The dishes? Because if he did the dishes without you having to ask, I might have to build a small shrine in his honour,” Jess’s voice crackles through the receiver.
“No, not the dishes. The thing.”
“You’re going to have to be more specific. He does a lot of things. You know, for a man. Things like ‘listening’ and ‘remembering your coffee order’. Bizarre, I know.”
You roll your eyes, even though she can’t see you. “The sidewalk thing. We went out for dinner tonight. We walked from the restaurant to the car park, maybe a hundred metres. He switched sides with me three separate times. Three! Every time we crossed a street. It was like a perfectly choreographed dance I didn’t know I was a part of.”
There’s a moment of silence on the other end of the line, then a low whistle. “Wow. So, what you’re saying is, he’s not just a fluke. This is a factory setting.”
“It has to be! Jess, it’s … weird.”
“Weird how? Weird bad? Or weird like finding a twenty-pound note in a jacket you haven’t worn in a year?”
You sink onto your sofa, tucking your feet under you. “Weird good. It’s just, no one has ever done that. Ever. My exes would have used me as a human shield against a rogue puddle.”
“Ah, yes. The Bare Minimum Brigade. A truly distinguished group of gentlemen,” she says dryly. “So, what did you do?”
“Nothing! I just let it happen. What am I supposed to say? ‘Excuse me, sir, could you please stop being so subconsciously considerate? It’s unnerving.’”
Jess laughs, a bright, clear sound. “Okay, I see your point. It’s like you’ve been subsisting on dry toast your whole life and someone just handed you a perfectly baked, artisanal sourdough with French butter. You don’t know what to do with it.”
“That is a startlingly accurate metaphor,” you admit. “It’s not just the walking, either. He always opens the car door for me.”
“Get out.”
“I’m serious. Not in a showy way. He just gets to the passenger side first, opens it, and waits for me to get in before he walks around to his side. The first time he did it, I just stood there like a lemon for a full ten seconds.”
“What did he do?”
“He just waited. Patiently. He didn’t say anything. He just looked at me like, ‘Are you getting in, or …’”
“This man is a unicorn,” Jess declares. “A rare, Australian, motorsport-driving unicorn. You need to protect him. Keep him away from the influences of modern, emotionally stunted masculinity. Put him in a biodome if you have to.”
You laugh, the tension in your shoulders loosening. “It’s just, I’m not used to it. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like, is this all an act? Is he going to turn around one day and ask me to pay him back for all the doors he’s opened, with interest?”
“Honey,” Jess says, her voice softening. “Some people are just nice. Genuinely, properly nice. Maybe he’s not putting on an act. Maybe that’s just who he is. Maybe his parents raised him right.”
The thought is both comforting and terrifying. If this is just him, if this isn't some elaborate ruse, then what does that mean? It means you might actually have to let your guard down. It means this might actually be … real.
“He also holds the door for everyone,” you add quietly. “Not just me. Men, women, elderly people, kids. If he gets to a door first, he holds it. It’s like a reflex.”
“Okay, the biodome is a go,” Jess says decisively. “I’ll start drawing up the blueprints.”
***
You’re in the paddock at Silverstone. The noise is a physical entity, a roaring, vibrating beast that seeps into your bones. The air smells of burnt rubber, high-octane fuel, and the nervous energy of thousands of people. It’s overwhelming, a sensory assault course, and you’re trying your best to look like you belong here.
Oscar has a debrief in ten minutes. You’re walking with him from the hospitality suite to the garage, a journey that feels like swimming upstream against a tide of media, team personnel, and VIPs. He has his game face on — focused, serious, his gaze fixed straight ahead. But his hand is resting lightly on your lower back again, a steady, grounding presence in the chaos.
A small crowd of fans has gathered near the entrance to the McLaren garage. They surge forward as he approaches, shouting his name, holding out caps and programmes for him to sign.
“Oscar! Oscar, over here!”
“Good luck this weekend, mate!”
He gives them a quick, polite nod, a tight smile. “Thanks, guys. Bit busy right now, maybe later.”
Most of them are respectful, but one man, burly and insistent, leans over the rope, shoving a phone in your direction. “Can you take a picture of us?” He barks at you, not even making eye contact.
You flinch, surprised by his aggression. Before you can form a response, Oscar has moved. It’s that same seamless efficiency as the sidewalk maneuver, but amplified. He takes a half-step, placing himself squarely between you and the man. He doesn’t look angry. He doesn’t even look annoyed. He looks … blank. Incredibly, unnervingly calm.
“Not right now, mate,” he says, his voice low and even, but with an edge of steel you’ve never heard before. It cuts through the surrounding noise. “And you’ll speak to her with a bit more respect.”
The man’s bravado immediately deflates. He mutters an apology, pulling his phone back.
Oscar gives him a short nod, then his hand is back on your back, urging you forward. “C’mon.”
You’re bustled through the garage doors and into the relative quiet of the engineering office. The door clicks shut behind you, muting the roar of the paddock to a distant hum. Your heart is hammering against your ribs.
“Are you alright?” He asks, his attention now fully on you. His brow is creased with genuine concern.
“I’m fine,” you say, your voice a little shaky. “He just startled me.”
“Some people just have no manners,” he says, shaking his head. It’s a simple statement, but the underlying frustration is clear. He runs a hand through his hair. “Sorry about that.”
“You don’t have to apologise,” you say, looking up at him. “You … thank you.”
“For what?” He looks genuinely confused again. “He was being a tosser.”
“For stepping in. For saying that.” You try to explain, the words tumbling out. “It’s just … most guys I’ve dated would have either ignored it or, worse, thought it was funny. They would have told me to ‘lighten up’.”
A look of deep distaste crosses his features. “Why would anyone think that’s funny?”
“I don’t know,” you say with a shrug, a bitter little laugh escaping you. “Because they’re idiots?”
He gives a small, wry smile at that. “Can’t argue with that logic.” He glances at the clock on the wall. “Right, I’ve really got to go.” He hesitates for a second, then leans in and presses a quick, soft kiss to your forehead. “I’ll see you after?”
“Yeah,” you breathe out, touching the spot where his lips were. “See you after.”
He gives you one last small smile before disappearing into the debrief room. You’re left standing alone in the sterile office, the thrum of the garage vibrating through the floor.
It wasn’t a grand, dramatic defence. He didn’t puff out his chest or start a fight. He just calmly, quietly, and unequivocally drew a line. This is not acceptable. He didn’t do it to look like a hero. He did it because, in his world, you don’t let a stranger be rude to someone you’re with. It’s another rule from his unspoken codebook. Chapter 3, Subsection B: Don’t Tolerate Blokes Being Tosspots.
You sink into a nearby office chair, the adrenaline slowly leaving your system. It’s being replaced by something else. Something warm and solid and terrifyingly hopeful. Jess was right. This isn’t an act. This is just him. And you’re starting to think you could get very, very used to it.
***
The night is quiet. You’re curled up on his sofa in his Monaco apartment, a ridiculously soft blanket draped over your legs. A half-finished movie is playing on the television, casting flickering blue light across the room. Oscar is in the kitchen, the gentle clinking of mugs the only sound.
He comes back with two cups of tea, steam rising in fragrant clouds. He sets yours on the coaster on the side table, exactly how you like it — milky, one sugar. Another one of his small, silent observations.
He settles onto the other end of the sofa, stretching his long legs out. For a few minutes, you just sit in comfortable silence, watching the film, sipping your tea.
“I have a question,” you say, breaking the quiet.
“Shoot,” he says, his eyes still on the screen.
You take a deep breath. You’ve been wanting to ask this for weeks, ever since that first day in London, but you’ve been afraid of how it might sound. Afraid of making a big deal out of something he clearly sees as nothing.
“Why do you do it?”
He finally turns his head to look at you, his expression unreadable in the dim light. “Do what?”
“All of it,” you say, gesturing vaguely with your mug. “The sidewalk thing. The doors. Today at the track. All the … gentlemanly stuff.” The word feels old-fashioned and silly on your tongue.
He processes this for a moment, a thoughtful frown touching his lips. He doesn’t laugh or dismiss it. He just thinks.
“I don’t know,” he says finally, honestly. “I don’t really think about it. It’s just how I was raised, I guess.”
“By who? Your parents?”
“Yeah. My dad, mostly,” he says, a fond, distant look in his eyes. “He’s a very proper bloke. Not in a stuffy way. Just … decent. He always told me, ‘You look after the people you’re with, Oscar. It’s not hard. It’s just what you do.’ It was never presented as a big deal. It was just part of being a good person, you know? Like saying please and thank you.”
You stare into your tea, the warmth seeping into your hands. It’s not hard. It’s just what you do. The simplicity of it is staggering. The Bare Minimum Brigade had always acted like basic consideration was a monumental effort, a task worthy of a medal.
“So it’s not a conscious choice?” You press, needing to understand. “You’re not thinking, ‘Oh, I must now place myself between her and the traffic’?”
He lets out a soft chuckle. “God, no. If I had to consciously think about it, I’d probably trip over my own feet and walk into a lamppost. Nah, it’s just … automatic. Like I said, it’s just how it’s supposed to be, isn’t it?”
He asks it as a genuine question. Isn’t it? As if he can’t conceive of a world where men don’t do these things. As if your entire dating history is an anomaly from a bizarre alternate universe.
And in that moment, something inside you, a tightly wound knot of cynicism you’ve been carrying for years, finally begins to unravel. The constant analysis, the suspicion, the waiting for the other shoe to drop — it all just dissolves in the face of his simple, unpretentious decency.
He’s not trying to prove a point. He’s not trying to impress you. He’s not playing a role.
He’s just being Oscar.
“I guess it is,” you say softly, your voice thick with an emotion you can’t quite name.
He seems to sense the shift in you. He puts his mug down and shuffles closer on the sofa, closing the distance between you. He gently takes your mug from your hands and places it next to his. Then he just opens his arm in a silent invitation.
You don’t hesitate. You slide across the cushion and curl into his side, resting your head on his chest. You can feel the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart beneath your ear. His arm wraps around you, holding you securely. It feels less like an embrace and more like a homecoming.
He rests his chin on the top of your head. The movie continues to play, forgotten. The sounds of the actors’ voices are just background noise to the steady thrum of his heartbeat.
You settle back against him, feeling a profound sense of peace wash over you. The world outside, with its noise and its crowds and its rude men with camera phones, feels a million miles away. Here, in the quiet of his apartment, curled up on his sofa, you are on the inside. You are safe.
You think about all the things you thought you wanted in a partner. Someone who would challenge you, who would match your fierce independence, who wouldn’t try to ‘take care’ of you. You were so busy building your fortress, you never realized how nice it would be to have someone who just quietly, instinctively, makes sure the drawbridge is secure. Not because he thinks you can’t do it yourself, but because it’s just what you do for the people you care about.
He shifts slightly, his hand coming up to gently stroke your hair. It’s a simple, comforting gesture. Another unconscious act of care.
And you finally let yourself believe it. This isn’t a 2000s rom-com. It’s not a fairytale. It’s just a quiet Tuesday night with a decent man who was raised right. And you realize, with a stunning, heart-stopping clarity, that it’s more than you ever dared to wish for. It’s everything.
divider by: @cafekitsune
word count: 1.1k
synopsis: After a long night on patrol, Bruce returns home to find his wife in the shower.
a/n: This is pure fluff, no smut.
The water was already warm, steam curling lazily against the marble walls as you stood under the shower, letting the heat soak into your muscles. A long sigh left your lips. Finally, quiet. Finally, peace.
Then the bathroom door creaked open.
You didn’t flinch—just smirked. “You better be naked if you’re coming in here.”
There was a soft grunt and the familiar shuffle of armour being stripped away. A utility belt thunked against the counter, followed by the muted rustle of fabric hitting tile.
You heard the shower door open a moment later. Then—
“Oh my god.” You twisted slightly to glance over your shoulder. “You smell like alleyway and sweat.”
Bruce stepped under the spray with a low groan. Water hit his chest, sluicing down over dirt-smudged skin and faint bruises blooming just beneath the surface.
“Active night,” he said gruffly. “You smell like flowers. I hate you a little.”
You laughed, turning fully to face him now, palms braced against his chest. “You’re filthy. I’m filing for divorce.”
He snorted, “Joke’s on you—I already put the mansion in your name. If anyone’s getting left out in the cold, it’s me.”
You grinned, fingers absently tracing the edge of a bruise blooming just under his collarbone. “Good. I’ll sell it and use the money to fund my villain era.”
His brows lifted, amused despite the exhaustion hanging under his eyes. “You? A villain?”
“I’d be great at it,” you said breezily. “Menacing, seductive, morally ambiguous. I’ve got the layers.”
“Please, if anything you’re more like a little thief. You steal my T-shirts,” he deadpanned.
You leaned in, lips brushing the edge of his jaw. “And don’t forget I also stole your heart. Look how far gone you are, Wayne.”
