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lecsainz · 7 months

Note

hiii could i please request an paul aron x reader where he is not so happy with a race Result and the reader cheers him up.

BAD RACE

parings: paul aron x girlfriend!reader

authors note: I loved writing this one! PS: I tried to look at thousands of pictures of him but couldn't come to the conclusion if his eye is blue or brown, so I went with blue 🤷‍♀️

✩. . . masterlist !

Paul Aron had just crossed the finish line of yet another race, and the result was far from what he had hoped for. His frustration was palpable, and he couldn't shake off the disappointment that clouded his features.

Y/N, his ever-supportive partner, knew all too well how he reacted when races didn't go his way. Paul could be moody and grumpy, dwelling on his performance for days on end. But she also knew just how to cheer him up.

As Paul and his teammate Dino made their way back to the Prema garage, Y/N was waiting for him. She was surrounded by a few mechanics who offered her friendly smiles, aware of her role in boosting Paul's spirits after a tough race.

Paul walked alongside Dino, his head hanging low, lost in thought. Y/N watched them approach, her heart aching for her boyfriend's obvious disappointment.

"Hey, champ," she greeted him with a warm smile as he finally reached her.

Paul managed a weak smile in return, but the disappointment still lingered in his eyes. "Hey," he replied, his voice heavy with the weight of his performance.

Y/N didn't waste any time. She stepped closer to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him into a tight embrace. "I know it wasn't the race you wanted, but you'll bounce back," she reassured him, her voice filled with unwavering confidence in him.

He sighed and buried his face in her hair, inhaling her comforting scent. "I just messed up, Y/N. I had a shot, and I blew it."

Y/N leaned back slightly, cupping his face in her hands so that their eyes met. "You're not defined by one race, Paul. Remember all the victories you've had. This is just a bump in the road. You'll come back stronger."

Paul's blue eyes searched hers for a moment, and he found solace in her unwavering support. He leaned in and kissed her, a silent thank you for always being there for him. Paul's lips met Y/N's in a heartfelt kiss, their connection speaking volumes even without words. It was a kiss filled with gratitude, love, and a promise that they'd tackle whatever challenges came their way together.

Breaking the kiss, Y/N flashed him a mischievous smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "You know, Paul, I've been thinking."

He raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "About what?"

She shrugged playfully, her fingers tracing a pattern on his chest. "Well, I hear that some racers have lucky charms or rituals they do before a race to ensure good luck."

Paul's lips curled into a grin as he caught on to her idea. "Are you suggesting I need a lucky charm, Y/N?"

She leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "I'm suggesting I could be your lucky charm."

His heart raced at her words, her suggestion making him forget about the disappointment of the race. "I like the sound of that," he admitted, his voice husky with desire.

Y/N chuckled softly, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Great. Now, we just need to figure out what kind of good luck charm activities we should engage in."

Paul's hands found their way to her waist, pulling her even closer. "I think I have a few ideas."

Their playful banter was interrupted by the cheerful voice of one of the mechanics. "Hey, Paul! Don't forget, we have a team dinner tonight."

Paul sighed dramatically, his forehead resting against Y/N's. "Team dinners after a tough race are the worst."

Y/N laughed and pecked his lips. "Come on, champ. It'll be fun. And maybe they can give you some tips on how to make me your official lucky charm."

Paul grinned, his mood significantly brighter. "You're right, as always. Let's go at a dinner with the team."

#f1 fic #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 fics #paul aron #paul aron x reader #paul aron imagine #paul aron x you #paul aron x y/n #paul aron fic #paul aron one shot #f3 one shot #f3 fanfic #formula 3 imagine #formula 3 x reader #prema racing x reader #prema racing #f1 x y/n

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zcorners120 · 8 months

Note

Jealous bearman?

sure!

ollie bearman x fem!reader MASTERLIST

warnings; language

✰ a lot of silence

✰ menacing glares at the person he's jealous of

✰ pulling you aside and giving you a speech on how he feels

✰ if the person he's jealous of is a driver, he'll purposefully try to beat/embarrass them to show he's better

✰ always making it known he's not mad at you

✰ post photos of the two of you on his instagram story being really close and intimate

✰ having an arm around you in front of paparazzi and reporters

✰ "we're together, and everyone has to know it."

✰ even though he's usually such a happy and pure guy, jealousy causes him to go silent and threatening.

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sainz-leclerc · 2 years

Note

morning after you find arthur left hickeys on your neck so you start to freak out while he looks super proud with a grin on his face. saying "now they know your mine."

Walking up , the first thing you noticed was that the usual pair of arms around you were wrapped around you tighter than usual .

Smiling , events from last night replayed in your mind. You and Arthur were at a F3 party and a driver from Trident was a bit too friendly with you for his liking .

So naturally , he had to make sure everyone knew you were his

'' Oh Arthur '' you moaned as his cock once again hit that one spot inside you. Normally , the monegasque will be showering you with praise for being such a good girl for him.

Not tonight. Tonight he was too busy in marking up your neck , collarbones and chest. His teeth would be constantly kissing , sucking , nibbling and biting your soft skin.

'' Who do you belong to sweetheart ?'' the prema driver asked . Instead of being responded to with words , he only received a loud moan.

That however was not enough for Arthur. He thrusted harder than before , his teeth once again biting little love bites on your breasts. ''Answer me love , who does this pussy belong to ?''

'' You Arthur , only you '' you cried out , your orgasm nearing.

Satisfied , the monegasque kept fucking you until the only thing you remembered was his name.

Trying to get out of bed , the boy's grip only tightened , keeping you flushed against him.

Giggling , you softly hit his chest. " Arthur . Arthur ! I have to go to the bathroom darling. "

Grumbling , Arthur let you go. Getting out of bed , you make your way into the bathroom only to let out a loud squeal.

In an instant your boyfriend joined you. Only in his boxers , the driver started looking around the room frantically '' What ? What is it mon amour ? Are you alright ?''

Instead of an answer , he was met with smack against the chest. ''Ouch , what was that for ?''

'' Look what you did '' you whined and pointed toward your neck and the part that showed through the cotton t-shirt you were wearing.

The boy only chuckled and let out under his breath '' wait until you see the ones on your breasts '' he smirked.

Your widened before looking under your shirt only to see your boobs covered in red and purple bruises.

Before you could freak out again , Arthur wrapped his arms around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder. ''Relax cherie , just had to show those asshole from trident who you belong to'' he threw you another cheeky smile through the mirror which triggered your own freaked out smile.

'' I know bebe , it will just take me so long to cover them''

At that Arthur's eyebrows rose up '' Cover them ? Oh no no sweetheart. I want to make sure everyone sees this masterpiece''

''In fact , why don't you come give me some matching one no ?'' The boy said dragging you back towards the bed

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violetszone · 1 year

Text

Quality time

Arthur Leclerc x fem!reader

From this request

Summary: just a nice valentine with Arthur

Prompts: “You told me you wanted cliche, so I got you a teddy bear.” / “This reminded me of you.”

WARNINGS: Quick finish,not edited writing

Valentine's day with Arthur was always sweet but you never asked him to get big gifts you cared about inner things and being a hopeless romantic unfortunately meant you loved clichés.

When you woke up in the morning Arthur was hugging you, you poked his arm and made him wake up he kissed your head and hugged a little tighter "Good morning my love happy valentines day"you smiled and kissed his cheek Arthur was going for a morning jog as usual, and you were going to prepare breakfast for the two of you at the time.

You went to the kitchen and started to prepare your breakfast, you didn't realize how the time passed, Arthur had come home and you were cooking the last pancakes when he announced that he was going to take a shower.

While you were putting the plates on the table, Arthur entered the room.He was hiding something behind him. You sat across from each other. He handed you what he was hiding behind it was a little teddy bear it also had a small bouquet of flowers in its hand.

“You told me you wanted cliche, so I got you a teddy bear.” you laughed and hugged the teddy bear "Also this reminds me of you, its looks like you" you put the teddy bear aside and hugged Arthur."Thank you Arthur this is so sweet, it could be the best valentine gift"

You had your breakfast together and enjoyed the day. For you, Valentine's Day was more like trying to spend the best quality time you can spend together.

#violetszone #f1 imagine #f1 blurb #f1 smut #f1 fluff #f2 fanfic #f2 imagine #f2 x reader #f2 #arthur leclerc one shot #arthur leclerc fluff #arthur leclerc smut #arthur leclerc angst #arthur leclerc imagine #arthur leclerc #f3 imagine #f3 x reader #violetszonerequest

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vickwrites · 1 year

Note

dad!arthur if you have time?

have a great day :)

French baby - Arthur Leclerc

Even though it wasn't planned, Arthur was really excited to meet his baby boy. He was the light of Arthur's life, and he was definitely a daddy's boy. Sometimes you even got slightly jealous of the beautiful relationship the two had but seeing the two identical boys made your heart swell.

As soon as his son was old enough to ride a kart the whole family would go take him, Uncle Charles, Uncle Enzo, even Pierre. Arthur would even shed a tear or two seeing his little boy enjoying himself in a kart. He would be the most spoiled kid in Monaco. Arthur would spoil his son with whatever he wanted, with your approval of course.

Eventually came taking him to his father and uncle's races. With them came the surprise of your son supporting redbull much to Arthur and Charles dismay. Wanting to spend his time in the redbull garage with you since Arthur didn't want to be seen there but whatever made his son happy, also made Arthur happy.

#f1 one shot #f1 x you #f1 smut #f1 x reader #formula 1 smut #f1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #arthur leclerc imagine #arthur leclerc one shot #arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc #f2 x reader #f3 x reader

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scuderiamh · 1 year

Text

WINDOWSILL || a. leclerc x reader

pairing: arthur leclerc x reader request: yes / no summary: the best friend you've been in love with since second grade shows up at your door at 3AM with pizza. word count: 1.4k warnings: talk of heartbreak and healing

a heartbreak past, a long road healing to come.

it wasn't linear. you knew that much. healing was a long, uphill battle. healing was adjusting to a drastic change and hardly knowing how. healing was leaning on the friends that have stuck by you. healing was difficult but most of all inconsistent.

some days were fine. you could work and go out and take care of yourself and your home. you'd think then you'd gotten over it, until it came down to the other days. where you could hardly will yourself to get up. where you didn't want to talk to anyone or do anything. where all you felt you had the mental energy to do was lie down and cry.

today was the latter of the two.

the breakup you’d had with your boyfriend was nearly a month ago now, but you've yet to escape the stuttering back and forth between being okay with it and not. it felt like someone was in control of a switch – one you couldn’t reach quite high enough to flip. and you were tired. every bad day felt like a thousand and you just wanted it all to stop.

now, as the sun had long since lain to rest, you sat on your windowsill watching the outside world. it was quiet, and dark. the company of the moon was one you’d always appreciated. it always made you feel comforted. but not even the moon was visible tonight and your heart felt like someone had left it out to dry and by now it has long since shriveled.

you could call a friend, but the one person in the world you wanted to talk to could’ve been asleep. and you didn't want to risk waking him up, given his hectic schedule.

another unspoken thing keeping you from reaching out was your not wanting to be a burden. as if you ever were, to him, but those were the worries you were put down by at times like these.

chin on one knee, arms hugged around a leg. you sighed heavily as you listened to the cadence of grasshoppers and distant waves, watching the occasional lone car drive past. only one thing broke this peaceful, lonely rhythm – a phone chime. a singular text.

you were tempted to ignore it. who could possibly need a reply from you this late at night? you didn’t want to talk unless it was to your best friend. but given the thought that it could be an emergency, you wouldn’t be able to wallow placidly for much longer if you hadn’t checked.

arthur: “open door, please”

you gave yourself no more than about two seconds to be confused before getting up and making your way to your front door, absolutely no hesitation in opening it. the one person you wanted to talk to.

“arthur, why are you-?”

“can i come in, please?”

there he was. standing at your doorstep despite the time of night. hair disheveled, looking like he might’ve just done some running. a large pizza box in hands, phone lying on the pizza box. looking simultaneously insane and so, so normal.

“right. okay. come in.”

you stepped aside, letting him come inside before you shut the door behind him. for a brief moment you told yourself to put up the persona and convince him you were alright, but you reminded yourself that this was arthur. you could take that mask off around him.

“what have you been doing?” he beat you to asking the questions. it’s fine, you weren’t about to interrupt.

you shifted your weight from one foot to another, considering your answer for a moment. if it were anyone else, you might've lied. “just… sitting. thinking, i guess.”

his only question was, “where?”

a frown tugged down at your lips. “um… my bedroom windowsill?”

“okay.” he answered with a small smile, one that held almost a hint of mischief. before you questioned his antics, he set down his phone on your counter, and with the pizza box, he went straight to your room. you followed without a word.

and suddenly the previously lonely windowsill containing a sad girl stuck in her mind now held a lovestruck boy and a box of pizza, with the girl of his dreams fast approaching. he’d made himself comfortable, so you followed suit. it was wordless, and a bit of a squeeze considering the size of the window, but just right. it always seemed to be with him.

him. the only man in the world who could wash away your worries, your sadness, the one who’d been there to wipe away many tears. the one who was always there. the one who showed up without being asked. the one you trusted with your life.

arthur. your arthur.

the starlight seemed to turn from gray and dull to a softer light – a change of situation seemed to change your perception of the setting right around. the sound around you turned from melancholic to hopeful. the breeze became comfortable, not taunting.

