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thefrontmanscockwarmer · 5 months ago

Note

HUSBAND IN HO SMUT PLEASE. SOMETHING ALONG THE LINES OF READER GETTING BRATTY AT AN IMPORTANT DINNER PARTY AND IN HO TAKES US HOME TO “TEACH A LESSON” 😩😩 (only if you are 100% comfortable with that request) I LOVE YOUR WRITING BTW U ARE A GENIUS

AWWW THANK YOUUUUUUU

Also note: this song came to mind but I couldn’t find a better one than this one, IM SORRY GUYS. I TRIED HONOR LANA BC WHY NOT

Masterlist <- comment here to be added to my taglist

Dinner Party

Player 001 x reader [SMUT] 📸

You and In Ho stood in the mirror, looking at yourselves as you got dressed and prepared to go out. Your gold dress matched his black suit and gold tie perfectly. Your wedding rings shiny and bright.

You smiled at his as he adjusted his tie. What a fine couple you were. Clothes so expensive a name isn’t on them. A dress made by Alexander McQueen himself and shoes designed to accompany them. In Ho’s outfit was a casually tailored piece by a man you’d never heard of. Handsome and expensive, just how you liked it.

“Darling” you say absently toying with the charms on your bracelet. “What time will the car be here?”

“In a minute, we should probably go downstairs” he said as he sprayed cologne on, you followed suit with the woman’s version. He gripped your hand as you walked down the stairs of your penthouse apartment in the middle of Seoul.

Time skip:

You sat bored at the table complete with men, and some women, one of which was hitting on your husband.

“Honey, is my ring big enough?” You say drably showing the woman. “He keeps saying the ring is too small for his wife, that I need a bigger diamond” In Ho cleared his throat.

“Yes honey, I’ll buy you a new ring tomorrow”

“no i want it now” you pout.

“(Y/n), I said tomorrow. Stop acting up” he said sharply. He looked at the woman who was now too embarrassed to talk. He put his eyes on the investor across from him. Beginning to talk about funding for the next set of games. You flagged a waiter,

“I’d like more wine please” you say. Moments later he returned, filling your glass until you ordered him to stop. You stood up, your eyes flying around you. Looking at the woman as she walked to the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” He gripped your wrist. His eyes not leaving the investor as he spoke. Engaged in conversation.

“The restroom” you pull your arm away.

“Not with the glass of wine, don’t be rude.” He said. “It is impolite to carry a glass to the restroom”

“Ah no, Hwang, we don’t mind” one of the investors said, overhearing. “Besides, the drunker the better” he added with a wink. In Ho chuckled. You walked away quickly, to the restroom. You leaned haphazardly against the sink, glass of red wine in hand.

The woman exited the stall, pausing as she saw you.

“Oh excuse me” you say as you pushed past her. The wine threatening to spill over the rim of the glass.

You used the restroom and when you returned she was still there.

“Is there a reason you’re still here?” You spit venomously. “I’m surprised you’re not out there flirting with my husband”

“Don’t act so spoiled” she returned coldly.

“How can I possibly act spoiled when I am spoiled? Do you not know how it works, honey?” You laugh lightly.

“A bigger ring, pfft. Your rings already the size of Korea” she scoffed. “Your dress is shabby, poor looking”

“Yes, says the woman dressed as Hilary Clinton from the 2016 American Presidential Debate” you throw your head back. She fumed at you heatedly, her eyes fierce. “You want to see how spoiled I really am? I’ll ruin my Alexander McQueen dress and watch how my husband reacts” you spilt wine, her eyes widening as she realized what you were going to do.

You screamed loudly, she darted out of the bathroom. You waited a moment before stomping out in your soiled dress. You walked straight behind her and dumped the remainder of your glass on her head. In Ho shot straight up to face you, your soiled dress burning his eyes.

He looked down at the woman, then back at you as your make up started to smudge as you faked tears. He fumed at you. His face screwed up in anger.

“I’m gonna have to take this one home” he spoke calmly. “Teach her a lesson. I’ll be back gentlemen” he picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder and walking towards the penthouse.

“Put me down” you beat against his back.

“No.” He said sharply. “I am palm-achingly mad” a slap against your ass. “I cannot believe you. Acting that way in front of the investors, and that woman. Oh my god, (y/n), I swear you are the most bratty girl I have ever been around”

“I am a woman” you sassed.

“Not with the way you were acting” he made it to the doors of the penthouse building. Walking inside you held yourself up on his buttocks, waving to the doorman.

“Hi Tang-sho” you smiled. The doorman nodded as you got into the elevator. In Hi standing stiffly as you squirmed in his arms. “Can I get down?” You ask impatiently.

“No.” You finally reached the top floor, In Ho walked into the grand room. Setting you down in front of a mirror, “take off the dress. Get on all fours and face the mirror”

“But I-“

“Don’t want to hear it. You need to learn something and learn it now.” In Ho pulled his slacks to his ankles as you undid your dress, doing as he asked. A sharp palm came down against your ass. “You cannot behave that way”

You moaned loudly, arching your back at the delicious pain. Another slap on your ass.

“You cannot behave like that at an important dinner party” two more slaps in your ass, your cheek red, In Ho’s hand print forming.

“Yes daddy” you say as you sink down to your chest, further pushing your ass up to him. Your arousal as vividly dripping from your cunt as he slapped both of your cheeks, reddening them.

"Fuck you, (y/n)" he whispered in your ear. His anger and lust combined into one emotion, creating a whole new meaning to the word, fuck. He was mad and turned on.

"Do it then, In Ho" you whisper in his. He rammed into you. He pulled your hair as he roughly fucked you on the floor.

"Do you know, how hard I tried to keep myself together (y/n)?" He bit your neck. Your nails scratching down his biceps as he fucked you relentlessly.

"No" you moan.

"No?" He growls. "Being here, fucking you relentlessly when I should be at an important dinner isn't a clue?" He said working on leaving hickeys in your neck and chest.

You creaming as you tightened around him. Moans of pleasure getting louder as you neared your climax.

"Fuck, fuck, fuckkk. You're close aren't you?" You nodded. "Tell me when you're about to. I want to hear you say it."

Your moans turned him on so much more.

"I'm coming" you say breathing heavily.

"What?"

"Fuck, In Ho, I'm coming"

"One more time." His grunted as he gave three rough pounds in between each word.

"Fuckkk In Ho! I'm coming, I'm coming" you began to tear up. He pulled out and flipped you so you were in missionary, so he could see your pretty face.

"No you're not" he growls as he hammers your pussy. The sound of balls slapping skin, and moans and grunts fillling the room.

"I'm sorry" you cry. "Daddy please let me come."

"You're sorry?"

"Yes" you scream.

"Then show me" he says letting go of your hips.

"Fuck me like this to show me you're sorry" you grinded your hips on his cock roughly but at a staggered pace. He could see your body spending and he decided to finish you off. Just the way you liked it.

"I'm sorry I fucked up my rhythm" he says in your ear. "I just wanted to see how gorgeous you look without watching your face through a mirror" he grabs your neck and thrusts into you . Your back arched off the tile, eyes red, and tears streaming down your face. You screamed as he roughly pounded you.

"Look at you" he said sweetly. "So pretty for daddy" your faced moved as he dogged your clenching pussy hole. "Sooo fucking beautiful"

"Fuck fuck fuck (y/n). Can I bust in there?" He groans as you begin to pull him to the edge. You nodded. "Can daddy cum in that tight pussy?" He asks again.

"Yes please, In Ho, please" you cry your core burned. You began to orgasm. He pulled your head up again.

"Let's cum together" he says as he began to cum, filling you up, you were soaking his dick with your juices, squirting around his dick.

"Good girl" he says as he fucked you till the end of his climax. Thrusts getting sloppy as he pulled out. He stood up, putting his cock back in his pants and zipping himself back up, he helped you to your feet. Leading you to the bathroom to fix your make up, grabbing you a spare gold dress from the closet with a new pair of shoes to match.

“Are you ready to behave yourself?” He asked.

“Yes daddy” you smile sweetly. Letting his help you get dressed again. Your pussy ruined from his cum inside of you.

Taglist:

@christinamadsen @sebbymybaby21 @player279achlys @galaxygurlll @whamzou @watasinekoru @angelofthorr @amandalol1414 @supersonika143

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yourgothiccqueen · 1 year ago

Text

LN4 - “Formula One Sucks” Part 2

Summary: Y/N and Lando go on their first date.

Pairings: Lando Norris x Female Reader

Warnings: Swearing, hints of sexual tension etc

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3

Masterlist

*Ping*

Y/N glanced down at her phone, a small smile forming at her lips. There would only be one person messaging her so late at night.

lightning mcqueen: Soooo, what did you think of the race today? :)

The last thing she expected to happen after her begrudging trip to Silverstone was to end up texting a certain McLaren driver.

Well, it was more than texting really. There were calls too, every other day. Lando was a busy (understatement of the year) guy, but they’d found themselves falling into a comfortable routine of late night conversations.

y/n: didn’t watch it, was too busy washing my dog :,)

A lie, of course. Y/N had recently found herself infatuated with F1. She hadn’t missed a race. But she wasn’t going to let Lando feel smug about that.

lightning mcqueen: u little shit, you don’t have a dog!

y/n: says who?!

lightning mcqueen: you, on the phone last week!

y/n: 🤷‍♀️ maybe I was washing my friends dog?

lightning mcqueen: its okay, no need for lies - i know ur an f1 super fan now thanks to yours truly :D

Y/N felt a smile tug at her lips. Okay, he was smug. But it was kinda cute.

y/n: okayyyy, perhaps I did watch. And perhaps I thought you were rather impressive. happy now?

lightning mcqueen: very :) goodnight grumpy girl x

y/n: goodnight u smug bastard x

————————————————————-

It didn’t take long for him to ask her on a date. It caught her by surprise, despite the ease at which they’d been chatting over the past month.

“What do you even wear on a date with an F1 driver?” Y/N groaned, flopping back on to her bed.

Piles of clothes were scattered around the room, deemed totally unacceptable for a date with Lando Norris.

“Not this.” Her friend Annie, grimaced, picking up a bright pink Oodie off of the floor.

“Yeah no shit!”

“Look, you must have something in here.” Annie rummaged through the wardrobe. “Where’s he taking you anyway?”

“Someplace in central. It’s not too fancy, but it’s definitely fancier than the pink Oodie.” Y/N pointed.

“Oooo. This could work!” Annie pulled out a relatively new, seemingly unworn black dress. “Can’t go wrong with a little black dress.”

Y/N’s eyes widen - “I can’t wear that!”

“Why the hell not?”

“It’s too…showy. I bought it on a whim. For a nice occasion.”

Annie rolled her eyes “if you’re not going to wear it on a date with a super hot formula one driver, then when the hell are you gonna wear it?!”

Fair point.

———————————————————

Stood outside the restaurant, Y/N felt her nerves begin to grow. What the hell was she doing? She didn’t do this sort of thing! If she’d had told herself a month ago that she’d be going on a date with Lando, she’d have laughed in her own face. This was wild. This was ridiculous. This was positively insane in fact!

“Y/N?”

Suddenly whipped out of her own thoughts, Y/N turned around.

Oh god, he looked bloody gorgeous.

He smiled at her, his eyes twinkling as he did. His white shirt was a stark contrast against his tan skin. His curly hair was slightly more tamed than usual - he’d clearly made an effort, which made Y/N’s heart race even faster.

“Hey!” She managed to stutter out, sounding far more confident than she felt inside.

“Hi! God I’m so sorry I’m late, were you waiting long?” Lando queried.

Y/N had failed to notice that he was late in the first place, having been so in her own head.

“No just got here.” She smiled. “You look really nice.” She paused, a fleeting moment of confidence. “For a smug bastard, of course.”

A quick laugh left Lando’s mouth.

“Ha! You look lovely too, despite being the world's grumpiest woman, of course.”

“Oh of course.” Y/N giggled, as they made their way inside.

He’d chosen well - it was beautiful inside the restaurant, but not fancy enough to make Y/N feel uncomfortable.

Y/N placed her phone down on the table as she sat, and Lando couldn’t help but catch a glimpse.

“Wait, why am I called Lightning McQueen in your phone?” He laughed.

“Because you’re fast - duh!”

“Lightning McQueen is red.” Lando retorted, a look of exasperation written across his face, as he made himself comfortable in his chair.

“So?”

Lando rolled his eyes, jokingly.

"There's nothing wrong with red cars!" Y/N exclaimed.