Bruce leaned in, crowding your space with the lazy weight of his body, head dipping low until his nose brushed yours. “Completely gone,” he murmured, voice roughened by the night, but eyes soft and unguarded in a way he reserved only for you. “Hopeless, really.”
Your smirk faltered into something gentler, fingers trailing up to tangle in the damp ends of his hair. “That makes the two of us,” you murmured. “Because it seems I’m hopelessly gone for you too.” You gave him a teasing look. “What other wife accepts that their husband dresses up like a bat and jumps across rooftops all night fighting killer clowns? They’d have to be insane.”
Bruce’s lips curved into a rare, amused smile. “Completely insane,” he agreed, eyes flicking over your face with fond exasperation. “We can share a cell in Arkham together.”
You huff out a soft laugh, resting your forehead against his. “You joke, but at this point I’m convinced we’ve already earned our own padded room.”
Bruce’s fingers traced idle circles at the small of your back. “I call top bunk.”
You snorted. “You would. But I’m warning you now, I’m stealing all the blankets.”
“You already do,” he murmured dryly. “Little thief.”
“So if we’re going by that technicality, that means you fell for a criminal.”
“Explains why I keep coming back,” he said, his voice dropping to a soft murmur as his fingers slipped beneath the curve of your waist. “You’re my favourite kind of danger.”
Your smile faded into something softer, more vulnerable, eyes meeting his in the hazy glow of steam and silence. “And you’re my safest place.”
Bruce didn’t say anything—not with words. He just kissed you. Slow. Deep. Steady.
The spray of the shower beat gently against your back, the scent of soap and heat curling between your bodies as his arms wound around you tighter.
Finally, you pull away, flicking you gaze back up to see his were still closed. “Turn around,” you whispered, nudging him gently.
He blinked open an eye, suspicious. “Why?”
“So I can scrub the grime off you, obviously.”
Bruce arched a brow, but the corners of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. “You just want to feel up my muscles.”
You rolled your eyes. “I’m your wife, that’s my right.” You didn’t even try to deny it. “However, you’re still covered in dirt and god knows what else—and you stink.”
He let out a short snort but obeyed, turning so his back was to you, water trailing down the powerful lines of muscle and scars. You reached for the body wash and squeezed a generous amount into your palm.
Then you began—working in slow, gentle circles, your fingers gliding across his back with practiced care. You didn’t rush. You traced each scar like it was a story only you knew, every old wound and fading bruise a chapter you’d read too many times to count.
Because you had. You knew them all.
Every place Gotham had marked him. Every place he’d broken and healed. Every inch of pain he bore like armor beneath the cowl.
“You’re tense,” you murmured, thumbs pressing lightly into the tight line of his shoulders.
He hummed low in his throat. “You try fighting six guys in a rain-soaked alley.”
“Maybe next time,” you laughed quietly, fingers still digging expertly into the knots along his spine. Each pass of your hands drew out another groan, low and guttural, like the tension was finally bleeding out of him. You felt the weight leave his shoulders piece by piece.
“That’s it,” he murmured, voice rough around the edges. “I’m firing Alfred. You’re in charge of post-patrol recovery now.”
“You couldn’t afford me,” you teased.
“Try me.”
When you finished with his back, your hands slid downward, soft now, reverent, tracing the path you’d just soothed. For a beat, you just stood there—your palms resting flat against his skin, the thrum of his pulse steady beneath your fingertips.
Then, you reached for the shampoo.
You stretched up onto your tiptoes, trying to reach the top of his head, grumbling to yourself as your fingers barely skimmed his damp hair. “Why are you built like a damn skyscraper?”
Bruce let out an amused breath. “You need a stool?”
“Shut up,” you muttered, finally managing to get your hands into his inky locks.
Any teasing vanished the moment your fingers began working gently across his scalp. His eyes fluttered shut, lashes damp, unable to help the low, content exhale that slipped from his throat. He melted under your touch—shoulders loose, body quiet, breath slow.
You finished rinsing the suds from his hair with quiet care, the water rushing gently between you as your fingers combed through the last of the soap. When you were done, you let your arms wrap loosely around his waist, cheek pressing between his shoulder blades.
Then he turned, his hands finding your hips as he gently caged you between his body and the slick tile wall. He leaned down to kiss you again, lips finding yours with the kind of aching familiarity that had your heart skipping a beat.
He snorted, “Joke’s on you—I already put the mansion in your name. If anyone’s getting left out in the cold, it’s me.”
You grinned, fingers absently tracing the edge of a bruise blooming just under his collarbone. “Good. I’ll sell it and use the money to fund my villain era
Love it!
Bruce’s lips curved into a rare, amused smile. “Completely insane,” he agreed, eyes flicking over your face with fond exasperation. “We can share a cell in Arkham together.”
Romance at its finest!
“That’s it,” he murmured, voice rough around the edges. “I’m firing Alfred. You’re in charge of post-patrol recovery now.”
the one where george couldn't be prouder to call you his, even if it seems like the whole world hates you just for doing what you love... even if they don't know the whole truth.
georgerussell63
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georgerussell63 enjoyed the time off! would never complain about spending time with my best friend, time to get back into things 💪🏎
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username gotta go check off 'george posts shirtless pics during off szn' on my bingo card
username gotta go check off 'yn cares more about her own hobby than her bf' on my bingo card
username girl you got issues with books? can't read?
alex_albon bad hair day? or are hats your new thing
yourusername tried to convince him to go with the bucket hat, but he claims 'all the kids are wearing caps babe'
username girlypop can't even enjoy a holiday with george without being focused on anything other than him??
username he's literally NECKING her in one of the photos?????? do you want her to koala hold him everywhere???
username future wdc russell george and his future writer wife frfr
username 1/2 of these things are probably true and we both know it's not the second lol
yourusername spoiling me always, my handsome handsome man 💗
georgerussell63 wouldn't have spent the last few weeks with anyone else (even if you kick me in your sleep nightly)
username do you think yourusername pictures george as the main male character in any of the books she reads???
username if i can picture him in fanfiction, im sure she pictures him in everything else???
gisèlerosebooks
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gisèlerosebooks first time being on any device since my trip with my favourite person ended. the love on collided continues to amaze me, and i'm so extremely honoured to continuously receive so much love from not only the reading community, but many of the formula 1 faithful as well. this is NOT the end of the journey, either. for now, let the formula 1 season begin... and maybe find me at a race or two? 🤭
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gisèlerosebooks oh and to my incredible, amazing, handsome boyfriend, thank you so much for always proofreading my formula 1 terminology and understanding. i promise i'll give you real credit one day.
username god adrien is so charles leclerc coded, he's all i could think about this entire book
lilymhe 🏎🫶🏻
username the fact i literally could've cared less about the lil zoom zoom cars before the dirty air series dropped and now im eager for the new season.... gisèle baby why u do this to me
username miss girl???? how are we supposed to find you at any races when we don't even know what you look like!!!
username jealous of gisèle's bf is!!! his gf is too talented for the world
username not throttled being the book to get me back into reading and now i'm blessed wth a second book??? mother is mothering real hard
username this is the type of book series i'd totally read at the track and imagine an f1 driver as my husband sry
username 10/10 book!!! dying!!!
yourusername has posted a story
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georgerussell63 wow we're so lucious and hot
yourusername luscious sweetie
georgerussell63 god i love having a hot, smart, book-writer gf. write a book about me and use that word
yourusername they're all already about you??? (handsome)
username you showed up to a race?????? shocking
gisèlerosebooks has posted a story
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username omg!!!! where are you!!! dying to meet you omfg
username YOU WERE SERIOUS
georgerussell63 i saw u slip up and post this on the og account loser
georgerussell63 can i have my scooter back ya nerd
gisèlerosebooks no sorry </3 i own it now
georgerussell63 no creds in the books and now my scooter stolen???? you hate the british
gisèlerosebooks my pseudonym is an ODE to you PAL
georgerussell63
tagged yourusername and gisèlerosebooks
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georgerussell63 a shame that this weekend didn't go the way we all wanted it to go, i know for a fact we'll be coming out on top soon! i also know yourusername or as most of you seem to prefer (for no valid reason at all) gisèlerosebooks is pretty deep in finishing book 3 and apparently this weekend was super influential??? go me (give me book creds)
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yourusername george!!! lmao!!!
yourusername a heads up next time??? maybe?!?
username 'for no valid reason at all' so SASSY oh boy
username everyone on twitter the other day calling yourusername a freeloader is soooo not doing well rn
lilymhe the secret's out!!!! (shocked, baffled, wild, can i get my books signed now)
username (G)isèle (R)ose... (G)eorge (R)ussell... dare i say... deliberately done
yourusername 🤭
username amazing race this weekend!!! can't wait to see you on top
username no one talking about book 3 almost being done??? or the fact george proofreads all her writing??? so cute
charles_leclerc so collided... is not about me?
georgerussell63 get lost mate
yourusername has posted a story
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georgerussell63 you think im a gentleman??? love you
yourusername the BIGGEST gentleman, i love you
username god this is so cute
georgerussell63
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georgerussell63 that's my little freeloading, best-selling author and future wife!
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username someone come get this chronically online man rn!!
yourusername can i be your freeloader forever??? spending my own money sucks
georgerussell63 my money's your money always my little freeloader
alex_albon emphasis on the best-selling author and future wife part
georgerussell63 you're right mate
username re-reading dirty air and knowing fully the entire book series is about george makes me so happy omg
username proud to admit i loved yourusername before AND after she was revealed as everyone's fav author (and it's not just a hobby losers)
username george doesn't get book creds until he wins a race again :)
yourusername i love this stipulation!!! georgerussell63 thoughts?
georgerussell63 you hate the british.
i had SO much fun writing this!!! i picked george after going down a george rabbit hole again (of course), so i hope you all love it!! thanks for all the love always.
i'm not necessarily taking requests right now, but if you have suggestions please feel free to send them my way.
summary: when lando norris keeps coming into your flower shop, you’re determined to figure out why he needs that many orders.
[word count] 6.1k
warnings: strangers to friends to lovers | flower shop owner! reader | fluff | humor | obvious and some not so obvious pining | kissing | humour! | cliches! | mature themes and dialogue | read at your own discretion
a/n: hello!!! and welcome to my very first formula one fic 🙌🏻 I’ve been writing nhl fics for years now and i’ve decided it’s finally time to dip my toe into some new media! hope any devoted f1 readers and/or my previous followers take their time to check this out.
🎶 say you love me by fleetwood mac, message in a bottle by taylor swift + don’t dream it’s over by crowded house
lando norris has never been too fond about the smell of flowers.
it's not that there's anything wrong with the floral scent—it's just definitely, absolutely not for him. there's something about that light, almost crisp musty smell that rubs lando the wrong way.
or maybe it's perhaps what he associates with those smells. red roses? his primary school principal who very clearly had it out for lando. daisies? the single flower he picked for his 1st grade crush, and she threw the petals back in his face as some sort of childish rejection. lilies? his late grandmothers funeral. morbid, yes, but true.
so to say he was dreading walking into this monaco floral shop was an understatement. it's painted a pastel peach, windowsills just a few shades darker so that they stand out from the brick. not that you can really see them though, not with the abundance of flowers in the hanging window baskets.
lando has already passed the store twice in procrastination. the first time he claimed he needed a coffee from the cafe across the street—because if he had to go in a flower shop, he at least needed some caffeine to serve as a pick me up while he did so.
the second time—okay, well, the second time he didn't have a valid excuse. lando simply just kept trucking by like the peach coloured brick wasn't flashing at him. taunting him with its happy colour and girly smell.
it's just...it's his elderly neighbours birthday. his elderly neighbour who he adores and who always bakes cookies for him, and lando won't be home to wish her well because of traveling. and she loves flowers. lando knows this because they're always on her counter, and he can smell peonies on her clothes anytime she stops by for milk, pinching lando's cheek while she calls him adorable.
so he knows he has to do this. his displeasure towards the arrangements be damned. lando tells himself to man the hell up and do this one nice thing for the sweet woman across the hall.
lando inhales strongly, collecting as much monaco sea air as possible before entering the shop. the wooden door creaks as he pushes it open, and instantly lando is hit with a million pollen and petal particles.
"fuckin' hell." he mumbles to himself, voice barley audible as his green eyes trail around the shop. with something similar to a grimace on his face, lando takes in the overgrown space. flowers fill every available space, making it almost impossible for a normal folk—or clueless folk—like him to navigate through.
lando takes a step, and the floorboards groan under his weight, giving away how worn and aged this place is. it's been a flower shop for as long as lando has lived in monaco, and for a moment, he lets himself wonder how long before too. surely, years based on the way that the smell so practically oozing from the light blue striped wallpaper.
wallpaper he can barley see, mind you, due to the wall of roses.
