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vivwritesfics · 8 months

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Sweat, Baby, Sweat - MV1

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

Max Verstappen x RB Driver!Reader

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

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

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

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

Singapore was hot, hot, hot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, Max, I'm fine."

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

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

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

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

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

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"Just tell me!"

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

"It's just you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, it was too much for him.

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

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

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

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

"What stopped you?"

3K notes · View notes

beiasluv · 4 months

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yes, and? | f1 d!lfs

a/n: Ariana popped tf off with that house music, but ngl I have mixed feelings abt her allegations. don’t be a homewrecker bitches 😘

aussiegrit

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aussiegrit Ride a Porsche, save a horse…😆 yourinsta

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yourinsta

liked by sebastianvettel, jensonbutton and 218,718 others

yourinsta ride or die (literally) 😙

view all 35,256 comments

jensonbutton careful love

yourinsta will do 🤭

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landonorris soonn

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yourinsta anytimee 🫶

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username DONT MAKE UNNECESSARILY JOURNIES

jensonbutton

liked by yourinsta, aussiegrit, and 122,017 others

jensonbutton off seasonal things 🤣.

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yourinsta slow your horses on drinking mr button

jensonbutton will do love 😉

yourinsta I’ll keep an eye on that.

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username it’s also likely that one of them gifted the whiskey as well

username nobody can stop yn and her dilfs on this summer break

username HELL YEAH

username not complaining for the lack of content from the current grid (except Ms gurl herself)

yourinsta

liked by oscarpiastri, mickschumacher and 186,297 others

yourinsta I have no more storage 😔

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sebastianvettel sorry schatz ❤️

yourinsta I maybee forgive you

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yourinsta I SWEAR IT’S THEMM

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jensonbutton deleting is not an option love

aussiegrit buying a new one is

username OH???

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username Oscar and mick basically cringing at their father figure

username Respect the original rizz gurll

username Sebastian was and still is the original rizz, ask yn 😘

username kimi what are you doing hereeee

f1gossips

liked by username, username and 39,728 others

f1gossips Ricciardo, Vettel, Button, Alonso, and Ln spotted in a holiday in Ibiza, Spain. More attendants to be confirmed.

- admin

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username honestly it’s kinda weird that she keeps on hanging out with the older grid while she is literally a Mercedes driver?

username and what’s wrong with hanging out with people outside the current grid

username idk seems kinda weird to me, older men..

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username homewrecker much?

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username homewrekcerr so coquette 🎀

username you guys don’t get it (I GET HERR)

username Spain… so is Carlos joining??

username and Lando’s comment??

username I swear they need to show tf up

yourinsta

liked by aussiegrit, sebastianvettel and 186,727 others

yourinsta told you my selfies ate 😘

view all 18,017 comments

aussiegrit beautiful sunshine ❤️

yourinsta wish you were heree

aussiegrit I’ll definitely see you soon honey

username never let mark know what a dm is so I can keep reading their texts

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carlossainz55 did you pierced your tongue?

yourinsta no?? why would I do that

username why are they so siblings 😭

sebastianvettel

liked by yourinsta, lance_stroll and 385,167 others

sebastianvettel trip dump or whatever the kids say?

view all 27,526 comments

yourinsta correcto

liked by sebastianvettel

username get away from my mann 😘😘

username ngl you got me in the first half

username can the summer break be longer 😭😩

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f1gossips

liked by username, username and 27,156 others

f1gossips Mark Webber and David Coulhart spotted at the Porsche convention, Melbourne, Australia. Lando Norris confirmed in joining the Ibiza trip last week as seen with a fan at a restaurant

view all 962 comments

username i know exactly what you are doing by putting mark in this

username so was it Mark??? 🤭🤭

username Mark please comeback 😭

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username WHAT? WHO WHERE WHEN

username it was rumor but idk guessed it would’ve spiraled at the trip

username had a feeling that it was Sebastian 🤷‍♀️

username SAMEE TWINSS

yourinsta

liked by jensonbutton, aussiegrit and 426,268 others

yourinsta yes, and?

view all 197,727 comments

username OMF MISS QUEENNN

username QUEEN SHIT BITCH

username ITS CONFIRMEDD

username so can I call her ariana now? 💀💀

yall know the drill, interact if you liked it😘😘 let me know who’s your favorite f1 dilf

today’s a great day to take care of yourself!!

2K notes · View notes

coolemmasulivan2 · 3 days

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It's Always You

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: You and Lando share a mutual attraction, but you've kept things professional due to career implications. However, after his first win race, things may change, blurring the lines between friendship and something more.

Word count: 6013

Author's note: First time writing about Lando. I started writing this on the day of the Miami Sprint and then when he won the next day I told myself I would publish it. Tell me what you think.

It's you, it's always you Met a lot of people, but nobody feels like you So please don't break my heart, don't tear me apart

Miami heat wrapped around you like a steamy August day and even if American tracks weren't your thing, the paddock was definitely one of your favourites.

Working with McLaren since 2019 felt like winning the lottery. Travel, new faces, and a taste of different cultures – it was everything you dreamed of. Hospitality put you in the middle of it all – the team, the fans, even the families. Being young, you clicked quickly with the drivers: Carlos and Lando from the start, and Oscar when he joined.

Carlos was your rock, a protective older brother even after his move to Ferrari. Daniel was a blast, always making you laugh with his great sense of humor, and Oscar's calm personality mirrored yours. He became your trackside best friend, sharing everything over coffee and off-track adventures with his girlfriend, Lily.

Then there was Lando. Your relationship with Lando was different. Unlike Carlos, you saw him not as a brother, but as a friend... friends that had feelings for each other.

He was shy at first, stealing glances when you weren't looking. But time made his shyness disappear. Flirting became his game, playful touches here and there and unexpected hugs wherever he felt like it. You ignored the signs until his confession left you speechless in the middle of the night in Monaco.

"I have something I need to tell you." He said.

It was 2020. Monaco was hot that night. Everyone at the team dinner was buzzing about the upcoming classic Monaco Grand Prix. Like always, after the dinner, Lando offered to walk you back to the hotel where the team was staying – nothing new. You even joked about Carlos doing the same thing.

Like all the other times, you didn't think much about the gesture. It was something he used to do, and in your head, it was just a friend helping the other. After all, Carlos did it from time to time. Why should it be any different with Lando?

"What's up?" You asked, the streetlights shining on his face. "Getting nervous about the race? The car feels amazing, right?"

Lando messed with his hair. Your voice, normally like music to him, made him forget what to say. "Uh, no, not the race."

"Then what is it? Now I'm the one freaking out." You tried to lighten the mood with a laugh. "Did you lose your house key again? You're not staying with me."

He wished you'd just be quiet. "Fuck, Y/N!" He blurted out. "I like you." The words came out fast, just like his orange F1 car. Did you hear him right? When he saw the surprise on your face, he knew you had. "I, uh, I mean more than a friend." He stammered. "Like, a lot. You're always in my head, even in my dreams. All the fucking time. I can't even look at other girls because you're all I see. I just had to tell you. I couldn't keep it in any longer."

You suddenly froze, your heart pounding like a drum solo. Time seemed to slow down, with only the two of you and the warm glow of the streetlights as the real things around. You wanted to speak, but the words simply wouldn't come out.

"Please say something!" Lando begged, his voice shaky. "Anything! Even if you don't like me back, just tell me. But don't let this mess up our friendship!"

It didn't destroy your friendship, but it sent your world spinning. You realized your little crush on the driver was a full-blown fire, and with each passing year, the flames only licked higher. But every time Lando flirted, the same words you had said to him tumbled out: "It's inappropriate."

He hated those words. He'd always argue with you about it. "Come on, I like you and I know you like me too. I know it! Who cares about work? We can keep it quiet. It can be our secret." He always had a solution for every worry, but you remained strong.

You wanted to believe that you could remain strong.

The problem was, your feelings were turning into a rebellion. Keeping them bottled up was a losing battle, and you weren't sure how much longer you could resist the pressure from the driver.

