#its just a question of where we're going first

[lush-escape]

The Vigilante's Guide to Grief

pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

wc: 1.4k

summary: Jason's therapist recommends journaling to help him through his grieving process after your death

prev: first entry

next: denial

Stage one: Shock

Hey,

Ok that's a little easier than writing dear. It's June 11th. Sorry it's been a little while. This just feels stupid still. But I told Christy (dumb stupid therapist who told me to do this) that I would give it another try. So here I am. Trying. Unfortunately she's not that bad. That's a lie. I actually really like her. Dick came by to check on me today. Him and Kori brought over some weird tameranian dessert. I dont know. I stuck it in the fridge it looks like it might grow legs and try to bite me.

Jason rubs at his eyes, “I still have no idea what I'm supposed to write.” He mumbles a curse under his breath while running his hand through his messy hair.

I bet you would have tried it. You always liked the weirdest shit. Like the time Steph and Cass tried to make a cake for you for your birthday. Who the fuck even makes matcha and strawberry cake?

“Um, why does it look like that?” Jason eyes the questionable looking cake in front of him.

“Don't worry about how it looks!” Steph waves him off with a nervous smile.

“Do not judge a book by its cover.” Cass crosses her arms as if she's actually offended by Jason's question.

“It's good! She loves matcha and strawberries, it'll be great.”

“Okay, but like… what kind of cake flavor is it?” Jason asks.

“Coffee.” Cass replies.

Jason groans and rubs his hands down his face, “I should have just ignored both of you and gone to the bakery. This is my first time celebrating her birthday with her as her boyfriend, I can't believe I let you two talk me into this. She's going to hate me. She's going to break up with me-”

“Oh no,” Steph shoots Cass a worried glance, “He's spiraling.”

Cass narrows her eyes and smacks Jason on the back of the head earning her an annoyed “ow! What was that for?!”

“Relax. Trust us.” She says calmly.

That night when you went to Wayne Manor at Jason's invite for a special birthday dinner, he said. And when it was time for cake you were just as surprised as Jason, just on the other end of the spectrum. You stare at it unblinkingly.

“It's, listen okay-” Jason stammers, hand on the back of his neck. “I know it looks a little off and I told Steph and Cass that this was going to be a bad idea-” he rambles.

You place a gentle hand on his forearm and immediately he melts. He sighs and deflates, his thoughts stop spiraling, and suddenly everything is right in the world.

“I hate how you do that….” He whispers.

“What?” You ask with a smile.

“Just.. calm me down like that. All you have to do is touch me and it's like- like everything stops and I can think clearly.”

You smile up at him, warm and bright and like he's created the entire universe just for you.

“Come on, let's try this cake.” You tell him softly.

And despite his better judgement he does try the cake. It's different, not what he imagined, and it's good. Jason grumbles as Cass and Steph tease him for being right.

“Alright, enough of everyone's pestering. We're getting outta here.” Jason waves off the family as he takes your hand in his. You look at him and silently ask where he's taking you and he gives you a soft smile in return. He can hear Tim and Dick snickering at the loving gesture. But he ignores them as he drags you out of the manor.

“It’s a surprise.” Jason tells you quietly.

That night Jason takes you for a drive to the harbor near Brown Bridge. It's quiet and cool, the lights from the city accentuating the bridge in front of you. Water slowly laps at the shore, you can hear frogs and crickets as Jason helps you climb onto the hood of his car before taking a spot next to you.

“What'd you bring me all the way out here for?” You ask him playfully with a smile, leaning your cheek against his shoulder.

Jason wraps an arm around you, “..just wanted you for m’self.” He answers questions as his heart thuds in his chest.

“An’... I got you something. Didn't want the brats to see it.” He finally admits after a few peaceful moments of silence. You knew it was coming.

Jason reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small black box.

“It's not anything crazy, just…” He hands it over to you and he's thanking the stars that it's dark out so you can't see the way his face flushes in embarrassment.

Inside is a small, simple, heart shaped locket. Inside holds a picture of the two of you, one of your photo booth pictures - the one of you kissing Jason's cheek as he smiles. The opposite side is engraved with the day he officially asked you to be his.

“Jason…” you breathe out, touched. Heartfelt tears prick the corners of your eyes. 

Wordlessly Jason takes the locket from you and begins to fasten it around your neck.

“It's beautiful, baby.” Your fingers trace the edging of the locket, memorizing it. Jason blushes even more.

“S’not that big of a deal, calm down.” He plays it off with a smile. But even he can't deny the way his heart flutters when he sees it on you.

“Yes it is, you big softy.” You smile up at him and he mumbles something that sounds a lot like “‘m not soft”.

“Yeah, whatever.” He grumbled affectionately before pulling you back into his side.

Jason drops his pen and puts his head in his hands with a shaky sigh. The memory of your first birthday together as an official couple haunts him. He lets himself breathe for a few minutes before he picks his pen back up.

I need you here so bad right now. Not in that stupid fucking urn. I'm spiraling. Again. Sometimes I wish I could feel the same way I did right after you died. Empty. Numb. So I wouldn't have to sit with my thoughts. I was on autopilot. Freaked everyone out though. B said he’d never seen someone so emotionless while planning a funeral before. He said I was in shock. Yeah no shit.

“She doesn't want to be buried.” Jason’s flat tone made everyone on edge.

“We'll have her cremated.” Bruce’s hand is on Jason's shoulder as he looks through a catalogue of coffins and urns.

“Hm…” Jason hums. “Something nice.” His eyes are on the page but he's not really looking. He can't believe this is happening. It all feels fake to him. There's no way your body is going to fit into an urn. You're <I>you</I>, you're not supposed to be in an urn. You're supposed to be sitting on the couch, in his lap, making him watch Love Island or whatever the fuck.

“Something pretty and ornate.” Jason's eyes skim the page. “This one.” He points to a black urn engraved beautifully with stars.

Bruce nods once. He's aware of the shock Jason is in, but it still unnerves him to see his son like this.

“Of course.” He says.

“And for the service I think we should do a, uh, dessert pot luck. She loves desserts.”

Bruce notices the way Jason is still talking about you in present tense but doesn't say anything.

Jason's writing is rushed now as he's trying to get out all of his thoughts while memories of you swirl around in his head.

Christy says that's one of the worst states of grief but I miss it. God I miss you. This isn't fucking fair. None of it is. It wasn't supposed to be you you know. It was supposed to be me. It was always supposed to be me. I already died once what's one more time? I would die a hundred times over if it meant you got to stay here even if it was just for 2 fucking minutes

Jason sighs and closes his notebook. His head is a clouded mess, feels thick with cotton and heavy like lead.

“God damnit…” He pushes away from the desk and without a second thought goes to the kitchen to try that dessert from Kori and Dick. It's what you would've done, after all.

taglist: @vellichor01 @thy-crimson-king @theendofthematerialgworl @tinasdcstuff @4rachn3

[the-whole-thing-through]

Oh man :rubs hands together in glee: my fav thing, doing analysis on fictional characters about things that absolutely do not matter at all! And it just so happens that Matt's Catholicism is one of my favorite things to be a pedantic asshole about! So without further ado, let's get into it:

The Netflix show really ramped up Matt's religiosity and Catholicism. Comics Matt was never really depicted as being overtly religious or a practicing Catholic until far more recent runs which were clearly influenced by the show. Im not saying this is a bad thing, just a fact that I like to point out because, for the majority of Matt's history as a character, he isn't really religious, and its not considered a core part of his personality, unlike say, his anger and his aggression.

BUT we're talking about Show Matt here. When people talk about Matt's Catholicism and so called Catholic Guilt, its often pretty clear to me that they themselves are not Catholic or were not raised Catholic, and that they get the majority of their impressions of Catholicism from media. Show Matt is NOT depicted as being particularly devout. He was raised Catholic, and like a lot of cradle Catholics, I see him as being more "culturally" Catholic than anything. Its pretty heavily implied that as an adult Matt is not really practicing his faith. In his very first confessional scene with Father Lantom, he tells him its been a long time since his last confession. I think we can infer from that statement that the primary reason Matt is now visiting Father Lantom, when he wasn't before, is due to his internal conflict over being Daredevil, and having "the Devil inside" aka his innate aggression and thirst for violence, over any sort of deeply held religious belief.

I say "visit Father Lantom" Over going back to church, because we never get any sort of indication that Matt is actually going to Mass, or receiving the Eucharist weekly, which for Catholics, is actually a VERY big deal. We used to say in my home Parish that the church could forgive anything, except not going to Mass. True blue Catholics go to Mass every week to receive the Eucharist. You may show up in a tshirt and jeans, hungover as hell, having just cheated on your wife, but by God you went.

Of course, you could head canon that Matt does go to Mass and its just not being shown, but there isn't even a throwaway line about Matt going to church, so I think its pretty safe to say that he doesn't. Matt has a special father-son bond with Father Lantom, who he clearly respects and considers a mentor, so the confessional scenes are more about Matt seeking his advice rather than being a strict adherence to his religion, or about being actually absolved of any sin or wrongdoing.

Matt clearly doesn't adhere to the church's teachings on pre-marital sex (pssst most Catholics don't.) Not only that, but in one of his flashback scenes to his younger self, Father Lantom makes a point to call Matt out for arguing with his teacher during Catechism class. We know that as a kid at the orphanage Matt got into a lot of fights with the other kids (fights that he picked.) He was most definitely NOT the altar boy that Frank derides him as being. Matt was 100% the "bad kid" during Mass and at the orphanage. The one who argued with teachers and asked inconvenient questions. I imagine that he challenged authority and pushed back a LOT on a lot of the church's official teachings (he is a lawyer, after all.)

