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jujusdiary · 1 month

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RUFFLED SHEETS - cl16

pairing- charles leclec x fem!reader warning- smutttt ( wrap it before you tap it pooks) , dirty words (frenchie french) porn with no plot :) lowk reader's first time riding ??? idk yall does that count genre- established relationship summary- missing charles when he's away is a recurrent feeling. question is, what happens when he comes home to find you in his shirt ? this is not proofread sorry for any mistakes english is not my first language les copains :)

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It was no surprise that you were alone for yet another weekend. Not that you minded it, it felt nice to be alone sometimes. But you had to admit, spending the weekend with Charles was always more fun than watching him spend his weekend without you on the TV.

You were sat on your couch, the blanket draped over your knees, your eyes heavy with sleep, Charles shirt heavy on your shoulders. Miami was always the toughest race for you to keep up with, seeing as though the time difference with Monaco was always so huge. But you stuck through, and in the end it was worth it, because you got to see Lando cross the line first for the first time in his career, and you got to see your boyfriend bring it home third. From the look on his face, you could tell he was happy for Lando, but that p3 was not the result he was expecting- nor hoping for. You shot Lando a quick congrats text, who responded with a flurry of misspelled, clearly drunken texts of different variations of the words "thank you, love you, wish you could've been there" instead reading "tjanl yio, lobe yiu, qisj yio xouldvr beem tjete". It took you a while to decipher it, but when you finally did, it brought a soft smile to your face. It was obvious the young boy you had gotten close to had not even waited a minute after that podium to go out with his friends and celebrate. Your phone buzzes by your side as you yawn, cracking your neck. You pick our phone up and squint your tired eyes at the screen.

"I'll be home by tomorrow night, ma chérie. Je t'aime, fait de beaux rèves." I love you, sweet dreams. You read out loud, rubbing your eyes. You got up from the couch and switched the tv off and ventured into your room, craving the comfort of your bed. Charles's shirt reached far enough down to the middle of your thighs, so you had assumed when you slipped it on hours ago (after remembering he had left his signature red shirt here as he didn't need it because of the blue shirts for miami) that you didn't need shorts, and now was no different, so you simply slid into bed and cuddled yourself into your pillow and letting yourself succumb into sleep.

When Charles walks in, almost twelve hours early because he was planning on surprising you by getting the first flight home, the sun hadn't even gone up yet. The apartment is quiet when he steps in, and he expected you to be asleep on the couch, still watching the TV. He's confused when he doesn't spot you, dropping his bags by the doorway and venturing further into the apartment, and when he finally reaches the room, he carefully pries it open. The moonlight is gushing in through the windows, illuminating your body. Your hair is sprawled over your back, your shoulders rising softly in sleep. Charles smiles at your sleeping state, quickly, ridding himself of any airport sullied clothes and slipping in next to you, his chest bare, sweatpants hanging low on his waist. At the sudden dip of the mattress beside you, you jolt awake, turning to face him.

The look on your face makes his heart melt.

You look so tired, but so happy to see him. Your eyes light up, and he practically melts into your touch as your hands find his cheeks and you sling a thigh over his middle, humming softly as his arms bunch up around your waist.

"Hi, mon amour. Surprise." He whispers, kissing his aw down your jaw. You push at his back with your heel, humming softly.

"Charlie ? I missed you." You mutter, burying your hands in those soft brown curls of his.

"I caught the first flight back. Needed to see my girl." He says, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He grimaces, his nose scrunching as he notices an odd smell on your body. His cologne, mixed with sweat and another mixture of things that you like about his scent. He frowns.

"Why do you smell like me ?" He asks, his voice soft against your ears. He softly pulls away from you, the darkness in the room making him squint. He turns on the bedside light, sending the slightest glow emmenating around the room, and finally illuminating your body. The sheets have bunched up near the apex of your thighs, revealing the soft black material of your lingerie and finally his shirt, resting on your shoulders. His number, splayed over your chest, the fabric stretching in a heavenly way around your breasts.

Charles heard his breath catch in the back of his throat. Sleepy and craving to hide your eyes from the light, you whimper and shift from side to side, the shirt hiking up to reveal he ruffled hem of the lingerie resting on your hips.

"I missed you." You repeat again as an answer, humming as you closed your eyes.

"Putain." Fuck. He mutters, gulping heavily. "Is that- Are you wearing my shirt ?" This makes your eyes open. There was so something to primal in his eyes. Seeing you in his shirt, proudly wearing his humber, knowing you were probably cheering him on and seeing the way the fabric of the shirt stretch over his favorite part of you- stroked something deep within him, ever ounce of blood leaving his head to rush between his legs.

"Do you not like it ? I can take it off." You whispered. The ferrari red brought out your flushed complexion, and Charles felt his pants grow uncomfortably tight.

"I'f i'd have known you were waiting for me here, like this.." His finger finds the apex of the your thighs, slipping his finger between the tiny gap, stroking the soft, subtle skin. "I would've come home earlier." He mutters, and you smile at him softly.

"If you hadn't left, you could've had seen me like this all weekend." You mutter, although you know he could never stop racing. He smiles teasingly at you, rolling his eyes. You sit up, the shirt falling down to your thighs, yawning.

"I need the bathroom. Be right back, baby." You breathe out, getting to your feet after pressing a soft kiss to his lips. His jaw almost drops, and the tightness in his pants grows. The number and red on your body seems to be made for you, and Charles has to bite back a primitive growl. When you emerge from the bathroom, the heavy lidded look of your eyes looks like you've been fucked out, and Charles sits up fully. You sit in front of him, kneeling at the foot of the bed as you tuck your hair behind your ears.

"You did really good today. P3." You say, smiling softly at him. He simply just nods, his chest heaving. You frown at his lack of answer, not noticing his eyes glue to your chest, to his number on your body. It's like he's finally staked his claim to you, and it makes his heart swell. You smile confusedly at his dazed expression.

"Charlie ? Are you okay ?" You ask, leaning forward, your arms pressing your breasts together. He gulps heavily, holding his hand out for you.

"Lemme look at you." You slide over, expecting him to be all soft and cute like he usually is when he's sleepy, but boy were you wrong. He guides you over his lap, forcing you down to straddle it as he inspects you.

"Fucking hell. You look hot in red. Why have you never worn this before ?" He asks, running his calloused hands over your thighs, the cold of his rings burning your skin.

"Because you're always wearing it ?" You reply teasingly, fingers mindlessly drawing out the sahpe of his abs and muscles.

"Ma belle fille.." My pretty girl. You blush furiously, smiling softly as he traces the apex of your thighs with his hands. You rub your eyes tiredly, craving to cuddle into him and sleep, but the way he's looking up at you, his hands grasping you tight, it makes a rumble start up in your stomach. He's looking at you like a man starved. I mean it's not as if he's never seen you wear red. But something about you, in his shirt, makes him hungry.

"Why ? Do you like it ?" You counter his question, giggling softly. His eyes almost bulge out of his head.

"Like it ? Amour, I love it. You are never taking this off. " You smile softly, cocking a questioning eyebrow.

"Never ? Don't you have to wear this in Imola ?" he shakes his head, licking his lips again.

"Were you wearing this when i crossed the finish line ?" He asks, softly swerving your question. You nod, smiling softly. He chuckles, his hands slipping up the shirt and caressing your ribs, his thumbs grazing right along side the underside of your breasts.

"Well then i'll tell Fred we're keeping the blue. You're wearing this at every race weekend from now on- My lucky charm." The words send a blush rising to your cheeks, and he laughs. "Really ? That's what gets you going ? I have worse i can say, bébé." He says, his eyes still trained on his number on the shirt, making you roll your eyes. Charles knew the effect his words had on you, and he was not afraid to use it. Wether in was to rile you up when you two were out with the rest of the grid, or when you were in the privacy of your home or his driver's room.

"And with you on top of me, looking like this.. I have a few ideas." He mutters, before his face dives down to bury itself in your neck, his lips nipping at the sot skin right below your jaw. You bite back a breathy moan as your hand comes flying up to grab his hair, the covers bunched up around both of you. Your hips roll instinctively against his as he continues to suck at your skin, inevitability leaving bright red marks along your jaw and collarbone, sure to mark you for everyone to see- And he was going to make sure everyone would see. You could already see the gears in his head turning, trying to figure out where to mark you so people would know you were his next time you even set foot in the paddock. His hands travel up to fully grasp your breasts, his thumps pinching the pebbled peaks, this time eliciting a whimper from the back of your throat. He smirks against your skin.

"There it is." He whispers, before pulling away from your neck, his hands leaving your breasts, slipping up to cup your cheeks. His lips smash down against yours, catching them in a rough dance, his hands blindly reaching down to push the fabric on your panties to the side, running his finger against your folds. When he's met with the obvious wetness and slick already coating you and spreading across your thighs, and audible groan is heard from your boyfriend, kissing you with a new fervour.

"T'est déjà prête pour moi, hein, ma belle ?" You're already ready for me, huh, pretty girl ? He teases, the accent rolling off his tongue as he pulls away to observe the way your eyes flutter closed at the sensation of his thumb pressing down on you clit as two of his fingers stretch you out with no warning. Your hands fly up to grip his bare shoulders at the sudden intrusion, a pained whimper leaving your lips as you bite your full bottom lip between your teeth.

"So wet f'me.. Only for me. Where do you want me, amour ?" He asks, slowly and teasingly kissing your breasts through the shirt. You whimper.

"L-Like this." You manage, gulping down the moans bubbling up your throat as his fingers brush against that spot he knows would make you come undone.

"You want to ride me, bébé ?" He asks, smiling against your skin. You nod frantically, unable to contain the shake in your thighs as his thumb continues to assault your clit.

"Tes mots, ma chérie. Utlise tes mots." Your words, darling. Use your words. He instructs, clearly not wanting to use your fucked out state to his own gain.

That's the thing about Charles.

He may be a huge fucking tease, but he will always double check before dong anything he thinks might hurt you in any way. Especially in these situations, when your need for him would be too overwhelming and your thoughts wouldn't process normally, and sometimes you would say thins you didn't mean just to get him to touch you. So when you notice that twinge of doubt in his eyes as he looks up at you, you gulp down whatever moan or cry of his name was about to emerge and lovingly kiss his cheek, trying your best to keep your orgasm at bay.

"I want to ride you, Charlie." You manage, before his thumb gives your clit another appreciative rub and you crumble, body going slack against his as your body convulses, your walls fluttering around his fingers. He kisses you through the high, letting you ride it out before your hips still and he takes that as his sign. He retracts his fingers from you, lapping them up with his tongue, and you gasp as he smiles.

"You ready for me, mon cœur ?" He asks, softly moving himself underneath you to tug down his sweats. Eagerly, you help him shimmy them off, watching as his cock slaps up against his abdomen. You practically drool, at the sight, and move to take the shirt off. Charles shakes his head, licking his lips.

"No. Don't. Keep it on." He says, a hungry glare in his eyes. Fucking you with his number on him seems to seem more appealing to him than touching your breasts- which is usually his favourite part. But there's something in his eyes that makes it so hard to deny him. So you simply nod and drop your hands back down, softly bunching the shirt up around your waist so he can see what he's doing. His hands find the lace of your underwear again, fully shoving it to the side before softly placing you right above his length. He pushes you down, stopping when your pained whimpers feel the air, your nails digging into his chest.

"Woah, you got it, baby." He breathes, reaching up to brush your hair out of your face. "We can stop if you want to, amour. I don't want you to get hurt." He's barely halfway inside you, and he's already worried about hurting you. You shake your head, letting yourself sink down a little more and wiggle your hips to try and let yourself adjust to his girth, stretching you out from a new angle. He pushes your underwear further to the side, his hands balled around the shirt. When you finally sink down fully, the room is met with synchronized moans from the both of you.

'Fuck, chérie. Taking me so good." He praises as your hips start to instinctively roll above his. HIs hands push up the shirt, so that your stomach is revealed, leaving only the number on your breasts exposed. He groans as the bounce with your every roll, the number jutting out as if to further shove it in his face, that you are his. Your hands are splayed on his chest, gasping as you feel him poke his way into your stomach. He smirks at your desperate whimpers.

"What's wrong, darling ?"

"S'not enough." You whine, your hips stuttering. His hands guide you along, but it doesn't seem enough to push you further towards your edge. His brows furrow in worry. You whimper again, your hands balling into fists above his bare chest.

"Please, Charlie." You whimper, your head thrown back, sweat covering your skin, his hands coming to a still around your hips. His hand reaches around your back and pins your hips down against him. He holds you still, earning a whine of protest from you. he kisses up your chest, shaking his head as you try to roll your hips again.

"Shhh, non mon amour. Bouge pas. Let me take care of you." No my love, don't move. He whispers against your skin, finally letting go of your shirt, the material dropping back down to bunch up around your waist. He holds you still, before thrusting his hips up to meet yours.

"Better ?" He asks, his chest caving with every heavy breath that fills his chest, the only thing edging him on are your desperate whimpers. Your own hips start rolling again, and his head is thrown back, a low groan leaving his lips.

"Ah, fuck. So pretty. So tight. Just f'me." His words bring heat up to your cheeks, feeling his cock brush against that knot of nerves that is yet to be untangled.

"God, Charles." You cry, his hands trailing up and past the shirt to grab your breasts underneath the rough material of his shirt. He palms them, smiling as you whimper once again, leaning into his touch. His hips keep on bucking up to meet your rolls, and he can tell you're already getting close. The urge to have you pinned under him, ready for him, is overwhelming,. With no warning, he twists the two of your around, splaying your thighs open onto the bed, your hands gripping his shoulders in shock. His hips meet yours at a furious, hungry pace.

"God, you drive me crazy." He groans as his lips find your neck and leaves marks atop the already present ones. "Sleeping in my shirt, wearing my number.. it's like you're trying to get me to fuck you." He groans, a slight chuckle leaving his lips. You whimper, your hands digging into his shoulder blades.