Lando strutted into the paddock beside you, his black clothes and crisp white shirt doing nothing to hide his cocky grin. "Finally figured out why I haven't won a race yet." He announced, his cologne a heady wave in your direction.

You peeked over your sunglasses. "Oh yeah, Sherlock? What's the conclusion?"

He leaned close, his voice a low rumble. "No good luck kiss from you, that's what! Maybe we should fix that? Make it a tradition if it works."

A laugh escaped you. "So it's my fault, huh?"

"Exactly!" He grinned. "And if I lose again without a kiss, everyone's gonna hear about it."

"That's your best shot at flirting?" You teased. "Seriously, Lando, you're terrible."

A playful smirk tugged at his lips. He draped his arm around your shoulder, leading you towards the McLaren hospitality area. "The only girl I flirt with is you, love. Guess you'll have to show me how to improve."

Heat flooded your cheeks, betraying your fake indifference. Lando wasn't an idiot. He knew you felt the same way, a truth as clear as the Miami sunshine.

A booming voice shattered the playful tension. "Whoa there, puppet, keep your hands off of her!"

Carlos emerged behind you, clad in his new Ferrari blues. You turned to see him glaring at Lando, who simply scoffed and moved away, the arm around your shoulder replaced by Carlos's protective arm.

He leaned down, a quick peck on your head followed by a wink aimed at Lando, who rolled his eyes with a playful huff.

"Or what?" Lando challenged.

Carlos pretended to consider, then grinned. "Or I'll run you off the track at the race. And don't even think about getting jealous. It's a bad look on you."

Agree to disagree, you thought. Jealousy did look good on him. The way he tapped his foot impatiently, the way he chewed his lip with a focused intensity – those were the subtle giveaways that made your heart skip a beat.

"Leave him alone, Sainz!" You swatted playfully at Carlos' chest, the contact sending a blush blooming across your cheeks.

"Oh, look who's defending the love bird." He teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You blushed once again. "Shut up." You whispered.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Lando fighting a smile as you continued towards McLaren hospitality. A quick goodbye to Carlos later, you disappeared inside, ready for your daily tasks. Lando watched you go, his gaze lingering long after you were out of sight.

When he finally turned back to his friend, Carlos was waiting, arms crossed, a knowing smirk plastered across his face. "What?"

"Ugh, the both of you." Carlos rolled his eyes. "All this mooning and staring, it's getting pathetic. Just take her out, will you?"

Lando sighed. "I've been trying for years. It's always 'inappropriate.'"

"Well, try harder!" Carlos pressed. "Last thing you need is someone else catching her eye."

Lando's playful demeanor vanished. "What do you mean?" He pressed, a sudden seriousness tightening his features. Carlos simply offered him a pat on the shoulder before walking away, leaving Lando with a gnawing sense of unease. "Hey, what do you mean?"

The sprint had been a disaster. It all ended so quickly that it didn't give him enough time to think, no chance to catch Max and the others at the front. To make matters worse, the Stewards imposed a heavy fine of €50,000 for crossing the track while the rave was still ongoing.

Later, back at the hotel, he was torn between feeling exhausted and frustrated. A cold shower did little to wash away the bitter taste of defeat. He pulled on fresh clothes and collapsed onto the bed. Closing his eyes, he focused on the tension leaving his body, hoping for a moment of peace.

A loud ringing sound shattered the silence and startled him out of his daze. He groaned as he searched for his phone, buried somewhere in the crumpled sheets.

Y/n: Hey, Oscar and I are planning to watch a movie and grab some food. Wanna join us? We're in my bedroom.

Lando smile, looking at your text.

Lando: You know I like you. You shouldn't tell me when you have other guys in your bedroom. It breaks my heart.

Although he couldn't see you, he was certain you were rolling your eyes after reading his message.

Y/n: Shut up and get your ass here.

A laugh escaped Lando's lips as he pushed himself out of bed. He stalked over to the mirror, running a hand through his damp curls. With a flick of the switch, the room dropped into darkness, and Lando walked out of his room.

Your room was on a different floor, but soon a familiar knock came at your door. Your heart kicked into a familiar rapid-fire beat as you swung the door open.

"Hi!"

"Hey, beautiful." He cupped your cheek, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "Osc!" He jumped in your bed and in one smooth motion, he snagged a chip from the bowl you'd set on the nightstand.

"Hey. What do you feel like watching?" He quickly looked through your Netflix library, skipping over the typical romantic comedy options.

"Anything but that mushy stuff." Lando declared, earning a playful jab from you.

"Take your shoes off the bed, Lando!"

He chuckled, kicking off his sneakers. He leaned back against the headboard, his gaze lingering on you for a second too long. You were a black Simpsons shirt and matching sporty shorts, your bare feet resting comfortably on the cool sheets. A small anchor could be seen on your ankle, sparking his imagination about what other hidden treasures lay beneath your clothes.

The spell was broken by a knock on the door. With a quick smile, you ran toward the door, returning moments later with a stack of takeout boxes.

You settled next to Lando on the bed, while Oscar sprawled out at the foot like a contented cat. With the Avengers movie playing softly in the background, you devoured your food, a comfortable silence settling around the three of you.

Two hours passed by quickly as the credits rolled. Oscar groaned and got off the bed. You mimicked his stretch, feeling the pleasant ache of a relaxed evening.

"Looks like someone's having a sleepover!" Oscar teased, pointing a playful finger at Lando. The driver was sprawled across your pillow, a peaceful look on his face.

A soft gasp escaped your lips. "Oh, Lando!" you whispered, torn between amusement and a flicker of panic. He looked undeniably adorable, a mess of soft curls framing his face. You glanced at Oscar, who was already pulling on his sneakers. "We have to wake him up, right?"

Oscar chuckled, a knowing glint in his eyes. "We? Seems pretty comfy to me, Y/N. Let the man enjoy his rest." He started towards the door, but you reached out.

"Wait, where are you going? He can't stay here." Panic bubbled in your chest. The thought of him sleeping in your bed sent shivers down your spine.

"So wake him up!"

Your cheeks flushed crimson. "I… I don't want to wake him." The words came out a soft mumble, barely audible.

Oscar leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Then don't. Trust me, asleep is the only state he'll stay put. Besides, wouldn't you rather wake up to a grateful cuddle buddy in the morning?"He winked, leaving you speechless, alone with the British driver.

Oh my god, you screamed to yourself.

You tiptoed around the room, unsure of your next move. Finally, drawn by a strange magnetism, you found yourself kneeling by the bed.

Lando's serene face was illuminated by the soft bedside lamp. His chest rose and fell gently in sleep, a single black curl escaping the gentle mess of his hair.

An irresistible urge to touch him washed over you. Without thinking about it, your fingers reached out, tentatively brushing against the perfect curl. As if sensing the intrusion, Lando stirred, and his brow furrowed slightly. You quickly retreated to the bathroom, heart pounding as you slammed the door carefully behind you.

Leaning against the door, you let out a shaky breath. You hurriedly changed into pyjamas, suddenly aware of how thin they felt compared to your day clothes. But it was hot, and you hadn't brought anything else.

Peeking through the crack in the door, you peeked out, praying for the best. Relief flooded you when you saw Lando, thankfully still asleep, but now facing the other side of the bed.

You were wondering if that little couch in the corner was worth sleeping on. It looked quite small and uninviting. Sleep on that uncomfortable excuse of furniture, or share the bed with Lando? The answer, realistically, was obvious.

You climbed in, scooting over as far as possible to create a respectable amount of distance from the body next to you. Sleep, thankfully, came quickly. Maybe it was the exhaustion from the day, or perhaps the unexpected warmth and sense of security that came with having Lando beside you, but you drifted off faster than usual.

Sunlight, snuck into the room, painting stripes across Lando's face. He blinked, momentarily disoriented. Hadn't he closed those curtains last night? He sat up, surprise jolting through him as he realized he wasn't in his own bed.

Even more shocking was the sight beside him. You, cuddle against him, your thin pyjamas offering little to make him look away. One of your legs peeked out from under the discarded sheet, and Lando felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the morning sun.