There are no openly queer characters on the show, so we never see Matt interact with someone who is openly gay, but there is no universe where I can picture Matt having any sort of religious conflict with homosexuality in general. Furthermore, Father Lantom is 100% a Jesuit priest, and Matt went to a Jesuit high school. Jesuits are notoriously one of the most liberal, progressive, and educated orders in the Catholic Church. Trad Caths HATE Jesuits for these reasons, and many of them consider Jesuits to be worse than non-Catholics. Zero chance that if young Matt DID have an issue with his sexuality, that Father Lantom would tell him that it was a sin, or something to be ashamed of.

But taught homophobia isn't the same as internalized homophobia, I agree. So let's get into THAT. You could easily head canon Matt as bi. The show never confirms his sexuality, other than clearly being attracted to women, and a lot of TV characters default sexuality is just "straight." I think that if Show Matt was bi, and did have any sort of internalized homophobia, it would stem from his upbringing and his relationship with his father over his religious beliefs.

Matt was raised by a single father, whom he idolized and hero worshipped. His dad was a boxer. Matt grew up practically living at Fogwell's, doing his homework in the corner while his dad trained. That's a very heavily male world, of the sort of old school masculinity that is considered uncommon and old fashioned now. He grew up in Hell's Kitchen, which in the show is considered a rough, dangerous, working class neighborhood.

Matt's dad didn't want him to grow up together be a fighter, but he clearly internalized a lot of his dad's beliefs and characteristics. Matt is a lot like his father. Don't be fooled by Charlie Cox's pretty face and cinnamon roll personality. Matt Murdock is 100% an extremely masculine, assertive, aggressive guy. An "alpha male" in the traditional connotation of the word of being a natural leader, not the redpill version. I find that a lot of fans tend to flanderize Matt from season 3 in order to turn him into a 100% soft boy (tm), but that ignores the fact that season 3 is Matt at his lowest and most vulnerable. Matt's true "default" nature, is more like the Matt we see in season 1, the person who is effortlessly confident, bordering on cocky. With season 1 Matt, its easy to see why people listen to him and follow him, despite the fact that a lot of his plans are, honestly, not the best. Its not just his fighting skills, its his entire personality. That's part of his appeal and the fascination of his character. On the surface, he is a mild-mannered, Ivy League educated attorney. He is disabled, so people tend to underestimate him. But that's not his TRUE self, which is that of a complete bruiser. Matt IS Daredevil, partly because he NEEDS the release of going out and beating people up. His innate violence and aggression have to have an "out." In Born Again, a lot of ppl have noted that Matt is significantly meaner and more of an asshole in general than he is in the OG show. Part of it is because of his grief over Foggy, yes, but it's also partly due to the fact that he no longer has that release for his pent up aggressiveness. In terms of coding and tropes, he's pretty much the definition of a masculine coded character (more on this in a sec.)

Knowing this about Matt, I think its easy to see that if he WERE attracted to men, he may have some self-identity issues, especially with the way he was brought up. You could easily explore that in fanfic, and a lot of ppl have and I think that's interesting.

Matt's sexual representation as an adult when we meet him in the Netflix show strikes me as extremely confident and sexually secure. If he did have issues surrounding sex or attraction, he's long since worked through them in college and law school. Matt is incredibly forward and direct when he is attracted to someone. He sleeps with Elektra the very first night he meets her. He flirts with Claire the first night he meets her. He very overtly flirts with Karen pretty much immediately. He clearly enjoys sex, and doesn't seem unduly burdened by sexual hang ups. Of course, we only ever see him hit on women, but I don't see anything reason to think he wouldn't be the same way with men if he was attracted to men.

There's a part II to this, but this essay was getting long. In Part II I'll discuss my fav Daredevil character, the character I see as being the most obviously queer coded in the series, Foggy Nelson

this is how it sounds when people try and connect matt's catholic guilt to his sexuality in mattfoggy fics

[tangledinink]

the gemini au

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[werewolf-garfield]

My tombstone:

Here lies werewolf-garfield, who killed themself bc they kept having to work with the most annoying violinist in the world

[dw-flagler]

its kind of funny to me that in the comics supergirl kind of occupies the spot for like the edgy superman. which is kind of weird for her typical role as kid sidekick to superman because her thing as a character (at least the versions of her character that i like) is that she doesn't have a reason to help anybody and doesn't like earth. edgy superman. but she's also the kid sidekick. strange juxtaposition

[thetimelordbatgirl]

Kinda sad how nowadays Doctor Who will never be able to do a scene like the scene of Gwen, Rhiannon and the kids fleeing the army while Rhys and other men in the neighborhood with eventually Andy fight back against the army. Because lord knows with the UK's constant army adverts lately, that the BBC won't the army be the bad guy in Doctor Who again.

[possum-tooth]

so we remember the guy that kept texting me like 2 weeks ago? our friend that went to the club that has a whole situation with his fiancée? should i ask if he wants to go to olive garden today instead

[painsandconfusion]

Writers, here’s your reminder that you should be doing warm-ups!

Athletes need to warm up. Musicians need to warm up. Artists need to warm up. Heck, I even have to play a few matches in video games before I get into a groove every day.

Warm-ups help you get into the right headspace, give you more control of your actions and word choice, get you comfortable in your physical setting (eg: with your keyboard, notebook, tablet, or whatever you're writing with), and spark creativity.

Even if you don’t think you have spoons to write, sit down and do a couple warm-ups. If you still don’t want to, that’s alright. But. I think you’ll be surprised how often they help break that ice.

5-15 minutes is all you need. I personally set a timer for ten minutes each time and do not stop writing until the time is up. Your warm-up can be anything at all so long as it gets you writing and starts nudging those creative juices.

Here's some common warm-ups:

Journaling. Just jot down some notes about your day. Feel free to really lean into something that you noticed. We're going for description and details -- try to avoid settling into a spiral or focusing on something negative that will upset your creativity.

Short story prompts. Type that into Pinterest and pick the most ridiculous, cliche thing you can. Write a little scene, story summary, or even a rant about why you do or don't like the prompt. Just write.

Vocab challenge. If you like a bit more critical thinking to get you in the zone, have a random vocabulary word generator spit out five or so words. Check their meanings and jot down a little story or thought that includes all five. You get more familiar with beautiful and descriptive language, and it gives you a much narrowed prompt (which is lovely if you're like me and suffer each time there's an open-ended task assigned).

Character moments. Try putting your character into a generic setting and write down almost meticulously what their thought process would be. Follow them realizing they've just stepped in mud or dreading the start of the day. Pick a mundane thing and describe them working through it. This will not only get your writing going, but it will wake up the character's voice in your head.

Ongoing storytelling. Did you know that Whinnie the Poo was A.A. Milne's warm up story? He would jot down a quick little story with those very basic characters and did so every day. Whatever came to mind. He kept writing little tidbits on the same characters and eventually it turned into a series. Having that ongoing plot with isolated scenes and simple characters can help you feel more motivated to sit down and write.

Get-to-know-you-questions. Google a list of basic first-date questions (there are a million out there) and answer one yourself. Go into specifics. Where do you most want to travel and why? Let yourself ramble until the question is fully answered.

Writer's block blues. This is a favorite of mine. If you're truly stuck, write about being stuck. Eg: 'I'm supposed to write for ten minutse, but that feels so stupid and impossible. No one is goign to read this anyway. I have no ideas and the page is so overwhelming when its blank. I used to be able to write on and on and nothing could stop me. it was like breathing. but now I have nothign and do nothing and I can't even do a stupid prompt-' Even the rambling and ranting got me writing. It made things easier. It made writing this post easier. Also -- notice the typos? Yeah, don't fix those. You're in writing mode, not editing mode when you're doing this. If you edit while you write, you're forcing yourself to stay in your executive and calculating headspace rather than falling fully into creativity and dream. Ignore the mistakes. That's for future you to handle.

I've officially rambled far too much, but I hope that helps even a little bit. Live well and write often, my friends. Best of luck to you <3

[tears-of-boredom]

being non-verbal -whether its for the forseeable future or for just a moment- is not rude, is not unkind, and neither is it unpolite.

[aethercoreheart]

caleb | 6:36 PM

"Can you come get me?"

Your voice cracks at the end of your question, and you have to stifle a sob. Before you even finish what you're saying, Caleb's voice speaks up on the other end of the line, resolute and firm.

"I have your location. I'll be there in five."

---

You don't say anything as you climb into the passenger seat of Caleb's car. He watches you put your seatbelt on wordlessly. You look out the window as he pulls out and starts driving, afraid that if you look at him, the tears would just start falling. Your eyes glaze over as the buildings pass by, and soon they start to become a gray blur.

Your hands are on your lap, and you hadn't realized how tightly you were clenching them until Caleb reaches over the console and takes one of yours in his. His fingers find their way between yours, and he tightens his grip on your hand, clasping it gently. He gives your hand a soft pump, and you return it, your chest suddenly feeling a little lighter.

You both stay silent as he continues to drive, one of his hands on the steering wheel and the other still holding yours.

Caleb breaks the silence first. "You want to talk about it?"

You keep your eyes trained on the buildings outside. You shake your head in response.

"Okay, that's fine," Caleb says simply.

The buildings disappear as Caleb enters the freeway, and your gaze shifts to the setting sun in the horizon. Your head is still clouded by troubled thoughts, but they disappear briefly when you notice that Caleb drives past the exit he was supposed to take.