"Fuck, i missed you so much." You whimper, tears flying up to your eyes. His hips snap against yours harder at your words, stealing the whimpers from your lips.

"I missed you more, fuck you have no idea. Tu m'a tellemment manqué." I missed you so much. He moans, his hips stuttering. You bite back a moan, your head thrown back as he pushes your thighs further apart, making you whine.

"God, please. Please, Cha, i'm so close." You whimper, gasping for air, the shirt tight around you. He pull back only slightly, gripping your thighs and dragging him closer to you. His hand wraps around your neck to tilt your head up, licking his lips.

"Vas-y, amour." Go ahead, love. "Show me how good i make you feel." His words seem to be the only thing your body obliges to, and your body convulses under him as you come all over him, whimpering loudly as your back arches off the bed. His body falls forward, pushing up your shirt to wrap his full lips around one of your breasts, making you moan loudly as he continues to push himself in and out of you at a steady pace. HIs free hand is still pushing your thigh open and flat on the bed, and he tries to ignore how it shakes and how you cry out in overstimulation as he tries his best to push you to another limit, not wanting to hurt you in his selfish need for release.

"Charlie, please, i can't-" You beg, your body shaking as tears fall past your eyes. He shushes you, pain blooming in his chest at your cries.

"Shh, i know baby, i know. Just one more for me, okay ?" He groans as your walls flutter around him, clearly already primed and ready for another. You nod frantically, feeling the tension build up in you stomach again. You hands drift down to his waist, grabbing it and pushing him towards you.

"Putain de merde." Fucking hell. "You're going to be the death of me, baby." He praises, his hips stuttering.

"Fuck, i'm close, do you want me to-"

"Inside." You gasp, feeling your own orgasm reach you, the third one of the night. The breathy sound of your voice has his toppling and he empties himself inside of you, moaning your name loudly as his eyes flutter closed. You whine as he pushes his shirt back down your chest, the emptiness between your legs evident. He kisses your face, slipping his own boxers on before grabbing a towel from the chair near your bed and baling it up, softly dragging it along your thighs. You whimper, squeezing your thighs together. He brushes your hair away from your eyes, softly shushing you as he spreads your thighs open again and proceeds with cleaning you up.

“Shhh, it’s okay, mom cœur. It’s okay.” He whispers, kissing the tears away. When he finally pushed your underwear back into place, he slides next to you and pulls you into his arms. He kisses your forehead, sighing heavily as you sniffle into his chest.

“I really did miss you.” You mutter, running your hands along his muscles. He smiles, looking down at you.

“I know, bébé. I missed you too. I wish you could’ve been there, cheering for me.” You giggle.

“You know i had to work, Charlie. I would’ve dropped everything to be there if my boss had given me the days off. P3.. That’s a great result.” He grimaces at the praise. You frown.

“What ?”

“P3 is not a great result- it’s just a result.” You sit up, glaring down at him, trying to ignore the pain in your legs.

“Hey.. P3 is a good result. It’s just the beginning, you can only get better from here, and i’m sure you will. I mean P2 in the sprint is already amazing.” You praise, and he smiles.

“See, this is why i need you at races. You’re such a better pep talker than Xavi and all the others.” You roll your eyes and lower yourself down next to him, sighing as you rest your head on his chest.

“If you get me a job, maybe i could be there every weekend.” He laughs, the rumble making your heart soar.

“I’ll see what i can do, amour. Anything to have you there with me.”

The rest of the night is spent laughing and him telling you about his weekend, pure and unfiltered like the TV would show you- and you make a mental note.

If you ever have to spend the weekend away from him again- which wasn’t bound to happen often- you’d make sure to be wearing his shirt when he got home.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x you #cl16 imagine #cl16 #angst and fluff #formula one imagine #formula 1 #formula one

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vivwritesfics · 8 months

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Sweat, Baby, Sweat - MV1

Singapore is hot, incredibly hot. So, what do you do when you sweat through your shirt? You borrow your simp of a teammates shirt.

Max Verstappen x RB Driver!Reader

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Singapore was Y/Ns favourite track. It was taxing, but it was her favourite. High adrenaline and incredible heat. Anything could happen out there on the track.

If anywhere was going to end Red Bulls reign of dominance, it was Singapore. Y/N L/N and Max Verstappen had worked together, teammates in harmony, to keep the winning streak going.

On the rare instance Max wasn't on the podium, Y/N was in his place. More often than not they shared the podium, spraying the champagne with the biggest grins on their faces.

Only twice that year Y/N had gone out in Q2, not making it to Q3. When that happened, she couldn't face Christian, couldn't look at Max. Nobody was a bigger critic of Y/N than Y/N herself.

Singapore was hot, hot, hot.

As Max and Y/N did those little press videos (for the life of me I can't remember what they're called SOMEONE HELP PLS) Y/N was sweating. Several times while they filmed, she was pulling her shirt away from her neck, trying to get at least a little bit of air.

Sweat beaded on her forehead. She had long since taken off her Red Bull hat, too hot for that extra fabric on her head.

The press video was hard to get through. Y/N had gotten through at least three bottles of water before they finally finished. While they filmed, Max kept looking at her, frown on his face. Clearly, he was concerned.

Actually, all of the Red Bull team was concerned, but none more than him.

As soon as they'd finished filming, Y/N ran off to the bathroom. She did her business, splashed some water on her face and smelt the inside of her shirt.

It wasn't pleasant. The Red Bull shirt was such dark colours, no wonder Y/N was having trouble. She'd have to change before she and Max got on with the next round of press.

Y/N rushed off away from the press and the cameras. She ran by a concerned Max, who tried to grab her by the arm, and past the Red Bull team. "I'll be back in ten minutes," she said to Christian as she ran past.

Y/N made her way back to her hotel room. It wasn't too far away from the track, and she had almost all of her friends (aka, the other drivers) on the same floor as her.

When Y/N first started in F1, driving for Toro Rosso, there was a mixed response from fans. At that point, the fans were mostly older men and their sons. Their reactions were a mix of sexualising her and slut shaming her. Most had fears that she'd distract the rest of the grid by sleeping with them all before every race.

But the F1 Fans had grown used to her. And they loved her. They loved her as much as they loved Carlos and Pierre and Magnussen. They loved her as much as they loved every other driver on the grid.

Once in her hotel room, Y/N got changed into another Red Bull shirt. She didn't have many left, certainly not enough for the next three days of the grand prix (if things were keeping up the way they were).

After getting changed Y/N quickly checked her phone. Messages from Max and Christian, her manager reminding her of the next bit of press she had to do and her parents wishing her luck on the qualifying.

By the time Y/N got down to complete the press interview, she was already sweating. Anxiety bubbled up in side of her. What if she smelt bad? What if the cameras picked up on her pit stains?

Before the interview started, Max nudged her with his elbow. "Is everything okay?" He asked her, keeping his eyes trained forward.

Max had always been considerate when it came to Y/N. He knew what she had been through at the start of her career, the things she had to deal with from the fans. He was more aware than anybody that it was still going on. If Y/N was caught having fun with any of the drivers, they'd ridicule her online.

"Yeah, Max, I'm fine."

Y/N made it through the day in that shirt. She went to bed that night in only her underwear to try and keep cool.

By breakfast that morning she had already begun to sweat. Not through her shirt, not yet. She made it to lunch before she had to get changed.

Before the qualifying, Max pulled her to one side. Out of the prying eyes of any camera, Max grabbed her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. Once again, she wasn't wearing her hat, making it easier for him.

"Something is going on with you. You keep disappearing," he said to her, not loosening his grip. And he wouldn't until she told him what was going on.

Y/N shook her head. "I'm okay, Max, really."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"Just tell me!"

Letting out a sigh, Y/N looked up at him and pulled his hat from his head. She placed it on her own and smiled. "Is it hot in here, or is it just me?"

"It's just you."

Max's flirting had been really subtle since Y/N became his teammate. He hadn't wanted to toe the line, didn't want to receive the repercussions of trying to date his teammate.

Qualifying was horrible. Y/N swore in all the years before it had never been this bad. The heat was distracting and she was out in Q2, taken out by Lance fucking Stroll.

Y/N was fuming. There was only one person who could comfort her. And he was currently driving around the circuit with the fastest lap.

Y/N's post qualifying interview was short. She answered every question with one word answers, her face like a slapped ass. As soon as the interview was over she was off to her drivers room to sulk.

She was only granted two minutes to herself before there was a knock on the door. Christian didn't wait for an answer before he walked in. "How are you doing?" He asked her, leaning against the door.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. It was far too hot to think.

"Well, whatever it is, have it sorted by tomorrow," he continued. "And, come and celebrate with your teammate."

The next day went much the same. Y/N sweated through breakfast and, by the time she got to lunch, she was having to change her shirt.

But there was one problem. She didn't have any shirts she hadn't already sweated through.

With nothing else to do, Y/N tucked her hands into her armpits and walked towards her boss. "Christian," she muttered almost timidly. It wasn't like Y/N to be timid. There wasn't room for it, with her being a woman in the sport.

She took him into her drivers room and made an embarrassing confession. She couldn't look Christian in the face as she told him how much she had been struggling in the heat and that she had no more shirts left.

Christian pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "Well, I know for a fact Max has another shirt. I'll go and grab it for you," he said, sparing her the embarrassment of telling somebody else.

When Christian returned with a shirt for Y/N she was quick to change. She put on some more deodorant and pulled Max's shirt over her head. Lifting the collar to her nose she breathed in. Max. It smelled of Max. It smelled amazing.

When she walked out of her drivers room, there were stares. She wasn't much aware of the stares she was getting, her eyes searching for one person and one person only.

Max didn't know what to do when he saw her. The shirt was slightly too big, hanging down to her thighs. It was oversized on her, the short sleeves almost at her elbows. Wow. That was all Max could think. Just wow.

He couldn't take his eyes off of her. He watched as she lifted the collar of the shirt to her nose and smelt it yet again. His heart fluttered. Wow. Just wow.

Y/N turned around and spotted Max hidden behind a team of engineers. She wove her way around the engineers, approaching him. "Thanks for the shirt," she said with a smile.

Max didn't know how to respond. He kept staring at herm unable to take his eyes off of her. It was struggle before she was wearing his clothes, but now Max didn't stand a chance.

When Y/N took his hat from her head, he finally looked at her face. "It suits you," he managed to say. She was irresistible. It was almost too much for him.

No, it was too much for him.

"Fuck it," Max whispered under his breath. He placed his hands on her hip, catching Y/N off guard. Max wasted in time in leaning in. He pressed is lips to hers in a somewhat awkward kiss.

But it didn't take Y/N long to get with the programme. She pulled the hat from her head and wrapped her arms around his neck. Closing her eyes she deepened things, leaning into him.

When she finally pulled away, Max couldn't stop staring at her.

"I've wanted to do that since we became teammates," he whispered, taking the hat from Y/N and placing it on his head.

"What stopped you?"

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lxclerc · 2 months

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𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ─ 𝐨𝐛𝟑𝟖

summary: when max verstappen’s adopted little sister starts soft launching, the whole grid launches an investigation on who it might be

pairing: ollie bearman x f2 driver! max verstappen’s adopted sister! reader

faceclaim: no one in particular

note: i accidentally published this before it was finish so now i’ve completely lost the request but anyways the request really was just about max being reader’s grid dad but i ran with it a little

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ twitter

.ೃ࿐ yourusername posted on her story!

landonorris replied to your story: it’s like you have a death wish

yourusername: shut up

landonorris: rest in peace to the unlucky guy 🫡

arthur_leclerc replied to your story: soft launching knowing mad max is your warden is insaneee

yourusername: i just got that dog in me ig

arthur_leclerc: never ever say that again

paularon_ replied to your story: so long, ollie. it was good knowing you, mate ✊

yourusername: so dramatic for no reason

maxverstappen1 replied to your story: that better be just be some stranger you picked up on the side of the road to tie your shoelaces and not a boy you went around japan with when you told me you were only going out with your team

yourusername: remember that you love and adore me and i am 17 years old and can make my own decisions

maxverstappen1: nice try. who is he?

yourusername: no ❤️

ੈ✩‧₊˚ messages

ੈ✩‧₊˚ instagram

liked by olliebearman, maxverstappen1, paularon_ and others

yourusername suzuka, youve been very nice to me 🫶

view all comments…

user1 the way she ran to max’s arms after the podium 🥹

user2 a red bull girl with her red bull dad

user3 so we’re not going to talk about the 3rd pic?

maxverstappen1 who is he and why are you going on dates without telling anyone? what if something happens to you and no one knows where you are or who you’re with?

↳ yourusername calm down, we were with the team 🙄

↳ user4 overprotective dad max is so adorable i cant lie

↳ user5 if they were with the team, does that mean the guy’s also part of the team? another driver maybe?

↳ user6 user5 youre onto something

victoriaverstappen je bent geweldig, mijn meisje. blijf stralen ❤️ (you are amazing, my girl. keep on shining.)

↳ yourusername ik hou zielsveel van je, v 💕 (i love and adore you to bits, v)

paularon_ congrats or whatever

↳ yourusername jealousy doesnt suit you

↳ paularon_ nvm fck u 💕

arthur_leclerc stop winning

↳ yourusername get a seat first ❤️

olliebearman congratulations, yn! another trophy to bring home ❤️

↳ yourusername thank you, ollie!

use7 the difference between paul and arthur then ollie bye i love their friendship 😭

landonorris girlll who is heeeee

↳ yourusername no ❤️

↳ charles_leclerc come on, at least give us a clue

↳ carlossainz55 is he also a driver? what team does he driver for?

↳ yourusername yall are grown ass men way too interested in a teenager’s love life. absorb some sunlight

↳ user8 she gagged yall im afraid 😭

ੈ✩‧₊˚ messages

ੈ✩‧₊˚ instagram

liked by olliebearman, paularon_, arthur_leclerc and others

yourusername hello, lover ❤️

view all comments…

olliebearman my girl ❤️❤️

olliebearman love you to the moon and to saturn 💫

↳ yourusername buzz lightyear’s got nothing on us frfr

↳ arthur_leclerc why can’t you be normal?