“what were you thinking about?” he asked you, retrieving a slice for you and one for himself.

you shook your head, taking a bite. “not important anymore.”

he just nodded in acknowledgement. chances are, he knew exactly what you were thinking about. but he didn’t press. he didn’t ask you out of nosiness or lack of knowledge in the first place, he simply wanted to open the door of talking about it, in the case that you wanted to. he figured you'd think you'd be burdening him if you brought it up yourself — he knew you and how your mind tended to work. as soon as you gave the indication of not wanting to pursue the topic he dropped it.

you two continued to eat in mostly silence. mentioning things about your days here and there, as if you guys didn’t talk about every detail of your days earlier. you talked just to hear eachothers voices. what the other had to say, despite hearing it before. just to talk to one another, just to soak in eachothers presence, fully. because you wanted to. you both did.

“can i ask you a question?”

arthur didn't wait a second to answer. “always. what is it?”

“why’d you come?”

he shrugged and glanced at you. “i don’t know. i was awake, i knew you would be awake, probably… and sometimes you just need nights like this, you know?”

you did know. you knew it more than ever. did he know how much you needed this? something told you he did.

pizza box empty, it was tossed into your room. you made a mental note to pick it up later. with a soft sigh, you rested your head on his shoulder. he wrapped an arm around you in response.

the touch was natural. nothing about it felt forced or out of place. it came with something you both knew – if the other asked, the touch would go further. the emotional connection was there, it always has been, but you never got physical like that with him. never spoke of that connection. let it go unaddressed. maybe out of fear of shattering your friendships, maybe it was something else. you never knew and you never asked.

but you both knew it could go there.

he could kiss you right now, sitting right by him. and you’d kiss right back, he likely knew that. but you didn't go there, neither of you did. you only enjoyed the warmth and security coming from him and he enjoyed providing that.

it was always there – the lingering love. a love never fully tapped into. a love that could be something, could go somewhere. a love almost too scary to be pursued. a beautiful type of love that broke your heart just a little, if you dared to let yourself think about.

you tried not to think about it. not usually. it's only times like now you almost, just barely, allowed yourself to indulge in those thoughts.

he wasn't just a friend and he never was. he was your best friend and your other half. has been as long as you remember. no one else was there for every celebration, every heartbreak, every achievement in the way that he was. nobody else connected with you like he did. and you were starting to believe no one ever would. you didn't want anyone to.

“hey, arthur?”

“hm?” he hummed back, rubbing little invisible patterns onto your shoulder.

“thank you for coming.”

a bit of a bewitching anguish, wasn't it? a mutual understanding of feelings unmentioned. all here on a healing windowsill.

“always.”

tag list: @holy-macncheese-balls @buendiabebeta @dan3avacado ... ask to be added or removed

#arthur leclerc #arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc one shot #arthur leclerc x y/n #arthur leclerc fanfic #f1 #f3 #f2 #f3 x reader #f2 x reader #formula one fanfic #formula 1 fanfic

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thebearchives · 2 years

Note

E3 with arthur leclerc please !!

pairing: arthur leclerc x reader

prompt: your lover leans in for a kiss, but they just kiss you tenderly and pull back to see your reaction, only then to crash their lips against yours passionately

arthur couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. you couldn’t understand why.

it was late. last time you had checked the time, it was around 8:30 pm, but that was hours ago, and even arthur was tired now.

“staring holes into my head won’t make me finish any faster,” your eyes flickered up from your textbook, “you can go to bed if you’re tired, turo.”

arthur gave you a gentle smile, head resting on top of his crossed arms, “i’m okay, belle. ‘m not tired, promise. you can take your time.”

“then why are you staring?” you uncapped your highlighter, “if not to get me to hurry up.”

“because you’re beautiful.”

your movements faltered, the highlighter bleeding through the pages of your notebook. your eyes met his, so full of love and admiration. you felt yourself blush under his gaze, quickly averting your eyes back to your papers.

you hissed, picking up the highlighter and noticing the obvious hole it had formed in the paper. you frowned, “turo, you distracted me.”

“ah,” he leaned forward, a sheepish smile on his lips that you couldn’t see, “‘m sorry, amour.”

you shook your head dismissively, “‘s okay, it was a fresh page. i can start over.”

he didn’t bother you for the next few minutes, eyes still watching your every move. you will yourself not to look at him, cheeks still hot from when you had caught his gaze. you didn't get it.

arthur leclerc was like an enigma, so loving that you couldn’t understand him. you were just another person in this world full of people, but for some reason, arthur always looked at you like you painted the sky blue every morning and held the stars up every night.

to him, you were everything. and at this moment in time, with your hair in a mess, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, and hands stained with pens and highlighters, to him, you were the only person in the world. and the prettiest, too.

he watched as your head flicked back up, the lack of sleep catching up. after the third time, he decided to break the silence.

“y/n?” his voice was quiet, and so, so soft as he watched you blink at him blearily, “let’s go to bed, d’accord?” okay?

your own response was a mumbled whine, “but ‘m not done studying.”

arthur leaned over the table, “and you won’t be if you fall asleep on the table, ma belle. let’s go to bed.”

he watched you turn to your notes with a frown, eyes sweeping the paper from top to bottom as if to see proof of his claim. and it was there, with your notes near the bottom of the page barely legible in comparison to the top.

you met his eyes again, a pout on your lips. arthur let out a short chuckle, you were about to bargain.

before you could open your mouth, arthur leaned forward and placed a soft kiss against your lips. so tender, you felt your resolve melting before it could even cement.

he pulled back, a quiet giggle escaping at your blissful expression and half-lidded eyes. you blinked, staring back at him with a newly ignited passion in your eyes. you moved closer slightly, and arthur closed the distance again.

his lips were so soft, and so, so enticing, as if you were kissing the clouds goodnight. you felt yourself melt as he moved his hand to cup your cheeks. his hands were warm, like a blanket. it was like arthur was doing everything he could in his power to make you admit that you were tired. to admit that you wanted to go to sleep in his arms.

you were the one to pull away first this time, a happy sigh escaping your mouth. the open textbooks and assortment of writing supplies were a distant memory, your head clouded with arthur and arthur only.

“okay,” you smiled, eyes unwavering from arthur’s, “let’s go to bed.”

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itsgxsly · 2 years

Text

THE BEST SURPRISE

Summary: you surprise ollie going to one of his races

Pairing: ollie bearman x reader

Warning: none

Word Count: 433

You knew Ollie was disappointed when you spoke to him on the phone to tell him that you weren't going to be able to go to his race because of your classes. You wanted as much as he did to go see his race from the prema garage and cheer him on, but this time it didn't seem to be possible.

Or at least that's what you led Ollie to believe.

The reality was not very far from what you had told him, you had classes to attend and homework, but by sacrificing some nights and weekends you were able to get your parents to let you attend your boyfriend's race. So there you were, arriving at the race track, waiting for Arthur to pick you up so you could surprise Ollie.

After waiting a few minutes, you saw the younger Leclerc come towards you, dressed in his racing suit.

“hey y/n” he told you with a smile.

“hey Arthur, I'm glad to see you again” you smiled at him grateful that he helped you with Ollie's surprise.

“I'm glad to see you here too. Ollie keeps complaining that you couldn't come to see him. It's horrible, he looks like a kicked puppy” Arthur said as you approached to the garage where you would see your boyfriend.

What Arthur said brought a wider smile to your face, excited to finally see your boy, since you missed him for not being able to see him as often as you both wanted. You arrived at Prema's garage and immediately saw your boyfriend, who had his back to you while checking something with his engineer. Unable to hold back the urge to see him any longer, you approached as quietly as possible and touched his shoulder. Ollie turned, and smiled in disbelief when he saw you right in front of his eyes. You couldn't even speak before Ollie lunged forward and wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you tight not wanting to let go. You wrapped your arms around his neck, one of your hands reaching the back of his neck stroking his hair while your eyes watered a little with emotion.

"You've come" Ollie spoke at last, loosening the hug a little to look at your face.

"I couldn't miss a race of my favorite driver," you replied, caressing his cheek with your thumb.

Ollie just smiled and leaned closer to give you a sweet and innocent kiss on the lips. You split up when Ollie's engineer told him he had to get ready for the race. Ollie looked at you, not wanting to leave you yet.

“Go out there and win that race baby. Be here cheering you on” I gave him a peck before he ran off with a smile on his face.

It had definitely been the best surprise.

#imagine #ollie bearman #ollie bearman x reader #reader #fia f3 #formula 3 #ollie #f1 blurb #one shot #ollie bearman x you #ollie bearman x y/n #prema racing #formula 1 #f1 weekend #f1 2022

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pxperplxnets · 2 years

Note

Could you do something for Ollie X Jules’s daughter if that’s ok with you

summary: y/n bianchi is ollie bearman's girlfriend, and she goes to watch her first race after her brother's incident.

pairing: oliver bearman x reader

word count: 720

warnings: mentions of death, panic attacks

lowercase intended!

so, i did jules' sister since it fit better with their age.

------------------------------------------

y/n bianchi was not new to pain.

she lost her brother at a young age, 10, to be exact.

people used to tell her that at least she was young when it happened, and assumed that her young brain hadn't processed the fact that jules was dead until she was older.

that was utter and complete bullshit. even as a young child, her brother's death stuck to her like nothing else. the pain of losing him struck her little ten year old heart like a wrecking ball, and she was never the same happy kid she was before.

the years passed and she grew, but the pain was still there, present in every single step and every single decision she made.

it had been 7 years since his passing, and she had not ever attended a race after that day. but it was the last race of the season for arthur -who she also considered an older brother- and ollie -her boyfriend- and it would soon be the last one of the season for charles as well, and she promised them she would go.

the boys had done an incredible job on keeping her distracted until the race, but now that they had to get ready, her anxiety really started to kick in. memories of her brother’s car going under that truck flooded her mind as tears flooded her eyes. she rapidly stood up to try to get somewhere private, not wanting other people to see her in that state.

her chest hurt and every little sound sounded way too loud. she tripped on her way to the bathroom, but she couldn't make the effort to stand up. she curled herself on the floor, not being able to think of anything else but her brother, arthur, charles, and ollie.

she couldn't bare to lose any of them. charles and arthur were her brothers, the closest thing she had to jules, and ollie was just ollie, guy she met at aurthur’s party and stuck with her all night. the guy that asked her out three months after they met because he was too shy to do it before. her boyfriend.

her body jolted as she felt a hand on her shoulder. she could see a silhouette in front of her, but couldn't quite place who they were.

“y/n, breathe, it's okay” she heard an accented voice, and she tried her best to listen to what they were saying “here, try to breathe with me” she listened, following his instructions until her breathing had calmed down a bit. she realised it was ollie who stood in front of her. “can i hug you?” he asked, and she just engulfed him in a hug.

they stayed like that for what felt like forever, but couldn't have been that long. he whispered sweet nothings in her ear and stayed with her until she calmed down.

“i'm sorry you had to go through that. i can't tell you everything will be okay, and i can't make jules come back, but i can promise you that nothing is going to happen to me, or to arthur and charles. jules is protecting us and you, we’re safe” his words struck her.

she talked to the stars every night, asking jules to protect her boys, and if there was one thing jules never did, it was letting her down.

she nodded and broke the hug, standing up and pulling ollie along with her.

arthur looked worried as he stood in the prema garage, it was almost time for them to start the race. he hugged her as soon as he saw her.

she said her needed ‘good luck’s and i love you’s’ to the monegasque before going back to her boyfriend. he already had his helmet on, so she knocked on it to gain his attention.

“can you hear me?” she asked, and went on as he nodded “i love you with everything in me. i know you'll come back to me because my brother is looking after you, so go and win because you deserve it more than anyone.” she kissed the helmet and let him go to his car.

the race started and she felt peaceful. she could almost feel her brother hug her from the side, and she knew he was with her.

-------------------------------

authors note

hope you like it<3

#ollie bearman one shots #prema racing #prema #premaoneshots #pxperplxnets #f3 #ollie bearman #oliver bearman #ollie bearman x reader #f3oneshots

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sheluvricciardo · 2 years

Text

hey guys, i’m trying to figure out what to write next and it would really help to get some submissions from you guys!! whether it be characters or prompts or both, i could use some help figuring out what to write next.

the following are characters i write for:

FATE THE WINX SAGA

riven

sky

FORMULA ONE

charles leclerc

carlos sainz

george russell

lewis hamilton

daniel ricciardo

lando norris

esteban ocon

pierre gasly

sebastian vettel

mick schumacher

nicholas latifi (not my proudest moment)

FORMULA FEEDER SERIES (2 & 3)

felipe drugovich

liam lawson

dennis hauger

reece ushijima

arthur leclerc

franco colapinto

i will eventually add onto this list of fandoms/characters but for now this is the list that i am willing to do!! please don’t be shy if you have a request

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zcorners120 · 2 years

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the bracelet - 1

arthur leclerc x verstappen!reader

synopsis; arthur's infamous bracelet goes missing when it's suddenly found on his sworn enemy.

warnings; invasion of privacy, sexual harassment, implied crash in the race, Romain Grosjean crash!Reader, swearing

MASTER LIST 2.7k word count PART TWO PART THREE

The bracelet, a small silver chain that Arthur had bought for himself after his first major victory in F3. It was a trademark staple of his brand, fans copying him with lookalikes and duplicates of it.

