#now... time for the other william to score

[lundbriniline]

good shrockey night sharks lb tonights photocard is an Actual player card this time!! an eky in honor of his pp goal 💙

[jungwnies]

f1 grid | learning a language

୨ৎ : featuring : all drivers on the grid ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : learning a language for your f1 boyfriend

୨ৎ : word count : 938

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ 10k event | masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : im like a day behind in stories... dw chat im LOCKING IN i think... sideye? this infact mondays post but tuesdays post will be out a little later today T-T

ʚ・red bull

max verstappen

nearly chokes on his water when you say "ik hou van jou" without warning.

pretends he's unimpressed, but secretly changes his phone's language to dutch to test you.

teaches you all the ridiculous dutch racing slang. you repeat it wrong and he laughs like a schoolboy.

corrects your accent with exaggerated seriousness: "it’s not how, it’s hauw — you’re making me sound german."

yuki tsunoda

shocked, then immediately makes you repeat everything so he can rate your pronunciation out of 10.

only teaches you curse words and food names. absolutely no grammar help.

laughs his head off when you accidentally call ramen "grandmother."

says you're his "nihongo no sensei" (japanese teacher) just to mess with you.

ʚ・mercedes

george russell

you thought learning british slang was simple. george decides to mess with you: "say 'peng ting' in front of lewis."

corrects you with a raised eyebrow when you misuse "fit" or "innit."

secretly impressed when you call him "my gee." tries not to smile.

forces you to watch love island as cultural immersion.

kimi antonelli

beams when you greet him with a "ciao amore."

teaches you romantic phrases then turns red when you use them casually.

you mispronounce "macchina" (car) and he goes, "nooo, now you're calling me pasta."

gets competitive: "you learn italian. i learn your language. we race."

ʚ・ferrari

charles leclerc

his face goes bright red when you say something soft in french.

corrects your grammar and pronunciation in the gentlest voice.

you call him "mon coeur" and he nearly drops his espresso.

sends you voice notes saying the same phrase over and over just to "help you practice."

lewis hamilton

loves that you picked it up to bond with the fans, not just him.

talks to you in half-italian, half-english during post-race dinners.

teaches you "grazie mille" and "sei bellissima," then says them to you in front of the team.

buys matching italian textbooks for fun, calls it "date night studying."

ʚ・mclaren

lando norris

immediately regrets you learning british slang when you say "bruv" unironically.

teaches you nonsense like "that's peak," "allow it," and "bare mad."

pretends to cringe every time you say something right. secretly adores it.

forces you to play cod with him and his friends to practice "real london lingo."

oscar piastri

you try to say "arvo" and "no worries," and he just dies.

laughs when you accidentally say something offensive without knowing.

makes you use aussie slang in every conversation: "that sentence didn't have 'mate' in it, try again."

very proud when you use "reckon" correctly. posts it to his story.

ʚ・aston martin

fernando alonso

nods very seriously as you practice, corrects your conjugations with professor energy.

when you say "te quiero," he goes completely silent and blushes.

teaches you how to shout at other drivers in spanish, just in case.

introduces you to his family and makes you speak only spanish all dinner.

lance stroll

you both struggle through duolingo together and compare scores.

gets competitive about streaks. "i’m on day 12, what about you?"

says phrases like "hola papi" and then loses it laughing.

brags about you to fernando: "she speaks better than i do now."

ʚ・williams

alex albon

surprised but deeply touched.

helps you practice but keeps distracting you with kisses.

teaches you sweet pet names in thai and says them back every time.

when you pronounce something wrong, he just hugs you and goes "close enough."

carlos sainz

absolutely melts when you roll your r's right.

you say something simple like "hola mi amor" and he lights up like a christmas tree.

spends whole evenings just having slow convos with you in spanish.

teases you for being "muy guapa y muy lista" (very pretty and very smart).

ʚ・haas

ollie bearman

you call him "my bloke" and he turns the color of a tomato.

laughs hysterically every time you say "oi bruv" like you mean it.

tries to teach you more but ends up wheezing: "that's not even how we use it!"

buys you a tracksuit and says it's "for authenticity."

esteban ocon

thinks it's the most romantic thing ever.

you struggle to say "rendezvous" and he gently corrects you with a kiss.

whispers french phrases in your ear just to fluster you.

leaves sticky notes around the house with words of the day.

ʚ・racing bulls

liam lawson

you try to say "sweet as" and he stops what he's doing to laugh.

pretends to be offended when you mix aussie and kiwi slang: "excuse me, i'm not piastri."

calls you his "missus" in return and grins.

buys you a nz flag for your language streak celebration.

isack hadjar

absolutely charmed the second he hears you try.

says something flirty in french and dares you to figure it out.

makes you speak only french to him for a day. smirks every time you mess up.

shows you off to his friends like, "she speaks french for me. just for me."

ʚ・alpine

pierre gasly

pretends he’s too cool to care but absolutely melts when you call him "mon chéri."

leaves flirty messages in your duolingo inbox.

sends you obscure french memes and makes you decode them.

you say something romantic and he just whispers, "say it again."

franco colapinto

you pronounce his name the spanish way once and he's gone.

corrects your slang like a patient tutor, but teases you mercilessly too.

buys you alfajores as "study fuel."

gets emotional when you say something sweet in his dialect.

ʚ・kick sauber

nico hulkenberg

amused at first, but turns into your grammar coach real fast.

"nein, nein—this is the wrong case. we do not say it like that."

gives you german tongue-twisters and giggles when you fumble.

very proud when you say "ich liebe dich" the right way.

gabriel bortoleto

excitedly helps you with pronunciation, even if he gets distracted.

calls his mom so you can practice together.

when you say "meu amor," he completely melts.

writes you little love notes in portuguese and hides them in your books.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

John Williams - Star Wars - Main Title 1977

Star Wars (later retitled Star Wars: Episode IV – A New Hope) is a 1977 American epic space opera film written and directed by George Lucas. Set "a long time ago" in a fictional galaxy ruled by the tyrannical Galactic Empire, the story follows a group of freedom fighters known as the Rebel Alliance, who aim to destroy the Empire's newest weapon, the Death Star. When the Rebel leader Princess Leia is captured by the Empire, Luke Skywalker acquires stolen architectural plans of the Death Star and sets out to rescue her while learning the ways of a metaphysical power known as "the Force" from the Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.

"Star Wars (Main Title)" is a musical theme composed and conducted by John Williams. The composition draws influence from Erich Wolfgang Korngold's score for the 1942 film Kings Row and Gustav Holst's Jupiter from his orchestral suite, The Planets. The 1977 London Symphony Orchestra recording peaked at number ten on Billboard Hot 100 and number thirteen in Canada RPM Top Singles. Meco's disco version of "Star Wars Theme/Cantina Band" from his album Star Wars and Other Galactic Funk was a global hit in the same year. The soundtrack album itself peaked at number 2 on the Billboard 200 in 1977, and became the best-selling symphonic album of all time; it was certified Gold and Platinum by the Recording Industry Association of America, and won numerous accolades including an Academy Award, a Golden Globe Award, a BAFTA Award, and Grammy Awards in the categories of Best Original Score Written for a Motion Picture or a Television Special and Best Instrumental Composition (for the "Main Title"). In 2004, it was preserved by the Library of Congress into the National Recording Registry, calling it "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant". In 2005, the American Film Institute named the original Star Wars soundtrack as the most memorable score of all time for an American film.

"Star Wars (Main Title)" received a total of 91,8% yes votes! Previous Star Wars-related polls: #209 "Seagulls! (Stop It Now)".

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: happy no shave/no nut november! an anon had asked about this challenge for william and i couldn’t resist. 😇 thanks to the anons that helped out on deciding on the prize! enjoy and get ready for so much more fic fun to come!

word count: 4.8k

tw: so much smut, dirty talk, masturbation (f and m) but not finishing, fingering (f recieving), nipple play, use of toys, creampie, edging, honestly it’s a no nut november fic so it’s just porn without plot (let me know if i missed anything)

summary: between william taking part in no shave november and no nut november, you think you’re going to go crazy. who knew the month could feel so long?

“I hate November.”

Your whine is obnoxious even to your own ears, childish and petulant. You kick a foot out on the mattress for good measure and William laughs.

“Älskling,” he coos, coming over to the bed and wrapping a hand around your ankle. He tugs gently and you slide easily down the mattress towards him. “You didn’t have to agree to the bet.”

“Yes I did,” you grumble, kicking your other foot at him. He catches it easily in his free hand and then suddenly, you’re trapped, both of your legs held in the air before William pulls you forward again and has you wrap your thighs around his hips. His hands are warm on your skin, calloused fingers stroking gentle, lazy circles. You’re fully aware that, with your legs spread like this, he could easily get his hands on your cunt and can probably feel the heat radiating from between your legs.

Your clit gives a painful throb, untouched and desperate for him.

Nearly three weeks without sex and you’ve never been hornier in your entire life.

It hadn’t been bad at first, and then you’d been on your period and the thought of being touched at all was repulsive. But now you’re rapidly hurtling towards ovulation week and it’s nearly impossible to be in the same room as William without wanting to jump him.

William’s keeping his lips zipped, but the second you find out which one of his godforsaken teammates decided a No Nut November bet was a good idea, you’re killing them.

Of course, you’re partially to blame since you’d laughed at William and told him “how hard can it be? To not have sex for a month.” So he’d made a bet with you, challenging you to take part and not come for the whole month and do the challenge with him. You’d agreed, not really deciding on what the winner gets since you’d figured that you would be able to outlast your boyfriend and would just make him do whatever you wanted anyway. Maybe you’ll make him do all the laundry for a month.

What you’d conveniently forgotten was that No Nut November coincided with No Shave November and William’s rocking a moustache that shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does.

“You did this to yourself,” William laughs, torturing you by running his palms up the inside of your thighs and stopping inches from where you need him the most. “You can stop any time.”

He knows you can’t, knows you’re stubborn as hell.

You scowl at him, completely disagreeable with the lack of orgasms. Your whole body feels tight and like a live wire. Any touch might be enough to send you over the edge.

Frustratingly, William doesn’t seem to be as bothered as you are. Sure, he’s been walking around with some aggressive erections, his thick cock prominent against the front of his pants when he’s home with you. But he’s been like a maniac on the ice, racking up goals and assists at a pace that rocketed him to the top of team’s point sheet.

“I don’t know how this isn’t frustrating you,” you mutter, kicking your heel lazily against the top of his ass. You’re satisfied to see the shape of his cock press against his jeans, thickening slowly. “Shouldn’t you be all cranky and blue balled?”

“Trust me, älskling,” William grumbles, “my balls are plenty blue. But I get my frustration out on the ice. If I’m scoring a goal or whatever, I’m not thinking about how fucking horny I am or how badly I want to fuck you into the mattress.”

You let out a little squeak and your legs instinctively try to close, blocked by William’s bulk. He grins wickedly when your thighs flex and you nearly cry when his hand snakes up and his fingers press against your core, plastering the fabric of your panties against your wet cunt. You wiggle, trying to get away from him, but all it does is make your clit pulse and arousal drip more steadily down the seam of your ass.

“Williammmmm,” you whine, kicking at his back and reaching to pull his hand away. Your grip on his wrist falters when his fingers press down harder, a gasp punching from your lungs.

“You’re so wet, huh, my girl?” He murmurs, dick twitching in his pants. His gaze is locked on you, watching as a wet spot forms on the fabric, soaked through your panties and onto your shorts. “If you asked nicely, I could make you come right now. Just a few presses of my fingers against your little clit and you’d feel better.”

It sounds so nice, relief from the achy fire that’s consumed your body for three weeks. Getting rid of the lust fog in your brain too would be helpful. And he’s right, a quick twitch of his fingers against your clit and you’d probably be a goner. But then you’d also be a loser, and you refuse to be a loser.

“No, no, I’m fine,” you manage to choke out, breathless. Your hips move on their own accord and you know you need to get him away from you soon or you’re definitely going to lose.

“You sure?” He laughs, stoking you lightly.

You nod, biting hard on your tongue. William’s lips are curled up in a wicked smile that immediately turns into a frown and a grunt when you shift your leg and angle your knee so you can press the heel of your foot against the hard bulge in his pants. He grunts again when you press down, smiling sweetly at him.

Shoe’s on the other foot now.

“I could take care of that little problem you’re having,” you murmur, getting relief when he finally moves his hand off your cunt to grab your ankle again and pull it away from his dick. He lets you rest the sole of your foot against his stomach and moves his other hand to block access to his dick.

“You know my problem isn’t little,” he retorts, pinching the top of your foot and making your toes twitch against his shirt. “If anything, it’s getting bigger by the day. You’re going to have a massive load to take when this is over.”

You whine and wriggle on the bed, your core clenching desperately around nothing. “Stop, you’re playing dirty,” you complain. “It’s not fair when you do all the dirty talk looking like that.” You wave your hand in the vague direction of his face.

“Oh yeah, ‘cause you walking around in that skimpy ass towel for an hour after you got out of the shower two nights ago was all above board and clean play,” William drawls, rolling his eyes. He doesn’t seem to realize that his hand is working absently over the fly of his pants, his gaze flickering between your legs and back to your face.

“Yeah,” you shoot back, yanking your ankle away from his grip and rolling away from him, “because I’m just a girl and I can’t be held accountable for my actions.”

You get to your feet, still half draped over the mattress, and wince at the uncomfortably wet feeling between your legs. A cold shower and change of clothes will do wonders for your mood.

William rolls his eyes at you, his hand still moving over his cock, and you’re tempted to let him continue so you can win. But one of the dogs barks out in the living room and William turns to the door, hand falling away from his pants.

“Saved by the dogs,” you mutter, grabbing a pair of jeans out of your drawer to change. It’s time for their pre-game walk and you need the fresh air to cool off.

The walk works to tamp down the worst of your arousal and you manage to make it through the game easily enough. Although every time William throws his body against an opponent, you find your face getting warm and your belly flipping. Damn him.

It doesn’t get easier when you’re tucked together in bed after the game, watching TV to unwind instead of your usual post-game routine of fucking until one or both of you passes out. You miss that routine.

“Ah, fuck, stop that,” William grunts, pushing at your hip to put a little space between your ass and his cock. You wiggle, annoyed that he dislodged his half-hard cock from where it was resting in the seam between your ass cheeks.

“I was comfy,” you whine, rolling over onto your stomach. You tilt your head and look at William with wide, pleading eyes and subtly arch your back a little so your ass lifts in the air.

William swats at your ass gently, a bolt of lust shooting right to your clit. “Yeah, too comfy. You’re playing dirty, älskling,” he says with a good-natured smile. The smile twitches his moustache and you sigh, unable to look away from it. All you can imagine is how it would feel between your legs.

You fold your hands under your cheek and lift your leg to drape your thigh over William’s hip. He lets his hand drag up and down your thigh, keeping his touch chaste even as you can see his cock harden in his boxers, tenting and warping the shape of the plaid fabric.

“What if,” you mumble, “we call a draw. We both finish at the same time?”

The perpetual state of horny is starting to make you feel crazy. That coupled with the wave of exhaustion that’s hitting now that it’s the end of the week, you’re ready to jump William and be done with this stupid challenge.

“Say the word,” William’s jaw clicks as he stifles a yawn. It might be insulting that he’s yawning if he hadn’t played a team high time of twenty two minutes on ice and scored two goals. “I’ll make you come in a second.”

“Ugh, no,” you grumble, pressing your face into your pillow. “I want to win fair and square.”

William’s blunt nails scrape against your skin and he drags your thigh higher up on his hip, opening you up to him. “You’re so competitive, älskling,” he mumbles. “‘S what I love about you.”

His words settle warmly in your stomach and you reach a hand out to hook your fingers in the thick chain around his neck, pulling him closer so you can kiss him softly. His moustache scratches at your upper lip and you trace your tongue over his, deepening the kiss even though you know it’s going to drive you both crazy. William’s hand tightens on your thigh, fingers pressing into your skin hard enough to bruise, and you’re both breathless when you break the kiss.

“When you lose, I want my reward to be sitting on your face,” you mutter, huffing a faint laugh out of your nose. William pinches your thigh and you swat at his hand.

“Fuckin’ tease,” he says, tone full of frustrated affection. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead and drags you closer, wrapping his arms around your back to keep you in place. You won’t fall asleep like this, but it’s always nice to be tucked up close to William, with his heartbeat thumping steadily under your cheek and his fingers tracing nonsense patterns on your skin.

William’s gone early the next morning, with a kiss to your lips and a light spank to your ass, off on a road trip that’ll keep him away from you for nearly a week. He’ll be home again on the twenty-sixth, with just four days left in the month. The temptation is mostly gone with him, your libido getting a reprieve when you aren’t able to look at his face every day and imagine it between your thighs.

He does his best to tempt you, sending voice memos and photos that have your hands drifting below the waist band of your pajama bottoms when you’re in bed, like a horny teenage boy desperate to jack off. You honestly hadn’t realize that you could even be this horny, your previous boyfriends never inspiring this kind of lust or arousal.