↳ yourusername ollie loves me with all the weirdness and shit

↳ olliebearman yeah that’s about right

↳ arthur_leclerc 🤮🤮

↳ user1 arthur is your regular third wheel bff

paularon_ ollie’s trying to keep his cool in the comments but he’s red as a tomato

↳ olliebearman shut the hell up no im not

↳ yourusername youre not? 🥹

↳ olliebearman i mean of course i am got me giggling and shit too

↳ paularon_ you’re both disgusting

user2 arthur and paul are so over them 😭

user3 i fucking knew the back of that head was familiar!!!!

user4 oh? OH!

user5 idk what hurts more. the fact that i no longer have a chance with ollie or the fact that i no longer have a chance with yn

user6 waiting for max’s comment

maxverstappen1 you better watch it the next time you step in for either carlos or charles, bearman 🙂

↳ yourusername you promised

↳ maxverstappen1 i promise i’ll carve charles’ appendix out myself so ollie and i can face each other on track man to man

↳ olliebearman i- sir?

↳ charles_leclerc mate, what the fuck did i do to you

↳ yourusername maxie come on. you promised me you’d be nice

↳ maxverstappen1 fine 🙄

maxverstappen1 dinner’s at 8 on tuesday. don’t be late

↳ olliebearman yes, sir 🫡

user7 not charles getting dragged into it 😭😭

↳ user8 max is just completely unable to go through a conversation without mentioning charles ♡ liked by yourusername

liked by victoriaverstappen, olliebearman and others

yourusername it was truly unfortunate for max to find out that his cat is also now in love with ollie

view all comments…

user1 omg sophie and victoria also joined the dinner 😭

↳ user2 girlie really introduced her to the whole family

↳ yourusername well actually max invited them along to try and intimidate ollie but jokes on him, they loved him

↳ user3 yn and ollie to max when vic and sophie ended up loving ollie: oh how the turntables

maxverstappen1 sassy is NOT in love with a ferrari driver

↳ yourusername one thing you, sassy and i have in common with

↳ user4 yn truly is just a lestappen truther

olliebearman sassy 🫶

↳ yourusername oh i guess ill just die then

↳ olliebearman my love beautiful angel girlfriend yn ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

↳ yourusername better

↳ arthur_leclerc did you just get jealous over a cat?

↳ yourusername did you really just lose your seat?

↳ yourusername it’ll get old when you get your seat back

↳ arthur_leclerc that’s getting old 🙄

user5 each and every day, arthur tries to come for yn’s neck and each and every day, yn gags him

paularon_ olliebearman in a scale of 1-10, how scary is it to face mad max head on?

↳ olliebearman just peachy 👍 (i nearly shat my pants)

charles_leclerc does this mean that max’s promise is null and void?

↳ maxverstappen1 none of you figured out who it is 🤷

↳ yourusername what promise?

↳ maxverstappen1 ….nothing

landonorris i can’t believe we didn’t figure out it’d be bearman

↳ george_russell it seems so obvious now

↳ alex_albon i asked him straight on and he lied to my face

↳ olliebearman i was terrified max would find a way to run me over with his rocketship if i even dare utter it

↳ alex_albon yk what absolutely valid

also this turned out wayy longer than i meant it to which is why it took so long.

#ollie bearman #ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman fluff #ollie bearman smau #formula 2 #formula 1 #f1 #max verstappen #f2 #f2 x reader

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tonysbed · 2 months

Text

Love, Cars and leaked tapes | MV1 & ???

max verstappen x driver!reader

Summary: Max Icloud gets hacked, which resolves in a sextape leak. Max suddenly gets scared that he still has the tape of Vegas 21 on his phone..

masterlist

warnings: Talk abt sex, leaked sextape, sexual language, swearing?

Your face was pale, hands gripping your phone and eyes wide. You had told Max hundreds of times to not keep any tapes on his phone in case of things like this.

Someone had gained access to Max’s Icloud and leaked your sextape. You were a little relieved when you saw which one it was. Just a simple ‘vanilla’ missionary sex video. Nothing to special. It could’ve gone worse.

The front door of your shared apartment slammed shut “Schatje? Where are you?” His voice seemed stressed “Living room” You yelled back.

His frame appears before you “Lifje I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was still on there. God I’m so stupid” He sat down at the other end of the sofa.

You sighed “See the positive” He raised his eyebrows “What’s positive to this?” You crawled over to him and laid your head in his lap “It wasn’t anything worse”

His eyes widened “Oh god, Did I delete Vegas 21 from my phone?” His fingers trying to fish his phone out of his pocket “Max”

He frantically starts searching his phone “Max” He didn’t show a reaction.

“Max Emilian Verstappen.” You hissed. His eyes shot up to you “You didn’t. There aren’t any more leaked tapes, AND Vegas 21 was one of the first that went into a USB-Stick” You smiled gently “It will be okay”

He nodded, opening his arms for you. You smiled again and climbed onto his lap, his arms locking around you.

“At least everyone knows who makes you feel so good, mh?” His eyes lock onto yours “Mh..Could say the same for you. You kept whimpering” He chuckled “Cause your a dirty little minx and kept clenching around me”

Your voice lowered “Oh and you didn’t like that?” Max eyes glinted with a hint of lust “I didn’t say that, did I?” You shake your head and place a kiss on his jaw.

“Lifje, jesus. We have a meeting over this.” You chuckled but kept placing wet kisses on his jaw and neck. His hand suddenly grabbed your throat.

“Enough, before you’ll see what happens. You know I don’t like bad girls” He grumbled “And you’re my good girl, right?” You nod, unable to form words “Good. Now let’s go”

The walk into the paddock the next day was weird to say the least. Even tho you both showed up confidently.

Headline over headline was thrown your way.

Enews

739.540 likes

Enews Even after yesterdays Events, Max Verstappen and Y/n Y/l/n strutted into the paddock. L/n more than Verstappen. He seemed more quiet and intimidated by the loud media and quickly went into his garage. Y/n went over to fans, signed stuff and took pictures with Fans. Once the tape was mentioned she rolled her eyes but laughed a little “Of course it’s not great but there’s nothing I can do now so..Yeah We’re good.I think there could’ve been worse leaked so..” She shrugged and then answered why Max simply slipped into the garage “He’s just annoyed by it so leave Max be a little, yeah?”

user93 NOT GREAT? Maybe not for you but jeez..Mans been hitting it good :o

user29 No wonder the man is always calm, he’s got himself a relief there 😨

user74 can’t get over the fact that he called her ‘good girl’ HOW IS SHE SURVIVING?!

user82 There’s more proof that they’re the hottest couple ever

user26 love how light she’s taking it (the leak not max)

user97 just died at this 😭

user63 man is packing 😃

After the race, neither you or Max went into the interviews. To exhausted by all the pressure and questions about the tape. Yet you had to because you both got on the podium with Charles.

You were sitting between them, fidgeting with the microphone. Max seemed more relaxed than he did this morning. He looked over to you and nudged your knee with his.

He mouthed ‘You okay?’ You nodded and smiled shortly. Luckily the reporters respected your wish that there were no questions about the tape. Well, until the last reporter started asking about the tape. Before you or Max could say something, Charles spoke up.

“I don’t think this is necessary. They both have been so kind about the prying eyes and questions, kept their calm but it’s enough. This was a complete invasion of their private life and it’s so disrespectful. You wouldn’t want that happening to you either, right? It’s so brave that they actually sat down here, even tho they knew there was a high chance of this happening. This is supposed to be about our cars and performance, not any disgusting invasion of privacy.”

You smiled at Charles and so did Max. He shot you both a smile back and the reporter just went back to his seat.

After you wrapped up and walked to your car with Max, you saw charles walking across the parking lot. You pulled at Max’s shirt “We should say thank you, don’t you think” He nodded “I’ll go” You say and jog over to the Ferrari driver.

“Charles!” He turned around and his tense expression immediately relaxed “Yeah?”

“I-No we wanted to thank you again. It was really kind of you in there” He smiled “No problem. It’s just so unfair for you two. Really sorry that people are like this” You chuckle “As long as you’re not like them” He shook his head and laughed “Absolutely not”

She gave him a quick hug “See you next week” He nodded “Rest well” You smile “You too”

You walked back to your car and sat in the passenger seat “Still glad that it wasn’t Vegas 21 to be honest” Max said while keeping his eyes on the road “Yeah, That would’ve been a bigger scandal than this one.”

Max nodded and laid his hand on your left thigh “Well be alright” You placed your hand on top of his “Yes we will. Especially with you by my side” He chuckled “I love you”

“I love you more”

I randomly had this idea while making a Lewis edit. Don’t ask how the hell that was connected but here we are.

Do you want a part where you see what happens in Vegas?:0

I didn’t proofread cause it’s like past midnight and I’m way to tired to I apologise for any mistakes 🤧

Vegas Part

#charles leclerc #lili reinhart #max verstappen #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen social media au #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen smut #max verstappen x driver!reader

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skitskatdacat63 · 1 year

Text

2005 Italian Grand Prix - Juan Pablo Montoya, Fernando Alonso & Giancarlo Fisichella(my personal post-race highlights)

#its been 3 days since i watched this race and im still absolutely unhinged abt that last gif????#FERNANDO I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT TO SAY #I rly wish fifi and nando got more podiums together bcs I LOVE THEM SMMMM #the 2nd gif is so cute waahhhhh #also fisi's face in the 4th LMAO he looks like banana cat #and the way he tosses his hat!#its funny that gifing these old races is randomly making me want to stan all these old drivers #good camerawork this race thank you I am grateful #fernando alonso #juan pablo montoya #giancarlo fisichella #f1 #formula 1 #2005 italian gp #we do a little bit of f1 #fa14 #(2005: 15/19 races watched)#formula one #(commentary: its sad to see kimi's championship chances fall away even if im heavily here for fernando)

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bth3cowboi · 2 months

Text

snoop the fondness, cs55 x reader

part 2 part 3

masterlist

pairing: carlos sainz x driver!reader

summary: sometimes family is a boy, a girl and her snoopy plushie. sometimes appendixes and lost cars try to get between that.

format: social meadia au

a/n: the reader’s f1 team is never specified in this! so it is completely open to interpretation.

( instagram )

ynraces 18h

liked by lewishamilton, carlossainz55 and 1.234.901 others

carlossainz55 18h

liked by landonorris, ynraces and 800.456 others

replies

ynraces

thats my literal baby if u even care

my babyyy my babyyy hes my babyyy say itt to himmm babyyy

carlossainz55

our baby

im his papa

ynraces

papi😈😈

liked 16h ago

ynraces

liked by f1, charles_leclerc and 2.234.655 others

ynraces P5 in Saudi! some great points were gained, super proud of the team this weekend, now onto Australia🇦🇺 😎.

I wish my lover boy raced 🫶💞 but as you can see he had a fight with some appendix guy(? At least he won that one

tagged carlossainz55;

see all comments

user1 omg not the drugged up pics and snoopy😭 shes not serious

user2 haha snoopy was also in carlos post with his dad so no surprised

carlossainz55 Wow I look handsome in that one

ynraces never looked better😘

landonorris Oooooh you had to take the plushie

ynraces yes but i regret it cuz he kept telling the nurses that they NEEDED to meet our baby and then I had to explain that it was actually just snoopy

landonorris I NEED THAT VIDEO HAHAHA

carlossainz55 No no those are lies

charles_leclerc No way I need the video too yn🙏 I bet he was gonna embarrass himself

ynraces check the gc

carlossainz55 You guys are the worst

user3 carlos getting appendicitis wasnt on my bingo card

user4 them having a bet going on wasnt on mine either lol they must be having a field day in that groupchat

( twitter )

( instagram )

ynraces

liked by landonorris, f1 and 1.556.887 others

ynraces in order:

1. Snoopy triying to find my car (is in the sea somewhere idk)

2. Some guy I picked up otw (he only spoke about some surgery he had(? weird)

3. That guy winning his 3rd GP!!! (apparently hes like a driver or something, super cool!! love him and his big brown bambi eyes!!!)

see all comments

carlossainz55 Love you too❤️❤️

liked by ynraces and 6087 others

user1 Did Snoopy find it?

ynraces yes and he sent it to Japan already, baby is efficient

user2 I just let out a scream of relief

user3 omg so glad youre gonna race

landonorris Don’t pick weirdos off the street🤮

ynraces ur just jealous it wasn’t you picking him up u ugly

landonorris 💔💔 Carlos say something

carlossainz55 Ay don’t be too mean to Landito

ynraces whatever you say beautiful🫡

user4 I cant wait for Japan and pray for a podium with Carlos and Yn😞 They deserve it

carlossainz55

liked by scuderiaferrari, ynraces and 1.933.298 others

carlossainz55 P1 and a special thanks to the beautiful Yn, can’t imagine what recovery would have looked like without her inconditional support. I’m gutted she couldn’t race this time, but we’re coming stronger next time. Te amo, mi reina❤️

see all comments

ynraces Te amo mucho🥹❤️

carlossainz55 yo más guapísima

user1 a single post for yn, this is so cuteee

user2 this man doesnt have a contract for next year so he WILL be simping for his rival on main, ferrari be damned

scuderiaferrari 🫶🏽❤️!

user2 oh hi

charles_leclerc Wow not a single comment about Snoopy, so sad, what would Yn think

ynraces didn’t even notice😞 I let the compliments fool me

charles_leclerc You are the worst parents

carlossainz55 Snoppy got his thanks in the hospital, stop inventing!!!!

ynraces HAHAHAHAH

——

a/n: hope you liked this!! I wish I had an explanation for this plot but there is nothing, just vibes and snoopy

#f1 #carlos sainz #cs55 #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x female reader #f1 smau #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #cs55 x reader #cs55 imagine #snoopycarlos

2K notes · View notes

jamminvroomvroom · 3 months

Text

die for you.

ln x driver!reader

in which you can’t stand each other, or so you say…

this took waaaay too long for me to hate it sm but she’s here! and she’s long! love this concept so much, thank you for this request. so many feels so many vibes, tell me what you think <3

loosely inspired by die for you by the weeknd

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, language, slight glimpses of she fell first, he fell harder, rivals to lovers/enemies to lovers, choking, hate sex? bar fight, mentions of blood

8.3k words (oop)

it’s rare that you miss a podium, so when you do, it tastes bitter and stings like a bitch.

the car has been on fire all season long, a thing of beauty in your calculated hands. so, the string of bad luck you’re enduring, small mistakes with big consequences, it’s quite the pill to swallow.

out of the car you jump, teeth grinding hard out of frustration. you could see the commotion ahead of you, members of the papaya team celebrating their driver. your eyes roll so hard in your head that you feel a lasting ache. you side step members of your team, dodging every single person that tries to talk to you, your comms officer knowing better than to try and engage with you. you know you’re being unreasonable, it was a p5 finish! but it isn’t a podium or a win, so quite frankly, you aren’t interested, and you certainly don’t have any energy left to hear how amazingly well he had driven.

lando fucking norris.

what was once quiet disdain had grown into fully fledged hatred and you fear you’ll be violently sick if you catch a single glimpse of him on the podium. sure, he’s talented, and sure, he’s beautiful, you suppose. that doesn’t mean you have to like him. not anymore. he lives under your skin, inescapable.

you struggle through every interview in the media pen, most of which dissect your recent fall from grace, your mouth forming a hard, unimpressed line every time they mention the orange goblin and his recent streak of podiums and good luck. you wish the journos would bring up his string of women and the probable plan b receipts that went with them. that, you would love to talk about.

you drive in silence back to your hotel, leaving the track as soon as possible, and quickly find solace in your bed for the night. the idea of seeing the inside of a club makes you nauseous after your epic downfall. as your eyes are drooping, your body going limp under the thick duvet, a knock sounds from the door.