“Well, I prefer orange myself. Gimme your phone, I’ve got a better name.”

“If I must”

Y/N passed her phone across the table and into Lando's hand. His fingers brushed hers as she did so. Despite their playful bickering, she couldn't help but wish she could leave her hand on his a moment longer.

God, she was fully gone and she'd only been sat in his presence for less than five minutes. He was going to be the death of her.

Lando typed into Y/N’s phone momentarily, before passing it back, a small smirk on his face.

“Lando ‘The Hunk’ Norris?” She laughed, eyebrows raising. “Really?”

“Well, it’s much more accurate, don’t you think?”

He folded his arms across his chest. Y/N felt herself begin to blush, so decided the sane response was to hide herself behind the menu.

"Well?" Lando quipped.

"Well what, Lando 'The Hunk' Norris?" Y/N spoke, glancing up at the curly haired man. His eyes bore into hers, a slight mischievous glint to them.

"Aren't you going to agree?"

"You want me to tell you that you are in fact, a 'hunk'?" She retorted.

Lando leaned back in his chair. "I suppose I don't need you to. The fact that you've gone bright red says it all."

Y/N felt her blush deepen.

"You're a cocky bastard. you know that?"

"I haven't had any complaints yet."

---------------------------------------------------

The rest of the date passed in a blur of midly flirtatious comments and an abundance of sexual innuendos. Y/N wasn't sure what she had been expecting when she'd agreed to a date with Lando. She'd presumed he'd be polite, and sincere and kind - which he was. But what she hadn't anticipated was his quick wit and his ability to call her out. She liked it. She liked it very much indeed.

Perhaps she'd finally met her match.

By the time they left the restaurant the sun had long set, and a light drizzle had set in.

Y/N felt the breath leave her lungs as Lando took his hand in hers.

"Thank you." He smiled, softly.

"What for, exactly?" She questioned, half unable to focus on anything except the feeling of his warm hand in hers.

"For...this. It's not often I get to meet someone who... makes me feel so normal. Someone who isn't afraid to say what's on their mind. It's nice."

Once again, a blush crept up Y/N's neck and towards her cheeks.

"Well, I am pretty incredible." She winked.

"Oh, shut up!"

"Make me."

Lando stepped forward, and in one breathe his lips crashed into her own. It was messy at first, filled with passion and unresolved sexual tension, before they found their rhythm. She closed her eyes, feeling his strong hands wrapped around her waist. His mouth molded against hers, warmth spilling throughout her body. He was perfect. His mouth moved in perfect timing against hers, as she entwined her hands at the base of his hair, letting her fingers run through his curls. She could stand her forever, she thought, with her body pressed against his, his mouth against hers.

Eventually, Y/N pulled away first, gazing up into Lando's darkened eyes. His lips were swollen and wet - she already wanted to kiss him again.

"Want to continue this date at mine?" She whispered, unable to leave his gaze.

"Say no more."

#lando Norris x reader #lando norris one shot #lando norris x you #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #lando Norris x female reader #Lando #Lando Norris imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #fluff #FYP #lando Norris #McLaren

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kathlare · 2 months ago

Text

just friends

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando and Amelie find themselves unexpectedly thrown into a chaotic evening of babysitting together.

Wordcount: 5.5 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

August 15th, 2020 - Barcelona, Spain

liked by sheissecretdrunk, softdrs, and others

f1teaofficial:🔥 SPOTTED: Amelie Dayman pulling up to the Barcelona paddock today… with Charles Leclerc by her side??

View all 21,111 comments

softdrs: charles walking in like he didn’t just steal another man’s girlfriend → landoismylockscreen: @softdrs he’s braver than the marines → lanfanpage: @softdrs someone check on Lando. immediately.

quadgirl4life: if this is PR i need their agent’s number bc i’m INVESTED → racelov3r: @racelov3r literally sitting here like it’s a romcom and i already picked a side → sunburnedbabe: @racelov3r i’m team lanmelie but i fear charmelie has the chemistry

sheissecretdrunk: lando seeing this while doing a track walk somewhere like 😐

lanmelie4life: lando saw this and immediately started stress-cleaning his hotel room

childhoodbestiescore: they've been friends since diapers pls stop making it weird → pitlaneprincesss: @childhoodbestiescore but also… if they kissed i wouldn’t be mad → charlovescarbs: @childhoodbestiescore childhood friends to lovers is a trope for a reason

wheresthesoftlaunch: this is giving me buffer boyfriend energy → lanfan_99: @wheresthesoftlaunch nah she def told charles “walk in with me so the lando rumors chill” → ferrarisimp69: @wheresthesoftlaunch and it did the exact opposite LMAO

daymaniac: she’s the main character and the drivers are just her love interests → gridgirlieeee: @daymaniac netflix could NEVER write this plot → drsfordayman: @daymaniac someone get this woman a helmet she’s running the grid

-------------

The Barcelona sun was merciless, but at least the paddock had a breeze this morning. Amelie adjusted her oversized sunglasses, mask snug on her face as she walked side by side with Charles toward the Ferrari motorhome.

—You’re gonna be fine,— she said, nudging him lightly with her elbow. —Don’t overthink turn ten again.—

Charles huffed. —I’m not. I just don’t trust it. It’s too wide. It’s suspicious.—

Amelie snorted. —You sound like Björn when I change his litter box. Distrustful for no reason.—

He stopped just in front of the door and looked down at her. —You staying for FP3?—

She shook her head. —Nah, gonna grab an iced coffee and hide from the heat. But I’ll be back for quali, promise.—

—Text me if you see something weird with the car.—

—You’re literally surrounded by engineers.—

—But they’re not you.—

She rolled her eyes but smiled. —Go. You’re already late, drama queen.—

Charles winked and disappeared through the door. She turned on her heel and started toward the hospitality building, already peeling her mask off as she stepped inside the cool, air-conditioned space.

There was only one thing on her mind.

—Iced coffee. Iced coffee. Iced coffee.— she mumbled under her breath like a prayer.

She approached the bar and the barista immediately perked up. —Hola, Amelie! Lo de siempre?—

—Sí, por favor. Grande. Extra hielo.— she added, pressing her hands together dramatically.

As he nodded and turned away to make it, she sighed, letting her sunglasses fall to rest on her head.

—Amelie.—

That tone.

She knew that tone.

She slowly turned her head and, just as predicted, saw her sister Stella standing there, a baby on her hip (Carlota, squirming and babbling), and a toddler clinging to her hand (Chequito, wearing his McQueen bucket hat and looking dangerously close to a tantrum).

Stella’s expression was deceptively sweet.

Amelie froze. —Oh no. No. No, no, no, no. You’re not doing this.—

—I need a favor.—

—Absolutely not.—

Stella’s smile widened. —Please.—

—No. The last time you said that, I ended up covered in vomit and fucking Play-Doh.—

Carlota squealed on cue, like she was in on the ambush.

—I’m serious. Checo and I have a date tonight.—

—Gross.—

—We haven’t had time alone in forever. We’re staying at the hotel tonight. I booked it. I got the dress. I waxed.—

—Jesus Christ, Stella.—

—You think I’m doing all that and not getting laid?—

—Please stop talking.—

—So I need you to babysit. Just for a few hours. Until we’re back in the morning.—

Amelie clutched her iced coffee like it was her last hope. —I told Charles I’d go play padel with him.—

Stella blinked. —You don’t play padel.—

—I could!— Amelie said, too defensively.

Stella raised an eyebrow. —You nearly passed out doing three squats last week because you didn’t eat breakfast.—

—I had breakfast!—

—A Red Bull and a piece of gum doesn’t count.—

—That’s a classic Mexican breakfast and you know it.—

—Amelie.—

Amelie groaned loudly, nearly banging her head against the bar. —I hate you.—

—You love me.—

—You’re going to get railed while I’m wiping someone else’s ass.—

—It’s called sisterhood.—

Chequito tugged on Amelie’s shirt then and looked up at her with big brown eyes. —Titina, can we watch Cars again?—

Amelie stared at him, deadpan. —This is emotional blackmail.—

Stella just grinned, bouncing Carlota gently on her hip. —So you’ll do it?—

Amelie stared into the void, then took a long, soul-searching sip of her iced coffee. God, she really needed to stop being a pushover. Or at least start charging babysitting fees like an actual adult. She was technically famous. She should not be subject to diaper duty. She had a team. She had contracts. She had standards.

...And yet here she was.

—Fine,— she muttered, defeated. —But if either of them shits on me again, I’m calling Child Services.—

—Deal.— Stella leaned in and kissed the top of Amelie’s head, Carlota immediately grabbing a fistful of her curls and tugging like she was trying to extract secrets. —You’re the best. We’ll drop them off after quali. Their pajamas are in the bag. Snacks too. They’ve been a little cranky lately, but I’m sure you can handle it.—

—Why do you say that like I’m not going to end up duct-taping them to the ceiling?—

—Because I believe in you.—

Amelie looked down at Chequito, who was now doing a weird little dance that suspiciously looked like he needed to pee. Carlota sneezed all over Stella’s neck.

—Great. I’m going to die surrounded by sticky children and Pixar references.—

—You’ll live.—

—Can I at least order takeout?—

—Of course. Just don’t give Carlota mango again. You know what happened.—

Amelie grimaced. She remembered. Too vividly.

Stella blew her a kiss and wandered off toward the Racing Point garage, hips swaying, probably already fantasizing about whatever romantic (and unfortunately probably X-rated) shit Checo had planned. Amelie, meanwhile, leaned against the counter and slammed the rest of her iced coffee like it was tequila.

Babysitting. During a race weekend. Because of course.

She checked the time, groaned, and texted Charles.

Ames: not playing padel tonight. Ames: babysitting. again. Ames: tell checo i hope his back breaks.

She didn’t expect a reply so soon.

Charlie: 😭😭😭 rip Charlie: don’t let them bully you Charlie: (jk ur stuck enjoy the chaos) Charlie: also checo is already stretching for the occasion Ames: i’m gonna block you

As she was about to put her phone away, a new notification popped up.

Lan: heard from charles ur babysitting tonight Lan: need backup? Lan: i’m really good at snacks and terrible jokes

She blinked.

She hadn’t told him. Charles, that little traitor. Of course he’d told Lando. And of course Lando was already volunteering to show up like some golden retriever boyfriend...

No. No. They were just friends.

Kinda.

With some kissing.

And a lot of cuddling.

And sleeping over.

And longing looks.

And her stupid heart doing stupid things.

Ames: no backup Ames: i’m fine Ames: gonna lock them in the bathroom and vibe ✌🏼 Lan: okay but i have cars 2 downloaded Lan: and jelly worms Lan: just saying

She hesitated, fingers hovering above the screen. Because, God, he would be good with the kids. He already was good with them. Chequito had once told her Lando was “better than Lightning McQueen,” and that was basically sacred praise. Carlota let him hold her without screaming. Björn didn’t claw his eyes out. That was nearly miraculous.

But if he came over... tonight... while she was wrangling toddlers... in pajamas... and probably no makeup... what if she just gave in? What if she stopped pretending she didn’t want him?

What if she let herself fall?

She hated how much she wanted to say yes.

And maybe that was the problem.

Ames: jelly worms & cars 2? Ames: you had me at trash cinema Ames: bring yourself. and snacks. Ames: you’re in charge of bath time tho. Lan: deal. Lan: see you tonight, mama bear 🧡

Amelie rolled her eyes so hard her lashes nearly flew off, but the smile that curled on her lips was annoyingly unstoppable.

Shit. She was so screwed.

—You're gonna regret this,— she muttered to herself.

Chequito appeared again, out of nowhere, like a tiny haunting. —Titina! I did a fart.—

Yup.

She was definitely going to regret this.