Of course, you give just as good as you get, replying to his messages with pictures of your own featuring new lingerie sets in the royal blue of the Leafs’ jersey. You’re particularly proud of one picture that gets William calling you immediately to complain about playing dirty. You can hear the schlicking sound of his hand choking his cock through the phone and you click your tongue.

“I hope you’re not going to come before the end of the month,” you sing-song. “I thought you had better willpower than that?”

“Älskling,” he groans, a strangled noise, “I’m just about ready to end this shit and fuck you until you scream. My dick is so fucking hard, it’s goddamn painful.”

“Forfeit and I’ll take care of you when you get home tomorrow,” you offer, stomach flipping when you hear his hand’s continued movement. William grunts directly in your ear and the noise shoots straight to your clit, making it swell and throb.

His familiar chuckle draws you back to the conversation, “no way. There’s only five days left in the month. I’m not quitting now, I’ll just take another cold as fuck shower.”

You grumble, annoyed that he refuses to forfeit and impressed by his willpower. November thirtieth is going to be a night for the books.

It’s a bad idea, you know, tempting fate and all that with William expected home in a few hours. If he catches you, if you go slightly too far, you’ll lose the challenge and William will know that you were too horny for your better angels to prevail.

But you miss the feeling of his cock wedged tight in your cunt, filling and stretching you to your limits.

Besides, knowing that it’s risky and you have to keep yourself just at the edge of the orgasm is making your heart beat fast in your chest and your cunt get slick.

You’re comfortable on the bed in nothing but one of William’s t-shirts, the faint remnants of his cologne infused in the fabric. With one leg bent and your foot planted on the mattress, you circle your clit with two fingers, relaxing back against the pillows. It’s light pressure, but enough to get the bundle of nerves swollen and wet. Arousal drips from your entrance and you know there’s going to be a puddle under your ass even if you don’t finish, but you spread your legs a little more and cool air hits your flushed skin.

All of your nerve endings are on fire and you haven’t even started with your toy. It’s shorter and narrower than William, but it’ll do the job in a pinch. When he’s away, you use it more often, no reason to use it when you have the real thing. But you’re at the end of your rope and need the feeling of something filling you, even if it’s just silicone.

It’s just a little plastic cockwarming, you rationalize. You’re not actually going to come, just edge yourself into insanity since you’re already half feral with arousal.

The first press of the toy against your entrance takes your breath away and you work your hips a little frantically over the silicone, soaked and panting with each little push. Your clit twitches and throbs, walls fluttering around the toy as you settle it in place with a final nudge.

“Fuck,” you whine, breathless and trying not to clench around the length of silicone. You close your eyes and focus on your breathing, imagining it’s William’s hot, throbbing cock nestled inside of you, imagining that you’re keeping him warm in a reward for your delayed orgasm. Just the feeling of being stretched out is better than you thought it would be, after so long with nothing to satisfy you.

You whine his name involuntarily, carefully fucking yourself with the toy to make sure you don’t get too close to the edge. Your stomach muscles clench and your fingers brush against your clit, sending shockwaves of electricity throughout your body. When it’s too much, you stop, leaving the toy half in your cunt, arousal dripping down the curve of your ass.

The sound of your heavy breathing is filling the room and you’ve got an arm thrown over your face, heat radiating off your body. Your hair feels damp from sweat and you haven’t even gotten to come. It was a mistake, to edge yourself so much because now you’re feeling even more twitchy, frustrated with the pit of your stomach in knots from holding yourself back.

Your legs feel limp, too heavy to get up and you close your eyes. There’s still a couple of hours before William is home and you need to bring yourself back to a baseline so you focus on your breathing, twitching around the silicone half buried in your cunt.

A warm chuckle rouses you, working its way through the fog of sleep cloaking your brain. You hum and stretch, dislodging the toy from between your legs slightly, a spark of electricity racing through your veins.

“William?” You mumble sleepily, cracking one eye open.

The shape of him is fuzzy around the edges, but you catch the upturn in his cheeks that means he’s smiling at you and the way his arms are crossed over his bare chest. You blink again and he comes more into focus, the grey sweats hanging low and loose on his hips, the hair on his chest fluffed in the way you know means he ran his hands over it roughly after his shower.

“Sleeping Beauty’s been naughty, huh?” He chuckles and you wrinkle your nose at him, still half asleep until he leans one knee on the mattress and reaches his hand out to nudge his knuckles against the base of the silicone dick that’s half buried in your cunt.

You’d nearly forgotten about it and yelp when it shifts an inch or two further inside of you and try to snap your legs shut. William’s reflexes are faster and his other hand grabs at your knee, holding your legs wide open. His grin is positively filthy as he takes in the mess between your legs.

“I didn’t come,” you inform him primly, fisting one hand in the duvet cover.

“Oh yeah?” William clicks his tongue. “Just sat here like a good girl and edged yourself?”

It’s clear from his tone that he doesn’t believe you and really, why should he? Especially when you have the evidence between your legs and drying smears of arousal on your inner thighs.

“Mhm,” you hum, wriggling away. William’s grip is tight on you, his fingers dancing around the base of the toy, twisting it ever so slightly. You hiccup a gasp.

“Seems like a silly way to lose the bet,” his voice is low, raspy. Deft fingers continue to twist the toy inside of you, making your clit swell and your stomach clench. “Coming on a plastic cock instead of mine. But, if that’s how you want to lose…”

He trails off and pushes the remaining few inches inside of you, punching a gasp from your lungs and making your back arch off the bed. You shout and scratch at his forearms, shaking your head. “No, no,” you murmur. “Wan’ your cock, William!”

It’s torture, the way he slowly fucks the toy in and out of you, your walls clenching and arousal dripping down the curve of your ass. Your breathing is heavy, chest rising and falling as you get closer and closer to the edge. William murmurs filth to you, leaning over your body. His cock is thick and hard behind his sweats, and you can feel it twitch where it’s pressed against your thigh.

“Beautiful, my beautiful, dirty girl,” he coos, using his free hand to push the fabric of your stolen shirt up your stomach until it’s bunched up under your chin and your breasts are free for him to play with. He leans down and alternates sucking each nipple into his mouth, his moustache scraping against your skin and his tongue circling each nipple until they’re tight and painful.

“Please,” you whimper, bending your leg and opening yourself wider for him. “I’m done, I quit.”

You can’t stand it any more, the lack of orgasms is making you crazy. It’s not worth winning. Not with William’s dirty mouth running in your ear and his cock hard against your thigh.

“Mutual,” he grumbles, shoving his sweats down with one hand and you gasp, nearly relieved, when you feel the velvety soft skin of his shaft against your thigh. The wet head of his cock slicks against your hip and you arch into him. “Stupid challenge anyway.”

In one quick motion, William yanks the silicone toy from your cunt and replaces it with his cock, your indignant whine morphing quickly into a wanton moan. He fills you to the brim, balls slapping against your ass and clit rubbing against the coarse hair at the base of his dick.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, lifting your knees to his sides and meeting him thrust for thrust. It’s not going to take long for either of you to come like this, spiky hot pleasure already building low in your stomach.

“Fuck, fuck I love this pussy,” William growls, burying his face in the valley between your breasts. The scrape of his moustache and stubble are going to leave makes all over your skin, but you can’t wait. “So goddamn tight and wet, squeezing my cock. Fuck, älskling, so fucking good. Gonna fill you up, gonna make you feel so good.”

You’re not even sure if you’re saying actual words around the noises you’re making as the head of William’s cock batters your g-spot, thickening and swelling inside the tight grip of your cunt. You wail when he presses his thumb against your sore, swollen clit and kick a foot against his back, making him grunt.

He latches his lips around one of your nipples, tonguing at it until it’s stiff and puffy. You arch your back, pressing up into his mouth and the coil of pleasure tightens in your stomach.

“Please, please, oh my god, please William,” you chant, scratching at his back and moaning when his hand splays over your stomach and presses down, the pressure making you see stars behind your eyelids.

“Gonna come, älskling, almost there,” he mumbles, adjusting his angle to hit even deeper inside of you. “Gonna come together, yeah? Me and you, right now, go ahead. Come on, prinsessa, come all over my cock.”

William rubs circles around your clit and you can feel his cock twitch and thicken, bumping up against your g-spot to finally send you over the edge. Your stomach clenches and starbursts dance behind your eyes as the force of your orgasm hits. Above you, William groans and his hips stutter, coming at the same time you do. He fills you, his hips pumping and his fingers working at your clit so you’re both shaking and panting heavily. Beads of sweat roll down his temples and you can feel the sheen of sweat all over your skin.

Your legs tremble with the aftershocks of your orgasm and William finally finishes emptying inside of you, more than he ever has before and putting your IUD to work.

He collapses on top of you, forcing the last little bit of air left in your lungs out in a harsh exhale. You huff a laugh, running your fingertips over the sweaty, muscled planes of his back, enjoying it when he laughs as you tickle at the spaces between his ribs.

Your legs are locked around his back, his cock still hard inside of you and you rock slightly under him, fully relishing in the feeling. His chest hair is soft against your skin and you try to shimmy around so you can keep feeling it rub against you.

“We’re never going this long without sex again,” William mutters into the crook of your neck. His cock twitches inside of you and he flexes his hips. You can feel the warmth of his come when it’s pushed out of you, making you shiver a bit.

“Stupid challenge,” you agree. The fabric of your shirt is still bunched up under your neck and it’s choking you a bit, but you’re too sated to move. William works his hand between your bodies and toys with your breast, scraping his thumb nail over the sensitive point of your nipple. You clench around him and he grunts. Your clit still feels swollen and sore and need builds up low in your stomach. “I need another, Will.”

His mouth is lazily sucking a mark against your collarbone and he releases you with a wet pop. Propping himself up on one elbow, William grins down at you with a hungry look in his eyes. His hair is messy and damp with sweat. “We need to make up for lost time,” he replies, sweeping his hand up and down your stomach, brushing his fingers close to your clit to see if he can get your hips to jerk. A twitch of his hips has his half-hard cock slipping in and out of your slick cunt, an almost obscenely wet sound filling the room.

You nod, taking your fingers through his chest hair and down through the trail below his belly button. His stomach muscles jump under your touch.

“I think we can be conservative and say I need at least twenty more,” you grin, clenching around him to watch his face twist up in an expression of pleasure. “When you take into account the travel days and whatnot.”

His laughter is bright and loud and he tweaks your nipple. “Greedy,” he murmurs. “Let’s start with three and see if we can beat that record first.”

You let your legs fall to the side and open yourself up for him. Grinning wickedly, you reply, “do your best, Mr. Nylander.”

An hour and a half later, after you’ve gotten two more orgasms and William washed your hair for you in the shower, you’re curled up against his chest with an icy blue Gatorade poured into your fancy Anthropologie glass.

Your legs are shaky, but you’ve never been more content in your life.

“I would say I’m sorry that you lost the team’s challenge, but,” you shrug, sipping at the drink, “I’m really not.”

“Eh, worth it,” William replies. “Only a couple guys left anyway. Hell, even Kniesy lost back in week two and he’s the idiot that suggested it.”

You gasp, shooting up in the bed and nearly spilling your Gatorade. “I’ve been in the orgasm desert because of Matt and he didn’t even have the decency to WIN the challenge?”

William laughs and shrugs. “Yeah, he kind of sucked at it,” he replies, tugging you back against his side, “I think it’s just Mitchy, Domes, Tanev, and Woller left.”

“Wait,” you frown. “What was the prize for winning?”

“We each kicked in one-fifty,” William rolls his up to the ceiling and squints while he does the math. “So, three k? Plus winner gets a steak dinner from Reavo since he was the first to cave and we all have to kick in for the winner’s golf club membership for a year.”

“Jesus,” you roll your eyes. “What is it with you guys and the steak dinners? And if I had known that these were the prizes, I would’ve held out another four days! I thought it was just like a pride thing.”

William laughs again and you let him pull you onto his lap, settling right over his cock. “Älskling, none of us would do this shit if it were just pride on the line,” he says seriously, resting his hands on your hips and letting his fingers dip below the waistband of your sweats.

You roll your eyes again and pout, “obviously cold hard cash, steak, and a golf membership were the only three things that could get you idiots to keep it in your pants.”

“None of those things are holding me back now,” William teases, leaning in to pepper kisses against your jaw. “Want me to take it out of my pants?”

The scratch of his facial hair feels good against your skin and you know you’re going to be beyond marked up tomorrow, but you angle your head to the side anyway to give him better access.

You hum, taking stock of the pleasant soreness between your legs and the flicker of arousal pooling low in your stomach. He kisses down the column of your neck, nipping gently at the jut of your collarbone. William’s hips rock under you and you can feel him grow hard and press into your core.

“I think I could go for a fourth,” you grin, gasping when he trusts his hips up into yours.

“Steak dinner is overrated anyway,” William replies, before taking your cup and putting it on the bedside table so he can manhandle you onto your back. “I’ve got something better to eat.”

[belli5]

⌗ . ᵎᵎ ⸝⸝ So Close, Yet So Far Away .ᐟ ೀ W.S²

After all the time you spent missing Will, feeling guilty leading on someone else, when your heart isn’t there fully, can a simple message from Will can change everything?

˚₊· ᥫ᭡ Will Smith x fem!reader ➜ Angst, Fluff at the end(?). Note: didn’t know how to end this really, so kept it short and sweet. 🥰 masterlist. ➜Part one:Hoping I’ll find a glimpse of us. ➜Part three:let me love you

Your friend had the idea.

“Come on, it’s been ages. And besides, you said you missed watching hockey live.”

You hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip like the motion might hide the sudden ache crawling up your throat. The Sharks were playing the Hurricanes—a big game.

And Will would be on the ice.

Still, you agreed. Because some part of you wanted to suffer. Because you were tired of pretending his name didn’t still rattle around your ribcage like a ghost trying to find a way out.

You didn’t have to wear his jersey. You made sure of that.

Instead, you pulled on a plain teal Sharks jersey, the back left intentionally blank. No number. No name. You couldn’t stomach the weight of it. You didn’t want to be noticed. And just to make yourself feel more like a new person, someone entirely different from the version of you who used to scream Will’s name from the stands, you tied a black SJ Sharks scarf around your hips, knotting it right where the button of your jeans was.

The game was electric. The tank rumbled with noise—fans banging on the glass, people waving signs, old couples clapping politely in coordinated Sharks beanies. The lights hit the ice just right. The cold air curled into your lungs like a familiar friend.

Will skated out second in the line up.

God, he looked.. taller. Stronger. His face was locked in that same pre-game focus you’d seen a hundred times before, that quiet storm expression that made your stomach twist back then. Your heart betrayed you—it skipped a beat. Maybe two.

You friend elbowed you lightly, smirking. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied. “Just cold.”

By the second period, the score was 1-1, William Eklund being the one who scored in first period. Will on the other hand played, just as easy to watch as he used to be.

He never looked your way. Not once.

Or maybe he did. A few times he’d glance toward your section after a whistle, his eyes dragging slowly over the crowd like he was trying to find something. Or someone. But it didn’t matter. Because his gaze never stopped on you. Never lingered. And you were wearing that damn blank jersey, anyway. Just a shadow now.

And still, everytime he skated past the glass, your knees went weak.

Every time you heard his name over the intercom, your throat tightened like the syllables were wrapped in barbed wire.

It was during intermission when your friend turned to you again, eyes softening. She’d seen enough. “Y’know,” she said slowly, “you never really told me much about what happened with him.”

You shrugged, eyes glued to the ice as the zamboni did slow laps. “There’s not much to say.”

“Bullshit.” She paused. “I mean.. I didn’t mean to push,” she added gently. “I get it. But I’ve known you a long time, and I’ve never seen you look at someone the way you looked at him. You used to light up just saying his name.”

You wanted to say something back. Something witty. Maybe sarcastic.

Instead, your thoughts wandered to him again. His birthday, what was 3 days ago.

You didn’t text him. You didn’t dare. But that day you barely spoke to anyone. You told your boyfriend you need to catch up with some things.

But the truth was, you spent half the day scrolling through your phone. Digging through the messages, just to hear him laugh again. Just to find one voice message where he said your name. Or told you something dumb. Or whispered goodnight.

You didn’t even know why you still had them. You told yourself you’d delete them tomorrow. Always tomorrow.

Now your friend was looking at you with something that felt close to pity.

“You have a new boyfriend,” she reminded you. “One who treats you really well. Who doesn’t make you cry. Who brings your mom flowers and lets you sleep in his hoodie.”

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

“I know.”

“But?”

You sighed. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep doing this,” you admitted quietly. “With someone who’s perfect.. but not him.”

There it was. The truth. You stomach twisted with guilt, your fingers curling in your lap. “He’s so good to me,” you said, looking down at your lap. “And I feel like a fraud everytime I hold his hand. Like I’m leading him on because I’m still haunted by someone who doesn’t even see me anymore.”

Your friend leaned in closer. “Then why do it?”