"is there something I can help you find?"
lando blinks, head snapping away from a bright yellow bundle of...some kind of flower, and towards the direction of your voice.
there's a section of teal counter, an old fashioned register and company cards sitting on top, and that's where you are. you've got on a apron that's the same peach colour as the bricks outside. and your hair’s pulled back in an effortless kind of way, and lando already knows that you smell like the flowers all around.
he swallows roughly and blinks again.
you smile, almost in amusement, and that's when he realizes that he's been stroking a flower petal like a muppet. "sorry, yeah, actually."
lando weaves through the various display tables until he's at the counter. up close, he's able to get a proper look at you, and his mouth goes dry at the sight. you're ridiculously beautiful. like other worldly kind of beautiful that would make even the most charismatic and charming men fall to their knees.
also known as him.
lando pushes through the sudden school boy nerves that are threatening to climb up his throat, sending you a boyish—yet confident—grin. "I want to send my neighbour flowers for her birthday, but i've got no clue about flowers."
you hum, "okay, well, do you know what kind of flowers she likes?"
he sends you a sheepish look, palms flat on the counter top. "all of them."
you giggle and lando swears he could faint at the sound.
"all of them?"
"yeah," he nods, "I swear that lady is like a bloody flower enthusiast. she's always got them on her island." lando pauses, a smile pulling at his lips, "and her windowsill. and her balcony. and her bedroom surely."
your fingers drum along the counter in thought. lando notes that your nails are painted a pink. it reminds him of the monaco sunset.
"and how old is said neighbour."
he blows out a breath and then grins cheekily, "elderly."
"i'd go with something classic," you tell him after a moment. you reach for a binder tucked between the register and the wall. it's blue and decorated with uniformed stickers and sharpie notes. you flip it open, swiping through a few sheets.
you point to a flower lando has never heard of, but he leans in and looks like he understands anyways. maybe—just a possibility—he was doing it so he could be closer to you. and yup, you smell like a flower field.
"i'd also throw some carnation in there. it's a classic flower for a piece. and beautiful."
lando's eyes dart away from the book and meet yours. they're swimming with passion and eagerness. it's cute, and lando can't help but to smile like a lunatic—teeth on full display. "I trust you, do whatever you think will make her happy."
your smile widens, "what's your budget."
he purses his lips. he hasn't really even thought about it. how much do flowers even cost? a beat passes, "don't have one."
your eyes widen briefly before you manage to control yourself. you're well aware that monaco is full of rich and wealthy people—even if you're not familiar with every single face that walks into your shop—but hearing those words never fails to suprise you.
flowers are expensive, and someone as clueless about flowers as the man in front of you seems to be, would have no idea.
"okay, that's great." you grab a form from behind the counter and then reach for a pen. you click the top a few times, the sound audible over the radio playing softly in the background. "when do you want the flowers to arrive?"
he tells you the date and you neatly write it down.
"and what's the name of the recipient?"
repeat.
"and the name of the sender?" you question after jotting down the previous answer. your eyes flicker up towards his green ones, a hint of personal curiosity in your gaze.
he takes his bottom lip between his teeth in an attempt to contain the embarrassing grin wanting to take over his face. "lando."
"lando." you repeat.
"and your name?"
the pen in your hand almost falls away, your eyes quickly finding his once more. "y/n." you tell him timidly, warmth collecting high on your cheeks as he repeats your name, slowly, like he's testing out how it sounds.
his eyes don't stray from yours, gaze tense and fond in a way that makes you positively squirm. you clear your throat, ball tip of the pen hitting the paper once more. "and the address?"
lando recites his neighbours address with ease, and you write down it just as quick. you question him on a few more basic things; phone number for contact purposes, if he’d like a card with the arrangement, and if so what he’d like to say, and you even asked him what day he’d prefer for delivery.
he asks if you do the deliveries, and you get warm again—lando wants to bathe in the pink of your cheeks. you tell him you have a driver who does it for you.
after he signs his name on the form, you take it back from him, moving towards the register between you. it’s silent for moment while you presumably log in, nails tapping rhythmically on the screen while you do so.
“can't make her birthday?”
your question has lando momentarily confused, brows pulled tight. it’s only when you raise an eyebrow in silent amusement that lando remembers who he’s getting the arrangement for—and why he’s here in the first place.
“oh, right,” he swallows roughly, “no I can't, i'm traveling for work.”
you hum and shoot him a curious glance. “what do you do for work?”
he laughs once and breathy, eyes falling down towards the floorboards for a few moments. once he meets your gaze again, he notes that you haven’t look away—and you look more intrigued than before.
lando grins, “you're not going to believe me if I tell you.”
“are you putting on some kind of mysterious act?” your fingers halt on the screen—hovering over the baby breath button—and you squint hesitantly.
“depends?” he hisses through his teeth, “is it working?”
“I suppose so,” you breathe a sound that almost sounds like a laugh, eyes darting away before quickly darting back to his. “i'm definitely curious now.”
“wasn't before?”
you kiss your teeth to keep a fond smile from blossoming on your face. you’ve dealt with flirty customers before, obviously, but there’s something about the curly haired, gap toothed smiley one in front of you now that has you actually flustered.
you decide to not answer right away, clicking a few more flowers on your computer for the order print. finally, after what feels like an eternity for lando, you answer.
“you're cheeky,” you muse.
he’s still grinning. “it's a part of my charm.”
you bark a laugh, “I bet it is.”
the door creaks open, breaking whatever trance the both of you had been in. a customer, a few years older than you, walks in causally—moving towards some daffodils you’d potted this morning.
you clear your throat, looking away from lando’s green gaze, and back towards the till. he watches you click a few more buttons and type some codes in—and then the printer is whirling to life.
the customer picks a bouquet and moves to wait behind lando.
his heart pings at the time being interrupted.
“i'll just take your card information then,” you say promptly, “my machine takes a picture of it for billing, if that’s okay with you?”
lando slides his credit card over the counter, “yeah, sure. thank you.” he watches as you carefully take his card—like it’s made of gold—and place it on some fancy machine lando couldn’t even attempt to dissect. it makes a few clicking sounds, presumably capturing the information, and then you pass it back to him.
“all right, you're all set.” your fingers brush his when lando takes it back.
“I appreciate this.” lando shoots a glance over his shoulder once the guy starts impatiently tapping his foot. and look at that—he’s suddenly got the urge to punch out your next customer!! without hesitation, lando looks back at you, continuing like nothing. “I think I would've been completely lost without you.”
you grin, smoothing down the front of your apron like a nervous habit. “we'll, it is my job.”
“you're good at it,” he compliments with an earnest smirk.
it makes you laugh awkwardly, absentmindedly reaching out to straighten up the stack of local business pamphlets. you keep them there for weddings as it helps local venues get recognition. “i'm not sure one could really be good at taking information for a floral arrangement,” you mumble modestly.
“well I think you're great.” lando answers quickly.
the guy behind him clears his throat and lando has to stop his eyes from rolling to the back of his skull.
you smile politely and lando, despite the annoyance for the douche waiting in line, follows suit, his own toothy grin reappearing. “i'll be seeing you, y/n.”
—
almost a month passes before you see lando again. despite the hopes of him walking back through the front door of your flower shop again, you didn’t believe the day would come.
but here he is, clad in a branded sweatshirt and shorts with his curly hair all unruly like he’s been running his fingers through it on the way over.
lando has some dignity, so he pretends to look very interested in the rose display before letting his eyes wander in search of you. yeah well, that whole self dignity thing lasts 20 seconds before his sights are set on you in your peach apron.
you can’t help but grin once you feel his gaze land upon you. like him, you also wanted to seem casual, so as soon as you realized it was him walking through your door, you reached for a book, and flipped it open to a random page in some attempt to appear scholarly.
you can’t even remember if this book is yours or the delivery guys.
“back for more flowers?” you ask, eyes flickering up to his approaching figure.
lando grins, “yeah.” no.
you close the book and put it back in the half dusty corner you found it. “the neighbour again?” you question, placing your palms flat against the counter.
he rubs the back of his neck. “not this time, but she loved them so much—sent me cookies as a thank you and everything.”
“i'm offended that you didn't bring me one,” you tease him quickly and easily, making lando’s stomach do that funny drop you get on a carnival ride.
you log into the register and lando laughs, answering you with an impressed raise to his eyebrows, “they barley lasted 10 minutes.”
you snicker at that. opening up a new order form in his file, you ask—“so who are these ones for?”
lando almost curses aloud. he really hadn’t thought this far ahead. when he woke up this morning he had a plan. he really did. despite the jet lag he’s still battling from three weeks of consistent travel paired with inconsistent sleep, lando was going to get up early and come visit your shop.
he was going to turn on his natural flirtatious side and ask you to dinner or something just as chivalrous—perhaps the new cocktail lounge that opened up just down the street from your shop.
but then you asked him with a pretty smile if he was back for more flowers and he just said yes without a second to process the question.
you wait patiently, fingers still—and now a bit longer and painted a sky blue—for his answer. an answer that’s taking a suspiciously long time for a person who supposedly came in here to but flowers.
lando clears his throat, “my...sister.”
“your sister?”
“yeah,” he nods, “it's her graduation.” she’s only in second year at uni, you idiot.
your eyebrows draw together with confusion.“in august?”
lando rubs along the back of his tanned neck once more, and you pick up that it must be an anxious habit. “yeah,” he winces, eyes trickling back to yours from where they briefly settled on the worn wood beneath his feet. “i'm a little late.”
“alright well,” you exhale, bringing out that same binder from last time. “let's do something simple, and something that says sorry for the late arrangement.” your teasing tone has lando smiling softly. you don’t catch it, too busy flipping through the pages in search of the flower you’d thought of it your head.
“yeah,” he breathes, “sounds great.”
you make a little trumpet noise when you find the poppies, letting lando choose between the variety of colours. he picks orange, says it’s his favourite, and you think that, oddly enough, it suits him.
you repeat the same process as before, and when you ask for a delivery address, lando just spews out his own. it’s not like you’d know anyways—besides, he can’t tell you that his sister actually lives in the UK and will not be receiving these flowers period.
so yeah, his address will do.
“okay, these will only take me 20 minutes tops. would you prefer delivery again? or would you like me to text you when they’re done and you can come pick them up?”
lando stutters for a moment, the excitement that settles in his chest at the thought of seeing you again today almost too much for him to bear. “I’ll come back, if that’s okay with you?”
you grin with half amusement, “i’m definitely okay with that.” you print the order form and grab it from the printer once it’s finished up. “I’ll text your number on file when they’re done.”
and before he can’t say anything else, lando just smiles dreamily, “please.”
when you do text him 30 minutes later, he returns to the shop almost immediately after, a cheeky grin on his face and two takeaway cups of coffee in his hands, you can’t help but to accept one. it takes him another 20 minutes before he leaves again, both of you too distracted with learning about one another to notice the passing time.
—
a week and many daydreams of lando walking through the front door of the store later, does he actually walk into the shop. he's gotten a hair cut since the last time you saw him. it's neater, but still got that messy look that makes him look like the main love interest in a early 2000s rom com.
lando’s got a container in one hand and a smile on his face. unlike last time, he doesn’t even glance at the flowers, and instead makes a beeline right for you.
you’re fussing over some sunflowers that are beginning to wilt in a large mosaic vase set out in front of the large window—giving the shop most of the sunlight you crave.
“you're back,” you note, eyes closing in to the tupperware in his large hand. “and you've got...are those cookies?” you turn away from the flowers, gently crossing your arms just as lando comes to a stop.
he grins proudly, “I saved you some this time.”
the brief conversation about homemade cookies from his elderly neighbour crosses your mind, and your eyes widen in recognition. “you didn't need to do that,” you scold kindly, not yet taking the container lando is gesturing out to you. “I was only playing,” you admit shyly.
“it's no big deal,” he shrugs, smile growing once you timidly take the clear container that holds four cookies. “plus, it's a thank you for all your help.”
“well,” you laugh once as you walk towards the counter, placing the cookies down next to the register before turning back to lando. he’s not near the sunflowers like you expected. no, he’s followed you to the counter.
you smile shyly, “thank you for the treat.” lando runs his hand over his sweatshirt—it’s a chiller morning in monaco, oddly enough—and mumbles some kind of compliment.
your cheeks heat anyways. “have you only come here to bring me these?” you squint inquisitively after a beat passes, eyeing lando.
“what?” his voice cracks embarrassingly, leaving him no choice but to awkwardly clear his throat. “no.” yes. “I had to be in the area.” no he really didn’t. “met up with a friend for coffee,” oh did he now? “told him all about your shop.”
his awful lies are all worth it the second an appreciative look flashes over your face. “did you?”
