#wag!reader

[littlelamy]

small moodboard: INTRODUCING ferrariracer!rafe x wag!reader

she had been just an ordinary college student, enjoying campus life, until one night changed everything. at a friend’s party—another wag—she met rafe cameron, and from that moment on, they were inseparable.

now, she’s his number-one fan, cheering him on at every race and wearing his number with pride. always full of energy, she organizes fun trips with the other racer wags and has brought back the fun, glamorous early 2000s wag vibe.

more...

behind the scenes

[etclouie]

footballer!james and this prompt maybe? ¹⁶²⁾ “do you remember the room number?” i lokey love wag!reader more than james 

title; hungry kisses and bedroom misses (James Potter x fem!reader)

prompts; “do you remember the room number?” — from three hundred assorted dialogue prompts 

warnings; established relationship, footballer!james x wag!reader, allusions to sex, so minors do not interact!!!, one ass slap, some kissing, james hauls reader over his shoulder at the end but that’s it (364 words)

one year masterlist | main masterlist

— come celebrate my one year!!

James had taken you out to dinner before his game tomorrow night, wanting to spend as much time as possible with you before the game.

so as soon as dinner was finished, James was pulling you back to the hotel room with a newfound hunger in his eyes.

his hold on your hand was tight, pulling you along behind him through the hotel’s corridors, the room numbers passing quickly.

“James..”

you tried, but he shook his head, the room key in his hand as he continued the search for the room.

“do you remember the room number?”

that made you giggle, earning a huff from James—who had clearly forgotten the room number, in his haste to get you into said room.

you weren’t sure how he’d forgotten it, but it was still amusing to watch him look for it.

“it’s on the sixth floor, we’re on the fourth right now”

his head whipped around to you at that, eyebrows knitted together.

“sweetheart, could’a told me that”

James sighed, reaching for your hand as he walked you back towards the lifts, pressing the button and waiting for it to come.

you stayed tucked into his side, his arm around your shoulders while he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“room number baby”

he prompted, cradling your jaw with his other hand to tilt your head back before he surged forward to kiss you.

“204”

you whispered against his lips, humming as he kissed you again, backing you into the lift once it had arrived.

James only broke the kiss to press the right floor button, before his lips were right back on yours in a hungry kiss.

the kiss was all teeth and tongue, a testament of James’ hunger and his plans for you once he got you back into the room.

when the lift chimed on your floor, James pulled away with a huff, his hands pulling you out of the lift after him before he hauled you over his shoulder.

“James!”

you squealed, slapping at his shoulder while he gave your ass a slap in return.

“patience baby, don’t go screaming my name before i get you in the room”

reblogs are highly appreciated !

[angelicblondie]

footballplayer!rafe x wag!reader (MDNI)

note: i dont know a lot about football so some details about that might be wrong!!

it was safe to say that your life had drastically changed over the last year.

before you met rafe, you were simply a girl working a marketing 9 to 5, with a fairly boring life. you had dinner with you parents once a month, went to work every day, you had nights out with you friends on the weekends- your life was just like any other girl approaching her mid 20s.

however, over a year ago, you were at a bar on a saturday night with a couple of your girlfriends, just trying to let loose from the week. you were only a couple shots in when you spotted the handsome stranger eyeing you from afar, and you were immediately filled with intrigue. rafe felt himself being magnetically pulled to your direction, sauntering over to where you stood with your friends by the bar.

he approached you with his sickly charming smile, wooing you instantly. the two of you got to talking and if you were honest, you were smitten instantly. about 5 minutes into the conversation you realized who you were talking to - rafe cameron, the new startup qb for your cities team. you weren't a huge football fan, but you'd have to be living under a rock not to know who rafe freaking cameron was. he had become a huge deal in the past months, reasons ranging from his killer wrist to his deadly looks.

you had seen girls thirsting over him on social media and you couldnt help but agree - the guy was smoking hot, even more so in person, making you honestly a little surprised he was even talking to you.

you look a sip of your drink, eyeing him thoughtfully. "so, whats a hot shot like you doing in this dump?" you ask, your voice teasing yet soft.

rafe let out a chuckle. "I could ask you the same question. dont you gotta boyfriend at home or somethin'?" he asked experimentally, awaiting you answer with the tilt of his head.

you bit your lip, catching his drift. "no boyfriend," you reply, twirling the straw in your drink. "how 'bout you? no groupie chasing after you?"

rafe poked his tongue into his cheek with a smile, shaking his head. "nah, on my own at the moment."

you hum, nodding along to his words before wrapping your lips around your straw, locking into his eyes as you sucked the liquid out of your glass.

thats how you ended up on his bed later that night, letting him pound into you as you screamed into his pillow - truly the best sex you had ever had at that point.

whilst your sexual chemistry was undeniable, so was your romantic chemistry. the two of you flowed into conversation easily, and could feel the early excitement of your new situation.

you spent the whole week at rafes house - only leaving his side for work, and him for training. the two of you showered in the morning, made or ordered in meals for dinner, and talked late into the night, about anything and everything (and of course, had sex. lots and lots of it). you got to know rafe, from his early childhood, to embarrassing high school stories, crazy college encounters, and all about his love for football. and rafe got to know you too, since you found yourself uncontrollably sharing things you had never uttered to another soul, wondering why it was you felt so connected to him - why you trusted and liked him so much already.

at the end of the week though, it was time for you and rafe to part ways, since the football season had started, causing rafe to need to travel.

you were inexplicably crushed, wondering if your time together had run its course, and if it was time to say bye forever - only remembering each other by the perfect week, and nothing more.

luckilly though, that wasnt the case - you and rafe just couldn't stay away from each other. he called you every night, as long as he could. you watched his games on the tv in your living room, texting him after each time to congratulate or console him, depending on the outcome. you even brushed up on your football knowledge, wanting to be more useful in conversations about the topic and to understand what was going on in the games.

your friends were of course happy for you, but also perplexed. you had just met the guy, and you two were already acting like a married couple. but once you formally introduced him to them, they understood.

the two of you just simply had a special connection, and admired each other so much. it was like you skipped all the awkward first dates and base line questions, and just jumped right into the good stuff - and it was (and still is) perfect.

that how you got here - a year after the two of you made it official only 2 month into knowing each other - in a stadium in sunny california.

your boyfriend was playing against the LA team, and you were seated in a box with the other friends and family of the players, sitting next to rafes dad and step-mom, as well as his sister sarah.

