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a couple races ago i saw Pato trying to set Nolan up with a fan, so what if its Pato trying to set Nolan with his younger sister. even better if they both have a “secret” crush on each other
also i love all of your fics, i binged them the other day 🫶
pato the matchmaker — ns6
smau + written blurbs
nolan siegel x !o’ward reader
having pato as your older brother means two things: endless teasing… and endless meddling. lately, he’s been on a mission — not to win another race, but to “find you a nice guy.” his latest target? his teammate, nolan siegel.
the thing is, you’ve already had a quiet, painfully obvious crush on nolan for months. and judging by the way he smiles at you, you’re pretty sure it goes both ways.
too bad pato doesn’t know that — or maybe that’s the real problem.
fc : kat castellano
(a/n) : loved this idea and tysm for reading all my fics! glad you love them💋💋
—
yn_oward
🎵fue mejor — kali uchis ft sza
liked by elbaoward, patriciooward, nolansiegel and 875,500 others.
yn_oward : hay cosas que se tatúan sin tinta💓💋
tagged : patriciooward and elbaoward
—
view 72,000 other comments.
patriciooward : big flexer over here
liked by yn_oward
↳ yn_oward : REAL RICH BITCH. period
liked by patriciooward
↳ elbaoward : miss nunn was not playin
liked by patriciooward and yn_oward
↳ username000 : did you guys convince pato to watch baddies??
↳ elbaoward : it took zero convincing. id say maybe he even convinced us to watch it
liked by patriciooward and yn_oward
↳ yn_oward : patito es un chismoso
liked by elbaoward and patriciooward
elbaoward : forever living for our giant room service orders + sex in the city marathon days🩵 love you mi vidaaaa
liked by yn_oward
↳ yn_oward : best sissy in the world 🥹 love youuuuu
liked by elbaoward
↳ patriciooward : where was my invite??
↳ yn_oward : you were across the country driving at high speeds
↳ patriciooward : still would’ve liked an invite
↳ yn_oward : ok king my bad. we will facetime you and set you up on the table next time
liked by elbaoward and patriciooward
emillerosenqvist : obsessed with you 😻😻
liked by yn_oward
↳ yn_oward : my angel!!!! miss you❤️❤️
username15 : omg girl kali in the likes
↳ yn_oward : wait what ??? don’t play. i might faint
↳ yn_oward : OH MY GOD ITS REAL
↳ patriciooward : way to keep cool pequeño
↳ kaliuchis : nothing better than a pretty girl with good music taste 💋
↳ yn_oward : KALIIIIIIIII<3
↳ elbaoward : this is somehow still better than the first time yn acknowledged nolan
liked by patriciooward and nolansiegel
↳ nolansiegel : i have been silent this entire time. why am i suddenly catching strays????
liked by elbaoward, patriciooward and yn_oward
nolansiegel : 10/10 post
liked by yn_oward and patriciooward
↳ patriciooward : there it is
davidmalukas : norbi>>>>>>pato
liked by yn_oward and patriciooward
↳ yn_oward : agreed
—
When Pato texts you, “Lunch? Usual spot?”, you don’t think twice. Lunch with your brother isn’t unusual—if anything, it’s part of your weekly routine whenever he’s in town. So you throw on something casual but still cute, grab your sunglasses, and head out.
The restaurant is buzzing when you arrive, warm light spilling over polished wooden tables. You spot Pato immediately—he’s standing just inside, grinning like he knows something you don’t. Which, in your experience, is never a good sign.
“Hey,” he greets you, leaning in for a quick hug and planting a kiss on your cheek. “You’re early.”
“I’m exactly on time,” you correct, raising a brow. “Which, by your standards, means I’m early.”
He smirks. “Fair.” Then, as if it’s the most casual thing in the world, he adds, “Oh, by the way—Nolan’s here.”
Your stomach flips, but you keep your face neutral. Nolan Siegel. Your brother’s teammate. A friend. Someone you’ve spent enough time around to know he’s smart, easy to talk to, and annoyingly good-looking in that unassuming, boy-next-door way. Someone you maybe—just maybe—have had a small crush on for months.
And sure enough, there he is, sitting at the table in the corner, looking up from his phone with that soft smile that makes your chest tighten.
“Hey,” he says when you approach, standing to pull out your chair like some kind of old-school gentleman. “Nice to see you.”
“You too,” you reply, hoping your voice doesn’t sound as flustered as you feel.
Pato slides into the seat across from you, all casual charm. For about five minutes, the three of you chat—racing updates, travel schedules, harmless banter. Then, right as the drinks arrive, Pato’s phone buzzes. He glances at it, then frowns dramatically.
“Gotta take this,” he says, standing up. “Work stuff. Be right back.”