“I did,” lando swallows roughly and shoves his hands into his pockets. “he said he'd have to check it out.”
your lips part, but the shrill noise of the mint green phone attached to the wall ringing stops whatever words you planned to say. you look away from the phone and back to lando, sending him a guilty smile. “duty calls. excuse me.”
he watches you round behind the counter and answer the phone. lando’s not too sure why he sticks around for the phone call to finish up. maybe it’s the way he’s too entranced watching you in your element to leave, or maybe because he still hasn’t asked you out, and was planning to do it today before the phone started to ring. lando’s not quite sure.
regardless, he’s still there once you’ve finished the call, and you send him a look. “everything okay?”
lando blinks, “I also came because I need another flower arrangement.” he wonders if you can actually smell the bullshit coming form his mouth.
“oh!” you emote, “really?”
“yeah, my race engineer is getting married.” no lando, actually, your race engineer has been married for 10 years.
your eyes flash, “race engineer huh? you work with cars?” you question while bringing up his file.
“something like that.”
you smile, nodding your head slowly like you don’t quite believe him. lando almost wants to shrink in on himself and hide from your gaze—but that means he wouldn’t be able to look at you, and that sounds downright dreadful.
“alright, well, let me get something together then.”
—
four days before lando needs to leave for the british grand prix, he's walking back through the front door of the peach painted brick building.
it's not like you were expecting him or anything, but you're not surprised when the door creaks open and you catch sight of a familiar head of curls. what does surprise you though is the two men he's with—you presume they are his friends.
your curious and intrigued eyes catch lando's. despite the smile he sends your way, you can see something that looks a lot like embarrassment coupled with annoyance twisted within his expression.
his friends though? they couldn't look further from annoyed if they tried. both tall men who look around lando's age, scan your overgrown floral shop with wide eyes and amused grins.
"hello." you swallow thickly as their gazes land on you. your body naturally wants to freeze in place, especially when lando's friends somehow grow more smug and excited at the sight of you.
"y/n, hi." lando speaks first, his greeting coming out in one long breathe of relief—like physically seeing you now is allowing him to finally exhale.
"hello," the one who previously stood on lando's left greets you, a teasing glint in his eyes that makes you heat up. you note that he's got a similar accent to lando. the guy leans against the counter—not intimidating, but rather casual—"so, you own this place, right? do your own arrangements?"
"I do," you nod, already itching to reach for your binder just to look busy. your eyes narrow, "do you need an arrangement?"
"I actually do," he says, inspecting one of your business cards next to the register. his eyes flicker back to yours, "it's my girlfriend and I's anniversary, so i'd like to get a few big arrangements."
the other friend walks up next to the other one, a wide smile of his face. he's got the same accent—you wonder if they all grew up together. "lando hasn't stopped talking about you and this place for weeks. and when george here mentioned his anniversary, we just knew we had to come see what all the hype was about."
your eyes flicker towards lando, who has now come to stand beside his two friends. lando's cheeks heat and his eyes briefly meet the floor like they've done many times in your shop.
"is that so?" you ask the nameless friend, a slight teasing tone to your voice that has lando grinning automatically. when he looks back up, his eyes naturally lock with yours.
he sends you a meek smile and it doesn't go unnoticed by his friends, the two giving one another a look as you return the gesture.
"don't listen to these muppets," lando grumbles, "they've been in one too many crashes."
you let out a quiet laugh, fiddling with the pocket of your peach apron. you force your eyes away from lando's familiar ones and back to george—or so you think the other one called him. "I've got a form to go over with you, if you'd actually like to place an order."
george smiles appropriately, "yes, thank you." like lando has seen you do before, you go through the entire process with george in a quick yet efficient manner, taking down his information and helping him pick out the florals for the two arrangements george plans on having delivered in two weeks time.
once it's all done and you've printed the order form, you turn your gaze back on lando, a half hidden smile instantly pulling on his lips as you do. "is there anything else I can help you guys with today?"
"i'm okay, thank you," his other friend grins and extends his large hand to you over the counter, "i'm alex."
you take his hand delicately and lando hates how a pang of jealousy hits his chest. alex is literally in a relationship you muppet. "y/n."
the process repeats with george, who makes some kind of lame joke that works in making you laugh in amusement. lando naturally shifts, practically shoving george out of the way so that he's the one closest to you instead.
"lando." you greet with a knowing smile, "are you getting anything today?"
"not today-"
alex interrupts before lando can continue further. "im sure he'll be back soon enough to place an order though," he knocks his shoulder into lando's teasingly, "he really loves your place."
"oh yeah, he really—"
"alright," lando smothers whatever annoying thing george was planning to add on to alex's comment. he sends both of his friends a warning look, "I'll meet you guys outside, yeah?"
the two of them snicker—alex even tosses his hands up in a mock surrender—while the two of them make their way back through the flower shop and in the direction of the door. before the door creaks back open to reveal the monaco skyline, both alex and george send you enthusiastic departures, followed by inaudible whispers and laughter.
silence fills the store once more. lando's face is still tinged red in a flustered and slightly embarrassed way, and it has a little giggle slipping from your lips.
lando's lips turn upwards immediately. "I'm sorry about them, again," he retorted his earlier apology. "they insisted on coming with me when I mentioned stopping by tonight."
well, not exactly the truth. in all honesty, george and alex had both grown sick and tired of hearing lando talk about you and your shop—constantly—and forced lando to bring them so they could see what all the fuss was about. on the way over to your shop, lando had made his friends promise to behave and not scare you away—because that's the last thing he needed.
but then they walked in, saw why lando was so fond of you, and all promises of good behaviour were left at the door.
"they're fine," you reassure truthfully, a small smile playing on your lips. "so there's really nothing for you today?"
lando ponders for a moment, lips pursed while his eyes dart around the shop. right next to the counter you've got a selection of pre-made arrangements, easy for grab and gos for last minute birthday dinners, and early morning stops. lando picks the one with the most orange and places it on the counter between you.
"i'll take these, actually."
your grin widens and in an attempt to conceal it, you duck your head, busying yourself with wrapping them in paper for departure.
after a beat, your gaze finds his once again, except this time, its swimming with hesitation and a pile of curiosity. you clear your throat, finishing the last fold on the arrangement, "so...are these for your girlfriend?"
lando's ears pick up the distaste and envy that laces your question, and his urge to smooth over the situation before you get the wrong idea comes automatically. "no,” he huffs, eyes searching yours, “no girlfriend here. if I did have one though, i'm not sure she'd appreciate how often I visit the nice pretty girl at the flower shop."
your eyes widen, “oh-wha-me?”
lando laughs softly while your shellshocked expression doesn’t waver. he palms the back of his neck, a teasing tinge to his tone. “you are the only one who works here, right?
“yes,” you breathe.
“then yes,” lando’s grin widens. “you.”
like clockwork, you duck your chin to hide your face and lando blushes—the two of you very much resembling nervous primary school children with crushes. we’ll, actually, that’s exactly what it feels like. and clearly, according to alex and george, it what it looks like as well.
lando pays for the orange flowers, and when you ask again who they’re for (this time), he just says one word: you.
lets just say, you keep them in the back office and grin like a manic anytime you go in there and catch sight of them.
—
after the whole buying flowers and gifting them to you exchange that happened two months ago, you never really expected to see lando again. well correction—you expected to see him, but you didn't expect him to keep buying arrangements.
oh, but did you ever assume incorrectly. sometimes it was twice a week he'd walk into your shop, a shy yet confident look to him while he ordered an arrangement for some random event—team dinners, galas or his mothers retirement party.
sometimes you wouldn't see him for three weeks. you didn't ask about his whereabouts—assuming he travels for work—but everytime without fail, his first day back in monaco, he'd come see you. smiling and with a pep in his step, always telling you in a quiet, intimate way that he missed you.
but that's all he says. much to your dismay, lando never asks you out. not to coffee or dinner or anything in between. it's gut wrenching, sure, and then you start overthinking every single interaction with lando. were you misreading the situation?
but then he'd come back all flirty and telling you he missed the smell of the shop and you'd think otherwise. plus, he keeps buying damn flowers.
so today when lando walks into your shop, you're determined to figure it all out—the flirting and the flowers and everything else that gets your heart thumping and mind wandering.
he waltzes right up to the counter that separates you from the rest of the shop, a cheeky smile on his face as he leans on top the counter with his elbows.
you raise a brow, “another arrangement?”
“you guessed it,” he smirks boyishly up at you.
you don’t move to grab the binder like you usually would, and that instantly has lando’s thick eyebrows furrowing. you continue to stare down at him, unamused. “who are these flowers for?”
lando blinks, stuttering while he tries to formulate some kind of plausible response. “ummmm...oscar.”
“who's oscar?”
“my friend.”
you make a noise, eyes narrowing in utter disbelief. “does oscar typically want flowers?”
much to your surprise, lando just shrugs a shoulder, and with his lips pursed, he tells you—“don't really know.”
you don’t answer. not right away. it’s now that you grab the sticker covered binder full of pages upon pages of different flowers, carefully flickering it open so that the cracked spine doesn’t obtain any further damage. you seem very calm, and that makes lando feel the complete opposite.
there’s something your eyes that has lando narrowing his gaze on you. you don’t look at him while you quickly and quietly fill out the information—after all, you’ve filled out enough of these for lando that you’ve got his damn phone number memorized.
finally, you turn your attention back to him. “and delivery adress?”
and it’s then. when lando easily recites that same adress he’s given you more times than you can count, does your curiosity come to a tilt. you softly drop the pen, “i've got a question lando.”
“yes?”
you kiss your teeth, “how come every single arrangement after the first one is being delivered to the same address?”
lando blinks a few times. swallows roughly twice. and then he lets out an awkward chuckle, finger absentmindedly stroking along a divet in the wood counter.
“would you believe me if I told you everyone I know all lives in the same place?” he grimaces, hopeful eyes twinkling with mischief.
your nose scrunches—half amused and half in confusion. “not too sure if i'd buy that.”
“no?”
“nope.” lando’s shoulders sag and an apologetic grin forms at your response. you let out a slow breath, crossing your arms over the apron lando has been dreaming about. he sees that peach colour everywhere now—it’s like a less than kind reminder of how badly he’s been fumbling you. for months now.
“you know you don't have to come in here and buy things all the time,” your voice is laced with masked disappointment, making lando frown. you continue softly, “it's okay if you want to just browse.”
“I don't want to browse.”
“oh?”
lando curses to himself, so softly that to you it simply sound like a heavy exhale. you wait patiently for his response, playing with your bottom lip between your teeth to keep any emotions at bay.
you watch with careful eyes as lando pushes off the counter, his back straightening. his eyes meet your again, and after a tension filled beat, he admits—“I really didn't like the smell of flowers, you know that?”
“i'm sorry to hear that,” your voice is cautious. confused. “why did you come here then?” a pause while your brain jogs with memories. “was the neighbour a real person or…?”
“shes real,” lando reassures you quickly, “and it was actually her birthday.”
“and the others?”
he takes a deep breath, and then finally, after months of months of practiced speeches in his bathroom mirror, and imagining this conversation while the country music you have playing in your shop plays through his headphones before a race, lando spews.
“my sister didn't graduate, no one was getting married and oscar is actually allergic to pollen.”
you complete idiot, he thinks. because instead of that clearing up any of your confusion—and why would it because what the hell?—lando’s words have only made your expression grow tighter. you blink, “so why'd you keep buying the flowers.”
“because of you.”
“me?”
okay, he thinks, this is it. it’s finally time.
lando’s plump lips part, “because I liked you or I still do.” he takes a deep breath, “like you.” when you don’t respond, he continues. “and I know that it's kind of crazy and i'm crazy and i disappear for weeks at a time and im flirty and have too much money to spend on floral arrangements for imaginary occasions…but I just wanted to come see you.”
“lando,” your shoulders drop, and lando’s heart does as well. is this rejection? has he been playing this weird, long game for months only to have misread the situation.
“you can kick me out,” he offers.
“no,” you shake your head softly, and the last thing lando’s sees is your shy smile before you lean over the expanse of the counter, and place a delicate kiss to his cheek. so close to the corner of his mouth that for a moment, lando’s knees go weak. “i'm not going to kick you out,” you promise as you drop back to your heels.
dazed and still reeling form the feeling of your soft mouth on his warm skin, lando can only manage to nod dumbly. “that's good.”
“and I like you too,” you grin, “and all your made up occasions.”
lando exhales with a wide smile, “that's really good.” and because he’s sure he’s finally got it right, lando takes his turn to lean over the teal painted counter, one large hand holding the side of your face while he brings his lips down to yours.
it’s not perfect in the sense of the movies, but it’s perfect for you and lando. you’re both grinning into it, making it hard to actual kiss like normal people, but somehow you still manage to capture one another’s mouths in fleeting, tender kisses.
you pull away after a few moments, a playful laugh passing through your kiss moistened lips. “you're a race car driver.”
lando blinks, forehead bumping your gently while his thumb strokes long your cheek. “huh?”
a giggle sounds between you and then your pressing another quick kiss to his mouth. “that's your job.”
his eyebrows tug down towards his noise while an amused look crosses his face. “how'd you figure it out?”