You turn to look at him, but he just smirks, keeping his focus on the road ahead.

"Relax, we're just going to take a little detour. It won't take long, I promise."

---

You're not sure where it is that Caleb takes you, but you end up at an empty parking lot underneath the bridge spanning the city river. Caleb exits on the driver's side, and in a few seconds, he's opening the passenger door.

He extends a hand to you. "Come on, I have something to show you."

You take it, and let him lead you from the car to the stairs at the bottom of the bridge. You follow him as he heads up the stairs, and steps onto the pedestrian walkway part of the bridge. Soon, you are met with a spectacular view. The sun has sunk well below the horizon, but the sky is still a deep purple, dotted by the first few bright stars of the night. The moon has also started rising, its reflection becoming brighter on the surface of the river. In the distance, you see the city skyline, the city lights just blinking to life.

You can't help but gasp, entranced by the sights in front of you. Caleb watches you take it in, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. The both of you stay there, leaning over the railing, watching as the sky becomes darker and the lights become brighter.

You don't realize how cold it has gotten - in your rush to get Caleb to come pick you up, you had forgotten to take a jacket. You shudder involuntarily, the chill settling deeper into your skin. Caleb is immediately removing his leather jacket, and then drapes it over the railing. He then removes his hoodie, leaving him just wearing his shirt. He passes the hoodie to you, and you take it, immediately putting it on. You pull it over your head and take a deep breath in. The hoodie smells like him - slightly smoky and sweet, like cinnamon. He puts his jacket back on, and you lean against him, your head resting on his shoulder.

"Thank you," you whisper, suddenly feeling the lump in your throat again.

He takes your hand, his thumb rubbing gently strokes into it. You feel him press his lips against the top of your head, whispering into your hair.

"I'll come get you, no matter where you are, Pipsqueak."

[pepshee]

First Place

when you make a bet with your best friend—loser is forced to do what the winner wants—but his demands for you aren't exactly what you expected, but you're fully willing to comply.

Pairing - heeseung x fem!reader

Genre - friends with benefits, friends to ???, smut

Word count - 2k

Warnings - p in v, creampie, cliche, degrading (he calls reader a slut), fingering, mentions of other enha members, Mario kart mention, stripping, lmk if I missed anything!

A/N - I was gonna lowkey abandon writing but here I am.. back again... again, sorry if it's bad, and thank you to the anon in my inbox who gave me writing advice! i dont feel like using capitalization in this one so im not gonna... anyways.. enjoy! also yes im aware its kinda cliche

MDNI 18+

heeseung was always your best friend; he was always there when you needed him and vice versa. meeting him in high school was the best twist of fate ever. those four years would've ended up miserable had it been someone else.

there was a decent amount of girls after him, but that was never a bother. in fact, he was always your wingman, helping you find ways to ask out your crush without looking like a complete ditz. he had a couple of girlfriends throughout high school, but they never really lasted.

he was able to tell when you were upset and was somehow always able to pinpoint the reason. you'd never thought of him in a romantic light, although he was extremely attractive. it was like a forbidden fruit, something you were too scared to explore.

after graduation, applying to the same college as one another seemed scary. what if only one of you got in? what if neither of you got in? those worrying questions quickly disappeared when one day you both opened your results and found out you were both accepted.

he made new friends, and so did you, but one thing was that you never forgot each other. you both still regularly hung out and went to your usual coffee shops or shopping malls.

heeseung and his friends are at his dorm, and he had given you permission to come and go in his dorm without asking whenever you wanted whether he was there or not. his roommate, Jake, was hesitant about this at first, but just agreed to avoid drama, however, he grew to not mind it.

you were bored lying in your dorm room, so you got up to go to his dorm. upon walking in, you find him, his roommate, and his friends all huddled together in the living room, some on the couch, some on the floor, and the rest standing around. through a closer look, it wasn't hard to locate a couple of them, including heeseung, who were equipped with gaming controllers; they were playing video games.

one of his friends who wasn't playing hears the door opening and looks at you. you don't know his friends well, except for his roommate, but you did know their names.

the friend who saw you, jay, smirks upon noticing your presence. you didn't know the reason, but you just left it alone with a shrug of your shoulders. jay tapped heeseung—whose attention was occupied by whatever game it is that they're playing—and he replied without even looking away from the tv screen. "what is it? I'm trying to win, dude," he said. jay leaned into heeseung's ear and whispered something that you were unable to hear.

heeseung paused the game, earning him a few groans from his friends who also held controllers before turning his head to the door where you were standing. he smiled at you, "hey y/n! come here, we're all playing video games!" after walking over to him you both quickly realize there's no room on the couch for you to sit, but that problem didn't last very long. he hits his friend sitting next to him, sunghoon, not very hard but so sunghoon will know what heeseung is trying to get him to do.

sunghoon promptly got up, before you even got time to process him getting up, heeseung grabbed your wrist and pulled you to sit down next to him on the couch. it wasn't hard to notice the looks and smirks his friends gave each other once he did this, but you didn't think anything of it.

"why'd you show up to my dorm this time?" he looked at you, the game still paused, but it seemed his friends were more focused on you two rather than the game now. you let out a small laugh at his comment, "i got bored so i came here, but you're already busy i see." he shakes his head, "i'm not busy, we're just playing games, now watch me win," he smirks, he's always been quite cocky but it's part of his charm.

he unpaused it and continued the competitive game with an intense focus. after a bit, the game was over, and well, heeseung didn't win, but that's not important. he throws a playful fit about losing, and after a bit, he turns to you. "hey, lets play the hardest map on mario kart and whoever loses gets to boss the loser around, but it's just us two," he grins at his own idea, hoping you accept.

he almost cheers when he sees you nod, and signals one of his friends to hand you a controller. he selects the map, and as the game starts, he's completely in the zone; he really wants to win, to have power over you.

after crossing the finish line for the final time, heeseung had won, which makes you let out a groan of disapproval. his friends all laugh as heeseung lightly pushes and teases you. "I knew you were a loser!" he teases, making you hit him on the shoulder. "knock it off, i hate you, you have more experience!" you argue back, and he just laughs.

"okay so now I get to tell you what to do," he smirks. you roll your eyes, but he suddenly shooes his friends out of his dorm while they shoot him knowing looks, and mocking kissing gestures. it's like they know something you don't, which makes you nervous. why would they leave that easily?

after they had left, heeseung shifts around in his seat and turns back to you. "so.. now I need to think about what I'm gonna make you do.. maybe me and jakes dishes? the laundry?" he says, basically talking to himself. he just sits there thinking for a moment, occasionally throwing out random ideas until his face changes, finally landing on one. "y/n, we've been friends for a long time, yeah?" you nod, waiting for him to continue. "you know.. you're really pretty, and I think I've made my decision..." your heart flutters for a second at the tone he used; he never really talked to you like this before. he's told you you're pretty, but the way he said it this time was different.

"strip for me," his tone completely serious, lacking any bit of sarcasm or signs that he's joking. your eyes go wide, and you look at him, bewildered at what he chose. "seriously? strip? hee—" he stopped you before you could finish, "I'm serious, I've always felt something towards you, this is my opportunity, I choose for you to strip," his tone lowering, you can see the desire and the hunger written in his eyes.

through your utter shock, you take a moment to think, he is attractive.. you've always thought he was. what's the harm in this? why not just do it?

you started by removing your hoodie. once he realized you were down for his demands, he couldn't look away. then you removed your shirt, followed by your pants, now just leaving you in your bra and underwear. heeseung was just sitting back, manspreading, smirking at you. he'd never seen you so exposed like this before. "so pretty, your body is so sexy," he commented, you could see the growing bulge in his grey sweatpants.

suddenly, he stood up, grabbing your wrist dragging you to his bed before promptly pushing you down onto it. he quickly crawled on top of you and smashed his lips onto yours. it was unexpected but not unwelcome as you kissed him back and moved one of your hands to bury your fingers in his hair. as the kiss continued, your grip on his hair got tighter, earning a groan from him, while one of his hands explored your thighs.

his hand made its way to the wet patch on your panties, touching you over the cotton. this caused you to let out a whine at the feeling; you wanted more, wanted him to touch you more. he clearly noticed this, "beg for it," he demanded. he clearly wasn't going to give it to you that easily even though it was his idea. "please heeseung, touch my pussy, please.." your pleas made his cock twitch in his boxers, he finally took your panties completely off, sliding them down your legs.

he ran his fingers slowly and teasingly through your already wet and slick folds. "all this for me? didn't think you loved the idea of fucking your best friend so much, you're just a slut aren't you?" his degrading words just fueled your desire for his cock even more even though it probably shouldn't.

he slowly inserted one finger into your cunt, the feeling causing a small moan to release itself from your mouth. he then added a second one and started out slowly moving his fingers in and out of your hole, but then he sped up and even curled the slightly making them hit your g-spot at just the right angle. you moaned at the pleasure that took over you as he continued to scissor his fingers inside of you. his thumb started to rub your clit further stimulating your pussy.