You watch him walk away, phone pressed to his ear, and then—you swear—you see him duck into the side alley instead of actually talking to anyone. Typical.
Nolan chuckles, shaking his head. “I think he ditched us.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you say, rolling your eyes, but your heart is already beating faster. Alone time with Nolan isn’t exactly a bad thing.
From there, the conversation just… flows. You talk about the cities you’ve both been to recently, favorite restaurants, the ridiculousness of some IndyCar travel schedules. He tells you a funny story about his first time meeting Norbi, and you counter with one about how Pato once accidentally wore two different shoes to an event.
You don’t even realize how much time has passed until the food arrives and you’re both still leaning toward each other across the table, completely absorbed. Every now and then, your knees brush under the table, and neither of you moves away.
By the time Pato finally reappears—forty-five minutes later—you and Nolan are laughing over some inside joke you didn’t have an hour ago. Pato looks between you, his expression smug in a way that makes you want to throw your napkin at him.
“What’d I miss?” he asks, sitting down like nothing happened.
“Nothing,” you say quickly, shooting him a warning look.
But the way Nolan smiles at you across the table, warm and a little shy, tells you Pato missed quite a bit.
—
After lunch, you and Pato walk back to his car. He’s unusually quiet, which is suspicious, because Pato is never quiet unless he’s plotting something.
You glance at him as you slide into the passenger seat. “What?”
“What, what?” he asks, starting the car, his voice all fake innocence.
“You have that look on your face.”
“What look?”
“The ‘I’m up to something look.’”
He smirks, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he pulls out into traffic. “So… you and Nolan were really talking, huh?”
You narrow your eyes. “We were having a conversation. It’s called being friendly.”
“Friendly,” he repeats, drawing the word out like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “Looked more like flirty to me.”
You groan, leaning your head back against the seat. “You were gone for almost an hour, Pato. What did you expect us to do? Stare at each other in silence?”
“I mean, you probably wouldn’t have minded,” he says, grinning.
“Pato—”
“Hey, I’m not judging! I like Nolan. He’s a good guy. Tall. Drives fast. Knows how to be a gentleman…”
“Can you not narrate my life like you’re casting me in The Bachelorette?”
He laughs, clearly enjoying himself. “All I’m saying is, if you two end up together, I’m taking credit. Best brother and teammate ever. They’ll probably make a Netflix special about it.”
You roll your eyes, but there’s no stopping the smile tugging at your lips. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe,” he says, shooting you a sidelong glance. “But I’m also right.”
—
The next day at the paddock, you’re wandering through the Arrow McLaren hospitality area with Elba, sipping your iced matcha and enjoying the rare bit of calm before things get busy. You’ve got your favorite cap on — bright orange with Pato’s number stitched across the front — when you hear his voice behind you.
“Hey, that’s my hat,” he calls, walking up with his own hat conspicuously missing.
“It’s my hat,” you correct, glancing over your shoulder. “Bought it myself.”
“Yeah, but it’s got my number on it. I should be wearing it,” he says, already tugging it off your head before you can protest.
“Pato!” you swat at his arm, but he’s grinning like he’s about to cause trouble. “Give it back.”
He holds it just out of reach. “Nah, I’ll trade you.”
Before you can ask trade for what, he pulls another cap from behind his back — one that looks suspiciously new. Bright orange again… but this time with Nolan’s number stitched across the front.
You freeze. “Seriously?”
Elba, standing beside you, is already snickering. “Oh, this is evil. I love it.”
Pato plops the Nolan hat onto your head before you can stop him. “There. Much better. Now everyone knows who you’re really here for.”
“Pato!” your voice is half annoyed, half laughing, but before you can rip it off, you hear someone clearing their throat.
You turn — and of course, it’s Nolan, standing just a few feet away, looking like he’s trying very hard not to smile too widely.
“Uh… nice hat,” he says, his voice warm but a little shy. There’s the tiniest flush creeping across his cheeks, and you swear his eyes flicker to Pato in a really? you did this? kind of way.
You pull at the brim, trying to hide your own smile. “Apparently it’s the latest fashion.”
Pato, meanwhile, is smirking like a cat who just knocked something off a shelf. “See? He likes it.”
Nolan rubs the back of his neck, eyes darting anywhere but Pato. “Yeah. It looks… good on you.”
Elba leans over to whisper just loud enough for both you and Nolan to hear, “You two are ridiculous.”
You give her a light shove, but you can’t help the way your stomach flips at Nolan’s words. And if Pato notices the matching smiles on both your faces as you all head toward the garages, well… he doesn’t say a word. But the smug look he’s wearing says everything.
—
It’s a couple hours before the race, and the paddock is buzzing — crew members moving carts, mechanics double checking gear, fans lining up for glimpses of the drivers. You’ve slipped away from the main hospitality area to where the team’s cars are prepped, wandering between the sleek orange machines.