-------------

liked by charlesbestieera, f1gossipgirl, and others

daymanupdates: Amelie spotted watching quali from Ferrari hospitality today in Barcelona 🔴✨ Looking effortlessly stunning as usual

View all 11,071 comments

softlaunchqueen: red looks good on her but let’s not forget her heart is papaya-coded → lanfanacc: @softlaunchqueen lando’s out here fighting for points and his life

charlesbestieera: childhood besties to ferrari royalty. we love to see it → ferrarifairytales: @charlesbestieera charles def saved her a seat like “this one's for the dayman” → tifosibaddie: @charlesbestieera they better show this on the broadcast or i’m suing

gridgossip: lando seeing her in ferrari like “so this is what betrayal feels like”

sheissecretdrunk: she’s not a wag she’s the paddock’s first lady → drsfordayman: @sheissecretdrunk and all the teams are just her ministries → ames4grid: @sheissecretdrunk atp FIA should give her a seat on the board

daymanoverdrive: the only thing hotter than the track temps is her in ferrari hospitality → tifosibaby: @daymanoverdrive she’s the real prancing horse and everyone knows it

softlaunchcentral: she’s either starting a civil war or a love triangle and honestly? i’m here for it → pitwallpsychic: @softlaunchcentral lando vs charles: who gets the final rose 🌹

mclarenmistress: LANDO STAY STRONG BRO 😭 → landosburner: @mclarenmistress he's in the garage pretending he doesn’t care but his helmet’s fogging up

formulafits: ferrari PR must be thriving bc she’s singlehandedly boosting morale

-------------

The sun had finally dipped beneath the Barcelona skyline, painting the paddock in golds and oranges as the day wound to a close. Amelie stood near the edge of the McLaren hospitality, iced coffee long gone, holding the straps of her handbag with one hand and her phone in the other, refreshing messages out of habit. Lando had texted ten minutes ago saying he’d be out any second.

She was sticky with sweat, her feet a little sore from walking in heels all day, and her sunglasses now sat propped on her head, pushing her hair back. She was mentally preparing herself to spend the next twelve hours as part-time nanny, full-time Pixar hostage.

Footsteps padded up behind her and a familiar voice grinned into her ear.

—Miss me?—

She didn’t even flinch. Just smirked as Lando’s arm casually slid around her waist, his curls still a little damp from the post-quali shower, smelling like clean soap and something vaguely citrusy and boyish. Unfair.

—Only like a rash,— she said, leaning into his side anyway.

—Charming as ever.— He kissed the side of her head. —Ready for our very glamorous evening of diapers and Disney?—

—Don’t get too excited. One of them already farted on me earlier and the other one thinks biting is an appropriate love language.—

—So… basically your exact type?—

She elbowed him, but her smile betrayed her.

They started walking together, weaving through the thinning crowds as team members packed down equipment and journalists wound up their post-session analysis. Lando took the bags she was carrying without asking, slinging them over his shoulder like it was nothing, as they headed toward Racing Point where Stella was already waiting.

Carlota was asleep in her arms, cheek smushed against Stella’s shoulder, while Chequito sat on the ground dramatically playing with a Hot Wheels car and muttering something about "pit stops."

Stella looked up at the pair with a grin that said I win.

—Right on time,— she said, gently transferring the sleeping baby to Amelie’s arms. Carlota didn’t even stir, already dead to the world in that floppy, toddler way.

Amelie adjusted her hold, instinctively swaying a little side to side like she’d done it a thousand times. Chequito immediately stood up and launched himself at her legs.

—TITINA!—

She let out an oomph but didn’t drop the baby. That was a win. —Hey, buddy. Excited for your sleepover?—

—We brought the Lightning McQueen pajamas!—

Lando chuckled and ruffled the boy’s curls. —Solid fashion choice, mate. Gotta respect the classics.—

Stella handed over two safety seats and a duffel bag full of what looked like a week’s worth of supplies. —Diapers, wipes, snacks, clothes, the tablets, chargers. Oh, and Carlota’s bunny. Don’t lose it. She’ll go nuclear.—

Amelie blinked. —This is an overnight stay, not a two-week expedition through the Andes.—

—I pack for every possibility. And you should too. You’re outnumbered.—

—You’re going to hell for this,— Amelie muttered, Carlota’s drool already soaking into her top.

—Worth it,— Stella sang, blowing a kiss before slipping off with a spring in her step and the unmistakable aura of someone who was about to have uninterrupted sex for the first time in weeks.

Lando watched her go and exhaled a laugh. —She’s a menace.—

—She’s Satan in Lulu leggings.—

They made their way to the car. Carlota was still asleep in Amelie’s arms, cheek now glued to her collarbone, while Chequito clung to her other hand babbling about how he wanted spaghetti for dinner but only if it came with shaped cheese. Lando juggled both car seats and the duffel like a dad in training, slightly winded but pretending otherwise.

They reached the car.

And that’s when it hit them.

Lando stared at the seats. Then the car. Then the seats again.

Amelie adjusted Carlota, looked at him, and said what they were both thinking.

—How the fuck do we put these in?—

Lando blinked. —...I thought you knew.—

—Why would I know?! I don't have kids!—

—You babysit them all the time!—

—Yeah, in their house! Where their car seats are already installed like they magically live there!—

Lando was staring at the seat like it had personally offended him. —It has so many straps. Why are there so many straps?—

—It’s like a BDSM puzzle box,— Amelie muttered, staring at the plastic latch system like it might bite.

Chequito, entirely unbothered by the rising chaos, sat cross-legged on the sidewalk and started singing the Cars theme song at full volume.

Lando crouched by the backseat, unboxing the first car seat like it was a bomb. —Okay. There’s like… anchors? Or hooks? Or something.—

—It has a diagram. Look.— Amelie leaned over, pointing at a tiny, incomprehensible stick-figure illustration. —Okay no, that looks like a man being consumed by an octopus. Never mind.—

Carlota stirred slightly and let out a tiny whine, her hand tightening in Amelie’s shirt. She bounced gently, patting her back. —Okay, we need to hurry or she’s gonna wake up. And if she wakes up before dinner, it’s game over.—

Lando took a deep breath. —Okay. Okay. We’re two semi-intelligent adults. We can figure this out. Together.—

They both crouched, eyeing the car seat like it might spontaneously combust.

Amelie squinted. —What if I YouTube it?—

—What if we call Charles and make him do it?—

—I’d rather chew glass.—

They eventually managed it. After fifteen minutes of swearing, one near head injury, Carlota briefly waking and then falling back asleep on Amelie’s shoulder, and Chequito somehow managing to stick a fruit gummy to the ceiling of the car.

But by some miracle—and the help of a French YouTube dad with a soothing voice—they got the seats locked in, kids buckled, snacks distributed, and bags stacked in the trunk.

Lando closed the car door and looked at Amelie, who was now barefoot, makeup-smudged, and completely worn down. She looked back at him with the dazed expression of someone who had just returned from war.

And still. He smiled.

—You’re really hot when you wrestle with child safety equipment.—

Amelie laughed, high and exhausted, leaning her head against the side of the car. —You’re disgusting.—

Lando just grinned, brushing a curl from her cheek. —You like it.—

She huffed, but didn’t deny it.

The drive to the hotel started off peacefully. Miraculously so. Carlota was fully passed out, head slumped to one side in her seat, bunny tucked safely beneath one chubby arm. Chequito was zoned into Cars 2 on the tablet, jelly worms half-melted in his palm like battle scars. The hum of the tires on the road was almost soothing.

Amelie sat in the front passenger seat, arms crossed loosely, her head tilted to watch Lando at the wheel. He looked too good, even in the low glow of the dashboard. Forearms flexed just enough when he turned, jawline sharp in the shadows, curls messy from where he’d run his hand through them twenty times during the car seat war. He glanced at her and caught her looking, his smile all smug and boyish.

She immediately looked out the window. God. No. Nope. Absolutely not.

But her stomach was doing that thing again. The stupid flip.

The same flip it did every time he touched her shoulder. Or made her laugh. Or looked at her like that.

She should have known. She should have prepared. Because now it was just them, in the dark, in the quiet, and her brain wouldn’t stop imagining what would happen if they were alone. Really alone. If the kids were asleep and he leaned in, all warm skin and teasing smile, and just...

Nope.

Nope nope nope.

Abort mission.

She knew she had to do something. Fast.

Without thinking, she pulled out her phone, her fingers moving on their own accord as she texted a quick message to the only people who might be able to save her from this mess:

Ames: Help. Babysit the kids.

She hit send and immediately cursed under her breath, knowing exactly who she had just summoned.

-------------

liked by lanmelieupdates, f1gossipgirl, and others

lanmelie.truther: Lando just posted this adorable pic of Amelie baby-sitting his nephew tonight and I’m losing it 😭💖

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f1.sluttycorner: so we’re just pretending this isn’t a preview of their future family?? → charleslemonade: @f1sluttycorner if i see lando holding a baby in 5 years i’m FLYING to monaco to throw a wedding → paddockwhisperer: @f1sluttycorner same, i’m RSVPing in advance

lanmelie4ever: OKAY BUT WHO’S BABY IS THIS, LANDO? → sunshinelando: @lanmelie4ever it’s his nephew and you know damn well he’s already imagining what their kids would look like

pitlaneprincess: she’s already got the “best auntie” energy

f1sluttycorner: you can tell they’re both in their “i’m ready to be parents” era → gridgossip: @f1sluttycorner he’s definitely practicing dad jokes already → landosleftglove: @f1sluttycorner he’s probably already googling “how to change a diaper”

mclarenmistress: this picture is the softest thing I’ve seen all week → amesfan22: @mclarenmistress imagine them babysitting together, they’d be too cute to handle

lanmelifanclub: they’re literally co-parenting in 4k and still saying “just friends” 💀 → landoismydad: @lanmeliefanclub i’ve seen romcoms start with less

daymanxdrs: that baby is living my dream life rn

mclarengossip: lando posting her with her NEPHEW is such dad-coded behavior → wagwhisperer: @mclarengossip he’s giving “family man who makes pancakes on Sundays”

gridbabies: this child doesn’t know it but he’s witnessing history

-------------

Dinner was finally done. Carlota had gone down like a felled tree—out cold the second her head hit the pillow, clutching her bunny like it held the key to her survival. Chequito, still buzzed on spaghetti and shaped cheese, had been harder to wind down. But now he was planted on the hotel suite’s sofa, a little human burrito wrapped in his Lightning McQueen blanket, tablet balanced on his lap, eyes glazed as Cars began for what had to be the fiftieth time that month.

Amelie stood at the kitchenette sink, sleeves rolled up, hands submerged in warm soapy water as she scrubbed at a dish with slow, circular motions. The suite was quiet save for the low volume of the movie and the gentle clink of cutlery.

Her body ached in that soft, post-chaos way. Like she’d just survived a storm. She didn’t even mind doing the dishes—there was something grounding about it after a day of chaos and overstimulation. Rinse, scrub, stack. Predictable. Mindless. Safe.

Until Lando walked up behind her.

She didn’t hear him at first—he was always too good at that. Moving quietly. A ghost in socks.

But then his voice came, low and warm, just over her shoulder.

—Need a hand?—

She startled slightly, water splashing over her wrist. —Jesus, Norris, you can’t just sneak up on people. I almost threw a fork at you.—

He chuckled, utterly unbothered. —Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve tried to stab me.—

She shot him a glance over her shoulder—and immediately regretted it. He was close. Too close. The kind of close that made her head buzz and her throat go dry.

Lando, oblivious to his own gravitational pull, leaned against the counter beside her, his eyes on her face, then her hands, then her mouth. Like he couldn’t decide where to land.

Amelie swallowed, trying to focus on the plate she was rinsing. Her fingers were starting to prune.

—You were good with them today,— he said, softly, almost like it wasn’t meant for her to hear.

She gave a small shrug. —They’re good kids. I just bribe them with food and cartoons. Pretty foolproof.—

He smiled, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly. —Still. You make it look easy.—

The air between them thickened. Her hands slowed. She could feel the heat of him next to her, his arm brushing hers every time she moved. She knew she should say something else, change the subject, make a joke. But her brain had short-circuited.

Lando took another step closer. Not touching. But close enough that she could feel the pull of him.

—You know,— he murmured, eyes flicking to hers, —I’ve been dying to kiss you again since Hawaii.—

Her breath caught. Her heart flatlined and restarted in the same second.

She turned slightly, their faces inches apart now. The kitchen light above them buzzed faintly. The only sound in the world was the splash of water and Chequito humming along to the Cars soundtrack from the other room.

—Lando...— she started, but it wasn’t a protest. It wasn’t anything coherent. Because all she could think about was the way his gaze dropped to her lips.

He was going to kiss her.

Finally.

Her fingers trembled. Her whole body leaned without realizing, just the slightest tilt toward him...

Knock knock knock.

They both froze.

Amelie blinked, lips parted, still breathless. Lando took a single step back, jaw clenched, eyes flicking toward the door like it had just insulted his mother.

He exhaled sharply. —You expecting someone?—

Amelie ran a hand through her damp hair, cheeks flushed, voice dry. —Yeah.—

She padded to the door and opened it to reveal, of course, them.