“I googled you.”
he can’t help but to dip down and steal another kiss, muttering against your mouth—“cheeky girl.”
Hello! Just wanted to say I absolutely love your writing! A bit of a request for the batboys (Jason, Tim, Dick, and Damian), just something silly.
I recently saw a video of a girl saying her boyfriend's entire name as if he was in trouble only for her to tell him she loved him. It was funny to me at the time, it was also late at night lol.
Soo... How would the boys react to reader suddenly saying their full name out of the blue as if they were in trouble as a prank? 👀👀🤭
Dick is thinking to death about what he might done to earn you saying his full name, so much so the poor man was sweating bullets which each step he took in your direction
Did he miss an anniversary?
Date night?
Hayley’s vet appointment?
He wanted to know badly so that he could think up a way to make it up to you however you wanted. Steal his clothes because they smell like him, he didn’t care, he just didn’t like you using his full name.
So as he looked you deep in the eyes, mentally preparing for whatever left your mouth, only for you to relax your face and kiss his cheek much to his surprise.
‘I love you.’ You told him sweetly as you smiled at him.
‘What?’ Dick said.
‘I love you.’ You repeated, still smiling.
‘That’s…that’s all you’ve called my full, legal government name for, to tell me you love me?’ Dick asked as though he was waiting for a joke that was never going to come.
‘Yep.’ You said.
‘No catch.’
‘None.’
‘Can you stop calling me Richard now and go back to calling me baby, cutie, dickie bird or -preferable- handsome now?’ Dick again asks as he felt a weight lift off of his shoulders and was finally able to breathe again now that his questions could finally be laid to sleep.
You chuckled as you kissed his lip. ‘Sure, whatever you say, handsome.’
Damian is unfazed.
He’s use to his full name being used and he doesn’t exactly feel anything but annoyance that he has to leave the piece he has spent the better half of a week working on, just to answer your call.
Damian loved you without a doubt but he’s not exactly fond of whenever you try to follow along these tasteless ‘trends.’ Though he knows himself well enough to know that he would never stay upset or mad at you for long, you were his weak spot, his treasure forever and always even if this is the things they kept you entertained.
‘I know you’re not saying my full name for any particular reason my treasure.’ He told you rather plainly.
‘And how would you know there isn’t a reason I called for you?’ You replied, crossing your arms over your chest. Damian copied.
‘Because I have a good memory and I haven’t missed any important date, that’s not until next week, that and the fact that I can see the muscles in your face struggling to keep the smile at bay.’ Damian said as he pointed out your biggest sign that you were lying about something.
You always involuntarily smiled when telling a lie the title made it far easier for Damian to know that what you were saying was far from the truth. It was your Achilles heel and Damian knew how to use it to his advantage.
‘I’m not.’ You said, struggling to stop the smile.
‘You are and you’re doing a bad job at it my sweet.’ He replied as he was now the one cockily smiling, knowing he’s got you where he wants you that you couldn’t do anything but crack under his stare.
‘Fine you loser, I only called you in here to say I love you, there happy?’ You asked as you pouted.
Damian walked over to you and pressed a kiss to your forehead. ‘All you had to do is say my treasure.’ Was all he said as he spent the rest of the day with you and Titus.
Jason is immediately in front of you within a heartbeat.
He, much like dick, didn’t like it when you use his full name.
You’re his partner! USE THE CUTE NICKNAMES YOU CHOSE FOR HIM INSTEAD! Who’s this Jason Todd? He only responds to Jaybird, jay jay, or baby with the occasional sweetheart from time to time.
‘Chipmunk, can you please tell me want I did wrong?’ Jason asked as he walked into the kitchen where you called him from.
You furrowed your brows. ‘Wrong? I only called you in here to tell you I love you.’ You replied as Jason started at you for a bit before he pinched your side, making you squeal.
‘You’re a little shit, you know that sweetheart.’ Jason asked as he kept pinching your sides, making you giggle and squeal in his hold. ‘Had me all worked up and everything.’ He adds as he starts biting your neck playfully.
‘I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Have mercy!’ You cried, trying to push yourself away from Jason but it was proven nearly impossible when your man was a literal wall of muscle.
‘’All I can hear as the squeaks of a cheeky little mouse.’ Is all Jason said as he continued to tickle, pinch at your sides. He hates it when you call him his full name, it reminded him of lesser then ideal times, sure it sounded far sweeter and loved when it was coming from you rather than theirs, but he’d much rather you call him anything it his full name.
Tim knows what you’re up to the very moment you use his full name.
His detective brain kicks into hyperdrive and goes into the logical explanation as to why the sudden change.
You’ve never used it before, so why now did you use it unless you had seen a cute trend or something that you thought was hilarious on TikTok, or on another social media platform and wanted to try it out for the sake of following whatever was the thing to do.
That or you were genuinely mad and he should at least go talk to you in hopes of de escalating the situation, should it come to it.
‘I love you.’ You said.
‘You’ve said my full name, lured me out of my room, just to say I love you?’ Tim asked with a raised brow as though his heart wasn’t going nuts once again with how much your words easily affected him.
You paused for a brief moment before smiling. ‘Yeah sounds about right.’
Tim sighs but he couldn’t help but feel a smile creep up on his lips. ‘You’re ridiculous sometimes I swear.’ He says under his breath, ‘you almost had me second guessing myself there but I’m glad this is what you called me out for instead.’ He finished as he pressed his forehead against your own, feeling relaxed and clear minded once more.
‘You may say I’m ridiculous but you love it when I keep you on your toes, it’s like a brain exercise in a way.’ You cheekily told him as you kissed his cheek.
‘You call that a brain exercise?’ Tim said. ‘That was barely a brain activity but more like a brain fart if anything.’ He said as you pouted and smacked his bicep, causing him to smile.
‘We can’t all be smart asses like you drake.’ You said and Tim shrugged as he tugged you close.
‘True but you certainly are a pain in the ass.’ Tim replied, which only made you slap his bicep again as he chuckled and you bury your head into his neck.
Can you do all drivers on the grid x girlfriend!reader where she records TikTok with the trend my favorite snack and at first she shows some food and then the driver?
They reaction to your favorite snack
pairing: all the drivers on the grid x girlfriend!reader
summary: you join the “my favorite snack” TikTok trend — starting off innocent with some food, and then ending with your F1 bf as the real snack.
note: thanks for you request! have a good day 🤍✨
Red Bull
Max Verstappen
The video starts with Dutch stroopwafels and Red Bull cans. The last clip? Max, shirtless, drinking water post-gym.
You caption it: “sweet, crunchy, and keeps me energized 😏”
He comments: “You forgot ‘fast’ 😉”
Yuki Tsunoda
You show a bunch of Japanese snacks — Pocky, onigiri, mochi… and then bam, Yuki sitting cross-legged on the couch eating chips with chopsticks.
Caption: “My favorite snack? The one that bites back when hungry.”
Yuki duets it, pretending to be mad, but he’s blushing the whole time.
Ferrari
Charles Leclerc
It starts with French pastries, macarons, and strawberries. Then cuts to Charles lying on your kitchen counter eating strawberries dramatically.
Caption: “Always sweet, sometimes a little dramatic 🍓.”
He reposts it on his story with “Excuse me???”
Lewis Hamilton
Vegan cookies, acai bowls, and matcha lattes. Then Lewis, lounging shirtless with a smoothie in hand.
Caption: “My healthy addiction 🌱✨.”
He comments: “Balance is key 😌❤️”
McLaren
Lando Norris
The TikTok starts with chocolate bars and sour gummies, then cuts to Lando — hoodie, messy curls, cheeky grin, and crumbs on his face.
Caption: “sweet, chaotic, and always gone too fast 🍫.”
Lando comments: “That’s not fair 😭 I was eating!”
Oscar Piastri
Starts with TimTams and Vegemite (just for the drama). Then cuts to Oscar smiling shyly in bed, hoodie up.
Caption: “Australian snack: soft, quiet, and surprisingly addictive 🦘.”
Oscar replies: “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Racing Bulls
Isack Hadjar
Croissants, candy, and energy drinks — and then Isack sitting on your lap with chips, smirking.
Caption: “A little French, a little chaos.”
He comments: “Excuse me?? I’m a full meal.”
Liam Lawson
Starts with Kiwi candy and popcorn, then Liam pops into frame with messy hair and a peace sign.
Caption: “Crispy, salty, and always up for a movie night 🍿.”
He duets it: “You forgot ‘stubborn’.”
Mercedes
George Russell
Healthy cereal, protein bars, almond milk… and then George with perfect hair, eating grapes like royalty.
Caption: “Crunchy. Classy. A little dramatic.”
George comments: “You make me sound like a salad.”
Kimi Antonelli
Italian biscotti, Nutella, espresso — then Kimi with bed hair, trying to look serious but blushing.
Caption: “My favorite Italian snack ☕️🇮🇹.”
Kimi sends three 🫣 emojis and doesn’t say anything else.
Aston Martin
Lance Stroll
Chocolate chip cookies, milk, and then Lance shirtless, hair all messy, grinning at the camera.
Caption: “My comfort snack 🍪🤍.”
He comments: “You only like me ‘cause I bring cookies.”
Fernando Alonso
Dark chocolate, red wine, olives… and then Fernando smirking directly at the camera in his Aston uniform.
Caption: “Rich, aged perfectly, pairs well with wine 🍷.”
He reposts it with: “Not wrong.”
Williams
Alex Albon
Thai snacks, spicy chips, and bubble tea. Then Alex in a hoodie, holding your cat and smiling.
Caption: “Sweet, a little spicy, and definitely my comfort food 😌.”
Alex comments: “Even the cat agrees 🐱”
Carlos Sainz
Spanish tapas, churros, and espresso. Then Carlos winks at the camera while cooking.
Caption: “Warm, intense, and dangerously good in the kitchen 🇪🇸🔥.”
Carlos comments: “You forgot handsome.”
Haas
Ollie Bearman
You start with gummy bears and chocolate milk. Then Ollie smiling shyly, cheeks pink.
Caption: “Soft, sweet, and a little too young for this trend 🫣.”
Ollie replies: “HEY 😭😭😭”
Esteban Ocon
Croissants, black coffee, and Esteban smirking at the camera in a white T-shirt.
Caption: “Elegant, sharp, and a little hard to share ☕️.”
Esteban comments: “Who said I’m sharing you?”
Alpine
Pierre Gasly
Macarons, strawberries, champagne. Then Pierre shirtless, covered by the bedsheet.
Caption: “Luxury snack 🍾🇫🇷.”
Pierre duets it: “You mean main course 😌.”
Franco Colapinto
Dulce de leche, alfajores… then Franco with bed hair, big smile, holding your hand.
Caption: “Sweetest Argentinian treat 🇦🇷💋.”
He comments: “You’re my favorite snack too, amor.”
Kick Sauber
Nico Hülkenberg
Coffee, dark chocolate, pretzels. Then Nico giving you a knowing smirk.
Caption: “Crispy, mature, and slightly bitter — in the best way ☕️.”
Nico comments: “You forgot handsome and reliable.”
Gabriel Bortoleto
Brazilian brigadeiros, coconut candy, and then Gabe smiling with messy curls.
Caption: “Sweet, soft, and a little bit trouble 🇧🇷🍫.”
loving the description of Charles! "cuts to Charles lying on your kitchen counter eating strawberries dramatically." So on point for him. Always dramatic!
“Crunchy. Classy. A little dramatic.” does sum George up!
synopsis. you're a phd student studying communication in high stress sports environments, you couldn't possibly meet the love of your life in an f1 paddock, right? right?
warnings. some hate comments
note. i am not dead (yet) (i kinda want to write some smaus for toto)
I am writing a PhD dissertation on communication in high stress sports environments at the University of Vienna. I think that F1 is the perfect case study for this research. Team radios have to be clear, concise, and communicated within seconds.
I am reaching out to ask if there's any possibility of collaborating with the Mercedes AMG PETRONAS F1 Team to gain access to anonymised and/or archival data that I can use for my research. The research is purely academic, and I would not publish any data that could compromise strategy.
Mercedes PR unfortunately cannot provide paddock passes with the level of access you would need to conduct your research. We have forwarded your inquiry to Mr Wolff.
Your research sounds very interesting. Mercedes would be happy to host you for some race weekends. We, obviously, cannot provide you full access, but we will provide as much access as possible for you to complete your research.
Before you attend your first race weekend, I would like to hear some more about your research. I will be in Vienna on Thursday and Friday the coming week. I suggest that we have a meeting Thursday at noon to discuss your research and the kind of access you would need to complete your research.