"heeseung im s' close—" he removed his fingers without warning, making you whine at the newfound emptiness. before you could even question, he removed his sweatpants and his shirt. you could feel the drool forming at the sight of his chest and physique, but then your eyes landed on something even more exciting, the stain on his boxers due to his leaking cock.

he removed his boxers next, his large cock springing out, the sight of it made your eyes widen. how would he even fit? "it'll fit baby, don't worry, I'll make it fit," he said almost as if he had read your mind. he ran the tip of his cock through your slick folds and gave himself a couple strokes before finally lining himself up with your entrance. "i'm gonna fuck this pussy so good you hear me?"

he was so eager he didn't even go slow this time; he immediately rammed himself into you, enjoying the sight of the slight bulge he created on your stomach. he pulled out almost fully before thrusting back in, he repeated this process, making you a moaning mess. it was hard to tell where one of you started and where the other ended, "seungie- p-please.. keep going," you begged him, and he listened. he wasn't going to stop until you both came. you could feel his tip grazing your cervix, his cock stretching your pussy so good. you'd had sex before, but you could already tell heeseung is the best you'll ever get.

"come on baby, i know you're close, you like this don't you? like being my little slut," he was right, you did like it, you were close, he knew how to read you like an open book. "gonna cum—" is all you could manage to get out as the pleasure took over you making it almost impossible to form coherent sentences. not long after your words you let go, your release painting his cock forming a white ring at his base as he continued his thrusts chasing his own orgasm. "hold on love, i'm almost there, you can take it," he encouraged. his thrusts started to grow sloppy; he was close. finally, he came, his release painting the inside of your gummy walls. you'd never had anyone cum in you, you'd always had them pull out, but heeseung was different. you wanted him to cum in you.

he rolled off of you, now lying beside you as he brushed a sweaty strand of your hair out of your face. he looked at your bra still covering your tits, he leaned in to your ear and whispered "next time, I'm gonna fuck these pretty tits. I was so caught up with your pussy your poor boobs didn't get any love," he said almost sounding genuinely upset and sympathetic for them.

you wanted to ask what you two were now, but a pang of fear hit you; you were scared of his answer, so you decided to stay silent. you wanted to stay awake, but exhaustion was catching up. no matter how hard you tried to fight it, you couldn't. you finally closed your eyes and fell asleep, heseung followed soon after.

i hope you all liked it!! i'm not too confident about this one but yk.. anyways, this is only like the 4th evber fic ive ever written..... im aware its kinda fast paced, i did rush it oops....

[amirasainz]

hi! i rlly LOVE your works 🥹 you're my favorite author rn!!!! 💕can we get a team principal reader x f1 drivers where she got mad because fia is being unfair to mclaren boys, then she gets protective of the boys during interviews smth like that. then, other drivers were impressed and jealous of mcl boys because they want the same treatment from y/n too hehe. thank u so much & i hope you're having a great dayyy (sorry if there are mistakes. english is not my first language 😅)

Using her voice

The post-qualifying buzz always had its own kind of electric atmosphere. The pit lane was still humming, the smell of burnt rubber clung to the air, and team radios crackled in every direction. Reporters with lanyards were already circling like bees around honey.

And standing at the heart of it all, just outside the McLaren garage, was Yn.

She stood tall — well, tall enough in her stylish orange heels — wearing a fitted, double-breasted blazer dress in McLaren papaya, gold hoop earrings, hair in a sleek ponytail, eyes hidden behind designer sunglasses. She looked like a woman who ran the world.

And, in a way, she did.

At just 22 years old, she was the youngest Team Principal Formula 1 had ever seen. Some laughed when McLaren announced her appointment. But no one was laughing now. Not when she had transformed the garage into a tight-knit family, not when her boys—Lando and Oscar—were pushing the front-runners more than ever.

Not when every driver on the grid would sell their left tire to have her in their garage.

But today?

Today she was pissed.

“Where’s Yn?” Oscar asked, leaning against the wall near the garage, still in his race suit.

Lando was standing next to him, arms crossed. “In a meeting with the stewards. Again.”

Oscar scoffed. “Let me guess. Another bogus penalty?”

“Yup,” Lando replied. “Three-place grid drop for 'blocking' Stroll in Q2. But there’s no footage of it. And no one was even close to him.”

Oscar frowned. “They gave me a track limits warning for going wide in the pit lane. The pit lane, Lando.”

“I swear they just spin a wheel back there with our names on it.”

The garage door opened, and every head turned.

Yn stepped out, and her expression said it all.

Danger.

She took off her sunglasses slowly, dramatically, like she was in a spy movie, and tucked them into the inside pocket of her blazer.

“Boys,” she said, her voice cool but razor-sharp. “We're doing the interview. Now.”

Oscar blinked. “Are you sure? You seem—uh—”

“Furious?” she offered sweetly.

Lando raised an eyebrow. “Just checking you don’t want to cool down first?”

“Oh no,” Yn replied, glancing around as reporters started to gather. “I’m perfectly warm. Let’s give them a show.”

And that’s when every driver in the paddock started paying attention.

Charles was mid-sip of his water when he noticed the gathering. “What’s going on at McLaren?”

“Fireworks,” George murmured, adjusting his Mercedes jacket as he leaned on the railing.

Pierre grinned. “God, she looks like she’s about to go full CEO on the FIA.”

Carlos joined, arms crossed. “I’d kill to be defended like that.”

Even Max, who usually didn’t care much about anything that didn’t directly involve him, raised an intrigued eyebrow from the Red Bull garage.

The crowd of reporters was already surrounding the McLaren garage. Cameras rolled. Microphones were raised. Fans crowded on the opposite side of the barrier, all eyes locked on Yn — who stood between her drivers like a queen with her knights.

Oscar and Lando flanked her like twin towers, both wearing their best don’t mess with us faces. If anyone got too close, they looked ready to bodycheck a reporter into the next century.

The first question was innocent enough.

“Yn, can you explain the FIA’s penalty decision for Lando?”

Yn smiled politely, but her tone was ice with a hint of flame.

“Sure. I’d love to explain. Actually, I’d love for them to explain. Because last I checked, you need evidence to hand out penalties. And unless someone’s hiding a secret camera in the sky, I’d say the footage they reviewed exists purely in someone’s imagination.”

The reporter chuckled nervously. “So… you disagree with the stewards’ call?”

“Oh no, I don’t disagree,” Yn said, tilting her head. “I think it’s adorable they think people won’t notice how utterly irrational their decisions are. Like—what’s the point of rules if they’re going to be applied like we’re playing roulette?”

Oscar coughed to hide a grin. Lando muttered, “Get 'em, boss,” under his breath.

Another reporter tried to cut in. “Do you think McLaren is being targeted?”

Yn’s eyes flashed.

“I think someone is upset that we’re doing well,” she said coolly. “And instead of raising the bar, they’re trying to drag us back down to mediocrity with penalties that don’t make sense, don’t follow precedent, and honestly—look lazy.”

There were several gasps.

Even the Aston Martin garage had gone quiet.

Kimi, who’d wandered by for a snack from the hospitality truck, blinked. “Is it normal to find a Team Principal hot when she’s angry?”

Ollie beside him mumbled, “If it’s wrong, I don’t want to be right.”

A Ferrari mechanic whispered, “I want her to yell at me like that.”

Yn wasn’t done.

“I’m not going to stand by while my drivers are punished for being good. Oscar drove clean. Lando did nothing wrong. So if the FIA wants to penalize us, I suggest they also penalize everyone else who’s ever driven slightly wide, slightly slow, or slightly too perfect.”

Silence.

Then a reporter dared to ask, “And what do your drivers think?”

Lando stepped forward.

“I think Yn’s the best Team Principal I’ve ever worked with.”

Oscar nodded. “She protects us. She believes in us. And we believe in her.”

Yn smiled, proud and fierce, as both boys stood at her side like bodyguards. Their body language screamed: This is our leader. Hurt her, and we’ll fight back.

A few more questions were thrown in, but Yn wrapped it up neatly.

“That’ll be all. I have cars to prepare, engineers to brief, and a team to defend. And trust me—McLaren isn’t backing down.”

She turned, heels clicking sharply on the concrete, both boys following closely behind like an entourage.

Back in the garage, Oscar collapsed onto the nearest chair. “You just ended their whole careers.”

Lando grinned. “Seriously. That was savage. Legendary. Iconic.”

Yn shrugged, tossing her sunglasses back on. “I’m just tired of pretending like I don’t notice the double standards. If they’re going to play games, so can I. Only I play to win.”

The boys looked at her like she’d just walked out of a Marvel movie.

George peeked his head into the garage. “Hey. Just came to say... That was impressive. Very... commanding.”

Charles followed, pretending to check his phone. “Yeah. Um. So… if you’re ever bored of orange, you know, red’s a good color too.”

Pierre winked. “Or blue. Alpine blue is very flattering.”

Max walked in without a word, looked Yn up and down, nodded once, and left.

Oscar raised his eyebrows. “Are we going to have to start putting up a 'No Flirting With Our TP' sign?”

Lando crossed his arms. “I’m getting one printed tonight.”

Yn just smirked, clearly enjoying herself. “Let them look,” she said. “They can admire the view from afar. Because this view? Is McLaren only.”

That night on Twitter:

@F1HotGossip:

MCLAREN TEAM PRINCIPAL YN JUST COOKED THE FIA ALIVE DURING A POST-QUALY INTERVIEW. DRIVERS FROM THREE OTHER TEAMS HAVE ALREADY "CHECKED IN" TO MCLAREN’S HOSPITALITY. 🧡🔥 #QueenYn #PapayaProtectionSquad

@OscarFan81:

She’s 22, dresses like a Vogue cover, defends her boys like a lioness, and terrifies the FIA. This woman is living my dream.

@TheRealLando:

our boss > your boss. stay mad.

Have a good time, everyone! Requests are open for TP reader

[sophiamcdougall]

I am never going to complain about Greek Duolingo again

I mean, I am. But still.