What in the world? How had he ended up, tangled in your sheets? A quick glance around revealed his phone abandoned on the nightstand. It was still early, but Jon would be expecting him in his room soon. He needed to get out, get cleaned up and get ready for the day. But leaving felt like ripping himself away from something precious.

He stole a glance at you. Your face, relaxed and peaceful, was turned towards him. A stray strand of hair tickled your cheek. Hesitantly, he reached out, tucking it behind your ear. The touch, light as a feather, was enough to stir you awake.

Lando didn't flinch and when you fluttered your eyes open, his face was inches away. A wave of yearning swept through you, a desire for more mornings waking up beside him.

"Did I die and go to heaven last night?" His voice, husky with sleep, sent shivers down your spine.

"You fell asleep." You admitted, your voice barely a whisper. "And I didn't have the heart to wake you up."

"Right." He breathed the word out, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. His hand reached out, cupping your cheek with a tenderness that both surprised and delighted you. A blush crept up your neck as he murmured, "Lucky me." Then, a sigh escaped his lips. "I have to go. Jon will be at my room any minute."

You nodded and smiled, despite the disappointment tugging at your heart. You watched as he hesitately rose, groaning at leaving your bed. His hair was a mess of adorable curls, and his rumpled clothes added a touch of vulnerability that made him look even more adorable.

He grabbed his phone and sneakers and then paused, a playful smirk on his face. "So, about that lucky kiss for good luck?" He teased, a hint of hope lacing his voice. "We already slept together!"

"Go!" You muttered.

"Fine, fine." He chuckled. "See you later, love."

He turned towards the door, and an impulsive urge surged through you. Before you could overthink it, you were out of bed and racing towards him. He reached for the doorknob, but you were faster, grabbing his arm and spinning him around.

For a moment, confusion clouded his features, but it quickly melted into surprise as you planted a kiss on his cheek. It was a chaste kiss, lingering just a beat too long to be considered entirely platonic. When you pulled away, his eyes held a mixture of shock and something deeper.

"There's your lucky kiss." You whispered, your voice barely above a breath. "Now go."

Lando stood speechless for a moment, the kiss still tingling on his skin. Then, a slow smile spread across his face "Today is a day full of opportunities." He declared.

With one last lingering look, he opened the door and disappeared into the hallway. You leaned against the wall, your heart pounding against your ribs.

You had never felt more nervous before in a race. At the start, it seemed like Oscar could give Verstappen a run for his money, but then the safety car came out and it felt like you were barely moving until the end of the race, with Lando being P1. It wasn't until the checkered flag waved that you finally exhaled, a shaky breath that escaped with a nervous laugh.

The McLaren hospitality buzzed with excitement. Lando had finally done it. His first F1 victory, a triumph long overdue. You joined the celebrations, a wide smile plastered across your face, not just for the team, but for Lando himself. It was a moment he deserved.

"Great race, Oscar!" You exclaimed as the Australian driver entered the hospitality area and hug you. "You had Red Bull sweating for a while there!"

He chuckled, pulling you into a brief hug. "Thanks, Y/N. I gave it my all, but the real winner tonight is Lando." He winked. "I'm sure your champion will be here any minute, looking for his girl."

You slapped his arm playfully, a blush creeping up your neck. "Don't say that in here!"

"Everybody knows." He whispered back.

As if on cue, Lando appeared. His eyes scanned the room, a triumphant grin splitting his face when they landed on you. You saw as he and Oscar hugged each other and the rest of the team.

He weaved his way through the crowd, a trail of congratulations and backslaps following him, but it was you he was drawn to. Everyone else faded into the background as he reached you, his victory grin melting into a tender smile reserved only for you.

You welcomed him into a hug, a sweet and loving embrace. He buried his face in your neck, the scent of champagne and his signature cologne an intoxicating mix.

"We did it!" He murmured, his voice filled with emotion.

"You did it!" You corrected, pulling back to cup his face. "I'm so proud of you."

Everyone was engaged in their own celebrations as he took your hand. He led you away from the loud crowd, a silent understanding passing between you. As you slipped inside his driver's room, he locked the door behind him, a thrill of nervousness ran through you.

He closed the distance between you, his eyes roaming your face before settling on your lips. With a tender touch, he cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing a seductive path across your lips.

"Please!" He pleaded, his voice low and urgent. "Just this once…" You knew exactly what he craved.

"Lando--" You began.

"Please!" He repeated, his voice laced with a desperation that mirrored your own.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. A part of you, the part that had spent months pushing him away, hesitated. But the other part yearned to give in. You nodded.

He cupped your face in his hands and pressed you against the wall. The next moment, his lips were on yours, the taste of champagne a sweet surprise against yours. The kiss was hungry and desperate. You clung to his fireproof shirt. The world melted away, replaced by the intoxicating sensation of his lips moving against yours. All the reasons you'd held back faded away.

But just as the kiss deepened, a knock on the door jolted you both back to reality. You broke away, gasping for breath.

Lando groaned. "Yeah?" The voice from the other side told him they were expecting him. Lando rolled his eyes. "Just give me a minute."

When you heard the footsteps fade away, you reached for the doorknob, but Lando's hand shot out, his fingers wrapping firmly around your wrist.

"Stop it, Lando." You whispered.

"Don't!" He pleaded. "You can't tell me you didn't like it. I could feel it, Y/N. Don't deny it."

"I'm not denying it." You admitted your voice barely a whisper. "But you know why this can't happen."

Lando's jaw clenched. "It's NOT inappropriate! Look," he said, his voice softer now, "I waited this long for my first win. I can wait for you, just as long."

He cupped your jaw and before you could react, he leaned in and kissed the corner of your lips. He unlocked the door in one swift motion and stepped out, leaving you breathless.

You'd politely declined Lando's after-party invitation at the strip club near the hotel. You weren't the nightclub type, and deep down, Lando knew that. You assured him that you hadn't rejected it because of the kiss, but the way the call ended, left a pit in your stomach.

"He's mad! I know it." You mumbled to Oscar, who sat beside you at the hotel bar. The rest of the team was split between a game of darts in the back and loud conversations over drinks by the pool. "He didn't say 'bye, love' or 'see you later, beautiful', we just said bye."

Oscar facepalmed as he looked at his drunk best friend rambling about their mutual friend who was likely doing the same thing at the party.

"You're his friend, Y/N, not his girlfriend." He teased, sending a blush creeping up your cheeks. You stammered a reply, but the words got tangled up in your throat. "He's probably getting lucky tonight." He continued. "Deserves it after that win."

The implication hit you like a punch to the gut. "Lucky? You think he'll...?"

A mischievous glint danced in Oscar's eyes. "Oh, absolutely."

You downed the last of your drink, feeling a hollowness in your chest. "Good for him." You mumbled, the words lacking conviction.

Oscar groaned, frustration etching lines on his forehead. "Jesus, Y/N! The only girl he wants to get lucky with is you. Stop playing these mind games and making yourselves miserable!"

You rested your head on your hand, a wave of emotions crashing over you. "Oscar," You confessed, looking him straight in the eye. "I really like him. Like, never liked anyone this way before."

A slow smile spread across his face. "Then do something about it."

Lando was having the best time of his life, celebrating his first win with his friends. He felt his chest vibrate with every beat of the bass, as he laughed with his friends. Despite the fun he was having, he was also experiencing a dull ache. Your absence stood out.

He'd downed a few too many drinks to drown the disappointment steaming inside. When you declined the club invitation, his frustration boiled over into a harsh goodbye, which he quickly regretted.

"Did you see who just walked in?" Max shouted into his ear over the loud music.

"What?" Max pointed towards the entrance, causing a frown to appear on Lando's forehead.

Your arrival sent a jolt through him, he felt a surge of adrenaline and his earlier frustration vanished as a smile stretched across his face.

"Go get your girl, champ!" Max patted his shoulder with a wink.

Lando needed no further encouragement. He navigated his way through the crowd, his eyes fixed on you.