Sincerely,
Toto Wolff
mercedesamgf1
liked by kimi.antonelli, georgerussell63 and 697,403 others
mercedesamgf1 Kimi and George are ready to race at Monza 🏎️🇮🇹
tagged: kimi.antonelli & georgerussell63
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user1 FORZA KIMI!! 🇮🇹
user2 good luck out there!!
user3 we're all rooting for you 🫶🏻
kimi.antonelli LET'S GO TEAM 🏎️
user4 i love you kimi
user5 you can do it this race ❤️
user6 we believe in you FORZA KIMI 🇮🇹
user7 manifesting p1 and p2
user8 p1 for kimi and p2 for george
user9 p1 for george and p2 for kimi ‼️
user10 it's literally kimi's home race, he deserves p1
POST-MONZA PRESS CONFERENCE, SUNDAY SEPT. 7TH
SECRETARY welcome to this press conference after the Italian Grand Prix. We'll now open up the room for questions from the press.
INTERVIEWER this question is for Toto Wolff. There was a girl in the Mercedes garage today, she seemed very comfortable with the team. Who is she?
TOTO she's a PhD student. She emailed me a couple of weeks ago, to ask if she could use the team radios for her research. I told her that she could, which is why she's here today.
INTERVIEWER will she attend other races this season?
TOTO she has expressed a wish to attend other races, and of course is she welcome to attend as many races as she needs to collect the data she needs to complete her PhD.
yn
liked by yfn1, yfn2 and 265 others
yn this is still so surreal
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user11 girl, how did you do that
yn i literally just emailed toto wolff
user11 and he just gave you full access?
yn he gave me access to the material i need and to the archive
user12 yn once again proving that she's better than all of us
user13 you could've done the same thing stop being jealous
yfn1 when are you taking us 🙂
yn i don't think i'm allowed to
yfn2 you go girl!
mercedesamgf1
liked by yn, georgerussell63 and 708,493 others
mercedesamgf1 Did you know that there are many roles you can have at Mercedes AMG Petronas F1 team? From race engineer to mechanic, to more office based jobs like social media admin or HR. There's even space for academics.
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user14 omg, merc can you sponsor paddock passes for me??
user15 sponsor mine too, please!!
kimi.antonelli 🏎️
user16 so if i email toto wolff, i'll get paddock access
mercedesamgf1 That is unfortunately not how it works, but we wish it was ☺️ We are always happy to support academic ventures, so if you're working on something that relates to Formula 1, you're welcome to send an e-mail, and we'll be happy to see if there's anything we can do to help.
user17 merc supporting academics >>>
user18 this is why mercedes >> redbull
user19 redbull wasn't even mentioned, there was no reason to bring them up
yn thank you so much for having me!!
mercedesamgf1 It's been lovely to have you in the garage. Your insights are always appreciated! 🩵
georgerussell63 it's been a pleasure, yn ☺️
georgerussell63
liked by mercedesamgf1, yn, and 543,594 others
georgerussell63 snippets from summer break ☀️
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user20 why is this man ALWAYS shirtless
user21 girl, that's just george russell
user22 idk what else you expect from him
yn i'm so jealous
user23 no, i'm jealous of YOU
georgerussell63 you could've joined 😉
yn you forget that phd's don't pay that well
georgerussell63 i could've paid?
alex_albon guys guys please
alex_albon i paid for that dinner, by the way 🙂↕️
georgerussell63 and i thank you for that
mercedesamgf1 we've missed you in the paddock!! 🩵
georgerussell63 ready to get back to racing 🏎️
yn
liked by georgerussell63, yfn, and 3,213 others
yn PhD grind, missing the paddock 🏎️
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mercedesamgf1 the paddock missed you too 🩵
yn 🩵
user24 oh she's pretty pretty
user25 well, now we know why toto lets her use mercedes team radios
user26 girl, he has a wife and child
user27 insane comment
yn some thoughts are inside thoughts, and some are outside thoughts; that was an inside thought 🙂
user28 oh, she's sassy i love her
georgerussell63 you'll be at zandvoort right?
yn yes, i'll be there
georgerussell63 good 🩵
user29 GEORGE??
yfn so so proud of you, bestie 🫶🏻
yn 🫶🏻
f1wagsgossip
liked by user35, user36, and 12,321 others
f1wagsgossip George Russell has recently been seen talking to PhD student yn yln. yn is a PhD student studying communication in high-stress sports environments. For the past months, she has been attending races to study radio communication. Does the recent increase in communication between George and yn mean anything? Are we getting a new WAG?
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user30 you people create drama from nothing
user31 george is just a nice guy though
user32 right?? they're probably just friends
user33 no, please, george dating the academic would be so cute
user34 toto wolff: ceo, team principal, unwitting match-maker
user35 can't people just be friends?
user36 apparently not
user37 it would be so cute though
user38 for all we know yn has a boyfriend
user39 yeah, his name is george russell
user40 don't make that mistake george, academics are boring
user41 he's a grown man?? he can decide this for himself
user42 girl…
user43 this is not the serve you thought it was
yn
liked by georgerussell63, kimi.antonelli and 2,543 others
yn mercedes garage/hospitality review: company 10/10, food 2/10, considering defecting to ferrari at this point
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user44 that pic of george is so boyfriend coded
kimi.antonelli i agree ITALIIIIAA 🇮🇹
mercedesamgf1 kimi…
georgerussell63 i think your company is also a 10/10
user45 oh my god, guys!!
yn i thought you enjoyed my company more 😔
georgerussell63 oh, i do i enjoy it very much
yn maybe you'd like to enjoy it over dinner?
georgerussell63 i would
user46 IT'S HAPPENING EVERYONE STAY CALM
mercedesamgf1 😐 - toto wolff
yn sorry toto
user47 yn is my favourite thing about this f1 season
georgerussell63
liked by mercedesamgf1, yn and 549,534 others
georgerussell63 🩵
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user48 GUYS???
user49 you thought you could just hide the SOFT LAUNCH
user49 well you were WRONG
user50 WHO IS THE GIRL
user51 you're gonna think i'm insane, but yn
yn no, you're right, that is insane
kimi.antonelli totally insane
user52 less soft launch more hard launch
yn i feel like i should've been informed
georgerussell63 weren't you? i'm sure i told you
user53 you're just a random girl merc invited, stop acting like you know the drivers personally, it's embarrassing for you
yn god forbid a girl makes friends with people she meets through work
user54 sassy yn strikes again, my favourite
mercedesamgf1 yn…
yn i'm not a wag, please let me be as sassy as i want
mercedesamgf1 we can't wait to meet her, george!!
yn.priv
liked by georgerussell63, alex_albon and 29 others
yn.priv my favourite person in the entire world 🫶🏻
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georgerussell63 i know you have better pictures of me
yn.priv but you look cute in them
georgerussell63 darling :(
yn.priv well, i wasn't about to post a shirtless picture of you
alex_albon CALLED IT, YOU ALL OWE ME €20
kimi.antonelli AND YOU OWE ME €40
lando this was an expensive bet to take part in
carlossainz55 you started it
charles_leclerc pay up landoooo
georgerussell63 you bet on me and yn?
alex_albon yes, i bet that it would take six months
kimi.antonelli i bet five or more
lando i bet that it would never happen
yn unbelievable
yfn i'm so so happy for you!!
yn i'm happy too
yfn2 who would've thought that emailing mercedes would lead to finding your boyfriend
georgerussell63 i'm very happy it did
yn i'm happy that it did too
georgerussell63
liked by mercedesamgf1, yn and 583,954 others
georgerussell63 surprise 🥳 meet yn, my girlfriend (and the love of my life, but don't tell her that because she'll get an even bigger ego)
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user55 GEORGE IS DATING THE MERC PHD STUDENT?
user56 i'm so jealous
user57 george william russell how dare you hide this from us
user58 this is so cute 🥰
user59 huh, so all the delulu girlies on here were right
user60 i hate to admit it, but it seems like they were
susie_wolff you should both come over for dinner soon!!
yn we'd love to!!
georgerussell63 absolutely!
user61 imagine 😭 being invited to dinner with the wolffs 😭 some people really have it all 😭
yn "an even bigger ego" what are you suggesting russell
kimi.antonelli that you have a big ego 👍
georgerussell63 thank you kimi that was very helpful
hi!!! I love ur writing!! I wanted to request smth :3
What if reader randomly said something really ominous, like "what would you do if I died tomorrow" (nothing is happening she just said it randomly)
How would the batboys react?
“what would you do if i died tomorrow?”
Thank you for the request, anon! This was angsty and I feel so bad for my poor Batboys. I hope this was angsty enough for you!
and five heart attacks later, the batboys learn not to underestimate your random thoughts
DICK GRAYSON — “don’t say things like that, sweetheart.”
He chokes on his coffee. Like—genuinely sputters and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand while staring at you, half concerned, half scandalized. “Why would you even say that?” he manages after a beat, voice high and nervous. He tries to laugh it off, but you can see his hand tremble slightly as he reaches for you. He’s smiling, but his eyes are glassy, his brain already spinning into panic territory. You meant it as a joke, but Dick’s already replaying every patrol in his head, wondering if he’s missed something, if you’ve gotten threats, if he’s missed you needing him. He doesn’t stop hugging you for the rest of the day—“Just in case,” he murmurs when you tease him about it.
JASON TODD — “that’s not funny, doll.”
Jason freezes mid-bite, fork hovering halfway to his mouth, expression caught between “what the hell?” and “don’t you dare joke like that.” He doesn’t say anything for a solid five seconds, just stares at you like you’ve offended his entire bloodline. Then he sets the fork down very slowly, leans forward on his elbows, and goes, “Who do I need to shoot for you to say something like that?” His tone is rough, but there’s something fragile in his eyes. You laugh it off, tell him it’s just a thought, but he doesn’t laugh. He ends up making you promise you’ll text him when you get home, when you wake up, when you breathe. The next morning there’s a bouquet of flowers on your counter with no note, but the card tucked inside says, don’t ever say that again.
TIM DRAKE — “i can’t tell if you’re joking or if i need to call alfred.”
Tim’s typing something on his laptop when you say it, and he freezes—hands still on the keyboard, blinking at the screen as your words register. “Wait—what?” he asks, eyes darting up like he’s afraid he misheard. You repeat it, casual as anything, and he immediately looks like he hasn’t slept in three days (which, to be fair, might be true). “That’s—why would you say that? Are you feeling okay? Did something happen?” He’s pulling up a new tab before you can answer, probably trying to calculate your average life expectancy or some other horrifyingly analytical thing. You have to physically take the laptop away from him and remind him that you’re fine, that you just had a weird thought. He doesn’t relax until you’re in his arms and he can hear your heartbeat for himself.
DAMIAN WAYNE — “i would avenge you, obviously.”
He looks offended. “That is a ridiculous hypothetical,” he says flatly, brows furrowing. You grin and tell him it’s just a question, but he’s already crossing his arms, glaring like you’ve personally insulted his honor. “I would, of course, avenge you. Thoroughly.” You snort, but he’s serious—like, serious. He starts listing possible suspects and security upgrades before you have to interrupt him with a kiss to shut him up. Damian huffs, muttering something about “mortals and their strange morbidity,” but later that night, when he thinks you’re asleep, his hand finds yours under the sheets. He squeezes it tight. Just in case.
BRUCE WAYNE — “don’t.”
He goes completely still. You’ve seen him freeze in board meetings and during stakeouts, but this—this is different. His jaw tightens. His hand, which was resting over yours, curls into a fist. “Why would you ask that?” he says quietly, but there’s something raw in his tone—something that betrays how fast his mind’s running. You try to laugh it off, say it was just a thought, but Bruce doesn’t find it funny. He’s already cataloging your health, your stress levels, the number of times you’ve come home late. That night, he doesn’t go to patrol right away. Instead, he lies beside you in bed, holding you closer than usual, thumb tracing slow circles on your arm. When you fall asleep, he whispers, so softly you barely hear it: “Don’t ever leave me like that. Not without warning.”
He cancels, he reschedules, he cancels again. Not sure if this is the relationship you want to sign up for, you take up your roommates offer to set you up with her friend. It’s awkward, it’s quiet; it’s nothing like how it is with Dick. But, as you get cornered on your way home you’re left confiding in a man you never would have expected.
warnings - reader gets held at gunpoint, dramatic and pouty dickie, angsty-ish nothing like too bad just a lil self doubt but it does mean idk how to tag this teehee
wc - 2.3k
“Again?” Your roommate doesn’t even attempt to hide her annoyance as you walk out of your room, dressed up and clearly upset as your excitement for the evening gets stolen with a brief and, unfortunately, expected call. So expected no words are needed to even share the news. “What did he say this time?”
You frown before you answer her. At first, you’d been more than understanding, with a family emergency arising, his brothers needing his help, hurting himself and being bedridden for a few days, you’d taken each cancellation with only a small amount of disappointment. How were you, someone he had only seen a few times, to stop him from being that man that made you say yes to first date anyway?