You’re crouched beside one of the cars, idly tracing a finger along the edge of the front wing, when Nolan walks up, helmet tucked under his arm.
“Hey,” he greets, that soft smile immediately tugging at his lips. “You’re here early.”
You shrug, standing. “Wanted to see the chaos before it really starts.”
He laughs quietly. “This is the calm part.”
You roll your eyes, but you can’t help smiling at him. “You nervous?”
He leans against the pit wall, looking thoughtful. “Not really. I mean… maybe a little. But it’s different when I race here,” he says, gesturing toward the team garage. “Feels like you’re surrounded by people who want you to do well, you know?”
“Yeah,” you say softly, then add, “For what it’s worth, I always want you to do well.”
The words slip out before you can stop them, but instead of freezing up, Nolan just looks at you — really looks at you — and smiles like you just made his whole weekend. “That means a lot.”
You both drift into easy conversation, trading little stories— him talking about a funny fan encounter that morning, you telling him about the time Pato got locked out of his hotel room in just a towel. Every now and then, your arms brush when you lean closer to hear each other over the noise, and it sends little sparks up your spine.
What you don’t notice is that, a few feet away behind one of the tool cabinets, Pato and Christian Lundgaard are not being subtle about eavesdropping.
“Look at them,” Pato mutters, leaning just far enough to peek around the corner.
“I am looking,” Christian says, smirking. “I think you’ve officially lost your wingman job. They don’t need you anymore.”
“I started this,” Pato says, pointing between you and Nolan like he’s narrating a nature documentary. “Without me, they’d still be making awkward small talk.”
Christian snorts. “Pretty sure they’d figure it out eventually.”
Pato shushes him. “Shh. This is the good part. Watch.”
They peek again just in time to see Nolan take your coffee cup when you’re gesturing with your hands and set it on the wall next to him, keeping it safe. You thank him with a smile that’s a little too warm for “just friends,” and Nolan ducks his head, his ears going pink.
“Oh my god, he’s blushing,” Christian whispers, grinning like it’s the best gossip he’s heard in weeks.
Pato’s grin turns smug. “Told you. They’re into each other.”
Unfortunately for them, you choose that exact moment to glance over your shoulder… and spot both of them halfway hidden behind a tire stack.
“Are you spying on us?” you call, narrowing your eyes.
Christian chuckles, but Pato doesn’t even try to deny it. “Spying? No. Supervising? Yes.”
Nolan just shakes his head, clearly fighting a smile. “Your brother’s unbelievable.”
“Tell me about it,” you sigh, but when your eyes meet Nolan’s again, the warmth there makes you forget all about the two idiots in the corner.
—
yn_oward
🎵too fast — sonder
liked by nolansiegel, elbaoward, patriciooward and 920,000 others.
yn_oward : my recents…but in b&w🏁
tagged : elbaoward and nolansiegel
—
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alexanderrossi: so are we just ignoring the flowers? or…? 👀
↳patooward: exactly. who sent them??
↳ yn_oward : rossi pls. i thought you stopped the whole big brother act after you left
↳ alexanderrossi : it never stops princess. NOW SPILL
elbaoward : sushiiiiiiii 🍱
liked by yn_oward
↳ yn_oward : endless gossip and sushi with you is all i need in life
liked by elbaoward
↳ patriciooward : were you guys talking about me?🤨
↳ yn_oward : you make it so easy
liked by elbaoward
lungaardofficial : I don’t think I have ever seen Nolan smile like that…
liked by yn_oward and nolansiegel
↳ nolansiegel : yn was behind the camera
liked by lungaardofficial, patriciooward, elbaoward and yn_oward
↳ patriciooward : new brother in law loading…
kamilajurkus : the prettiest angel<3
liked by yn_oward
↳ yn_oward : i love youuuuuu❤️🔥
patriciooward : guys pls stop hyping her up. she is already insufferable
liked by yn_oward
↳ yn_oward : says the one who was barking at himself in the mirror
liked by elbaoward, nolansiegel and lungaardofficial
nolansiegel : 🤠💐
liked by yn_oward
—
The soft clatter of chopsticks and gentle hum of conversation fill the restaurant as you and Elba slide into a cozy booth near the window. The place smells of fresh seaweed and soy sauce, and the warm light reflects off the polished wooden table, making everything feel intimate and relaxed — a perfect spot for one of your favorite traditions: sushi dates with your older sister.
Elba orders your usual—spicy tuna rolls, miso soup, and edamame—and somehow manages to convince you to try a new dish, even though you’re stubbornly loyal to your favorites. She’s got that infectious smile that always makes it impossible to say no.