So, as some of you know, my family has been coming to this tiny Greek seaside village for several years. Just over a week ago I came out here with my mum, under the impression that early September, after the height of the summer heat, would be a good time to have a holiday. ANYWAY Storm Daniel had other ideas about that. Locally things are improving (I'm actually really pissed off about the disaster-porn tone of most English-language media coverage, but that's another post). The power is back on, there's running water most of the time, and though the latter is not drinkable, a truck from the government came and handled out free bottled water yesterday. But we are currently kind of stuck. Can't do tourist things. Can't go home. There aren't any local flights out until Saturday and the road to Thessaloniki is still closed.

So this evening, feeling kind of aimless and depressed, I go down to the nearest beach with a couple of binbags and start cleaning up in an effort to at least do something positive. I always try to do this at least once out here and obviously, after the storm, there's a lot more plastic and rubbish than usual.

At some point I find this large, round bit of metal - some kind of machinery part, I think -- that's too big for the bag, so I take it to the bins on its own, leaving the rubbish bag on the beach. And when I come back for it, something among the stones beside it moves.

Specifically, it pulls its head sharply inside its shell

So, meanwhile I've been trying to learn some Greek with the help of Duolingo.

I currently have a 33-day streak and... I have questions. Shouldn't I be able to use the past or future tenses by now? Shouldn't I be able to say "x is like y"? I can't do those things. But one thing I absolutely can say all day long is έχω μια χελώνα : I have a turtle.

This is far from the limit of Duolingo Greek's turtle-related content. "An obsession with turtles" is my mother's characterisation. I can inform you that the turtle is not a bird, and, improbably, that the turtle is drinking milk. I can introduce you to a turtle in company with a horse and an elephant. As far as Duolingo is concerned, it really is turtles all the way down.

Now this, you may be able to see, is not a turtle. It has claws rather than flippers. It is a tortoise. I know there are wild tortoises in Greece: my aunt once rescued a pair of them shagging in the middle of the road -- but that was up in the mountains. I've even seen one myself, but it was also on a road and very dead.

I am 95% certain they don't belong on beaches. There's nothing for it to eat, except, unfortunately, a lot of plastic. Even if it gets off the beach it will immediately find itself on a road where it could get hit by a car. I'm pretty sure it must have been washed down by the floodwater and has been just sitting there, dazed, ever since.

Now obviously the first thing I want to do on encountering this unusual animal is to go and tell my mummy, so I do. The tortoise immediately brightens her day. She agrees that the tortoise is not happy on the beach and needs to be taken somewhere safe. it gets surprisingly wriggly when picked up so we put it in a carrier bag with some grapes and cucumber and go looking for somewhere to rehome it.

We find a path leading up between the houses towards a likely-looking field, but before we get very far a dog in a yard goes berserk and a man's head pops over a fence and demands to know what we're doing. He does this in English, as evidently we're just that obviously tourists.

"I found a tortoise on the beach!" I explain. "We want to find somewhere to put it."

"A what," he asks.

"It's like a, you know," I begin and then to my astonishment I find myself saying... "μια χελώνα"

"Oh! A turtle!" he says.

"But from the land. δεν είναι χελώνα", [it is not a turtle,] I say, as I am worried he will tell me to put it back near the sea where I found it. As it turns out it actually IS a χελώνα, Greek does not distinguish between turtles and tortoises, but I don't know that; I can't even name the days of the week or identify any colours other than pink yet, give me a break.

The man's entire demeanour changes and thaws. He does not worry about my turtle-that-is-not-a-turtle conundrum. He knows where οι χελώνες come from and where η χελώνα μας belongs. He leads us through a gate into a courtyard area.

"[somethingsomething] μια χελώνα," he explains to the assembled onlookers, of whom there are, suddenly, a surprising number.

"ΜΙΑ ΧΕΛΩΝΑ!!!" crows the throng of delighted small children, who are, suddenly, everywhere.

"μια χελώνα!" I agree, accepting that at least for current purposes, that is what it is.

"Μπορούμε να δούμε τη χελώνα σας; [can we see your turtle?]" asks an adorable little girl, shyly, and I understand??

The children fucking love looking at the χελώνα and showing it to them is kind of magical?

I finally put the tortoise down on the grass of this wild area off to the side of the courtyard, and marvel aloud that it is weird that I barely know any Greek except how to say μια χελώνα.

"I think she will soon run off," a kind lady called Aspasia assures me, seeing I remain slightly anxious about its fate. "I don't know why I'm saying 'she'. I suppose because χελώνα is feminine in Greek."

"Yes! I know that!" I exclaim, thrilled.

"Well done!" she says. And also she asks if we are OK for drinking water after the storm and if we need any help with anything and is just generally incredibly lovely and now we know more of the neighbours!

So "μια χελώνα" has just become, by a long way, my most-used and most understood and all-around most conversationally successful phrase in Greek. So I guess I have to admit I was wrong to doubt Duolingo's wisdom: it is correct to be obsessed with turtles. And I concede that prior to learning how to count to ten or to distinguish right from left, the simple ability to yell the word TURTLE over and over again is, it turns out, a crucial element of the responsible traveller's social skills.

(I am pretty fluent in Italian and turtles haven't come up in conversation even once?)

[satellite-evans]

all I need

Pairing: Lando Norris x driver!reader

Summary: Lando gets furiuos when you get fined for swearing after your crash.

Word count: 2.9k+

Warnings: fluff, swearing, injuries, angry lando

Request : Hi could I please request a lando x reader fic where the reader is a driver and she gets in a big crash and the team radio is like asking if she is okay and shes like answers after a bit and is in pain because she just CRASHED and then she accidentally swears on radio and she gets fined and the media is going crazy and like lando is just being a good protective boyfriend and is defending her in interviews and stuff? Thanks!! xoxo - anon 🍟

A/N:

Hi love, thank you so much for sending in a request and trusting me enough to write your idea!! I hope I did it justice xxx

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

One moment, everything is fine—you’re fighting for position, pushing the car to its absolute limit, heart pounding with adrenaline as you navigate the treacherous corners. The next, it all goes horribly wrong.

The rear tires lose grip. A sharp twitch, then a full spin. Time slows, but your mind races. Your hands react on instinct, desperately trying to correct, but it’s too late. The world outside the cockpit blurs in a sickening whirl of colors—track, barriers, sky. Then nothing but gut-wrenching weightlessness as the car lifts off the ground.

The impact is catastrophic. Metal shrieks against metal, carbon fiber shatters like glass. The force slams through your body, rattling bones, squeezing air from your lungs. Pain flares—sharp, immediate—radiating from your ribs, your shoulders, your skull as the cockpit jolts to a brutal stop. Static crackles in your helmet.

For a moment, everything is eerily still. Your pulse roars in your ears, drowning out the stunned gasps from the crowd, the commentary scrambling to make sense of what just happened. Your breath is ragged, shallow. The world tilts nauseatingly around you.

Then, the radio buzzes to life.

"Y/N, Y/N, are you okay?!" David's voice is urgent, bordering on frantic. There’s a tightness to it you’ve never heard before, and that alone terrifies you more than the crash itself.

You try to respond, but pain flares when you shift. A groan escapes before you can stop it. Your fingers fumble for the radio button, and when you finally manage to press it, your voice comes out weak, breathless.

"Fuck—yeah, I think so." A cough, a wince. "That hurt."

Across the track, in his car, Lando watches it all unfold in real-time. His stomach drops, breath catching as he sees your car crumple against the barriers. His knuckles go white around the steering wheel, heart hammering painfully against his ribs. The images flash across the big screens, slow-motion replays dissecting the crash from every angle. He can’t tear his eyes away.

Is she okay? Is she responding?!" His voice is laced with panic, the desperation evident.

His race engineer hesitates. "We're waiting on confirmation, Lando. Focus on the race."

But how the hell is he supposed to do that? The car, the track, the championship—all of it fades. Right now, none of it matters except you.

His grip on the steering wheel tightens. "Please—can you keep me updated? I need to know if she's okay." His voice wavers just slightly, the emotion threatening to spill over.

A pause. Then, softer, "We will, Lando. Just focus for now."

He exhales sharply, forcing himself to keep driving, but his eyes keep flicking to the screens around the circuit, searching for any sign of movement from you. His heart pounds as he waits—praying to hear your voice again.

A beat of silence stretches after your message. Then, Race Control’s voice cuts through.

"Y/N, reminder that all radio transmissions are broadcasted live. Watch the language."

Despite everything, a strained, breathy laugh escapes you. "Yeah, yeah, noted. Ow."

The medical car is already pulling up, orange lights flashing, marshals swarming the wreckage. You can hear them shouting, their voices urgent but professional. Someone taps on the side of your cockpit, checking for a response. Your fingers twitch, slow and uncoordinated, but you give them a thumbs-up.

The crowd, stunned into silence, exhales as one. The commentators try to fill the dead air with reassurances, but the tension is thick. On social media, the crash is already going viral—clips looping endlessly, speculation running rampant.

The straps of your harness dig into your bruised shoulders as the adrenaline begins to wear off, replaced by a dull, spreading ache that makes every breath feel like a struggle. The world around you is a cacophony of noise—sirens wailing, the frantic chatter of the marshals, the dull roar of the crowd beyond the barriers—but it all feels distant, muffled by the ringing in your ears.

"Try not to move too much," one of the medical staff instructs gently, his gloved hands already working to unbuckle you from the mangled remains of your car. "Can you feel everything?"