It was adored especially by his female fans, praising him for wearing jewellery, and looking amazing whilst wearing it. It had become his good luck charm, and refused to take it off when he crashed one time when not wearing it.

"Let's see if the bracelet does you any good when I crush you in this race Leclerc." The younger Verstappen calls out, cockiness smearing in her voice.

"Sure Verstappen, we'll see if your brother's shitty skills will get you anywhere." He laughs out, knowing that Max had trained her for this race.

She walked away, going to put her on suit on. Y/N Verstappen was the latest addition in F3, and was rising rapidly. Her insane skills had immediately bumped her to F3, and was become a media favourite.

She was not only praised for being Max Verstappen's little sister who had followed in his footsteps, but for her own individual talent behind the wheel, as well as her striking beauty which had landed her several campaigns with many big beauty and modelling brands.

Her mutual hatred for Arthur Leclerc was the one thing that remained a mystery to her, as when she first entered the paddock for her first race she had gone up to him, ready to open her heart about how much of an inspiration he is, until this happened..

'Hey, Arthur isn't it? I just wanted to tell you that I really-' You had begun, before he interrupted.

'Big talk from you, considering that I've been told you want to recreate the Charles and Max competition. You talk a lot of shit coming from someone who's only just joined.' He spat, his ego clearly having a joy-ride.

'I didn't say anything like th-' You tried to justify, his eyes narrowing onto you before interrupting, once again.

'You may have become the media's sweetheart, but I can see through that.' He said sternly, not a waver in his voice.

'Asshole.' You shouted out, walking away back to your garage, feeling the rage simmer as you started a self acclaimed war between yourself and Arthur Leclerc.

You still think about that moment sometimes today, wondering if you had just cut him off and got the facts straight, maybe you would've been an unstoppable duo or more?

You couldn't deny the fact that he was insanely handsome, but you couldn't let your thought of lust and a small crush take over the fact that he only thinks you got into racing because of your looks and sweet personality.

You had won multiple times, but not against Arthur specifically. This race mattered, and mattered a lot. You tugged your racing suit on and went into the media pen to do some interviews and promotional videos before the race.

Entering the hustle and bustle of the pen you couldn't spot Arthur anywhere, as you walked up the reporter who was eyeing you up and down as soon as you walked in.

"So, Miss Verstappen, how do you think your latest Victoria's Secret fashion show went?" He drawled, smirking as he asked his question.

"Uhm, excuse me?" You questioned, completely taken aback by his question.

You were a Victoria's Secret Angel, and those shows are notorious for their display of models in lingerie, and had no correlation to your important upcoming race.

"You were wearing a stunning red set, the colour of your rival team, Prema, do you think your biggest enemy Arthur Leclerc has anything to say about that?" He weakly linked the question back to the race, but failed to hide his pathetic boner.

You were at a loss for words, finally seeing what the media thought of you, trying to think of an answer quickly as this was being filmed live.

"Quite frankly I don't think he has anything to say. We're rivals, we don't speak. I find that your question is disrespectful, and has no link to the race." You talked back, the anger seething from your teeth.

"Many of your fanboys are jealous of the tension you both have, there must be something going on behind the scenes? Just like the fanboys would love to see the backstage of when your getting ready." He laughed out, looking around at the cameramen and other reporters, trying to justify his sick questions.

You drew your eyebrows together, as your face twisted into an incredibly appalled face. You were close to crying, not being able to find an escape from the pen as the reporter started getting closer to you.

You felt an arm swiftly wrap around your neck, with their hand resting on your shoulder.

"You see here, me and Miss Verstappen have nothing but hate. As much as I love watching her on the catwalk where I can't hear her voice, you won't be getting that privilege for much longer. I'll meet you in 10 minutes outside buddy." Arthur's deep voice said cautiously patting him on the shoulder with his spare hand, pulling you away.

He pulled you in front of him, resting each hand on both of your shoulders, as he pushed you through the crowd and out to the empty corridor where everyone's room is.

"Are you okay?" He hesitantly asks, still keeping a firm hand on your shoulder.

"Not really. I can't help but think if this is really how my fans see me, and everyone publicly." You confess, feeling vulnerable in this state but feeling as though you can't confide in anyone else.

"Trust me, it's just him and his other couple of weird friends. Your fans love you for your personality and your insane racing abilities. Maybe your looks factor into that but that's not the reason why they watch you race." He spoke softly, as though he really meant it.

"You watch my shows?" You question, remembering what he said earlier, prying to get more answers.

"No." He answered way too fast, then continuing; "Well yeah. I mean, who doesn't? You're amazing up there. I just wish I could've pulled you away from that guy earlier, I heard some of the conversation and just had to take you away."

"You're being nice. I hope this isn't to psych me out before the race." You laugh slightly, blushing from what he previously said.

"Even though we have a bad past, I will defend you in every way imaginable Cherie." His accent shone through, as you both made eye contact.

"Why do you hate me so much?" You queried, wondering how he could be giving you cute nicknames when hours ago you were wishing bad luck upon each other.

As you wait for his response you look down on his lucky bracelet, thinking of what your good luck charm would be.

"We'll talk after the race, I have some business to take care of you. Good luck, and stay out of the media pen." His demeanour changed to a more serious one, looking down at his watch.

He walked away swiftly back towards the pen as you could see him pulling aside the creep from before. You decided to go to your room for the time being and calm yourself down for the race.

"Y/N, it's time, come to the garage." You heard your manager say as he knocks on the door.

You take a deep breath and walk out to the garage, getting into your car. You felt as though there were a billion eyes on you, tracking and analysing every movement.

The race started, and the usual rush of adrenaline came flooding back, like a broken dam. You had started P2, getting around the usual curves of the track.

After 17 laps and some good overtakes, you were in P1 and you could feel the sweat slowly forming on your head. All was well till you heard someone speak to you on the radio.

'Verstappen, be careful, you have Stanek from Trident coming up and ready to overtake at a much higher speed.'

You decided to speed up, but he pushed and pushed till you were both head to head, and approaching a turn. You took the risk, speeding up as the G-force was pushing you further and further back. You cut in front of him just in time for him to also speed up, rear ending you slightly.

The sudden small push had distracted you, completely disregarding that you needed to brake for the turn. Your thinking brain had shot you back into reality, as you tried to turn as hard as you can for the turn, but it was too late as you began drifting off track.

The screech made you cringe, as you were drifting into the barricades at nearly 210 kilometres an hour, as you braced for impact. The car directly smashed into the barricade, turning into a ball of flames.

The impact flung you back as you could hear a high pitched ringing throughout your ears. You looked around, disorientated, hearing nothing but the ringing and seeing nothing but red around you.

'Everybody get into pit lane, now, now, now!' You heard someone say distantly.

'Y/N, respond, are you okay?' You could hear you manager calling out, but his voice echoing.

All of the other drivers had gotten out of their cars, watching the screens in the garage, waiting for any sign of you. Arthur sat with his head in his hands, leg anxiously bouncing.

You couldn't go, couldn't leave him when he hadn't been able to fully talk to you, and confess his feelings.

The heat was attacking you, but you gained conciousness of your legs, and you could move them. You could move them? Looking down, your head felt as though it weighed a thousand kilograms, but half of the car was gone. Dissapeared.

Your survival instinct kicked in as you pushed yourself off the seat, and through the flames where you could faintly see the barricade. A hand stuck out from the fire tornado that you had been consumed in, as you firmly take it and jump over.

"She's alive."

"She's alive!"

"Holy shit."

The phrases rang throughout all the garages as tears were wept, and hugs were given out of joy.

"Fuck yes, Y/N. She did it, the champ." Arthur yelled out, happier than ever to see that you were alive, and did it in such a badass way.

You were rushed into the ambulance that was deployed for you, immediately getting your helmet clipped off and vitals checked.

You took deep breathes, feeling as though you had teleported from the fire to the ambulance. The sirens wailed throughout the track as it raced to the hospital.

You could slowly see your vision going black, and darker till all you could see was nothing. You had passed out in the ambulance, raising the concerns even further as the nurses had informed your manager that it wasn't looking too good with you passing out.

Arthur had bolted up like a rocket, ignoring questions and going straight to his car. He sped his way to the hospital, picking up some flowers on the way.

You laid miserably in the hospital gown, finally waking up and sitting up. You felt exhausted, as though the energy had been drained out of you. You heard a subtle knock to be met with Arthur meekly holding a big bouquet of flowers.

He rushed in, worry draining his face.

"Mon Cherie, are you okay? What even happened? Well, I know what happened, but how did you spin out? You looked so cool coming out the fire, but are you hurt? I-" He rambled, taking both of your hands into his.

"Yes, I'm okay. Doctors said I came out of the fireball without a scratch." You smiled proudly, laughing at his incessant worry.

"Holy shit, you are invincible." He smiled at you, his worries boiling down.

"Mhm, for sure. I didn't brake in time for the turn, and the car developed a mind of it's own." You said quietly, looking at him.

"Well look, I'm going to give you something that'll make sure you'll never get into another crash like that again." He started, pulling his hands away from yours, taking his famous bracelet off.

Your eyes growing wide, "Arthur, absolutely not! It's your lucky ch-"

"You're not getting into another accident, not on my watch. If the bracelet is mine, it's a way of me protecting you." He said sternly, laying the cold metal on your wrist and adjusting it to your size.

"Thank you. Really." You smiled, as he grinned back.

"Your manager left your phone here for you, and he's on the phone to your family in the hallway right now." He informed, passing you the phone.

As it scans your face it unloaded hundreds upon thousands of notifications; missed phone calls, texts, media stories, social media notifications and more.

You scrolled through them, reading quickly until one story caught your attention.

'Famed Arthur Leclerc caught punching news reporter; GROUND BREAKING.'

You turned the phone to him so he can read it, as his smirk becomes into a full smile.

"I told him I'd meet him in 10 minutes." His smugness dripped from his tongue.

"You didn't have to do that you know. Thank you." You looked down, blushing slightly.

"I had to do it, he messed with you. But of course had to look good doing it." He dramatized, pushing the phone back towards you.

"So, can we talk about, you know. What we are?" You hushed, ruining the moment slightly but needing an answer.

"When I met you, the same reporter told me this bullshit how you wanted to create a rivalry with me, and how you bought your way in just so you could have a legacy like Max and Charles." He confessed, taking you aback, you having never heard this.

He continued; "So when I saw him pushing you about, I realised what happened. I defended the girl that should've been rightfully mine from the start, as it's no secret I have a massive crush on you besides from the misunderstanding hate."

"I had no idea, but in my defence, I tried to tell you from the start." You flexed, knowing he was in the wrong; "But wait what, you have a crush on me?"

"It's no secret, why're you shocked?" He said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"It most definitely was secret! How could I know you had a crush on me when you would call me an idiot at interview panels?" You laughed, reminiscing such stupid times.

"Okay, I'll give you that. But something that I should've said a while ago is, do you want to go on a date this Friday?" He squeaked out, nervous.

"Yeah, I'd love that." You smiled, blushing.

"Y/N, you're cleared to go home as you're all well, your family are flying out right now to come and visit you." Your manager came in, ruining your candid moment.

You nodded in agreement as he stepped outside to take another call.

"I'll go out first and I'll meet you back at your apartment. Now I can take care of you." Arthur playfully grinned, as he walked out to go to his car.

You changed back into some casual clothes that your manager left for you as you walked to his car, with him trying to block the swarm of paparazzi that you weren't expecting to be outside the hospital.

The bright flashes hurt your eyes until you safely got into the car and were making the drive back home.

"What the fuck?" You blurted aloud, looking at your phone to see articles about you and Arthur, and his missing bracelet being around your wrist.

Fans had immediately put two and two together, and were off the bat swarming your DM's and socials, making edits and fan pages.

Hearing the chime of text you look up from the article with a message from Arthur.

Arthur Leclerc

I think the fangirls and fanboys of ours have worked it out, no? ;)

You smile down, knowing that he was loving the theories and attention already.

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sainz-leclerc · 2 years

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Arthur taking care of your when you’re on your period

Waking up in the middle of the night to pee , you look down at your underwear and see a small stain of blood.

Cursing through your teeth you reach over for your tampons box only to realize you had one more.

Putting it in , you change your underwear and check your watch .

11:35 pm it read . It wasn’t to late and the corner store that sell tampons wouldn’t close until aroud 1:00am

Carefully, you looked through your wardrobe for a hoodie to keep you warm on the short trip.

However , your incognito mode was destroyed when you felt two arms wrapping around your waist.

“What are you doing love ?” Arthur asked in a sleepy voice.

Turning around in his arms , you looked up at your boyfriend “sorry , did I wake you ?”

The boy only shakes his head , hugging you even closer. Telling him you just need to run down to the store , you expect him to get back to bed.

He just got back from the airport a few hours ago , tired from a race weekend.

However , he tangled your hand with his and pulled you towards the front door “let’s go”

“Oh no Arthur , you don-“

But the boy just shushed you , putting on his shoes and grabbing the keys and his wallet.