“I don’t know,” you said again. “Maybe I keep hoping I’ll stop seeing Will in other people. That if I try hard enough, this new love will overwrite the old one.”

“And has it?”

You looked back down at the black scarf tied around your hips. “No.”

The final score was 3-1, hurricanes had won.

The crowd started thinning, people shuffling toward the exits. Your friend grabbed your hand and tugged you up gently, and you followed her in a daze, your body moving automatically through the warm chaos of post-game chatter and concession stand lines.

But just before you turned the corner out of the section, you glanced back.

Will was by the glass where he’d skate off the ice, and this time he was looking right where you’d been sitting.

Right where you stood now, frozen mid-step, the crowd slipping past you like waves. For a moment, you locked eyes. Or atleast you thought you did.

But then he blinked, ducked his head, and disappeared down the tunnel like you were just another fan. Like the years you spent loving each other were someone else’s story.

The city lights blurred behind the car windows as you and your friend drove in silence, the soft hum of music barely filling the space between you.

Neither of you spoke much after the game. There wasn’t much to say. The Sharks lost. Will played well. And somewhere between the second and third period, your heart had cracked open again like it always did when he was near.

You had hoped this game would be harmless. Just something fun. A distraction. But it wasn’t. How could it be a distraction anyway?

You were still thinking about that final glance he gave. The way he looked right at your section after the buzzer. Like he knew. Like for one second he saw past the crowd and spotted you.

And now you were back in your apartment, flopped on the couch with your legs tucked beneath you, wearing that same jersey and a tired look in your eyes.

Your friend emerged from the kitchen with two mugs of tea, handing one to you before sitting cross-legged on the opposite end of the couch.

“You haven’t said much,” she murmured.”

You shrugged. “Neither have you.”

“I was giving you space.”

“I didn’t ask for space.”

“You never do. That’s the problem.”

You looked up, blinking. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She took a sip from her mug before answering. “It means you’re holding in a category-five emotional hurricane, and eventually it’s gonna tear someone else apart.”

You looked at you hands, suddenly unsure how to respond.

She waited a beat, then added softly. “It’s going to be Luca.”

That stung.

“I don’t mean that in a cruel way,” she said quickly. “I like him. He’s sweet. He’s stable. And he clearly like you—a lot.”

You nodded, fingers tightening around the mug.

“But if you don’t feel the same,” she continued gently, “be deserves to know.”

“I do like him,” you said. “I just..” you trailed off. The sentence hung there.

She tilted her head. “But you don’t love him.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to. Your friend sighed, setting her tea down. “Look. I get it. You’re trying to move on. To do the healthy thing. But pretending with Luca is hurting you both.”

“I’m not pretending,” you mumbled, though even you weren’t convinced.

She looked at you sadly. “Y/n.. you wore a nameless Sharks jersey to avoid being obvious, but you still tied that scarf around you hips the same way you used to when he liked it. You still sat low in your seat, but leaned just enough for him to see you. And when he looked up after the game? You froze like your lungs had forgotten how to work.”

Your chest ached. The truth has never been gentle. “I’m trying,” you whispered. “I’m trying to let go of Will. But it’s like.. even when I don’t say his name, he’s still everywhere. In the stupid way I butter toast or the song that played in the car or the way Luca holds my hand, and all I can think is: Will did that too.”

Tears brimmed in your eyes before you could stop them.

Your friends voice softened. “I know. But if Will is still the person you’re comparing everyone to, then you’re not ready to be with someone else.”

A long silence passed. Finally, you asked, “What am I supposed to do? Break Lucas heart?”

“No,” she said. “You’re supposed to be honest. That’s the only way to stop dragging it out. If you keep faking it, trying to force something that isn’t real, then you’ll break his heart.”

You stared at the floor. “I don’t want to hurt him,” you said.

“I know.”

“But I also don’t want to stay just because I’m afraid to be alone again.” Your voice cracked as you admitted, the weight of everything finally catching up to you. Your friend scooted closer, placing a hand over yours.

“Then don’t,” she said. “Be brave. Say what you need to say. Because the longer you wait, the worse it’ll be. For him. For you. For everyone.”

You nodded slowly, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I feel like such a bad person.”

“You’re not,” she said immediately. “You’re just heartbroken.”

That night, after your friend left and the apartment had gone quiet, you stood in front of the bathroom mirror.

The jersey was wrinkled now. Your hair was a mess. Your eyes puffy. You looked like someone who still loved a boy who wasn’t hers. And maybe that’s exactly who you were.

Your phone buzzed on the counter.

Luca 😚 Hope you had fun at the game. Call me when you’re home safe?

You stared at the message, fingers trembling. You didn’t reply right away. But when you did, you sent a simple message.

Me Hey. I’m home. Can you come over? I need to talk.

You didn’t say more. Didn’t try to soften it with a heart or a “miss you” you just hit send, then tossed your phone onto the bed and sat quietly in the low glow of your lamp.

Your apartment felt too quiet. Too still.

Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock at your door. You opened it to find Luca standing there in a hoodie and joggers. “Hey,” he said, stepping in.

“Hi.”

You shut the door behind him, the silence between you already too heavy. He sat in the couch, not leaning in for a hug or a kiss, just.. waiting. Like he already knew something was coming.

You sat beside him, not too close, hands clasped tightly in your lap. For a while, neither of you spoke. Finally, you said quietly, “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course.”

“I..” you paused, trying to gather the words that wouldn’t destroy him. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while. And I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure.”

He nodded, eyes fixed on the floor.

“I care about you,” you said. “you’re kind, and patient, and everything I told myself I needed. But I don’t think it’s fair to keep being with you when.. when my hearts not fully here.”

His jaw tensed slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I thought I could grow into this,” you continued. “That if I just gave it time, the feelings would catch up. But they haven’t. And today, at the game.. I realised I can’t keep lying to myself.”

You didn’t say Will’s name. You didn’t have to.

Luca let out a soft breath, still looking down. “I figured.”

You blinked. “You did?”

“I mean,” he gave a faint, bitter smile. “You went to your ex’s game.” You stayed quiet. “I told myself it didn’t matter,” he went on. “that it was just hockey, just a night out with your friend. But the second I saw the story you posted, the jersey. And the scarf.. I knew.”

Your mouth felt dry. “I didn’t wear his jersey—”

“I know,” he cut in gently. “But you didn’t need to to. You wore something he’d recognise. Something he’d notice. And I guess that’s when I realised.. maybe part of you was still hoping he would.”

You closed your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“I know.” Another silence stretched between you. Luca finally looked up. “Did you talk to him?”

“No,” you shook your head. “He looked. Just once. “I don’t even know if he saw me.”

Luca studied your face, like he was trying to figure out whether that hurt you more than it should. And It did. But you didn’t say that out loud.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you said. “You don’t deserve this.”

“No, I don’t,” he replied softly. “But I think I knew from the beginning that part of you wasn’t ready. I just hoped.. maybe if I was good enough, patient enough, you’d get there.”

“I wanted to,” you said honestly. “I really, really did.”

“But you didn’t.”

You shook your head. “No.”

Luca leaned back on the couch, exhaling through his nose. “You know the worst part?” He murmured. “You never even talked about him. Never said how you ended. But he was always there..”

You stared at your hands.

“I don’t blame you,” he added. “I mean, how could anyone walk away from a love that big without scars?”

That made the tears rise fast. You blinked them back.

“I just..” He turned to face you. “I wish I wasn’t the one you used to figure that out. And I guess you were never really mine, it was just my turn..”

You reached out instinctively, but he didn’t take your hand. Not out of cruelty—just because it was over. And you both knew it.

“I’ll give you space,” he said rising to his feet. “I’ll come by for my stuff another time.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

He lingered by the door for a second. “I hope he was worth it,” he said softly. “Or at least.. I hope you find peace, with or without him.”

You swallowed. “Thank you. For everything.”

He didn’t answer. He just left. The door closed behind him with a quiet finality that echoed through the apartment, leaving you sitting there on the couch—wrapped in the kind of silence that only comes when something real ends.

You didn’t move for a long time. And when you finally did, it was to curl up in bed, face buried in your pillow, tears soaking the fabric.

Few days went past. The world kept moving. Even if yours hadn’t. Outside your window, it was raining—soft and steady, the kind of gray that blurred everything.

You stayed curled up under a blanket on the couch, eyes fixed on the television that you weren’t really watching. Your phone sat untouched beside you, screen dark.

You hadn’t told anyone yet. Not even your closest friends. You needed just a few days—few days to breathe, or cry, or not feel anything at all.

But then, your phone buzzed. You didn’t expect the name. You didn’t expect him.

Smitty 🩷 Hey.

You stared at the screen for a long moment, unsure whether you were dreaming. Whether this was your brain making something up just to feel something again.

You unlocked your phone with shaky fingers.

Smitty 🩷 I had the weirdest dream.

That was it. Just that one sentence—open, unfinished, and impossibly him. You hesitated. Then you typed back.

Me What kind of dream?

Three dots. Then a pause. Then they disappeared. Then came the message.

Smitty 🩷 That we were still together. That you weren’t gone.

Your breath caught in your throat. The blanket suddenly felt too heavy.

Smitty 🩷 We were at the beach you used to love. The one with the rocks and the ice cream truck that always played the same song.

You closed your eyes, and you could almost smell the salt in the air. Almost feel the weight of his hoodie draped over your shoulders.

Smitty 🩷 I swear it felt real

You didn’t know what to say. The words stayed stuck somewhere deep in your chest, choking you quietly.

Smitty 🩷 You’re still mine, aren’t you?

Your lungs forgot how to breathe. Your heart ached—the worst kind of ache, the kind that remembered every version oh him: the messy hair in the mornings, the way his voice dropped when he whispered your name, the laugh that came from his chest when you wore his jersey and pretended to know hockey stats better than him.

For a second, just a second, you wanted to type yes.

Because the words felt real. Too raw. Like the world had paused and spun backward—just to let you step into that dream for one more second.

Just to let you be his again.

But you blinked, and reality crashed back in.

Lucas voice rang faintly in your memory. “He was always there.”

The pain you left behind. The guilt still clinging to your ribs. The truth. You stared at the screen. But you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t say yes. You didn’t say no.

Your mom had always told you sometimes, silence is the only answer you have left. But not this time. Not when it was him. Not when it was that message.

You say there for what felt like hours—when in reality it was just a few minutes—your pulse loud in your ears. You’d imagined a thousand ways he might reach out. A late night “hey”, a picture from a memory, but never this.

Never you’re still mine, aren’t you?

You chest ached. Not from pain, not anymore. From want. From the almost.

The screen lit up. His name still stared back at you. He was still waiting. And suddenly, all of your pretending cracked open.

Me You’re really gonna drop that on me like that?

You stared at it. Hovered over the send button. The tapped it.

Delivered. Immediately, those little dots appeared.

Smitty 🩷 I don’t know what I expected. But I had to say it.

Me Why now?

Another pause. Longer this time.

Smitty 🩷 Because you were in the crowd that night.

You sat up straighter. You didn’t think he saw you. You thought you’d imagined that moment—the way his eyes scanned the stands, the split second you swore they met yours. You’d told yourself it was wishful thinking. Nothing more.

Smitty 🩷 I don’t know why I looked. But I just knew you were there.

You bit your lip. Everything inside you swirled—the storm, the guilt, the want. You remembered what Luca had said. The way he looked at you when he left. “You were never really mine, it was just my turn..”

And maybe he wasn’t wrong. Because right now, texting Will, it felt like breathing again after being underwater for too long.

Me I dreamed about you too.

Even the night before your birthday

But it was never weird..

He didn’t reply immediately.

Smitty 🩷 I kept looking at my phone that whole day.

Me I wanted to text you. I really did.

Smitty 🩷 Why didn’t you?

You hesitated.

Me Because it still hurts

No reply. Not for a minute. Not for two.

Smitty 🩷 Me too

It was quiet again. No questions. No begging. Just that quiet little confession, tucked into the glow of your screen like it still meant something.

And even though you were still on opposite sides of whatever this was now—heartbreak, healing, hope—it was enough.

Just to hear his voice in your head again. Just to know he still dreamed of you. You didn’t know if this would fix anything. But for the first time in a long time, your chest didn’t feel so heavy. Because he wrote first. And you answered.

Your phone buzzed again later that night. You were still curled up on the couch, half-watching the end of some movie you’d seen a hundred times, when his name lit up your screen.

Smitty 🩷 Let me take you out to dinner.

Just like that. Like he hadn’t cracked your entire chest open a few hours ago. Like he hadn’t been silent for months. Like he hadn’t let you go without a fight.

You stared at the words. You read them once. Twice. A third time. You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you sat up, the blanket falling off your shoulders as the weight of his message settled over you.

Dinner. It was everything you used to hope for.

The time your birthday went past and he didn’t text. Everytime you drove past a rink and thought of his laugh echoing through the concrete tunnels.

You used to dream of this. Of him showing up. Of him trying.

Your thumb hovered over the keyboard. Then you typed.

Me Why now, Will?

The dots popped up immediately.

Smitty 🩷 Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you after the game. Because when I saw you in the crowd, it hit me how long it’s been. How far away you feel. And how badly I want to fix that.

You blinked hard. Your throat tightened. It was everything you wanted to hear.

Me You could’ve tried to fix things before.

You didn’t mean for it to sound bitter, but it did. You weren’t sorry.

Smitty 🩷 I know.

I thought I was doing the right thing by letting you go.

But I was wrong.

You swallowed. You remembered every night you cried into your pillow, wondering if he even missed you. You remembered dating Luca and feeling like a fraud every time you reached for someone who wasn’t Will. You remembered telling yourself to let go—and never quite managing it.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry. You wanted to go.

Me When?

Smitty 🩷 This Saturday? Somewhere quiet. Just us.

You could still say no. You could still protect yourself. But you didn’t. Because later you would regret it, if you said no.

Me Sure.

[astonmartinii]

you and me got a whole lotta history | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x historian!reader

y/n is a historian and it’s not her fault her bf’s job takes him all around the world…

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and 102,561 others

location: melbourne 📍

yourusername: so it’s the australian grand prix and i’ve spent the start of the week exploring this old city. one of my stops was the historic old melbourne gaol. this now museum was once a prison that housed some of the most feared criminals in australian history. constructed in 1839, the old melbourne gaol saw 133 hanged for their crimes between 1845 and 1924. it was briefly used during world war two but ceased operation as a prison in 1924 and was renovated to be part of the RMIT university and the museum it is today. a definite must if you’re visiting melbourne !!

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user1: my fave part of the race week is y/n’s museum recommendations tbf

user2: i can vision charles being dragged around this place hating his life

charles_leclerc: the things we do for love

yourusername: you said you enjoyed it :(

charles_leclerc: I DID

user2: oops

yourusername: i’ll leave you at the hotel next time

charles_leclerc: it was scary but i enjoyed it because i was with you

yourusername: okay that’s better

danielricciardo: so my farm isn’t good enough for you

yourusername: noooooo danny i thought we were going after the race?

danielricciardo: oof my bad

user3: petition for there to be a teds notebook but it’s y/n giving us a historical guide to the city the race is in

f1: we’re listening @skysportsf1

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, scuderica ferrari and 788,341 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: tough race in melbourne but a beautiful city regardless

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user4: HE served, we don’t talk about the race

yourusername: i don’t mean to say i told you so but i did say our day trip would be the best part

user5: girl you’re gonna get banned from the ferrari garage

yourusername: they deserve far worse than what i’m saying let’s be real

user5: true

user6: i love how charles didn’t reply ferrari has his ass ON LOCK

carlossainz55: we'll come back stronger

danielricciardo: we can all commiserate at my farm bro

charles_leclerc: your farm better be as good as you're saying now

danielricciardo: nervously awaiting the y/n review

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 104,561 others

location: miami 📍

yourusername: though miami may be known for it's partying (it's all about the U), charles and i took our monday to take a stroll around st bernard de clairvaux church, one of miami's hidden gems. the church was originally built in spain all the way back in 1141 to the style of cistercian romanesque architecture for alfonso vii. the monastry's cloister was illegally purchased by american william randolph hearst in 1926 and in order for the church to be transported it was dismantled to 11,000 pieces and sent to the us where it was rebuilt and still stands to this day.

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user7: i'm never gonna be able to afford to go to miami so why did i read this whole thing like i'll visit some day?

yourusername: history is important and interesting, always good to read even if you never visit !!

user8: she's like the older sister i never had

user9: did charles enjoy this one more?

yourusername: "at least i'll get a tan here"

charles_leclerc: i feel like anyone who reads about me in your comments will think i'm an asshole, i have fun every time i just don't understand most of it

yourusername: i know you have fun baby (and i love you for driving us to all of these places)

user10: have you considered our super historic frat house this saturday night?

user11: imagine thinking you have a chance when her literal boyf is CHARLES LECLERC

user10: every goal has a goalkeeper doesn't mean you can't score

charles_leclerc: i will run you over

user12: omg ferrari's pr is quaking

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, lancestroll and 112,677 others

yourusername: it is my biggest honour to announce my position as a history lecturer here at oxford!! i always dreamed of studying here and to get to pass on my knowledge to those looking to follow in my footsteps is a huge pleasure and responsibility.

p.s. no worries, it is not full time so race week explorations will continue.