As you wait for the food to arrive, Elba leans back, watching you with that teasing sparkle in her eyes. “So… spill. How are things with Nolan?”
You nearly choke on your sip of green tea, coughing awkwardly while Elba laughs softly. “I mean, it’s not like anything’s happening.”
Elba raises an eyebrow. “Come on. You’re the worst at lying. And honestly, I’ve been waiting for you to say something for weeks now.”
You sigh, feeling your cheeks warm as you fiddle with your chopsticks. “Okay, fine. I’m… kind of hardcore crushing on him.”
Elba’s grin widens. “Kind of?”
“Well, yeah, ‘kind of’ because I’m trying not to freak out about it every time he texts me. Or smiles at me. Or, you know, exists.”
Elba reaches across the table and squeezes your hand gently. “That’s called being totally smitten.”
You laugh, finally feeling comfortable enough to relax. “I know. It’s just weird. Pato’s always messing around, and I don’t want things to get awkward.”
Elba shakes her head, her tone softening. “YN, you deserve to be happy. And if Nolan makes you smile like that? You have to let yourself feel it. Besides…” She taps her temple with a knowing look. “I already knew. You’re not exactly subtle.”
You pretend to glare, but inside, you’re touched. “You’re impossible.”
“Maybe. But I’m your sister. It’s my job.”
The sushi arrives then, neatly arranged and smelling even better than you expected. As you dig into the spicy tuna roll, Elba raises her glass of sake with a wink. “To crushes, sushi, and knowing your family better than you know yourself.”
You clink glasses, feeling grateful for moments like this — where you can be honest, goofy, and totally loved.
—
The team arrives at the hotel for the next race weekend, buzzing with the usual energy of unpacking bags, checking in, and stealing last-minute quiet moments before the madness begins. You’re juggling your suitcase and a coffee when Pato sidles up to you with that familiar mischievous grin.
“Hey, so, slight change of plans,” he says, eyes twinkling like he’s about to drop a bombshell.
You raise an eyebrow. “What now?”
“Apparently, the hotel’s overbooked. Like, totally out of rooms.”
Your heart skips a beat. “Wait—what?”
Pato nods solemnly. “Yeah. So, you and Nolan are gonna have to share a room.”
You blink, trying to keep your face neutral. “You’re joking.”
“Nope.”
You glance around, but Pato’s teammates are busy with their own things, none paying any attention. You spot Nolan nearby, chatting with a mechanic, and decide to confront him before this becomes a full-blown crisis.
You catch Nolan just as he’s turning a corner. “Hey,” you say, keeping your voice light, “Pato told me we have to share a room because the hotel ran out of rooms. Did you hear anything about that?”
He blinks, clearly surprised, then chuckles softly. “Yeah, I heard something about that. Sounds like classic Pato to me.”
You laugh, relief washing over you. “Same. But just in case, what do you want to do? I mean, if we actually have to share…”
Nolan scratches the back of his neck, a little shy smile tugging at his lips. “I can totally sleep on the floor if you want.”
You burst out laughing. “You? On the floor? No way. You’re here to race, you need a proper bed.”
He grins, shrugging. “Just trying to be considerate.”
“Well, lucky for you,” you say, “I don’t mind sharing.”
Nolan’s eyes widen, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. The air between you suddenly feels warmer, charged with something unspoken but very real.
Later that evening, you push open the door to the hotel room, and Nolan follows behind, balancing a couple of takeout bags. The room feels surprisingly cozy, with a bed, a small sitting area, and a window overlooking the city lights.
You both settle in, the awkwardness from earlier melting away as you talk quietly over noodles and spring rolls. When it’s finally time to sleep, Nolan glances at the beds, then back at you.
“Are you sure? I can take the floor.”
You shake your head, feeling bolder than usual. “No, you take the bed. I can go squeeze in between Elba and Brent and ruin their night.”
He hesitates, then pats the empty spot beside him. “You can come join me.”
You blink, caught off guard, but then a shy smile spreads across your face. “Okay.”
Sliding under the covers, you nestle close, and Nolan wraps an arm around your shoulders. His warmth seeps into you, and the noise of the hotel fades into the background. As you lie there, side by side, you realize that Pato’s prank might have been the best thing to happen to you this weekend.
—
The soft morning light filters through the curtains as you stir awake, nestled against Nolan’s side. His arm is draped protectively over you, and for a moment, the world feels perfectly still—warm, safe, and just right.
Suddenly, the door swings open with a bang.
“GOOD MORNING, LOVE BIRDS!” Pato’s voice booms as he practically bursts into the room, a wild grin plastered across his face.
You and Nolan jolt apart, eyes wide and half-asleep. Nolan scrambles up, knocking a pillow off the bed, while you pull the blanket up to cover yourself, cheeks flaming red.