You scanned the room with a hint of apprehension. Even in your tipsy state, a voice of reason whispered in your head, questioning this impulsive move.

Just as you turned to leave, a warm hand closed around your wrist. You didn't need to see his face to know who it was. His familiar touch sent a familiar spark across your skin.

He wore a playful smirk, but his eyes held a hint of concern. "I thought you weren't coming."

You tried to appear casual, but your voice betrayed you. "I wasn't."

"How much did you have to drink?" He asked you, and you furrowed your eyebrows. How did he know what you had been doing? You stuttered in response, unsure of what to say. "Did Oscar let you come here drunk?"

"I'm not drunk! And how do you know I've been drinking?"

"Then why the sudden change of heart?" His gaze softened, searching your face. "And Oscar's been keeping me updated."

"Why doe--"

"Why are you here, Y/n?" He asked you.

You felt your face getting hot as you looked around the club, the among of bodies suddenly overwhelming. "I, uh..." You cleared your throat, the words catching in your tight throat. "I need a drink."

As you made your way towards the bar, Lando followed closely behind. You approached the counter and asked the bartender for a drink. He nodded and began to mix your order. Lando stood by your side, looking a you.

"How did you get here? Does Oscar know?" The concern in his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

You nodded and then drank the entire drink that was placed in front of you all at once. "Yes. He called me an Uber and told the guy to drop me here." Lando looked surprised as he noticed the empty glass in your hand. You hadn't intended to drink it so quickly, but your nerves got the best of you.

"Whoa, slow down there."

"I thought you wanted to celebrate!" You said to him as the bartender handed you another drink. You took it and walked away. Lando's face was adorned with a smile, but worry still lingered in his mind. Despite that, there was a sense of happiness as the night was finally complete.

You leaned heavily against Lando, his arm wrapped securely around your waist, as the elevator ride made you feel dizzy. He, somehow, seemed frustratingly sober.

"Hey," He chuckled, his voice warm despite the coolness of the metal walls. You managed a watery smile, lifting a hand to touch his cheek. "What are you thinking about?"

"Dogs." You mumbled. "Do you think they dream about bones?"

Lando's laugh filled the small space. "Maybe. I don't know beautiful."

"Do you think I'm beautiful?" You blurted out, smiling innocently.

He stopped in front of your room, his gaze holding yours. The concern that had flickered in his eyes earlier was gone, replaced by something more intense. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." A giggle erupted from your lips. Lando reacted instinctively, clapping a hand over your mouth. It was late, and the last thing they needed was a noise complaint. "Shh." He murmured. "Gotta be quiet, love."

You nodded. "Okay!"

"Where's your key?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of exasperation. You shrugged, the simple action requiring more effort than you cared to admit.

"Lando?" You whined. "Sleepy..."

He cursed under his breath, scanning the empty hallway. Walking up to the front desk for a key wasn't exactly his ideal scenario.

"Alright, you're coming with me." He said gently, scooping you up in his arms. A sleepy protest tumbled from your lips, but you clung to him instinctively as he carried you back towards the elevator.

"Can we go to the beach?" You mumbled as the doors closed.

"The beach will be there in the morning." He replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "It's almost five am."

A giggle escaped you. "Naked swim?"

He cleared his throat, the sound a little rough. You'd been a delightful firecracker all night, and he was struggling to keep his cool. "The shower's a much better option right now."

The elevator doors slid open, and with a sigh, he carried you out, your head chilling against his shoulder. He fumbled with his keycard, finally pushing the door open with his foot.

In the room, he gently laid you on the bed, the soft sheets making you relax and close your eyes.

For a moment, he stood there, watching you. The urge to pull you close, to feel your warmth against him, was killing him. But your vulnerability state held him back.

"Hey, love?" He said softly, his voice laced with concern. "Can I take off your shoes?"

You mumbled something incomprehensible but managed a weak nod. He carefully removed your heels, his fingers brushing against your ankle for a fleeting moment that sent a jolt through him.

"Maybe a shower would be good." He suggested, his voice gruff. "You'll sleep better."

"With you?" She asked him, excited.

Lando, still feeling the effects of alcohol, ran his fingers through his hair, feeling hot.

"You can't imagine how much I want to say yes... But no, not tonight." You pouted. Grabbing your hands, he pulled you up. "Ask me again tomorrow!"

He gently led you to the bathroom and helped you sit down. He waited for the water to warm up, and when it was ready, he turned around. Suddenly, Lando's breath caught in his throat.

Without him realising, you had taken off your clothes. You stood bathed in the soft glow, vulnerability etched on your face, wearing only your black lace lingerie.

He tore his gaze from you. His heart beat a frantic rhythm against his ribs, mimicking the feel of the alcohol in his veins. Only if you weren't drunk...

"Are you okay?" Your voice was so gentle and innocent, nothing like it normally sounded. You reached out and touched his back. He flinched the innocent gesture a powerful trigger for his already steaming desire.

"Y/N, please!" He pleaded. "If you keep touching me..." The sentence trailed off, the implication hanging heavy in the air. The more he looked at you, the more his willpower crumbled. Shame washed over him. "Love, just take a shower. You need to sober up." He gestured to a pile of clothes on the counter. "There are some of mine there. I'll be outside when you're done."

You stayed in the shower for a while, the hot water feeling good against your skin. You weren't completely sober, the world still held a gentle sway, but the edge of drunkenness had dimmed.

Stepping out, you wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel Lando had left out.

As you dried your hair, you caught your reflection in the mirror. Even in the state of mind you were, you knew you were going to regret it in the morning. You put on the clothes he had left you and shoved the feeling down.

Lando, scrolling through his phone on the bed, looked up when the bathroom door creaked open. Relief washed over him as he saw you wrapped in his clothes.

"Feeling better?" He asked. You offered a small nod, leaning weakly against the doorframe. The playful energy that had fueled you earlier had dimmed, replaced by exhaustion. "Good!" He said, a hesitant smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Sleepy?" You simply nodded again. He cleared his throat, the silence growing heavy in the room. "So... Are you comfortable sharing the bed, or...?"

"It's fine." You mumbled. A playful glint flickered in your eyes. "And I promise I won't, uh, bite."

Lando chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "Don't get me wrong, love," He said, his voice dropping to a raspy whisper. "You could do whatever you wanted most nights, believe me. But not tonight."

He gestured to the empty spot beside him on the bed, inviting you to join him, an unspoken tension lingering in the air.

You waddled across the room, the oversized t-shirt hanging loosely on your body. Climbing onto the bed, you scooted closer to him, a nervous feeling running through you, despite the lingering effects of the alcohol still dancing through your veins.

"Can we at least...?" You trailed off, your voice barely a whisper. "You know... a goodnight kiss?

"You're a menace when you're drunk, you know that?" He teased, a playful sparkle in his eyes.

You batted your eyelashes in a way you knew usually worked. He sighed, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Alright, alright!" He complied. "But on the cheek. Lips are off-limits tonight."

You couldn't help the grin that spread across your face. As he leaned in, the faint scent of his cologne filled your senses. He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, sending shivers down your spine.

"Goodnight, Y/N!" He murmured, his voice sending a flutter to your heart. "Hope you'll remember this tomorrow morning."

"Goodnight, race winner." You replied, a hint of sleepiness in your voice.

Sunlight pierced through the blinds, finding your eyelids and forcing them open with a groan. Your head felt like a maraca that had been shaken all night, and your mouth tasted like a desert. Sitting up cautiously, you winced at the throbbing in the back of your head.

Memories and fragments started to come back. The kiss, the club, the dancing, Lando's strong arm around you... and then... a complete blank. Panic started to rise in your chest. What had you done? Had you said something stupid or done something worse?

The bedroom door creaked open and Lando entered, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. He looked like a vision with his rumpled hair and a smile breaking out on his face as soon as he saw you awake.

"Good morning, sunshine!" He said, his voice sounding awful to your pounding head.

"Don't yell!" You mumbled. "Water?"