George, Alex, and Charles stood there like the Three Stooges of Babysitting, each with an energy drink in hand and smug little smirks on their faces.

George blinked. —You look like we just walked in on something illegal.—

Alex peered past her into the suite. —Did we interrupt some adult time?—

Charles tilted his head. —Is it too late to un-come? Should we wait outside? Pretend we never saw anything?—

Amelie sighed and stepped aside. —Get in before I change my mind.—

They poured in like they owned the place. Charles immediately beelined to Chequito, ruffling his hair and settling on the floor beside him like some overgrown toddler. George flopped onto the armchair like it had offended him earlier, and Alex wandered toward the kitchenette, already eyeing the fridge like it might contain something other than juice boxes and leftover pasta.

Amelie lingered at the door for a second longer, forcing her heartbeat to slow. When she turned, Lando was still by the sink, jaw tight, hands now shoved deep into his pockets like he needed somewhere to put the tension.

She couldn’t look at him. Not properly. Not when her lips still tingled with the almost.

Instead, she moved past him without a word, grabbing a towel and pretending to dry plates that were already dry. She could feel his eyes on her, hot and confused.

—Alright,— George said, kicking his feet up, —who’s up for Uno and unrelenting emotional violence?—

—I’m getting the wine,— Alex announced, already opening cabinets.

—Why are you acting like this is your suite?— Amelie muttered.

—Because I knew you’d say yes if we asked,— Alex replied with a grin, producing a bottle of red from seemingly nowhere.

—Also, you love us,— Charles chimed in, not looking away from the screen, already quoting lines from Cars under his breath with Chequito.

Amelie rolled her eyes, tossing the towel onto the counter. She turned, heart still thudding unreasonably in her chest.

Lando hadn’t moved.

He was still staring at her like he hadn’t quite accepted that the moment was gone. That they were gone—at least for now.

—Uno sounds illegal in this emotional state,— Amelie muttered, crossing to the table with a falsely casual sway to her steps. Her pulse was still rattling under her skin, her brain still spinning in the static of almost.

Lando remained silent behind her. She felt it like a shadow. Like pressure.

She had to keep moving.

—Alright, alright,— George said, pulling out the deck like it was a weapon, —let’s establish rules. No stacking, no mercy, and absolutely no reverse psychology jokes.—

—So just normal Uno but with trauma,— Alex said, already pouring wine into mismatched mugs like a man possessed.

Amelie accepted hers gratefully. She wasn’t sure she even liked this wine. But her hands needed something to hold. Something that wasn’t the weight of Lando’s almost-kiss burning on her mouth.

She perched on the far end of the couch, deliberately close to Charles and Chequito, who was still glued to Cars. The safest corner. The farthest corner. The Landoless corner.

He didn’t fight her for space. But he watched her. She felt it every time she glanced up and met his eyes—those soft browns turned stormy. Frustrated. Confused. Just as unsaid as she was.

And god, he looked good in the quiet of frustration. Like he wanted to fight the air between them. Like he didn’t understand why she’d retreated after he finally said it. After she’d almost let him kiss her.

But what was she supposed to say? Yes, please, kiss me stupid in front of the Cars soundtrack and our friends knocking like the fates themselves have it out for us?

Not likely.

Uno was chaos. Chequito decided he was playing too, shoving random cards into the pile and declaring “RED!” every turn regardless of the actual color. Charles supported this decision with no remorse.

Amelie laughed. It was easier to laugh. To lean against Charles’ shoulder and pretend her skin wasn’t still humming with the echo of Lando’s voice.

I’ve been dying to kiss you again since Hawaii.

She should’ve been smarter than to let those words settle into her spine.

But she wasn’t. She felt them, every syllable stitched into the lining of her chest like thread tugging her closer to something dangerous. Something beautiful. Something she wasn’t ready for.

—Your turn,— George said, flicking a green card toward her like it was a dagger.

Amelie blinked. —Huh?—

—Green. Unless you want to draw four and cry.—

Chequito gasped. —NO CRYING!—

Charles nodded solemnly. —He’s right. No crying. Only vengeance.—

Laughter rippled around the room again, and Amelie played a green nine like she wasn’t drowning in red flags and almosts. Lando was quiet. Playing half-heartedly, throwing cards without looking. His draw pile was growing like a metaphor.

She didn’t dare meet his eyes again. Not when the memory of his breath against her cheek still lingered.

They made it through two games and a glass and a half of wine before Chequito started to snore into Charles’ lap, a stuffed McQueen clenched in one fist and a half-eaten biscuit in the other. Charles looked down at him fondly, already halfway asleep himself.

Amelie stood up, stretching her arms above her head, her muscles aching in the most satisfying way. She moved quietly across the room, her mind too full for words. The hum of conversation and laughter from the guys didn't reach her as she moved toward the bedroom. She glanced over her shoulder, catching Lando’s gaze. His eyes were still stormy, still swirling with that same question he'd thrown her way in the kitchen.

He didn’t say anything, but the unspoken tension was thick between them. She almost wished he would. Almost.

Without another word, she stepped into the bedroom, closing the door behind her and leaving the chaos of the living room behind. The quiet was welcome, even if it only added to the weight in her chest.

Carlota was curled up on the bed, still wrapped in the soft blankets from earlier, her tiny snores the only sound filling the room. Amelie walked over to the bed, settling Chequito beside her sister before pulling the blankets over both of them.

She lingered for a moment, watching Carlota’s peaceful face, the little flickers of light dancing across her features. It was such a stark contrast to the knot of tension twisting in her own stomach.

A soft knock on the door made her jump slightly. She knew exactly who it was.

She took a deep breath, straightened herself, and went to open it.

Lando stood in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, looking like a man ready to go to war. His eyes immediately found hers, that same stormy look still flickering in the depths of them.

She could already feel the weight of the conversation coming. He wasn’t going to let it go.

—Can we talk?— His voice was quiet, but it held an edge, a pull.

Amelie nodded, stepping aside to let him in, but her steps were heavy, like the floor might swallow her whole if she didn’t keep moving.

Lando shut the door behind him, the click of the lock sounding final. He didn’t waste any time.

—Why are you running away from me?— he asked, his voice low, frustrated.

Amelie couldn’t meet his eyes. She wanted to, god, how she wanted to, but she couldn’t. Not with everything spinning out of control.

—I’m not running away,— she said, her voice tight. —I just... I can’t do this, Lando.—

He took a step forward, his gaze unwavering, as if he were trying to pierce right through her. —Can’t do what?— he asked, confusion and hurt bleeding into his tone. —You know what this is, Amelie. I don’t want to play games anymore. I...—

—We’re just friends, Lando,— she blurted out, the words coming out faster than she intended, the finality of them crashing against her chest.

His face faltered for just a moment, as if he were trying to process what she’d just said. The storm in his eyes calmed for a second, replaced by something more vulnerable—something she hadn’t expected to see.

Lando didn’t speak right away, his gaze searching hers, like he was hoping for some kind of confirmation that what she’d just said wasn’t true. His lips parted, then closed again as if he were weighing his words carefully.

For a long moment, Amelie couldn’t breathe. It was like the space between them was filled with a thousand unsaid things, each one louder than the last. She wasn’t sure how to feel, how to reconcile the heavy weight of those words with the ache in her chest. She had said them, but a part of her wasn’t entirely sure she believed them herself.

Lando’s shoulders tensed, his expression shifting from confusion to something else—a quiet resignation, as though he had just made sense of the impossible.

—Right,— he said, his voice barely above a whisper. His words hit her like cold water. —Just friends. You’re sure?—

Amelie nodded, her throat tight. She had to be sure. If she wasn’t, this would unravel everything. She couldn’t let that happen. Not now, not when everything felt so fragile and uncertain.

—Yeah,— she replied, her voice cracking slightly. —We’re just friends, Lando. That’s it. It’s... it’s safer that way.—

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he took a step back, as if her words had physically pushed him away. She didn’t know if that was a relief or a heartbreak.

Amelie watched him carefully, but he didn’t meet her gaze. His jaw clenched, his brow furrowed, and his fists tightened at his sides. For a split second, it seemed like he might say something else, something that would challenge her, force her to explain herself, to clarify the unspoken things hanging between them. But then he just exhaled sharply, turning his back to her, hands still tightly clenched.

—Okay,— he muttered. His voice sounded hollow, drained of the earlier intensity. —If that’s what you want.—

Amelie felt the sting of his words more than she expected. She swallowed, trying to push down the bitterness in her mouth. But there was nothing left to say. She had already said it all.

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mirrorball-leclerc · 1 year ago

Text

karma - part five

series masterlist

charles_leclerc and natalia_leclerc posted new stories

je vous aimerai pour toujours (i'll love you forever)

"bébé, tu es l'amour de ma vie" (baby, you are the love of my life)

siempre te amare (i'll always love you)

tehe, that's my husband 🥰

hey siri, play slut! (taylor's version)

charles_leclerc posted new stories

how did i get so lucky?

😘😍

liked by gracieabrams, sukiwaterhouse, kellypiquet and others

natalia_leclerc no words to describe what it has meant to me to go on this journey with people i love. daisyjonesandthesix has been the greatest, most fulfilling gift. it’s surreal that it has come to an end, but i have made friends for life, and memories that will bring a smile to my face forever. i could’ve never anticipated exactly how much love this show would get and how my life would change. it has just exceeded all of our dreams. i’m so proud of how far we’ve come. congratulations to all of the winners and nominees 💙 thank you televisionacad for this recognition. oh baby, look at us now 🎶

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user1 charles leclerc, you lucky son of a gun

user2 so cunty of her to be wearing red to the emmys. she owns that color.

landonorris DID YOU MEET TAYLOR SWIFT??

natalia_leclerc maybe. maybe not? charles_leclerc she almost cried. natalia_leclerc traitor landonorris and? i would too, she isn't special.

user3 can charles fight??

user4 red bull may be falling apart but charles will still simp over his wife.

sukiwaterhouse oh baby you looked gorgeous 😘

natalia_leclerc it was all you corazon charles_leclerc please stop flirting with my wife. sukiwaterhouse never you french man. charles_leclerc MONÉGASQUE!! I'M MONÉGASQUE!! sukiwaterhouse french adjacent 🤷🏼‍♀️

francesca.cgomes what a beautiful girl 💙

natalia_leclerc aww baby 💙 user5 praying for my man charles. everyone loves his wife.

user6 you're telling me lightning mcqueen pulled her?? how??

alex_albon believe me, we've been asking ourselves that same question since 2018. landonorris it's a miracle really pierregasly she is the sally to his mcqueen natalia_leclerc and pierre is the mater to his mcqueen

kellypiquet you look amazing red is definitely your color 💙

natalia_leclerc thank you kelly!

max verstappen so does anyone know who our new team principal is going to be??

charles leclerc i'm still trying to wrap my head around daniel not driving this season. sebastian vettel i haven't been told anything yet. natalia leclerc as if they're going to tell me. i only know everything because charles tells me everything.

max verstappen i was hoping someone would know something. i think the anticipation will slowly kill me.

charles leclerc good, then i can become champion. sebastian vettel not that he needs you to be dead to beat you.

max verstappen i guess we'll see won't we?

charles leclerc we will, won't we? natalia leclerc men 🙄

sebastian vettel i think if we don't know anything it's because they haven't found a replacement.

max verstappen then that's stupid, why are they going to announce it when they haven't found someone to replace him?

natalia leclerc because even now we can't get away from spanish papers. someone leaked this shit.

sebastian vettel i have a crazy idea.

charles leclerc how crazy are we talking here?

sebastian vettel i'll be back in like 40 minutes.

max verstappen way to leave us hanging seb

40 minutes later

sebastian vettel i don't know how successful i was but i think they'll think about it.

natalia leclerc seb, what did you do?

sebastian vettel hopefully something worthy of younger seb's chaos.

max verstappen we're fucked

charles leclerc don't be mean. as long as it's not another multi-21 we'll be fine.

sebastian vettel oh my god. let it go. charles leclerc as long as people still hold the inchident against me. i will hold multi-21 against you.

natalia leclerc i don't know why anyone thinks you three are serious people. you're all children.

max verstappen says the woman who's been thiristing over her husband on social media.

"how long did it take you to convince him?" natalia asked. sebastian huffed, "i almost got down on my knees to beg."

"it would not have come to that," kimi replied.

sebastian rolled his eyes, "he was enjoying it. i had to ask his wife to help me convince him. they gave me a deadline to get him on board."

"was there any other option?" max questioned.