“no.” you shout flatly, but the only response you get are giggles from the hallway. for fuck sake, you mutter, groaning as you shift out from beneath the covers and trail apprehensively towards the door.

george and alex appear before you, and you throw your head back is exasperation.

“mate, it’s 9:30.” alex laughs, taking in your fancy attire; pyjamas that you’ve had since you were 17.

“what’s your point?” you croak, glaring up at your obnoxiously tall friend.

“why aren’t you getting ready to go out?” george questions, leaning against the doorframe. he, too, was obnoxiously tall, you thought, feeling the strain in your neck as you move your glare onto him.

“if it wasn’t obvious, i’m not going.” you deadpan, crossing your arms over your chest. “i thought that was clear after i ignored all 77 of your texts.” you smile sarcastically, rubbing sleep from your eyes.

“don’t be boring! you’re an f1 driver, you’re in a cool city, you’re rich and, let’s face it,” he sasses. “you need to get laid.” alex says, like it’s the most causal thing in the world. your eyes bulge out of your head at the utterance of the last bit. george bites back laughter.

“choosing to ignore that.” you hiss. “i’m sorry but i refuse to go out and celebrate that arrogant, whiny little bitch.”

they both know exactly who you’re talking about.

you and lando have simply never seen eye to eye. your karting days were spent pushing one another off the track or into a muddy puddle if things got a bit heated out of the car. sure, olive branches were extended, and maybe adolescent feelings were secretly harboured, but he never gave you any reason to tell him that. you’d grown out of the childish violence when you graduated into formula 1, but you hadn’t been able to shake the rage he made you feel.

it didn’t matter how many dinners you attended where others had conspired and forced you to sit next to each other. it didn’t matter how many times you turned up to play padel and were met with the same lame excuses of ‘oh, did we not mention lando would be here?’ it didn’t matter how many times you’d hugged it out on the podium while adrenaline and tensions were running high.

it didn’t matter how many times he’d watched you from across a crowded room and you’d found his eyes, watched him back. it didn’t matter how many times he’d smirked at you at the start of a race weekend, made you blush. and it certainly didn’t matter what happened last time you found yourself in a club with him.

you just don’t like him. not anymore. you sleep better at night when you lie to yourself.

~ the last time

you sink shot after shot, cocktail after cocktail; the taste of fruity liquor stains your lips and burns your throat. you feel electric, sizzling with ecstasy and the heat from the flashing lights above your head.

it’s approaching 4am and you can’t recall a time in your life where you’d felt so fucking good. the high of your first win is indescribable.

you’ve lost track of the guys, alex and george have packed it in and gone back to their hotels with their girlfriends. pierre and kika are somewhere in a corner, you’re certain. you’re pretty sure you’ve even seen lewis with his entourage and a brick wall of a bodyguard trailing behind him. and at the bar, a set of eyes watch you.

lando isn’t even listening to oscar anymore, no. he is too entranced in the way your hips move to the beat, lost in the carefree lines your body makes in the crowd. he’s itching to go to you, put his hands in places that would stay between you, him, and god, but he doesn’t think a broken nose would be good for business.

everything changes when you spin around, facing his direction. then, it begins: the same thing that happens every time you end up going out in the same group. you watch one another, pretending you’re not both achingly desperate to find out how the other tastes.

but lando is feeling bold. he tells oscar he’ll see him in the morning, and then, egged on by a moscow mule and a few too many shots, he makes his way towards you. it is instinctual, magnetic, the way he is drawn to you.

hands on your hips, lips on your neck. the song changes. you recognise the weeknd’s voice. you are disappointed in yourself but it feels too good to stop.

you know what i’m thinkin', see it in your eyes you hate that you want me, hate it when you cry you’re scared to be lonely, 'specially in the night i’m scared that i’ll miss you, happens every time

the lyrics sober you up. you’re in the first taxi you can see when you finally get outside.

alone.

as much as that memory makes you shiver, for several different reasons, you find yourself putting on some makeup and raking through your suitcase for something to wear. george and alex are waiting downstairs for you at the bar, and when you finally make your way down there, they have a martini waiting for you. they watch in impressed horror as the alcohol disappears from the glass mere seconds after it touches your lips.

“let’s get this over with.” you sigh.

it could have been worse, you suppose.

the club is packed, hundreds of faces blurring into nothing. you feel better knowing that there is a one in a million chance of running into lando.

you’re tucked into a booth with alex and george, carmen and lily, a few faces you can’t quite place, and charles and pierre. you’d conspired to sit on the outside, prepared to make a quick getaway at the first sign of tension.

you’d been in a state of fight or flight since your last run in, nails bitten down every time you thought about his hands on you, how good they felt on you. it scared you more than anything had in a long time, how your desire had festered.

you go to take a swig from your glass, only to find it empty, aside from a few sad ice cubes. you watch jealously as they melt into nothing, wishing they would take you with them, shoving your glass across the smooth table top when your frustration boils over.

you’re on edge, ridiculously afraid of bumping into a curly haired man. it wasn’t him you were scared of, per-say, more yourself. god knows what you’d do if you felt those warm, calloused hands pulling your hips into his again.

“you okay?” pierre calls across the table. he and charles abandon their conversation as soon as your glass goes flying towards their side of the table. you’re broken out of your trance, caught off guard like a deer in headlights.

“tired.” you reply, shrugging it off like it was nothing. it’s clear immediately that they don’t buy it.

“she’s hiding.” alex chimes in from beside you, and your elbow goes straight into his ribs. he feigns pain for a moment, cackling at your reaction.

“from who?” charles inquires. you roll your eyes, blush spreading down your neck already. you hate everything about the conversation, and yet you need to see where it goes. you’d planned your escape, and now was the opportune time to make it, but you seem to be glued to the leather of the booth.

“lando.” george smirks into his drink as a he speaks, wiggles his eyebrows.

“oh yeah, we know all about that.” pierre laughs, his head tipping back in amusement.

“what?” you spit, eyes wide with confusion.

“don’t think me and kika didn’t see you two before the summer break. that night you won? we thought you’d finally cave.” pierre explains, his grin conveying pure evil.

several “what?!”’s sound from around the table, and now all eyes are on you.

“nothing even happened.” you mumble. “he came over to me and then i left.” you look away, twisting your hair around your finger. you are sweating.

“you looked like you were minutes away from being arrested for public indecency.” pierre smirks. you almost launch yourself across the table, intent on strangling him, and then perhaps throwing yourself in front of an oncoming uber outside.

“well, well, well. i fucking knew it.” alex is giggling beside you.

“come on guys, leave the poor girl alone.” lily winks at you, but even she has a twinkle in her eye. “there’s obviously feelings there.” and just like that she betrays you. her sympathetic smile doesn’t make you forgive her.

“i think you guys just need to get it out of your system,” charles starts, pausing to take a sip of his drink. “just fuck.” he waves his hand, like it was the most causal thing in the world.

the table erupts in laughter and you decide that you are well past the end of your tether. you shake your head, declaring that you need another drink, or ten, and strut away from the table. a chorus of ‘love you’-s and ‘get some’-s sound from behind you. you reply simply by raising your middle finger and refusing to look back.

the bar is in sight, just about in your reach when your evening goes from mildly bad to aggressively worse.

“fuck sake.” you sigh.

“and good evening to you too.” lando replies. he’s blocking your path, materialising before you out of nowhere.

“get out of my way, lan.” it sounds like you’re pleading and you cringe internally.

“don’t you wanna congratulate me?” he feigns a pout and you almost swing for him.

“no, not particularly.” you say dryly. “all i want is a drink, so if you’d just…” you gesture for him to move. of course, he doesn’t.

“haven’t seen you in a while, though. thought maybe you’d missed me.” he takes a step closer; goosebumps litter your bare skin.

“you are such an entitled prick.” you spit, moving to step around him but he catches you, gripping your wrists and pulling you in. you feel heat radiating off of him, expensive cologne overwhelming you in the best possible way.

“and you, honey, are such a fucking brat. but you don’t hear me complaining, do you?” lando whispers, cool breath hitting your face, minty, laced with champagne and cockiness. you almost fold, thighs clenching so tight that he must have noticed.

“move.” you grumble through gritted teeth. you are crumbling painfully, embarrassingly fast.

“make me.” your underwear is damp, but you are fuming.

“don’t fucking test me, lando.” something in your chest sets on fire and you’re over him and his bullshit, and the way he makes you feel.

“i know you want me.” he dips his forehead down to rest gently against yours. his grip on your wrists tightens, thumbs swirling circles into the flesh, right where your pulse is.

you lean in, mere centimetres separating your lips. his eyes darken, the assumption of victory over you tugs his lips into a smirk.

“all i want is my fucking drink. come find me when you’ve managed to navigate your gigantic, stupid head out of your arse.” you catch him off guard, wriggling out of his grip. you’re shaking when you walk away, thoughts of doing things with him that would get you both fired invading your foggy brain.

you try to disappear into the crowd, finally breathe a sigh of relief when your hands meet the cool surface of the bar. you order your drink, putting it on your tab and drum your nails against the marble top. you’re lost in your own world, watching as concoctions are mixed, as shots are downed. you finally feel at ease, until your evening takes yet another turn, one that was somehow even more unfortunate than all the others.

your attention is rudely stolen by the guy stood next to you.

“can i get that for you?” the random man speaks, in a way that he must of assumed was smooth. slimy, you think. he’s gesturing to your drink, clearly having watched you add it to your bill already.

“no, thank you. it’s already paid for.” you smile politely, turning on your heel. it seems he wasn’t quite done with you. you feel a clammy hand tug on yours, a wave of sickness washes over you.

lando’s hands are bigger, warmer, softer.

“where are you rushing off to, babe?” the sweaty man asks, his tone fake in a way that makes you uneasy.

“i need to get back to my friends.” you try to pull your hand free, but he won’t budge. “can you let go-“

“i can show you a good time. always thought you were kinda hot.” you’re panicking now, looking every which way for a familiar face, a security guard, anyone.

“take your hands off of me.” you snap, still wrestling to pull yourself free.

“one night with me would pull you out of that little slump you’re in.” he leers. you visibly gag, white hot rage blurs your vision.

“okay you piece of shi-“ you snarl, interrupted by a flash of curls and tanned skin.

“she told you to let go.” lando stands in front of you protectively, rigid and furious. you’ve never been so happy to see his annoying(ly beautiful) face.

“and what are you gonna do?”

“hands. off.” lando stands up even straighter, looking bigger than you’ve ever seen him.

“okay, mate, whatever.” the stranger rolls his eyes, shoves your hand away.

lando turns to you, opening his mouth to speak when…

“keep that stuck up bitch all to yourself.”

and then, everything goes to shit.

lando whips around, fists are flying, the stranger topples to the ground, amassed to nothing in the face of the mclaren drivers rage. lando doesn’t stop there, makes sure he is sufficiently dealt with, flat on his back on the sticky floor. you don’t know what to do, calling out for lando, begging him to stop, as satisfied as you are. lando hears your shouts, pulled out of the chaos and back to you. always back to you.

“are you okay?” he has his hands on your face searching for any remaining fear or upset. a crowd has formed and you see alex and george towering above the other club goers, jaws agape.

it’s as if he dj has it out for you, and you realise that the song has changed to something moodier, slower, one that gives you whiplash.

even though we're going through it and it makes you feel alone just know that i would die for you baby, i would die for you

“we need to get out of here. security are coming.” you mutter, keening into his touch.

“i have a car outside.”

“well, let’s use it then.”

you can’t help but stroke over his knuckles mindlessly in the car, an unlikely comfortable silence settling between you. they look raw, cracked slightly and you have an overwhelming desire to kiss them better. your head is fuzzy, and you’re unsettled with confusion, but at the same time, you feel lighter.

“why did you do that?” you murmur, disrupting the quiet that has settled over the backseat of the town car, the question burning desperately on your tongue.

lando turns his head so that he’s looking down at you, his good hand comes up to cup your jaw softly.

“no one can talk to you like that.” he’s staring so deeply into your eyes and you almost squirm at the intensity. you feel exposed, bare.