He chuckled, handing you a bottle of water. He sat on the edge of the bed, his concern evident in his eyes. You took a grateful sip, the cool liquid easing the dryness in your throat.

"Do you remember anything from last night?" He asked you, sitting on the edge of the bed, his concern evident in his eyes.

You took a deep breath. "I remember... bits and pieces." You admitted, shame creeping up your cheeks. "Lando, I am sorry if I did something or said something wrong... I must have been awful. I was very, very drunk."

He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Honestly? I wish you felt that comfortable around me all the time." Lando reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch sent a jolt through you. "You know how much I like you... Y/n, I'm in love with you."

Your heart hammered against your ribs at his confession. A real and pure confession.

"Lando--" You breathed, your voice thick with emotion.

He took your hand in his, his eyes filled with a gentle understanding. "I know..." He said, his voice a soothing balm. "Just know that I'll wait for you. However long it takes." He squeezed your hand.

Tears welled up in your eyes. The years of running, of pushing him away, suddenly seemed pointless. All you wanted was to be here, with him.

Leaning forward, you met his gaze. Then, you cupped his face gently and placed a soft, sweet kiss on his lips. It was a kiss filled with apology and relief.

"I'm tired of running." You whispered against his lips. "I'm in love with you too. I've always have."

Lando couldn't help but grin as you hugged him. First, the win, then the kiss and now the girl of his dreams confessing her feelings. Yeah, you could definitely say it was a very good day for Lando No Wins.

"I love you, Y/n." You smiled, a genuine, heart-melting smile.

"I love you too, Lando." You knew, at that moment, hugging the person you had been in love with for years, that you were finally home.

#lando norris #lando x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader #ln4 fic #lando norris imagine

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fangirl-dot-com · 1 month

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🐍 Track 2 - . . . Ready for It?

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

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Logan had a new phone. And for the first time in a while, it felt nice to just be disconnected from the world for a bit. The people who truly mattered had his phone number. His Instagram had been wiped, along with every other social media. The American had gone dark.

And apparently you had done the same thing.

His parents and brother knew where he would be, just in case for emergencies. However, he asked them to not text much. He needed time away, well, away from the current grid. It hurt him, seeing how supportive everyone was with Theo. No one had ever congratulated him when he first got signed. Hell, even Oscar hadn’t known right away, claiming he had forgotten.

Of course, he had given you his new number because you’d be the only person he previously knew that he’d still be in contact with. You also gave Logan you’re new number, having similar ideas to your friend.

Well, he had given George his new number. The Briton had texted his old number in a panic-like manner when Logan deactivated everything. Under a temporary contract, Logan wasn’t legally allowed to tell George anything except that he was safe and needed time away.

The brunet was not happy with that, but he let Logan know that if he needed anything, he would come running. A bit of happiness let itself seep into Logan’s heart, thankful for the Mercedes driver’s friendship.

When he had read the email after the social media posts went up, his mind blanked.

What did Andretti want with him? A washed-out jobless nobody. He believes they should have been looking at someone like Carlos or even Ollie, who was making good times in F2 car. It had to be anyone but him.

So why was it him?

He had been about to call you when you had first facetimed him on his laptop. He couldn’t even get words about before you started screeching. Logan chuckled as you went on a rant, as this could be their big break. His silence had given you a look into how he was truly feeling.

Your voice had quieted down on the device.

“You’re going to take the offer right?”

Logan winced at your tone, which gave you the information you needed. You rolled your eyes as you sat on your bed.

“Logan, we were just dropped by two teams that didn’t even want us. They pushed us away like we were nothing. And now, there’s a team with top potential that truly wants us, and you don’t want to take the opportunity?”

The American boy sighed. You had a point.

“I’m just scared that I’m going to get there, and then make a fool out of myself. Then Michael is going to see how truly bad of a driver I am,” he hugged out.

You could hear the fear in his voice, and it devastated you. Where did your confident and smiley boy go? Williams would pay for it, one way or another.

You were hesitant to say something.

“Logan, even if our times aren’t what we’re wanting at first, Michael said that we will get better. He’s sent my manager some data and it looks like we are scarily similar with our driving styles. Logan, the car is going to be made for us. Michael made sure that I knew that we’d have a chance, because I’m not driving if you’re not. Together or nothing, we come as a package.”

Logan sat up quickly off his bed. He glared at you through his laptop.

“You did not just quote Charles Leclerc to me.”

“And what if I did?”

“No, you can’t give this offer up if I don’t drive.”

You glared back at him, although you had a smile.

“It’s either both of us, or none of us. I’m tired of never seeing you, and you need a friend you can count on. I’m sorry to say but Oscar has done a very shit job of being your friend. I’d say that George is a better friend than him.”

Logan sighed. “No, you’re right. It’s just hard to accept that.”

Your smile dropped a bit.

“Logan, he was supposed to be your friend and then he dropped you. Everyone had dropped you so many times and you’ve been the one to pick yourself back up. But now, you’ve been dropped a final time, yet someone wants to be the first to help you back up, to clean your wounds, and to heal you. And now you don’t even want that?”

You had a point.

Like always.

“Your words never seem to fail me woman.”

“That’s because men are the inferior being.”

Logan snorted.

“Will I see you in Milan next week?” you asked with hopeful eyes. Logan could see the glimmer that shined in them. He didn’t want to be the person to damped that.

“I will see you in Milan.”

The first thing that popped into Logan’s mind when he got to the base was “Holy Shit.”

The building was massive as he walked through the giant doors. He really thought that this was a movie set with how grand it was. Surely this couldn’t it? Maybe he had the wrong address.

“Mr. Sargeant?”

Or maybe he did. His body turned to the lady standing near the front desk. He showed a smile that was definitely a tad too wide and showed too many teeth. Thankfully the lady didn’t show any malice as she sweetly grinned at the blond.

“Yes ma’am. That’s me.”

Always the good southern-hospitality manners with him.

“I’m glad you could make it. If you’d follow me, Michael is waiting in his office for you.”

Logan breathed a sigh of relief when he finally knew that he didn’t have to circumnavigate the entirety of the building.

The air was fresh as he walked behind the lady, who he now knew as Marissa Andretti, Michael’s sister and Head of Directors. Her own American accent was like a comforting blanket to Logan. Gosh, did he miss hearing a familiar voice to his own during 2023.

The one voice he couldn’t wait to hear was your own. He knew he’d be safe once he heard the lisps of a Southern draw when you talked. The slurred vowels and the biting consonants would be music to his ears.

“How have you liked the simulator and the data so far?” Marissa asked as she led Logan down yet another hallway. How big was this building and were they leading him to his death?

Yet, despite his concerns, Logan was very happy with the results.

“The car is already so fast. It’s like it’s just an extension of me instead of working against me. It feels so right.”

Technically, Logan had been on the first plane to Milan to start testing, as his own anxiety wouldn’t let him wait until the week was up. You had your own simulator back in the States, so you did your testing there. Logan had been back in London when the email came, and his set up was not going to function with the high tech that Andretti needed.

Marissa smiled over her shoulder. “Good, that is exactly what we are wanting to hear.”

Finally, she stopped in front of a door that had a giant-ass A on the front. Logan wanted to laugh at the cinematics. Surely, this was a movie and he was going to be the main character. Marissa pushed a button and the door slowly swung open.

Logan’s smile grew once he saw you in one of the very plush seats in front of the desk. You immediately stood up and jumped into his arms. He breathed deeply and all weight slowly melted from his body. It had been so long since he had gotten to hug you, hold you, feel you.

When you pulled away, you had a blinding smile on your face.

“Glad to see you here Logs.”

His nose scrunched at the old nickname.

“I don’t think you’ve called me that since we were 12, Y/n.”

You huffed.

“Fine, no nickname for you.”

“I take it back. I ban you from calling me Logan.”

“Isn’t that your name?”

“No?”

“Logs!”

“Ah there it is!”

A cough signaled to Logan that they weren’t actually alone. He sheepishly turned around to face the man who, hopefully after this meeting, would be his boss for a couple of years. Logan turned his full body towards the desk and stepped with his hand outstretched.

