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sports-on-sundays · 1 month

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Okay I figured it out !!! what if y/n is a F1 driver and she’s really close with Charles or lando and is with either Pablo , Fermin , or pedri and they get jealous of how close y/n and Charles or lando are !! And they get into an argument before the Barcelona GP and y/n thinks they won’t be there to see them race but in the end they do go and see y/n get a home podium and they make up !!

surprises in Barcelona / Pedri González

Summary: Pedri x Spanish!F1 driver!girlfriend!reader - When Y/n is in a job in which she's surrounded by nineteen male, handsome hot shots nearly all near long, it's easy for her boyfriend to get a bit jealous.

Warnings: censored cuss, arguing in a relationship, screaming, communication cut off for a while

Requested?: Yes! <3

Author's Note: OMG I LOVE IT. It's kind of funny, because I have an OC much like the reader in this story, so to be honest, that's just what I imagined while writing this.

It all starts with a stupid, petty comment.

Pedri is to the point of practically begging you for some time together, since his schedule is free. But yours isn't. You tried to explain so many times that even though you're back home in Barcelona, and not in the UK, that doesn't mean you don't have work to do before the next race here in Barcelona.

Maybe you're being a bit harsh. Maybe you should sit down with your boyfriend and snuggle him a bit. Let him have you, just for a moment, just for a short break in both of your glittery sporting lives.

But if you were starting to change your mind at all, or feeling any sympathy in the slightest, it's suddenly squashed when that stupid comment comes out of his mouth.

"Yeah, I'm sure you've got a lot of work to do. Since you clearly care about your teammate more than your own boyfriend."

Your head snaps to look at him. "Excuse me? What teammate?"

His thick, dark eyebrows knit together as he comments, crossing his arms. "You know. Your teammate. The one you constantly talk about, and joke around with? You're practically flirting by now."

This is coming as a shocker to you. This is the first time Pedri's ever voiced thoughts such as these. But you clench your jaw. "I'm sorry, but I have no idea why you feel the need to bring Lando into this-"

"Because you're putting him over me! And your job! And your team!"

"No I'm not!" you snap, then taunt a bit, "Oh, is someone getting jealous?"

"I have the right to!" Pedri is starting to get angrier, and his body straightens more. "I see how you nudge him, and hug him after good performances-"

"Everyone does that! I'm not getting mad at you for hugging your teammates after a goal is scored, am I?"

"No, but that's different!"

"In what way? Just because I'm a woman?" your lip curls in annoyance. "So I'm not allowed to have sportsmanship and camaraderie with my team, just because of my gender? Just because my teammate is a man, and I'm a woman? Give me a f*cking break!"

Pedri stands up, his face reddening, and now his voice is raised as he snaps back, "It's not that! It's that you're doing all that, and not giving me any attention! You spend more time with Norris these days than you do with me!"

"It's because he's amongst me in my job! I can't really avoid him!"

"Maybe you should try separating your job from your personal life and show me some love for once! Give me back some of the energy I give to you!" he suddenly screams.

There's a few seconds of silence, but your heart feels cold as you respond, "So I'm not allowed to have friends, then? I have to give my everything to you, and only you? Well, at least Lando doesn't expect anything more from me than what I can give."

"Yeah, and that's because you're giving him so much! Why don't you consider me?"

"Why don't you consider me?" you suddenly yell, before slamming the door of his flat shut and leaving, your head spinning with irrational thoughts.

Lando isn't just your teammate. He's also your friend. And a good friend, at that. But you figure it's hard for anyone who really knows Lando not to like him.

Now he catches you in the McLaren garage, before the first practice session of the Barcelona Grand Prix weekend. It's been a week since the argument with Pedri, and over that week, your conscience has been killing you. You tried to text him twice, but didn't get a response, and you're too nervous to call, because you don't want to face the fact that he could just decide not to pick up.

But your heart and head are aching, and clearly it shows on your face, because suddenly you feel a friendly slap on your back as Lando says, "It's your home race weekend, Y/n. Look a bit more alive!"

You shrug and force a smile. "I know. Just got some things on my mind."

"Something bad happen?" he inquires, his eyebrow cocking up a bit.

"Not really," you shrug.

As if reading your mind, Lando asks, "Will your boyfriend be able to make it this weekend?"