Pato strides over, hands on hips, clearly delighted. “Well, well, well, what do we have here? Looks like someone took full advantage of the ‘shared room’ situation!”
Nolan stammers, “Pato! Dude, come on, we were asleep—”
Pato holds up a finger, cutting him off. “I am thrilled to witness this moment firsthand. The great ‘matchmaker’ strikes again!”
You groan, sitting up fully now, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips despite the embarrassment. “Pato, you’re unbelievable.”
Elba suddenly appears in the doorway behind him, sipping her coffee, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Morning! I see the team bonding is going very effective.”
Pato throws an arm around Elba, “I’m basically a genius. You two are adorable. Just admit it.”
Nolan, still blushing, shoots you a shy smile. “Guess Pato’s not done meddling yet.”
You shake your head, laughing. “At least it’s working.”
Pato pulls out his phone like a paparazzi, snapping a quick, teasing photo of the two of you sitting there, tangled in blankets and laughter.
“Don’t worry, I won’t post it… yet.” He winks.
Elba chuckles, “Oh, the blackmail material is real.”
You and Nolan exchange a look, both secretly grateful that maybe this crazy family has just welcomed you in for good.
—
It’s a calm, sunny afternoon, and you’re lounging in your living room with Norbi curled up in your lap. The soft patter of his little paws on the hardwood floor catches your attention just as there’s a gentle knock at the door.
You glance toward the entrance, smile already forming, and scoop Norbi into your arms before padding over to open it.
Standing there is Nolan, a little nervous but unmistakably earnest, holding a bouquet of wildflowers—vibrant colors and a fresh scent that somehow brightens the whole room.
“Hey,” he says, voice warm but a little shaky. “I, uh… brought these for you.”
You step aside, holding the door open wider. “That’s so sweet, Nolan. They’re beautiful.”
He steps in, carefully holding the flowers as if they’re fragile treasures. Norbi immediately sniffs him, then wags his tail, happy to see a friend.
“Looks like Norbi approves,” you joke, setting the dog down so he can circle Nolan’s feet.
Nolan chuckles. “Yeah, he seems to like me more than I deserve.”
You laugh, then motion toward the kitchen. “Come on in. Elba’s around here somewhere.”
As Nolan follows you inside, Elba’s voice calls out from the kitchen, “Well, well! Look who it is!”
You hear her footsteps as she rounds the corner, leaning casually against the counter with a playful grin.
Nolan smiles shyly but holds his ground. “Hi, Elba.”
Elba eyes the bouquet and arches an eyebrow. “Flowers? Are we getting serious, Nolan?”
Nolan blushes but smirks. “I figured it was a good start.”
You shake your head fondly and settle onto the couch, Nolan sitting down next to you. Norbi immediately jumps up and claims Nolan’s lap as his new throne.
After a moment of comfortable silence, Nolan clears his throat and says, “Also… thanks for not making me sleep on the floor that weekend. I appreciated the bed upgrade.”
You grin, nudging him playfully. “I’m a generous roommate.”
He laughs softly. “You’re the best.”
There’s a brief pause, and then Nolan looks at you with that earnest, heart-on-his-sleeve expression that makes your chest flutter.
“So,” he begins, “I was wondering if you’d want to go out with me sometime. Like, a proper date?”
Your smile widens, warmth spreading through you. “I’d love that.”
Elba claps her hands together quietly, eyes sparkling. “Finally! Took you two long enough.”
You glance at her with mock sternness. “Shh! Don’t say it too loud.”
Elba winks. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. But—” she leans in conspiratorially “—don’t tell Pato just yet. Let him stew for a bit. It’s too funny.”
You and Nolan exchange amused looks.
“Deal,” Nolan agrees with a grin.
Norbi barks happily, circling your feet like he’s celebrating the good news.
—
The evening air is crisp but comfortable as you and Nolan stroll down a quiet, tree-lined street near the city’s old town. The soft glow of street lamps casts golden pools of light, and the gentle murmur of distant conversations drifts from nearby cafés.
You’re both a little nervous — the kind of butterflies that flutter in your stomach when something feels exciting and new. Nolan’s hands are tucked in his jacket pockets, but every so often, his fingers brush against yours, hesitant but hopeful.
You stop outside a small, cozy restaurant with twinkling fairy lights strung across the patio. Nolan grins, stepping forward to hold the door open for you like a perfect gentleman.
Inside, the atmosphere is warm and intimate, with candlelit tables and soft jazz playing low in the background. You settle into a corner booth, and the conversation flows easily — stories, laughs, shared dreams.
Between bites of perfectly seasoned pasta, you realize how comfortable you feel with him, like you’ve known each other much longer than a few weeks.
After dinner, you decide to take a walk by the river nearby, the city skyline shimmering on the water’s surface. The night feels endless and magical.