"jenson," seb answered at the same time kimi said, "mark."

charles laughed, "oh, would it not have been great to see seb and mark on the same team again?"

"they would've killed each other," max realized.

"no, we wouldn't," sebastian argued. natalia gave him a shit-eating grin, "you still have to see him at the paddock, like every week. he's oscar's manager."

"the mini-me?" kimi quizzed, looking up from his ice cream, because nothing would stop him from enjoying ice cream. everyone at the table looked at him confused, kimi shrugged, "i read what people say. sometimes."

the conversation was stopped by kelly's arrival, "sorry, i'm late. daniil was running late and- nevermind. did you order yet?"

max shook his head, "just kimi, said he needed his ice cream."

"it's very good," kimi replied, "but i don't share."

sebastian huffed again, "i made a huge mistake."

"too late."

taglist: @janeholt3 @vroomvroommuppett @charlesgirl16 @someoneintheworld @iconicbookstore @evans-dejong @minmira95 @leanneg97 @asparklysoul @d3kstar @lollie0024 @magical-spit @gemnetjournal @rockyhayzkid @weekendlusting @ironspdy @namgification @moonyzsworld @Fall-bambi @emilyval1 @lorenakaspersen @spilled-coffee-cup @butterfly-lover @blushmimi @mgmoore @lovely-blackinnon @six-call @bingewatche @vroomvroom95 @lesliiieeeee @itscrzy @alymeddar @fletchingarcher @casperlikej @minmira95

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¡leclerc-s speaks! hope i didn't let anyone down with the kimi reveal, which due to popular demand, i just had to go with him. trust when i say i would've gone with seb if i didn't already have plans for him. listen, i love ollie, he is a baby, and i just had to include him somehow. so i took creative liberties. realistically this couldn't happen but oh well, poaching him and arthur was definitely seb's idea. also, please don't hate me for the daniel thing but liam lawson deserves an f1 seat and he's getting one in this story. at least i didn't get rid of him completely.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #karma series #f1 instagram au #f1 x oc #f1 oc #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 #formula one #f1 fic #formula 1 fic #f1 x female oc #charles leclerc x female oc

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heartstringsbloom · 7 months ago

Text

“What’s the last thing your mother said to you?”

The microphone is shoved under his face and McQueen starts. That’s. . .not the question he had been expecting.

“I’m—sorry, what does—?“

“Do you regret not visiting more often?”

“Hold on—“

“Monty.” Mom is there now, hanging behind the reporter like a shadow. His own eyes stare back at him so lovingly he might be sick. “I want you to follow your dream.”

“Mom. . .”

He feels her hand on his face. She’s closer suddenly. Her voice echoes around him, drowning out the reporters, the cheering fans. His panicked breathing.

“It’s gonna be okay. Your sister and I are gonna be keeping an eye on you.”

Lightn—Monty forces himself to swallow. The cameras are blinding. He shuts his eyes against the flashing but he still sees her. “How can you? I’m so far away. Mom, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—“

“Mr. McQueen! How selfish can you be to leave your family behind for the track? MR. MCQUEEN!“

“STOP!” He crashes to the ground, doesn’t feel the impact. He- he might throw up. “I don’t know! Stop asking me!”

He sobs, hard. His eyes are squeezed shut yet somehow he still sees her beside him. He can’t escape her—his—her eyes, or her voice. A soothing haunt to his ears.

“Baby, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

“No I’m not.” Monty hugs his knees to his chest. Everything keeps fading in and out but her presence is steady. Too real. Not real enough.

“Mom,” he sobs.

“I’m so proud of you,” she soothes in his hair. Her hugs are just as warm as he thinks he remembers. But he still can’t feel her.

“You—you shouldn’t be.”

“You oughtta call your sister, sundrop.”

“I can’t, mom.” Monty sniffles. He feels smaller than ever. Nothing exists beyond her feather-light embrace. “She probably hates me.”

He closes his eyes and, finally, everything fades with that. Mom rocks them both, humming something about needing to run to the store for glue to finish Maisie’s costume for the play.

“Into The Woods?” They had both performed in that one. They had performed in a lot of plays together. The last one was when they were 15.

“You know your songs, baby?”

He snuggles in just like he used to. “Yeah, mama.”

She kisses his temple. Monty’s too tired to open his eyes, as if they’re glued shut. Mama squeezes him tight, still rocking back and forth. The last time he let her hold him like that was when he was 12.

“Love you, sunshine,” she whispers. He wants to say ‘don’t go,’ but his body is heavy.

His eyes open to window of Doc’s guest room.

It’s a bit cold, and he can see the sky is barely awake. He pulls the blankets tighter around himself. It’s half a comfort.

The room is a low grey. It’s early-early. Doc’s gonna get him up for training in a couple of hours. Mont—Lightning can barely stomach the idea, but he pushes out of bed anyway. He can at least get a shower and food.

The dream sits untouched in the back of his mind. He can’t help but to. . .well, he doesn’t recall much of it at all, but he can’t shake it. He doesn’t really want to.

His hands feel loose as he reaches for the shower curtain. It rests there, unmoving, unwilling. He just doesn’t have it in him. Lightning pulls away and slides to the floor, lashes sticky on his cheeks.

People always told him he had his mother’s face. For some reason they never said it to Maisie, though it could have been for her brown eyes. It hurt to look at her sometimes, as if he were missing out on something he never knew, but at the same time they were incredible. A treasure only she held. Maisie never liked her eyes. Monty appreciated them, though he’d never admitted it (he should have told her).

Same lips. Same jaw. Same piercing eyes, different colors. Maisie got mistaken for him, and he got mistaken for mom, even though Maisie had mom’s honey-to-gold blonde hair. Monty’s was strawberry blonde, almost rosy (rosy like his and Maisie’s cheeks).

He jolts awake when someone knocks at the bathroom door.

“Lightning?” Doc calls. “You about ready?”

Light. . .ning blinks himself awake (“pay attention, McQueen.” His sister would say during rehearsals, snapping her fingers in his face. They shared the same last name). He pushes up from the floor, eyes thick with sleep he doesn’t know if he wants. His legs are weak. He slips down with a sigh.

“Monty?”

(“Monty,” mom says softly when he won’t get out of bed. “You’ll be late for school.”)

The door creaks open. He feels Doc press a hand to his forehead.

“What’s goin’ on, kid?” Doc sounds worried, actually.

“Jus’ tired,” Lightning slurs. His lips barely move. “Tried to get a shower, couldn’t keep myself up.”

Doc’s beside him now. He brushes some hair from Lightning’s eyes. “You feelin’ sick?”

“Nah.” Maybe?

It’s quiet for a moment. He can hear Doc thinking.

“I think we can skip practice today. Go back to bed.” Doc stands, helps Lightning up. “I’ll bring you some food in a bit. Should have some water, too.”

Yeah. His lips do feel dry.

(“You need some lip balm,” his sister tells him through the mirror one night as she does her makeup. He’s still trying to get the stupid wig to look right. “And water.”)

Shut up, Maisie.

“Hey, you don’t have to like it,” Doc hums, as if Light spoke aloud. Maybe he did. “It’s what’s best for now.”

“You always say that,” Lightning whines, feeling in quite the mood to just be difficult.

(“You always say that,” he mutters to their reflection. She clicks her tongue and decides to not with the usual ‘I’m always right.’)

Doc eases him into the once messy bed now tucked neatly because Doc sometimes goes behind his back like that, and folds the sheets around his waist. The comforter has been folded on the desk chair.

“Try to sleep, rookie.”

“Sleep is so off season, Doc.” Lightning scoffs and burrows into his pillow. “Let me behind the wheel and I’ll. . .”

Tires spinning. Dirt flying. Turn right to go—

(“One day,” Monty asserts, laying on his sister’s shoulder. The tv screen glows black and white in the darkness of their little living room. “Someday soon, that’ll be me.”

He feels feels her hum more than he hears her. “Your hair’s in my nose.”

“What was that? I couldn’t hear with your hair in my ear.”

“Chomp.”

“Chomp?”

“. . .”

“Did you bite—“)

“—my hair?” Monty mumbles in his pillow.

He hears a chuckle.

Gets everywhere, someone says.

He doesn’t know who. The door shuts quietly.

Lightning wakes up to a note on the bedside in Doc’s handwriting, saying he’ll be at the clinic til 5 or so. Then he checks his phone and there’s a text with the same message, because Doc figured he’d better appreciate that.

He sits up and stretches, letting out a lion’s yawn that tastes like a fresh start and all the sleep he could have asked for. His stomach draws wide circles in him and he glances about for that food Doc had promised.

Doc wouldn’t just leave food out for however long to go bad.

He finds some soup and a cup of strawberries in the fridge. Soup is never his first choice but the strawberries help it go down. He surprisingly doesn’t mind it as much as he usually does, especially when it’s hot and warms him right up. He’s all the more grateful that Doc didn’t leave it out to go bad (as opposed to Lightning, who hasn’t just once forgotten to put leftovers away before bed).

“He’s so cool,” Lightning sighs. The doorbell rings.

As he opens it, he’s met with the most beautiful sight.

“Howdy, doll.” Sally dips her sunglasses and smirks. “You got a date to the prom?”

He sips from his bowl and leans on the doorframe, fighting to hear himself over the speed of his heart. “She just showed up.”

Sally leans up to kiss him before he leaps back, hand over his mouth.

“Stickers?”

“I’m sick, Sal!”

Sally, angel she is, laughs and draws his hand down. She pecks him softly, like, wow. “S’not gonna stop me.”

“Hm?” He’s still reeling from how lovely it always is.

“Nothing, babe.” She walks through the living room and he bounds after, so happy to be together. “How’re you feeling?”

“Good.” He sits back down at the table and opens his arms, wraps the blanket he’s been wearing around them both. “Sleepy. Is that weird? I just woke up.”

“My poor, sick baby.” Sally’s kiss tastes like strawberries. Oh, the thief. “The soup should help.”

“Yeah, but I don’t like soup,” Light mumbles against her crown. “How’ve you been?”

She swirls one of the berries in the bowl, giving a noncommittal shrug. “Well it’s slow today, but most people aren’t rushing through our cute little town this time of year. Don’t get me wrong, I love the activity.” She sighs, takes a bite and Lightning plucks a piece of chicken from the bowl. “It’s just nice having it to ourselves every now and then, not having to deal with all the buzz Mr. Golden racer boy brings everywhere he goes.”

He snorts. “I wouldn’t say I’m that popular.”

“Sure. Sky’s not blue.”

“Maybe not to you.” And he means it, watching her nibble the soup-coated berry and gaze sleepily towards the window above the sink. Bluer than blue, everything she is. Beautiful and true.

“You wanna come by the Cone? I could keep you company.”

“Nah.” He moves the bowl towards her, stealing back his cup of fruit. “It was enough walking to the front door and back.”

“Don’t be a stranger, shortcake.” She moves off of his lap and he misses her already. “I’m calling every couple hours, hear me? If you don’t answer, I’ll peek through your window until you either shoo me off or I get tired of looking at you.”

He rolls his eyes. “In other words, I’d have to actually tell you to leave.” Impossible. He’d never want her to leave.

Her smirk is back. “I know how hard that is for you, so I’ll make the agonizing—“ Sally clutches her heart, lifts her knuckles to her brow “—sacrifice of leaving on my own. See what you’re doing to me, stickers? Do you see how much I go through for you?”

“Always.” He kisses the back of her hand, drops his forehead to it. “I love you.”

He feels her brush a curl behind his ear and knows that she’s the best he could have ever asked for. “I love you too, Lightning.”

They part soon after, with Sally reiterating her promise to check in regularly and Lightning promising to let her.

As he wraps himself in bed, belly comfortably full and face more relaxed, he wonders if he’s forgotten something. His eyes will fall closed and he’ll think he sees someone, he almost knows he does, but they’re gone as soon as he’s conscious of them. There’s a voice he hasn’t heard in years but could never forget. Someone’s hand in his, whispering reassurances behind a curtain. The murmur of an audience. Gone again, back to nothingness behind his eyes. And as it goes, each time.

He falls asleep on a stage, sharing a dream he’s left behind.

It’s loud this time of night, voices bleeding over each other as silverware and plates meet. The tv over the bar is low, far from the main diner and even farther from those just outside, but she catches things here and there all the same. She’s learned how to use her ears.

Racing season must be at its peak. The interviewer on air won’t stop babbling about that three-way tie. Maisie still can’t wrap her head around such a blunder. Least of all can she believe how reckless he was.