you and sarah had wine glasses in your hands as you sat in the first row, sunglasses covering you eyes as you waited for the game to start. you saw the occasional phone camera pointed your way, and you gave a small smile a wave.

you had definitely received more attention since you and rafe began your relationship - people had flooded you social media accounts with both love and hate, and had began to treat you as if you were some celebrity, which was strange, since you were just some girlfriend of a football player.

a very popular football player, but still.

with you new platform, you were able to post the cutest pics of rafe and you, (and some very hot pics of him alone), and also make a bit of money from it. you still worked in marketing, but had decided to mostly work online and remotely, making it easier to travel with rafe when needed.

a big topic of conversation between the two of you when you started dating was how you would approach that part of your relationhip - balancing your individual lives to meet in the middle.

you had made it clear that you wanted to be your own person, aside from being his girlfriend. although rafe could certainly provide for the two of you, for now, you quite liked relying on yourself for your pay, and you liked the independence that came with it. of course, rafe was supportive of this decision, but made it clear that this wouldn't stop him from spoiling you with any presents and treats that he could think of - only the very best treatment for his girl.

that being said, you still wanted to see him as much as possible, and since your job offered flexibility, you decided to take the opportunity to be able to move with him when needed and continue to work for yourself.

the game was an important one - it was the game that decided whether or not the boys would make it to the superbowl.

rafe had been jittery the whole day before, pacing around in your hotel room and cracking every bone in his body. you had tried to get him to relax, but his mind was running wild.

he kept trying to find something to do. for example, he spent a whole 3 hours in the hotel gym, working out to prepare himself. you gently scolded him once he returned though, worrying it would only make him sore.

you then ran him a bath, hopping in as well so you could try to ease his nerves.

you made the environment as relaxing as possible, lighting some candles and incense, filling the bath with bubbles and lavender essential oils, soft jazz playing in the background.

you sat behind rafe, softly massaging his back to relieve the obvious tension. you whispered reassurances in his ear, wanting him to go into the game with confidence in his abilities, and a clear head.

"the only way your going to win tomorrow is if your thinking of what your doing in the moment, not the past, and certainly not the future. you have to be present and open minded, not driven by emotions or fear," you had reminded him softly, turning him around so he could look into your eyes.

rafe nodded, a serious yet tired look on his face. he worked so hard, and he was so good at what he did. you wanted this so badly for him, but knew that the only way he would play his best tommorw was if he got out of his head.

"i know, baby. you know how i get like," rafe murmured, bringing you onto his lap and tucking his face into your neck, prompting you to wrap your arms around his neck and run your fingers through his wet hair.

"if its any consolation, I'll be proud of you no matter what. you've worked so so hard this season, and everyone sees it. I truly cant think of someone more deserving of this than you, babe," you reassure, trying to make you voice as soothing as possible.

you meant your words of course, but you really did want him to win. you knew how competitive he could be, and like him, so were you.

so once the game started, you removed the sunglasses off your head and into you purse, sitting down and taking a long sip of wine.

it was a long game, rafe team managing to get the first touchdown, causing your section to jump up into the air and celebrate. the screen had shifted to your boxes reaction, zooming in on you and sarah hugging and jumping up and down in excitement, cheering louder than anyone else there.

rafe had looked up, trying not to get too excited and keep his head in the game, but seeing you jump around so happily for him caused him to break out into a large smile, blowing a large kiss your way before running to his groups huddle.

the game got a bit rough after that, the other team getting 2 touchdowns causing you to wince each time, taking long sips of you drink. any time rafe looked in your direction you sent him a proud smile regardless, wanting to keep his spirts and hopes high.

by the 4th quarter, the other team had 4 points on you guys, meaning all you needed to win was just one touchdown.

with about 5 minutes left, the two teams on the field hadn't managed to score any points, and you were starting to worry. rafe, as quarterback, was talking to the coach of his team with a serious expression nodding along to his words before running over to his team. using his hands a bit, he explained the play, looking at each of their faces to make sure they understood the plan.

once it started, you and sarah were squeezing eachother hands tightly, muttering words of encouragement as your eyes glued to the field. you could hear the voice of ward narrating to rose, explaining what he thought the play would be and what would be the smartest option. you wanted to role your eyes at his condescending tone, but decided against it, focussing your attention on the game.

you watched in focus as rafe threw the ball back to one of his teammates, and they passed the ball to another. you lost sight of the ball whilst keeping your eyes on rafe (a constant tendency), and before you knew it, you turned your head to see one of his teammates run across the end zone and hold the ball up high, celebrating his victory.

you all immediately jumped up, cheering in celebration. you face broke out into the biggest grin as you watched rafe and all of his team mates pile on top of each other on the field.

the game still had about 4 minutes left, but it didnt matter, because luckily, the other team didnt manage another touchdown, meaning rafe and his team were going into the super bowl.

you and rafes family met him out back of the stadium, instantly hugging and congratulating him. you of course held on extra long, kissing his face all over casting a red hue on his cheeks.

before going out to dinner all together, you and rafe went to congratulate other members of his team and some of his friends, talking for a bit about the events of the game.

during dinner you sat close to rafe, his hand on your thigh as you leaned on his shoulder, enjoying the high of his victory and chatting casually with his family. eventually you two parted from the other, walking the short distance back to your hotel and luckily not getting recognized.

the minute you stepped into the room you were on rafe, holding his face as you pushed your lips onto his, as he grabbed your hips in mild shock. once it wore off, he took control of the kiss, walking backwards to the bed. once his knees met the corner and he fell back, you straddle his waist, waisting no time to lift the shirt of his body, revealing his toned figure underneath.

soon the two of you were a mix of sweaty bodies under the sheets, writhing in pleasure and letting out muffled noises. rafe had you underneath him, arching your back off the sheets and letting out little whimpers, too embarrassed to be loud, fearing the thin walls of the hotel.