After buying what you need , you two got back to the apartment.

Changing you tampon , you put on some black sweats and got back into bed.

Thinking Arthur would spoon you as usual , you turn on your side.

Instead , one of his big hands places you on your back , Arthur getting on top of you. He places his head right on you chest , his fingers rubbing slow circles onto your tummy.

“You once told me it helps with cramps , is that okay ?”

Your heart melted at the sweetness you call your boyfriend. Placing a kiss on his head you nod , both of you falling back into a peaceful slumber.

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violetszone · 1 year

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Body Shot

Arthur Leclerc x fem!reader

Summary: Your friend takes you to a private club party in Monaco. You agree to play a game with a group of people you just met your partner in the game is the boy who has been watching you since you came to the group.

WARNINGS: Bad English (a little google translate, not edited writing),alcohol,club,high people

The saying that Monaco would be fun at night was true, but you still couldn't get over the effects of what happened last night, you looked at yourself in the bathroom mirror, then your eyes went to the side of the blonde boy sleeping in the bed, you couldn't believe it.

*6 hours ago*

It's been 24 hours since you've been to Monaco but you're already starting to feel like you're from there, your friend decided to take you to a private club party and said it was a party where most celebrities would be, party and the word alcohol was enough to convince you though.

When you entered the club, everything was normal at first, you took a few shots with your friend and danced on the floor, then your friend said she wanted to introduce you to someone and took you to a little group. There were famous people you knew in this group, but especially one of them was staring at you, you knew him, but you couldn't see who he was because of the lights.

When you leaned over to your friend and asked who he is, she told you he is formula 2 driver Arthur Leclerc, my god, of course you knew him.You continued chatting in the group, finally it was decided to play a game called Body Shot, it would be fun so you decided to participate Arthur was still looking at you from time to time and he smiled when you decided to join the game now it would be even more fun

First dice rolled first players passed Arthur's turn has come he chose you as a partner they roll the dice it was telling him to drink liquor from your stomach he helped you to lie down on the empty table he put a piece of lime between your lips you were excited but you didn't show it, they placed the glass of liquor on your belly button and poured salt on your stomach

First he licked the salt from your stomach with his tongue, you were watching him, he never took his eyes off you, he approached your belly button and took the glass of liquor with his mouth and sewed them all at once,without wasting any time he approached your lips and took the lime from your lips threw it in his mouth and started to kiss you he helped you to stand up while kissing.

God that was so hot everyone around you was cheering and applauding while you were kissing, everyone could have been high but you and Arthur were sober enough to know what you're doing now, You were both out of breath when you stopped kissing Arthur helped you off the table grabbed you by the waist and dragged you out of the club.

The rest of the night was even better while you were thinking about this, you heard a noise behind you and you turned there Arthur stood on the bed and looked at you "Good morning beauté what are you doing there come back to bed" You smiled and walked over to him and sat across from him on the bed "Hi" he laughed "YN I know how naughty you're,don't be shy of what happened last night come on" you laughed and slapped him on the shoulder this is how you met Arthur Leclerc, the man of your dreams.

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adventuringblind · 4 months

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Make Me Yours

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Genre: chaotic smut (I'm a slut for this man)

Summary: Daniel mentions something to Oscar and he takes a shot in the dark.

Warnings: KNIFE PLAY, blood, intensive aftercare, Max and Daniel being big brothers, Oscar is a dork and we love him for it, enemies to lovers if you squint, soft dom Oscar, Reader is a mess for Oscar and he loves it.

Notes: This was an anonymous request! I hope you like it!! Please remember to communicate and take care of yourselves if you engage in a kink like this!! Reader is a Redbull rookie which I know is ridiculous but it's fiction.

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

She wouldn't say her sex life is vanilla. Definitely the opposite, actually. Most people would look at Oscar and assume he is the most boring human on the planet.

They are all wrong.

Most the drivers, including herself, teased him about how he knows two positions maximum. He'd gotten fed up with it and showed her exactly why everyone is wrong.

Turns out pent up tension from being rivals from F3 and F2 leads to these situations. The situation being mind-blowing sex with the one guy who you didn't want to admit feelings for.

Formula 1 is an unforgiving world. She didn't need feelings getting in the way. Until Oscar came along and ruined it all.

Until that night, at least. Now they are stuck together like glue. It drives Max and Daniel insane with how much he's around the Redbul garage.

She tried to use the 'best friends' excuse until Daniel caught them in her driver's room.

"It's always the rookies."

That being said, her problem isn't the sex, or Oscar, or her relationship at all. The problem is how to bring up something she would like to try.

Both of them like trying new things and have been very clear on boundaries and keep open communication about the subject. He's never judged her for anything she's brought up. So why can't she just ask him?

"Something on your mind?" Daniel appears from thin air, and she slams her phone down out of view. She prays he didn't see the pictures of the silver blades and thinks she a psycho.

"Nope," she squeaks. A terrible recovery on her end.

"Watching porn? Looking at Mr. Piartri's nudes? Come one, you can tell me!"

Max pokes his head out from around the corner. "Are we talking about sex?" Here she thought the secluded space would be far away enough for them to come bother her. Then again, Daniel could help her out. He's good at talking to people.

"Pretty sure you and Charles talked about it last night." She quips without looking at him.

She's blushing and embarrassed. Her brain is yelling at her to run as far away as possible before she does something stupid-

"Hey Daniel, you know about sex stuff right?" Wow, that doesn't sound awkward at all.

"Yes?" He quirks his eyebrow at her. "But if you're looking for a threesome I'm going to have to decline. For now, at least," he winks.

She chokes at the notion. She's going to explode at this rate. Time to bail out. "Never mind, it's not that, but it's dumb."

Max appears fully in her line of sight. "You can't leave us hanging now! Oscar not performing well anymore?" His expression suddenly goes dark. "Or if he hurt you, I won't hesitate to send him into the barriers."

"No! no, it's not him it's me. I don't know how to ask him about something."

Both the males soften. It eases the anxiety a tiny bit, but she'd still rather not be here.

"Hmm, can I ask what it is?"

"A kink," she whispers away from him.

Daniel hears it anyway. "Yours or his?"

"Mine."

Daniel, now seeing he's not going to get anywhere like this, tries a new approach. "Look, this is a no judgment zone, right? Max talks about Charles and their sex life any chance he gets. I am an open book. No laughing or cringing, okay?"

It still feels weird having this conversation. But Daniel isn't going to let it sit now. Curse her impulsive mouth. "Knives. I want him to use a knife on me."

~~~~~

Oscar is sitting in wait around the Redbull motorhome. His girlfriend had said she'd meet him out here and he hasn't seen her all day, so he came early.

Media days are usually difficult for her. The journalists manage to find some new sexist thing to point out every race weekend. It drives all the drivers insane. They can't just let it go and move on to something new.

"Hiya mate!" Daniel appears around the corner and Oscar manages (just barely) to not jump out of his skin. "You waiting for your girl?"

"Yeah, I'm early though. Do I need to go?"

"Nah, you're fine." Daniel throws him a grin. "I'm curious how you keep the marks on her hidden. Been wondering for a while now."

Oscar blinks. His brain is trying to process the last Statement. "You mean... like a hickey?"

"No! The scars." Daniel looks like he's just said the most obvious thing. Oscar is still trying to remain neutral in what is definitely an odd conversation.

Scars? What scars is he talking about? "I-"

"Don't tell me you don't see it! That girl totally has some kind of knife kink."

Knife kink?! Where is this coming from? He tries to think back to any hint of it on her end. It's not like he's opposed to trying new things and he wouldn't be shocked if she felt weird about bringing it up.

"I'd ask her about it mate." Daniel winks and disappears into the crowd of people.

Oscar tries not to think too hard on it. It's just a weird comment made by Daniel in passing.

At least, that's what it started as.

Oscar then finds himself doing research on it. A deep rabbit hole that now occupies far too much space in his brain.

The idea of her permanently some kind of mark he puts there drives him wild. Which is odd, because it hasn't before. A visible hickey every now and then does the trick. Satisfies him when they go out places.

After the first 'I don't see your boyfriend,' he started putting one on her collar bone. Not visible unless she deems it so amd fresh enough to ward off any suspicious characters.

Curse Daniel for giving him this stupid idea. Something more permanent than a hickey sounds appealing.

If it were up to him, he'd keep her in his pocket. It's funny, really, how she thought he didn't know about her feelings. Oscar had played the game for two years. Then he couldn't take it anymore and he snapped.

Yes, she's snarky and moody, and as picky as Lando, until you get past the hard exterior and see she's all soft and squishy. Most of the time, anyway.

He asks her about it after Silverstone. He's coming down off his high and drunk on the adrenaline paired with a shot of success. The confidence boost is really what he needs to put the idea out there. As outrageous as it seems, Daniel might have a point.

"I was thinking about something." He starts off with. She flops onto her bed. Not his since Lando manages to get into his room at the worst times.

"Something good I hope?"

"Depends." Oscar adjusts their position so he can cradle her. The way she snuggles into him like an affectionate cat makes him melt. "It's kinky."

"The best kind of thoughts to have!" She taps his nose with her index finger to accentuate each word.

Oscar steels himself for the possible outcomes. "What if we tried knives."

There is an unmatched look of pure shock on her face. Oscar is prepared to reassure that she doesn't have to, until he notices the glint.

"Yes! I mean - yeah, we should give it a try."

Huh, so Daniel was right. Oscar will have to thank him later for the tip. "We need to talk about it first. I'm thinking either talk now and do it or we save it for a later date."

"How about we talk now, then see?"

"Sounds lovely."

~~~~~

The more Oscar talks, the more she wants it. It's ridiculous what he does to her with merely his voice. Or maybe it's the constant regard for her wants, needs, and safety.

Yeah, it's true what they say: consent really is sexy.

"Love? Did you hear what I was saying?" His voice has they soft mellowness about it that calms the raging see of her emotions.

"No..."

"Stay with me, yeah? I'll put this off if you aren't coherent enough to truly consent to anything." Yep, sexy. No doubt about it.

"I'm here, promise! Just got distracting... thinking."

"About?"

She waits a beat to see if he's willing g to drop it. He makes no indication he'll be moving on, however, making her forced to answer. "Your voice..."

She is going to combust at this rate. It's embarrassing how wrecked she is already. Oscar hasn't even touched her, but the sight of him with the glinting silver blade in his hands has her going feral. The crazy eyed, drooling kind that makes her seem like she should be locked up.

The fact Oscar spent over two hours in discussion and has research to back up every point her makes drivers her wild. She would happily spend the rest of her life with him even after a measly two years together.

He's ruined her. Oscar has made it so she will never be able to leave. So what if she's dramatic? Can you really blame her when she has Oscar Piastri standing in front of her looking ready to devour her?

Oscar takes his time. It's slow and gentle kisses, nimble fingers finding their way around the canvas he knows so well. "Fucking hell you're gorgeous."

She takes a mental note of the way she's in no clothes and he's got all his own. It's unfair and she tugs at his sleeve to signal she wants it off. Oscar complies and pulls the fabric off.

He goes back to licking his way around the inside of her mouth. Her hands relax around his body, taking comfort in the warmth and closeness of the skin-on-skin contact.

His fingers slip through her folds and like muscle memory locate her clit. It's pathetic the sounds he's getting her to make. Specifically, while holding the pocketknife, unopened, in his free hand.

"So pretty for me love. I would cut you up and put you in my pocket if I could. Carry your cute ass around with me like a good luck charm."

She's so far down the rabbit hole of her favorite headspace. Oscar's words are just swimming around her, until the sound of the black clicking open pulls her back into reality.

He presses the flat part of the blade against her arm. The cold of the metal sends a shiver running down her spine.

Oscar is looking deep in the eyes, mapping out every emotion and physical reaction she's having to the sensation. "Color?"

"Green, very green, the brightest of greens-" Oscar shuts her up with a kiss to her temple. It's gentle and meaningful. Enough to turn her right into a blushing mess.

Oscar checks in frequently every time the blade moves. The masochist is jumping for joy when the tip barely rests against her shoulder blade. "Are you ready? Want me to mark you? Shall I make you bleed for me?"

"Please," She whines.

"Keep your eyes on me yeah? You say red and I stop."

She signals that she understands and would like to continue. Oscar traces the line he wants to make.

She hisses when the knife presses downwards. Oscar panics, but he watches her eyes roll back and knows to continue. "Eyes on me, love. I want to see how pretty you look."

The cold stinging sensation makes her whimper in pain and moan in ecstasy all at the same time. He's still talking to her. Voice still calm and gentle. He's watching her intently, tracking every shift until he's done.

He keeps a hand on her to let her know he's still present as he tucks the, now closed knife, safely onto the bedside table. Despite looking so composed to everyone else, she notices the small thing about Oscar's shift in demeanor. Like how his pupils are staring at her, just the slightest bit tinged with the desire tor take her in the next ten seconds.

He resists and makes sure she is ready for that first. "Color?"

She slurs through an ungodly number of praises and words resembling 'green'. Oscar basks in it. He sits and caresses her skin as he watches the cut to make sure he really did go light enough.

Small beads of red appear at the surface, but not enough that he's concerned with first aid at the Moment. He breathes a sigh of relief.