Monty never used to be so careless.

When the press shove their way to him (“McQueen! McQueen!”) he’s leaning on his car, smirk loose and proud, arms crossed as if he’s everything and more, the brat (he’s enough, always has been, but she never told him and that hits her harder and harder every night). He prides himself on this one-man show attitude. Maisie tries to get lost in anything else: her cider is bubbly and sweet, he’d like it, Monty’s so different now; the night is cool and deep and unlike the flashes on screen that capture his every move and perfect teeth (as if he ever knew when to stop eating candy. Did he break the habit?).

Ugh, this is her least favorite part of the night, having to sit and wonder. He’s not even thinking about her. Not with his flashy new lifestyle and adoring fans. She polishes off her cider, listening to someone on tv yell that they quit, but refusing to watch. She recalls the news articles detailing each crew Monty’s fired. Maisie leaves her glass at the bar, tips the bartender who smiles her way, asks if she’ll get along fine on her own. She hums noncommittally, adds a few more bills to his tip because he has been a real gentleman all night. She leaves before he can ask again.

In her car she melts against the steering wheel, exhaustion hitting her at once. She doesn’t have to be on set til 9-ish, so she can sleep until 7 or so and make the next town over on time. And right now it’s. . .

Well, if she’s back at the motel and in bed within the next forty-or-so minutes she’ll catch a few hours of sleep after accounting for the bug-watch she’ll be doing. As it goes.

(Why hadn’t he called?)

Why hasn’t she?

She pushes away the accusation, scoffs at it. She’s been busy, obviously. Busy getting background roles and sleeping with the lights on to avoid bugs, or keep them away, but either way she doesn’t sleep. Busy having to settle with a stale bagel each morning because of her allergies and the hotel staff never knowing what’s been used in their meals. Monty probably gets his food special-made. Maisie hopes he remembers to be mindful anyway. He seems fine so far, at least.

Fine enough without her. No reason to call.

Her thumb hovers over his contact in her phone, as it does at least twice a day. He’s on live tv. She could call and embarrass him, probably, if he bothers to pick up. In front of the camera? He’d be ridiculous to. It’s not out of his league, but he wouldn’t have his phone on him. Not just after a race. She couldn’t bring herself to do it anyway, to even taint his success, though it crawls under her skin to just. . .and maybe she’s different now, too.

Her hand shakes and her throat dries. She tosses the phone to the passenger side, breathes through the weight behind her eyes. She’s just tired. And very tempted to go back for a few more ciders, fooling herself into thinking she could afford it. But she’s a big girl. She can pull through without the sugary support.

Maisie drives through McDonald’s for a small coffee—it won’t do much for her, but it’ll make the night a little easier—and heads back to the motel.

It’s a quiet drive. She keeps the radio off, really in no mood for it, though she hasn’t been able to get that one song out of her head for a while.

“Life could be a dream. . .”

The city is its best at night. The lights always fill Maisie with nostalgia for those long, sleepy rides along the freeway, nodding off on her brother’s shoulder as mama drove home. She can’t feel the lights like she would her family, but they’re almost an embrace. They’re close enough.

In the back of her mind she sees those lights on the red carpet. Cameras flashing (“McQueen, McQueen!”) catching her every angle, every one her best. Capturing him, too, as they walk side by side in this dream they’d have built.

There they would be: on a stage doing their latest Broadway hit. Her makeup perfect and his wig finally right. Monty and Maisie, twin sensations.

She’s back at the hotel before she knows it. Her coffee is cold when she picks it up, and she’s no way to heat it. Maisie sighs and brings it in anyway.

She sets it on the small table under the mounted tv that doesn’t get any channels. She showers quickly, well past ready for bed. The stage comes and goes, but her thoughts keep Monty the rest of the night. Her thumb hovers over the contact.

Maisie falls asleep, phone in hand, missing a far-off dream and a far-away sibling.

#pixar cars #the au slowly comes together #Cars movie #cars au #humanized cars #lightning mcqueen #sally carrera #doc hudson #original character #cars oc #writing #my writing #cars fanfiction #siblings au #slight angst

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faededaway · 9 months ago

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[𝕊𝕒𝕟𝕠 𝕄𝕒𝕟𝕛𝕚𝕣𝕠 𝕩 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣]

[warning: exhibitionism, pvp, fem reader, bike race mention, cumshot] [inspiration]

Manijo, Manjiro

After everything in his life, he wishes he could say he's calmed down a bit. But, he picked the life of midnight races and adrenaline, and you.

You, the other adrenaline rush in his life. The one who keeps him high at all times. You, who like him for what he's got. His dirty mouth and worse mannerism doesn't bother you one bit. If anything, it keeps pulling you to him.

He saw you at one of street races he'd gone to watch. He'd gone just to get a scope of the competition of an upcoming race. But you caught his eye with your jeans shorts and flag wrapped around your chest.

"She's the flag girl, dude. She'll take it off to wave it! You can see her tits when the race starts!" He was surprised to hear more whispers about you than any about the racers. But that meant no one here was worth watching than you were.

Maybe I'll give you something worth watching.

He'd strolled over to you with hands in his pockets, "is it true?"

You'd barely spared him a glance before he continued, "that everyone here sucks so bad, the showrunners stole your clothes?"

You'd glared at him but kept your eyes on the racers who were taking their positions.

"How much are they paying you? I could pay you double and give you some clothes," he leaned on pole you were standing next to, wearing his signature grin.

"Why don't you fuck off instead? Shut up and watch like the other bozos who've never touched a bike but talk like they're Steve McQueen or something."

He laughed off your remark and proposed, "wanna ride with me? Be the flag girl that wins the race?"

You finally looked at him to tell him off again, but the confidence in his eyes stopped you. Your eyes wandered over to the memorabilia on his jacket, you recognized him then. He's the guys everyone's been talking about. The one who wins every race.

"What's someone like you doing here?"

"What's someone like you doing here?" He parroted the question back to you.

You glared at him and looked away. The digital timer on the side was counting down to the start of the race. 30 seconds to start.

“Okay,” he laughed, “'m here to see how much I'll need to hold back to save these guys from embarrassing themselves in their next race.”

You sighed at that. It was embarrassing working here. It doesn't help that he was right on the money about the show runner situation too.

He laughed again, pissing you off further. 20 seconds to start.

“If you agree to ride with me, I'll enter the race. That's bound to make you some money, right?” 10 seconds to start.

That's not how this works but it would help your brother the show runner make some much needed cash. 5 seconds.

“You better win.” Go.

He'd won, of course. He's not sure if there was a prize involved in this race. To him, you were the prize. You'd laughed and cheered the whole way of the race. Your arms were wrapped tightly around his waist. Your flimsy top(that you did not wave as a flag) let him feel the warmth of your body over his leather. You'd even asked him to speed up at times. You loved speed just like he did. He loved hearing your giggles in his ear with the song of the wind. He knew this could not be a one time thing.

"Don't stop, I know a spot nearby," you whispered in his ear when he crossed the finished line. He followed as if it was a command.

The spot you spoke of was a rundown gas station with a back alley that seemed to be a popular place for a different kind of ride. "This was so we don't do the whole 'my place or yours' or the 'who pays?' thing."

"I wouldn't mind taking you on the streets, an alleyway seems fancy." His hands ran down your body as you giggled in reply.

He pulled off your clothes in one pull, "if this is what they saw before the race began, they'd be crashing into things." His lips sucked on your chest ravenously. Red and purple lined his touch on your skin.

His leather jacket hung on your shoulders, your back pressed to the wall of the alleyway that anyone could walk into. Even if no one walked over, they'd hear your mewls and whines for sure. Mikey didn't seem to care and neither did you.

His hands didn't leave your body even for a second. One hand played with you chest, while the other did the same to your pussy. His fingers would ghost over your stiff buds right after he'd pinched and pulled at them. His mouth followed the same 'soft one moment, hard the other' pace - pecking you one moment, sucking your skin the other.

Your legs wrapped around his waist. You felt his hardness on your stomach. You would have touched him if his touch relented, but his pace only let you cling onto him harder. A hand deep in his hair, the other clutching his shirt. He hadn't even put it in yet and you'd already scratched his back.

"Mikey, c'mon!"

He only stopped when you begged him for it. Laughter bubbled in his chest and you felt it in yours too. He's unlike any man you had previously. Any other man would've stuffed your face already but he touched you to please you.

"Put it in, baby." His hands moved to your waist, finally giving you a moment to do what you'd been wanting to do since getting on his bike.

You palmed him over his leather to get a feel for him before revealing the real package. Hot. Hard as fuck. Pulsating and hot.

He rolled his hips into your palm, rubbing himself into the warmth of your hands. "Ah, fuck!"

Mikey's whining wasn't any quieter than yours. You let in sooner than him. A moment's grace before you undo his buttons and look down at him.

Sticky wetness dripped from his pretty pink tip. You thumbed some of it and brought it to your lips. "Someone's keeping you well fed. Wouldn't mind throat-"

A deep thrust interrupted your dirty words. "Want your pussy today, baby."

Your hands returned to his neck, holding on for dear life. His thrusts choked the breathe out of your lungs. Each one as deep as the first one, but like his ride, he didn't do slow.

He'd avoided fingering you earlier, teasing your clit relentlessly. Your aching pussy throbbed with him in it. It loved the filling it was receiving. Slick dripped down your lips and made a mess on his blacks.

"Fuck, Mikey, Mikey, Mikey, slow down!" you weren't sure if you'd be able to keep up anymore before losing it.

"Are we nearing a curve, baby? Are we losing it? Hm? Are we gonna cum?" he slowed down like you asked but just a moment later, "let it lose, baby. Cum with me."

He groaned as he thrust in you for the last time, his dick throbbed in you before filling you with his warm sticky cum. Your body attuned to his play, came as asked.

A cacophony of your moans and whines filled the alleyway as the two of you came off of your high.

"Whew, someone call the janitor. Clean up in the cum-alley."

Your noise attracted some people, but with your back to the wall and Mikey before you, they couldn't see you.

"You look like you'd like to clean it up yourself." Mikey wrapped his jacket on your chest before taking out your shorts from his pocket.

"Nah, we're good. Hearing y'all was good enough for me. Just wanted to come over and see the goods f'myself, that's all."

Lucky for you, they'd walked away as you got dressed. But being caught with Mikey in your pussy felt -

"Felt you throb around me when they caught us, baby. Maybe next time, I really will take you on the streets." He'd tucked himself back in and was wiping your slick off his crotch with your flag top. His eyes bore into yours, a sly grin on his lips.

You'd laughed as you walked out of the alley and to his bike. "I felt you, too."

And that is how Mikey became your ride for life.

#sano manjiro x reader #sano manjiro smut #tokyo rev smut #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo rev mikey #BASED ON THE MANGA ENDING [ADULT MANJIRO]#October Fic #<- tag for me #my writing #Kinktober #exhibition kink #inspired by Chris Grey's Ride which i linked above

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riptidewaters · 2 years ago

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Lipstick

Nate Archibald x Fem! Reader! (NAMED)

“UGH! Get me the new Alexander Mcqueen Bag Dorota!” Blair Screeched at her loyal servant, the latter muttering a meek ‘Yes, Miss Blair’ and hurrying away. Blair Waldorf, the “mean girl” of Constance and self-proclaimed Queen of the Upper East Side was, according to her throwing the “hottest party” in the whole year. ‘Hey B!’ Serena Van der Woodsen, the “it girl” of New York waved to her best friend, running forward and hugging her tightly, ‘I am so happy that you came back from Europe!’ she declared. Blair scoffed while striking names off the invite list, ‘Well, after Chuck ditched me at the airport I decided to take a girl's trip and travel around Europe anyway!’, She put the list down and walked over to the massive tables full of entreès and delicately put one in her mouth, Serena following her, Blair continued, ‘Anyways, enough about my broken love life, what's the gossip I’ve been hearing on you and Nate?”. Serena looked panicked, “There’s absolutely nothing going on between us! I haven’t dated anyone the entire summer!’ She said proudly, Blair paused and looked at Serena, ‘Wait- S, are you telling me you’ve gotten zero action for the ENTIRE Summer?!’. Serena shrugged, ‘Maybe, well there was that one hot lifeguard-’, Blair looked excited, ‘And....?’, ‘I rejected him’. Blair’s face fell, ‘Seriously S?, I’m gone for one summer and-’. Serena shook her head, ‘Wait! Before you launch into one of your speeches, I've got a surprise for you!’, She sang happily, Blair raised her eyebrows, ‘And what might that be May I ask?’. Serena grinningly thrust a letter into her hand, ‘Read it!’ She said. Blair rolled her eyes,

Dear Serena,

I wasn’t sure if you would remember me, but it’s Charlotte, from junior year. I hope you do! Anyways I’m coming back to Constance this year! I could not be more excited to meet you all again! Maybe we could meet up a few days before school starts? Let me where you are. Well Adios for now! Do tell Blair, Nate and Chuck I said hi!(especially Nate)

Love,

Charlotte.