"let it out, baby, I want to hear you," rafe coaxed.

you whine, grabbing his tone biceps. "cant, rafe. people'll hear"

rafe laughed a bit sadistically, squeezing your waist and pounding into you hard. "don't care. want everyone t'hear how good m'making y'feel. c'mon, you can let it out, I know y'can."

you moaned a little louder this time, cursing loudly whilst you screamed. "fuck, please, rafe, m'so close."

rafe placed one of his hands on your lower stomach and watched as he pressed down, earning a high pitched gasp and moan from you, throwing your head back against the pillows.

rafe tilted his head up to look at you and his lips tilted upwards. "yeah? can y'feel me? right here in your tummy?"

you nod wordlessly, your body squirming in pure pleasure. "please, rafe, I need t'come."

rafe continued his pace, groaning gutturally as he approached his own high. "fuck, go ahead baby."

your walls clenched around his dick, and rafe watched, tranfixed as the white ringlet appeared near the base of his cock, becoming more and more definded every time he slowly moved in and out of you. the view made his reach his own organsm, cumming into the condowm as he threw his head back, his stomach clenching as he released.

the two of you spent the rest of the night cuddled in bed, watching a movie and snacking on the room service you had delivered. and you truly couldn't ask for a better way to celebrate your boyfriends accomplishment.

[starkeyvhs]

30 love!

oh what pleasure it is to be rafe cameron’s wife, rafe cameron, who’s currently up at #5 in the atp rankings at just 23. rafe cameron, who won the 2024 us open, and since then, has been an absolute beast on the court. he doesn’t back down, he doesn’t give up. he gives it all. and you, you’re his backbone. everyone sees you living the wag life, sitting in the crowd and watching each match of his as you sip on your champagne and cheer him on. but they don’t know how much you’ve changed rafe. how he used to be so aggressive on the court, cursing, breaking rackets, and in return, only earning warnings and risks of losing. you were the one who brought him on the right track, changed his mindset and made him more of a quiet hustler instead of being loud and braggy. and each day, he only gets increasingly grateful for your presence in his life.

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

a/n: I have been watching wimbledon religiously and watching trinity && ben inspired this!! besides this au, i have a rafe fic in drafts which is also tennis player rafe and reader doubles team :) but anyways!! I love athelete rafe && wag reader so here's my own take on them 🤭 send in literally anything for them!! <3

taglist: @oxpogues4lifexo / @inthelibrarybtw / @mccaffreyswifey / @chenslucy / @totalswag / @wearemadeofstardust0 / @percysley / @superswaggycooch / @kaileashiftz / @weirdowithnobeardo / @chimchimjiminie16 / @ursovaine / @mariamadison6-blog / @snowtargaryen / @htlkira / @hrtshapedblg / @cherrys-muses / @mattyskies / @alexxavicry / @superlegend216 / @smithieandy / @rae455 / @rafesbabygirlx / @p45510n4f4shi0n / @sophiesmovingcastle5 / @bebebambs

tagging a few moots: @runningfrom2am / @ilyrafe / @zyafics / @nemesyaaa / @ladyinbl00d / @jjsbank444 / @b1mb0slvt / @maddsxfall / @congratsloserr

[coolgrl111]

you should do a wag auuu

OMGGGGG!!!! i love wag!reader. she’s everything i wanna be fr

[all444glo]

HAB!JARED X WAG!READER HEADCANONS

Y’all met at Duke—two standout athletes, both gaining internet success. The chemistry was instant, but it wasn’t rushed.

He respected your discipline before anything else. You weren’t caught up in campus popularity , and that made him lean in harder.

He lets you lead. He doesn’t feel threatened by your success—he stands beside you proudly.

He showed up for you in the smallest ways—study snacks during finals, warm-ups before games, quiet pep talks when you felt like quitting

“I’m an honors student, I should just keep going with school, I could be a successful teacher!”

“Y/N please don’t piss me off…”

Your relationship wasn’t performative. Even though y’all were “entertainment” to everyone watching, it was always deeper than content.

Y’all didn’t perform for the world. Your intimacy shows in care, which is why one day you all decided to keep you alls relationship off the internet. No more vlogs, no more story times. You all let everyone assume what they wanted.

After tough games, y’all try to decompress together. Showers, candles, stretching each other out on the floor while music plays low. Sometimes no words—just breath, hands, intimacy.

Draft night night came and you were in the crowd acting like you weren’t about to cry before his name even got called. Your makeup was amazing before you all sat down. But the proud look on his families face as long with his made you weak, your eyes stayed glossy and you teared up constantly during the entire ceremony.

Jared kept looking at you between interview questions, mouthing “You good?” and all you could do was nod and squeeze his hand under the table. You’d seen how hard he worked, how many nights he sat icing his knees while editing watching film. You knew he had doubts, and as tonight was the biggest reassurance you could ever give him.

When “For the 16th pick the Philadelphia 76ers select…Jared McCain…” echoed through the Barclays Center, you stood before he did. Screamed like you got drafted yourself. Jumped on him, damn near straddled him in that suit, tears everywhere.

You leaned in, pressed your forehead to his, and whispered, “We made it, baby, we did it!”

Because it wasn’t just his moment—it was both of yours, and you already knew your time was coming just as big.

He brings your Duke jersey to his games and keeps it with his things. You didn’t even know until the cameras caught him waving it around after he dropped his first 30.

After your last collegiate triple-double, he flew out same night just to surprise you. When you came out the locker room , he didn’t say much—just hugged you tight and whispered, “You’re still not beating me.”

You hoop together in his off-time, but it’s never about who’s better. It’s about sharpening each others skills.

He knows your game like his own. “Watch that spin—she’s baitin’ your left,” he’ll tell your teammates during your practice.

When y’all train, it’s quiet—focused. And then later that night, he’ll joke, “You lucky I love you, ‘cause I would’ve blocked that weak ass step-through.” And you’ll smirk, “Shoulda coulda woulda, do it next time.”

He knows how to ground you. When the media’s loud or the pressure’s up, he brings you back down. “Don’t let them get you out of character,” he always says “They want you to act like that” And it always works.

You write notes in his duffle. He keeps them in his locker like scripture.

This man showed up in a custom tapestry hoodie with different pictures of you your face printed on it. Your college number and #1 was embroidered on it, it was tiny but it was cute.

He was pacing in his Asics like he was about to get drafted again

When they said, “With the #1 pick, the New York Liberty select…” and your name dropped, he jumped before you did. Grabbed you, spun you around, crying in a way that made the whole room stop.

Y’all hugged forever. Cameras catching him whispering, “I told you. Number one, how could you doubt it?.” And your tears didn’t stop ‘til you hit the stage, looking back and seeing him holding his composure like he’d never been prouder.