"Osc? Are you still green?"

Oscar softens again. "Yeah, I'm green, just taking in the sight and - happy I didn't stab you." He's breathless and panting. His jeans straining and her hands aching to get her hands on him.

There is so much love and kindness leading up to him finally getting inside of her. The towel underneath her shoulder catches the run-off red. It falls away with every thrust of his hips and rock of her body.

They hit the edge to quickly. Falling over it in white hot pleasure and moans of joy.

"You're such a good girl for me. You did such a good job." Oscar whispers in her ear as he wipes the cut with disinfectant.

Oscar carries her blissed out body to the bathroom and lets her look at the wound before bandaging it. A perfect heart now rests on the peak of her shoulder. Not massive, but enough to be seen without looking to close.

"I love it."

"Yeah? You ready to bandage it?"

"Do we have to?"

She doesn't get her way. Oscar bandages the heart and gets them cleaned up. Then it's water and snacks in bed.

"I never thought you'd be into it."

"I wasn't until Daniel brought it up."

Her entire being stills. Maybe even goes pale and Oscar looks at her in confused worry.

"I might have asked him for advice on how to ask you... about this."

Once again, his face softens. "You know you never have to be afraid of asking me." A gentle smile appears on his face. "I do think we'll have to thank him for this later."

"You're just going to inflate his ego."

"Maybe it's worth it if he keeps giving me advice." Oscar winks at her and smirks.