Blair’s eyes widened, ‘Charlotte, the Charlotte is coming back?’ She questioned excitedly, Serena nodded grinning brightly. ‘I already sent her the invite to your party, if that's cool with you? She said that she’ll come.’ Blair smiled, ‘Definitely!’ ‘Wait! Should we tell Nate?’. She asked Serena looking at the letter, ‘Maybe it should be a surprise.’ Blair nodded, starting a conversation about party favours.

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‘I’ve been waiting for this all day.’ Nate muttered, biting her lip, ‘You sure Serena’s okay with covering for you? She was a little cold.’ Catherine said rubbing herself against Nate, ‘Oh she’s totally fine.’ he said closing his eyes and leaning in, ‘But you haven’t told her anything?’ Cathrine questioned pulling Nate for a chaste kiss, He shook his head, ‘All she knows is I’m seeing someone new...I’m not ready to introduce to anyone yet.’ She pulled away, pushing Nate behind and looking at him with a stern look in her eyes, ‘Or ever.’ He finished. ‘Look, she needed time to decompress from her breakup anyway,’ Nate kissed her, ‘Covering for me works for her too.’ A car whizzed by the one they were in, Catherine looked alarmed, ‘Let’s go back to my place before anyone spots us.’ Nate raised his eyebrows, ‘Your House?’ She grinned, nodding, ‘I thought we couldn’t.’ She smiled at him, ‘There’s always the guest house’. Nate chuckled pulling her in for another kiss.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

‘Okay, how do I look?!’ Blair asked twirling around for Serena to see, She smiled ‘Gorgeous as always B.’ She remarked Blair turned around adjusting her iconic bejewelled headband, ‘How do you think She looks now?’ She asked Serena, ‘I don’t think she might have changed too much,’ Serena shrugged. ‘Probably’ Blair agreed. Looking in the mirror, ‘Excuse me?’ She asked a random saleswoman, ‘Can I get this in white?’, The woman nodded and walked towards the display to get it off the mannequin. ‘This dress is perfect for my party!’ She squealed excitedly clapping her hands. Serena smiled, ‘Now that you’re done can we go look for my dress?’, Blair grinned ‘I’m sure I can take out a few minutes of my valuable time to go look for your dress.’ She said, Serena laughed and grabbed Blair by her shoulders, ‘We are getting out now!’. With that the two girls walked out laughing.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The day of the white party was a complete disaster..... at least it was according to a certain Charles Bass, famously known as Chuck Bass. Blair had asked him if he loved her the day he had met James, Blair’s seemingly “perfect” boyfriend and he had stupidly kept his big mouth shut and made her cry. Showing up to the White party had been a pain in his arse, especially when he saw Blair making out with her new boyfriend who had supposedly gone to “Georgetown”. And then something worth the attention of Chuck Bass happened, He saw Charlotte Jackson, also known as the one who disappeared after Junior year, staring at Serena Van der Woodsen having a spit-swapping session with Nate Archibald. Chuck grabbed a glass of white wine off a tray smirking, ‘Well, that’s going to be fun...’ with that he sauntered off towards an awestruck Charlotte.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Part 2 is now out!

#nate archibald imagines #nate archibald x reader #gossip girl #upper east side #hamptons #blair waldorf #chuck bass #serena van der woodsen

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rebelwrites · 1 year ago

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Seventeen: Baby You Ain’t As Anonymous As you Think.

Charles Leclerc x Nova Teller (OC)

Till the wheels fall off masterlist

Small town meets the fast lane. What happens when two souls meet? Will it end in happiness or will they both crash and burn?

As always reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated ❤️ if you want tagging in future parts let me know ❤️

Standing amongst the crowd I watched Jax and Tig take the makeshift stage that had been built down by the lake. I was still unsure why we needed a stage this big but Jax and Pops were adamant they wanted it, they sure as hell loved theatrics. Tearing my gaze away from Jax I turned to look at Charles, who now had Elenor sitting on his shoulders, she had a proud smirk on her face like she had just walked into a candy store and the store owner told her everything was free.

“Tu vas bien, ma chérie ? Are you all right, darling?” Charles beamed, flashing me a smile.

“I will be,” I hummed, reaching up gently squeezing his arm. After the photos were released on instagram this morning I felt myself holding back from public displays of affection and it was killing me.

“Auntie Nova, can we have a movie night tonight?” Elenor grinned, fluttering her long eyelashes at me, “and can Uncle Charles and Uncle Pierre come as well?”

“I don’t see why not baby,” I beamed back at her before turning to Charles, “you down for movie night with my crazy ass family? There is a high possibility we will be making our way through all of the Cars movies,” I giggled, knowing that Elenor would beg and plead to put all three films on.

“Sunshine, didn’t you know Cars is one of my favorite movies,” he smirked with a wink.

“Alright then, Lightning McQueen.”

“Kachow.”

“Oh my god!” I exclaimed, covering my face with my hands, trying to hide the snort that escaped my lips, “you did not just Kachow me. God, you are a giant dork!”

Before Charles could respond Jax’s voice echoed around the lake, as if the boy needed a microphone he was loud enough as it was, “I just want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart for everyone turning up today. Before we kick off the annual scavenger hunt I have just been made aware of a few donations that have come in anonymously.”

I found myself cocking my brow at my brother who just smirked at me, throwing me a wink as he pulled a piece of paper out of his back pocket, “I honestly could cry at these donations. Two people have donated 26 thousand dollars between them, with 10 thousand dollars going towards the dementia charity and 16 thousand dollars being given,'' the words were getting caught in his throat, as he covered his eyes with his hand trying to stop the tears, “to the Teller family to help with any future care that JT needs.”

There was nothing stopping the tears from spilling over my lashline, I didn’t even try to stop them. That's when it hit me, everything made perfect sense. Two donations which both happened to be the same numbers as the two dorks standing either side of me drove under. Without saying a word I turned to Pierre pulling him into a tight hug, before turning to Charles reaching my hand up resting it on his cheek with a watery smile on my face.

“Baby, you ain’t as anonymous as you think,” I whispered, feeling him copy my movements but instead of letting his hand sit still against my skin he slowly used his thumb to wipe away my tears.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Sunshine.”

The rest of the day went by in one big blur, the scavenger hunt was a success, even if it was the first year where I didn’t win but I didn’t care. My focus was on Charles, I wanted to enjoy the little time we had left together so the afternoon was spent wandering around town, showing Charles the places that held fond memories for me. All whilst keeping an eye out for people that might be trying to leak pictures of the two of us, luckily for us everyone was more focused on the events of the day then me and Charles.

“I just need to finish up here then we can head back to mine,” I hummed, leaning up on my tiptoes pressing my lips against his cheek.

“Take your time Sunshine,” he smiled, picking Elenor up, sitting her on the top of the bar.

I couldn’t help but smile as I walked away from the two of them, slipping into the back I needed to find Jax. I knew where he would be, taking a deep breath I wrapped my fingers around the door handle before slowly pushing it open. I needed to clear the air between us. I hated the fact we had hardly spoken all day.

“Hey,” I said quietly, leaning against the wooden frame.

“Hey, yourself,” he said looking up from the paper that was in his hands, “about earlier,”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said softly, fiddling with the sleeves of Charles hoodie, “my head has been all over the place recently with you know,” I paused, dropping my gaze to my hands, “everything with Pops and the social media post, then you tell me we fucked up with Juice, I just kinda exploded.”

“We do need to talk about it though,” Jax sighed, dropping the paper onto the desk.

“I know,” I whispered, finally looking back up at my brother, “I need to get my head straight first, okay.”

“Okay,” Jax nodded, pushing himself up to his feet, taking a few strides across the small room before he pulled me into a tight hug, “I still love you, don’t worry about that Squirt.”

Resting my cheek against the cool leather, I took another deep breath, “enough mushy shit, Elenor wants a movie night so lock the office up and let's get outta here.”

Jax didn’t take much convincing, I knew that movie nights were his favorite, taking a step back, I started walking back into the main room. The moment I stepped out behind the bar I felt my blood starting to boil at the sight that was in front of me. My fingers twitched as I formed a fist, I was ready to punch a bitch.

She was pushing her fake ass tits up against Charles and fluttering her false eyelashes.

“If you wanna live, I would suggest you walk away whilst you have the chance,” I said through gritted teeth, pausing so I could unclench my fist covering Elenor’s ears, “you fucking skanky ass bitch.”

The smirk that Ima flashed made me want to grab the knife from behind me, the one that we used to cut up the lemon and limes, “well, let's be real, you aren’t the kind of person that Charlie goes for,” she laughed, turning back to Charles, running her fingers across his cheek. I didn’t miss the slight flinch that happened when she made contact with him.

“If you wanna be real, then I can get real,” I growled, placing my palm on the bar, shifting my weight onto my hand. I launched myself over the counter, “I might just start a bonfire out back, throwing your scrawny ass on it, watching you melt in the flames,” before she had a chance to respond, my fingers were tangled in her hair extensions, yanking her head back with so much force I was surprised I didn’t snap her neck.

“Get off me you golddigger,” she screamed, trying to claw at my hands.

“Do you even know who he is?” I asked, cocking my brow.

“Some football player,” she said with so much confidence I couldn’t help but scoff.

“Yeah, such a skilled football player,” I said with a playful tone, locking eyes with Charles, watching as he laughed slightly with a small shrug of his shoulders.

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Jax, leaning against the back worktop with a smug smirk on his face, “need any help Squirt?” he asked, shoving his hands in the front pocket of his jeans.

“Nah, I’ve got this,” I nodded, tugging harder on Ima’s hair causing her to scream, “the trash just needs taking out, that's all,” I growled, storming out of the bar, dragging Ima behind me.

Ignoring the sound of her cries I didn’t stop until I was standing outside of the building. I didn’t care if I was being over dramatic, this bitch needed to keep her hands off things that didn’t belong to her, like my man.

Shit, I was calling him my man now.

Fuck, I was acting like a jealous girlfriend!

I didn’t even know if I could call myself Charles’ girlfriend, just the thought made my heart skip a beat but I knew that come the end of the summer break he would be back doing what he did best. Racing around tracks at 200 miles an hour, living that playboy life, more than likely forgetting I existed.

Pushing the thoughts down I let my fist collide with Ima’s nose feeling the familiar crunching feeling under my knuckles, “you better stay away from him if you don’t want your whole face reconstructed.”

Loosening my grip on her cheap ass extensions I spun around on the balls of my feet, strolling back into the bar with a proud smirk on my face. The moment I got close enough to Charles, he wrapped his arms around my waist pulling me in between his thighs.

“You getting protective over me now, Sunshine?” he hummed, slipping his hand underneath the hoodie letting his fingers brush against the skin of my lower back, causing sparks to erupt across my skin.

Pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, I shook my head slightly, “nah, I just don’t want you catching an STD or something,” I said calmly.

The smirk on Charles face was enough to cause my knees to wobble, if it wasn’t for his strong arms wrapped around me I was pretty sure they would have given out on me.

“You sure about that, Babygirl,” he purred, leaning closer so his nose brushed against mine.

The two of us were locked in the moment, it was like there was no one else in the room with us, like we were protected by a bubble, until Jax rang the last order bell, causing me to jump at the unexpected sound, “I do not need to see whatever this,” he scoffed, waving his hands in the air, “is gonna lead to.”

“Oh Jackson, leave your sister alone,” Pops scolded, causing me to pull away from Charles slightly, instantly being greeted by a warm smile from Pops, “she’s young and in love, leave her be.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I exclaimed, narrowing my eyes at my father, “who said anything about love?”

“Oh sunshine,” Charles beamed, reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, “you are so in love with me, it’s written all over your beautiful face.”

Instantly I could feel the heat in the room rising, the hairs on the back of my neck standing to attention as Charles slowly moved his fingers across my cheek and I was pretty sure my ears were the same shade of red as his hoodie I was wearing.

“I can uninvite you from family movie night, ya know,” I huffed, pouting at him, “so I’d think carefully about who’s side you take.”