Michael had a knowing smile as he shook Logan’s hand.

“I am so sorry sir, I didn’t even realize that you were already here, and I haven’t seen her in a while, and it’s so good to just here the accents because the grid is entirely too European and Asian, sometimes I couldn’t even understand them, and…”

Michael put his hands on Logan’s shoulders.

“It’s just fine kid. I totally get you.”

Logan visibly relaxed under Michael’s hands.

“Now, why don’t you sit down and we can start talking contracts.”

Logan lit up at the word.

“Contracts?”

You gave him a smirk.

“Yes Logs, contracts.”

Logan felt as though he couldn’t breathe. But this time, it was with excitement and not dread. His butt quickly found the seat next to yours. Marissa left the room with promises of coming back with celebratory drinks.

Michael pulled out two small stacks of paper before he started speaking.

“So, I’ve talked with both of your managers and we’ve come up with a contract. You two can look over it as I read the big details. The finer print is stuff that you both have already previously gone over, but you are still encouraged to look over it one final time.”

You and Logan had the same exact papers.

In the initial emailing process, the two of you had voiced that you were a packaged deal. Logan was surprised to see that Michael had said that he wouldn’t want it any other way and was glad to possibly not have to deal with drivers hating each other. Logan thought anything would be better than Brocedes 2016.

You looked down at the words as Michael read them out loud.

“Ok, so in the contract, the two of you will be signed until 2027. There is an exit clause in section C, but we are not allowed to terminate prior to 2027. The two of you will be granted ambassadorship with whatever sponsors we’ve received. The sponsorships are in section E and it gives a rundown of each one and what they will be contributing to the team.

“Per secrecy of wanting to keep the identities secret until we reach the grid for testing, the two of you will go under pseudonyms.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Like a call sign?”

Marissa flashed a wicked grin.

“Exactly like a call sign.”

You continued, “Do we get to come up with them?”

Michael clasped his hands. “So we thought that Y/n could go by Phoenix and then Logan would go Venus.”

Your eyes widened as you took in the name. Wasn’t too bad, you thought.

Logan let out a sigh of relief. “At least it’s not like Eagle or something. That would be super obvious.”

The boss-man chuckled before he looked back down at the contract.

“Since the two of you did not specify a salary, we took the liberty to come up with one ourselves. But please feel free to mention what you’d like and we can always raise it. We also liked to put in that for every point scored, the two of you get a bonus as a little incentive. The salary will not be dropped no matter if points are scored or not. Think of it as a baseline.”

Michael chuckled as he watched yours and Logan’s eyes drastically widen at the sight of the eight digits before the decimal. Logan gulped at the sight.

“Michael, I think you added too many zeros.”

“I think I didn’t add enough.”

Logan couldn’t respond.

You looked up from the paper to Michael. “I think it’s high enough.”

The goateed-man smiled back at you and continued.

“I’ve seen the skills parts on your resumes and thankfully the two of you do not need to learn Italian from scratch. I don’t even know when the two of you had time to learn it, but thankfully it is not required in meetings or in the garage.”

Logan smirked as he looked at the words.

“What’s the fun in that? We can have secret conversations with ourselves.”

You tapped his shoulder.

“Except Ferrari will know and maybe Lewis.”

“I’ll have my Duolingo account at the ready.”

Michael watched as the two of you pored over the papers and bickered like an old married couple. He and Marissa already had a bet going to see when the two of you would get together. But, you didn’t need to know that.

“I digress. You can speak in Italian if you want to. The next couple of sections are just PR related. The two of you wanted to bring you own teams in, which is fine. I’ve sent emails and meeting times to each of them and have been replied to. All is in motion. Logan, you mentioned something to me once about your personal trainer leaving?”

A sigh left his lips at the mention of Benny. He really didn’t want anyone else. He slowly nodded.

“He had to leave to be with his family. Williams wasn’t the most accommodating and he was told that he had to be at every race. Normally I didn’t even need him until race day. He’d miss so much time with his family because of traveling and things like that.”

“Well, I think we have you covered.”

Logan looked back down at the paper. A small gasp left his lips.

Ben Jacobs was written in black ink under “Personal Trainer.”

“How?”

Michael smiled.

“It took some convincing, but he said he’d come back for you. Of course, Ben will be highly compensated to return after he said he wouldn’t. His family will also be accommodated for any race that they’d like to attend and Ben can show up however late he needs. His leave will also be paid time as well.”

Logan could kiss the man if he could. Tears pooled in his eyes and he could only manage a small thank you. Your hand rested on his shoulder in comfort. He just couldn’t wait to see him again.

“Looks like that is everything. Are you two ready to sign?”

Yours and Logan’s heads nodded eagerly as pens were uncapped. There was light scratching for a few moments as you filled out the needed information on the multiple sheets of paper. Once everything was completed, you let out a sigh of relief. You and Logan could finally do this.

Marissa showed up at the right moments with a few different beverages. You took one of the iced americanos, claiming that Italian espresso was, in fact, the best kind. Logan surprised you as he took a mimosa.

He side-eyed you.

“It’s freshly squeezed orange juice and you cannot go wrong with it. It’s a classic.”

You held you drink up and your other hand in mock surrender.

Michael took a black coffee and sipped it.

“Now, onto the fun stuff.”

Your eyebrows pinched. “Fun stuff?”

Michael smirked before pulling up a projector that was attached to his laptop. He started to click through the slides.

“First, the car.”

On the slide was a sleek yellow and black livery. The black really highlighted the tamer yellow.

Michael pointed at it.

“This is our 2024 livery. We designed it awhile back, but it’s finally going to be used.”

You let out a whistle as a video played the engine noise. To you, it sounded fast. You had been able to do a few laps with an actual car to get the feel of it since IndyCar were so much different. Michael claimed though that you were a natural in the car, being able to command it to what you needed it to do. Logan was quite the same.

The next slide showed multiple models of Lamborghinis. With it came a smirk from the sister and brother pair.

Logan looked at them.

“I don’t know whether to be excited about the smirks or nervous.”

Marissa was the one to pull up something on her personal iPad. She showed the official Lamborghini website.

“Because the two of you will now technically ambassadors for Lambo as well, you two need to pick out what models the two of you would like to own. For now, we can start with one, but Tonino wanted his drivers to start a small collection.”

You made her pause.

“Tonino, as in, Tonino Lamborghini?”

Marissa sent a gentle smile to calm you down.

“Yes. Mr. Tonino will be at quite a few races to watch. He has mentioned wanting to see Ferrari fail, but our data is saying that although we look promising, there’s not guarantee.”

Logan exhaled sharply.

“No pressure right?”

Michael leaned forward over the desk.

“Listen to me Logan. You have been with a team that has now destroyed every bit of self-confidence. Mr. Tonino is actually the one who put your name on my radar. If you’re good enough for him, you need to believe that you’re good enough for everyone else.”

Logan was taken back. Mr. Tonino was the one to bring him up? He felt honored in a good way. A nod of his head let Michael and Marissa know that they could continue. Logan turned your way, only to find you already smiling at him. He hoped that he could always be on the receiving end of that smile.

Marissa continued where she left off.

“Just look over the models and customize it however you’d like. We’ll get it sent to the factory to be made in time for the first race in Bahrain. These cars will be shipped along with our supplies so you can always have them.”

You smirked. “I’ve always wanted a black Lamborghini Aventador.”

Logan turned to Marissa. “I’d love a black Lamborghini Huracan.”

A smile grew on your face. “Aw, Logan. We’ll get matching Lambos.”

Logan thought that if you had been an emoji, you’d be the one with the big teary eyes and a pout. Marissa looked pleased at the requests for the different models.

You raised your hand. “Do we need to start looking for places to stay here in Milan?”

Michael lifted his eyebrows.

“You don’t actually. Between races, the two of you are more than welcome to either go home or adventure somewhere. We will let you know when it is crucial to come back here to do some testing. Housing is provided when you need to be here. There are multiple estates that can be used on bought property.”