Yeah, maybe Daniel's pestering isn't to bad.

~~~~~

Oscar stands waiting for the drivers parade the next race weekend with all the other drivers. He's waiting patiently for his favorite rookie to come and join him.

Instead, he is once again jumping out of his skin because Danile is grabbing his shoulders from out of nowhere. "Could you not, like, scare me? Please?"

"But this is more fun! Certainly not as much fun as you had, I'm sure. I saw the scar." Daniel wiggles his eyebrows.

Oscar is blushing, he can feel it in his face. The words he wants to say are not coming out like he intends. "yep, I - um... thanks."

"Let me know if you need any other advice." Daniel smirks and claps him on the shoulder, Leaving Oscar a mess.

This is why I get teased; he thinks.

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charles-leclerizz · 1 month

Text

EPISODE 01 : Start your engine

🏁 EPISODE AGE RATING : U/A 16+ [contaings swearing]

🏁 GENRE : Drama, Action, Sports, Romance

🏁 WORD COUNT : 10 K [ 10 , 366 WORDS ]

🏁 MUSIC SUMMARY : THE GREATEST BY SIA, PUMPT IT - BLACK EYED PEAS

🏁 CREDIT [S] : "BEHIND THE SCENES" BANNER, NETFLIX PLAY BAR BY ME [@charles-leclerizz], TEXT DIVIDERS BY @cafekitsune

🏁 TAGS : MUTUALS GET INSTANT TAGS [@vroomvroomcircuit, @disneyprincemuke, @verstappen-cult, @starkwlkr, @sailing-with-100-ships, @foreveralbon], OTHERS [@weekendlusting, @woozarts, @mellowarcadefun, @paintedbypoetry, @33-81, @kazuha-pista-badam, @inejghafawifesblog,d3kstar], IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED, PLEASE SEND IN AN ASK !

DIRECTORS CUT : first episode children, better get soome snacks and a drink, and i highly reccomend looking at the masterlist, aisha's profile and the porsche f1 team links, since they will explain everything. It is also recommendeed you first read the trailer, which is once again found on the masterlist below.

Masterlist · 🪷 Aisha · 🪷 Porsche F1 Team · 🪷

The opening credits of the series begin to play, revealing bold block letters reading,

“Bahrain 2025”

And in the background, the black fades to reveal an aerial view of the landmark circuit, a staple of the history that defines Formula One. As the shot zooms in, we see the morning mist rolling over the grey, freshly re-laid tarmac of the track leading up to the garages of each of the 10 teams, most of them shutdown and blocked away from prying eyes. Though, as the camera moves forward, the view widens and we can see at the very end of the line, the Porsche garage emitting a yellow glow.

The acrylic entrance leaks hues of gold whilst we finally approach the opening where we see Aisha jumping in place, a set of Bose x Porsche headphones sat on her ears, the white body and metallic automobile logo on the muffs bouncing with her movements.

She looks up from her focussed point beneath her, facing the camera that zooms in and captures the determined flare within the pools of her eyes.

The music, already beginning its powerful bass bursts, dims and briefly we can hear her laboured breathing as she stretches her hands above her and unzips the tight athleisure jacket that she had worn previously for warmth. The adidas logo crumples as she throws it away, revealing a cropped sports bra, white with grey stripes at the sides containing an embroidered Porsche logo on her left breast.

Soon enough, the music comes blaring back and the camera merely turns to follow her body as she begins to run away from the safety of her team enclosure. The scene ends with her exiting the shot, running down the initial straight of the first ever track she will race as a formula one driver.

“Aisha, what drives you in the world of Formula One?” A deep, cryptic voice off camera asks the driver sitting in shot. She smiles menacingly and leans back against her seat, her hands planted on her elegantly crossed legs as she adjusts the low cut, ‘V’ collar of her waistcoat, the colour matching the iconic Porsche guards’ red, of the rest of her risqué pantsuit.

“What drives me?” She chuckles, a low, raspy amusement that reverberates against the stormy backdrop behind her, “The competition, the domination, it runs in my blood;” She leans forward, as if the camera crew were privy to her obvious need to achieve. Aisha’s thin, golden bangles on each of her wrist’s jingle as she goes to adjust her volumous hair, “it’s not about the winning, it’s about obliterating the finish line.” She shrugs nonchalantly, despite the aggressive competitiveness that crackles in the air.

The voice chuckles at her threatening demeanour, yet continues, “Some media outlets commented on your driving style, since F2 and F3. They say it’s violent. What’s your response?”

Aisha bites her lip, thinking on the best way to diplomatically answer the question, despite her need to curse the people who doubted her.

Instead, she sighs with faux disappointment and her wide, mascara rimmed eyes move down to her rouge and gold nails whilst one of her fingers comes to slip beneath the platinum stud that sits comfortably on the left of her nose.

“Violent?” She asks, her voice barely above a murmur, “They could’ve been more descriptive.” She rolls her eyes once before inhaling, “Try...relentless. When I’m on track, behind the wheel, it’s war. And I aim to be the last one standing, if you can’t get with the program, move out the way. Cause I’m here to win.”

Her promise of no mercy is palpable as she shifts minutely in her seat, tapping her nails against one another whilst waiting for next question.

“What about the rest of the grid?” The interviewer prompts, treading carefully with his words, “Any words for them?”

Aisha scoffs under her breath, uncrossing her legs and flipping over the golden dainty necklace that rests within her exposed cleavage, the glinting logo of her team catches the light whilst she adjusts herself.

“Why words? They’ll know what I’m here for when I pass them. They’ll feel it, the fear, the resignation. I’m a whirlwind, all they can do is get swept up in it, this season, I am not racing against them, their teams or even their car; I’m racing against their hatred of losing to me.”

She smiles at the camera, eyes crinkling at the sides as her nose scrunches, a pure juxtaposition to the threat that peeled out of her mouth like scalding, hot water.

“Before we end. For your fans, what do you want them to know?”

“Hold on for your life, they’re about to witness history on the track. Cause I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to fuck shit up.” Aisha grins wickedly and laughing loudly at the flurry of reactions off camera from the crew that stood behind the myriad of wires.

Three different scenes are overlayed one another, the first being of Lewis Hamilton, giggling at someone off screen before focussing his large doe eyes onto the interviewer who also sat behind the large camera.

The second being 3X world champion Max Verstappen, who sits heavily onto the provided stool and sips at the can of the sugary energy drink in his hand, Max stared at the camera, a bored sheen coating his crystalline blue irises as the third, and final driver’s scene overtakes his.

This time Charles Leclerc enters the identical set, the Ferrari golden boy had narrowly escaped his fans-who’s screams of joy could be heard in the background as he waved a final time and pocketed a bright red, branded Ferrari pen whilst sighing, glancing around haphazardly.

“Lewis”

Hamilton perks up at his name, smiling serenely, prompting the interviewer to continue.

“The world of Formula one is ablaze about new entry, Aisha Patel. Do you think, as a seasoned professional, she has what it takes to compete?”

Lewis whistles lowly, leaning back against his seat and wraps his arms around himself, “Damn- starting strong huh?” He snorts once before re-adjusting his posture, “Y’know, we’ve heard of her up here. And she’s talented, but obliterating F3 and F2 does not directly auto-translate to domination on our track.”

“Is that scepticism that I hear?” The interviewer chases after the hesitation in the driver’s voice, like a dog after a juicy bone.

“Call it...” Lewis arches an eyebrow as he mulls over his words, “Healthy cautiousness. I’m waiting to see how she handles the pressure after the lights go out.”

“Max”

Max hums lazily, as though he had one too many bubbling seltzers that sat, pristine on the refreshments table, “Yeah?”

“Aisha Patel.”

Max clenches his jaw at the sound of her name.

“She’s said to rival your aggressiveness on track, what are your thoughts on her joining your world?”

Max scoffs at the seemingly preposterous statement, “What about her? She’s aggressive, so what? It’s skill that matters here in the big leagues. Give a baby a steering wheel to a supercharged car, that’ll be aggressive. I’m not holding my breath for her. “

“That sounds like someone who’s threatened?” He probes the already on edge driver.

“A threat?” Max chortles as if someone had offered him a mere penny for his thoughts, “I haven’t been threatened since kindergarten. I’ll let her have her try at the status quo, take one for the team and all.”

“Charles”

The alarmingly red adorned man tilts his head inquisitively at the interviewer, his gentle smile popping his dimples.

“Miss. Patel has been said to be relentless on track, throwing caution to the wind. Your thoughts on her violent debut?”

Charles hums as he nods his head, “It’s nice to see fresh blood on track, bonne, she’s certainly caught people’s attention. Let’s see if she’s all bark and no bite.” He mummers the French praise before shrugging at the end of his sentence.

“You’re excited to compete against her?”

“Of course- who wouldn’t be? New team, new driver. The more varied the sport, the more interesting.” He answers neutrality laced into his words, despite the excited glint in his eye.

“Thank you for your insights.” The interviewer thanks the men in their tapes, each of them reciprocating with equal politeness.

“Of course,” Lewis grins and claps his hands, turning to start chatting once again as he dismounts from the chair, already walking away.

“No problem,” Max nods his head once, stepping down from his seat whilst receiving a fresh can of Red Bull.

“Cheers mate,” The camera captures Charles leaning forward to shake the interviewer’s hand whilst patting his shoulder, before detaching to go and talk to the gaggle of Ferrari personnel who had gathered within the filming shed.

The 2025 drivers had gathered onto the Bahrain track, the relentless mid-day sun beating down on them as a few of them had the pleasure of black umbrellas being held above them, whilst other’s held small hand-fans in the large palms, basking in the cool breeze that the battery powered trinket provided.

Aisha walked out, her racing shoes tapping against the tarmac as she made her way towards the others. A few Porsche employees trailed behind her, one of them stayed closer behind her, offering her a metallic, grey hand-held fan along with a chilled bottle of water.

“Thanks,” She murmured, brushing the hair that managed to escape her ponytail, “It’s fucking boiling.” Aisha complained, tugging at her fireproofs whilst another employee came up to her, patting her face with a setting powder as an attempt to dry her skin.

“Can’t really help it, love.” The media admin, Sarah, pointed out removing her focus from one of the jittery interns to the driver, “Now- you’re going to walk out, fans are going to see you. Are you sure you don’t want to hide your face right now?”

Aisha cracked open the bottle in her hand, having pressed the condensation coated plastic against her forehead long enough. She faced away from 2-3 people surrounding her to peak past the acrylic barrier, onto the track, where the rest of the drivers stood haphazardly scattered around the starting position boxes that had been freshly painted onto the concrete polymer.

“It’s fine, I think I’ve already heard all their opinions on me.” Aisha groaned, fanning her face again as she kicked a non-existent pebble beneath her toe, “What could go wrong?”

She peaked out again, like a tense meerkat, only to be surprised with her teammate, Pierre chatting with his former partner, Esteban Ocon. His racing suit was already zipped up fully as he basked in the fan’s unintelligible shouts and squeals, the thick, grey fabric stretched over his body nicely as the different sponsor logos morphed to the wrinkles and dents of the cloth.

“He’s already out there.” She hissed, “Making me look like shit.” Aisha banged the back of her crown against the wall that provided her with the much-needed shelter, from both the sweltering rays and the assessing gazes of the crowd above.

“Nonsense lovey.” Sarah assured her, picking at the hem of her fireproofs and pressing a few of the sweaty, stray strands of hair back into position, “Pedro’s just catching up with some friends.”

“Pierre.” Aisha corrected, pulling up her identical suit from hanging lowly from her waist to her shoulders, thankfully she still had time to leave it unzipped.

“Whatever.” She flapped her hand dismissively, “Baguette man isn’t doing anything you won’t have to.”

“Okay,” Aisha breathed out, keeping her lips taught and still as her rouge lipstick was touched up by another Porsche jersey adorned worker, “My helmet?” She looked around, patting herself, as though it would appear out of thin air.

Sarah looked around her surrounding, panicked, before snorting and pointing to the ledge behind the group, “There ya go babe.” She leaned past Aisha to knock on the head gear.

“I’m a mess,” Aisha whined, picking up her helmet whilst rubbing the glossy exterior with an open palm, she runs her fingers over her last name that’s printed on the back.

“A hot mess.” Sarah corrected her, hooking their elbows together whilst ushering forward the teenage interns next to them- their hands shaking with apprehension as they gripped the phones in their hands, the gadget recording each moment.

Aisha stilled slightly as her foot contacted the tarmac, the crowd already hushing with undivided interest on her mere shadow. She could feel anxious sweat begin to build up on the nape of her neck, flushing her face and glistening against her skin.

Finally, after a few minutes of inner turmoil, she allowed Sarah to guide her out within the crowd of other team’s media escorts and her fellow drivers. The grandstands erupted with chaos, the rushing of footsteps- scrambling to take the first photos of her in her debut, the unravelling of flags, the patriotic colours burning against the pristine plexi-glass barriers and multiple little girls shouting happily at her image.

Aisha forced a smile onto her face, the unexpected praise soothed her blushing ears as she waved up at the viewing boxes.

“Well, well. Nobody’s ever screamed like that for me.” A voice creeped up behind her, causing Aisha to whip around with a cautionary hand on her chest.

A cheeky grin greeted her, “Lando” Aisha breathed out, leaning to the side of his stature to acknowledge the rabid paparazzi behind of them with a tight-lipped nod.

“Hey,” He greeted her, bouncing on the balls of his feet and tapping the top of his helmet that sat squeezed between his arm and waist, “You nervous?” Lando tipped his head boyishly, his curls falling over his forehead, hazel eyes softening as he watched her.

“Not really,” Aisha lied, “do you need to pee?” She looked at him anxiously, watching as he stopped bouncing like a full bladdered toddler, and stood still. Lando chuckled under his breath and opened his mouth to answer, until he lurched forward under the weight of a heavy arm that hung from his shoulders.

“Little Lando Norris.” Daniel chuckled, rubbing his knuckles over the younger’s head, and snorted when Lando pushed his hand away stumbling out from his hold, “Already chatting up the newbie?” Daniel looks at Aisha with a smirk, “I think his pubes finally grew in.” He faux whispered, his voice gritty as he winked.

“I’m not chatting up anyone,” Lando smacked Daniel between the eyes before walking backwards, next to Aisha, “Just catching up.” He shrugged, side-eyeing her, gauging a reaction from her steely expression. Luckily, he got one, Aisha’s eyes widened slightly, her eyelashes fluttering to match her hearts faster pace as she slowly turned her head to meet his eyes.

“Catching up?” Daniel inquired, suddenly interested, “You guys know each other from before?”

“Yeah, we karted together.” Aisha crossed her arms over one another, before accepting a cold can of thumbs up from a staff member, “Still remember how he shit his pants.” She mumbled.

“I did not!”

“What the fuck.”

Both men exclaimed at the same time, Lando blushing a furious red and Daniel cackling loudly- leading to not only the attention from the other drivers that stood in a 200m vicinity but also Aisha snorting out her drink from her nose.

“I did not shit my pants.” Lando gritted out the last part, to stop prying ears of the other men approaching to become privy to his humiliation.

“You did though?” Aisha arched a brow at him, “I passed by you on the last lap, therefore winning-“ She poked her outstretched pinkie from her can into his puffed up chest, “And that made you so mad, that you shit your pants.”

“Oh god,” Daniel wheezed, taking support on his shorter teammate who had trotted up to join the conversation. Yuki scrunched up his face, tilting away from the force of the elder before looking at Aisha sympathetically,

“You excited?” He grinned slightly, showing off the gap between his front teeth.

“Definitely. How could I not be?” Aisha looked down at Yuki, shifting her weight slightly as an attempt to lower herself, “The crippling pressure? The thousands of viewers? The weight of both of my country’s on my shoulders?” Aisha blew a nonchalant breath from between her lips whilst waving her hand in front of her face, “No biggie.”

The three men stared at her, blank expressions on their face, one of them pressed their lips together, smacking them and creating an equally awkward “popping” noise for the group to bask in.

“I meant more like, the race and stuff..” Yuki mumbled, scratching the back of his head before yelping when Daniel smacked the nape of his neck, “But yeah, what you said works too, fo sho, no doubt, no doubt.” He corrected himself hastily.

“Fo sho?” A fourth voice chimed in, this time with a French lilt to his words, “Who’s got yuki talking like that?”

Aisha looked away amusedly from the smaller driver to the voice, her eyes widened at the blaring red that adorned the man in front of her.

“My period wasn’t due until after the race.” She commented, meeting the man’s intense gaze, “Are you here to ask if I’d like to continue watching?” She tilted her head innocently.

“Ah, I see.” He scrunches his nose at her, “You’ve got our baby Yuki talking like that.”

“Hey, fuck you man.” Yuki protested, throwing his arms up with a huff.

“I know you want to,” The seemingly french-man retorted back with a shameful wink,

“You wink like you’re trying not to cry.” Lando pointed out.

Aisha clapped her hands at her revelation, “That’s what it looked like!”

Lando shrugged, as though it was obvious.

“Okay I’m sorry, I’m not here to start the next French revolution or whatever-“ She mumbled, holding out a polite hand as a civil greeting.

Though, she was not met with his acceptance immediately, instead the three men surrounding her grimaced and hissed through their teeth- Daniel shook his hand out like he had just burned himself. Aisha looked around, oblivious to the reason for their reactions and jolted her hand out to the man.

“I’m from Monaco,” He snarked, accepting her hand begrudgingly, “Not France.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” She shrugged in reply.

“Charles” he gritted out, squeezing Aisha’s hand tightly- a poor attempt to veil his distaste, “Charles Leclerc, Ferrari driver.”