You give a small, shaky nod. "Yeah," you breathe, wincing as you shift slightly. "Just sore. Really sore."

The relief on his face is immediate, but the tension in the air remains. They move carefully, extracting you from the cockpit as gingerly as possible. As soon as you're free, your knees threaten to buckle, but strong arms catch you before you hit the ground.

"You’re alright, we’ve got you," another voice reassures, steadying you as they guide you toward the waiting medical car. The flash of cameras in the distance, the low hum of anxious murmurs from the pit lane—it all feels surreal.

The moment the checkered flag waves, Lando doesn’t care about anything else. Not the debrief, not the podium celebrations—none of it matters. His car screeches to a halt in parc fermé, barely lined up properly, but he’s already halfway out before the engine even fully shuts down. His hands rip off his steering wheel, then his helmet, tossing it aside as he breaks into a full sprint toward the medical center.

His lungs burn, but he doesn’t slow down. The only thing driving him forward is the sheer panic gripping his chest. His mind replays the crash on an agonizing loop—the way your car crumpled, how long it took for you to respond, the thought of losing you was eating him alive. He pushes past team personnel, ignoring their calls, shoving the medical center doors open with enough force to make them slam against the walls.

"Where is she?" His voice is sharp, almost desperate.

A nurse barely has time to react before he spots you. Sitting on the edge of the examination bed, bruised and battered, your race suit scuffed with streaks of dirt and dried blood. Your arm is wrapped around your ribs, and there’s a gash just below your glove, crimson seeping through the fabric. Your right knee is swollen, and every inhale looks like it stings.

But you’re alive.

Lando exhales a shuddering breath, his entire body sagging with relief. He crosses the room in seconds, reaching you like you might disappear if he doesn’t move fast enough. Without hesitation, he takes your hand, gripping it tightly like an anchor. His fingers ghost over your bruised knuckles, his touch impossibly gentle.

"Jesus, Y/N…" His voice is hoarse, cracking under the weight of the fear still clinging to him.

You manage a small, tired smile despite the pain. "I’m fine. Trust me, it’s not as bad as it looks."

His jaw clenches, eyes scanning you like he doesn’t quite believe you. "Not as bad as it looks? You scared the hell out of me. Don’t do that again. Ever."

The intensity of his words makes your chest tighten—not just from the bruises, but from the raw emotion behind them. You squeeze his hand, grounding him.

Later, after the doctors clear you—bruised ribs, mild concussion, but nothing broken—you limp out of the medical center, Lando’s arm wrapped protectively around your waist. Every step sends a dull ache through your body, but at least you’re standing.

David intercepts you, shifting awkwardly on his feet. "So, uh… don’t shoot the messenger, but you’re getting a fine for the team radio."

You blink. "You’re kidding, right?"

Before David can even answer, Lando scoffs, disbelief flashing across his face. "She just survived a high-speed crash, and they’re fining her for swearing? Seriously?"

David sighs, handing over the paperwork with an apologetic shrug. "Yeah… FIA wasn’t too happy. Regulations and all."

You stare at the notice for a beat before letting out a tired, incredulous laugh. "Yeah, okay. Next time I crash at 200 mph, I’ll be sure to say ‘gosh darn it’ instead."

Lando shakes his head, jaw tight with frustration. "Unbelievable."

But instead of dwelling on it, he just pulls you in closer, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. The warmth of his embrace eases some of the lingering tension in your body. "Don’t worry about it, love. If they want to fine you for being human, let them. You’re still the toughest person I know."

You smile, leaning into him, exhaustion settling deep in your bones. Because at the end of the day, a fine means nothing when you still have Lando by your side.

And, as expected, the media goes absolutely wild.

"Formula 1 Driver Y/N Y/L/N Fined After Shocking Radio Message Post-Crash!"

"Did Y/N Deserve Her FIA Penalty? Fans Debate Over Radio Outburst!"

"Y/N’s Crash Sparks Controversy: Was the Fine Justified?"

The headlines flood every social platform within minutes. Slow-motion replays of the crash loop endlessly on TV screens, side-by-side with grainy images of you wincing as you climbed out of the wreckage. Every angle is analyzed, every expression dissected.

Your post-race hospital visit is barely over when reporters start circling like vultures, bombarding you with questions before you even have the strength to face them, but Lando was having none of it.

Seated in front of the media, still in his race suit, Lando’s jaw is tight, hands clenched on the table as microphones are shoved toward him.

"Lando, there's been a lot of discussion about Y/N’s penalty for language over the team radio. Do you think the FIA was justified in issuing the fine?"

He scoffs, jaw tightening. "Are we seriously focusing on a fine when she just survived a massive crash?" His voice is sharp, edged with barely restrained anger. "She was in pain. She was shaken up. And she swore—who wouldn’t? It's ridiculous."

The journalists shift uncomfortably, but another one presses on. "Rules are rules, though. FIA has strict guidelines about profanity on public transmissions. Do you think it sets a bad precedent if they don’t enforce them?"

Lando lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Mate, if your first thought after seeing a crash like that is to talk about a penalty, maybe rethink your priorities."

Another journalist jumps in. "But don’t you think it’s important to maintain professionalism on the radio? A lot of young fans look up to drivers."

Lando rolls his eyes. "Right, because what’s really damaging to young fans isn’t the fact that someone just had a life-threatening accident, but the fact that she said ‘fuck’ while trying to breathe properly again." He leans forward, voice lower but no less cutting. "If we’re talking role models, maybe start by making sure the sport actually supports its drivers instead of fining them for reacting like a human being."

His words are already making waves, clips spreading across social media.

And while you’re still exhausted, still aching from the crash, there’s something about seeing him so openly, fiercely in your corner that makes your heart ache in the best way.

Even after the official interviews, the media frenzy doesn’t stop. Paparazzi crowd outside the paddock, desperate for a statement. Team members act as buffers, but there’s only so much they can do.

As you slowly make your way out of the motorhome, Lando’s arm firmly around your waist, cameras flash, voices overlapping as reporters shout over each other.

"Y/N, do you think the FIA’s decision was fair?"

"Do you regret your words on the radio?"

"Lando, how did it feel watching the crash happen live?"

He tenses beside you. "How do you think it felt?" His voice is sharp, protective. "I watched someone I love crash at full speed. So no, I don’t really give a damn about some radio penalty right now."

You squeeze his hand in silent gratitude. He doesn’t have to be this involved, but he is. Always.

Another journalist turns to you, voice softer but no less intrusive. "Y/N, how are you feeling after the accident?"

You exhale, trying to keep your expression neutral despite the lingering pain. "Sore, obviously. But I’m okay."

"Will you be racing in the next Grand Prix?"

Lando answers before you can. "She’s focusing on recovery first. That’s the priority."

It’s not a direct confirmation, but it’s enough to hold off the speculation—at least for now.

The chaos of the day finally starts to feel like a distant memory as you curl up on the couch in Lando’s apartment. An ice pack rests gently on your ribs, offering some comfort against the bruising, but it’s Lando’s presence that truly calms you. His arm drapes protectively around you, pulling you in close like he never wants to let go, his warmth surrounding you in a way that makes you feel safe. His thumb moves in slow, soothing circles on your arm, the rhythm gentle and steady.

It’s such a contrast to the frantic energy of the day—the flashing cameras, the endless questions, the tension in the air—but now, in this moment, all of that feels like it belongs to another world. This is where you’re grounded.

You sigh, resting your head against his shoulder, letting the quietness of the room wrap around you like a soft blanket. But there’s something still heavy in the pit of your stomach, a lingering feeling that something was unsettled. You tilt your head up to look at him, your eyes tracing the faint lines of worry still etched across his face, the tension that’s only now starting to ease from his features.

"You didn’t have to go that hard for me," you murmur, your voice soft, though you know the words don’t quite do justice to what you’re feeling. You had been overwhelmed by everything that happened, but he—he had been beside you every step of the way, his every move showing how deeply he cared.

He scoffs, shaking his head slowly like the idea is completely foreign to him. "Of course I did. It’s bullshit," he mutters, his voice laced with frustration that hasn’t quite gone away. "You should be getting support, not fined for a stupid word." The words come out with a little more heat than he intends, but it’s the underlying softness in his voice, the way he’s speaking to you like he wants to protect you from the world’s unfairness, that makes your heart flutter.

You chuckle softly, a tired sound that makes his grip on you tighten just a fraction, like he’s afraid you might slip away. "Guess I owe you, huh?" you tease, trying to lighten the mood.

Lando’s response is immediate—he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. His hands shift, cradling you with a tenderness that almost feels too gentle, like you’re something precious he’s afraid to break. "Just don’t scare me like that again," he whispers, his voice barely above a breath, as though the thought of you being hurt again is more than he can bear. "And we’ll call it even."

You smile up at him, heart full of warmth for this man who always seems to put your well-being before his own. But you can’t promise him that. You know how the sport works, how unpredictable it is. You’ll never be able to give him that guarantee.

But there’s something you can promise him, something more important. You squeeze his hand, the simple act grounding you both in this moment. Your voice is steady as you look up into his eyes, locking your gaze with his. "No matter what happens," you say, the words firm but soft, a promise from the deepest part of you, "you’ll always have me. I’ll always have you."

His expression softens in a way that makes you think he’s heard every unspoken word in your statement, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. The air between you feels full—full of shared understanding, full of the love you have for each other, full of the promise that no matter the challenges, no matter the risks, you’ll face it all side by side.