Afterward, y’all took photos like a prom couple—you wore his draft day hat and you wore his both of y’all cheesin’ like first day of school.

From that night on, Jared always snuck seafoam somewhere in his game day fits: a beanie, a lace trim, socks, even a matching mani once.

You? Toooo annoying. Wore a throwback Allen Iverson tee under your warmup just to “accidentally” flash it when you pulled off your top. Philly earrings, Sixers hat at postgames.

Nobody hears the end of it. Constant story reposts of each other’s stats. “Filled stat sheet, my baby helped me hit my parlay 🥹”

Every holiday, every break, y’all host a charity skills clinic for city kids between Brooklyn and Philly, always making it about community. But then still arguing over who’s “the new face” of their respective franchise.

In y’all’s private moments, it’s still quiet prayer, forehead kisses, and him warming your shooting hand in his lap before games. All that noise, all that extra was fun, but nothing compared to when it was just yall.

You knew something was wrong before it even happened, you blamed it on nerves but you knew something bad was happening that day.

You flew to Philly the same day he got injured. Didn’t even wait for clearance or a break in your schedule. Your agent tried to talk you out of it, and you just hit them with a flat, “He would’ve done it for me.”

The first time you walked into his hospital room, he tried to hit you with a smile. “Don’t you have a game today?” he joked with his knee propped and wrapped. You kissed his forehead and whispered, “I could care less about the wnba right now”

Recovery was slow. The kind that eats at a man who lives to move. Jared was an athlete on top of probably having some form of undiagnosed of ADHD. His stagnancy killed him from the inside out.

You stayed on him— overnight shipping meal preps, mental health check-ins, making him put his phone down when he started spiraling into stats and trade rumors.

One night, he broke down. “I feel better— why do I have to be out for the whole season?” He sobbed “What if I’m not the same after this and they trade me?” And you just held him. Quiet, firm. “Then we adjust. You are worth more than your abilities Jared, you need to heal inside and out first”

When you went back to New York he started facetiming you from the recovery gym—him on the bike, you lifting after practice. Y’all turned rehab into ritual, and made it something much more intimate. Something in you healed watching him heal.

He was still rehabbing when the Liberty went on their run. Minimal travel, but was glued to every game—jersey on, seafoam towel in hand, pacing like a coach in his living room.

After every round, he facetimed you crying like you weren’t the one playing. “They not touching you, babe. That lynx whistle is sick, I would have crashed out too”

When y’all made it to the Finals, he begged the training staff to let him fly out for the last game. The Sixers’ media team told him, “You can fly to the Finals if you give us at least one vlog and a tiktok post.”

So this man packed his ring light, a mic, and his best media-friendly tunnel outfit. His vlog started with: “POV: Your girl’s about to win a chip and you’re just here to be loud and emotional.”

He inserts a clip of him heckling a heckler.

In the vlog, he filmed himself shopping in New York “Need a seafoam ‘fit, unfortunately that appears to be a niche color?” He tried on three outfits before choosing one with subtle Liberty colors. “New York do better, why are yall not supporting the only good basketball team yall have?”

He filmed a lil’ “Day in My Life as a Supportive Boyfriend at the WNBA Finals” TikTok: coffee run, holding your duffle bag, screaming from courtside, taking videos of you on the low while mouthing various compliments. The comments were unhinged. “The way he’s acting like he too isn’t a professional basketball player”

They had him mic’d up courtside, and the moment you hit a jumper, he stood up so fast his chair nearly flipped. “My lady a bucket!”He was yelling stats mid-possession like he was on commentary: “That’s her tenth, TEN. You see the left hand finish? That’s not even her dominant hand, she does this.”

During a timeout, the camera panned to him and he threw up a heart with his hands—but when you glanced over and did the same, he dramatically clutched his chest like he’d been shot. “Oh my god, we just flirted on national TV. I can’t go back to my seat, I gotta propose or something.”

The Liberty staff had to pull him back into his seat 'cause he was standing on the sideline giving you coaching tips through gritted teeth like he was part of the staff.

Jared stepped a little too close when y’all broke from the bench, hands on his hips like he was just observing. He stood there quiet, eyes locked in like he was studying film, then when y’all brought it in for the huddle clap, he subtly slid his arm in too. Didn’t look at anybody. Didn’t smirk. Just stood there like it was his timeout too.

The clip hit Twitter before the quarter ended, the official 76ers account posting it saying:“Bro thinks he’s part of the team” and a quote tweet from the Libs said: “If we win, he’s taking home a ring too 🤷‍♀️”

You saw him in the locker room after the final buzzer—mascara streaked from crying, champagne in your braids, and he was already crying again.

He met you at center court, kissed your forehead, and whispered sweet nothings to you. You pulled him into the biggest hug, both of you shaking from the weight of it all.

They saved the announcement for post-game, while y’all were still riding the high of the championship confetti. The arena still buzzing, streamers falling, and suddenly the arena voice cuts through:

“And to top it all off… this season’s Rookie of the Year…”

Jared turned to you before they even said your name. He already knew.

When they said it—your name, echoing through the mic—you froze. Trophy in one arm, now another being walked toward you. Your teammates screaming, pushing you forward.

Jared’s voice cracked as he yelled, “That’s my fucking girlfriend!” He yelled excitedly forgetting he was mic’d up.

You didn’t even hold the ROY award at first. Just pointed at it, tears in your lashes, chest rising. “To think I was gonna give up playing and just be a teacher?,” you said in the postgame interview. And Jared behind you? Clapping, lips pressed together to hold in how proud he really was.

Back in the locker room, the team popped bottle after bottle, but Jared found you tucked in a corner drying off. He kissed your temple and whispered, “Rookie of the Year, Champion, and still my beautiful girlfriend. I’m so lucky”

The photos? Idiotic, both of y’all were beyond drunk.. Him in your goggles with the trophy, you holding his waist from the side, holding up your jersey.

Later, when y’all got back to the hotel? You made him hold both trophies while you changed into your victory outfit. He took pictures like a proud AAU dad, cheesin’ hard. “You want ‘em in the crib or your mama’s house?” he asked. You grinned. “Keep ‘em close. I’m not done collecting.”

After the win, he posted: “She won the ‘chip. I won in general.” Every picture had you in the background or on his shirt. Slide 3 was just him crying in the hallway,slide 5 was a zoom in of your name embroidered on his sleeve, slide 10 was you with your championship ring with a heavy engagement ring stacked on top of it.