“Really?” Aisha squeezed harder, taking a step back to roll her eyes over his bright red suit, “Couldn’t tell.” She snorted.

“Right, well” Lando coughed, reaching forward to peel away both of their hands simultaneously, “This was fun. Meeting new people.” He took Aisha’s hand in his but dropped it quickly when she looked down at their conjoined fingers. Lando coughed, the tips of his ears blushing a furious scarlet, before he shifted to glance at his oh-so-interesting boots.

Luckily, the situation was saved by one of the administration workers clapping their hands and speaking robotically into a megaphone, “drivers, please make your way to your positions.”

The seasoned drivers around her began to exit their conversations and walk towards the bleachers style setup at the start line of the circuit. At least 12 black, metallic chairs sat in a row behind a small plaque, displaying bold white font that detailed the circuit name and the iconic formula one logo sprawled along the edges of the display board.

“Didn’t need this fucking helmet.” Aisha hissed to herself, jogging to one of the Porsche employees that stood at the edge of the camera shot, handing off the piece of equipment, before making her way back to the crowd.

She zipped up her suit and removed the piece of elastic from her hair, letting the noir waves fall down her shoulders as she scanned the already in place men in front of her, thankfully Pierre waved at her and ushered for her to take place next to him, standing behind the pair of Mercedes drivers who were snickering at some joke the other had just told.

Aisha huffed, clasping her hands behind her waist whilst jerking her head side to side due to odd strands of hair tickling her eyes and nose, before she could exasperatedly wipe her face with her hand, a pair of fingers had come and brushed against her nose. Aisha minutely followed the soft pads across her cheek before trailing her gaze up to the origin, Lando met her eyes, his own irises blown out as his hand lingered by her cheek- his thumb twitching across her skin before he coughed and re-took his position.

“Thank you,” She murmured beneath her breath, neutralising her face against the onslaught of obnoxious camera shutters and piercing sun rays.

“No problem,” Lando nodded slightly, his eyes flicking back to her face, tracing her features with his shy stare, “You did great in qualifying, yesterday.” He hastily complimented.

Aisha tried to fight against the blush that made its way up her neck, “thank you,” she snipped, pressing her lips together as a futile attempt at hiding her girlish smile.

Lando huffed out a laugh, turning his neck to grin at her, “anytime.”

Finally, the pictures had come to a stop, and the long-barrelled cameras were packed away and the grid were herded to a large, open roof truck. Another admin worker trailed behind the last driver into the pen-like vehicle, stepping up the stairs to hang back from the railing after locking the gate, “everyone’s here?’ she asked, giving a once over the flocked in men, and woman.

“Aisha, you’ll be first to talk to Lawrence,” She met eyes with Aisha, who was already waving to the rowdy fans who had collected at the banisters of the grandstands, “And then it’ll be whoever’s closest.”

The lady nodded once when the drivers thanked her, then she caught Aisha’s gaze again and she smiled reassuringly, “See you guys around.” She waved and dismounted from the railing with a jump.

The large platform began to move as the truck silently hummed to life, Aisha moved from her comfortable position at the back of the area-leaning against the matte, black railing towards Lawrence who smiled excitedly at her approaching figure. As she knitted through the small groups of 3 drivers littered in her path, she continued to wave at the fans who shouted and screamed at each subtle view they managed to glimpse of her.

“Aisha! Hi!” Lawrence greeted her, offering his hand for her to shake and swivelled around to collect a microphone.

“Hello, hello.” Aisha grinned back, accepting the long piece of tech from him, comically rotating it in her hands observing the porous black material that had been painted with a flaring red to create the F1 logo.

“So, you’re finally here! The big leagues, and yesterday’s qualifying must’ve been very exciting. We’ve all been so blown away with Porsche’s car, and your performance. P5 ! Amazing. Walk us through what you’re feeling right now?”

“I mean, it’s a confidence booster of course, qualifying top 5- but I think that along with that it’s proving to myself and other little girls like me that it isn’t about who you are, but what you can do, regardless of gender or background.” Aisha nods once, leaning her elbow against the railing to crane her neck around and take in the track that lay ahead of the speedily moving vehicle.

“It’s great that you can showcase your talent and inspire young minds, but with that said- there’s obviously a pressure that comes with entering such a male-dominated sport.”

Aisha stilled slightly, her eyes wide and unblinking for a beat, “I mean, there’s always going to be extra expectation on you when you’re breaking barriers. The way I see it, this is an opportunity to pave the way for future generation, so really, its fuels my success and goes to show that gender or race, doesn’t correlate to your ability on track.”

“Well said, and while we’re on the topic of your determination, whilst being in the spotlight almost 24/7 and the battles on track, how do you maintain focus? It must be overwhelming.”

Aisha chuckled, turning to look at the other drivers, a few of them had tuned into her interview not-so-subtle whilst others were still deep in conversation, “I mean, when you’re battling against jumbo sized toddlers, and then being put under the loving spotlight of the media, I agree, it can be pretty overwhelming sometimes. But then I remind myself, why am I here? What am I here to do? And at the end of the day, it’s just me, the car, and the track, so I really don’t mind it too much.”

She shrugged at the end of her sentence, flipping her hair over her shoulder before unzipping the thick race suit. Revealing her tight, fireproofs beneath, the Indian flag sat proudly on her shoulder whilst her team logo lay sprawled across her chest along with the sponsor logos littered across the rest of her front.

“You make it seem so easy Aisha,” Lawrence laughed, oblivious to the tension that had gathered in the young woman’s shoulders and the tightness of her eyes that had increased tenfold throughout their conversation, “Last question before I let you go, to all of your young fans gathered here today-“ he pointed up to the bleachers that came into view on the straight that the truck was approaching, where multiple younger children stood, jumping in their spots as their Porsche hats bobbled on their heads, “-what would you tell them? Especially those who are most likely facing challenges in their racing journey?”

Aisha smiled serenely, imagining herself in the seats that sat so far away from her, what her younger self would long to hear to make her racing career just a little bit easier, “To all the younger dreamers, never let anyone else tell you your limits. They may say to stop, but you need to believe that you can keep going. Chase your passions relentlessly because if you do, then the only barriers will be the ones we allow ourselves to see. Keep fighting, because one day, you’ll see that you’re right where you need to be.”

“Wow” He sighed, hand on his heart, “That inspired me.” Lawrence laughed heartily, “Finally, maybe just a few words in your native language, now from what I know you spent at least 3 years living in India? For your education?” He looked at her questioningly, waiting for her response.

Aisha nodded happily, “Yes, I did! so you want a message in Hindi? There are so many languages in my country, but sadly I’m only fluent in Hindi, despite being Gujarati myself.”

“That would be great, please do.”

“Sabse pehle, main apne sabhi fans ko bahut saara pyaar dena chahti hoon. Aap log mere liye inspiration ho, aur main hamesha aapke saath hoon. Aap sabka support mere liye bahut important hai, aur thank you kehna chahti hoon.”

[First of all, I want to give a lot of love to all my fans. You are an inspiration for me, and I am always with you. All your support is very important for me, and I would like to say thank you.]

“Amazing, thank you so much Aisha,” Lawrence gently took the microphone away from her and offered a grateful smile before looking towards Fernando who had made his way towards the pair.

“No problem,” Aisha stepped away, patting the eldest driver’s back once before turning away and making her way towards Lando, who had already been looking towards her, waiting for her to approach him, along with Oscar and Logan who were engrossed in conversation.

The scene fades away from the three seasoned drivers and in the blackness another title appears, “RACE DAY” and following this the Porsche garage is finally revealed for the first time, much like the other teams the hard acrylic surfaces were decorated with the team colours and many engineers, technicians and workers were rushing around whilst other’s begaan to detach the hydraulic tubes from the cars in preparation for the first race of the season.

Before the first car revved up with anticipation, the halo was shown displaying the driver number and surname, “GASLY 10” and with that, the tubes were removed and the driver’s engineer pulled away, removing the iPad from Pierre’s gloved hands, allowing him to speed off towards his starting position.

The camera pans over to the second car that is yet to exit the garage, the driver within seemed to be hurriedly re-reading the car statistics, consuming that data over and over again, the scene rotates from the back of the car towards the front, where from beyond the middle column of the halo we get a glimpse of the large helmet following her heads sporadic movements, the Indian and British flag printed onto the front side of her head gear, peeped in and out of view as she handed away the tablet and she pulled on her gloves that lay waiting on the chassis in front of her.

With a confident thumbs up, she followed one of the Porsche employee’s guiding movements towards the other racers who sat in their cars, waiting for the start. Maintaining an even pace, she passed by the other cars, the exposed carbon fibre of Esteban’s Alpine in P10 and bright orange of Oscar’s McLaren in P7. She found her box waiting for her car as she pulled in and slowly removed her foot from the acceleration as she joined the grid in waiting for the formation lap.

The music faded away, to allow Aisha’s monologue to play over the still of the onboard camera, “This is it, I thought to myself, all the years of hard work and sacrifices have led up to this moment. This isn’t like F3 or F2-“ the live replay of the sleek interior of her F1 car is replaced by exhilarating moments of on track battles from her previous racing leagues, “- this is F1, where dreams are trampled on and shattered if you can’t keep up.” Her voice trembles slightly as we hear her take a deep breath in and the cars are overtaken with a new scene.

We see Aisha, in the same deep red sultry pantsuit, her side profile contrasted in the shadows as her chest rises and falls, “I remember the moment exactly, I told myself ‘Aisha, soak it in, the cheers and the feeling of other’s dreams, their expectations, cause it can make or break you.” She laughs incredulously at herself, “dramatic I know.”

“But it was electrifying, the whole thing, the thrum of the engines, the anticipation. I have never felt anything like it. But it’s everything I’ve trained for and everything I’ve wanted since I was little and racing go-karts.” Snippets of the raging, overwhelming sound of spluttering go-karts overtake the screen as one after another, we see young Aisha, drowning in an oversized sponsored uniform cut through the chequered ribbon.

“To the other drivers on the grid, it’s just the first race of the season, but for me, it’s my debut, it’s the first and only chance to prove that I’m meant to be here.” Aisha claps her hands, and the bursting flashes of her karting days cease, and we’re brought back to her, sitting in the tall stool, legs crossed over elegantly as she waves her heel back and forth, “The countdown began, and it’s lights out and away we go.”

The red lights above the Bahrain track fade away one by one, Crofty’s voice is matched with hers, and just as the sound of the engines crescendo, the scene ends.

“Right Lando- “

The young British man makes his way into the stool, wobbling slightly as he flails his hands before rocking back to stability. He lets out a relieved breath and crosses his arms over his chest, his fingers absent-mindedly playing with the golden, volt bracelet on his wrist the Luis Vuitton logo glinting in the light from his absent-minded movements.

“Hi, yes, I’m here.” Lando looked up at the interviewer, his eyes bouncing between the 3-4 different camera’s capturing him from odd angles, “Which-“he pointed at one of them, “-which one am I looking at?”

The interviewer laughed before leaning forward and tapping the lens of the middle-most camera, “This one.”

Lando breathed out, “great” before adjusting the pillowing fabric of his hoodie and stared straight into the glass barrel in front of him, “I’m Lando Norris, and I race for McLaren Formula one team.”

“We ehm we didn’t need that. It- it’s different from Drive to Survive,”

Lando cringed and rubbed the back of his head, causing the bracelet to ride up beneath the sleeve of his hoodie, “My bad- “

“Don’t worry about it, Now-“The sound of cue cards being shuffled could be heard, “Onto the first question, we’ve heard rumours about you and Aisha, especially during your karting days, care to elaborate?”

Lando sucks air through his teeth as he smirks, “Me and Aisha…” He looks down to his hands, fingers finding purchase on the angled charm of his bracelet, “We go way back, I mean, it was either me or her who were winning the races, she was,” He sighs heavily, his eyes starry as he looks back up to the camera, “She was, no, she is everything.”

“Can’t help but notice the bracelet that you have on, anything significant?”

“It’s symbolic, I guess?but nothing too big.” He shrugs it off, hiding away the jewellery from prying eyes.

The interviewer presses their lips together, humming whilst shuffling the cards once again, “Right, of course, but some fans have already started to notice that you and she are…close.”

“Close? We’ve always been close, it’s like electric with her, it’s hard not to be attached to her talent.” Lando smirks playfully, winking at the camera, “Karting with her was so intense, we pushed each other to the limit, and I will always hold her and those memories close to my heart.”

“Seems like obsession,” They laugh.

“Oh, it most definitely is, I mean, have you seen her?” Lando flourishes dramatically with his hands, as though the woman was sitting right next to him.

We are brought back to the first driver’s briefing of the season, mere days before the Bahrain Grand Prix, Aisha had just sat down next to Pierre and began to chat amicably with her new teammate, bouts of laughter erupting from the pair momentarily.

The camera pans from the bonding partners to Lando, still hiding his head between his palms in embarrassment, though from between his ringed fingers we see his emerald irises peeking through the gaps, staring thoughtfully at the enrapturing driver who was currently fiddling with the van clef, indigo bracelets that shimmered around her wrist.

Oscar, who was also curiously watching the woman jogged Lando, snapping the man out of his trance, “Mate- you’re drooling,” He poked his teammate’s cheek.

Lando slapped away the finger that prodded his face, “I am not.”

“Whatever you say,” Oscar hummed, turning his attention back to the administrator who was flipping through a few data filled papers, bringing their mouth closer to the bendable microphone. Oscar leaned into Lando, bumping their shoulders together, “Just be careful.”

Aisha breathed out a sigh, capping the black, matte Bulgari pen, slipping it into the awkwardly small purse that hung from her shoulder. She slammed the driver’s door of her car, having just finished a load of signing and smiling with fans, her main objective was to get through the security scanners peacefully.

“Hey stranger,” A voice came up behind her, tapping her arm.

“Lando,” Aisha tried to contain the quiver in her voice, “I thought you already got in.” She adjusted the neckline of her top, the tight sleeves hugged her shoulders and left her skin exposed to the warm sun.

“I did, I just needed something from my car and then I saw you,” He grinned at her, tapping his key card against the scanner, walking seamlessly through the rotating barrier, “You look like you’re about to walk a runway.”

Aisha laughed, tucking a straightened lock of hair behind her ear, “Thanks, you look…” Aisha assessed his outfit, a pair of light blue baggy, Levi’s and one of his own merch hoodies, “normal.” She cringed at her unnecessary honesty.

Yet, Lando just laughed and nodded his head in agreement, “Yeah- compared to you.”

Aisha continued to walk through the paddock, the British driver at her side whilst she waved to those personnel that passed by. She looked down at her own clothes, a neat, navy, off-the shoulder top that hugged her chest in all the right places was tucked into a grey mini-skirt, compliments of one of the many brand ambassadors of her team, the item was paired with a thin brown, gold buckled belt along with knee-high go-go boots.

“You could say that” She conceded, adjusting the golden Porsche chain that clung to her neck, “I was wondering…”

“Yeah?” Lando pocketed his hands.

“I you wanted to get dinner. For old times’ sake?” Aisha leaned forward on one foot, tilting her head hopefully before coming to a stop and waiting for his response.

Lando beamed widely, his eyes sparkling, “Definitely, I would be an absolute idiot to turn you down.”

Aisha blushed and looked down at the bracelets on her wrist, multiple layered golden chains which reflected light against her face in the most euphoric way, “Great, I’ll ju-“

“AISHA, oh my god it’s really her, AISHA!”

A shrill, young voice erupted from behind the pair, and a group of 3-4 young girls came running up to the pair. Aisha laughed to herself, plucking out the pen once more.

“Hello,” Aisha greeted the pre-teens who surrounded her, two of them dressed in a signature papaya orange whilst the other two sported metallic, silver Porsche merch, “You guys look so good!”

She accepted the hats and odd poster that the girls shyly handed her, “We’re so excited to see you race! You’re the only one who looks like us.” One of them spoke, her copper toned, youthful cheeks bobbed up with her smile as her long, black ponytail weaved with her excited movements.

“That’s so sweet, I think I might just win the race for you.” Aisha opened her arm for the girl to step into as they took a photo.

“Ehm, Lando, could we get an autograph as well,” Another one asked, already unfurling a second poster along with presenting the enraptured male with a sharpie.

“Absolutely! How could I resist?” Lando accepted the pen and began to sign the poster along with some newly presented items that the other two girls had produced.

“Thank you, guys, so much!” Aisha waved off the girls and turned back to Lando, already handing over her phone for him to enter in his number.

The young fans were squealing on their way back to their parents, who were just as excited for their young daughter’s interaction, “Did you guys see the bracelet?”