You and Logan definitely liked the sound of that. Maybe you could stay in close villas or something. Or maybe in the same place as you tended to get lonely. That’s what being pushed out of everything does to someone in a year. You can’t remember the last time that you were invited to do something with the team, always retreating to your small hotel room after a race. You feel as though Logan might feel the same.

Michael moved to the next slide, showing the race suits.

“These are the suits for the season. Black or white fireproofs will go well with them. Helmets are up to the two of you. You will need on standard for some races and then you can choose what races you want fun ones to be. Miami, Austin, Las Vegas, and Imola are going to be considered our home races.”

“What about Monza?” Logan questioned.

Michael had a glint in his eyes.

“That will forever belong to the Tifosi I’m afraid.”

You decided to pipe up.

“Or Charles Leclerc. I feel like wherever he goes, the Tifosi goes with him. You make him trade teams, the Italians will follow him.”

Logan shot you a teasing look.

“You always have to bring him up in one way or another.”

You shrugged.

“He’s a good driver. Let’s not bring up that you’re such a fanboy for Max Verstappen of all people.”

Logan’s torso shifted.

“It’s not every day that one beats Sir Lewis Hamilton and take away his 8th championship!”

Laughs erupted from Michael and Marissa, making you and Logan pause. You cleared your throat.

“Sorry, please continue.”

Michael went a bit further with the slides, going over compatible data to the car. He went over sponsors and things like that before he finally leaned back into his chair.

“Are we able to drive the cars today?”

Much like you were, Logan was itching to be back behind the wheel. And hopefully, the wheel belonged to a reliable car.

Michael stood from where he sat, making you and Logan also rise to your feet.

“I’d thought you’d never ask,” he said, making his way to the door. When the two of you didn’t follow, he turned back around.

“Are you ready for it?”

lamborghini_racing has posted

Lamborghini_racing Are you ready for it?

liked by y/n.nation, logang2, box_box_express, and 4,205,095 others

l4mbo.child a hello or how are you doing WOULD HAVE BEEN NICE

f1_fan I fear they have gagged the entire grid with this

ferrariforza damn, I thought we had the best livery - sorry kings 👑

lambo_drivers all I'm asking is who is going to be driving this beast?

lo-girlies do I even utter his name in fear that it might not happen?

y/nfan or even utter her name?

thepaddock_person who 🤨

childofF1 I'll say it - LOGAN AND Y/N FOR LAMBO 2024

box_box_express the paint, the yellow, the black, the lighting, THE EVERYTHING

taylorswiftxf1 I see the admin is a Taylor fan??

phoenix95 has posted

phoenix95 baby let the games begin

liked by venus2, Lamborghini_racing, y/n.nation, dior, and 2,195,086 others

4theF1_girlies EXCUSE MEEEEEEE

driver95 ayo - we got the Lightning McQueen number with a queen

lambo_duo oh gosh I hope I live to see the day that they reveal their drivers

venus2 looking snazzy 😎

phoenix95 no one ever says that anymore

venus2 🥺

phoenix95 fine...thank you

venus2 🥰

venusxphoenix WHOEVER THEY ARE - THEY HAVE MY HEART

rising_phoenix95 immediate fan

lambo_child the Aventador is such a slay 💅

lambof1 I wonder if they have like matching cars with their contracts

venus2 has posted

venus2 let the games begin now

liked by phoenix95, marissa_andretti, Lamborghini_racing, and 4,205,850 others

lambof1 I THINK I CALLED IT?? THE MATCHING BLACK CARS

pitstop_nightmare I'M SORRY FERRARI BUT THIS IS TOO SEXY

lamborghinivsferrari THE HURACAN 🥵😱

c16_leclerc I'm guessing they went to Charles's school of serving cunt

hamilton44lewis and graduated with a degree in slay

phoenix95 that's sexy baby

venus2 thanks 😚

phoenix95 ...I was talking about the car?

venus2 sure...sure you were 😈

box_box_express I feel like I have some sleuthing to do - hold please

logansarg2 I miss Logan so much - it's heartbreaking to see all of his accounts go dark, I guess I'll have to stan this dude instead

y/n.nation I miss our girl so much

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @disneyprincemuke @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

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scuderiahoney · 2 months

Text

Oscar Piastri x reader // in motion pt 2

hockey au part 2: a lil backstory, Max Verstappen’s Pizza Theory, breakfast for dinner, and the beginnings of a physics study club. 5.7k words

warnings: mentions of sports related injuries, alcohol, and a creepy guy at a party.

You met Lando your freshman year, in an intro level writing class. Lando Norris may be great at hockey, but he was and still is absolutely atrocious at writing, which you discovered quickly when you’d been paired up with him for a partner project. He was the most talkative person in the whole class, and also the most likely to fall asleep. You couldn't blame him. It was an 8 am class, and from what you could tell, he had early morning hockey practices nearly every day.

He’d noticed the Timberwolves Soccer sticker on your laptop case, the one you’d been picking at the edges of at any available moment, trying to peel it off. It wouldn’t budge. He’d tried to use that as a common interest, a way to make a connection. He hadn’t known how much of a touchy subject it was. How could he have? The two of you barely knew each other's names.

You’d been angry at the world, at the time. Fresh off a life changing injury, still dealing with the physical therapy afterwards and stuck feeling like it was all so painfully obvious due to the knee brace on your leg. You’d only come to the stupid school to play on the soccer team, anyways. A month into your freshman year, injured and off the roster, with your chances of ever playing again looking bleak, you’d had a hard time trying to find a new reason to be there.

Before you met Lando, the soccer team had been your main source of friends. When you got injured, it all went to shit. At first, you hadn’t blamed them for the distance. You were dealing with something none of them even wanted to think about. But when you had to have surgery and none of them even bothered to text and check in, you’d begun to feel bitter. It had felt so lonely, in a town where you knew nobody, and the few people you’d connected with had slipped away. Lando had helped change that. His team had helped change that.

By the time you had to have a second surgery during winter semester, you’d been fully adopted by the entire Timberwolves Hockey team. They’d sent cards and flowers that filled up the room. Lando had visited every day, at least one of his teammates in tow. Max hadn’t been team captain at the time, but he’d taken the lead on getting a schedule set up to have people help carry your things to class for you while you were on crutches. You’d found a family, a reason to stay at the school, even without your beloved sport. You’d never be able to thank them enough for it.

Now you’re in your junior year of college and sitting in the stands at a hockey game instead of on the field at a soccer game, but the people on the ice are all your best friends. They’re losing, quite terribly, if you’re being honest. The stands are half empty. They’re just… off, today, in the second game of the week. Not quite in sync. You can see the frustration on all of them even from all the way up in the stands. Charles and Carlos are bickering on the bench. Max is skating messily. Lando looks lost on the ice, like his skates have a mind of their own. Even Oscar is struggling.

When the buzzer sounds for the end of the game, you stand up from your seat and head outside. Lily’s not here tonight- she has to work- so you’re on your own as you head toward the house. You text Max and ask if you should order pizza. He replies with an enthusiastic yes, a list of requests, and $100 on Venmo.

You have the pizza waiting, along with paper plates and Gatorade, by the time the first one of them walks into the house. It’s Oscar. He shuffles into the kitchen and looks at the pizza boxes with a wrinkled nose.

“Are you guys having a party?” He asks.

You sort of hate the way he says it. You guys. Like it’s not his house. Like it’s not his team. You know the feeling, really, of sort of just drifting along with nothing to cling onto. You tilt your head at him and slide a bottle of Gatorade across the counter towards him.

“No,” you say, and his shoulders relax slightly. “Usually after a tough game, Max likes to do some sort of team bonding. So. Pizza. He didn’t tell you?”

Oscar shrugs. “He probably did. Dunno. I was kind of out of it, and I snuck out as soon as the coaches were done yelling.”

You wince and nod in understanding. “I used to be the same way after bad games.”

You don’t even realize what you’ve hinted at until his head jerks up from where he’s been staring at the bottle in front of him. “You play sports?”