But today, after four reschedules and a promise that he will be there, there was no reason just an, admittedly apologetic, whisper of I can’t. I just, a breath that forced you to hold yours, I can’t.
“Nothing.” You tell your roommate, sitting beside her at the table, “He didn’t even ask to do it another night. I should take that as a ‘he doesn’t want to see me’, right?”
“He’s an idiot.”
“No—”
“Don’t defend him.” She warns, pointing a finger in your face. “I know you like him; I know you had high hopes for this but I’m not watching you get attached to someone that’s going to hurt you more than he already has.” She glances at her phone, “You’ve still got the reservation right? I think I have the perfect person for you.”
What were you thinking? Your date, a date you’d been looking forward to for a while now, cancels and you’re subbing someone else in for that exact date? You watch the man opposite you, nervously playing with the napkin, his shirt collar up—despite the fact you’d quietly told him about it three times now—and a red stain on his tie where he’d spilled his wine on his first sip. Was this how you wanted to stop thinking about Dick?
He'd been so charming from the moment you’d met him. He’d made you laugh, he’d hold himself with confidence and grace and hold your hand to his side as he walked you around Gotham, refusing for the night to end because your company was so intoxicating the last thing he wanted was to be anywhere else. And then there’s this man, who let the door shut on you as the two of you walked into the restaurant and pronounced your surname so horribly wrong when talking to the hostess.
What were you thinking?
You split the bill at the end of dinner, his decision but you don’t complain; it felt right knowing you would never willingly see this man again.
“That was nice.” He comments as you leave. “We should—” His smile drops and his words disappear; a wide eyes expression of fear stealing every emotion from him.
“Don’t move.” You glance over his shoulder, your eyes meeting another set holding more crazy than you’d ever encountered. “Give me your watch.” Your date doesn’t move for a second, the conflicting instructions short circuiting his brain but his body flinches; it’s then you realise he’s got a weapon pointed to his back, one currently being forced against his skin harder and harder until he shakily unstraps his watch and drops it to the criminal’s open hand. “Your wallet.” He orders next; it’s handed to him with no hesitation this time.
The mugger pockets both stolen items, stepping away from your date and closer to you. He raises his weapon; your blood runs cold as you stare at the tip of his handgun; your breathing hitches in your throat. “Got anything nice in there?” He asks, pointing to your handbag with the gun you cannot take your eyes off. You instinctively take a step back; he follows you.
You don’t say a word as you dig through the contents of your bag. Your purse, your phone, a pair of earrings that had got uncomfortable during dinner that you’d subtly tucked in unnoticed. Grabbing all three in a fist, you’re about to hand it over when you look up and see, both surprised and not at all, your date halfway down the alley. Running away.
Open mouthed, clutching precious belongings and amazed someone so pathetic had made it so long in Gotham, you glance back to the burglar. He’s come closer during your distraction, “Hand. It. Over.” You feel the gun touch your forehead; he had no care for the man that escaped. “Now!” You squeak as you flinch, his voice and the feel of the cold metal bringing angry tears to your eyes yet all you can think is, today would be different if Dick was here.
Sniffling, you bring your shaking hands from your bag, holding your things as trying not to look at the face you’re afraid will be the last you’ll ever see.
He appears from the shadows, his body colliding with the gunman before either of you can register he’s even there and, hitting the wall with the bigger man’s weight forcing him against the brick with a loud crack. Your attacker crumbles to the floor, quiet groans coming from him as he cradles his evidently broken arm to his chest.
Nightwing turns to you and you’re not sure if you’re stuck in silence because of what just happened to you or if you’re just too starstruck to speak. Despite your years in Gotham, this is your first time encountering any of the well known heroes this close.
“Are you okay?” You drop your things back into your bag, tightly gripping the strap as you nod, a tear dropping from your eyes as they meet his. “Okay, no. You can be shaken up, that was scary.” He starts to reason; approaching you softly and ignoring the further groaning from his victim. “Are you alone?”
You take a deep breath in hopes of steadying yourself. “Well, my date ran away so—”
“Your date?” His tone is a little more aghast than you’re expecting.
“Yeah, he sucks I get it. But there’s a fifty-fifty chance of dating a psychopath when you live in Gotham so sometimes the coward is the safe option.” You wave a hand, wiping under you eye grateful nothing else has seemed to escape. Another deep breath and you feel a little more yourself already. “It’s funny though, gun to my head my first thought was that this wouldn’t happen with the other guy I’m seeing.” You force a laugh but the words don’t feel great to say.
“Another guy!” Pausing, you watch Nightwing for a moment, your fear and nerves being replaced with, definitely misplaced, anger when you see the look of disgust? Confusion? Hurt? On his face.
“Are you judging me right now?” You scoff, turning your back on the vigilante, “You know nothing about me but you’re judging me for going on a date?” Starting to walk away from him, you feel something burning in your throat desperate to be set free and you spin on your heels, jamming a finger into his chest and glaring up at him. “For your information, Nightwing, I’m only here because the guy I want to see, the guy I stupidly, really fucking like, obviously doesn’t want to see me again. And, in trying to not let myself get hung up on a man, I got held at gunpoint and judged by a guy in spandex.”
“Spandex! This is high quality—” He raises a hand to his ear, “Will you stop laughing!”
“Now, if everything is sorted here.” You glance at your attacker, still curled in pain on the floor, “I’m going home and never leaving it again.” Turning again, you do walk away from him this time. Your arms crossed across your chest, holding your jacket close to you as your adrenaline finally wears off and you feel the chilling cut of the night breeze.
“Wait!” You hear; you make no effort to stop. “Just wait a sec.” The sound of his feet hitting the ground follow you as he softly jogs to catch up with you—he likely didn’t even need to put too much effort in to do so. “Let me walk you home, at least.”
“I’m fine.”
“You had a gun in your face.”
“Thanks for the reminder.” You roll your eyes.
“Just to near your building then. It’d make me feel better.” He stands beside you as he searches your face for any type of reaction. You frown; he tenses.
“Fine.” You huff, starting to walk again not paying any attention to whether he follows you or not.
It’s silent for a while; you’ve made it at least halfway home and found yourself weirdly comfortable around the man. Until he decides to open his mouth again.
“So, this guy.” Nightwing clasps his hands behind his back as he walks, the brief silence clearly becoming too much for him. “How do you know he doesn’t want to see you?”
“What?” You turn to him, “That’s the conversation you have in you?” He just watches you as the two of you walk along; you sigh, deciding this might be your only opportunity for some unbiased help. “Well, we’ve only been on two dates, but I thought they were great. He was charming, funny, handsome; I really liked him, and I thought he liked me too,” You shiver slightly, pulling your jacket tighter around you. “Then he started cancelling the next date, and I tried to be nice about it but, the most recent time, it felt more like an ‘I don’t want to’. There are reasons and then there are excuses.”
“You don’t think he has reasons?”
“I just don’t think he’s looking for the same thing as me and doesn’t know how to let me know, y’know. I think I came on too strong from the beginning and ruined it before it even started.”
“What if you’re wrong?” Nightwing asks you softly, inching closer to you. You look to where your arms almost brush, but you don’t step away. “What if it’s not an excuse; what if it’s just something he can’t tell you yet?”
“So, I should stick around just in case he’s what, got a secret like yours?” His step stutters; he almost trips beside you. He clears his throat as he steadies himself and you can’t fight the laugh that slips from you.
“Would this,” He gestures to himself, masked face observing yours, “change anything?”
Thinking, you watch him for a second, turning back to the path ahead of you as you let you mind wander to Dick Grayson. “Yeah,” You admit, “I mean, I already want to stick around but if the reasoning for him being so cryptic and flaky was him saving Gotham I think I’d fall in love on the spot.” Nightwing falls silent beside you. “Well, thank you for being my soundboard, I feel a lot better about everything, surprisingly.”
“Good.” His voice is breathy and soft. “I should,” He clears his throat again. “Get back to—”
“Go vigilante, Vigilante.” Staring at you for another second, he smiles softly and turns to run back in the direction you had come; you hear the soft clang of metal on metal in the distance, and he whizzes upwards, back into the shadows. You smile, looking in his direction unable to find him, before you turn back to where you need to be, walking the few minutes left back to your apartment building.
Your roommate is asleep when you quietly lock the door behind you; you’ll update her on everything the next morning when you’ve had time to wrap your head around how, not only, Nightwing saving you but the strange, and weirdly helpful, talk he’d had with you that made you realise one thing for certain.
Dick Grayson is worth the wait.
The next morning, too early, you’re awoken to the sound of the doorbell. You know your friend is a much heavier sleeper than you and that, as the bell rings a second time whilst you’re throwing on something a little more presentable than your sheer pyjamas, whoever this is isn’t going to leave without an answer.
You wipe your tired eyes as you sleepily walk to the front door, drawing back the bolt and pulling the door open as far as the chain will let you. “Dick?” You’re not certain you’re seeing him right; you close the door again quickly, pulling the chain free and opening it wider to the man that had infiltrated your dream the night before.
“Hi,” He stand before you with a soft smile, a small bouquet of white lilies in one hand, a bag dangling from the wrist of his other and two take out cups of coffee, in a carrier, haphazardly rested on his palm. “Sorry, I know it’s early I just,” He looks away, rocking on his heels and clearing his throat. “I’m sorry. I know I’m not what you want or what you deserve, really, but I don’t want to lose out on something real. I can’t promise I won’t have to cancel again but I can promise I’m serious about this, about you, and I’m all in if you are.”
“I went on a date last night.” You blink at him immediately feeling the guilt of it being known hit your chest. Dick swallows softly. “It was terrible,” You offer a laugh to help the tone of conversation, “I decided that I was delusional and what I saw in you was just false hope but I had a little heart to heart too, with Nightwing, of all people.” Reaching in front of you, you take the bouquet off of him, smelling the flowers gently as you bring them close to you. You step aside and beckon him in with a nod of your head. “I’ll tell you about it as long as there’s pancakes in that bag.”
Jason’s known you for a year now, a year that’s turned his life into something brighter, something more than it ever was. It’s as if he’s a star, suddenly glowing with a light he didn’t know he had, basking in the warmth of it all.
But Jason’s family doesn’t know yet. He hasn’t told them about you. You’re tucked away from them, like the Polaroid he keeps of the two of you at the fair, hidden in his wallet. Like the black-and-white photo of you curled up next to him on the couch, cup in hand, dozing off—his home screen, a little secret he holds close.
Right now, in the manor’s kitchen, Jason angles his phone away from the one person who’s in the room—Alfred—as he hurriedly types a message to you. His fingers glide across the screen, almost too fast, as if he can’t get your words to him fast enough. But then, Alfred speaks, his voice soft yet pointed.
“How long have you known them?”
Jason looks up quickly, eyes meeting Alfred’s. The older man’s lips curl into a gentle, knowing smile, and it only deepens when he adds, “You smile at your phone whenever they text you. I also believe you’ve set a special ringtone just for them.”
Jason’s cheeks flush pink as he tries to hide his reaction, fumbling for words.
“A year,” he blurts, clearing his throat. “I’ve known them for a year. They asked me out. We’ve been together for a few months now.”
Alfred leans in a little, his curiosity piqued. “Mm? A year?” He raises an eyebrow, his smile widening.
Jason scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, eyes darting back to his phone. “Yeah, a year. And now we’re together.”
Alfred’s eyes soften. “Can I meet them?”
If Jason had been asked this before, his answer would’ve been a definite no—protective, defensive. You were his safe place, his home, and the thought of introducing you to his complicated family was terrifying. But now? With Alfred asking, it doesn’t feel so scary. It doesn’t feel scary at all.
The thought of you meeting one of the most important people in his life doesn’t seem nearly as daunting as it used to. In fact, it feels right.
Jason looks up, eyes meeting Alfred’s, and his answer is soft but certain.
𖥔 ✴️ . ノ His brothers like to crash at your place . . .
with JASON TODD ◜ content ⸝⸝ short n' sweet . i didn't mention the girls :( ! ୧ head empty just batfamily ♡
It's quiet when you both turn in to sleep ― warm, comfortable ... shielded from the filth of Gotham. His heavy duty and your deep-rooted fears, far from your guys mind. Your face is turned towards his, head nestled comfortably under his chin, and ... Jason breathes softly, in n' out ... It's calm ... quiet ... Maybe even a little too quiet ? You hear the faint noise of the city below your apartment complex and all the way down the streets. Traffic, sirens ― it's all a familiar sound that would usually lull you right to sleep. Even the light rumbling of your partners' chest ― not quite snoring, but something close ― normally has you knocked out in under five minutes. But ...