Nolan stops beside you on the promenade, looking out over the water. You can feel the quiet tension building — that moment where everything shifts.
He turns to you, eyes searching yours with a tenderness that makes your heart race.
“YN,” he says softly, “I’m really glad we did this.”
You smile, your breath catching. “Me too.”
Without another word, he gently reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. Then, slowly, he leans in.
Your lips meet in a soft, tentative kiss — sweet and shy at first, then deepening as you both relax into it. The world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you beneath the starry sky.
When you finally pull back, Nolan’s cheeks are flushed, and his eyes sparkle with happiness.
“That was… perfect,” he whispers.
You laugh quietly, resting your head on his shoulder.
“Definitely a night to remember.”
—
The motorhome is a quiet oasis tucked away from the roaring engines and shouting crews of the race weekend. You step inside, the familiar scent of leather and motor oil mingling with the faint hint of Nolan’s cologne. He’s sitting on the worn but comfortable couch, helmet resting beside him, eyes bright but shadowed with that familiar pre-race nervousness.
You close the door gently behind you and pause for a moment, just watching him. The way his fingers drum lightly on his knee, the slight furrow in his brow, the way he bites his lip as he’s lost in thought.
You cross the small space and sit down beside him, your hand reaching out without hesitation to find his. Your fingers weave between his, a simple but grounding touch.
“Hey,” you whisper softly, brushing your thumb over his knuckles.
He looks up, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips. “Hey.”
The hum of activity outside the motorhome feels miles away, replaced by the warm, muted light inside. For a long moment, the two of you just sit there, hands entwined, hearts quietly syncing.
Then Nolan leans in slowly, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m nervous,” he admits in a low voice, almost vulnerable.
You smile gently, fingers tracing delicate patterns along his arm. “You’ll be amazing out there. You’ve trained so hard. You’re ready.”
His breath hitches slightly, and he closes his eyes, letting your words settle.
Without thinking, he tilts his head and presses his lips softly to yours — a kiss that’s gentle and full of reassurance. Your heart swells, and you respond, leaning into the warmth, savoring the moment before the race pulls him away.
Pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, Nolan asks quietly, “Promise me you’ll be here when I get back?”
You squeeze his hand firmly, a smile lighting your face. “Always.”
The tension in the room eases, replaced by the soft intimacy of shared space and quiet promises. Nolan pulls you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist, and you rest your head against his shoulder.
More kisses follow — slow, tender, a sweet farewell without words.
Time feels suspended. For these few minutes, it’s just the two of you, wrapped in warmth and love, safe from the rush of the world outside.
Eventually, Nolan sighs softly, breaking the embrace with a reluctant smile. He reaches for his helmet but pauses, turning back to you one last time.
“Thank you,” he says simply. “For this. For everything.”
“Always. Now go show them what you’ve got.”
He stands, pressing a final kiss to your forehead before grabbing his helmet. You watch him leave the motorhome, heart full but already counting the minutes until he’s back in your arms.
—
The paddock buzzes with activity, but Pato’s attention is locked on one corner of the hospitality area. You’re standing there, chatting and laughing with David — an easy, natural conversation that looks completely innocent.
Except Pato doesn’t see it that way.
He narrows his eyes, jaw tightening. “Wait, wait, wait,” he mutters, voice low but frantic. “That’s not how this was supposed to go.”
Elba, leaning casually against a nearby wall, watches her brother’s slow-motion meltdown with amused eyes.
“He’s freaking out,” she murmurs to herself, smirking.
Pato stalks closer, clearing his throat dramatically just loud enough to grab your attention. “Hey! Hey, YN!”
You turn, smiling politely at Pato, who’s clearly trying to look calm.
“What’s up?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.
Pato rubs the back of his neck, trying to recover. “Nothing, nothing. Just making sure you’re not… too friendly with David. You know, keeping the options open.”
David, caught in the crossfire, chuckles nervously. “I’m just talking racing stuff.”
“That’s what they all say,” Pato replies, shooting you a pointed look.
Elba steps in, arms crossed, voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “Pato, relax. The plan is working perfectly. Nolan’s right over there, looking in love. As always.”
Pato spins around, eyes searching for Nolan, who’s chatting with a mechanic and completely oblivious to the chaos.
Elba shakes her head, grinning. “See? No reason to panic. But you do look adorable when you panic.”
Pato groans dramatically but can’t help the grin tugging at his lips. “Okay, okay, maybe I’m a little too invested.”
You laugh, stepping closer. “Thanks for looking out, big brother. But I think Nolan and I have this.”
Pato pretends to sigh, then winks. “Fine. But if you mess this up, I’m coming for you both.”
Elba chuckles. “Classic Pato.”