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user13: so it was true :(((((( wait i just read the whole post my bad

user14: so i guess i now need to turn my Cs into As if i wanna attend a y/n lecture

charles_leclerc: unbelievably proud of you my love - don't miss me too much

yourusername: you sure i can't persuade you to move to england with me :(

charles_leclerc: i'll be there as much as i can be but monaco is still our home

yourusername: always

landonorris: proud of you smarty pants

yourusername: thank you landito

landonorris: so you'll now root for the brits?

charles_leclerc: over my dead body

yourusername: what charlie said

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, yourusername and 1,209,778 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: super happy for another win for the season but we keep pushing for the real prize at the end of the season - thank you for your continued support tifosi and my love y/n who stayed up all the way in oxford ❤️

view all comments

user20: i don't wanna jinx it but like the season is going well

user21: too well....

yourusername: winning looks good on you

charles_leclerc: you look better on me

pierregasly: oh god you've been apart for a triple header and now you're being horny on main

yourusername: says mr. doggy emoji

pierregasly: touche

user22: so charles can mathematically win in either austin or brazil FUCK THEM KIDS I NEED Y/N AT THESE RACES

user23: if she's not there for charles wdc i am personally going to have a sleepover on the train tracks

yourusername added to their story

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and 503,786 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: the autodromo jose carlos pace is the crown jewel of the interlagos neighbourhood. the circuit opened 83 years ago and has hosted the f1 since 1972. the circuit was originally meant to be a housing area but due to the 1929 stock market crash the owners decided to construct a racing track instead. interlagos is often a season decider with fernando alonso winning both his 2005 and 2006 titles here, kimi raikkonen winning the 2007 championship here, lewis hamilton won the 2008 championship here, jenson button clinched the 2009 title here and CHARLES LECLERC WON HIS FIRST TITLE HERE IN INTERLAGOS FOR THE 2023 SEASON

on a real note i am so proud of you charles, i have seen the sacrifices you have made and the unbelievable amount of effort you pour into every facet of your racing NO ONE deserves this more than you. i am so grateful to have shared this moment with you, here's to many more xxx

view all comments

user26: i am unwell this is so fucking cute

user27: bro this is so fucking crazy

charles_leclerc: couldn't have done it without you, so glad you could be there for me xx

yourusername: always charlie xx

yourstudent: miss y/n you can cancel all of our lectures if charles wins the championship again FORZA FERRARI

charles_leclerc: the people have spoken

user28: insane butterfly effect of the wall street crash to charles leclerc 2023 wdc

user29: they make me believe in love

note: this was super random but popped into my head while at work and i knew i had to write it !! hope you enjoyed xx

[internetdaddy98]

The Ties That Bind Us - Chapter 19

Previous | Next [Series Masterlist]

Content Warning: medical procedures; mutual pining; jealousy: angst; angst; angst

You walked through the ER doors just before 7 a.m., fully expecting to slip into the usual rhythm.

But something felt off.

You adjusted your badge, trying to shake off the unease curling in your stomach.

Robby stood at the far end of the nurses’ station, scanning a tablet, his brow furrowed in focus. But when he looked up, his gaze found yours instantly. For a heartbeat, neither of you moved.

There it was again—the thing that didn’t exist. You offered a smile, soft, professional, like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t said exactly what you never wanted to admit stung. But before you could walk toward him, you heard your name.

“Dr. Williams,” Gloria’s voice cut through the corridor like a scalpel. You turned, instantly straightening. “Morning,” you greeted her, surprised to see her. “Do you have a moment?” You followed her into the empty consult room, hands slipping into your pockets.

“I’ll be brief,” she began, all business. “We’ve been reviewing performance metrics from the day shift. Gurney times. Patient satisfaction scores. Throughout. And one thing is becoming increasingly clear—whatever you’re doing with Dr. Robby, it’s working.”

There was a pause. Calculated.

“But,” she added, folding her arms, “I have to ask myself: how much of that success is you?”

You blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“Look,” she continued, stepping closer. “You’ve got instincts. You’re sharp, fast on your feet, and the staff trust you. That’s not something we see often in someone still in their fellowship.”

You opened your mouth, unsure what to say, but she didn’t give you the chance.

“I’d like to offer you an Attending position on Day shift. Permanent.”

Your breath caught. For a second, all you could hear was the echo of her words—sharp and sudden, cutting through the haze of the morning.

“I... I thought that wasn’t possible until the fellowship ended.”

“I can make exceptions,” she said smoothly. “We’re restructuring anyway. Leaning into what works. You’ve earned the opportunity.”

There was a flicker of something in her eyes when she said it—an unspoken message embedded beneath the compliment. Something that made your stomach knot.

“And Dr. Robinavitch?” you asked carefully.

She gave a noncommittal smile. “Dr. Robinavitch is very good at what he does. But his methods are... traditional. You, on the other hand, represent something fresher. Progressive. It’s not about replacing anyone—it’s about optimizing what we already have.”

You didn’t buy it. Not entirely.

Still, the words landed, pressing against a part of you that had longed to be seen for something more than potential.

“I’ll need time to think about it.”

“Of course,” she said. “We’ll be finalizing the shift schedule for Q3 by next Friday.”

You nodded numbly. She left with a purposeful stride, heels clicking across tile like punctuation.

You stayed behind a moment longer, staring at the closed door.

Your heart was thudding now—not from the offer, but from what it meant. From what it could cost.

When you stepped back into the hallway, the buzz of the ER surrounded you, but it was muted somehow. Like you were underwater.

Robby had moved closer, standing just past the nurses’ station. His eyes were already on you.

And this time, you didn’t smile. Because you didn’t know how. Because for the first time, it felt like you might be standing on opposite sides of something.

You spent the first few hours of the shift pretending to be fine.

You nodded through consults, smiled with the residents, charted with a kind of manic precision that made your notes look like they were written by someone with caffeine in her bloodstream instead of blood.

But beneath it all, you were rattled.

Gloria’s offer kept looping in your head like a faulty monitor alarm. Permanent. Day shift. Optimization. Not replacing anyone, she’d said. But you weren’t stupid.

And Robby—he was everywhere.

In the trauma bay, tossing you a pair of gloves with a smirk and a quiet, “You ready, hotshot?”

In the lounge, where he held out your favorite snack without comment, like he always did when you forgot to eat.

And every time he was near, your body betrayed you.

Your shoulders would stiffen. Your pulse would kick up a notch. You’d flinch—internally, mostly—each time his arm brushed yours or his eyes lingered for just a second too long.

He noticed something. You knew he did.

But Robby wasn’t the kind of man who pushed. He just... watched. Waited. And that somehow made it worse.

Because now, every look he gave you felt like it came with a question you didn’t know how to answer.

“Hey.”

You turned, startled, and nearly dropped the chart in your hands. Robby stood behind you, brows raised slightly.

“You okay?” he asked, too casual to be just professional.

You forced a smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah. Just, uh—long morning.”

“You’ve been charting like you’re mad at the keyboard,” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting.

You tried to laugh. It came out thin.

There was a beat of silence between you. The kind that used to feel easy.

“Want to split the next trauma?” he asked. “They just paged for a GSW.”

You nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Absolutely.”

Robby lingered for half a second longer, as if he was waiting for you to say something else. But you couldn’t. Not yet. Not with your heart running a marathon and your thoughts tangled in every possible version of what this meant for him... for you.

You followed him down the hall, your footsteps slower than usual, your mind anything but steady.

Later that afternoon, you stood in the supply closet, staring blankly at the gauze shelf while trying to remember why you came in here in the first place.

Your hands were shaking. Just barely. But enough to notice.

You hated feeling like this—off balance, uncertain. You hadn’t felt this way since your intern year, when everything had felt too big, too fast, and all you could do was try not to drown in it.

The worst part was knowing that this—whatever this was—wasn’t about fear.

It was about Robby.

It was the way you had to keep pretending his words hadn’t cut when you overheard them. The way you kept brushing aside the look on his face this morning like it hadn’t shaken you more than you wanted to admit.

And now Gloria’s offer had taken all of that emotion and lit it on fire.

Because for the first time, you weren’t just a fellow trying to prove herself.

You were a threat. To him. To the stability of whatever fragile rhythm the two of you had managed to build.

And the worst part? You didn’t know if you should warn him.

By the time the shift was wrapping up, your nerves had frayed to the point of splintering.

You handed off the last patient to a resident, ducked into the lounge, and took a long sip of your tea like it could somehow center you.

Robby walked in a second later, and ran a hand through his already-messy hair.

“You ever gonna tell me what’s going on with you today?” he asked, voice quiet.

Your throat tightened. “Just tired.”

He didn’t look convinced. But he didn’t press.

Instead, he sat beside you on the couch, close enough that your knees brushed. The quiet between you was heavier now. Charged. Like a storm waiting on the edge of your skin.

You turned your mug in your hands, suddenly feeling everything far too clearly.

“Do you ever feel like things change overnight?” you asked, not looking at him. “Like... you wake up and you’re not sure where you fit anymore?”

His brow furrowed. “What happened?”

You hesitated. “Nothing. Just thinking too much.”

His gaze lingered, but after a moment, he nodded. “For what it’s worth... you still fit.”

The words landed deeper than you expected. And when you looked up at him, you saw something flicker behind his eyes—something soft, unguarded.

It would be so easy to lean into that.

But instead, you stood.

“Have a good night,” you said.

And as you walked away, you knew he was still watching.

And this time, you didn’t know what it meant.

[drysdalesworld]

loving this Eklund family series! Would love to hear about Oskar going to a game!

oskar, papa’s #1 fan!

series masterlist

pairing(s): mom!reader x son!oc x dad!william eklund

genre: fluff

warning(s): usual hockey stuff (fights, penalties, etc.). also, oskar is well spoken for a 3 ½ year old in this blurb, so let’s just ignore that & say he’s just advanced in his speech abilities

note(s): it’s like you’ve read my mind. i was planning on doing something like this & now, here it is! this is also a really long blurb. technically it can count as an imagine, but i didn’t want to transfer everything onto a google doc & then onto here to get a word count lol. ending’s a little shit, but hope you enjoy it!

The early morning skate had been a success for the Eklund boys.

William had managed to convince Ryan Warsofsky, his head coach, to allow Oskar to tag along for the teams morning skate.

The whole team had been excited to have the boy skated up on the ice. Albeit him being so young and tiny, he had pretty good balance on the ice, only falling or tripping over his feet a handful of times.

Macklin Celebrini and Will Smith had taken it upon themselves to entertain the young Eklund boy during practice. They played tag with him during water breaks, pretending to trip over their feet so the three-and-a-half year old could tag them. They passed pucks between his legs and practiced their stick handling skills, making the little boy giggle as he chased the rubber pucks. Macklin even held Oskar in his arms at one point, the child sideways as the teenager skated, the two making casual conversation.

Oskar had a blast to say the least.

When the two had arrived home an hour after you woke up, the child began talking about how much fun he had and how he couldn’t wait to do it again (mostly gushing about the two teenagers who played with him the entire practice). He promptly passed out on the couch after he ate his second breakfast of the day. William had joined his son not too long afterwards, both Eklund boys asleep on opposite ends of the furniture.

William had quietly left the house after he woke from his nap a couple of hours before he needed to be at the rink again. He placed a gentle kiss on the crown of Oskar’s head before softly kissing your lips, a silent goodbye to the both of you so as to not wake up the sleeping boy.

Getting Oskar ready wasn’t as much as a hassle as it usually is. He didn’t fuss or pout as you got him dressed and ready, proudly wearing his custom jersey.

“Ready to see Papa play?” You asked, holding his much smaller hand in yours as you both walked into the bustling arena, Felicia Wennberg trailing behind the two of you with her own children.

“Yeah!” Oskar exclaimed, excitement clear and buzzing.

He always loves seeing his Dad play and make plays out on the ice. He thought it was enchanting to watch him play. Oskar always complimented how he liked the way his Father skated out on the ice, as if he was floating. Everything about his Father, even his job, seemed surreal and amazing. He truly looked up to him in more ways than one.

“You think he’ll score tonight?” You questioned, picking him up to make it easier to maneuver your way to your designated seats.

“Of course! Papa’s a good scorer, Mama,” Oskar replied, head on your shoulder as he watched other fans of the Sharks and Bruins alike walk around. “Or he’ll get a pass”.

Oskar’s hockey terminology isn’t up to par with William or yours, so you know that he’s referring to an assist when he mumbles pass.

The two of you, including Felicia and her two kids, finally made it to your saved and designated seats by the other wives and girlfriends. It wasn’t too close to the glass but not far off where William wouldn’t be able to spot you both from the ice.

“Hope the boys break the Bruins win streak,” Felicia hopefully muttered to you once you all sat down, the two of you shoulder to shoulder while Oskar sat on the left of you and her children sat on the right of her.

You nodded in agreement. “I hope so too. It’d be good to get another win on the board”.

Conversation between the two of you flowed easily, both of your children also following into chatting as all five of you wait for warmups to start.

Warmups were Oskars favorite part of hockey games. He liked seeing all the things each individual player did before a game, especially whatever routine his Father decided to do that night.

“Mama?” Oskar asked, standing up in his seat as he leaned over to get your attention. “Can we go down to see Papa?”

“Of course! We always do, Ossie bear” you replied, swooping him in your arms as you kissed his pink cheeks.

By the time the five of you made it down to the glass, players had begun to skate out, flying by fans banging on the barrier separating them from the players.

Oskar had immediately began to bang on the glass with his palms, yelling for his Father, trying to catch his attention.

Macklin Celebrini had been the one to beeline towards the Eklund boy. A big smile spread on the tees lips, waving to Oskar as he held a puck in his hands, tossing it up over the glass for Oskar to catch.

“Hey, buddy!” Macklin exclaimed, tapping the glass with his gloved finger.

Oskar shrieked in excitement, holding the puck close to his chest as he slapped the glass. “Mack! Mack!”

Spotting his teammate animatedly talking to his son and wife, William grinned and made his way to the center player.

William gently collided with Macklin, wrapping his arms around the front of the teen, the both of them bouncing off the glass and spinning slightly.

“Papa!” Oskar shouted, hand slapping on the glass even harder. “Look! I got a puck!”

The young blond boy held up the puck that Mack tossed the child, grin so wide all of his teeth showed.

William smiled back at his son, rustling Macklin’s hair before the teen skated off to continue his warmup routine.

“I see that, bud! That was nice of him,” he commented, tapping the glass like the teen before him did.

His eyes darted up to you, the familiar look of adoration painted on his face as he watched you interact with Felicia and your son. William loved seeing the two of you at his games. It’s essentially what he lived for—seeing the two most important people in his life support him through every game and milestone in his career.

“Want to stay for media tonight, bud?” William asked, tossing pucks to fans near the two of you. “We can get gräddglass (ice cream) afterwards.”

At the mention of ice cream, Oskar nodded in agreement and you shot your husband a look, telling him that no matter the result of tonight’s game, he was in charge of taking care of Oskar during his sugar rush.

William only smiled, pressing some of his gloved fingers to his lips and putting them on the glass, his usual tell of ‘I love you’ before skating off. You and your son copied his action, eyes following as he ran off to join the others in their warmups.

“Hi, I’m so sorry” a voice piqued, catching your attention as you turned towards the direction of where the voice came from. “But would it be possible for me to get a picture with you? You’re just—You’re the coolest WAG ever!”

You chuckled a little, nodding as you adjusted Oskar in your arms.

The girl smiles widely and takes out her phone, leaning in a little and snapping the picture, all three of you smiling.

———

It had been a stressful first period.

The Sharks were shooting every chance they got, but none of them were successful. The game was tied at 0-0 for both teams going into the first intermission.

But within minutes of the second period, William had received a pass from Macklin, rushing down the ice as no one one the other team had been on defense. A Bruins player tried to block William’s shot, but his, and the goalies, efforts were in vain as the puck made contact with the net, the loud buzzer sound erupted throughout the arena.

Oskar jumped up from his seat, screaming at the top of his lungs.

“Oh my God!” Felicia screamed, jumping up and down along with her children. “He scored!”

You had been standing up the second William’s stick touched the puck this period. You cheered alongside your son and close friend, embracing your son as you lightly shook him in your hold.

“Papa scored! Papa scored!” Oskar cheered, toothy smile on his face as he pumped his hands in the air in excitement.

As chaos and cheers erupted from the stands and ice, William took a moment from his celebration and pointed at the two of you, his gloved fingers touching his lips beforehand. He smiled widely up at you and Oskar, smoothly gliding across the ice on his way back to the bench.

You returned the favor and smiled back just as big, your son still cheering in your arms.

It was moments like this that made it all the more worth it to support your husband in his dreams. You knew every goal was dedicated not just to you and Oskar, but everyone else who supported him in his endeavors.