And the internet couldn’t wait to hate when he showed up the next week in a full Liberty warmup at a Sixers press conference. “I’m just a supportive man in his WAG era,” he said with a grin. “What can I say?”

[etclouie-masterlists]

— 𝐄𝐓𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐈𝐄'𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐆!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ original au post here

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ marauders masterlist | main masterlist

— #wag!reader

— * contains smut / suggestive content, warnings posted on each individual fic; read and heed the warnings. all content is 18+, mdni

— sweet girl

requests can be made here !

[charlotteking27]

The pretty interviewer

Max Verstappen x reader

Summary: You are Max's favorite interviewer...so much that he will not stop flirting with you.

PT2: Pursuing the journalist

Three Races Earlier…

You stand off to the side of the paddock, fiddling with your Sky Sports F1 microphone. As the newest member of the broadcasting team, you typically handle the less significant interviews, while the veteran reporters get to speak with drivers like Max Verstappen. Today, you're set to interview one of the midfield teams.

The buzz in the paddock suddenly grows as Max comes out of the Red Bull garage after his stunning pole position. A crowd of reporters quickly surrounds him, microphones pushed forward, voices overlapping with "Max! Max, a moment, please!"

You watch from your quiet spot while he walks past them, his expression neutral and barely acknowledging them. This scene is familiar. Max is known for being choosy with the media and often speaks only to a select few senior reporters.

That’s why your heart skips a beat when his eyes suddenly turn to you. His face brightens with a smile, and before you realize it, he changes direction and walks confidently toward your corner.

"Sorry," he tells the stunned reporters behind him, not sounding sorry at all. "I'm giving my first interview to her."

You hear your producer’s voice in your earpiece: "Wait, what's happening?"

Max stops right in front of you, that familiar half-smile on his lips. "Hi," he says casually, as if he hasn’t just brushed off every major broadcaster in the paddock.

"I… um…" You struggle to collect your thoughts, acutely aware of the jealous stares from the other reporters. "Hi?"

He laughs softly at your surprise. "You're new, right? I've seen you around. You ask good questions – technical ones. Not just the usual PR stuff."

"I… yes, I started this weekend," you manage to reply, still in shock. "But shouldn't you be talking to—"

"I'm talking to exactly who I want to talk to," he cuts in, his Dutch accent somehow stronger when he speaks softly. "So, would you like to hear about that qualifying lap?"

𐙚

That first interview changed everything. Since then, Max has asked to give you his post-session interviews. Each one became more flirtatious than the last. This brings you to today.

The Red Bull garage looms ahead as you adjust your Sky Sports F1 microphone for the thousandth time. Post-qualifying interviews are routine by now, but nothing about interviewing Max Verstappen has ever felt normal. Especially not since he started doing whatever this is.

"Three minutes," your producer says through your earpiece. You try to focus on your questions, but all you can think of is last week's interview. Max had deliberately held your gaze so long that you forgot the second half of your question.

He emerges from the garage, race suit tied at his waist as usual. Your heart skips a beat as he approaches, wearing that annoying half-smile that makes you forget basic English.

"Max, congratulations on another pole position," you begin professionally.

"Thanks," he interrupts, eyes shining. "I was hoping it would be you interviewing me today."

You feel warmth creeping up your neck. Stay professional, you remind yourself. "That last lap was incredible. How did you find the grip through—"

"The grip was good," he says, leaning slightly closer than necessary. "But you seem a bit nervous today. Everything okay?"

Your producer chuckles in your ear. Traitor.

"I'm perfectly fine," you manage, though your voice comes out higher than you wanted. "About turn three—"

"You're cute when you're flustered," he says quietly, just low enough that the microphone won't catch it. The smirk on his lips tells you he knows exactly what he's doing.

You almost drop your notebook. "I'm trying to conduct an interview here," you whisper back, fighting a smile.

"And I'm trying to ask you out," he counters smoothly before raising his voice back to interview level. "But yes, turn three was tricky today. The crosswind made it challenging."

Your face feels like it's on fire. You're painfully aware of the camera rolling, capturing what must be the most unprofessional blush in F1 broadcasting history.

"Speaking of challenges," Max continues, clearly enjoying himself, "there's this great restaurant in Monaco that's almost impossible to get into. I have a reservation for two tomorrow night if you're interested in discussing race strategy, of course."

You hear your producer choking back laughter. "The interview, Max," you remind him, trying to sound stern despite your racing heart.

"Right, right. The interview." He grins. "But about dinner…"

"Maybe we should finish talking about your qualifying lap first?" You're fighting a losing battle against your smile now.

"Fine," he sighs dramatically, then winks. "But just so you know, I'm going to keep flirting with you until you say yes."

Your producer is practically cackling now. "Best. Interview. Ever," she whispers in your ear.

"The qualifying lap, Max," you insist, but you’re grinning too.

"The qualifying lap," he agrees, finally sitting up straight and attempting to look serious. "But I should warn you, I'm very persistent. Almost as persistent as I am on track."

You shake your head, trying to remember your questions through the butterfly storm in your stomach. One thing's for sure—this interview is definitely going viral on F1 Twitter.

And maybe, just maybe, you'll say yes to that dinner in Monaco.

𐙚

You barely remember how you finished that interview. Your mind is still spinning from Max's dinner invitation. But the real chaos is just starting.

Your notifications have not stopped buzzing since that interview aired. #MaxAndTheReporter is trending on Twitter, and F1 TikTok is having a field day with edited clips of every moment you and Max shared during the past three races.

"OMG THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HER," says one viral tweet, featuring a slow-motion clip of Max's eyes softening when he sees you in the paddock.

"Remember when Max used to HATE interviews? Now he’s literally running to them. #MaxAndTheReporter." This tweet includes a side-by-side comparison of his usual stern media face and his smile when he approaches you.

Your producer sends you a link to a fan-made compilation video titled "Every time Max Verstappen has flirted with the Sky Sports reporter (so far)." It has already gathered 2 million views.

Not everyone is convinced. "She's just another reporter," one skeptic tweets. "Max is probably just being nice."

That theory gets blown away during the next race weekend. You're interviewing Carlos Sainz when Max casually walks by. He does such an obvious double-take that Carlos starts laughing mid-answer.

"I think someone wants to interrupt this interview," Carlos teases, watching Max hover nearby with barely hidden impatience.