—
nolansiegel
liked by yn_oward, elbaoward, patriciooward and 500,000 others.
nolansiegel : i love my gf final boss (we did not tell pato so the comments r off)
you have my heart forever pretty girl 💓
tagged : yn_oward
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user has turned off comments on this post.
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bonus scene 1/2 : pato’s reaction!
The room is dim, cozy, with the soft glow of the TV casting flickering shadows on the walls. You and Nolan are curled up on the couch, wrapped in a shared blanket, watching some random comedy show that’s more background noise than actual focus. Norbi is nestled at your feet, occasionally wagging his tail as if he knows something exciting is happening.
You laugh quietly at a joke Nolan just made, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling that perfect easy comfort that comes with being exactly where you want to be.
Suddenly, the peaceful vibe is shattered by a loud bang as the door bursts open.
“WHAT IS THIS?!” Pato’s voice booms through the room.
You jump, Nolan nearly spills his drink, and Norbi barks in surprise.
Pato strides in, eyes wild with a mix of disbelief and pure excitement, holding his phone up like a trophy.
“I just saw your Instagram!” he announces, waving the screen dramatically. “The hard launch! The kiss! The caption! Where— why— how—?”
You exchange a glance with Nolan, trying not to laugh at your brother’s over-the-top entrance.
“We… we wanted to tell you,” you say, voice full of amusement.
“Wanted to tell me?” Pato echoes, incredulous. “You literally made me find out like a normal person? Off social media?”
Nolan grins sheepishly. “We didn’t mean to keep it a secret.”
“You didn’t mean to?!” Pato throws his hands in the air, pacing. “I have been your official wingman, your hype man, your entire support squad for months! And now you just go public without me?”
You laugh, wrapping an arm tighter around Nolan. “Pato, you’ve been the loudest one in every conversation about this.”
“And the most dramatic,” Nolan adds, smirking.
Pato stops pacing, turns toward both of you, and suddenly his expression softens into something warm and goofy.
“But honestly…” He pulls you both into a bear hug, squeezing tight. “I am so proud. You two are perfect. And Nolan,” he says, pulling back just enough to look Nolan in the eye, “you’re officially my brother-in-law now. Congratulations, man.”
Nolan’s eyes widen, a mix of surprise and pure happiness flooding his face.
“Wait, does that mean you have to invite me to all family dinners now?” he asks with a laugh.
Pato grins. “You better believe it.”
You grin at the two of them, feeling a warm glow in your chest. The chaos, the teasing, the love — it’s all part of this wild, beautiful mess that somehow feels exactly like home.
Norbi barks again, as if to say, “Count me in too.”
And with that, the three of you settle back onto the couch — this time with Pato wedged in between you, laughing louder than the TV as the comedy show plays on.
—
bonus scene 2/2 : nolan has family dinner with his new family!
The villa is buzzing with that familiar kind of energy only an O’Ward family gathering can summon. Laughter echoes off the walls, kids darting between chairs, and somewhere nearby, Norbi is enthusiastically chasing a tennis ball across the terrace. Nolan’s a little out of his element, but he’s holding his own — mostly — and definitely earning his place at the table.
You’re perched on the edge of your seat, elbow resting lightly on the wooden table as Pato launches into his latest racing anecdote, complete with dramatic hand gestures and a few exaggerated sound effects. Elba is across from you, trying not to laugh but failing spectacularly, while your parents are nodding along, clearly entertained.
Nolan’s just taken a sip of his drink when Pato spots him and grins mischievously.
“So, Nolan,” Pato says, leaning in like he’s about to spill state secrets, “how’s the ‘brother-in-law’ training going? Any progress on mastering the art of salsa dancing yet? You know, it’s mandatory.”
Nolan chokes on his drink, coughing while you stifle a giggle. “I think I need a few more lessons before I can take on that title.”
Elba smirks. “Don’t worry, Nolan, we’ll give you a crash course. The first part is to survive a family dinner.”
Just then, your little cousin zooms past, accidentally knocking Nolan’s glass over. The red wine cascades in slow motion, and everyone freezes for a split second before erupting into a mix of gasps and laughter.
“No worries,” Nolan says, grabbing a napkin and laughing it off like a pro. “Guess I’m earning my stripes tonight.”
Your papà claps Nolan on the back. “You’re doing fine. Just wait until the game. That’s when we really see what you’re made of.”
The conversation shifts to plans for the next day’s beach outing, with Pato insisting on teaching everyone how to properly throw a frisbee while Elba debates fiercely over the best spot for accessories.
As you take a bite of the freshly grilled carne asada and spicy salsa, you catch Nolan’s eye, sharing a quiet smile that says, I’m all in.
Later, as the sun dips below the horizon, you all gather on the terrace, Norbi sprawled contentedly at your feet. Pato pulls out his phone, trying to get a group selfie with everyone in frame.