“but why did you step in before that?” you reiterate shakily. lando hums in understanding.

“i’ve known you since we were 10 years old. i know when you’re scared.” he whispers, breath dusting your cheeks. you almost lean in, then, something about his words pull you even closer towards him. you feel warmth creeping over your chest, sinking into the pit of your belly.

“we’ve arrived.” the driver calls from the front, signalling that you need to get out of the car. it was like an elastic band had snapped, and you spring away from lando, scrambling to undo your seat belt, the moment of weakness long gone.

you sneak into the lobby, on the lookout for any angry PR teams or incognito photographers that are scoping for their next pay check. the coast seems clear, so you manage to scurry discreetly into the elevator. you hit the button for the third floor.

“can you hit the button for five?” lando asks, leaning against the opposite wall.

“you’re coming to my room.” you state, offering no other explanation, even when he raises his eyebrows.

the ding of the lift has lando pushing himself off of the mirrored wall, trailing behind you into the corridor. the lights are low as he follows you to your door, hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. he watches in anticipation as you rifle through your small bag for your keycard. the green light gives you the go ahead to open the door, and he awkwardly follows you inside, peering around the room.

you notice the slight apprehension in his features, eyes blown wide from alcohol and adrenaline. they seem to sparkle more than you’d seen in a while, a hazel-y blue twisting with secrets and unspoken thoughts.

“let me find my first aid kit.” you tell him. you guide him towards the foot of your bed, gesture for him to sit. “make yourself comfortable.”

“you don’t need to do this.” lando replies, sitting down anyway.

“and you didn’t need to get between me and that dickhead but here we are.”

your words elicit a low chuckle from him, and you’re glad you have your back to him while you dig through your suitcase. he can’t see your smile at the wholesome sound, and he doesn’t need to.

random pieces of clothing fall out of the bag as you rummage through it, your attention taken up completely by your mission to find the small box. you don’t notice the pile of garments littering the floor.

“wow, didn’t take you for that kinda girl.” lando teases. your cheeks flame red when you catch sight of the cherry red thong that has managed to get caught in the wheel of your suitcase.

“shut up, i’m helping you.” you grumble, balling up the lace and burying it at the bottom of the case.

“why is it ferrari coloured? something you wanna tell me? do you think charles is… foxy? or is it fred? oh, i bet it’s fred, isn’t it.” he’s laughing now, loud and boisterous, and if it wasn’t for the butterflies erupting in your belly at the sound, you would have throttled him.

“i’ll leave you to bleed out.” you tease back, pointing at the dried up blood across his knuckles.

“of course, i am in urgent need of medical attention!” he exclaims sarcastically, clutching his hand. you roll your eyes.

“you know where the door is.” you stand from the floor, carrying a little square antiseptic wipe with you.

“yeah, i do. feel like staying now, though. i’m just so comfy.”

and with that, he throws himself back on your bed, closing his eyes as he sinks into the mattress.

you stare at him for a second, noticing the way his eyelashes dust the tops of his cheeks, his tanned, thick neck peeks out from in between the undone buttons of his dress shirt. you exhale shakily, moving to sit beside him on the bed.

“give me your hand.” you instruct him, tearing the packet open and unfolding the wipe.

“romantic.” lando snarks. you shove his shoulder in response. he holds his hand out.

“whatever.” you sigh, avoiding eye contact as you run the wipe over his knuckles. you can see how they are already tinged purple, wincing at the idea that it is your fault.

“what is it?” lando asks, noticing.

you don’t respond. this proximity is odd, you can’t quite tell yet if you like it. what you do know is that you certainly don’t know how to handle him now that the alcohol is wearing off and you’re left tending to the wounds of a man that you could have sworn you didn’t like.

“so that’s how it’s gonna be? we’re going back to the silent treatment again?” lando scoffs.

“don’t know what to say.” you mutter, keeping your eyes trained on every line and indent of his knuckles.

“why do you hate me so much?”

“i don’t.”

“yes, you do.” he scoffs.

“i don’t think about you enough to hate you.” you lie. it’s cruel. he winces.

that shuts him up.

“i’m gonna go. thanks for this.” lando waves his hand and you feel a wave of guilt hit.

“no, fuck, i’m sorry.” you apologise, bowing your head. “stay.”

“i’ll stay if you tell me why you hate me.”

“i’ve never hated you, lan. haven’t always particularly liked you but i never, ever hated you.”

“okay.”

that’s all it takes for him to flop back onto the bed. some unexplainable instinct that you loathe has you crawling onto the bed beside him. you wrap your arms around your pillow, watching him watch you.

“i used to have such a big crush on you, you know.” lando says. you stare at him blankly.

“what?”

“yep. i think i was about 15. you were the first girl i ever really liked that way.” he smiles, recalling the memory. “it kinda sucked because i knew you wouldn’t even look at me twice but it’s funny thinking back to that time.”

~ 15

he watches the way her hair gets caught in the breeze as she takes off her helmet. two messy braids are shaken free, and his heart skips a beat or two, or seven, when she turns around with the biggest grin on her face.

she’s just won a race, another one, and he’d be so jealous if it wasn’t her.

he thinks she’s the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. george and alex go over to her, congratulating her, hugging her. he wishes he could do that. he definitely can’t.

she doesn’t see him, the only times that she does are when they argue, when they push eachother off the track and scream at one another across a gravel trap. the times when she plants her pointed finger in his chest and calls him dirty, the times he gets heated and calls her something he doesn’t mean under his breath. and she always hears him. always. he watches her eyes pool with tears every single time.

he wants her, in a way he’s never wanted anyone before. he’s never felt like this, wonders how he can make it go away. she hates him. she must.

he can never have her, so why even try?

“i had no idea you ever felt that way.” you’re quite shocked, really. you knew that you had this intensely charged sexual tension between you now, but you had failed to realise how far back this all went.

mutually, at least.

“i’d say i’ve done a pretty good job of hiding it.” his smile changes slightly. it was now a sad smile, one that conveys disappointment in himself, and that you hated to see. it reminds you of the one you’ve gotten used to seeing on your social media feed after he’d had a shitty race.

you sigh, bracing yourself for what you are about to say.

“you’re not the only one who hid it.” you raise an eyebrow, your face says ‘guilty!’

“no?” lando’s eyes widen at your revelation.

“i think we were 13. you gave me half a cookie to apologise for pushing me off track.” you smile coyly. “it’s kinda sad but 13 year old me died inside.” you laugh.

“so, we’ve both… liked each other.” lando assesses. you nod.

“when did you stop?” you inquire, scanning his face. you take in each detail, each individual freckle, the curve of his lips. he seems closer, all of the sudden, and that’s when you realise you’ve closed the space between you. lando is within reach now, it would have been so, so incredibly easy to shift even closer still; it was like you were in his gravitational field, reeled in by pretty, pretty eyes.

“who said i stopped?”

“oh.” you breathe.

~ 13

he snaps the crumbly biscuit between his fingers, trails towards her awkwardly. he feels bad, feels a strange pang in his chest that he doesn’t recognise.

he finds her around the back of her parents car, arms crossed, eyebrows scrunched, pouting hard. he thinks she’s cute.

“why are you here?” she whines.

“this is for you. i know it doesn’t make up for the race. i didn’t mean to take you out, i swear.”

he sounds panicked, sincere. her tummy turns funny.

he’s holding out a cookie, the children’s equivalent of an olive branch.

her face softens. she accepts it. they bite into their cookies at the same time.

it’s not the worst day in the world anymore.

messy kisses and soft whispers lull you to sleep.

his nose bumps yours every time your lips meet, gentle and plush.

you feel delicate in his arms, treasured. his lips press gently to your hairline. he’s different, softer than you’ve seen him since you were teenagers splitting cookies.

it’s the easiest thing in the world to curl into his side, mould together until you’re part of him, and drift off.

the heat wakes you up.

you stir, eyes fluttering open, searching for the source of the onslaught of warmth. it clicks quickly, and you realise that you hadn’t dreamt the events of the night before.

lando is in your bed.

lando had protected you.

lando had wanted you since you were stupid kids who didn’t know any better.

he is the heater that had woken you up, and suddenly you don’t care that you’re far too hot. you curl back into his side, head rests on his chest. it rises and falls softly, his heartbeat thrums beneath your ear. you are jealous of how pretty he looks when he’s asleep, relaxed and infatuating. you lose track of time, gazing up at him.

a sharp pain in your side makes you groan. you had fallen asleep in your dress, lando in his jeans and his shirt, and now you’re paying for it, your fingers searching for the zipper that was now digging into your side. your movements draw him out of his slumber, and when you look back at him, he’s watching you, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“you okay?” lando croaks, his voice deep and sleepy. it sends shockwaves through you.

“mhm. how did you sleep?” you ask, mindlessly running your hand over his jaw like it was the most natural thing in the world. a smile breaks out across his face, eyes fluttering shut once more.

“really fucking well.” he laughs, almost in disbelief.

“yeah, me too.” you smile at him, shy.

“what’s bothering you?”

“well, a human heater woke me up and now this fucking zipper is killing me.” you joke. it’s weird that this doesn’t feel weird.

“i am pretty hot i guess.”

“yeah, yeah.” you roll your eyes and stand from the bed.

lando sits up, resting on his elbows. his eyes follow you as you walk around the room. you take a bottle of water, drinking half of it before passing it to him. his lips wrap around the bottle and you have to turn away, the ache between your legs that you’d been fighting for months rearing it’s irritating head. you clear your throat, composing yourself.

“need to get this dress off.”

lando pulls himself off of the mattress, stalking towards you. you stop in your tracks and he meets you at the foot of the bed. his hands find your cheeks, thumbs smoothing over your skin in little circles, and then kisses you deeper than he did last night.

it’s impossible not to melt into him, hands running over his chest, his shoulders, and finally finding solace tangled in his curls. if someone told you the morning before that you’d wake up in lando’s arms, you would have cackled, urged them to seek medical attention, and probably spat in their face. how things change.

“i think you should keep it on, look so pretty.” lando breathes, staring down at you. you blush hard, leaning into him.

“but i’m uncomfortable.” you grin coyly. and then, a surge of confidence has you whispering: “i’ll let you take it off if you want.”

“let me make you comfortable first.” lando murmurs, dipping his head down until it rests in the crook of your neck. “want me to get you nice and comfortable, baby?” he kisses up your neck.

you cave, finally.

it takes him all of thirty seconds to have you spread out on his face, laying himself down on the mattress and pulling you on top of him so that you’re hovering over his lips. he mouthes at your panties for a second, getting his first taste of you, and then he drags them to the side, clearing a path. his tongue laves over your cunt, groaning as soon as he gets a proper taste.

your dress fans out over your thighs, and lando has disappeared beneath the fabric. you can tell he’s there, though, by the strong hands gripping onto your thighs, the tuft of curls peeking out, and the feeling of his nose bumping your clit as he buries his face deeper and deeper between your folds.

“lando.” you cry, throwing your head back. the straps of your dress are slipping down your arms, skimming your goosebump ridden skin. he just groans into your pussy in response, pulling you impossibly closer to his mouth, backwards and forwards until you’re grinding down on his willing tongue. you reach down blindly, grabbing one of his hands where it rests on your thigh, and your other threads through his hair, gripping tight as you revel in the pleasure.

lando pulls your clit between his teeth, grazing over the bud and you’re jolting, writhing above him. you feel like you’re going to die, heat pricking all over your skin, your tummy tight from the building orgasm. he’s so eager, sliding his entire face through your slippery folds, obscene sounds falling from his lips that ricochet through your quivering body.

tears prick your eyes when you finally let go, slumping forwards from the overwhelming sensation taking over every single nerve. he lifts you off of him, laying you back on the bed as you come down from your high.

“you okay, baby?” he coos, brushing sweat dampened hair from your eyes.

his lips are stained, dark pink and shiny, a mixture of enthusiasm and your slick coating them. lando scans your watery eyes, feral at how fucked out you look all because of him, and tantalisingly licks his lips.

“need you.” you moan, reaching out for him. his shirt is wrinkled where he’d slept in it and your shaky hands find the few buttons that are actually done up. you push the material off of his shoulders, pupils blown wide at the sight of his toned chest, at the feel of smooth, golden skin. you pull him in by the shoulders, swallowing him whole as you kiss him with everything you’ve got left.

lando’s hands find your thighs once more, running his hands over them to push your dress up your hips.

“wanted this for so long.” he whispers into the kiss, pulling away so that he can take the dress off of you. he looks ravenous the more he pushes the fabric up your body.

you feel vulnerable under his intense gaze, watchful eyes taking in every movement you make. you try to pull him back in for another kiss but he resists.

“let me look at you, please?” lando asks. “there you go, baby, let’s get this off, hmm?” he sits you up so that he can get it over your head, and you lay back, bare aside from your panties that he’d left in disarray.

he sucks in a breath, raking his eyes over the curve of your lips, your collarbone, the slope of your breasts. his gaze lingers there for just a second, before continuing further over your belly, the length of your legs. you want to hide away, pull him in so that he can’t look at you like this, or just dive under the duvet and stay there until you need to catch your flight.

“god, you’re so, so fucking beautiful.” he gasps, awestruck. he sounds speechless, and you feel yourself going red again.

“come here.” you whine. “needed you for so long.”

your admission seems to kick him into action, because seconds later, he’s on top of you, fingers grazing the band of your underwear while you fiddle with the button on his jeans.

“gonna be good for me, aren’t you?” lando stares you down, tone sending a shiver down your spine. you nod, batting your eyelashes. “words, my love.”

“yes, lando.” you affirm, arching into him. that’s all he needs to know, kicking his jeans away, boxers too.