For a long moment, Lando is quiet, his thumb still brushing over your skin in slow, absentminded strokes. But then his breath catches slightly, and when you glance up, you see it—the way his eyes shimmer with unshed tears. His jaw tenses as if he’s trying to hold it all back, but the emotion is too heavy, too raw.

"I thought I lost you," he admits, his voice breaking just enough to reveal the fear he’s been holding in. "When everything was happening, and I couldn’t reach you..." He trails off, shaking his head as if trying to push the memory away, but his grip on you tightens like he never wants to let go again. "I don’t know what I would’ve done if—"

"Hey," you interrupt softly, your hand moving to cup his face, your thumb brushing against the dampness on his cheek. "I’m here. I’m okay. And I’m not going anywhere."

That seems to break whatever wall he was trying to hold up. Lando lets out a shaky breath, his forehead dropping against yours as he closes his eyes. "I just... I can’t lose you," he confesses, the words raw and vulnerable in a way that makes your chest ache. "Not you."

You press a soft kiss to his lips, hoping it conveys everything words can’t. "You won’t," you promise against his mouth, your voice unwavering. "I’m right here."

He nods slightly, like he’s trying to believe it, and when he pulls you into his arms again, it’s with a desperation that speaks to how close he felt to losing you. But in this moment, with his heart laid bare and your arms wrapped tightly around each other, there’s nothing else that matters.

Lando kisses you gently on the forehead, his lips lingering there for just a second longer. "That’s all I need," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. Then, his arms pull you even closer, his warmth radiating through your bones.

[clovermoters]

flights and family - lando norris x wife!reader

summary - after an eventful first half of the season, a trip home is just what you and your family need to reset

warnings - nothing! some mentions of lando being overwhelmed due to the 2024 season, but other than that just fluff & kisses

authors note - haiii heres a josie fic i wrote while i was on a plane a couple months ago, i hope u enjoy <33 im trying to get back into the swing of writing so gimme reqs and ill try and get to them as quick as possible!! lots of love, clove!

apart of the josephine elliot norris chronicals

“babe wake up..” kisses flutter across your face, pulling you out of your peaceful sleep. you open your eyes to see your husband's emerald eyes overtop of you. 

“we gots’ to go! its airport time in t-minus 1 hour“ he whispers, lightly pinching your bicep to spark your body awake. 

“uuuggh what time is it?” you groan, rolling over to grab your phone, 3:46am. your flight boards at 6. You fall back into the duvet, eyes slowly closing as sleep reaches out to pull you under again.

“baby! up! i’ll get josie”  he shouts through whisper, marching around your bedroom in his baby blue sweatpants and matching hoodie. You giggle, throwing the covers over, finally getting out of bed. 

lando speeds down the hall towards your daughter's room, he creaks the door open into the room. dimly lit from the flower nightlight hung on the wall next to the pretty pink letters spelling josephine above the small pink race car bed. his daughter, a recent graduate to the race car bed, was curled up under her blankets sleeping softly. 

lando lifts his daughter into his arms, the 3 year old stirring slightly, whining at the disturbance of her slumber. 

“it’s just daddy,” he shushes, pushing the curls out of her face so he can see his own eyes looking back at him “you ready for the plane baby?” rolling the bright pink suitcase down to the front door where yours and his await along with your carry ons. The quiet babbles of your daughter chatting with him about her dream fill the quiet of the early morning. 

monaco was rarely quiet, the city almost never sleeps. the peaceful blanket of calm reassurance, lando was sure today would go smoothly. 

you just needed to be ready on time. 

he loved you, his wife, the love of his life, mother of his child, number one supporter. 

but my god your punctuality needed some work. 

Just as if you heard his thoughts, you came bustling down the stairs with your bag in hand, sporting your light grey aritzia sweatsuit that Lando bought you as an early anniversary present. 

“okay, i’m ready” you huff, blowing your hair that fell in front of your eyes. lando chuckles at your disheveled-ness while your daughter rests her head on his shoulder, quickly falling back to sleep. 

you melt at the sight, smiling softly “she’ll be okay right?” you ask, it was josie’s first time flying, your husband rubbing her back before nodding 

“Of course she well, she's so zonked she won't even realize we're in the air-” you chuckle “and I booked a jet. we couldn’t be more safe.” he assures you while handing you some suitcases to take to the uber that’s arriving downstairs. 

“as long as we get to the airport on time” he jokes, giving your bum a light pat while you lock the door. You scoff at him playfully, even after being married for four years and having a child, Lando still has his ways to make you giggle like a teenager.  

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

making it through the airport was quick, josie had fallen asleep on lando in the car. Making the check in easy when you didn’t have a 3 year old asking every question imaginable. you and lando loved her imagination and curiosity, taking it as a small parenting win when you had the time and energy to answer those questions. 

4:45am, however, is not the time to answer those questions 

security was quiet, perks of flying early and in the middle of the week. the attendants recognized your little family letting you through the fast lane just for some entertainment, in the mist of the night. 

the sun was just making its appearance over the horizon when you took off. Josie was curled up in landos lap, completely passed out. 

“I can't wait to be home in London,” you say softly as you rest your head on your husband's shoulder, your gaze fixed on your little bundle of love whos sleeping in his lap  

Lando hums, eyes fixed on his daughter who’s been subconsciously squeezing his fingers in her rem. 

“yeah, i can’t wait to see my parents” he adds “i made max pick us up so we can surprise them at breakfast” 

one week ago, you and your husband made an impromptu decision to drop everything and take a trip home. You both have been overly stressed and it was taking a toll on the two of you. Lando has been at the fighting front of the championship for months while you have been juggling being a first time mother and handling your own responsibilities at work. 

it all came to a breaking point when lando had broken down after coming home from a tough race weekend. frustrated with the results, the pressure and overall the backlash from outsiders, had him sobbing in your arms the minute he walked through the door. soon after you both came to the realization that you needed some well deserved rest and relaxation during the summer break.  

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“ahh they’re they are!” Max shouts from the car when he spots you two, earning a glare from you, pointing to the girl still sleeping soundly in landos arms. 

“Whoops, sorry!” He sucks in a breath through his teeth. helping you load the bags into the boot while Lando secures Josie in her car seat. You always thought fatherhood was so beautiful on him, you fall in love with him all over again seeing the way he was with josie. only proving to you that this was something he was meant to do. 

The London streets were still quiet, the faded radio music providing a background as you and Lando chatted with Max, catching up while he navigated through the city towards landos childhood home. 

When you arrived, you took Josie in your arms trying to wake her so she could greet her grandparents properly. 

the girl stirred in your arms, mumbling incoherent words into your neck and lando giggling from behind you, watching the girl wake. you always loved watching him with josie, the man adored his daughter. from the moment she was born she had him wrapping around her finger the very second he saw his own eyes staring back at him. 

“hi baby girl wanna go say hi to nana and pop?” he asked, that perked Josie up. The toddler always got excited at the mention of her grandparents. 

“ya i’m gonna giv’ them a biiig hug” she mumbled still half asleep, lifting her head from your shoulder while showing a toothy smile to her father. You and your husband break out into a fit of giggles.  

The sweet smell of eggs, bacon and delicious pastries engulfed the inside of the Norris family home. you and lando feel yourself physically relax at the thought of ciscas home cooked brunch. 

soft music came from the kitchen as the distant voices of landos family traveled throughout the home. Providing a lighthouse to the kitchen, the light at the end of a tunnel that you and lando so desperately were waiting for. 

you place josie down, allowing her to walk ahead of you and lando, the girl running into the kitchen, turning to see the girl, cisca halts her movements, gasping at her granddaughter, who she knew lived in monaco. 

“well what are you doing here missy?” the woman asks, alerting the rest of the Norris family of their unexpected guest. you and lando take that as the signal to turn the corner, smiling ear to ear with your hands interlocked, the shocked faces of the norris family say enough that your surprise was a success 

“surprise!”

The room erupted into cheers from the Norris family, moving to give you all hugs. Josie giggling as her grandma picks her up, attacking her cheeks with kisses. 

You greet landos sisters and parents, squeezing your sister in-laws while Lando hugs his brother and his wife. 

“what brings your three here?” landos father, adam asks while giving his son a hug, flo begins setting three extra place mats on the dining table for you as josie is in a very in depth conversation with her grandma. 

“monaco was getting too much so we wanted to spend some time home before the break ends..” lando explained, simply. pressing a kiss to your temple before moving to hug his mum, you watch as he melts slightly into the embrace, tucking his head inside her neck the same way he does with you. 

Cisca places a kiss on your check when she hugs you “you go settle in upstairs, breakfast will be ready soon, you must be exhausted” 

You both sink into the mattress, letting out a sigh of relief. 

“I am so happy we came,” Lando breathes, rolling over to look at you with that loving smile on his face that gives you butterflies, the morning sun hitting his face just perfectly, casting a gentle glow over his gorgeous features. You smile softly up at him reaching out gently to scratch the light stubble he's grown. 

“I'm so happy we came too my love” 

He lightly pecks your lips before the door bursts open, in walks Josie with Mila hot on her heels. The two cousins hopping on the bed before josie lightly jumps on her fathers stomach, causing lando to let out a quiet “oomf-”

“Nana told us to come get you because brekkie is ready!” Mila said before hopping off the bed and running out the room, Josie tries to wiggle out of landos arms but he squeezes her tighter, placing kisses all over her face. The girl giggling at her father 

“Oh no you don't missy!” he says

 “dada let me go!” she shouts through a string of giggles and squeals. 