The doorbell. It's a sharp tone in the otherwise silent apartment, that has your eyes wide open again, and Jason on his last nerve. You hear him sigh. Annoyed, yes, but also in a way that tells you ― he has an idea of who that might be. It's still dark, and you can barely see just what he's really doing, but you feel how he peels his side of the blanket away, muttering something like 'jus' sleep, i'll check' which is barely audible by how sleep drunken he sounds. Then, he's already out of the bedroom, lazily walking towards the door, already dreading which bat will greet him at such an hour ...
When he finally opens it, it's ... Richard Grayson, grinning. The sight has another heavy sigh escape him. "Yeah?" Jason liked to pretend that it was unusual for his brothers to show up ― which it wasn't. He also liked to pretend that he never lets them stay ― but he does. And it ― embarrassingly so ― never even takes that long to convince him. When asked, though, Jason claims it's because he rather gets right back to sleep than argue with any of his brothers.
Everyone believes him. Not.
So, Jason just steps aside and lets a much too triumphal looking Dick crash on the couch.
You hear them talk, hushed, comfortable, and soon enough, Jason is back in your bedroom, making sure to close the door behind him as he crawls back to you and underneath the sheets. "S' he okay?" You ask softly, shifting back into your previous position, flush against his chest as you breathe out, content. You're used to Richard coming over and crashing, so you're more concerned on why. Wouldn't be the first time he came over bloodied and beaten, much more eager to let you patch him up than have the batman give him a lecture. "He's fine. Will be gone in the morning."
'He doesn't want to deal with Bruce today' is what he wants to say, but he doesn't want his father to be the last thing he thinks about before going back to sleep. So he just presses a kiss against your forehead and tells you to go back to sleep.
You do, for maybe a minute, then there's a loud crash somewhere, and you're obviously wide awake again. This time, Jason doesn't even pretend to 'go check' because it's one of two people ― and he has this vague idea that it must be Tim, by how stupid his landing was. Probably came through the wrong window and fell right into that new Vase you bought.
Great.
You quietly follow behind when he leaves the bedroom again. You carry a blanket and a smaller pillow that you know is more comfortable than whatever pillows you keep in the living room, handing both to a drowsy Dick when he opens one eye ― not even bothering to check what caused such a loud noise in your guys' apartment. He just thanks you, turns around and goes right back to snoring. It's sweet, you think, how he feels more at ease here, than the large Mansion of his father...
"Go home, Tim," You hear your boyfriend mutter and follow his voice to the kitchen. His brows are furrowed as he watches the boy ― still glad in his suit ― try and puzzle the vase back together. "It's fine, we'll clean it tomorrow..." you find yourself saying, offering the kid a reassuring smile when he sheepishly lets it all fall back together. You know why he's here ― Jason knows too... and it goes without saying that he, too, is always allowed to stay. Even when Jay plays the annoyed older brother, grumbling and huffing when you show Tim the foldable sofa in your bedroom ( the one you guys bought specifically for nights like this ... )
He gets the last spare blanket, and a pillow, and he's good to go, bright smile and rosy cheeks when he thanks you so genuinely, you almost tear up a little. Your boyfriend grunts something about it being 'the last damn time' and Tim just nods. It won't be the last time. Jason acts like his brothers are intruding ― you know better.
Then everything slowly settles. It gets quiet again, there is the occasional shifting of blankets and pillows ― but, everyone seems asleep. Jason is cuddled against you, you can hear the faint snoring of Dick, and even Tim smacks his lips in deep content.
Yet, you can't help but feel like something is still not right. And like the universe agrees with you because ― of course, someone is still missing ― you hear the noise of your window being shoved open, with careful, skillful little hands... and soon enough, a smaller body wedges itself right between you and Jason as if it belongs. You don't say anything, and neither does he ― Damian Wayne fits right in the middle, barely three apples, yet he gets comfortable as if he owns the place. And you know Jason is rolling his eyes, deeply annoyed and beyond done with having so many siblings seeking him out when he just wants to spend time at his apartment with his partner. But even he is quiet and settles easy, his arm lazily thrown over his youngest brother and you, shifting the blanket so that all three of you are warm.
It's the sounds of a full apartment that finally lets you find comfortable sleep ― the warmth of two bodies right next to you ( of which the smaller keeps his hand laced with yours, as if you would ever even dare leave during the night ).
When morning comes, your sofa is empty, the vase glued back together and one demon child can't even look at you because he knows you're aware he's been clinging. He's embarrassed, you ruffle his hair, and together with Jason you bring him back to the Manor. You know it won't be the last time... and you honestly don't mind.
someone take " ... " away from me / i wrote this for myself honestly ―
I love the idea of Jason being the centre of the family in that way. He holds himself apart. Holding them at arm's length. So they just duck under and wrap themselves around him anyway
summary: you and Oscar slowly reveal your two-year relationship and the internet loses its mind over it
note: just to clarify, i do NOT hate Lando and Magui's relationship as it's none of my business. i just used the internet's reaction for the smau
ENJOY (pls it was painful to edit 🥲)
oscarpiastri
liked by lando, mclaren, and 389k others
oscarpiastri summer so far 🌞
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yourbff
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yourbff queen is back and so are the vlogss 🎬
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oscarpiastri posted a story!
[caption: I guess I have a child now]
yourusername
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yourusername i am a mother now 🥰
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yourusername
liked by yourbff, oscarpiastri, username and 4k others
yourusername enjoying life ❤️
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oscarpiastri
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oscarpiastri great weekend 🏆 ready for another
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yourusername
liked by yourbff, mclaren, username and 7k others
yourusername Percy's first race 🧡 also congrats @mclaren and @oscarpiastri 🏆
it was lovely to meet you all! and thank you Rosie for the little message 🥰
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mclaren lovely to have you with us 🧡
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mclaren
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mclaren our favorite duo 🧡
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oscarpiastri
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oscarpiastri great race 🏎️ see u next week
yourusername posted a story!
[caption 1: good luck 🧡, caption 2: long day]
yourusername
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yourusername secured another p1 🧡 u go angel
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username Percyy ❤️
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yourusername
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yourusername cursed n blessed 💜
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yourbff
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yourbff on babysitting duty 🩷
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yourusername & oscarpiastri
liked by mclaren, yourbff, lando and 700k others
yourusername graduated n got married 😜
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↳ lando PARDON
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yourbff can't believe you're literally MARRIED.. to an F1 DRIVER
❤️ by oscarpiastri
yourbff what is our life 😭
↳ yourusername chaotic. it'll always be chaotic
f1 congratulations! 🎉 can't wait to see u in the paddock tomorrow
username how many secrets do u guys have?
↳ yourusername a lot my love, a lot
username i can't believe my fav driver got married 😭 to a farmer of all people
↳ username to an engineer too don't forget
username1 HA I WAS RIGHT ALL ALONG
❤️ by yourusername
username she got a degree and a husband while i can't get a man to text me back 💀
↳ username same babe
oscarpiastri what else do you have on that list of yours?
↳ yourusername well.. steal osc's last name? ✅ get a dog with osc? ✅ get a degree in engineering to impress osc? ✅ watch osc win wdc? i can check that off atp
↳ oscarpiastri you're a menace. i love it
↳ username u guys are making me sick
↳ username "steal osc's last name?" 😭😭
↳ lando take professional pictures of lando this weekend FOR FREE should be on there
↳ yourusername u won't let it go will u?
↳ lando nope 😁
username they started dating like 2 months ago and are already getting married?
↳ username we don't know how long they've been dating
↳ yourusername 2 months? more like 29
↳ username excuse you? how long?
↳ username 29?! how did we not notice 😭
↳ username u guys are secretive holy shit
username they're such an unexpected combo ngl. he's quiet, she's loud. he races, she lives on a farm. like.. how
↳ username1 that's why it works. they complete each other. she is the color and buzz in his life while he is the calm and quiet she seeks at the end of the day
Hey :D I really like reading your work. You're really good at writing.
Have you heard about the tiktok trend that's like the person filming asking their s/o "why aren't you holding my hand?" While the s/o obviously has their hands full? Can i request that?
Why aren’t you holding my hand?
pairing: all drivers on the grid x girlfriend!reader
summary: you try out that TikTok trend where you pout and ask your boyfriend, “Why aren’t you holding my hand?” —never mind that his hands are clearly full.
note: hi, I hope you like it! I decided not to include all the pilots with things in their hands. I hope I fulfilled your idea 💛
Red Bull
Max Verstappen
He's carrying like three cases of Red Bull when you ask him. "Why aren't you holding my hand?"
He raises an eyebrow without even looking. "Because I physically can't, schat."
Then he puts a box down just to hold your hand… for half a second. "There. Happy now?"
Yuki Tsunoda
He's struggling with a ripped grocery bag. "Why aren't you holding my hand?"
He looks at you like a bro, really? "BECAUSE I'M SAVING THE GROCERIES!"
And then he grabs your hand with a potato chip still in the other.
Ferrari
Charles Leclerc
Carrying his helmet, his backpack, and a coffee. "Why aren't you holding my hand?"
"My love, look at me!" He picks up everything he's holding.
He puts down his coffee, doesn't even flinch, shakes your hand, and smiles: "There. Priorities."
The Ferrari team behind him: "CHARLES. THE COFFEE!"
Lewis Hamilton
He's recording an Instagram story about sustainability. "Why aren't you holding my hand?"
He smiles at you while still recording: "Give me a second, love."
He finishes the video, puts down his phone, and laughs: "Now this is more important."
McLaren
Lando Norris
He has a bottle of water in one hand and a burrito in the other. "Why aren't you holding my hand?"
"Because I'm feeding myself, babe."
Even so, he offers you half of the burrito: "We can share, though."
Oscar Piastri
He's deep in thought on his laptop, reviewing data. "Why aren't you holding my hand?"
Without taking his eyes off: "Because I'm working."
Five seconds later, he sighs, pauses the video, and takes your hand. “There. Data can wait.”
Racing Bulls
Isack Hadjar
Playing on his Switch. “Why aren’t you holding my hand?”
“Because I’m about to win this race!”
He loses. He looks at you with a tragic expression. “You owe me a rematch and a kiss.”
Liam Lawson
He’s cleaning his car, literally with his hands full of soap. “Why aren’t you holding my hand?”
“Because it’s either your hand or the car’s paint, babe.”
Still, he nudges you with his elbow and winks.
Mercedes
George Russell
In perfect posture, closing his smartwatch. “Why aren’t you holding my hand?”
“Oh, darling—give me a moment, I’m tracking my step count.”
He finishes with a smile: “Okay, now let’s hold hands while we get our cardio in.”
Kimi Antonelli
Instantly blushes. “Why aren’t you holding my hand?”
“Um— I— I was going to!”
He drops what he was holding and immediately takes your hand. He literally stands there, stiff but happy.
Aston Martin
Lance Stroll
He’s on the ground fixing something on the bike. “Why aren’t you holding my hand?”
He looks up with a small smile: “Because I’m trying not to die when I ride this thing later.”
He finishes quickly and then pulls you up with him: “Okay, now come here.”
Fernando Alonso
Struggling with a toolbox. “Why aren’t you holding my hand?”
He laughs. “My love, unless you want me to drop this on my foot…”
He drops everything and approaches with that smile of his. “Better now?”
Williams
Alex Albon
His hands are full of snacks. Literally. “Why aren’t you holding my hand?”
“Because if I let go, I’ll drop the chips— WAIT.”
He hands you a bag and takes your hand in the other. “Teamwork, baby.”
Carlos Sainz
He’s making coffee as if it were a ritual. “Why aren’t you holding my hand?”
“Honey, if I stop now, the espresso dies.”
Still, he puts down the cup, wipes his hands, and murmurs: “For you, always.”
Haas
Ollie Bearman
Holding a giant box that clearly weighs more than he does. “Why aren’t you holding my hand?”
“Because—I—can’t—feel—my arms!”
After letting go: “Now you can have both hands, okay?”
Esteban Ocon
Organizing cables in his simulator. “Why aren’t you holding my hand?”
“No, no, no! If I move now, everything breaks.”
Two minutes later, he calls you: “Okay, now I’m ready.”
Alpine
Pierre Gasly
Looking at himself in the mirror, fixing his hair. “Why aren’t you holding my hand?”
“Because I’m busy looking for this good, chérie.”
He shakes your hand with a model-like smile: “Now we look good together.”
Franco Colapinto
He’s eating cereal straight from the box. “Why aren’t you holding my hand?”
“Because if I do, you’ll get crumbs all over you.”
Then he passes you the box: “Want some?”
Kick Sauber
Nico Hülkenberg
Reading something serious on his phone. “Why aren’t you holding my hand?"
“Because I’m trying to find where we’re going for dinner.”
He closes the app, shakes your hand, and says: “Problem solved.”
Gabriel Bortoleto
He's recording a TikTok while dancing. "Why aren't you holding my hand?"
"Because I'm in character!"
He pulls you into the video and smiles: "Now we both are."