“good girl. took care of me so well last night, now ‘m gonna take such good care of you.”

your eyes skim his body, honing in on how hard he is. your hand finds his cock, tentative at first, stroking over it softly. it’s heavy in your hands, red and dripping already. he wants this just as bad as you do. you continue to jerk him off, watching the way his eyes squeeze shut and his lips part, soft pants falling out. a low hum sounds from the back of his throat, and you wet your lips, threading your free hand through his hair.

lando opens his eyes at the sensation, gently batting your hand away. he dips down even closer, resting on one of his forearms. he lines himself up and your legs wrap around him instinctively. slowly, he pushes inside of you, his breath catching in his throat.

“fucking hell.” he groans, deep and guttural, something carnal sending shockwaves through his body. “been dreaming about all the ways i’d get to fuck you.”

your eyes roll back and you go languid in his arms, feeling every inch of him slide against your slick walls.

“want you.” you rasp, clinging to him, your fingernails leaving patterns between his taut shoulder blades as you beg for it.

“you have me, baby.” and then he kisses you, messy and slow, stealing the air from your lungs. you’re dizzy when he pulls away, sitting back slightly to change the angle. you cry out, feeling him even deeper and everything is more sensitive, warm. you roll your hips, meeting his thrusts deliciously, and he chokes out a moan as you clamp around him. “yeah, that’s it. fuck yourself like that for me.” he encourages.

this is all too much, too good. you have whiplash, physically and emotionally, eyes pooling with tears as the man you’d wanted so badly that you hated him for it rocks into you. lando hits the right spot every time he pistons his hips harder, and his nimble fingers slide up your abdomen, applying light pressure to your navel that makes you writhe.

“fucking perfect for me. gorgeous.” lando slurs, entranced by the sight of where you’re joined. he can see just how wet you are and it drives him insane, barrelling into you like a man possessed, drunk on every single way that your body responds to him.

his wandering hand finds your breast, kneading it before he traces your nipple. he watches the way it hardens at his manipulation, wetting his lips. he collapses back on top of you, sucking the bud into his mouth. you’re panting, whining beneath him as his tongue swirls over your chest, switching to the other side. you jolt, a silent scream scratching your throat when he slips his hand between your thighs, working your clit with the pad of his thumb. he’s rutting against you, grinding deeper, faster, uncontrollably.

“come on, baby. you’re so close, so tight for me.” he mutters into your skin. you nod frantically, your words lost on you. he kisses over your collarbone, the base of your throat, until he finds your lips.

“so close.” you sigh.

he stops.

“tell me you’re all mine.” lando growls, his entire demeanour changing. the tone of his voice almost finishes you off but you’re suddenly enraged. you’re too close for him to stop.

“c’mon lando.” you hiss, trying to move your hips but he has you firmly in place.

“need to hear you say it.” his hand slithers over your chest, finding a new home at the base of your throat. it makes you throb, the way his thick fingers wrap around you. slowly, his grip tightens, and you see an opportunity.

you buck your hips hard, whimpering at the sensation, but your plan works and now you hover over him. he’s still buried inside you, and you can feel him pulsing as you steal control.

“for once in your life, honey, shut the fuck up.” you smirk, mischievous in victory.

slowly, you build up your rhythm. he feels bigger like this, deeper, and you almost lose yourself in the small circles you make with your hips.

“knew you’d be like this. you liked giving yourself to me but i just knew you’d need to take back control.” lando teases. his hand is back around your neck, squeezing slowly, and you grind frantically, dizzy for him. “i was right last night, wasn’t i, baby? pretending to be my good girl when really,” he pulls you down so that you’re chest to chest. “you’re just a fucking brat.”

lando holds you close as he fucks up into you, feeling the way you go limp on top of him as the pleasure washes over you like a million electric shocks. you’re crying, tears pooling on his chest, because there is nothing you can do, nothing you want to do, but take it. he’s got you right where he wants you, and you’re loving every fucking second of it.

“yeah, baby, take it how you want it.” lando commands through gritted teeth, and you move your hips in a feeble attempt to match his speed. everything is slippery, everything feels wet and flushed.

the power play, the position, the frenzy he seems to be in as he fucks you, it all has you gushing, spilling all over him. you choke out a sob, shuddering as the elastic band in your belly snaps. lando stops his thrusts, replacing them with small rolls of his hips to help you through your orgasm.

a sharp breath and a string of curses from him give you the strength to muster the last little bits of energy you have left to look up at him. you pull your head up off of his chest just in time to watch him shatter into a million little pieces.

his neck flexes as his head rolls back, sinking into the pillow, his eyes tight. swollen lips part and your name falls from between them like a prayer. you can feel him filling you up, his hands tightening their hold on your hips like he’s scared to let go, like the world will stop if he does.

the world stops anyway, because then you’re looking at each other. really looking at each other.

it only takes a second for you to be drawn in and his hands leave your hips to cup your face. his calloused hands feel your skin, stroking over rosy patches on your cheeks. it’s deathly silent all around you, apart from the breathless pants you share.

swollen lips crash hard into yours and you melt. he’s still buried so deeply inside of you, your hips digging into his, impossibly close. you’re blindly reaching for any part of him you can get your hands on, and his big hands slide down your body until they meet the small of your back. ever so carefully, he flips you onto your back, easing your spent body into the mattress.

lando collapses on top of you, mouthes at your neck for a moment, delicate kisses making your eyes flutter shut. the eye contact almost sends you into cardiac arrest as he pulls out, oh so slowly. tease.

he holds you close in the shower, fingers massaging every part of you. sex and sweat are washed away, almost lovingly. you let the water run for far too long, content in clinging to him. it’s quiet, reflective time for both of you, exactly what it needs to be. you’re both hung up on questions that need to be asked, neither one of you brave enough to take the first steps. you know one thing, and one thing only: something has changed, in a forever kind of way.

your hair is stringy, half dry, and you’re stood in your underwear. your legs are still shaky.

“your flight soon?” lando asks. he’s stood in his boxers on the other side of the room, scrunching the water out of his curls.

“yeah.” your throat feels raw.

“and you’re going back to monaco?” he’s stopped what he’s doing now, staring at you. you can see the cogs turning behind his eyes.

you nod.

“fancy a sleepover?” he grins, boyish and careless. your heart falls to your feet.

you’re giggling when he sweeps you into his arms and kisses you into the freshly made bed. the sheets are on the floor by the time you finally remember you have a flight to catch.

you’re his now, you realise. he’s too beautiful for his own damn good.

“baby?” you hear lando call from his bedroom. you make out the faint sound of his footsteps making their way in your direction. he appears before you can even answer him, and he’s smiling softly at the sight of you bundled up in a blanket, sprawled across his couch.

“what is it?” you ask. the next thing you know he’s on top of you, peppering kisses over every single inch of skin he can get to on your face. “hey, get off, muppet.” you whine playfully, ruffling his hair.

“do you know how much i love having you here?” he murmurs. it’s endearing as fuck and you fight a foolish, dopey grin.

“you’ve mentioned once or twice…” you’ve been here since your flight touched down a week ago. you haven’t even been home to get clothes, not that you needed them in his company.

“we might have a teeny, tiny issue.” he squints, pulling a face.

“and what’s that?” you ask, your voice measuring equal parts cautious and amused.

“so, alex called…”

“oh, shit.”

“we have to go to dinner tonight.”

“we have to?”

“he’s suspicious as fuck. you do realise they’ve been plotting for us to happen for years,” you roll your eyes as if you say duh. “and also, you’ve been in monaco for a week and haven’t seen him once. oh, and also, the last time we saw them, we were running away from a fucking crime scene.” lando smiles sarcastically, and you sigh, defeated.

before you can reply, your phone is ringing somewhere beside you. you root around in your blanket searching for it and when you find it:

“son of a bitch.” you exclaim, showing lando the caller ID. alex is one persistent motherfucker.

“hey girl.” alex singsongs down the phone before you can even say hello.

“hello to you too.” you can hear the fear in your own voice.

“dinner. tonight. although, i’m sure lando already told you.” alex teases.

“why would lando have told me? what?” you choke. lando slaps his hand over his face. your voice has gone up several octaves. not suspicious at all.

“so, you’re at home? you haven’t been at his place since last week?” the playful interrogation begins.

“why would i be with lando?” you try and feign disgust at the implication. it does not work.

“because you hate fucked after he beat up that perv? i have to say, i didn’t think he had it in him but he’s been in love with you since he was like, ten, so, you know-”

“bye alex.”’

“you’re not denying it-“

“bye alex!”

you’re flaming red when you throw the phone to the other end of the sofa. lando, as on brand as ever, is cackling into a pillow.

“he is such a fucking shit stirrer.” you bury your face in your hands, slumping back into the fuzzy cushions.

“well, he’s right about one thing.” lando trails off. suddenly he’s looking anywhere but you and you see him gulp, hard, swallowing his words, like he’s too afraid to bare his soul.

“huh?” you ask gently, sitting up to reach out for him. “what’s wrong?”

“we need to get ready for dinner. that’s what he’s right about.” lando says, standing from the sofa and walking towards his room. you’re suspicious, watching him go with furrowed eyebrows.

“lando, behave! you’re the one making me go to this dinner.” you squeal, batting his restless hands away.

you’ve made it as far as the elevator before he pounces on you, caging you in against the metal walls.

“but you look so good, can’t help myself.” he mutters between kisses on your neck, pressing himself even further into you.

the hand that finds it’s way between your legs, exploring beyond the hem of your skirt, is the one that makes you press the button for his floor. why have plans when you can have sex?

he gets through the door to his apartment at lighting speed and carries you all the way to his bed.

when you’re sweating and breathless a good hour later, half of the bedding on the floor with your clothes, you realise you never cancelled your plans.

lando is drawing shapes into the bare skin of your arm, kissing over your shoulder as he does so. his eyes are dropping from all of the over-exertion and you want to count each and every freckle on his face while he falls asleep. he’s cute like this, soft and yours.

and idea comes to your mind, and as if he can see the lightbulb, lando half raises an eyebrow at you. you giggle, somewhat evilly perhaps, and scramble for your phone on the beside table.

“what’re you doing?” lando groans, pouting as his outstretched arms try to find you.

“getting even.” you state.

with the phone in your clutches, you roll back over towards him, holding the camera above you both. he hears the shutter sound as you snap the picture, and peers closer to see the screen. when he sees the groupchat open, he quickly understands what you’re plotting.

“may i?” you ask for his consent.

“are you kidding? go for it. that’ll shut them up.” he laughs sleepily, muttering something about how this is the most lando thing you’ve ever done

FROM: you

TO: the groupchat

1 image attached

couldn’t make dinner. something came up xx

“alex always thinks he’s right, this’ll teach him for being such a little shit.” you flop back into bed even more satisfied than you were before.

you hear lando inhale shakily beside you.

“he is right sometimes you know.” he repeats his earlier words.

you hold your breath. his eyes say so many things that are too delicate to be spoken yet.

“like… like what he said on the phone?” your voice quivers with anticipation, fear. your heart is thunderous, hammering away like it wants to escape the clutches of its cage.

“yeah. i-“ he stops himself. you don’t need him to finish, you know which two words follow. they can follow in good time, you both know it.

“me too, lando.” you coo.

he’s beaming, eyes half shut. you watch as he falls asleep, the both of you ignoring the way your phones are vibrating so aggressively that they might buzz their way off of the night stand. you lose count of his freckles, but it doesn’t matter.

you’ll have plenty of time to figure it out.

let me know what you think :D

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne @spideylovin

(i ran out of tags omg? whoops) lemme know if you wanna be added or removed <3

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astonmartingf · 3 months

Text

WISH YOU HELL ; OP81

oscar piastri x mclaren driver!reader

. . . calm and collected oscar? wrong! it's like hamilton and alonso all over again with more awkward silence and banter instead of attempted murder

next: his car isn't yours

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, mclaren, and 983,048 others

oscarpiastri i'll miss you landonorris please don't forget about me, thank you for making my first season memorable 🧡

view 453,021 comments...

user1 we only got one season with them 🥹

user2 i'm happy for lando but i miss him with Oscar already

user3 landoscar you were bigger than the whole sky

landonorris we'll see each other on track mate, don't miss me too much 😘

oscarpiastri i will miss you

maxverstappen1 he's mine now

oscarpiastri okay shut up braggart 🙄

landonorris i'll just go with yourusername instead

yourusername why am i mentioned? congratulations lando!!!!

oscarpiastri why are you here? you can't resist searching for me 😉

yourusername 🤓☝️ actually lando mentioned me, clearly he like me more than you

oscarpiastri he may like you, but he liked me first

landonorris okay knock it off

maxverstappen1 you guys are acting like children

landonorris technically they are children

carlossainz55 and you're not lando?

landonorris why am i catching strays? this post is about me?

user4 i'm still shocked... i thought we would have more seasons with them together

user5 congratulations to lando, and oscar as well as yn 🫶

user6 it hasn't been 24 hours and they're getting emotional already

user7 all i know is the oscaryn dynamic will be bomb

user8 bomb as in they'll both explode each other

user9 HAHAHAHAHAHA you might be on to smth actually

user10 two more months before the season begins i'm going insane

user11 the oscar yn tea is piping hot i wonder what oscar thinks

user12 to be a fly when lando, oscar, and yn saw each other in MTC

landonorris storytime...

yourusername shut up lando

oscarpiastri bad idea man

user13 the only time they agree with each other...

user14 what did they do in mtc?!????!?!? landonorris you better tell us

landonorris 🤐

yourusername we're contractually not allowed to say anything

user15 wow, i actually can't wait for this season to start, the pinnacle of motorsport and the drivers are acting like 15 year olds

user16 if you think about it... oscar and yn are 15

user17 FOUL!!!!!

yourusername

liked by logansargent, landonorris, and 459,235 others

yourusername bye lando, hello me

view 109,743 comments...

user18 OMGHOSH I'M ACTUALLY 😭😭😭

user19 CONGRATULATIONS!!!!! 🎉🥳👏

mclaren welcome to the team 🧡

yourusername i won't let you down, let's get these podiums 🧡

user20 I'M SUCH A PROUD MOTHER 👏👏👏 YN SLAY THESE MEN DOWN

user21 baby is in her drram team omhjmh i'm cryingt

user22 congratulations yn 🧡🧡🧡

user23 using lando as a meme like that... pr moves

user24 wow, she's so ungrateful

landonorris you actually posted the meme!!! i'm so proud of you 🧡

yourusername thank you so much for all your support lan, it's a shame we couldn't race together

landonorris you can always look at the rear of my car

yourusername HA HA HA, watch as i overtake you

landonorris i'll be waiting for you

oscarpiastri congratulations yn 👏

yourusername who paid you to post this

[comment has been deleted]

yourusername thank you oscar. let's have a good season together 🧡

user25 help they're so awkward

user26 i'm actually laughing 😭😭😭

user27 this might be the most excited i've been for a season

amgf it's still me just in a different account, hello guys <3

#f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 fluff #oscar piastri smau #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fluff

1K notes · View notes

theemporium · 5 months

Note

blurb request for oscar - maybe he gets jealous/possessive and this is the first time you see this side of him

thank you for requesting! and thank you to @scuderiahoney for brainstorming with me since it's partially her fault i am writing oscar again!!🫶🏽

It genuinely didn’t bother him at first. Or at least, not that much.