"He can wait his turn," you respond professionally, though your cheeks warm when you hear Max chuckle behind you.

"Can I?" Max calls out. "Because I'm pretty sure my dinner reservation is in an hour, and someone still hasn't given me an answer."

Carlos raises his eyebrows and grins. "Ah, so the rumors are true?"

Your producer's voice crackles through your earpiece: "The social media is going absolutely crazy right now. This is better than Drive to Survive!"

Later that evening, a photo appears of you and Max at a hard-to-get-into restaurant in Monaco. He is looking at you instead of the camera, with that soft smile on his face that F1 Twitter has named the "reporter smile." Fan theories start to explode:

"HE REALLY TOOK HER TO DINNER, I'M SCREAMING." "The way he only smiles like that for her.❤️" "Remember when we thought Max would never date someone in the F1 media? This man really said 'Watch me."

Your phone buzzes with a text from Max: "Have you seen we’re trending again?"

You reply with an eye roll, trying to ignore the butterflies that haven't settled since that first interview.

"Good," he responds. "Maybe now everyone knows why I only want interviews with you."

Your producer sends you a message: "Just wait until they see tomorrow's pre-race interview. The internet might actually break."

You smile, thinking about how a simple paddock interview three races ago changed everything. From a reluctant interviewee to whatever this is becoming, Max Verstappen has definitely kept his promise about being persistent.

And honestly? You wouldn't have it any other way.

[thephantomsdream]

Y/N: [watching a video of someone getting dumped at the altar]

Y/N: What the fuck?

Ghost:

Y/N: [the bride accepts getting dumped gracefully, just shedding some tears]

Y/N: Such an elegant, beautiful woman. Nobody deserves this. My heart breaks for her...

Y/N: Couldn't be me

Y/N: The way I'd be swinging so fucking fast—

Ghost: [smiles and nods]

Y/N: [bride keeps crying]

Y/N: No, because I'd immediately jump the fucker, bite his skin off, dislocate his jaw, kick him in the ribs a few times—

Ghost: [stares in heart emoji]

Y/N: Definitely would kick him in the dick too. Oh, and his balls? Would fully castrate him by the time I'm done stepping on them.

Ghost: 'Ere ya go. [hands Y/N a ring]

Y/N: [ignores the ring, keeps ranting]

Y/N: No, for real, he'd vomit his own piss and cum for a month.

Ghost: [gets on one knee]

Ghost: Marry me.

Y/N: To end it all, I'd spit in his mouth.

Ghost: MARRY ME RIGHT FOOKEN NOW—

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

WAG Bootcamp

Part 2

Word count: 767

Pairing: lando Norris x reader, but mostly just Y/n and the WAGs

Summary: Y/n, Lando Norris’ new girlfriend, attends her first F1 race and is swiftly taken under the wing of the WAGs, who teach her the unspoken rules of f1

________________________________________________________

Y/n had been to big events before. Red carpets, premieres, and fashion weeks—she could handle a camera flash like a pro. But standing at the entrance of the paddock for her first-ever Formula 1 race, wearing her McLaren pass around her neck, she felt completely out of her depth.

The world of F1 wasn’t just about fast cars; it was about politics, strategy, and—most terrifyingly—the WAGs.

Lando had kissed her goodbye at the hospitality entrance, promising to see her after FP1, and that was when she was ambushed.

“Alright, rookie,” Kika, Pierre Gasly’s girlfriend, looped an arm through hers, her honey-blonde hair bouncing as she steered Y/n toward a private table in the paddock. “Time for bootcamp.”

“Bootcamp?” Y/n repeated, feeling a bit like a deer in the headlights.

“You think you can just waltz in here and be a proper F1 girlfriend without guidance?” Lily, Alex Albon’s girlfriend, teased, sliding into a seat with a knowing smirk. “No, sweetheart, it doesn’t work like that.”

“You’re lucky,” Alex, Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend, added. “Not everyone gets the full WAG orientation on their first weekend. Usually, we just let them suffer.”

Y/n blinked. “Should I be scared?”

Rebecca, Carlos Sainz’s girlfriend, gave her an encouraging pat on the back. “Yes.”

Lesson One: Pre-Race Preparation

“You need to know how to handle Lando before a race,” Carmen, George Russell’s girlfriend, started, flipping her sunglasses onto her head. “Every driver has their own pre-race routine. If you mess it up, congratulations—you’re the reason he finishes P12.”

“Wait—what?” Y/n’s eyes widened. “That’s a lot of pressure.”

“Not really,” Kelly, Max Verstappen’s girlfriend, said with a shrug. “Just don’t be annoying. Keep the energy calm, don’t talk too much, and if he’s in the zone, let him stay there.”

Kika nodded. “Pierre needs hype. So I tell him he’s the best, kiss him, and send him off like a gladiator into battle. Meanwhile, Lily literally has to trick Alex into thinking racing is just a fun little game so he doesn’t overthink.”

Lily grinned. “I gaslight him into thinking it’s no big deal. Works like a charm.”

“Susie?” Y/n turned to Susie Wolff, the ultimate WAG and wife of Toto Wolff. If anyone knew how to manage an F1 man, it was her.

Susie sipped her espresso like a woman who had seen it all. “Toto is different. He’s not the one in the car, but believe me, he’s more dramatic than any of the drivers.” She sighed. “My advice? Just make sure Lando doesn’t forget to eat.”

“Got it. No messing with his pre-race mood, gaslight if necessary, and make sure he eats,” Y/n recapped. “I can do that.”

Lesson Two: Media Management

“Now, the media,” Alex said, leaning in. “You’re dating Lando. People will analyze everything you do. What you wear, how you look at him, whether or not you smiled when he crossed the finish line.”

“You need to learn the ‘paddock girlfriend’ face,” Kelly instructed. “Not too excited, not too miserable—just engaged enough to look like you care, but also mysterious.”

Lily demonstrated, tilting her head slightly and pressing her lips together in the perfect neutral expression.

Y/n tried to mimic her but ended up looking mildly constipated.

“We’ll work on it,” Carmen assured her.

“And social media,” Rebecca added. “Fans will stalk every post, every like. If you breathe near another driver, they’ll start a conspiracy theory that you’re cheating.”

Y/n groaned. “Oh, fantastic.”

“Just own it,” Kika advised. “If they start a rumor, make it worse. That’s what I do.”