“C’mon, guys, say cheese!” he calls.
The photo ends up a glorious mess of half-closed eyes, silly faces, and Nolan’s infectious grin front and center.
Elba nudges you. “See? He’s officially one of us now.”
You squeeze Nolan’s hand. “Definitely.”
And as the laughter and chatter continue under the stars, you know this is the kind of chaotic, imperfect, joyful family moment you’ll treasure forever.
friends, besties, worsties, davids, and meow meows of the jury. i have a tale for you. while i claim to be no bard (like saph, the queen of very long dramatic tumblr stories that make your heart weep), i must spin a wee bit of yarn in the form of a story. what story? a story of the green cake.
we shall, as most stories do, start almost at the beginning.
the date? january 2nd.
the time? late.
the occasion? saph comes home the third.
the problem? i have no butter or sugar.
now, saph's birthday was recently, so like any other best bud i said i was making a cake. i believe my exact words were 'i'm making you a cake whether you like it or not."
now, gang, i must level with you. this is the fourth cake i've made in my life. i am a reasonably good baker (i can bake a Mean Loaf of Bread), but i'm not a very experienced baker. 3/4 cakes were reasonably good, and only one was just slightly off. so, my track record is mixed, but i am hopeful.
now, let me take you to the present.
i am sitting at my dining room table, typing this post. i am wearing a shirt covered in flour, the green cake is in the oven.
how did i get here?
well, we won't go to the beginning. we've already seen what was basically the beginning, with me having no butter or sugar. the real story begins the morning of january 3rd. which is today. which is when saph comes home, expecting a green cake. as most reasonably well adjusted people do when their roommates parents are visiting, i stressed cleaned the entire apartment at 4am, after realizing the mice in my walls are fucking. i did not leave them a condom. i did not have one that would fit them. i can only hope they have plan b. so naturally, i went to bed at 6am.
and i still had no sugar or butter for the green cake for saph.
and i needed to get started on this cake before 10am, or saph would be here before it was finished.
and i went to bed at 6am. so naturally i set my 9:00, 9:02, 9:04, 9:06 alarms, and hoped i'd lock in when i woke up.
friends, i hate to admit it, but i did not lock in. nay, i slept through all of my alarms and woke up at roughly 9:45. it was cold, damp, and the mice were still probably fucking. i threw my hair into a messy bun, and ran downstairs, only to find my mom was selling me to one direction.
jk. it was far worse.
because saph said she had sent me something.
what did saph send me?
a full poster of david malukas! do i know why? no! but he lives in my kitchen now, providing me with mental support. thanks david!
so, i begin to make the cake after laughing for about 10 minutes about why david is now in my apartment. it starts off surprisingly well. i have not forgotten the salt.
everything is normal.
until i remember.
the cake needs to be green.
why? idk thats what saph said she wanted so i am just going to do what i was told to do and make this damn cake green.
but its now late in the process, and if there is one thing i have learned in all my years of watching the great british baking show with my mom, it is to never over beat your cake.
and my cake, right now, was perfect. trust me. i ate plenty of dough to know it was wonderful.
so now i am trying to figure out how to make the most perfect shade of nico rosberg green, feeling a bit like an alchemist. david malukas is staring me down. my time grows shorter and shorter with each beat.
and then, gang, i had to give up on this being nico rosberg green. i did not want to kill my cake. my green cake. my now mint-green cake that i am baking for saph. so naturally i'm like, okay, time to pour this.
easy, right?
WRONG.
so one thing to know about me is i suck at cutting things.
it's unfortunately a key ingredient in cake making that you have a stupid little circle on the bottom of your cake tins. i cut it the best i could. which was bad. so i'm already fighting demons trying to get the stupid parchment paper from sliding every which way, and then, my friends, i realized something horrible.
the batter had not mixed at the bottom. so now i was fighting even more demons and trying not to get loose flour in my cake.
i think i succeeded. only time will tell. david is watching. the cake is almost done.
i am setting the green cake free.
look upon him now, and weep. the green cake prevails! even though he doesn't look very green yet.
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hi there guys, gals, and pals! i decided to make my very own guide to indycar for everyone who maybe wants to get into it but doesn't know where to begin!
this is just part 1! part 2 will be here!
you may be wondering why I'm starting with the drivers first...but truthfully WHY start watching or following something if you can't find at least one person you want to support
also, i of course can't put everything about everyone on here or it would absolutely be like out of hand long, so i just tried to highlight some fun facts, stats, and their past driving experiences/series prior to indycar!
“go to hell” is boring. it’s predictable. ‘i hope a driver you like gets a mclaren contract’ is real. it’s possible. it’s terrifying. it just won’t stop happening to me