“Looks like Ossie’s staying for media tonight,” Felicia muttered to you, smiles still decorating your faces.

You laughed at her comment, nodding to it as Oskar continued to celebrate his Fathers first goal of the night.

“There was no shot he wasn’t going to do it. He’s going to steal all the spotlight from William,” you added, your son now perched in his seat, adamantly watching the game on the ice.

It was moments like these that you thanked whatever higher power that you had the life you had. You were forever grateful that you landed in William’s life and that he made it all worthwhile.

[checkeredflagggs]

The Story of Us: Chapter 7

pairing: logan sargeant x famous!fem!singer

summary: logan and you have been keeping a secret from everyone but it might be time for it to come out

a/n: while I do my best on most of my works to be race neutral, this one is very very very self indulgent 🤷🏻‍♀️

a/n2: this is the end! Thank you all for following along! That said — I’m open to write more for them in the future!

a/n3: I still don’t understand instagram so - no one but those that follow you can see a private accounts comments (even on a public post). Also I still hate twitter so I’ve replaced it with Bluesky

Masterlist | Taglist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Valentine’s Day

Private Messages, Logan and y/n

Private Messages, Logan and Oscar/Alex/George

Private Messages, WAG Chat

Bluesky

user1: what??

user2: please say sike right now

user3: this is NOT what I wanted to wake up to…

user4: haha this is a joke right???

↳user5: it better fucking be. I can’t have my American driver off the grid…

user6: what the fuck are they thinking?

↳user7: that’s what I want to know??

↳user8: right? To piss off the y/n fans?

logansargeant: lol

↳user9: what does this mean? What do you know??? WHATS HAPPENING???

↳user10: come on and give us something please

user11: oh my god we knew it was gonna happen but I didn’t think it was gonna be so soon…

↳user12: WE KNEW IT WAS GONNA HAPPEN?? WHY WASNT I TOLD??

↳user13: yeah we knew it was gonna happen?? Since when??

↳user11: since the beginning of the year? Have you completely missed vowles dislike and shafting of Logan? How long they waited to resign him last year?

↳user14: the shafting is real — Logan has scored more points for Williams this year and he still got his car taken away…

↳user12: but Logan??

↳user11: I knowwwwww. I can’t say goodbye to Logan…

Bluesky

user15: no but for real! They’ve been so quiet about all of this…

↳user16: that’s so sus…

user17: right??? There has been NOTHING but that strange lol from Logan and complete silence from y/n!

↳user18: I know we’re going into summer break but I’m gonna need literally ANYONE to say something about this situation

user19: I just bet y/n has something up her sleeves…

↳user19: she’s been too quiet for something this big…

↳user20: she better!

y/n

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, user and 13,924,052 others

tagged: logansargeant

y/n: mornings, noons, and nights with you 🩵

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logansargeant: I’ll spend all my days with you

↳y/n: 🩵🩵

↳user25: ok but what does this mean?? WHAT DOES THIS MEAN??

↳user26: PLEASE

user22: couple goals!

↳user23: do I want to be y/n? Or do I want to be Logan?

↳user24: how about a secret 3rd option?

oscarpiastri: enjoying your break?

↳y/n: I always enjoy my time with Logan!

user27: the hand paintings though…

↳user28: look at the size difference there though!

↳user29: I want that so much

lilyzneimer: can’t wait to see you guys later!

↳y/n: counting down the days, lovely

↳user30: what do I have to do to become part of this friend group??

carmenmmundt: it was a pleasure to see you again 💚

↳y/n: you too, darling

↳user31: hello jealously my old friend

user21: so gorgeous!

alexandrasaintmleux: You, Kika, and I definitely need to get together soon with our fur babies!

↳y/n: literally name the time and place — Marshmellow and Croissant will be there!

↳francisca.cgomes: Simba and I are packing our bags right now!

↳alex_albon: Lily, Otter, and I are feeling neglected right now!

↳y/n: Lily and Otter are very welcome!

↳alex_albon: what??

↳lilymhe: we’re on our way!

↳iamrebeccad: so are Piñón and I!

↳charles_leclerc: what about us?

↳carlossainz55: you are stealing my dog?

↳alex_albon: a lot of dogs?

↳y/n: girls and fur babies only!

↳logansargeant: and me?

↳y/n: of course!

logansargeant

liked by y/n, alex_albon, oscarpiastri, and 2,924,733 others

tagged: y/n

logansargeant: summer breaks spent with you 🩵🤍

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y/n: nowhere else I’d rather be 🤍🩵

↳user32: oh my god the matching hearts…

oscarpiastri: thanks for the invitation out

↳logansargeant: it was just what we needed to end the summer break!

↳y/n: always

↳user33: they hosted a bonfire 🥹🥹

↳user34: I need to know who all was there!

↳user33: oh same…

alex_albon: ok but where were you feeding the giraffes??

↳logansargeant: 😂😂 sent you the info dude

↳alex_albon: thanks mate

↳logansargeant: 😉

user34: i so so so love the relationship between Logan and the rest of the grid…

↳user35: don’t really care for how long it took to develop though…

charles_leclerc: the drive-in was particularly amazing!

↳y/n: I told you! Best way to watch a Disney movie

↳user36: they also hosted a movie night?!?

↳logansargeant: we did!

user37: ok but is no one gonna talk about the painting picture???

↳user38: no you’re right we really need to talk about it good lord…

↳user39: back muscles 🤤🤤🤤🤤

↳user40: but imagine her sitting on him to draw that…

↳user41: that’s hot 🥵

Bluesky

user42: YES!

↳user43: HES BACK!!

user44: what? But wait what?

↳logansargeant: I’m driving for Williams next year! Hope this helps

↳user44: only slightly!

oscarpiastri: glad to see you’re back!

↳logansargeant: never actually left

↳user50: please give us something more than this

alex_albon: great! I didn’t want to have to break in a new teammate

↳y/n: no new teammates here!

↳logansargeant: not for a while at least…

↳user51: ok but now you’re just doing this to be mean…

oscarpiastri: did you really have to copy my tweet?

↳logansargeant: i absolutely did, thanks for the template

Bluesky

user52: THE EVIL HAS BEEN DEFEATED?!?

↳user54: Santa thank you for the early Christmas gift — I promise I’ll never ask for anything else ever again…

↳user52: same!

alex_albon: Thanks for all the support these past 2 seasons! It was an honor to work with you

↳user55: that’s such a dry af comment

↳user56: must have been a hard team to work with…

user57: and if I say y/n…

↳user58: no this has her hands all over it

↳user59: seriously?? Do you think she’s the answer to everything??

↳user57: everything? No. To this? Yes

↳user58: if it has to do with Logan? Absolutely

logansargeant: You’ll be missed in the garage

↳user60: ok no this is a dry as shit comment!

user61: I’m so used to giving and now I’m receiving!!

user62: bye bye LOSER

user63: 🙏🙏🙏🙏

user64: GET GONE!

f1

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, y/n and 1,824,103 others

tagged: logansargeant, williamsracing

f1: Logan Sargeant has been signed to the Williams family on a multi-year contract

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user65: our emotional support American driver!!

user66: WTF is a kilometer!!

user67: caw caw 🦅🇺🇸

↳logansargeant: the cry of my people!

↳user68: makes us proud Logan!!

oscarpiastri: congrats Logan!

↳logansargeant: thanks dude!

↳user69: now it’s your turn Oscar! Get that long term contract!

logansargeant

liked by y/n, oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, and 5,829,302 others

logansargeant: she said yes!

On a more serious note, y/n you are everything to me — the light of my life, the moon and stars in my nights, the best part of my brightest days and the comfort in the darkest nights. Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me and I praise it everyday. I’ve been ever so blessed to be by your side and I’ve never been happier when you said yes.

comments have been limited on this post

oscarpiastri: Congratulations!

alex_albon: So happy for you!

y/n: Oh Logan…there was never any doubt that I would say yes. Loving you, being with you, choosing to spend my life with you was the easiest thing I’ve ever done and I wouldn’t change a thing that led us to where we are now.

↳logansargeant: 🩵🩵

carmenmmundt: So lovely! Congratulations

alexandrasaintmleux: oh you’ll be such a beautiful bride!

georgerussel63: Felicitations!!

lilyzneimer: Congrats on finally asking the question Logan! And congratulations to you both!

↳logansargeant: I had to make sure everything was right first! But thank you

↳y/n: oh Logan…everything is right with you 💜💜

Taglist

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More Notes

This is slightly opened ended — I have no idea what goes into owning a team, who should be team principal…and I don’t know if I’ll ever write that out. I might write their wedding one day though…

[thebirdsareafterme]

The man who grew up surrounded by motorsports, the son of a legendary driver, who chose to forge his own path in a different category altogether instead of following his father’s footsteps and living under his shadow.

The man who made his F1 debut next to Max Verstappen and scored points at his very first race.

The man who carries on the legacy of Maria de Villota, an iconic female driver and his mentor that taught him single-seater racing, by wearing her star at the back of every helmet.

The man who broke Red Bull’s streak not once but twice during their most dominant era, through the power of sheer willpower and tactical brilliance. Once, in the streets of Singapore, with a strategy that no one else could have pulled off. “It’s on purpose,” he said, as he utilized the bond between him and his ex-teammate to hold off two much faster Mercedes. The second time in Australia, only two weeks after an invasive surgery and barely able to walk onto the podium.

The man who took engineering classes on his own time in order to understand the car better and provide better feedback to his engineers.

The man who uses a colour-coded system to communicate rain levels to his race engineer, memorized with every millimeter of rain correlating to a specific shade.

The man who has brought every team he has ever been at to a higher position in the Constructor’s Championship, and whose teammates speak fondly of every time.

The man who, despite always being considered Ferrari’s “second choice”, is a gracious teammate and speaks respectfully about the man who is set to take his place. “That's why, when I reflected on it, it didn’t hurt me that much. Because in the end it’s not any other driver replacing you, but the best driver in history. And in the end, if one has to replace me, let it be [Lewis],” he says to the media after losing his seat at his dream team.

The man who chose Williams, because he saw their potential for growth and their vision for the future, and chose them over teams who only wanted a temporary solution.

The man who was once described as “more modest and lightly brushed by melancholy”.

The man who is energetic, fun-loving and goofy with his friends inside and out of the paddock.

The man who is strategic in every action, determined to a fault and a natural born competitor.

Happy 30th birthday, Carlos Sainz Jr. We go where you go, now and forever.

[misshoneyimhome]

Could you do a oneshot of willy where you are rasmus' sister and like you are just as close with willy as you are your brother and hes always looked out for you as he would sandy, and maybe a player from another team tries to make a move on you and you get uncomfortable and he steps in and is like back off my girl bro, and then it's like a aha my girl that's so funny could never be true tho right? RIGHT?!?! and they lived happily ever after in love 🤪😘

Haha, I definitely had way too much fun writing this one 😂 I absolutely loved the idea, and honestly—even if it’s not my best work—I don’t even care because I enjoyed every second of it 🤭

So let’s just dive right in, shall we? 😉 Hope you enjoy it, love 💕

Tropes & warnings: William Nylander x reader, Rasmus Sandin's sister - friends to lovers, alcohol consumption, soft!willy & ofc protective!Willy, mention of sexual intercourse, language

Words count: 4.4K

My Girl I William Nylander (ft. Rasmus Sandin) ✐

Rasmus Sandin was everything you loved and hated in equal measure.

Your brother, your rival, your favourite punching bag and your fiercest protector—all rolled into one maddening, irreplaceable person. Two years older, and he never let you forget it. Growing up, everything was a competition: who could sprint fastest through the snow, who could score more goals in the driveway, who could get under Mum’s skin quicker.

You fought over stupid things and made up just as fast. You stole his hoodies and he changed your phone background to the worst selfies imaginable. But the moment someone else tried to mess with you? Rasmus was there. No hesitation. No questions asked. He’d step in with that fire in his eyes like don’t you dare touch what’s mine.

He was your safe place before you even knew what one was.

And as you both got older, his world started expanding—and so did yours.

When Rasmus was drafted to the Leafs in 2018, everything changed. He wasn’t just your annoying older brother anymore—he was playing pro hockey in Toronto. By the time the 2019–2020 season rolled around, he was wearing blue and white for real, living in a downtown apartment he shared with none other than William Nylander.

That’s when you met him properly.

William wasn’t just the funny guy from Rasmus’ training camp stories anymore. He was there. The quiet one with the sharp eyes and even sharper sense of humour. He had the charm, sure—but not the kind that made you feel small or like a joke. William was the type to ask how you were really doing, to remember the answer the next time you saw him.

At first, you figured he was just being polite. Friendly. You were Rasmus’ sister, after all. That came with certain unspoken rules.

But then he kept asking if you’d be at the games. If you were coming to team dinners. If you wanted to hang out after practice. He started texting you out of the blue—sending you memes, TikToks, photos of Rasmus doing something dumb at home. Little things. But they added up.

You didn’t live in Toronto, but you spent a lot of time there during that first season. And the more time you spent around William, the harder it became to tell where friendship ended and something else quietly began.

Rasmus never questioned it. He’d known William since 2016, long before he was a Leaf. He trusted him completely. To him, William’s attentiveness was just typical Willy—loyal to a fault, always looking after his people.

You were part of those people now. That was all.

But to you, William started becoming more than just part of Rasmus’ world.

He became yours too.

And you tried—God, you tried—not to read into it. Not to hope for something more. You told yourself over and over that he only saw you as Rasmus’ sister. That he was kind to everyone. That he was just being nice.

But it got harder to believe that when he made sure your coffee order was already waiting in the car after morning skate.

When he pulled you aside at team events because he could tell you were overwhelmed.

When he watched you laugh across a crowded room like he couldn’t look away.

One night during the second season—early on, when you were still trying to prove you could hang in the Toronto scene—Rasmus had invited you out for drinks with the team. You didn’t want to be the little sister clinging to the edges of the group, so you drank more than you should’ve. Tried too hard to keep up with guys who were built like machines and used to the lifestyle.

By the time you stepped outside, the city lights were spinning, and the sidewalk didn’t feel quite steady beneath your feet.

“Hey,” a voice said, gentle but firm. “You good?”

You blinked up at William, dazed. “I think the tequila won.”

He smiled, just a little, and offered his arm. “Come on. Let’s get you back to the apartment.”

You vaguely remembered leaning on him in the Uber. Him helping you out of your shoes. A glass of water pressed into your hands. William sitting beside you on the couch until you fell asleep.

When you woke up the next morning, head pounding and cheeks flushed with embarrassment, you found a glass of juice, two Advil  on the coffee table, and a text message. 

Don’t try to outdrink NHL players. We’re trained for this. —W

Your heart thudded for reasons that had nothing to do with the hangover.

From that day on, things between you shifted. Slowly, quietly, without ever being said out loud.

William became your best friend in Toronto—second only to Rasmus. Someone you could talk to about anything. The kind of friend who noticed when your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. The one you could sit in total silence with and still feel seen.

You helped him through the ups and downs of his relationship, offered advice you pretended didn’t sting to give. You held back your feelings with both hands because friendship was better than nothing. And because you were scared that crossing that line might ruin everything.

You were good at ignoring the ache. At pretending.

But William?

William had always been harder to read.

And sometimes—just sometimes—you wondered if he was pretending, too.

_

Now, a few years later, things looked a little different.

Rasmus had been traded to Washington a couple of seasons ago. He’d adjusted quickly—new team, new city, new phase of his career—but you knew there was still a piece of him that missed Toronto. The friendships he’d built here, the sense of home. William.

You came with him this time. It was your tradition, sort of. When the Capitals played in Toronto, you flew in to support him. You weren’t staying long, just a long weekend, but it felt like coming back to something familiar.

Rasmus had warned you the Leafs were on a hot streak—“don’t get your hopes up,” he muttered as you zipped up your jacket before heading to Scotiabank Arena. And sure enough, the Leafs pulled off a win.

Still, it was a good night. You hugged your brother after the game, stole one of his hoodies like old times, and stood in the hallway near the players’ lounge catching up with William, who’d already loosened his tie and had that flushed, post-game glow.

“You staying for the Sens game tomorrow?” he asked, tipping his chin toward you as he leaned against the wall, still catching his breath from the ice.

“Thinking about it,” you replied, smiling. “Unless you think I’ll jinx you again.”

He grinned, eyes flicking over your face. “You can jinx me anytime you want.”

You blinked. He said it like a joke. He always said things like that like a joke.

Except tonight… it didn’t feel like one.

You ended up staying.

The next night, the Leafs lost to Ottawa in overtime. William was annoyed, not outwardly, but you could tell. He had that subtle edge to him—quieter, more withdrawn. Still, when someone suggested going out for a few drinks, he nodded. “Yeah,” he said, glancing at you. “Let’s go.”

You weren’t even sure what felt different about the night—just that it was. The atmosphere was looser. Everyone seemed a little more grown-up, less reckless than they’d been in those early Toronto days.

You weren’t Rasmus’ teenage sister anymore, either.