Lesson Three: Surviving the Race

“You are now a part of the emotional rollercoaster that is watching your boyfriend risk his life at 300 km/h,” Susie said with a knowing look. “You will feel stress, anxiety, and possibly rage.”

“If someone crashes into Lando, you are obligated to hate that driver for at least two weeks,” Kelly informed her.

“And you need a coping strategy,” Rebecca added. “I stress-eat.”

“I online shop,” Alex said.

“I start manifesting,” Lily said dramatically.

“I drink,” Kika said, holding up a glass of champagne.

Y/n exhaled. “This sport is insane.”

The women all nodded in agreement.

As the session wrapped up, Y/n felt a new sense of confidence. Maybe she wasn’t fully prepared yet, but she had an elite team of WAGs ready to guide her through the chaos.

Just then, her phone buzzed. A message from Lando: How’s your first F1 day going?

She smiled, typing back: I think I just joined a secret society.

And so, the newest recruit of the WAG Bootcamp was officially initiated.

[ari-ana-bel-la]

baby (like 4) loving the wags cause they’re so girly and since landos a single dad she didn’t have that mother figure in her life, so all the wags love taking care of her during the races and events and stuff

Different kind of mother

It was a bright, sunny day at the racetrack. The buzz of excitement was palpable in the paddock as teams prepared for the race weekend. The air was filled with the hum of engines and the chatter of team members and journalists. Amid all this energy, one figure stood out: Lando, carrying his four-year-old daughter, Yn, in his arms.

Yn was a little bundle of energy, her golden locks bouncing as Lando walked. She was dressed in a cute McLaren dress, matching her father's team colors, and her little sneakers kicked the air as she wriggled in her father’s arms. Yn was very much her father’s daughter. With her sparkling eyes and cheeky smile, she was a reflection of Lando's fun-loving spirit.

Lando was a single dad, and he had done an incredible job of juggling both roles: mom and dad. As much as he loved his little girl, he was also realistic. There were things he just couldn’t teach Yn, things a woman might understand better. So, when it came to race weekends, he was thankful for the support of the WAGs, who loved having Yn with them. They were always so gentle and kind with her, teaching her little things about being a girl that Lando couldn’t offer.

Today was one of those weekends, and Lando was grateful for the women who would take Yn under their wing. As they approached the entrance to the paddock, he saw Kika waiting for them, a smile already on her face.

“Hey, Kika,” Lando greeted, grinning as he walked toward her.

Without saying a word, Kika opened her arms to Yn, her expression full of warmth. Lando hesitated for a moment, but then, with a sigh, he carefully handed Yn over to Kika.

“You’re in good hands,” Lando said, his voice full of trust. He watched as Kika effortlessly cradled Yn, who had no hesitation in cuddling up against the woman.

Kika smiled down at Yn, her affection for the little girl obvious. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you something nice,” she cooed, turning to walk toward the VIP area.

Lando stood there for a moment, watching the two of them walk off. The small pang of anxiety in his chest quickly faded. He knew Yn was safe, happy, and in good hands. It wasn’t easy being a single parent, but he had a village of support around him, and the WAGs were a huge part of that.

The VIP area was buzzing with energy. Rebecca, Carmen, and Lily were there, chatting and laughing. When they saw Kika and Yn approach, their faces lit up.

“Yn! My darling!” Rebecca exclaimed, immediately rushing to hug the little girl. Yn giggled as she was enveloped in Rebecca’s warm embrace.

Carmen was next, scooping Yn up in her arms and giving her a kiss on the cheek. “You’re getting more and more beautiful every time I see you,” Carmen said with a smile.

Lily, ever the practical one, quickly moved to prepare a snack for Yn. “What do you want, sweetheart? Apple slices? Or maybe some cheese?” she asked, kneeling down to Yn’s level.

“I want apple slices, please,” Yn said, her voice soft but clear, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Rebecca smiled as she helped Lily with the snack. “You’re spoiling her, Lily,” she teased.

“Anything for her,” Lily replied, her voice warm.

Meanwhile, Kika had Yn settled on her lap, rubbing the back of the little girl’s head as they chatted. The WAGs all gathered around, sharing stories, and it was clear that Yn was thoroughly enjoying herself. The conversation drifted to a lighter topic as Rebecca leaned in, a playful smile on her lips.

“So, Yn,” Rebecca said, her voice full of curiosity. “Tell us, do you have a crush on anyone?”

Yn’s eyes lit up as she leaned in, eager to share. “There’s a cute boy in my kindergarten group. His name is Lukas,” she said, her voice so serious it made everyone chuckle.

“Lukas?” Carmen repeated. “What’s he like?”

“He’s nice,” Yn said, nodding. “He always shares his crayons with me and lets me sit next to him when we play.”

“Aww, how sweet,” Lily cooed, and the other women joined in the adoration.

“Do you think he likes you, Yn?” Kika asked, smiling down at the little girl.

Yn paused, looking thoughtful. “I think so,” she said slowly. “But I don’t know if I like him like that. I just think he’s nice.”

The WAGs laughed, sharing knowing glances. “She’s already got boys in her life,” Rebecca said, mock-shocked.

“Just wait until she’s older,” Carmen teased. “Lando’s going to be in trouble.”

Yn looked up at them with wide eyes. “I won’t tell Daddy. It’s a secret!” she whispered, giggling.

The WAGs all shared a laugh, and Kika leaned down to plant a kiss on Yn’s forehead. “It’s our little secret, okay?” she said, winking.

The day went on like that. The WAGs doted on Yn, laughing with her, feeding her, and playing little games. At one point, Carmen pulled out a pair of playful sunglasses and slipped them onto Yn’s face.

“Oh my goodness, Yn, you look just like your dad with those on!” Rebecca said, gasping.

The others agreed, laughing at the uncanny resemblance. Lando was known for his goofy sunglasses, and it seemed that Yn had inherited that sense of style.

“You’ve got the same mischievous look, too,” Carmen added, and they all laughed again.

The women quickly snapped a picture of Yn in the sunglasses and sent it to Lando, knowing it would make him smile. They all joked about how much the little girl resembled her father, and Yn grinned proudly, completely unaware of how cute and hilarious she was.

Later, after a busy day full of laughter and fun, it was time for the men to come and collect their girlfriends. Lando arrived, looking for Yn, and the moment he stepped into the VIP area, his eyes immediately landed on his little girl, sitting in Kika’s lap.