He had noticed it. He would have been fucking blind to not notice it. In fact, he wasn’t the only one to notice it because Lando had brought it up to him. They had been walking through the paddock, making their way back towards the garage after a press conference when he spotted the two of you in the distance.

“Does it not bother you?” Lando had asked, pausing whatever conversation they had been talking about to nod towards where you were standing.

Truthfully, Oscar didn’t even need to follow his line of sight to know exactly what he was talking about. But he did anyway, maybe because some twisted part of him liked torturing himself that little bit more when he found you deep in conversation with one of the intern engineers—Oscar vaguely remembers his name being Greg or something along the lines.

“No,” Oscar told him, and it was only partially a lie. “She’s just talking to him.”

“They seem close,” Lando noted, glancing towards his teammate with a knowing look.

“I trust her,” Oscar had replied. And he did trust you. He trusted you irrevocably. He trusted you with his life and his heart. But that didn’t mean something deep in his stomach twisted whenever he saw you laughing away with Greg.

“It’s not her I think you should worry about,” Lando muttered under his breath, but they had reached the garage by that point and the conversation never continued.

But despite his trust in you, he didn’t trust Greg—not one single fucking bit.

Because it wasn’t just a passing interaction or a budding friendship. It was starting to creep into something more, something so slow and subtle that maybe other people didn’t notice but Oscar fucking did. He noticed it every single time.

The second he wasn’t by your side, Greg would jump in. The second he had to get in the car or talk to his team, it seemed like Greg had taken it upon himself to keep you company. The second you were in the paddock after not attending a few races, Greg would be greeting you like he hadn’t seen you in years.

Oscar tried to push down the bitter feelings bubbling in his stomach. You didn’t look uncomfortable or bothered by Greg’s company, and the last thing he wanted to do was come off as some controlling, territorial boyfriend who dictated who you spoke to. If anything, it should have been reassuring to him that you were making friends in the paddock to spend time with when he was busy with the team.

He just really wished it wasn’t Greg.

Yet, despite his restraint and promise to himself to keep his mouth shut as long as you were happy, Oscar could only be pushed so far before he snapped.

It was a good race. In fact, it was a great fucking race. After what seemed like a disappointing qualifying that was setting up a shittier race, Oscar hadn’t had high hopes for the weekend. In fact, nobody in the team did—for either car. But it felt like something had just come alive in the car and the second the lights went out, there was a new buzz that had him speeding through the pack.

It wasn’t a podium weekend, which was always a gutting occurrence. But ending the race in P4 was more than enough for Oscar when the team weren’t even sure if he would make it in the points. He was buzzed, he was on a high and he felt like some of the stress of this weekend had been taken off his shoulders.

However, when he made his way back to the garage to celebrate with the team and you, he was confused when he was unable to find you the second he got out of the car. That confusion fizzled into something far more bitter and resentful when he noticed Greg huddled beside you, yapping your ear off as you stood there, nodding and smiling.

He didn’t even realise he was making his way over until he had saddled up beside you, his arm curled around waist like the touch would ease some of the tightness in his chest.

“Sorry, mate, mind if I just steal my girlfriend for a second?” The words had left his mouth, but the usual friendliness was long gone. His words were sharp, blunt even. And he genuinely couldn’t bring himself to care in that moment as he dragged you away before Greg even had the chance to open his mouth, his body working on pure muscle memory to lead you both to his driver room.

It hadn’t even hit him what he had done until the two of you were finally in the privacy of his driver room, the door locked and the rest of the world shut out.

“Oscar,” you said his name and the tightness in his chest returned.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out before you could even say anything more. “I just…he is always there. He is always fucking there and I just wanted you for myself just once. All I could think about since I crossed that line was hugging you and then I got out the car and I just saw him and—”

But his rambles died on his tongue when he caught the way you were staring at him, a soft smile playing on your lips.

“What? Why are you smiling like that?” Oscar questioned, his brows furrowing together. “I just acted like a caveman and you’re smiling.”

“A caveman,” you repeated with a snort, shaking your head before you took a step closer to your boyfriend. “Well, caveman or not, I thought it was kinda hot.”

Oscar blinked. “Huh?”

However, you just shrugged your shoulders. “What? You’re always so calm and collected, it was nice seeing you get a little worked up.”

He watched your expression closely. “So, you’re not mad?”

Your face softened as you reached for the boy, winding your arms around his waist. “I’m not mad, Oscar. If anything, I’m more relieved. He was kinda annoying, like he never shuts up.”

Oscar let out a relieved breath, but his frown remained as he took your face in his hands. “You should have told me if he was bothering you.”

You shrugged again. “It didn’t seem worth the drama,” you admitted. “You should have told me if it upset you.”

“I didn’t wanna seem like a dick,” he confessed with a sheepish expression on his face. He paused for a moment before thinking better of it, pulling you against his chest as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. “I promise I’ll tell you next time if you tell me too.”

“Deal,” you murmured as you sunk into his embrace. You waited a few moments, expecting the boy to pull away but he never did. “You good?”

“Yeah,” he spoke, his breath fanning over the skin of your neck. “Just…makin’ up for the lost time he stole from me.”

You snorted. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” he hummed innocently.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you assured the boy, smiling a little when you felt a soft peck against your neck. “But I would really appreciate it if you could go shower first. You kinda stink.”

Oscar snorted. “Geez. Thanks.”

You grinned. “C’mon, caveman, the quicker you shower, the quicker I’ll hug you again.”

#oscar piastri #formula one #f1 #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

1K notes · View notes

unsolvedjarin · 8 months

Note

I was going through a Charles video that mentioned him blacking out in the car at some point. Since I’m a sucker for angst, I was wondering what it would be like for mentor!Seb if it were the reader in that situation instead. Perhaps the season before the one he retires? And maybe we could see more of the reader’s friendship with Charles? Only if you feel inspired by it, of course.

Either way, thank you for sharing your fics with us. They are my favorites and I’m really grateful for having found your blog.

gif by luchitohamilton

EVERY UNIVERSE.

pairing: (mentor! sebastian vettel x ferrari driver! reader) (charles leclerc x teammate! reader)

summary: qatar is a difficult, hot, and taxing track. that along with you having food poisoning, well…that might not end too well for you. thankfully you can always rely on sebastian and charles to be there for you.

word count: 4k

note: can you guys tell i took inspo from mark webber throwing up in his car and the qatar race this year? it was so sad to watch everyone seem so tired especially lance and logan. anyways, the plot kinda got away from me at the end, i do apologize but the seb feels were too intense 😵‍💫

content warning: car crash, mentions of throwing up, inaccurate depictions of food poisoning

part of this series but can be read without!

“Ready?”

A familiar voice makes you turn around from your pre-race preparations. “Depends on what your definition of ready is.”

Charles smiles, “I know it’s our first race in Qatar but c’mon, it isn’t that bad.”

“Isn’t that bad? I might melt in the car! Doesn’t help that I almost missed this one because of food poisoning.”

“Ah yes, how could I forget that,” he teases. He couldn’t forget it, because you’d been complaining about it endlessly for the past three days. You had food poisoning because Mark Webber invited you to lunch on Thursday, and accidentally gave you something dodgy. You’ve yet to forgive the man. “Well at least you’re starting from P4. Lets you fight for P1, no?”

“Against Lewis and Charles? Please. In my dreams, maybe. Plus, you’re starting P3, asshole.” You retort, turning back around to put your balaclava on. The second it’s on your head, though, it gets pulled off, and you look behind you for the perpetrator. “Charles give it b– SEBASTIAN!”

The Aston Martin driver gives you a grin before hugging you tightly, lifting you off the ground a bit. You didn’t expect to see him before the race, but the surprise was definitely welcome.

“Oh but if it was me I would have gotten scolded,” Charles mutters, but his complaints were left unheard.

“Just came to wish you luck before the race starts. P4! You’re going to get a podium, I’m sure of it,” Sebastian beams, letting you go from the hug.

“That’s what Charles said too. He was more delusionally optimistic, though. Said I was gonna win.”

“Because I believe in you! Is that so bad?” Charles complains from the side, his comment ignored once again.

“Well maybe Charles is right— you could win. Meanwhile I’m starting in the midfield, again.” Sebastian complains, groaning a little bit.

“Oh cheer up Seb, you survived Ferrari for 6 years, you’ll live.”

He lights up a bit at your joke, moving to say something before an Aston Martin mechanic shows up outside the Ferrari garage. He wasn’t allowed inside, but it was obvious he was looking for Sebastian– who also wasn’t allowed inside, yet mysteriously got in. Nothing to do with him being friends with your mechanics of course, yeah, totally not.

“Ah shoot, well it looks like they’re looking for me,” Sebastian sighs. He starts to walk away before he pauses and moves back towards you, “Hey, stay safe, okay? New track, it’s dangerous. I know we’ve done practice and quali but you can never be too careful. Plus, it’s sweltering hot. Hydrate.”

You roll your eyes fondly, “Yes, dad.”

His face scrunches up a little, “Don’t ever call me that again, I’m not that old.”

“You could barely work my Instagram the other day! All I asked was for you to open Lewis’ stories!”

“Psh, whatever. I have to go, see you after the race, yeah?” He asks, giving your arm a quick squeeze. You nod, murmuring a goodbye to him. He wishes Charles good luck too, before saving his engineer from the Ferrari mechanics blocking him.

“So he can pull your balaclava off– which you hate, by the way, let me remind you– but if I even try adjusting your helmet straps so it’s safer you slap me off?” Charles speaks up, making you break eye contact from the Ferrari garage doors.

You roll your eyes at him with a smile, “You have got to forget that. It was one time. And it was a soft slap to the shoulder!”

“The point still stands,” he retorts, making you give up on the conversation.

“Whatever, Charlie. Just get ready for the race. Stay safe, okay?” you say, putting your balaclava on again. He gives you a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving, a sign of good luck between the two of you. It makes you smile a little before you hop into your car.

Okay. Qatar. New track, new conditions, but still the same old you. You could do this.

The lights go off one by one, and you grip the steering wheel with anticipation like you always did. Race starts still made you nervous no matter how long you’d been racing. One light goes off…then the next…then the third…the fourth one follows…and then…

“AND IT’S LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO!”

The first few laps were a breeze, maintaining your position in fourth despite Fernando being on your tail the whole time. You noticed the car was slightly hotter than usual, but decided to ignore it and chalk it up to new changes in the engine.

Around lap 25 you started to feel a bit dizzy and sick during the sharp corners, cursing yourself internally for having such bad timing with the food poisoning. “Charles is 0.200 seconds ahead, feel free to overtake,” your engineer buzzes through the radio.

“Copy,” you reply, not really paying attention, still feeling sick. You overtake Charles with ease around the outside, him not putting up much of a fight because it would have taken both of you out. Now you just had to maintain this position for…dear god, 32 laps.

“Lewis 5 seconds ahead, focus on tire degradation instead.” Your engineer’s warning goes unheard, though, as you noticed the cockpit was getting way too fucking hot.

“The car’s burning up,” you say into your radio, getting only a simple “Copy, we are checking,” back.

“Okay, Y/N there are no problems with your engines, I repeat; no problem.”

What? That’s impossible. You felt like you were melting in there. “Are you sure? Can you ask Charles if his car feels like the sun too?”

“Negative, focus on the race.”

Oh you were going to kill them one day– if they don’t kill you first. A few more laps passed in those horrible conditions before turn 5 rolled around and as you swerved your car, you started to see black spots around your vision.

That can’t be good, you think, having to close your eyes for a second before shaking your head and snapping yourself back into the race. Thankfully Charles had pitted earlier and had a 3 second gap to you. “I don’t feel too well.”

“Copy. Is it the car?”

“Well it’s definitely part of the problem.”

The next few turns were torture, your head bobbing around as you faded in and out of consciousness through the fast corners. Charles was catching up now, and you knew if you didn’t do something soon, he would pass you.

You wanted this podium. You needed it. If you got P3 you would grab P4 on driver standings.

There was a slow corner coming up that was a good overtaking spot, and so you had to defend.

As the turn came around– faster than you expected– the extreme heat of the car, your headache, sweat, food poisoning, and dizziness came together and you suddenly felt light, as if you were flying, before a jolt knocked you out of your consciousness completely.

You were out for less than a minute, but that minute counted for everything. You completely turned into Charles, him having to swerve onto the gravel just so you wouldn’t crash into each other. Your car, however, still had more speed in it, and you were headed towards the wall on the very far side of the gravel.

Thankfully, the rough rocks had shook you awake enough that you were able to swerve away from the wall extremely last minute and only take the tail and back wheel of your car out.

The next few seconds were a blur.

You still felt faint, but could hear a muffled voice headed towards you. You knew the back of your car was completely ruined and you were out of the race, and you put your helmet in your hands in disappointment. You were having such a good run before this happened. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The muffled voice running towards you was closer now, and you registered it to be Charles. He was saying something but you could barely hear him with how your ears were ringing and how the seat of the car was still hot.