You three make your way downstairs, joining your family at the table. The conversation flows effortlessly as you fill your tummy with ciscas delicious spread of food. You and Lando make eye contact from the opposite sides of josie who sat between you two, landos eyes were filled with nothing but love as you smiled softly back at the love of your life, a silent agreement that this trip was just what your family needed. 

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

all doneee thank u so much for reading!!

[astonmartinii]

day seven: (christmas) star power | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem primary school!teacher

oh how one lie can spiral

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by yourbff, yourbrother and 204 others

yourusername: so ummmmmmm i pulled the short straw and am in charge of the school's nativity ??? AND THEN made a comment about my 'boyfriend' charles leclerc and now the whole school and WHOLE village think he is coming to the show ...

view all comments

yourbff: are you fucking dumb ???

yourusername: YES

yourbff: you told the headmaster that your boyfriend is CHARLES LECLERC ????

yourusername: i said it in JEST

yourusername: like ooohhhh my boyf charles

yourusername: and i guess that my framed picture of him on my desk definitely didn't help ...

yourbff: you have a framed picture of him on your desk...

yourusername: it was a christmas present from my cousin 😭

yourbff: oh but why would you have it on your desk - you're a primary school teacher all those kids do is ask questions

yourusername: why are you VICTIM BLAMING SO MUCH

yourbff: because you're DUMB

yourbrother: oh they're gonna stone you when they figure out it's not true

yourusername: they should know it's not true ITS CHARLES LECLERC

yourbrother: so you're saying you couldn't just go to monaco right now and pull him? disappointing

yourusername: 1. i'm broke as fuck 2. i am me and he is he

yourbrother: ugh such a skill issue

yourbff: bro it's hit f1twt

yourusername: WHAT

yourusername: who the fuck is on f1twt from our village

yourbff: maybe it was me...

yourusername: REALLY?

yourbff: no you actual dumbass

yourusername: no but for real these people are insane detectives they're going to figure out it's me and i'm going to be CANCELLED

yourbff: lol

yourusername: fuck you.

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, pierregasly and 1,034,289 others

tagged: arthurleclerc & lorenzotl

charles_leclerc: just a quiet christmas for the leclercs this year

view all comments

user4: because we're going to somerset right?

user5: does he know he's meant to be in somerset?

user6: does he know what a nativity is?

user7: girl he may be an f1 driver who didn't finish school but he's not THAT dumb

landonorris: why am i seeing that you're coming to my ends for christmas?

charles_leclerc: am i??? why would i want to spend even more time with you?

landonorris: first of all - rude. second of all i have literally seen posters about you coming to the village?

charles_leclerc: what is a village?

landonorris: okay mr monte carlo some of use aren't from a tax haven

charles_leclerc: also when you're this beautiful, people tend to paste your face everywhere, you can't relate

landonorris: even RUDER

landonorris: my young cousin goes to the school and is completely convinced that you're coming to the show and dating his teacher

charles_leclerc: WHAT

yourusername: oh my jesus christ

user8: and if that one girl on f1twt made it all up...

user9: would be the only good thing to come out of that place

pierregasly: what is this i'm hearing of you having a girlfriend? charles i am HURT

charles_leclerc: where are you all hearing all of this stuff?

pierregasly: twitter!

charles_leclerc: oh jesus christ

pierregasly: you've got yourself in a right mess

charles_leclerc: ME?

charles_leclerc: this is clearly the work of a downright lunatic or a lonely cat woman with FAR too much time on her hands

yourusername: oh he gagged me there

yourbff: heyyy you have a dog not a cat!

charles_leclerc: who are you people?

yourusername: NO ONE

user10: what on earth is going on

user11: and WHO is @yourusername

yourusername: NO ONE

landonorris

liked by pierregasly, oscarpiastri and 1,034,277 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

landonorris: look who came to see me :)

view all comments

user13: holy....

user14: oh charles at the nativity is still so on

user15: my hopes are simply too high now good lord

user16: lowkey hoping this is all one big lie from f1twt that has managed to convince ACTUAL drivers to go to a random village

oscarpiastri: how did he get an invite to the norris house before i did ?

oscarpiastri: do my 'heart eyes' mean nothing to you?

landonorris: no babe i can explain it's for the bit

charles_leclerc: babe?

oscarpiastri: stay out of this old man

charles_leclerc: that's no way to talk to your father

oscarpiastri: my father wouldn't do such things for 'the bit" WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN

landonorris: it's a joke osc

oscarpiastri: so i'm a joke to you? i see how it is

landonorris: NO THE TWITTER JOKE

landonorris: has he just put his phone on do not disturb?

charles_leclerc: he said he's going to bed (it is actually quite late in australia dude)

landonorris: how do you know that?

charles_leclerc: he replied to my text :)

landonorris: WHAT

charles_leclerc: family comes before whatever pathetic crush he has

user17: how have we gotten to this point?

user18: just smile and wave boys this is mental illness on show

charles_leclerc: you're right, having a crush on lando is mental illness

landonorris: then it's time to get your son sectioned!

alexalbon: well this has all gotten a bit serious now - can we get back to the actual reason charles is at your house?

yourusername: @yourbff oh brother this is getting TOO REAL

yourbff: to put it quite kindly you are royally FUCKED

yourusername: i might have to move to another country, change my name and get bangs :(

yourbff: NOT BANGS

landonorris: who are you people and why are you always camping out in our comment sections

yourusername: WE'RE NO ONe

landonorris: WAIT I HAVE MUTUALS WITH YOU?

landonorris: NOOOOOOOOO

landonorris: she blocked me?

yourbff

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 304 others

tagged: yourusername

yourbff: take a good look at her folks because i have reason to believe that if a certain someone turns up at the show she will KILL HERSELF. love you queen, rest in divadom

view all comments

yourusername: this sounds very dramatic

yourusername: but you are correct

yourusername: my life will come to a short and all round inconsequential end tonight

yourbff: it is dramatic

yourbff: but i understand queen

yourbff: your celebrity crush who you have had a parasocial relationship with for years is coming with the express purpose of embarrasing you because he believes you are a sad, sad woman who has created an elaborate lie that you're in a relationship

yourusername: well yeah that sums it up pretty well - you think you could put that on my head stone?

yourbff: i don't think we can afford that

landonorris: i can pay!

yourusername: AHHHHHHH

yourbff: AHHHHHH

landonorris: oh forgot to say but found you! we have a lot of mutual friends lol

landonorris: actually i think my mum and your mum are in the same book club!

yourusername: you're aware this is creepy?

landonorris: you're aware that pretending to be my friend's girlfriend is creepy

yourusername: THERE WAS A GROSS MISUNDERSTANDING OVER MY DESK DECOR

landonorris: sureeeeeee

yourusername: also charles isn't even the only man i have framed on my desk, i have my dog, justin from wizards of waverely place, jason kelce and marc marquez, he's just the one the old lady picked out

yourbrother: now we have actual f1 drivers in the comments, how can we get free tickets from them?

yourusername: so my impending suicide means nothing?

yourbrother: not really. i might take your car if you die

charles_leclerc: so this was all one big scheme to get tickets? there's no show ???

yourbrother: that's what you're focusing on? not that she has a whole town under the impression that you're dating some irrelevant primary school teacher?

yourusername: rude?

charles_leclerc: a primary school teacher? that's cute

yourusername: wait did you think i was just doing the nativity for the love of the game?

yourbrother: who gives a fuck he called you CUTE

yourusername: oh!

yourbrother: she passed out :/

charles_leclerc: i didn't know i had that kind of effect on people

landonorris: oh fuck off of course you do

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 1,539,056 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: met my long lost girlfriend (and most importantly her dog)

view all comments

user20: omg i do not know how to feel

user21: WHO WAS GOING TO TELL ME SHE'S THAT BEAUTIFUL

user22: i 100% thought the gal was gonna at least be in her 40s

landonorris: i guess she puts on a pretty good nativity

charles_leclerc: which kid is your cousin?

landonorris: the lobster!

pierregasly: LOBSTER?

charles_leclerc: @yourusername why was there a lobster?

yourusername: ummmm there's a lot of kids in the class and i was running out of roles? all animals are gods creations?

charles_leclerc: seems sacrilegious but it was cute <3

charles_leclerc: just like you

pierregasly: that was awful

yourusername: SHUT UP

yourusername: thank you charles :)

charles_leclerc: no worries princess x

user23: i am losing my mind ?????

user24: bro got tricked into going to SOMERSET and has actually fallen for her

user25: i mean ... look at her

yourusername: i do also have a cracking personality if i do say so myself

yourbff: oh girl you needed it after i held your hair back three times in the lead up to meeting charles

yourusername: and i will repay you somehow ???

yourbff: well.... now you've charmed a certain someone can we inquire about his pool of friends

landonorris: hi!

charles_leclerc: no not that one he's not cute enough

landonorris: you're really mean

charles_leclerc: @yourbff may i introduce my good buddy joris

landonorris: JORIS ???

charles_leclerc: well i regularly want to throttle you so i think it would be better to go on double dates with someone i actually like ?

user26: charles leclerc is the origin of the sassy man apocalypse

user27: i think the paddock was the start of it all

yourusername: i can't believe this actually happened :')

charles_leclerc: and i can't wait to see where it goes

yourusername: see you for new years pretty boy

charles_leclerc: i think i already know who my new years kiss might be

yourusername: i'm already waiting :3

fin.

note: i hope you all had a fun christmas! i had a great day with my family and am workin hard to get the rest of this series out!