Yn spotted her dad and immediately stood up, running toward him. “Daddy!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him.

Lando smiled, bending down to scoop her up. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said, kissing her cheek. “Did you have fun today?”

Yn looked up at him, her face serious. “I can’t tell you,” she said, shaking her head dramatically. “It’s a girls’ secret.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “A girls’ secret? What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, pretending to pout.

The WAGs burst into laughter. “You’re going to have to wait, Lando,” Rebecca teased, smiling at him. “It’s a secret, after all.”

Lando grinned, but he wasn’t about to let it go. “I see how it is. My own daughter, keeping secrets from me. That’s the thanks I get for letting her spend the day with you all?”

“You know we’re just spoiling her,” Carmen said with a grin. “She’s a little star.”

“More like a mini Lando,” Lily added, shaking her head in amusement.

Kika, who had been cuddling Yn all day, seemed reluctant to let the little girl go. She squeezed her tightly one more time before reluctantly letting her down. “I don’t want to let you go, Yn,” Kika said softly.

“I’ll see you soon, Auntie Kiki,” Yn said, her voice full of sweetness, and Kika smiled, giving her a kiss on the forehead.

“Take care of my girl, Lando,” Kika said as she stood up. “She’s a treasure.”

Lando gave Kika a nod, his gratitude clear. “Thanks again, Kika,” he said, his voice full of appreciation.

As they walked out of the VIP area, Yn chattered excitedly, telling her dad about everything she had done, but Lando wasn’t in any rush. He listened to every word, smiling at his little girl who was growing up so fast. Despite everything, Lando knew one thing for sure: Yn was surrounded by love, and that was all that mattered.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-💙🦋

[etclouie]

i love your au’s, could i get another hp fic with footballer!james and "what's wrong? something's eating you up inside, i can tell."

˚୨୧⋆｡ — title; sweet girl (james potter x fem!reader)

˚୨୧⋆｡ — prompt/s; “what’s wrong? somethings eating you up inside, i can tell” — from ”shh, i have a secret” dialogue prompts

˚୨୧⋆｡ — warnings; established relationship, footballer!james x wag!reader, comfort, james calls reader his ‘sweet girl’ but that’s it (372 words)

˚୨୧⋆｡ — a/n; still working through reqs, mb😣😣

— thank you for celebrating with me || submissions are now closed!!

you’d found James after his last game, one that he’d won. he scored the winning goal, but when you found him he was sulking. 

sitting down next to him, you lay your head on his shoulder as you spoke. 

“what’s wrong?”

he hummed, titling his head to press a kiss to the top of your head. 

“nothing—“

he tried to protest but you interrupted, lifting your head to meet his eyes. 

“what’s wrong? somethings eating you up inside, i can tell”

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. all the post game bliss had dissipated and he was left sighing, you lifted your hand to cradle his jaw. 

your thumb soothed across his cheek, his eyes flicking behind you briefly before meeting your eyes. 

“just.. what if i’m not playing good enough?”

he asked with another sigh, and your heart ached at his self doubt. 

you shook your head, continuing to soothe your thumb across his cheek as you whispered back. 

“baby, you’re playing so good. you won tonight, you did that—you scored that goal”

he shrugged, which made you sigh. 

you’d only ever seen James this defeated a couple of times before, but this was next level. 

“yeah but—“

he tried to dismiss himself again, but you stopped him before he could. 

“James, you’re such a good player. i’m proud of you”

another sigh left him, but he nodded this time. 

he leaned in, resting his forehead against yours before he whispered out. 

“i’m sorry”

you pulled back, shaking your head as you whispered back to him. 

“hey you don’t have to be sorry, okay?”

he nodded, leaning in to rest his head on your shoulder. your fingers brushed through his hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head before you whispered again. 

“i love you James, so fucking much, and i’m so fucking proud of you”

you watched him lift his head, your hand cradling his jaw and your thumb soothing across his cheek. 

he smiled softly, tilting his head to press a kiss to your palm before he leaned in to catch your lips in a kiss. after a minute, he pulled back and whispered against your lips. 

“i love you, sweet girl. thank you”

reblogs are highly appreciated !

[angelicblondie]

lmk you guys 😊 (btw both will come out eventually, im just figuring out which to prioritize at this very momet)

[coolgrl111]

bestieeeee i need wag!reader with patrick zweig if you'd wanna make that......

wag!reader is back and better than ever!! patrick version for all my patrick lovers (im patrick lovers)

[all444glo]

black!fem!athletereader x clingy!WAG!Rhyne Howard

I’m talking bout she has a game with the dream at 2:30 and running to your game at 5:30 like no tomorrow.

[afterglowsainz]

hoax | charles leclerc, alexandra saint mleux

pairing: charles leclerc x reader x alexandra saint mleux

summary: your relationship with charles and alexandra is affected when they want you to move to monaco with them but you just can’t leave new york

fc: gianna caldera

request: here

a/n: so similar to we used to have more i have this fic called the prophecy and i’ve been thinking about expanding on that plot idea for a while and then i got the request above and it all just kind of fell into place in my head so i hope you enjoy this mix of my original idea plus the anon request!

—

liked by charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux and others

yourusername my lovely nyc 🩷

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username everything she wears istg i’m omw to buy it

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yourusername 😚

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alexandrasaintmleux when in monaco 🍷

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liked by lilymhe, lissiemackintosh and others

yourusername nights out🍸

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charles_leclerc an evening in cota ❤️

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username CONGRATS CHARLES 🥳🥳

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scuderiaferrari il predestinato 🫶🏽

liked by francisca.cgomes, flavy.barla and others

yourusername favourite place on earth 💚

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username ahhh parents are finally together 🥹🫶🏽

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liked charles_leclerc, jade_distinguinn and others

alexandrasaintmleux i might just stay here🌴🌺

tagged yourusername

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username MOTHERS🫶🏽

charles_leclerc mon dieu 😩

alexandrasaintmleux 😚

liked by f1wags and others

f1gossip ferrari wag y/n y/l/n has unfollowed and deleted all her pictures with couple charles leclerc and alexandra saint mleux leading to the rumor of a breakup. charles and alexandra have not unfollowed her back neither have they deleted posts with her from their social media.

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username don’t even joke lad

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liked by francisca.cgomes, arthur_leclerc and others

yourusername favorite place on earth🩷

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