“No you can’t Auntie Nova,” Elenor said loudly, “I invited him so you can’t kick him out.”

“Yeah, Auntie Nova, I’m Elenor’s guest,” he hummed. The smile on Charles' face turned into a smug smirk as he moved his hand into the air so Elenor could fist bump him, “thanks for having my back Ellie-bear,” he grinned, throwing her a wink. I couldn’t believe this, everyone was ganging up on me.

“Sempre zio Charles, sempre,” she grinned.

I couldn’t help but giggle slightly at the expression on Jax’s face as he watched his little girl speak in another language. Yes she didn’t pronounce it perfectly but for her age it was really good.

“And in English?” he asked, letting his eyes dart between me and his daughter.

“She said, always uncle Charles, always,” I beamed, leaning over and ruffling her hair. “in Italian.”

“Princess, where did you learn that?” Jax asked with a proud smile on his face, as he walked around the bar until he was now scooping her up in his arms.

“Pierre told me what uncle was in Italian and I knew what always was,” she giggled.

“I wonder where she learned that from,” Jax said with a playful tone, cocking his brow at me.

“No idea,” I shrugged, wiggling out of Charles arms.

“Yes you do auntie Nov,” Elenor grinned. Was I really about to be called out by my five year old niece? “you are always saying ‘Forza Ferrari, sempre!”

Apparently I was.

@withmyteeth @chibsytelford @stillbreathin @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie @dragon-of-winterfell @ohthemisssery @a-distantdreamer @sgkophie @angywritesstuff @enchantedbytomandhenry @scribbuluswrites @dangerouspursepeachbear @buendiabebeta @ferrarifwendvale @theplobnrgone @charlesleclercje @queenslife @panicforspec @justme2042 @liv67 @derpinathebrave @clcspeonies @pleasantducktimetravel @raaaaabzzz @mehrmonga @sbgal @fangirl-lb @pitconfirmbutton @oslokij @tall-tanned-tattoo @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @pumpkin-spice-hate @talicat713 @band--psycho @little-diable @i-love-scott-mccall @fourthwallhateclub @theysayitscrazy @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @meteora-fc @beeroses @darklydeliciousdesires @the-jer-bear @extraneousred @youflickedtooharddamnit @babypink224221

#Charles Leclerc #Charles Leclerc x oc #Charles Leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #Charles Leclerc series #sons of anarchy #jax teller #jax teller x reader #jax teller imagine #sons of anarchy imagine

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whipplefilter · 1 year ago

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Hey Whipple! I hope you’re doing well and that you’re having a good week!

Here’s your weekly ask!

What do you think Sally and McQueen do to hype each other up when they have a bad day or need an ego boost?

This could also apply to Flo and Ramone.

I feel like this is another one where the best examples already exist in canon. It's already in the text. We see Lightning hype Sally up on some level (bringing back the town's neon as a thank-you, after she wistfully describes the town before I-40), and see Sally do it directly at the start of Cars 3, when Lightning is weighing his options after his major wreck.

I think they ultimately vibe with each other so well because they can both be incredibly mushy-heartfelt, but also find genuine expression in sarcasm. I say "genuine expression" because they don't always use sarcasm as a veneer or distancing technique--sometimes it's a way of pulling back or not coming across as too invested, sure. But it's also just the way that words come out of them sometimes, and it's loving while also being the tiniest bit abrasive; it's not necessarily trying to hide anything. Like, Sally doesn't throw some sarcasm into her hype message because she's afraid of having a heartfelt moment with Lightning as he watches endless Doc crash videos in a dark barn in primer. It's a love language in itself; she says it because that's I love you.

#lightning mcqueen #sally carrera #pixar cars #cars fandom #asks

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 2 years ago

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Ridiculous Groupie Things Diane does to Hobie @ Shows (aka, Hobie realizing how much misogyny Diane goes through)

[This post is about my Spider-sona Diane Pastors, aka DiscoSpider, aka Hobie's number one fan. Their relationship status is officially groupie and guitarist.]

She owns a number of clothing that she wears only to his concerts, usually to annoy others

All of which Hobie loves. A couple are:

Of course, her signature guitar pick chain

A pair of booty shorts with 'HOBIE' bedazzeled across the ass

A number of shirts with his autograph, usually band tees from his tour

One of his spiked cuffs (he doesn't know she has it. yes, he's looking for it)

The most transferable lipstick she owns. She digs in the bottom of her makeup bag to find the one that smears the most and leaves a mark.

Hobie looks cute in kiss marks

A pair of Pleaser Brand stripper heels. Spider-balance means you'll never catch her tripping

At 5'11 - Any heel over 6 inches makes Diane taller than him, which Hobie ADORES - and he tells her this. He loves a stallion.

So she'll where 8 inch Pleaser heels, so she stands over the crowd. You WILL see her from the stage she's like the only chick in here that's 6'7"

But Hobie still carries a spare pair of shoes. He'll give her his chucks - or if she drukenly begs, his boots, and he gets to walk around holding the world's tallest heels

Fuck it, it'll just swap shoes with her and put them on. He's standing there in heels while she's in his boots talking about how her feet hurt

She wears one of Hobies shirts around a belt loop.

Hobies likes to throw his shirt off stage.

Fans love fighting for that shit like it's a wedding reception and he's throwing the bouquet

But here comes Diane-

She's 6'7" in heels and RIGHT next to the stage - so she's always catches it. Snatches that shit right out the air. Full on interceptions.

And of course the other fans get pissed, because sis you already have his pick what more do you want

Is he aiming it in her direction? Or does she just know which way he's gonna throw it??

Who cares - either way she got it and will wear it on her waist the whole night. It's debatable if she even gives the shirt back to him. Only if she doesn't like the design that much

She always asks him what he's wearing so they can color coordinate

Gets annoyed when he shrugs and goes 'idunno was just gonna pull something on'

Cause Diane has to carefully algorithmically put together outfits like she's Cher from Clueless

She uses the Lyla in her watch for fashion advice even though Miguel tells her that's not what Lylas for

(Diane: but look at her little coat and glasses and stuff. She knows what she's talking about)

Meanwhile Hobie can pull on ANYTHING and it'll come together like Alexander McQueen rose from the grave to construct it himself

She gets his autograph every time

She'll wait in the line like everyone else - she doesn't care

Hobie laughs every time she makes it to the front

He'll be ready to thank the fan and sign the photo only to look up and Diane's standing there - big ass smile on her face

Drunk, 6'7" like "Awwww I'm your biggest fan, I'm so happy to meet you, I love you so much AH 👅

She's constantly caught by security who thinks she's just a rabid fan that snuck in

And she HATES bouncers with a passion. Like a vendetta against them irregardless of universe

It's a personal thing (they never let her into the Disco clubs before she turned 18. So she hates them, even though that's their job)

BUT NOW she looks at bouncers like 'im taller and stronger than you so don't put yourself between me and my man cause GOOD LUCK brotha'

Hobie has to step in all the time and break up arguments to tell security that yeah there's rabid groupies backstage that need to be taken care of

Except this one, this one he specifically knows already - she's fine

But there's some she's cool with

Some bouncers that know her face and guitar pick and let her through right away because she buys people drinks and she's a friendly drunk

It's not rare for Hobie to walk by a bouncer and have them say 'Oi, Diane's looking for you.'

She talks up every guitarist in the venue. Featuring Artist or an opening act? If you're a guitarist GREAT

it's like she spawns next to you like a COD lobby

Half the time she catches them off guard like

Guitarists in the circuit know about her. She's THE GROUPIE.

Like the Godfather of Ginessing Guitarists

It's helpful that Hobie always knows when someone is talking about Diane.

He's heard it all - The groupie chick, the guitarist girl, or his favorite - "Hobie's girl."

One of the only times he doesn't correct people on that.

Because he knows they don't mean it like that, they just know that Diane is here for HIM, and she's his plus 1.

If you perform after Hobie - tough tiddies. She's leaving with him.

Shoot your shot before he gets on stage and DO NOT try and talk to her during his set.

All the guitarists know about her - and yeah she'll fuck them but they better know come Saturday she's gonna be at HOBIE's show goddamn it

Don't be asking her to come see you on show night she's gonna look at you like 'absolutely not. actually you're ridiculous for asking lose my number'

It doesn't come without it's slutshaming

And that's what surprised Hobie so much.

He knew about sexism OF COURSE but he just didn't realize how quick people are to just go there - for no reason.

Diane LOVES fellow groupies, but some don't love her. A small percentage.

And it's been a couple times Hobie's heard one call Diane a slut or bimbo under their breath. He seen girls outright call her a bitch.

There's been girls who try to trip her, or spill drinks down her dress, or get her kicked out or something

And Diane usually has the same response : "Can't wait to tell Hobie about this after I fuck him. AGAIN."

And if you don't like it - talk to this Daiquiri in the face cause she's throwing her drink yfvlhvjlj

She's not fighting anybody - for their sake. She has an unfair advantage being both pretty and semi-superhuman.

But Diane is more likely to be wounded by it if it comes from a girl. She's not taking any shit - but she's like 'Damn sis we could've been besties.'

But it's the dudes that get Hobie really heated, and it makes his skin crawl

Dudes who ask him questions, ask if Diane is easy or how many times they shagged. If he thinks they have a chance at getting her in bed, what she's willing to do

Sometimes dudes make the mistake of thinking Hobie is a safe space for sexist shit like that - HE ISN'T.

Sometimes they just say the most vulgar shit about her, or what she's wearing, thinking he'll be like 'i know that's right bruv'

NO.

Hobie isn't one to violence when someone is simply being a dumbass, but he will quickly tell them that if he catches dude around her, he's gonna ruin his mfing night

Hobie isn't possessive or protective of Diane by any means

But he hates people who take her for an idiot - just because she's enjoying herself. Especially guys who only see her as a little groupie bot that dispenses sex and attention

He's seen her defuse bombs and shit on missions. She's so much more than that

And Diane tells him to ignore it, or even better, laugh at it. That's what she does

Diane has been dealing with it all her life - being taken for one-dimensional, or worse, dumb

Sometimes even Miguel or Jess treat her like she's nowhere near as smart as an average Peter.

And sure it hurt sometimes, Diane would love if she could come up with plans or gadgets like everyone else

But she's realized that whenever she's called things like a bimbo or a groupie, usually the people who mean it hurtfully are just as one-dimensional as they think she is

She figures if these people lack the self awareness to see her for who she is, she already has an advantage on them

Sure, she wishes she could be the 'professional, respected' woman like Jess is. But then she thinks for more than two seconds

Then realizes she loves sparkles, and dancing, and funky basslines and fruity cocktails and pretty boys.

And all of that makes her way happier than all that stuffy shit

She likes being a groupie. She LOVES it.

The way Hobie smiles when she compliments him, doing her makeup in bar bathrooms and feeling the excitement backstage during soundcheck, or waiting in line for autographs with the Lucky Charms

Always making her way to the front row and looking up at him, seeing his eyes search for her in the crowd

And when they're eyes meet, it's always like she's back at her first time at a show.

She wouldn't do it if it didn't make her happy.

And that's why Hobie loves it too.

No matter how 'weird' someone may think it is.

She's not hurting anybody, she's just being happy.

She's showing her love for him - and she's not letting anyone stop her. And he loves her for it.

Every guitarist needs a great groupie.

BONUS:

Rockstar things Hobie does for Diane @ Shows

All the bartenders know about Diane. It's the first thing Hobie does.

And when she arrives, she always gets Daquiri's on the house. Courtesy of the guitarist.

He always gives an encore.

She'll always be cheering for one - and who is he to let his groupie down

He's always sure to play her favorite songs again

and he ALWAYS gives a solo. (She goes Miguel Mode everytime)

Diane picks every single.

It didn't start out that way, but Hobie found he loved songs a lot more when Diane couldn't get them out of her head

When she went around the boathouse humming a chorus or repeating a lyric

or outright GUSHING about how cool the song is, how awesome he'd look on stage playing it, which of his outfits goes along best.

And every time she says it's her favorite, he can help but make it a single.

He always wants to make the songs as catchy as he can, just to hear the sound of her singing them when only he can hear.

#this is so fucking gushy BYE #PURE FLUFF OKAY #it starts funny then goes heated then goes SOFT #hobie brown #atsv #across the spiderverse #across the spider-verse #spiderpunk #spider punk #discospider #disco spider #hobie brown x oc #hobie x oc #spidersona #spidersonas #oc writing

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