You felt good tonight—comfortable in your skin, confident in a way you hadn’t always been around the team. Maybe that’s why you didn’t think twice when someone from the Senators’ roster slid into your space by the bar.

He was charming at first. Too charming. Smiling a little too wide, talking a little too close. You tried to laugh it off. To shift away. To politely decline.

But he didn’t take the hint.

“You sure about that?” he said, tilting his head. “Because I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

“I haven’t been looking at you,” you said calmly. “And I’ve already said no.”

“C’mon, just one drink—”

“Sorry,” a voice cut in, low and measured, “but my girl said no.”

You froze.

The tone was calm, sure, but it was laced with something unfamiliar—something sharp, protective, and entirely unshakable.

You turned toward the voice, pulse quickening.

William stood behind you, hands at his sides, posture relaxed in that effortlessly cool way he always carried himself. But his eyes—those were different. Steady. Cold. Focused entirely on the man standing a little too close to you.

The Senator—some third-line winger with a smug smirk—raised his brows, looking between you and William with amused detachment.

“Didn’t realise she was taken.”

William’s jaw flexed. “She is.” He didn’t blink. “By me.”

The guy gave a snort, clearly not taking any of it seriously, and backed off with a casual shrug, disappearing into the crowd with his drink and his ego intact.

But you stood there, frozen, as the weight of William’s words hung thick in the air between you.

My girl.

You blinked at him. “By you?”

William’s eyes softened when they met yours, but there was no trace of hesitation in them. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “By me.”

Your stomach flipped. It was like everything you’d tried to suppress—every late-night text, every subtle glance, every shoulder brush and shared silence—had suddenly broken through the surface.

“Is that… new?” you asked, your voice barely audible over the hum of music and laughter around you.

He gave you a small smile. The kind he only gave when it was just you and him and no one else watching. “I don’t think so.”

You stood there for a second, still rooted to the spot, processing the words. The way he said them so calmly, like it wasn’t something monumental. Like it hadn’t just shaken the foundation of everything you thought was settled between you.

You let out a slow breath. “So, what now?”

William glanced around the bar, then looked back at you, tucking one hand gently into the pocket of his jacket. “We could stay and pretend like nothing happened.”

You arched a brow. “You think I could actually do that?”

He smiled again, a little more mischievous this time. “Didn’t think so.”

You laughed—nervous, but real. Then, without another word, he reached for your hand. Not forcefully. Not dramatically. Just… casually. Like he’d done it a hundred times before.

You let him.

You didn’t say anything as he laced his fingers through yours and gave a light tug, leading you through the bar. Past the crowd, past the flashing lights, past your brother, who—thankfully—hadn’t witnessed any of that.

The moment the door shut behind you, the cold night air hit your cheeks, sharp and sobering. But you didn’t feel unsteady. Not this time.

William stopped at the edge of the sidewalk, turning to face you.

His hand was still in yours.

“I didn’t plan on saying anything tonight,” he admitted, voice low, almost lost to the sounds of traffic in the distance. “But when I saw him not backing off…”

Your heart thudded. “You didn’t like it.”

“I didn’t like how he made you look,” William said, eyes searching yours. “Like you wanted to disappear. And I’ve never seen you look like that.”

You swallowed hard. “And calling me your girl…?”

“Felt right,” he said simply. “Did it feel wrong to you?”

“No,” you whispered.

And then he stepped closer. Not hesitating. Not unsure. He reached up, his knuckles brushing your cheek, his touch featherlight.

“I should’ve said something sooner.”

You leaned in without even realising you were doing it. “Yeah,” you murmured. “You should’ve.”

His lips twitched. “You mad?”

“I’ll let you make it up to me.”

William grinned. “Deal.”

Then he kissed you.

Soft at first. Like he didn’t want to spook you. Like he was making sure you had every chance to pull away.

You didn’t.

You leaned into him, hands curling in his jacket, heart pounding as the kiss deepened—not desperate, but certain. Years of stolen glances and unsaid words finally blooming into something real.

When you broke apart, his forehead rested against yours, both of you a little breathless.

“Rasmus is going to lose his shit,” you said.

William chuckled. “He’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

He kissed your cheek. “Not even a little.”

You laughed, and he squeezed your hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

And as he led you down the sidewalk, the world suddenly felt a little quieter. A little steadier. Like you’d finally found your place.

Right next to him.

The condo was still and quiet when you walked in, save for the faint hum of the city outside the windows. William locked the door behind you, tossing his keys into the dish by the entrance with a soft clink.

Neither of you said much.

You slipped off your coat, your fingertips tingling with anticipation. He hung his up beside yours, then turned to face you—and for a second, neither of you moved.

It wasn’t awkward. It was charged.

Years of friendship, of toeing the line, of pretending—all of it—sat in the small space between your bodies, crackling like static.

William stepped toward you slowly, like he didn’t want to rush this. Like he already knew this moment was going to live in his memory for a long, long time.

“You okay?” he asked softly, voice thick with emotion.

You nodded. “Are you?”

“I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

That’s when you closed the distance, your hands finding the hem of his shirt as your mouth found his again—more sure, more urgent now. He responded instantly, his hands settling on your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies met in the middle.

You could feel his heartbeat under your palms, fast and steady.

“Do you know,” you whispered between kisses, “how long I’ve wanted this?”

William pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “Probably not as long as I have.”

You smiled, breathless, as he guided you through the living room toward the bedroom, pausing only to press his lips to yours again, and again—like he couldn’t quite believe this was real. Like he was making up for lost time.

The moment you stepped into his room, it felt natural. Familiar. Like you’d already been there a hundred times—but this time was different.

He helped you out of your sweater, fingers brushing lightly across your arms, his touch reverent. When you reached for the buttons on his shirt, he stilled your hands with his own.

“Hey,” he said, voice low. “We don’t have to rush this. We don’t have to do anything tonight.”

You looked up at him, heart full. “I want to. With you.”

That was all he needed.

The rest of your clothes fell away slowly, not in a blur but in a sequence of soft, deliberate touches—every movement quiet, careful, like unwrapping something fragile. His mouth traced every inch of your skin like he was learning it from scratch, like he’d waited so long he didn’t want to miss a single detail.

There was no performance. No pressure.

Just warmth. Soft laughter between kisses. Foreheads pressed together. Gasps shared under tangled sheets and whispered promises exchanged with fingertips on bare skin.

At one point, William paused, his thumb brushing along your jaw. “You still good?” he murmured.

You nodded, whispering his name, and pulled him back in.

It wasn’t just sex.

It was a culmination. A release. A confession you’d both been too scared to voice until now. You moved in sync, every shift and sigh answering a question that had hung between you for years.

Afterward, you lay there with your head on his chest, his fingers drawing slow circles across your spine, the silence no longer heavy but full.

“Okay,” you said after a long stretch of quiet. “That was…”

He glanced down. “Yeah?”

You tilted your chin, meeting his gaze. “Really damn worth the wait.”

William grinned, kissed your forehead, and pulled you a little closer. “Told you I’d make it up to you.”

_

The morning light filtered in through the curtains, soft and golden, warming the space between tangled sheets and quiet breathing. You stirred against the familiar rhythm of William’s chest rising and falling beneath your cheek, your limbs still lazily draped across his.

It was peaceful. Cosy. Your entire body was sore in the best way, and your mind floated somewhere between sleep and satisfaction.

William shifted slightly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Mornin’,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep.

You hummed, eyes still closed. “If this is a dream, I’m suing someone when I wake up.”

He chuckled, low and warm. “You’re very real. Trust me.”

You were just about to kiss him again—slow and soft, like it was the only thing that mattered—when the click of the front door echoed through the condo.

William froze. You blinked.

And then came his voice.

“Yo, Willy? You awake? I brought coffee.”

Your entire body locked up. William sat up like someone had electrocuted him.

“Shit.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach. “RAS?”

William jumped out of bed, grabbing his hoodie and pulling it over his head in a panic. “He wasn’t supposed to come until eleven!”

You grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around yourself like a human burrito. “What do I do?! Where do I go?!”

William looked around the room, wild-eyed. “Uh—closet?”

You stared at him. “I’m not hiding in a closet like this is some bad high school rom-com.”

“Okay, then under the bed?!”

“WILLIAM.”

His eyes darted to the ensuite bathroom. “There. Just—just go in there and lock the door. I’ll distract him.”

You didn’t have time to argue. You grabbed your clothes off the floor, scampered into the bathroom, and softly closed the door just as Rasmus’ voice got louder.

“I swear to God, if you’re still asleep I’m leaving without you,” he called, his footsteps coming closer.

William cracked the bedroom door and stepped out, running a hand through his hair like he could somehow will himself to look casual.

“Hey, man.”

Rasmus frowned. “You just woke up? I texted you twenty minutes ago.”

William forced a yawn and leaned against the doorframe. “Yeah. Long night.”

You sat in the bathroom, clutching your shirt to your chest, trying not to breathe too loudly.

“Is someone here?” Rasmus asked suddenly, peering past William toward the bedroom.

“Nope,” William said way too fast. “Why would someone be here?”

“I heard something. Like… a door close.”

William shrugged. “Window. Wind. I dunno, man.”

There was a beat of silence. Then: “Wait. Is there a girl here?”

William cleared his throat. “Define ‘here.’”

“Oh my god. You do—you hooked up last night?”

You facepalmed.

“Well,” Rasmus continued with a smirk, “good for you, I guess. Wait—do I know her? Who is it? Someone from the bar?”

William looked like he was going to combust. “Dude, don’t worry about it.”

“I am worrying about it,” Rasmus said, crossing his arms. “This is my best friend. In my former apartment. I deserve details.”

Your phone vibrated in your hand with a text from William:

he’s not leaving. SOS. u ok in there??

You typed back with trembling thumbs.

I’m hiding in your damn bathroom with your hoodie and zero dignity.

“Okay, you’re being weird,” Rasmus said. “You’re always weird but now you’re avoidance weird. I’m going in there—”

William panicked. “NO!”

Rasmus froze. “Why not?”

“Because,” William said, his voice cracking slightly, “because I… spilt protein powder everywhere.”

There was a pause.

“William, what the hell is going on—”

The bathroom door opened slowly.

You stepped out in his hoodie, makeup smudged from sleep, bare legs and messy hair giving away everything. You weren’t even sure why you did it. Maybe it was the sheer ridiculousness of hiding like a teenager, or maybe it was the look on William’s face—cornered, panicked, helpless.

Either way, it was too late to turn back now.

Rasmus blinked. His eyes dropped to the hoodie. Then to your face. Then to William.

The silence was deafening.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL F—”

“Okay, okay!” William practically launched himself between you and Rasmus like a human shield. “Just—let’s all take a deep breath.”

“You’ve gotta be joking,” Rasmus said, eyes wide, voice rising. “YOU AND HER? IN YOUR BEDROOM?”

“I mean,” you said weakly, “it’s not like it’s the first time I’ve been in his apartment—”

“Not helping,” William muttered.

“How long has this been going on?!” Rasmus demanded, hands flailing. “What happened to bro code? What happened to boundaries? And you—” he pointed at you, “—you’re supposed to tell me when you’re secretly hooking up with my best friend!”

“I wasn’t aware we were scheduling announcements,” you said flatly.

“I lived with you,” Rasmus said to William, still spiralling. “I trusted you. I defended you. I told people you were like a brother!”

William winced. “To be fair, this is kind of your fault. You introduced us.”

“I’m going to pass out.”

“Okay,” William said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Deep breaths. Remember the skating plan? You love skating.”

“You love ruining my life!”

William turned to you quickly, voice low. “I’m gonna get him out of here before he actually combusts. Stay. Chill. I’ll text you.”

You nodded, trying not to laugh as Rasmus muttered what sounded like Swedish curses under his breath and slapped William’s arm away.

“Touch me again and I swear to God I’ll throw your skates in the lake.”

“I love you too, man.”

Within a minute, the front door closed behind them, and the condo fell blissfully silent.

You let out the breath you hadn’t realised you were holding.

Your phone buzzed with a message from William.

okay that could’ve gone worse 😅 take your time. shower’s yours. spare key is in the drawer by the sink—just lock up behind you. also, I’m in love with you, in case that wasn’t obvious. ❤️

You smiled, warmth blooming through your chest as you set your phone down and padded toward the bathroom.

Despite everything—despite your brother very nearly imploding this morning—it still felt like the best possible kind of disaster.

And honestly?

You wouldn’t change a thing.

_

It wasn’t until halfway through their friendly skate at the outdoor rink that the other guys started noticing it.

“Okay,” Calle Järnkrok said, gliding up beside Rasmus with his stick resting lazily on his shoulder. “What’s up with you and Willy? Did he forget your birthday or chirp your flow or something?”

Rasmus didn’t look up from retying his skates, jaw clenched like he was one wrong word away from snapping his stick in half.

“Nothing.”

Calle raised a brow. “You sure? ’Cause you’re staring at him like he borrowed your car and returned it without the brakes.”

“He didn’t borrow my car.”

“But he did something?”

Rasmus let out a long, frustrated sigh. “He’s just… being William.”

Calle smirked. “Did ‘being William’ include sleeping with your sister?”

Rasmus choked mid-breath.

“How do you know?!”

Calle laughed. “Bro. You stormed out of his apartment this morning like it was on fire, and he’s been walking around grinning like he just scored the game-winner at the Olympics. Everyone knows.”

Rasmus muttered something in Swedish that Calle wisely chose not to respond to, and skated off with enough force to spray snow halfway down the rink.

You were the last to arrive at dinner.

The group had gathered at your favourite cozy restaurant in Toronto, a mix of Leafs, Caps, and a handful of mutual friends. You spotted Rasmus immediately—arms folded, expression grim, sipping a beer like it personally wronged him—and William beside him, visibly trying not to smirk.

You slid into the seat across from them, offering your brother a cautious smile.

“Hey.”

Rasmus gave you a stiff nod. “Hi.”

A heavy pause settled over the table.

“I like your hoodie,” you added lightly.

“It’s his hoodie,” Rasmus muttered, eyes narrowing at William. “I know it’s his hoodie.”

Calle, seated beside him, let out a bark of laughter. “God, this is better than Netflix.”

Dinner continued mostly without incident—mostly. The food was great, the wine even better, and the table was loud with stories and laughter… all except for Rasmus, who hadn’t smiled once.

When dessert arrived, he set down his fork and cleared his throat.

Everyone quieted instantly.

He looked between you and William, jaw tight, clearly running through whatever speech he’d practiced in his head a dozen times since that morning.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he said, voice serious. “And I’ve come to a conclusion.”

William shifted in his seat. You sat a little straighter.

“Yeah?” you asked.

“I hate it.”

“Ras—”

“No, let me finish,” he cut in, raising a hand. “I hate that I walked into my best friend’s place and found my baby sister creeping out of his bedroom. I hate that I had to process all of that before I’d even had my first coffee. And I hate that you made me experience every protective older brother cliché in one single, horrific morning.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop from smiling.

Then Rasmus turned to William, and the mood shifted ever so slightly.

“But,” he said, quieter now, “I also know you. And I know you care about the people in your life more than most guys in this league. And I know you’d never hurt her.”

William met his eyes. “I wouldn’t.”

“And if you do,” Rasmus added, deadly serious, “I will personally bodycheck you into next season.”

William nodded solemnly. “Fair.”

You blinked. “Wait… is that your way of giving us your blessing?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you implied it.”

“I implied nothing.”

“You implied everything,” Calle said, grinning into his drink. “We all heard it.”

Rasmus rolled his eyes and picked up his beer again. “Whatever. Just don’t make me witness any PDA or I swear I’ll eat dinner in the kitchen.”

You grinned, leaned over, and pressed a kiss to William’s cheek.

Rasmus dropped his fork like it physically pained him. “You’re both dead to me.”

The table erupted with laughter.

But later—when the noise had softened into background chatter, and everyone was leaning back full and happy—you caught your brother watching you and William with something that wasn’t quite a glare.

It was quieter than that. A little weary. A little soft.

Like a surrender.

Like trust.

The kind that only comes from someone who loves you both.

And that was more than enough.

[tthesongofachilless]

THE WINNER TAKES IT ALL

♟️ — relationship: Max Verstappen x fem!teammate!reader

♟️ — face claim: Pinterest

♟️ — WARNING: This smau includes hate, death threats and sexism.

♟️ — a/n: thank you everyone for the support recently! Its been a wild ride making this, so I hope you enjoy it! For requests on my next smau, feel free to put in an ask! Enjoy

maxverstappen1, yourbestfriend and 384,752 other liked..

f1: F1 BREAKING: Y/n Y/l/n signs with Redbull! ✏️

view comments:

user1: WHAT HUH WAIT WHAAA

user2: RUE... WHEN WAS THIS?

user3: IM SHAKING

redbullracing: welcome 🫶🏻

user4: OH HELL NO

user5: checo come back the kids miss you (im the kids)

maxverstappen1: 👋

user6: i thought we were getting a maxiel reunion..

user7: she's a fucking rookie what do redbull expect is gonna happen

user8: the history book on the shelf is always repeating itself 😔😔😔

yourusername: 🫶

user9: shut your goofy ass up go to Williams instead they will LOVE you there

yourbestfriend, landonorris and 23,038 others liked..

yourusername: trying to live my life till the fullest until my trainer forces me to stop 🙈

view comments:

user10: oh don't worry girlie you'll be back to living your life till the fullest in no time

user11: gosh lando in the likes she's already tryna bag every driver

user12: all i wanna know is how does y/n make that many cups of coffee and not finish any of them?

user13: cant wait to see her make a post talking about her leaving F1

user14: y/n is about to become the james charles of f1

yourbestfriend: miss you xxx

yourusername: miss you more!!!