“What bracelet?” Another one asked, carefully rolling up her poster and handing it to her father, who tucked it under his arm and offered his hand for her to take.

“Lando’s, the one he wore for the whole of last season…” She adjusted her cap, looking confusedly at her three friends.

“Oh…I didn’t.”

“Neither did I.”

The screen faded away from Lando, sitting with his teammate whilst gawking at Aisha and we’re brought back to the present, the on-board camera of the Porsche is aimed at the lights that have just gone dark and all at once, a symphony of rubber against concrete fills the scene.

Aisha navigated turn one with ease, emerging from the throng of cars still in P5, her grip tightened on the steering wheel as she focussed every ounce within her body on the track ahead. The bright spotlights above her cast a blinding hue over the grandstands, illuminating the eager fans from around the world, their flags waved in their air as they watched with anticipation when she approached Lewis from behind, pressuring the world champion ahead as they weaved into the next turn.

Aisha aimed for the apex, seeing the slightest gap for her to slip past, as she pointed the head of her car towards the opening, she held her breath and pressed on the throttle. Aisha lurched backwards as she could feel the crackles of her under-board hit the track with each increase in speed she made, yet she managed to dodge the Mercedes car and fly down the straight, maintaining her tyres as best as she could.

The radio thrummed to life in her ear as her race engineer, James, began to speak, “Great work with Lewis, already around 1.15 behind you. Take care of your tyres for now and defend.”

Aisha breathed heavily as she continued to meet the corners and walls with barely an inch to save herself as a highly effective attempt to prevent more overtakes, “Got it.”

She continued her pace throughout the laps, the continuous build up over 20 rounds had inched her closer and closer to Carlos who was struggling in P3, his braking getting worse and worse with each sharp turn.

“James- how much closer do I need to overtake?” Aisha gritted out, flitting her eyes to the large, white metallic DRS sign that entered her limited field of vision.

“Only a bit more Aisha, it’s time to push.”

Aisha stepped harshly onto the gas, her engine thrumming all around her as she charged closer to the bright red Ferrari ahead. She could see the rubber of the tyres in front burn and smoke with every swerve. The roar of her engine filled her ears, drowning out the noise of her own heartbeat as she braced herself for the challenge, “Here we go,” she murmured, voice firm and steely with determination.

She surged her car forward, pushing her machine to the limit as she matched Carlos’ pace with precision and determination, the desert heat bore down in mirage-like waves as the two drivers danced on the razor’s edge of competition. One by one measly lap, the distance shortened until they were wheel to wheel, and all Aisha could do was grit her teeth until she could taste the tangy calcium as she continued the precipice of a wipe-out, the promise of a podium too good to lose.

Aisha’s heart pounded with exhilaration as they hurtled down the straight once again, soon enough the pair were met with the sharpest corner yet, Aisha pushed further and Carlos relented, edging away meekly to allow her to slip by. The crowd’s cheers washed over her, a wave of euphoria crashing over her senses as her heart swelled with triumph.

“WOO! P3!”

“Amazing work Aisha, halfway there. Get some distance between you two.”

“I can take on Checo,” Aisha promised, her aggressive spirit burning deeply within her core as her eyes narrowed into the back of one of the red bulls.

“Go for it, but be careful, your tyres aren’t that good.” James warned her, his voice crisp with caution.

“I got this.”

Aisha revved up once her power had flashed a promising green on the screen in front of her, “It’s time to pounce.” She promised herself whilst flicking the DRS button with her thumb, letting the flap behind her quiver open, the force launched her forward like never before as the lap count leached into the 40’s, Checo hadn’t yet pitted, neither had she, and suddenly, it was a battle of the wills.

She tried all that she could, nudging her nose into the smallest of gaps and backing out when he had angled himself predatorially, grazing her front wing enough for her heart to jump into her throat, “What the fuck is he doing? Fucking cocksucker, he wants to kill me or what?” Aisha had to remind herself to lower her voice.

“It’s within regulation, keep pushing you’re approaching DRS again.” James assured her.

The car trembled beneath her, like a jaguar waiting to pounce again after one failure, she pressed again. This time she nipped Checo’s wheel, causing for him to quickly move out of the way, narrowly missing a spin-off and allowing Aisha to speed into P2.

“FUCK YES! HOLY SHI-“

Aisha’s celebration was cut short when a dangerous thrum approached her rapidly, she attempted with all her might to duck and weave into and out of his path, but Checo was relentless, continuously rubbing against her wheels and forcing her to utilise her power.

“Fuck, fuck what the actual shit?” Aisha screeched as she continued to sloppily defend, her anger bubbling up like hot water.

The red bull growled and pounced in front of her, clipping enough of her front wheel to send her spinning. Aisha shouted with malice, throwing up her hands as her wheels began to rotate rapidly, “BASTARD!”

Her vision blurred as the world around her continued to haphazardly shift, the fans above stilled with trepidation as they watched her strangle her wheel with both hands and wrangle the car back into position.

“Okay, so that’s P5- P5, Piastri, Sainz, Perez and Verstappen in front of you,”

“Copy.” Aisha grumbled darkly, manoeuvring the vehicle so that she could continue to viciously speed down the final lap, murderously defending her position as her stomach finally settled and head stopped pounding with adrenaline.

The race ended with Crofty heartily congratulating her over the commentary,

“And Verstappen has won the Bahrain grand prix! with Checo in P2 and Sainz in the Ferrari in P3. Now the fans have spoken, and new-comer Aisha Patel has been voted driver of the day, rightfully so, securing a solid P5 finish after a challenging battle on the track. it's fantastic to see her scoring valuable points in her debut race. And let's not forget the incredible debut of the Porsche F1 Team! It's clear that they're a force to be reckoned with in the championship.”

A view of Max passing through the finish line is shown, sparks flew behind his car as he speeds through and turned into the parc ferme. Aisha is also shown, her eyes steely from within her helmet and as she stops her car she clambers out of the cockpit and rips of her headgear, a scowl evident on her usually cool face.

She pushes open the gate to the media pen, narrowly avoiding Max, who spared her a dark glance from over his shoulder before turning back to the interviewer.

“Yeah, people make stupid decisions sometimes,” She heard him answer the unintelligible question. Aisha could already feel the anger burn her throat as she whipped her head around and met Max’s eyes, he stared back, an inferno raging within his blue iris’. She opened her mouth to speak but was stopped by her Media manager, pulling her away gently, Aisha followed tearing her eyes away from the Dutchman. Yet, she could still feel his heated gaze on her.

Aisha scoffed passing by Carlos and Checo, who were conversing in fast Spanish, and headed towards the common media area, where eager and ravenous reporters began to clamber on top of one another as they caught sight of her sweaty face and stringy hair.

“Aisha! Aisha!” They called, loud voices breaking through the microphone and blowing through the audio.

Aisha huffed and went towards the tell-tale white microphone, the sky sports logo sprawled all over the foam cover,

“Hi Aisha, congratulations on the P5 today,” Mark started, holding the microphone out for the visibly annoyed driver.

“Thank you,” She snipped, but blinked a few times before forcing herself to continue, “Y’know could’ve been a P2 finish for Porsche today, but I’m happy with both Pierre and I’s finish, at least we scored some valuable points.” Aisha robotically recounted her PR training.

“Definitely a tough break for you out there,” He nodded solemnly, “Care to walk us through what happened with Checo on lap 43?”

Aisha sucked in a breath, looking behind her where her PR person stood, arms crossed over her Porsche shirt as she shrugged, “Yeah, of course, it’s disappointing end to my race, P2 would probably be a dream, but Checo made a-“ Aisha bit her tongue momentarily, looking into the few dozen camera’s pointed at her, until she noticed Checo’s reflection walking behind her, heading to the cool-down room, “-a dickhead move absolutely dangerous, there was contact because he couldn’t use his eyes, and that caused me to spin out. It’s racing, I know, but you don’t see race winners or legends making moves like that.” Aisha hissed.

Mark stared at her, mouth agape before he recollected himself and forced a flabbergasted laugh, “Well, that’s one way to put it.” The other surrounding reporters were close to drooling at the mouth, their own mics pushed further through the gaps as they imagined the debaucherous headlines they could create from her outburst.

“How were you feeling during that moment?”

“Truthfully?” She tilted her head, “Pissed, but you probably didn’t you marky-moo, my radio probably told you that. But after I managed to regain my original position, I was more determined to just finish the race with a solid end.”

He laughed at that but stilled when Checo emerged once again from the cool-off room, “Checo!” Mark called, oblivious to the thunderous haze that overtook Aisha. She checked behind her shoulder, and her upper lip curled with malice,

“I’ll let Checo say his bit- “She murmured, “Excuse me.” And left the pen, heading towards the Porsche garage whilst avoiding eye-contact with Lucy, her fuming PR manager.

“Hey! Checo!” Aisha called out, throwing down her headphones, leaving her race engineer in concerned confusion as she approached the red bull driver, amid his team, oblivious to the storm about to hit him.

“Oh, hey Aisha-“

“Do not, hey, me.” She snarled, “What the fuck was that on track? Were you trying to kill me back there? You could’ve overtaken me in so many other ways.” Aisha approached him, prompting Checo to take a simultaneous step back, hands raised.

“It’s racing Aisha, I had to make a split-second decision.”

“We all make decisions, Perez,” She snarled, hands balling up into fists, “You don’t see Charles or Carlos or anyone with half a brain doing what you did? You messed up my race!” Aisha’s voice begins to raise, drawing attention of the red bull personnel, since the pair had manged to slowly move up to the entrance of the garage, and prompting a few camera men, who were following around Lando and Oscar to pan over to her.

Aisha groans, smacking her palm against her head a few times as a display of aggression before turning back to a very sweaty, nervous driver, “Never mind my race- you had fucking so many other options, why? Why did you decide to clip my wheel? Is it because being overtaken by a woman was so embarrassing, for red bull’s number two, you couldn’t handle it?” Aisha mocks him, before starting to approach his frozen form, a violent fire burning in her eyes and spreading to her limbs, igniting them with her fury.

Just as there was merely a centimetre between the two, a pair of strong arms hooked themselves around her elbows, holding her hand away from Checo, who had started shouting about his “personal safety”.

“Are you fucking stupid?” A gruff voice whispers into her ear.

Aisha kicks out, a futile attempt to free herself, “Let me go,” She whips her head around, her hair flying,

“Can you stop? I will literally knock you out.” The voice continues, grunting when her foot narrowly misses his groin.

“Fine-“ She huffs, going limp as she shoots daggers into Checo’s retreating back being escorted by a flurry of blue clad workers, “Fine, let me go,” She mumbles.

The man drops her onto the floor instantly, allowing her to stumble over her feet. Aisha finds her footing once more and spins around to meet his eyes, “Max?”

Max stares down at her, his eyes squinted with annoyance, “Who else? You’re in front of the red bull garage.” He rolls his eyes and steps a large stride away from her.

Aisha blinks once. Twice. Before scoffing and crossing her arms, “Yeah. Thanks.” She snarks before walking away from him, leaving the dutchman standing, fuming in his spot. She manages to skip over the McLaren crowd but had attracted almost half a dozen cameras on her, the large intimidating lens’ were pushed into her face haphazardly, narrowly missing her face a few times.

Aisha had to hold herself back from stealing the cameras from their holders and smashing them onto the ground. She could feel a self-depreciating throb begin to build in her head, the memory of all the idyllic children watching her, and those who had felt represented by her made tears prick at her eyes. In that moment, with too many lens’ focussing on her quivering lip, she hoped that they wouldn’t catch the salty sadness that threatened to stream down her face

The post-race interview scene fades away, and a familiar red bull jersey is announced into the scene, the dark blue merging pleasantly with the dark grey background. We’re introduced to Checo’s frame, a placid smile on his face.

“Hi checo,” The interviewer greets the driver, who nods in acknowledgement, “Well, Bahrain was an intense time for you, especially the on track accident with Aisha, would you care to talk us through the whole thing?”

Checo clears his throat briefly, “Yeah, uhm, it was a tight battle with her, and she was holding her ground y’know, but I saw an opportunity to make a move and I took it.” He shrugged once, reverting his gaze away from the camera, “And, as an unfortunate by product, she ended up spinning out, but it’s racing, these things happen.”

“I think everyone knows that she seemed quite upset about the incident, did you have a chance to speak with her afterwards?”

“uhm, people say things when they’re angry, and Aisha was frustrated but I’m here to win races, that’s what I’ve been hired to do. Once again, it was a choice that I had to make, and it’s hard to consider everyone’s emotions while I do it.”

“Max, we recently interviewed Checo, and he had some…words to say about the situation in Bahrain, specifically with Aisha after the race. Now, we saw that you had intervened just in time, what was going on during that moment?”

Max shifted in his chair, slipping down slightly, and crossing his arms over his chest, “Yeah, I could see that the situation was escalating, with Aisha getting increasingly angry, it would’ve ended pretty badly.”

“You sound so sure about that.”

“Trust me, I know anger when I see it, and I know that races can get heated especially when avoidable occurrences aren’t avoided, but I also think that emotional regulation is crucial to compete.” He distractedly runs a thumb over his bottom lip.

“Does this change your initial views on Aisha entering the sport? Since you were pretty, pessimistic.” The interviewer cringes just as the words escape their mouth.

“I wouldn’t say I was pessimistic,” He quickly rejects, “But I think she had something to prove, just like any of us, she isn’t exempt from it. And she, raced like any of us would’ve in the moment, so do I suddenly think of her as a saint? No, but do I think that she’s building up to something? Maybe.”

“Aisha!” A voice calls from behind her, Aisha smiles at the fans who had offered her a notebook to sign, she watched them walk away before responding,

“Yeah?” She tucks away her pen into the silver, Porsche gym bag that hung from her shoulder.

Lando jogs up to her, tapping his card against the scanner before pushing through the gate and reaching her side, “Great race, you handled it...well…” He trailed off, unsure of how to spin off his compliment.

Aisha laughs at that, throwing her head back, ”It’s okay Lando, you don’t have to say anything” She tugs at the sleaves of her tight black jacket, the hugo boss label stretched over her chest as she pulled at the fabric, “I- I can get pretty mad,” Aisha shrugs, kicking an imaginary pebble with her shoe, rustling her oversized tracksuit bottoms, the three parallel lines on both her legs fluttered with the airy clothing.

“Yeah, that probably didn’t go down to well on camera,” He itches the back of his head, “I actually came to ask if you’re staying at the same hotel as the rest of us, Oscar took my car and I’m stranded.”

“Lando…” She sighs, adjusting the strap of her bag, “If you wanted to ride in my Porsche, you could’ve just said so.” Aisha gestured to her silvery 918 Spyder, the high-end sports car shimmered beneath the spotlights of the private car park.

Lando hissed through his teeth and grinned, “You caught me.” He held his hands up, “It’s the only way I can be photographed in the car without causing an uproar.”

Aisha tilted her head at him, “Oh, so nothing else is convincing you?”

“Hmmm, that, and maybe the very beautiful and scary woman who drives it?” Lando offered, holding out his hand for her to take.

She looked down at his open palm before searching the area around them, the rest of the grid had departed long before, leaving just her car and another in the parking. Aisha squinted her eyes at the remaining automobile, a Honda NSX, the only owner being none other than a certain grumpy blonde, who was more focussed on his back seat than on the couple who still stood in the middle of the concrete.

Accepting his hand, she revelled in the feeling of her fingers intertwined with his, soft skin against coarse knuckles, a warm aura enveloped her being as she guided them towards her car, pulling out the flat fob to click open the expensive machine.

Yet, as she watched Lando retreat into the passenger’s seat with an amazed, “oh damn.” and went to unlock the trunk to slip her duffel bag into, she felt an icy gaze glued to her back.

Aisha turned once behind her to where Max was sitting in his driver’s seat, eyes glued at first on Lando, an unrecognisable expression painted on his face before he slowly slid it up to her face, and his once oddly neutral gaze turned into an annoyed squint.

With that, the dutchman tore his eyes away from a now, slightly agitated Aisha, towards the open road and pulled out of the car park, speeding away to what she assumed would be the hotel.

“Hey,” Lando leaned over the dash, reaching for her hand that rested on the headrest of her seat, the other braced on her car door as she watched the retreating Honda, “You okay?”

Aisha jumped out of her disturbed haze, and back to where Lando was now rubbing his fingers over hers that had tensed enough to turn her milky brown skin into a pale white, “Yeah- I’m fine, just checking for reporters.”

“I’m that embarrassing?” He teased, watching her intently as she fastened her seatbelt and smiled at the sound of the purring super engine.

Aisha snorts, “No- not at all, just making sure that McLaren’s golden boy isn’t photographed inside a Porsche- with the grid’s certified crazy woman.” She pressed on the gas.

“Yeah, but…what if I want that?”

“What?” Aisha’s eyebrows knitted together; eyes still glued to the unfamiliar roads ahead as the GPS stopped squawking at her for a brief moment.

“I don’t care if you’re the crazy woman…You’re just, you. I don’t care about the rest.” Lando smiled lazily, his eyes studying her quickly flustered face.

“You’re a horrible flirt Norris.” She grumbled.

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