The man quickly realized you weren’t hearing him, and opted to come closer and lift your visor up. “Smoke. Car. Get out!”

He didn’t need to tell you twice. You pushed yourself up but barely, Charles having to lift you up by your shoulders. Once out of the car you completely collapsed on the floor, only having your teammate catch you.

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” you say drowsily, still fighting the urge to pass out.

“Safety car is coming, stay with me now,” he replies, tapping your helmet so you stay awake. You were grateful your friend was there with you.

On track, however, Sebastian had just been informed of what went down. “What the fuck? What happened?”

“L/N completely turned into Leclerc. Driver error, push on for P9.”

Sebastian hated how his engineer sounded like a robot reporting a technical statistic. He saw the aftermath of the accident for a split second, and it didn’t look like your car was in good shape. He worries about what shape you were in. “Are they okay?”

“Safety car is coming out for L/N and to crane the car, but other than that they seem fine.”

“Injuries?”

“Please focus on the race, Sebastian.”

“INJURIES!” he shouts into his radio, annoyed. He wouldn’t be able to focus on the race until he knew you were alright.

“Uh…L/N seems to be out of it and on the floor, but they’re okay. They’ll be fine, Seb.” His engineer adds the last statement to reassure the man. He knew you meant a lot to him. Seb nods to himself in the car, carrying on with the race. The faster this finished the faster he could get to you.

The safety car came out and they all slowed down, Sebastian finally being able to take a second long look at the accident. Your car was still there, the smoke coming out of it being extinguished by a personnel. Sebastian thinks he ought to have a word with the Ferrari mechanics after the race. He then notices you, on your knees in the gravel, only being kept up by a driver he can only assume to be Charles. Sebastian thinks that should be him there supporting you, but at the same time he’s glad he wasn’t the one who you nearly crashed into. He couldn’t have it on his consciousness that he could have hit you.

“‘m sorry for ruining your race,” you mumble, still being held up by Charles. The man shakes his head, “It was ruined before that, don’t worry. My engine was acting up.”

You knew he was lying to make you feel better, his engine was completely fine. He was headed for the podium earlier, his first in a while. And you completely botched his chance to get it. The thought makes you sob a little, along with the fact that you ruined your own race.

Crying wasn’t the greatest thing to do, though, as it only made you more lightheaded. Charles notices this and takes your helmet off for you, despite your protests pre-race. You were grateful that he did, though, as the second he took your helmet and balaclava off you felt like you had a breath of fresh air for the first time.

“Better?”

You nod, unable to speak. You still felt dizzy and sick. Charles felt annoyed that the safety personnel were taking so long to get to you, waving them over to walk quicker. Squinting your eyes a little, you find them with some health personnels, and you sink a little lower into the gravel.

“God not again,” you groan, remembering the events that unfolded back in Spa. You did not need to go to the medical tent. As you attempt to get up, however, you fall back down as your vision blurred. Looks like medical tent it is again.

The rest of the race went particularly well. Lewis won the race and Fernando got his first podium since 2014– which you reminded yourself to congratulate him for once you were out of the medical tent– and Seb ended up P9, a position higher than where he started. That would usually be a mediocre result but with his shitty car, you were pretty impressed.

“Water?” A familiar voice makes you look away from the TV screen in the room. Charles sat beside your bed, holding a plastic bottle of water. You nod and take it from him, chugging the cool liquid down.

“Sorry again for ruining your race,” you say as you finish drinking. Charles shakes his head, “Stop apologizing. You passed out, that was no fault of yours.”

“You passed out!?” A loud concerned voice makes both of you snap your head towards the door of the room. Sebastian stood there, still in his race suit like the both of you, a shocked look on his face.

“Is that what happened? You passed out mid race?” He asks again, but this time softer. He walks towards your medical bed– which you insisted you didn’t need– before putting his hand on your forehead to check if you had a fever. The action makes you giggle, but Sebastian had a serious look that shut you up quickly.

He shakes his head with a sigh, “You have a bit of a fever.”

“Any other fun observations?”

Sebastian didn’t seem to be in the mood for your wit, though. “You could have been injured. Just a few meters and you could have fully hit the wall. If you were just a few seconds late waking up you would have–”

He shuts his eyes and stops himself. He didn’t want to think about what could have happened anymore. His voice got wobbly during the end of his statement, making you realize that he was stopping himself from crying. You absentmindedly sit up and reach for his hand, squeezing it gently.

“I’m here, Seb. And I’m fine. Look at me.”

The older driver does, slowly opening his eyes. You squeeze his hand a second time, a soft smile on your lips. “I’m here. And look, I’m completely fine. You’re not getting rid of me that quickly old man.”

Seb lets out a chuckle at that, moving to hug you tightly.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he mumbles into your hair. “Why did you even pass out?”

“I was already a little dizzy before getting in the car because of the heat but I tried ignoring it. The car was overheating too and it made me dehydrated, I think. My drink pouch wasn’t a lot of help either when the water was steaming hot. Plus…” you trail off, not really wanting to talk ill of Webber.

“Mark gave her food poisoning when he took her to lunch,” Charles butted in, making you give him a look. You forgot he was in the room.

“Mark? As in Webber?” Sebastian asks, Charles nodding in response. “The bastard.”

“Oh c’mon Seb, he just wanted to treat me to lunch. It’s not like he poisoned my food on purpose.”

Seb sighs deeply before agreeing, “You’re right. Sorry. I’m just– I don’t know.”

“I get it. I mean, this is my second time at the medical tent in three months. Makes you think how accident prone I am,” you joke. Sebastian laughs, and you’re glad you got the worried look in his face away.

“The one in Spa was completely your fault, but we may have to pin this one on Mark,” Seb teases. You shoot him a grin, “Yeah, we can say that.”

Before you could talk more, though, a PR person from both Ferrari and Aston Martin came in to fetch Charles and Sebastian.

“What about me?” you ask, getting up from your bed. It wasn’t like you were injured or anything, you were just a little sick and had a bit of a stomach ache. You’d already thrown up earlier, so you felt pretty normal now.

“Sorry, we have orders to keep you here.”

You scoff, “Please. What can they do if I walk out?”

Before the Ferrari PR agent could reply, though, you were already out the room. She stands there helpless, making Sebastian and Charles chuckle to each other before following you. You were always stubborn when you wanted to be.

The second you’re out of the medical tent, camera flashes overwhelm your eyes. You walk past them as you always do, but the contrast of the light to the night sky makes you a bit lightheaded again, having to hold Sebastian’s arm for support. He moves your hand from his arm to his own hand, interlocking it with yours and pull you through the crowd. There were no words needed to be said, he always knew what you needed. You’re starting to think he can read minds.

Once past the annoying lot of cameras, you make it to the media pen where at least they pestered you in a more civil way. The interviewers were all over you and Charles, looking for some inside scoop on ‘Ferrari drama.’ Turns out, the media thought you tried to purposely take Charles out a la brocedes style. Because of this you had to clarify to every person you talked to that, “No, I did not try to take Charles out on purpose. I passed out. We’re good. Yes, we’re still friends.”

Once that was all over, you headed over to the Channel 4 area to give a certain someone a piece of your mind. “Mark Webber.”

The man turns around to the mention of his full name, smiling when he notices who it is. “Y/N! Glad you’ve come and joined us! We’re on in about five minutes, we can do a segment about the crash but if you wanna talk about something else on screen that’s fine too, we can–”

“You gave me food poisoning!” you butt in. “I cannot believe you.” His coworkers give him a look, as if they were holding in a laugh at him being scolded.

Mark stands there with his mouth agape, unsure what to say. “Wasn’t that three days ago? Are you sure it’s me?”

Rolling your eyes, you reply, “Yes, I’m sure it’s you. It started three days ago, and guess who I was with when I ate something unusual three days ago? Oh right, it’s you!”

He pauses for a moment before bursting into laughter, trying to cover his mouth to no avail. “Sorry, it’s not funny that you almost crashed, I’m glad you’re safe, but– ha!– I cannot believe it was because of the dodgy Indian food!”

You gave him a shove, trying to act mad, but the smile on your face betrayed you. His laughter was contagious. “You are such an asshole.”

“Awh cheer up,” he gives you a side hug, ruffling your hair a little. “Sorry for giving you food poisoning, mate. I’ll make it up to you, whaddya think about lunch on me tomorrow?”

You escape his side hug when you hear him say that, “Absolutely not! I’m never trusting you again with food recommendations.”

The statement makes him laugh again, and you chuckle along with him. Hard to be mad at someone who didn’t do it on purpose. Sebastian walked over to the two of you, having watched the interaction from afar.

“Look who’s coming over,” Mark mumbled, making you notice Seb trying to pretend to just ‘bump’ into the two of you. “Still competitive ‘till now, eh? Don’t worry, I’m not trying to out-mentor you,” Mark says out loud, grabbing the attention of the German.

Seb tilts his head with a faux oblivious look, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He grabs you by the arm and ‘discreetly’ pulls you over to his side. ‘No idea’ my ass.

The Australian scoffs with a grin, “Whatever you say mate. Listen, I gotta get back because our feed is going live in a few minutes, but you two take care, alright? Nice to see you again Seb.”

“You too, Mark.” Sebastian replies, this time genuinely. While the media knew the two drivers were now on good terms, they didn’t know just how close they had gotten. The two went bowling at least once every two months just to catch up with each other, you being there for half their competitions– yes, they still competed. Apparently that sense of wanting to beat your former teammate does not go away. So far this year, Mark’s been winning.

Before Mark completely walked away, he looked back at you for a second, “Oh, and, I am happy you got out injury free from that nasty crash. Genuinely glad you’re okay. Sorry that my dodgy food contributed to your sickness.”

You wave him off, “It’s fine, Mark. It’s not like you could’ve known I would get food poisoning. Although, next time maybe check online reviews.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he smiled, waving you a goodbye as he ran to his coworkers who were already getting impatient.

You shake your head with a grin, “Well at least that’s over with.”

Sebastian slings his arm around your shoulder, “True. So want to get dinner?”

“Absolutely not. I think I’m done with food for a good while.”

“Well you have to eat something,” he insists, as you both walk through the paddock. “How about we get room service?”

“Eh, it’s late, I don’t really want a repeat of Monaco 2019.”

Monaco 2019 was when you and Seb got room service at 10pm because you didn’t check the time. Safe to say the staff weren’t very happy with that. You both felt so bad while eating that food.

“We can just get McDonalds then,” you suggest.

“McDonalds?” Charles asks, popping out from god knows where.

“Jesus, where the hell were you hiding? The atoms?” You ask.

“I was here the whole time.”

“You were not,” Sebastian comments. Charles simply shrugs, tagging along with the two of you, not caring that he was obviously third wheeling a moment. “So McDonalds?”

You roll your eyes, “Yes, McDonalds. But you’re paying because you’re tagging along.”

“No fair! Sebastian is richer than me!”

You both give Charles a look at the same time. Charles thinks it’s eerie how alike the two of you were.

“Charles,” Sebastian starts, patting the Monegasque’s back with one arm with his other still slung around your shoulders. Your accident made him very clingy, but you weren’t about to tell him that. “Let me phrase this as nicely as I can; you are from Monaco. You are rich.”

Charles lets out a sigh, “Fine. I’ll buy the food.”

You clap, “Fuck yeah! Food on the rich man!”

“We have the same salary in our contracts?”

“Shh, that’s not important,” you say, shushing Charles. “Food on the rich man! Although, we may have to go to the hotel right after and just get take out. I can feel Mark’s Indian food from three days ago still fighting with me.”

Charles is the one to roll his eyes this time, “I’ll get the car so we can get there faster, your highness.”

“Thank you, Lord Perceval.”

“Don’t call me that!” he shouts, already walking away to the parking lot.

That left you and Sebastian alone again, just enjoying the company of one another, walking slowly down the paddocks. There were few people now, most having gone back to their hotels to call it a night.

“You know, I’m glad I found you.”

The words make you look up at the older driver, who you find smiling at you. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean obviously we would find each other, there’s only so many drivers in Formula One. But I mean I’m glad I found you in this life.”

“Do you think we don’t find each other in other lives?”

Sebastian pauses and thinks for a second. He’s thought about the other career paths he could have taken throughout his life– other lives he could have lived. He knows there’s no logical way, but he thinks he still would have found you in those lives. The thought makes him smile to himself.

“No, I think we do.”

“Well then good. Because me too,” you reply, giving him a smile of your own. “Why did you suddenly think about it though?”

Sebastian shrugs, “I don’t know. I just felt suddenly sentimental. Feels like a chapter of my life closed but I’m not sure what or why.”

Little did he know that he would start contemplating retirement a few weeks after that.

“Oh well, it doesn’t matter. Whether we find each other in other lifetimes, I mean.”

Seb raises his eyebrow, him now being the one confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean we’re both here now. Enjoying each other’s company. Why bother thinking about versions of ourselves in other universes when we’ve got each other in this one?”

Sebastian gives you the most genuine, softest smile at that. “I love you, I don’t tell you that enough.”

You scrunch your face, “Ew. Sounds like a love confession. Sorry but you’re too old for me.”

“You know what I mean. I love you but not in that way. That’s just gross,” Sebastian says, hitting your shoulder.

“Relax old man, I’m just teasing,” you giggle, trying to avoid his hit. “Love you too. Ew. Sorry, not great with verbal affection. Pretty sure that just made me throw up a bit, and that’s not even with the help of the food poisoning.”

Sebastian just shakes his head, “Okay c’mon now, Charles will be annoyed with how slow we’re walking.”

Later that night, the three of you watched a cheesy romcom while sharing a shit load of fries and chicken nuggets. As you carried on through the night you thought to yourself that despite the hardships of F1, the crashing, the disappointments, the injuries– it brought you a second family you never thought you’d have. And you wouldn’t trade it for any other universe.

Although, maybe a universe where you didn’t get food poisoning.

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