—

liked by redbullracing, maxverstappen1 and 197,296 others..

f1: 👋 Hello Max, Hello Y/n! Who's ready for our opening round of the season?

view comments

user20: gosh she won't even let the photographers get a good picture for the official f1 insta

user21: did they..... arrive together...?

user22: uhm!!! who is this girl!!!! where is checo!!!!???

user23: max run

redbullracing: Hello, f1!

yourusername: ME!!!🙈🙈🙈

user24: shut UP ALREADY

schecoperez and 482,074 liked..

f1: CONTACT! 💥 Max Verstappen is okay, safety car is deployed.

view comments:

user25: im going to murder y/n.

user26: turning the tv off it isn't worth watching anymore

user27: CHECO IN THE LIKES HAHAHA

user28: hey y/n do a mazespin

user29: redbull shaking in their boots

landonorris, redbullracing and 963,285 liked..

f1: Y/N Y/L/N, A FORMULA ONE GRAND PRIX WINNER!

view comments

yourbestfriend: THAT'S MY GIRL

redbullracing: 👊👊👊

user30: ugh

user31: can't wait for her to crash at every other race!

user32: wondering how the haters feel now...

yourusername: I FEEL AMAZING 🥁🥁

user33: kill yourself

yourusername posted a story!

caption: I'm winning

tagged: maxverstappen1

view comments

maxverstappen1: uhm you cheated

yourusername: you literally ate one of your cards

user34: leave that man alone

user35: jump out of the bus

maxverstappen1, taylorswift and 38,284 others liked..

yourusername: Taylor was right! Haters gonna hate hate hate while I'm just gonna shake shake shake!

view comments

user36: she's so annoying

user37: she's a swiftie? Gonna stop listening to Taylor now 🙉

taylornation: glad we could help 💕

user38: are we not going to talk about the second picture

user39: im scared for that mans wellbeing

maxverstappen1: 🏌️ Score!

user40: MAX RUN

—

— 7 Months later..

maxverstappen1, yourbestfriend and 918,024 others liked..

yourusername: wanna die but at least I've got my boo 💐

view comments

yourusername: you deserve so much better baby 💕

maxverstappen1: 👫 twinssss

user44: I'm sorry YOU SAY TWINS IN THAT YOU WANNA DIE OR YOU GOT YOUR BOO

user45: girl has been through it all in the past few months

user46: show them that they're wrong!!

user47: who is the boo?

user48: ugh such a pinterest lifestyle

liked by redbullracing, maxverstappen1 and 486,019 others

f1: Our final race of the season is upon us! Who will take the title? Verstappen or Y/l/n?

view comments

user50: if y/n manages to win the title in her rookie year despite all the hate she's getting I'm going to be so proud

user51: both deserve it so much 🧡

redbullracing: We are happy either way!

user52: DU DU DU DU MAX VERSTAPPEN

user53: y/n prove the haters wrong!

liked by 401,851 others.

F1: RED FLAG 🚩 Mick is okay.

view comments

user54: SHITTTT

user55: Mick baby you need a new seat

user56: doesn't this now make redbull 1-2?

user57: yeah! y/n is leading while Max is second

liked by 1,052,852 others

F1: We go racing again in Abu Dhabi! Y/n is leading with Max in second and Lewis in third.

view comments

user58: YOU GOT THIS Y/N!!!

user59: Lewis could do so something really funny now

user60: MAXIE 2024 CHAMP

user61: last race with Lewis at merc... im not sad... no...

user62: im shaking

maxverstappen1, yourbestfriend and 4,952,012 others liked..

F1: OUR NEWEST WORLD CHAMPION, Y/N Y/L/N!

view comments

user64: fucking bitch

user65: YESSSSSS

user66: UGH

user67: the way max looked at her when he got out of the car 🥹

user68: can't tell if she used him to get the wdc or if they are actually in love

user69: MAX AND Y/N OH MY GODD

user70: 💕

yourbestfriend: AHDHDHHGDDHHD IM GONNA DIE

yourusername, redbullracing and 6,308,157 others liked

maxverstappen1: Y/n, I've loved you since I first met you in our junior years. Your personality matches mine, and I could've never asked for anyone more beautiful than you. Please let us grow old together and look back on these moments and laugh.

Love you, world champion. 💛

view comments

yourusername: 💛 Gosh I love you come back to our room let me kiss you

user71: "let us grow old together" max what if I just died now

redbullracing: So happy for you both 💛

user72: THE THIRD PICTURE?

user73: gonna cry myself to sleep

user74: THEY ARE SO CUTEEEE

user75: UGHFHFHFHD

— fin 💐

— ♟️ a/n : thank you all so much for reading this! This took a while to make, as i was really stuck on how to progress the story further without making it too short. Again, if you have any smau requests, feel free to put them in my asks! Love you all 🦅🦅

[midnightdraftsblog]

.・。.・゜✭・ʀᴀᴅɪᴏ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ・✫・゜・。.

summary: being a PR manager came with its struggles- especially if the driver is cold as ice

pairing: carlos sainz x fem! PR manager! reader

warnings: none

words: 2.6k

part one

╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╝

It was now the Imola, Emilia-Romagna, Grand Prix- things had been getting better. Carlos was scoring points, albeit not getting the exact positions he would want, but still scoring nonetheless.

Your relationship with him was still shaky, every time you spoke with him about something media related he would tense up and have this immediate cold exterior fall over him, granted he was like that most of the time.

You had picked up subtle things about him, things that made him seem more human. Before the Miami GP he would be warming up, and you could notice his hands shaking, fidgeting and twisting his fingers. That certainly intrigued you.

After the Bahrain Grand Prix you, Carlos, Alex and a few others from the Williams team had gone out for dinner- the check was obviously on James. Everyone had driven themselves back to the hotel, you included, but you waited back to see what Carlos was doing.

“Did you drive?” You ask hesitantly, not sure what would get under his skin. Carlos glanced up at his phone, his brown eyes staring into yours. “I don’t typically drive at night” He replied bluntly, “I have an Uber”

So he was a Formula One driver who tries to avoid night driving and entrusts his life in the hands of a random person. Yes, that makes sense.

You let out a small laugh, “That’s unusual, I wouldn’t have pictured that.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow at your comment, his usual stoic expression faltering slightly. He wasn’t quite sure how to react to it. He was used to people asking him all sorts of questions about his small fear or making fun of him, but this one somehow felt different.

He stuffed his phone into his pocket, his eyes still on you. “And what were you imagining exactly?” He asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and annoyance. He hated how you were amused at his preference.

“I just..I just would assume since you drive professionally that it wouldn’t bother you..” You say, face starting to flush in embarrassment, “I didn’t mean any harm..and well I guess the tracks are well-lit when you’re driving them..” You add on, trying to somehow save yourself in the situation.

Carlos’s expression softens slightly at your nervous demeanor, it was oddly endearing. He almost wanted to tease you for it, but he held himself back.

He lets out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “You're not wrong.” He admits, his voice low. “But there’s a difference. I'm used to the tracks, I know them well. The streets at night are different.” He explains, his eyes looking away from yours.

“That makes sense..” You say with a small smile, fidgeting with your purse in your hands, “That’s actually really fair, I never quite thought of it that way..”

Carlos could feel his guard coming down a little. There was just something about the way you spoke, the way your eyes lit up as you listened to him. He found himself wanting to say more, to keep the conversation going.

But he quickly reminded himself of the professional boundary. You were the PR manager, he was the driver. He couldn’t let himself get too comfortable, no matter how nice you were being. He knew better than to let himself get comfortable again.

He pushed down the fluttering he felt in his chest, forcing himself to return to his usual stoic state.

“Shouldn’t you be leaving?” He asks, breaking the brief moment of silence. He didn’t want to linger too long in your presence, he knew it was a dangerous game.

But he couldn’t deny the strange attraction that he was feeling towards you. Something about you, the way you didn’t back down, it intrigued him.

“Oh! Yes I believe so..” You say, looking down at the time on your watch, “I’ll see you later then, Carlos” You add on with an awkward smile, being one of the few left at the table in the restaurant.

You didn’t get a reply from him, but you did get a head nod and even a small smile back. That was progress!

One more last thing you had noticed about him, he never mentioned Ferrari, except that one interview. That was a memory you never wish to re-live.

“Okay Carlos..I know you don’t quite enjoy doing this stuff but it’ll help your image..” You say, sitting down across from him at a table- microphone clipped to his Williams team kit shirt and camera positioned at him.

“I just have some questions for you pulled from fans..” You add on, “Just a simple response is good, or if you’re feeling adventurous you could make it a two sentence response!” You weren’t sure how the sarcasm would go with him today, but it was worth a shot.

Carlos groans internally as he sees the camera being set up in front of him. He’d rather be doing literally anything else, but he knew that this was important. It was good for his image, as you had said.

He grumbles under his breath as you mention the questions, rolling his eyes slightly. He hated these kinds of things, having to put up with the camera and the lights.

But then he hears you add, somewhat sarcastically, “if you’re feeling adventurous you could make it a two sentence response.”

His eyes narrow on you. You were teasing him. He didn’t understand what you were playing at, he was used to being the second best, pushed aside for someone else, so why put in all of this effort to help his image when you could have easily quit after the first disaster of an interview.

You hesitated to ask the first question, it was the first time you were seeing them- the media team had more to do with this than you did, but they wanted you to ask the questions, confident that you would get a better answer out of Carlos.

“What’s something that you’ll be carrying on from Ferrari to Williams?”

Carlos sat up straighter in his seat, his brows furrowed slightly. He had been prepared for this question, but he still hated it. He didn't want to talk about Ferrari.

But as he looked at you, he saw the expectant look in your eyes, the way you were silently urging him on. He took a deep breath and began to speak.

“I'm going to carry my work ethic to Williams,” He said firmly. “I'm going to give it my all, just like I did at previous teams. Red Bull, McLaren, Renault, they all helped in shaping me.” His eyes met yours, holding your gaze for a moment, almost asking, teasing playfully, if that was good enough.

You gave a small head nod at his words- that was a good response, maybe you were helping him after all. Somehow he managed to answer all of the questions without mentioning Ferrari's name, if it was regarding the team. It was honestly impressive and you gave him props for doing that.

Another thing from the Miami GP, the weather had been questionable. Raining, windy and in general, not pleasant. You had plans once more with the team to go out for drinks and dinner, but you and Carlos got held up at the hotel.

You both stood in the lobby, waiting for the weather to let up. Glancing over at him silently you take in his stature. He was quiet, scrolling through his phone.

Carlos stood in the hotel lobby, his phone in his hand as he scrolled aimlessly through social media. He was bored, waiting out the weather with you was not how he had wanted to spend his evening. He could hear the rain and wind battering against the windows, the sound loud and relentless.

He could feel your gaze on him, and he glanced up from his phone to find you looking at him. He raised an eyebrow, "What?" He asked, his usual blunt tone in his voice.

“Nothing..nothing..” You say, eyes averting from his, “Just rough weather”

Carlos let out a small scoff, putting his phone back in his pocket. "You can say that again." He mutters, his irritation clear in his voice.

He leans back against the wall, taking a moment to stretch his legs. He was tired, and the prospect of going out to drinks and dinner was becoming less and less appealing.

He turns to look at you, his eyes flickering over your face. "Do you think the rain will let up anytime soon?" He asks, his voice slightly softer than before.

Your eyebrows raise at the slight shift in his tone, that wasn’t normal. “Probably not..but you never know” You say, looking out through the many windows in the lobby at the rain and shifting trees due to the wind.

Carlos followed your gaze out the windows, grimacing at the sight of the relentless rain. He hated this, being stuck indoors when he could be out doing something productive.

He lets out a sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Great." He mutters, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

He pauses for a moment before speaking again, his mood seemingly shifting. "You know..." He starts, his voice quieter. You look over at him expectantly, letting out a hum.

Carlos hesitates for a moment, considering his words carefully. He didn't know why he was feeling the sudden urge to talk, to open up to you. But there was something about you that made him feel strangely comfortable.

"I've never been good at small talk." He admits, his eyes meeting yours. "I'm not used to casual conversations, everything is always business and PR-" He pauses.

You take in his words, nodding your head slightly, “It’s always so formal, isn’t it?” You ask, almost encouraging him to continue.

Carlos lets out a small sigh, his shoulders relaxing slightly. For some reason, it was nice to talk to someone who understood.

"Yeah, it's exhausting." He replies, the annoyance creeping back into his voice. "Every interaction is calculated, every word is carefully chosen to maintain a perfect image. Sometimes I just want to say what I actually feel, without worrying about the media backlash."

You understood that, the drivers were under the spotlight constantly. You were starting to gather the fact he hated anything “pre-made” or fake. You had started to wonder what really happened at Ferrari?

He takes a deep breath, contemplating whether or not to open up about his experience at Ferrari.

But there was something about you that made him feel like he could trust you, like you wouldn't judge him for his feelings. He hesitates for a moment before speaking again.

"Ferrari..." He starts, his voice low. "Ferrari was a nightmare."

Yes! Finally you were actually making more progress with him!

You saw a glimpse of something cross his face, and in an instant he shut down whatever he was going to spill. Carlos noticed the excitement on your face at his words, and it only added to his irritation. He hated showing vulnerability, hated revealing weakness.

But you were looking at him with such anticipation, and he found himself wanting to open up to you even more.

His expression hardened, his usual stoic mask slipping back into place. He couldn't let you in, he couldn't risk showing you his true self. "Never mind." He snapped, his voice sharp.

Well, at least he had been being viewed well on media now, mostly thanks to you and the small little media tasks you had him doing.

Eventually the weather had calmed down, you and Carlos had made it to the restaurant the others were at. You were seated across from Carlo’s and next to one of the media workers- his name was Jacob, he was nice, good conversation.

“I know! That movie was so good!” You say with a smile, Carlos could see the way your eyes lit up as you talked about some random movie you watched on the flight to Miami.

“It’s one of my favorites! They came out with a sequel for if not too long ago, we could watch it at my place sometime?” Carlos had overheard the conversation- this random guy was asking you out right in front of him. It angered him.

He sat there silently watching as the two of you talked back and forth. It took him a moment to realize it, he wasn’t mad. He was jealous.

And he hated himself for it.

Once more you and Carlos were one of the last to leave the table, “Alright I’ll see you later!” You say with a smile, waving bye to Jacob. You could feel Carlos staring into your soul. “Is something wrong?” You ask, actually concerned since he hadn’t uttered a word since the moment at the hotel lobby.

Carlos could feel the anger and jealousy coursing through his veins as he watched the conversation unfold between you and Jacob. He hated the way you laughed at his stupid jokes, the way you lit up as you talked about movies with him.

He hated the way he felt, the strange possessive feeling he had towards you. He had no right to feel that way, he had no claim over you.

As you said goodbye to Jacob and turned to him, he couldn't keep the irritation out of his voice. "No, nothing's wrong." He replied gruffly, his eyes narrowing.

“Right..okay” You say giving Carlos an odd look. You let the silence overcome you two, the background noise of other conversations and music surrounding. You finally spoke up, “I wanted to apologize for earlier..If I crossed a line I shouldn’t have.”

Carlos's expression softened slightly at your words. He was surprised that you were apologizing, he wasn't used to people taking the initiative like that.

"It's fine." He said gruffly, his tone softening a bit. "You didn't cross any line."

“Alright good, I just didn’t want you to feel like I was forcing you to talk about something you didn’t want to..” You add on, grabbing your glass and holding it in your hand, needing to do something to distract the anxious feeling crawling in your chest.

Carlos noticed the way your hands fidgeted with the glass in your hands, a nervous habit. It was a vulnerable side of you he hadn't seen before.

He let out a small sigh, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "I appreciate that." He replied honestly. "It's just- I'm not used to talking about my feelings, especially not with coworkers."

Coworkers. Right yes, that was it. Nothing more.

It’s not like you wanted anything else! Really, he was a pain to deal with and always seemed to be in an insufferable mood, imagine having to deal with that constantly! But he looked good when he ran his hand through his hair, or when he lifted himself in and out of the cockpit.

You blink at him, finally snapping out of your thoughts, “Yes! Yes, that's completely understandable..” You say with a shaky smile, trying to hide the fact that his words hurt you- whether you were aware of that yourself or not.

"It's nothing personal." He said, his voice a bit firmer this time. "I just prefer to keep things professional."