This question makes your head swarm.

Will he? I mean, if he's ignoring me now, why would he bother to come to the Grand Prix?

Maybe he's too busy for me, like I was for him.

You swallow as you feel a pang of guilt deep in your chest.

"Uh, I don't know... I don't think so," you say, clearing your throat.

Lando continues looking at you expectantly with big eyes, as if thinking you're going to elaborate on that. But when you don't he says with a little frown, "Well, why not? He lives in Barcelona." Lando is, obviously, aware of which famous football player is your boyfriend.

You shrug a little. "It's a long story, to be honest. But I'm fine, Lando. Don't worry. Besides, I think the best thing right now is to just focus on racing, you know?"

Lando nods slowly, not seeming fully convinced, but says, "Alright, then. Whatever you think."

You nod as he gives you another reassuring slap on the back and walks on.

You sigh.

Just have to switch my brain off into racing mode. See all those Spanish fans cheering me on.

I've got all of McLaren, including Lando, backing me.

And I've got all of Spain, except for maybe Pedri González, my own boyfriend, backing me, too.

When you get into that car, it's like the world stops moving. In all three practices, and then in qualifying. There's no worrying about jealousy, relationships, or public image. All there is is you, the car, the speed, and the other cars you, ultimately, need to beat.

All there is is the wind, the throttle, the limits you're pushing to break past.

The speed.

It's why you love racing.

You finish qualifying in fourth, and when Lando sees you in the garage, he gives you a high five and a friendly half-hug before saying, "Starting 3-4 for the race. Good job."

You smile and nod. "Thanks. You know how it is, though." You can tell he's just trying to cheer you up. He's not actually this estatic about starting in third and fourth.

"Yeah, yeah," he nods, putting on his cap. "But, hey." He makes eye contact with you. "Maybe your boy will show up for the race, at least?"

You shrug, looking down and respond simply, "Maybe." You doubt it.

You're sure you'll make it up. The next time you see him, you'll fix everything. Apologize, and explain.

It just kind of sucks that this had to all go down right before one of the few races on the calendar that Pedri can actually make it to. Your home race.

Before the race, you text Pedri.

It's left on sent, just like the other two.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" you demand to Lando, who is basically walking around the paddock like a smug little contained jar of sunshine and rainbow, being cheeky because clearly he knows something no one else does.

You know the bratty look in his eyes.

He seems to find a ridiculous amount of pleasure in this question from you as he comments, his voice drawn out in a sing-song tone, "Nothing..."

You roll your eyes and tease, "What, some cute girl asked you out? Or, what, you heard Red Bull talking about some kind of terrible problem with their car? Or, what, you overheard the full and complete ultimate strategy of Ferrari in order to take us down?"

Lando's grin grows. "All of those things would be pretty great, but unfortunately, none of them are true. Simply, nothing at all is different," he comments, like the complete and utter dork he is.

How could Pedri ever think I'd chose this loser over him? you ask yourself in rueful disbelief.

"Alright, then don't tell me!" you say with a shrug, showing you really aren't going to waste any more energy with him.

"Good, because otherwise I might slip the secret!"

At this, your eyebrows furrow, but when you glance back at Lando, he waves his hand and adds, "You'll figure it out soon enough."

For a while, you ponder on what Lando could have been talking about, but soon you're putting on your helmet, and forgetting everything.

Because you have a chance to podium at your home race, and you intend to do it.

So you pull out on track. Drive the formation lap, entering the zone, letting everything but racing slip from your mind.

Feeling the pounding of your heart and the pulsing adreniline.

And then, before you know it, it's-

Lights out, and away we go!

"So, what place is that, then?" you question over the radio in the last lap.

"Uh, that's P2, Y/n. P2," comes the response back.

It hits you. "What? I didn't even know!" you laugh high, actually so shocked. "When did that happen?"

You hear your engineer laugh and say, "Do you want the whole run down of the race right now, or later?"

You laugh to yourself as you see the chequered flag waving ahead. "And Lando?"

"Uh, Lando go P3," answers your engineer.

"Wait, really? No way! Oh, yeah, I guess so, if I got P2!"

"Well, I'm starting to doubt you even drove the race, but if you did- great job today. That's a double podium for the team and some great points. Enjoy the podium."

You laugh to yourself and say, "I could only do it because of all the home fans cheering me on. The crowd is great!"