“Of course, Carlos” You reply, lips firmly pressed together. Why was this bothering you so much?! He was a pain to work with and made your job much more difficult than it needed to be.

Carlos was confused by your reaction. Why did you seem so upset all of a sudden? He had just been honest with you, he was only saying that he didn't want things to be personal between you. He didn't like how your once bright smile had now faded.

You always seem to be irritated with him, just wanting to know his secrets or just trying to boss him around with all the PR things you do.

So why did this bother both of you?

╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╝

notes✨: Another part done! My Hunger Games series parts will be coming out slower than I would like but I’m quite busy. This series should have more frequent updates as well as other fics for different fandoms! Please leave comments, suggestions and requests!

taglist: @emilyroxy @imdyinghelpplease

part three

[cassidyandonlycassidy]

and they were teammates

words: 2.2k

warnings: 18+ only, smut (but not a lot), shower sex, established relationship, secret/hidden relationship, driver!reader, fluffy

when mclaren approached you to sign for their team, you had one question going through their head. did they know about you and lando? you weren't sure how to bring it up in the initial meeting. did lando already tell them? you were a rival driver for williams after all, which is why you kept your relationship private.

you felt really good about the first discussion. you've been scoring really well at your current team, despite williams struggling with performance, and it felt good that mclaren saw that and wanted to give you a bigger opportunity.

the first person you called when you left the meeting was your boyfriend. lando had no clue that mclaren was looking to sign you as their second driver, but he was instantly excited that his girlfriend could be even closer to him.

you quickly brought up your relationship, and ended up after a long discussion agreeing that lando should tell mclaren, and you'd both cross your fingers that it wouldn't mean you lose the offer, so when you got a phone call from zak, you picked it up nervously.

"hello." 

"lando told me, and can i just say, we did figure that you were either already together or would become a couple once you started here."

you let out a laugh. "i guess we aren't as good at hiding how we feel about each other as we thought."

sure, you hear it all the time from the fans because even while you only portray yourself as close friends publicly, you are a male and female being friends in f1, meaning of course people are going to ship you. its a lot different when people you're close to also see how you feel about each other.

you end up signing a two year contract, sad to leave williams who were the first team to give you an opportunity in f1, but extremely excited to be in papaya. the second you leave the room after signing, you see lando sitting on a bench outside the room. you scan the hallway quickly to make sure it's empty, deciding to keep your relationship under wraps from non-essential people, and run to him. lando stands up and twirls you in his arms, pressing a big kiss to your lips.

"im so happy." you whisper, taking his face in your hands. "we are gonna be teammates, can you believe that?" 

"we get to spend even more time together." lando says, squeezing your body against his, before you hear a door open and you're forced to separate, but his eyes don't lose the excitement.

everything goes so well, the announcement, seeing the fans excitement, all the press leading up to the new season. even your first qualifying with mclaren goes well, until the actual race when you dnf. it's certainly not how you wanted to start. there was some sort of problem with the engine forcing you to retire, but lando certainly made you feel better after with lots of kisses and cuddles in your driver's room to make up for it.

your next couple races go much better, enjoying building the team dynamic and getting to know everyone, all while constantly having lando around supporting you.

the second half of the season gets even better when the car improves massively, so now instead of struggling for points, you're trying for podium positions. lando gets p3 while you get p4, but you can't help yourself from running up to him and giving him a huge hug, wrapping your legs around his waist as he holds you up.

it sets off a whole new round of rumors, but you are just so proud of your boyfriend and wanting to show him and everyone.

"you did so well, im so proud of you." you say, pressing a kiss to his lips quickly, knowing the hallway you're standing in is high trafficked and someone is bound to walk down it and see you too conversing.

"next time it's both of us on the podium." lando says, and he's right, the next race, lando finds himself p2 with you right behind in p3. you give him another massive hug after both celebrating with the team, getting your helmet and your back slapped in congratulations.

you thought you would be more nervous for your first podium in f1, but the excitement and happiness outweighs that feeling massively, and lando subtly holding your hand in the cool down room, letting you stay connected to him.

you didn't think it could get better than standing on those steps with lando, spraying him with champagne and laughing as he dumps the bottle on your head before wrapping his arm around your shoulders, getting lots of pictures together and kind of forgetting that there is someone in p1 there, so focused on the two of you being on the podium together that it feels like winning.

next race is tough, so physically tough and draining, but when lando makes a move for p1 and gets it, you know you have to pull your weight and move up from p4, so you struggle for the positions, almost going off a couple times, but you make it up to p2 right before the checkered flag waves.

the excitement you feel from the team is unlike no other. during the first half of the season, they were happy if both drivers were in the points, but now there's the first p1 and p2 in years, as well as landos first ever win. you want to cry watching your boyfriend celebrate, you're so overjoyed for him that when you go to give him a hug, you don't even question when his lips press against yours for everyone to see.

you always discussed telling people when it felt right, and clearly it did for lando, and you're happy to not hide anymore so you kiss him back.

he pulls away with a big smile, one that doesnt leave his face as he gets onto the podium, holding up his p1 trophy before gesturing for you to join him on the top step.

you celebrate more after the podium, when you're supposed to be showering, you're pressed against the wall of landos driver's room, his hips pressing into yours with your legs wrapped around his waist. you hide your mouth in his shoulder, knowing the walls here are thin as one of his hands drops down to rub at your clit. you both cum at the same time, so wrapped up in the adrenaline of the race that you don't realize how exhausted the act makes you, both of you dragging your feet through the post race process, skipping celebrations that night in favor of crashing at your hotel room, but you make it up to the team the next night.

"so lando, y/n, we saw a big kiss during celebrations last week, is there anything you want to tell us?" the interview asks, causing your cheeks to go red. you carefully avoided all questions about the kiss, but when you saw that you and lando were paired together in the official press conference, you knew exactly what was coming.

you turn to lando who is sitting next to you, silently pleading for him to answer. "well, we've been together for about a year now, so we figured it was time everyone knew." lando smiles, addressing the reporters but his eyes don't look away from you as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. you smile and lean your body against his, knowing that he will be by your side to field all the questions.

it eventually dies down as the season continues on, both scoring a couple podiums, but no more wins for the team, even as both of you get close many times. you are a lot more open with your relationship now, occasionally holding hands and sneaking kisses, but you still try to keep it somewhat private as you avoid a lot of pda, wanting to still be professionals for your team.

the next race is an unexpected win for you. you were pushing hard for p1, when the man you were trying to get past went off the track while defending you, letting you get ahead for the lead. if you weren't on the last lap he certainly would have caught back up, but you ended up winning the race, with lando in p3. you jump into his arms, feeling tears well up in your eyes at him being there to celebrate your first win with you, just like you were there for his.

he makes sure you know how proud he is of you later in your shared hotel room when he buries his face between your legs, tongue lapping against your pussy, making you cum multiple times before he pulls his mouth away from you.

"love you." lando whispers as he pushes his cock inside of your entrance. "love you so much and im so proud of you." 

you smile and repeat the words back to him.

it's the second to last race of the season and you and lando are battling it out for p2 in the championship, with p1 already secured. it's a relief to be with a teammate who is going to be happy for you if you beat him, and vice versa. there has been no tension so far related to racing, and you know everyone at mclaren is relieved at that. everything is left on the track.

you qualified p5 with lando in p3, and you are pushing hard at the start of the race, quickly catching up with him before you round the first corner, when you feel a bump on your rear, causing you to spin out and hit at least lando, but you think another car as well. it's hard to tell with how fast everything is going.

you brace for the crash into the wall, and thankfully its not your first crash in racing, because your body knows exactly how to prepare for it. you take a deep breath once you stop moving, ears ringing but able to make out the team asking you if you’re okay on the radio.

“i’m okay.” you reply, doing a mental check over every part of your body to make sure you actually were okay. “lando?” you ask.

“also okay.” you let out a breath of relief at the reply, looking around before climbing out of the cockpit, seeing that four cars were ultimately taken out. you rush over to the matching orange car as lando gets out slowly, you can tell he’s also checking over his limbs to make sure nothing is injured and he just couldn’t tell because of the adrenaline. 

“lan.” you call out, and he turns towards you quickly, pulling you into a hug, helmets pressing against each other as you look into his eyes, seeing the fear in his, knowing that it’s all for you.

you head back to the garage with lando to go over the incident, turns out perez hit your rear and sent you spilling into lando, taking out russell as well on the way. you sigh when watching the footage, realizing how quickly that all could have gone wrong. you reach over and squeeze landos hand in your own, making him turn and press his lips to your forehead.

you get questions about it at the press conference next week, of course, but there’s not much more to say beyond what you said post race. again, you’re thankful to have lando there. he has two more seasons in f1 than you do, and you appreciate his tact when answering certain questions while still keeping his personality and humor. 

“next question is for everyone. there has been controversy lately about celebrities during the grid walk. do you support celebrities being on the track during that time and if so, is there anyone you’d like to see on the track?”

the question quickly devolves into what celebrities they want to see, with one driver saying they’d like to see margot robbie because she’s their celebrity crush. when it’s lando’s turn to answer, he turns to look at you, “i see my celebrity crush on the grid every race.”

you laugh and blush, hearing to crowd of reporters give an aww to your boyfriends sweet answer. “what about you, y/n?” “i think it’s fine having celebrities there, they don’t bother me, but maybe it’s a question to ask the team since we are in the car for a good part of it. as for celebrities i’d like to see?” you glance at lando, who quickly recognizes the mischievous glint in your eye. “my celebrity crush is drew starkey, i’d looove to see him.” “hey!” lando says, jabbing his fingers into your side, making you howl with laughter and push his hands away, smiling at him as he shakes his head, but leans in to give you a kiss.

“i love you.” you whisper to him, making sure the microphone is far away from your mouth so it doesn’t get picked up as lewis begins to answer a different question.

“i love you too.” lando says, leaning in and kissing your cheek. you smile happily and look into his blue eyes, knowing that no matter what happens in this final race, or next season, that everything will be good, because you have him by your side.

[theweepingangelofcas]

Eat The Rich, Feed Them to the Cats - Moriarty Bros x Reader

Anyone else in the USA having a crisis? Me too! Let's all maladaptive daydream together that our sweet dear Sherlock boys are with us, on our side.

Title is inspired by a fav nonprofit cat shelter of mine, Wonky Hearts Animal Haven. Please go check them out. They have stories that are truly so heartwarming and uplifting, it's a great distraction.

(No, I do not believe all men are bad. I myself have a male fiance whom I love and trust very much. But the election has left me feeling helpless and scared, as though my rights or my body don't matter. I'm writing this to vent. I respect if your political opinions are different than me, but I ask that you do not attack me in the comments, my dm's, etc)

******************

William Moriarty

You two had been together for years now, since you two were teenagers. You've shared everything. Hopes, dreams, ideals... So when he saw someone try to harass you simply because of your gender? That won't do.

"Oi! Pretty broad!"

The random man's words did little to phase you. You didn't even speed up your footsteps. But your dear William stopped in his tracks.

Oh, yes, that's right. No one had ever been stupid enough to cat call you with him around before.

"Y/N..." his gaze had turned to the man, unblinking, "Did you not hear what that man just so crudely yelled at you?"

You shrugged, stopping in your tracks to try and let him catch up to you. He didn't dare move.

"It's nothing, William. Happens all the time to us ladies."

If you didn't know better, you'd say his eye just twitched.

"Is that so? And here I was, thinking it was mostly noblemen who were the rotten part of our society."

He smiled then. Like his mind wasn't 100% alongside you anymore.

His cane left the ground, being weilded in both hands almost like a baseball bat.

Or, more accurately, perhaps he was holding it like a mace.

It was safe to say, no man went within a few dozen meters of you for quite some time after that. After all, you always had your dear William with you now.

Louis Moriarty

Oh, did you think William would be protective?

Ha!

Louis is SO MUCH WORSE

To be completely fair, he was already practically a guard dog for both you and William. You had been engaged to him for a few months, and each passing day he just wanted to spend more time by your side.

This was how he found out how truly awful some men could be.

You two had boarded a train back to Durham, coming back from a lunch date together. You two had managed to score a semi-private spot in the lunch car, meaning that he could hold you without too much fuss from the rest of society. One hand was in yours, the other wrapped around your waist. You had both ordered drinks, his a sophisticated Earl Grey tea, yours a refreshing seltzer water. That was when your waiter came back up to you both.

"Sir, I know this is quite uncouth of me to say, but the gentleman a few seats down won't stop staring at your lady friend there." He gestured to you, specifically your chest, and you seemed to shrink into your seat instantly.

Louis scowled, "Thank you for informing me. You're dismissed, good sir."

The waiter stepped away, and Louis's grip on you got tighter.

"It's fine, darling. You mustn't fret." You tried to comfort him, but his scowl only deepened.

"I will fret." He turned his head, catching eyes with a man a few booths down. He did, indeed, seem to be staring at you. "And I'm going to teach him to respect others, or die trying."

You saw Louis stand, and approach the man in a terrifying calmness. He shook his hand, and gestured for him to follow him.

If you happened to see a person-shaped figure get thrown out of the train that day, no one has to know.

Albert Moriarty

He understands deep, seething rage. He dealt with it much when he was younger. So he understands that the best way to deal with it, is to take care of it yourself.

Normally, women weren't allowed into a prestigious college. But Albert, with his power and wealth, managed to convince the school that having one woman among its ranks wouldn't hurt. Hence, you being halfway through a science and medicine degree. Albert supported you all the way through. Your husband truly was a lovely, understanding man.

"It was fascinating, my love!" Your eyes lit up as you opened your textbook to that day's lesson, "We learned about the chambers of the heart, and all the illnesses and diseases that can correlate to it's health. Isn't that so cool!"

His smile widened at seeing you happy, "It certainly is, my dear. Do go on, teach me more about it."

You nodded, eyes bright, about to keep talking before-

"I'm sure anything is fascinating to a woman. But can she even understand it? Why, she should be at home, not trying to educate herself on something she could never possibly understand."

A man had approached you both. His smug grin was enough to dampen your joy immediately.

Albert blinked, his expression blank, before turning his head back to you, "My dear, would you like my walking stick, or do you want to use your textbook? After all, this fine gentleman seems in need of an anatomy lesson."

Your grin came back, "Your walking stick, please. I'd rather not get my favorite chapter dirty."

The man's eyes flew open as you took the wooden cane from Albert, weilding it more like a weapon than an aid.

"Now," The excitement in your expression was back, "I'll give you an anatomy lesson as I break all of your bones in alphabetical order."

[holyblonded]

Okay but Azulita and Estrella playing together in US team? Please give us more details. How camp looks? What playing against Ale looks like? Does azulita help with pranking? And who in national team "adopted" her?

— it’s absolute chaos the moment azulita and estrella walk into camp together. they show up with matching sunglasses, matching duffels, and a terrifying level of synchronized eye contact. people scatter. vibes are dangerously unserious.

— the staff tried to room them together once. just once. after the toothpaste in cleats prank, the midnight dance battle, and the mysteriously disappeared team snacks, they were permanently separated. now they pretend to be upset about it, but everyone knows they just sneak into each other’s rooms anyway.

— azulita fits right in. she’s knew some of the girls better because she had met them before or played against them.

— trinity just grins and says, “cute. another gremlin.” and now azulita has a big sister in trinity who teaches her how to perfectly time goal celebrations just to get under opponents’ skin.

— emily fox and crystal dunn take one look at azulita and decide instantly she’s their child now. azulita pretends she’s too cool for it, but when crystal braids her hair before warmup, she sits very, very still.

— during training games, azulita and estrella play with that eerie, intuitive connection that makes defenders cry. it’s all flicks, cheeky passes, inside jokes in the middle of build-up. estrella does no look backheels and azulita just knows where to be.

— the staff try separating them for balance but it backfires when azulita keeps roasting estrella from the opposite side of the field and they both start playing better. “we’re not competitive,” estrella lies. “we’re just petty.”

— when they play against spain and by extension, ale, it’s dangerous. ale’s captain mode is activated, but estrella just grins at her and calls her “la jefa” before trying to nutmeg her. azulita scores a screamer and blows a kiss.

— ale says she’s proud but texts olga after like, “your daughters are unruly.”

— azulita definitely helps with pranking. she’s subtle, the planner, the quiet execution behind estrella’s chaos. estrella’s the distraction, azulita’s the one who sneaks into lockers and rewrites all the name tags. one time they replaced the entire midfield’s playlist with elevator music.

— the younger players from the you camp follow them like ducklings. julie and macario call them “the terrors.” rose lavelle lets them braid her hair in camp. lynn williams once found both of them hiding in the ice tub at 8am and just walked away like “not my business.”

— off the pitch, it’s surprisingly soft. azulita and estrella both sit with the rookies during meals. they help clean up without being asked. they’re respectful with media, but only just. estrella still says exactly what she wants, azulita just keeps her answers short and abrupt.

— they wear matching boots during international matches. azulita writes “mi gente” on hers. estrella writes “por ella.”

— nobody knows who “ella” is. but azulita does. and that’s enough.