"Oh, and that's driver of the day, too."

"Yes! Vamos, baby. Great job, everyone, and thanks to everyone who voted for me."

When you get out of the car and flip up your visor, your heart is already pounding in your chest. Lando high fives you, and then gestures to the McLaren team, ready to greet their two drivers at the finish line.

But you can see the cheeky grin still lingering from before in Lando's eyes, and now you can see exactly why.

"Pedri?!" you scream with a (quite terrible) voice crack. Immediately you run to him, and he grabs you, taking you into his arms as you feel a couple hands from your teammates patting your shoulders and helmet in congratulations.

Pedri kisses your helmet, right where the little Spanish flag on it is. He's grinning, and says, right to you, "I'm so proud of you. And I'm sorry- I wanted it to be a surprise."

You grin and respond, "We can talk stuff over right now. Right now, I've got champagne to spray, no?"

Pedri grins back and nods in agreement. "Go for it."

In the cool down room, you corner Lando and snap, "So that's what you were being so smug about! Had you seen Pedri before the race?"

Lando grins and nods, sitting down in Max's P1 chair, not caring. "Yeah. He told me not to tell you about him being there. A surprise."

"He can speak enough English to tell you that?" You've, obviously, always just spoken to him in Spanish.

Lando chuckles and says, "Well, enough."

On the podium, when you pop the champagne, you spray it at Lando, and Lando sprays it back at you and Max. Adreniline and joy fills you as you then take a swig from the bottle and rub the stinging champagne from your eyes, feeling the wetness of it all over you.

Once you've gotten off the podium and are back in the garage, you spot Pedri, and immediately run to him. You wrap your arms around him and kiss his cheek, and say right away, "I'm so sorry, Pedri."

He hugs you back, but doesn't respond.

"I've been feeling so terrible about what happened all week... And then with the silent treatment, too..." You sigh. "I should have given you some time. I could have spared even fifteen minutes, and it would have been good for both of us. I was such an idiot, putting my own thing above you. And even if I had so much to do I couldn't spare some time for you, it was things I could still work on with you. I'm sorry. I was just being a petty idiot, and there's no reason for it."

Pedri hugs you tighter, and as you speak, it feels like there's a weight being lifted off your chest. But now it's Pedri's turn to let off the weight on his chest. "It's okay... I... I forgive you. Thank you. But I was an idiot, too. It's just... I know Norris is your friend, and I don't want you to stop having friends. It just hurts when I know you see him more than you see me. But I shouldn't have even implied you would intentionally put him over me. I'm just... It's hard not to get jealous, but I need to get better. Just... it'd be nice if you... well... if you can help it, don't constantly be hugging him and stuff, you know? But over all, I was an ass, and I'm sorry. I just took my jealousy and anger out when you said you were too busy- That was wrong of me. I'm sorry for not responding to your texts, too... The first few days, I was still too stuck in my thoughts to, but then I had the idea to surprise you at the Grand Prix, and... Well, were you surprised to see me?"

You smile softly, wholeheartedly accepting his apology and understanding his point of view much more after having a week of thinking and stressing over what had happened. But now you respond, "I was perfectly surprised. I'm so glad you came, Pedri, to see me..." Now you're beaming at him.

He grins back, stroking your cheek. "I'd never, ever miss my amazing racing girlfriend's home race!"

"I know, but..."

He comments, "It was an amazing drive. For you and Norris."

"Oh, quit calling him 'Norris'! He's my friend, which means he's yours, too, whether you like it or not!"

Pedri chuckles but accepts it. "Alright, alright. But now- am I allowed to treat Miss P2 to something sweet?"

"What do you have in mind?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He smirks and says with a wink, "It's a surprise. Are you okay with a second one for today?"

You laugh a little, but nod. "I don' know if anything could be better than simply the surprise of seeing your handsome face, but I suppose another surprise would be good."

"Alright, good. But first-" he leans in closer and says softer, "Don't I get a kiss from my little winner?"

You roll your eyes and say, "I'm neither little or a winner, not today."

"Ah, but you're little compared to me," he comments, referring to you being shorter than him, "and you've certainly won my heart."

"Ah, you're so cliché!" you snap, but lean in, cupping his cheeks, and give him a passionate post-race kiss.