You chew on the inside of your cheek. You suppose he’ll hear the story eventually, but maybe now isn’t the best time. Maybe he doesn’t need your pity party while he’s trying to have his own. Maybe it’s nice that he doesn’t feel bad for you, just confused by you and your constant presence around the hockey team.

“Used to,” you say. When his face flickers with confusion, you hand him a paper plate. “Have some pizza. Captain’s orders.”

He stands there, staring, looking so unsure.

“You can take it up to your room if you really want, I won’t tattle” you say, and he twists his mouth. “Honestly, though? I hate to watch you guys lose, but sometimes these nights are some of the best. You should stick around.”

He pulls a piece of pepperoni pizza from the box and sets it on the plate. Then he takes a seat at one of the kitchen island barstools. You hope he doesn’t hear your sigh of relief.

An hour later, the kitchen, dining room, and back deck are full of people, and they’re all complaining about the game. Charles and Carlos are at the table, no longer angry with each other, instead complaining about a defenseman on the other team. Lando’s draped over Alex’s shoulder, loudly fake crying over god knows what. Oscar’s on Alex’s other side, laughing loudly at Lando’s dramatics.

You’re pouring drinks for the three of them- you’d offered when you noticed the empty cups. It’s not a party, but the alcohol helps numb the bitter feeling of a bad game. Max is standing nearby, looking proud. He elbows you.

“Pizza theory,” he says, raising his eyebrows.

You laugh. “Yeah, Max. Another one for the pizza theory.”

He’s had this running… experiment, of sorts, for a couple years now. It started after a string of bad games your freshman year, his sophomore year. He’d pointed out that when the team had pizza together after a loss, the next game was always a win. So he’d begun trying things out and writing down the results- you’ve seen the Google document, now co-organized by Charles. Pizza leads to wins almost 95% of the time. Chinese sits at a healthy 70%. They tried Subway one time and all got so sick off of it they nearly had to cancel the next game, so they never tried again.

You’ve told him before that you don’t think it’s really about the pizza- it’s about the time spent together, and the space to be just teammates again. It’s not like they’re apologizing or talking strategy, but put a bunch of greasy food in front of them and they’ll start to unwind. Mend bridges. Build new ones, even, you think, as you watch Oscar and Alex chat, heads leaned close together.

They win the next game by one point. It’s an away game, but you watch it from your apartment with Lily and a couple other friends, grinning the whole way through. You have pizza in honor of Max’s theory. Charles nearly tackles Oscar onto the ice when he scores. When the camera zooms in on the smiles on both of their faces, your heart melts. Lando howls like a wolf at the end of the game, which is simultaneously endearing and cringe inducing. When they get back to the hotel, he FaceTimes you from the elevator. It’s full of hockey boys with big grins on their faces. Max, hair still dripping wet from the shower, his arm slung around Lando, is smiling brightest of them all.

“Pizza theory!” he yells, and you can’t fight a grin in return.

“Pizza theory indeed,” you reply.

Oscar’s head pops up on the screen. You can only see his eyes and forehead, and he seems to know, because he wiggles his brows. It makes you laugh.

“What’s pizza theory?” He asks.

“You have much to learn, young grasshopper,” Lando quips.

“We’ll show you the Google doc later,” Charles promises. “Right now, we are going to the pool.”

…..

Oscar doesn’t join in the game afterparties for weeks. You don’t take it personally, but you do wonder why he doesn’t want to celebrate with his team. You even ask Lando to make sure he knows he’s invited. Your friend just looks at you like you’re crazy, which you suppose you are.

In the end, the party he does show up at isn’t even one after a game. It’s a bye week, and Seb gives them Saturday night off of practice, so they throw what starts out as a hangout and quickly morphs into a full on party. There are people spilling out into the lawn. Lando’s in charge of the music and taking it very seriously. And Oscar is in the kitchen, chatting with Alex over their red plastic cups. It’s an odd sight, but a welcome one. You’re trying not to stare.

Instead, you’re standing nearby, listening to Charles and Carlos argue. It’s over something stupid, you’re pretty sure- it almost always is. Max is standing next to you, hiding his amusement behind his own plastic cup. The three of them have a weird dynamic. Charles and Carlos have known each other for a while- they played together on a team before they started college. Max and Charles go farther back, though. They’re childhood rivals turned captain and alternate captain. They’re all oddly competitive over who likes who more or less. It’s entertaining, to say the least.

You’re really only half listening, using them to take appropriate breaks from watching Oscar. You’d tried to convince yourself you were just keeping an eye on him at first, that you were making sure he was okay and having fun. Now, two drinks deep, you’ve stopped making excuses in your own head. You just like the way he looks in the glow of Lando’s cheesy LED light strips. They’re purple tonight. Oscar’s cheekbones are painted purple because of it. You know there are freckles there, dotting his skin. You wish you were close enough to see them.

Eventually, you leave the guys to their arguing, tear your eyes from Oscar, and start to wander the party. There’s a lot going on, and there are a lot of people in the house that you’ve never met before. That happens, at these sort of events, you’ve found. The unplanned ones end up being an odd mix of people. So when you find yourself leaning against a wall and a guy you don’t recognize comes up to talk to you, you’re not exactly surprised. When he plants his hand next to your head on the wall, though, that does surprise you.

“I hear they call you Bunny,” he says, leering over you.

You hate the way he uses the nickname, the way it sounds on his lips. He leans close, caging you in. You swallow tightly, trying to peer over his shoulder and spot any one of your friends. It’s no use. He’s tall and broad and blocking your view. You say a silent prayer to whoever might be listening that one of your friends notices your absence.

“My friends do, yeah,” you say, hoping he takes the hint. “Actually, I have to go find-“

He cuts you off when he leans closer. You press yourself back against the wall. You can smell the cheap beer on his breath. Your heart pounds in your chest. Fight or flight or freeze, time to choose.

“Come on, sweetie,” the guy says. “Be a good bunny and-“

Someone’s hand clamps down on his shoulder. That’s all you see before he’s ripped away from you. It’s like you can breathe again, suddenly, relief flashing through your brain like the purple lights in the kitchen. It’s followed quickly by concern, though, when you catch sight of what’s going on.

Oscar has him pinned against the wall, one hand on his shoulder, his other fist cocked back, elbow bent, ready to throw a punch. There’s fury on his face. You’ve never seen him like this. Oscar doesn’t really fight. Not now, not at his previous team, not before then, either. You know it because Lando mentioned it when talking about how levelheaded he was. Plus, there are no helmets or pads to protect him here. Just him and his apparent anger.

“Mate,” Max says, carefully, appearing almost out of thin air. “Cool down, yeah?”

Oscar grits his teeth and clenches his jaw. You blink widely at the sight in front of you. Max’s eyes flicker to you, to the way you’re huddled against the wall, and understanding washes over his face.

“Piastri,” Max says, which seems to clear a bit of the fog from Oscar's head. The younger teammate turns to look at his captain and falters slightly. “I think you’ve proved your point.”

Oscar takes it for what it is- a thinly veiled command. Fighting on the rink is one thing. Fighting at a party they’re definitely not supposed to be having is another. Once they’re in motion, fights are difficult to stop, even harder to control, really. It'll get out of hand, so, so quickly. Seb would have their heads on a silver platter, and Max is always responsible for the actions of the team- it comes with being captain. He drops his fist and backs away slightly. Max nods.

The guy sneers at you, then Oscar, and then he spits on the floor near your feet. “Dumb bitch-“

In the blink of an eye, he’s pinned back to the wall, this time by Max, both hands on each of his shoulders. He tosses a look over his shoulder at Oscar.

“Get her out of here?” He says, and Oscar nods frantically.

He takes your hand, gentle as ever. You follow along nearly blindly as tears begin to well up in your eyes. Oscar weaves through the crowd, a man on a mission, and heads for the stairs. You dodge a couple who are making out on the top step, and he makes his way to his bedroom. They keep the rooms locked during parties- he punches his code in and ushers you inside. You nearly laugh through your tears when you see number 44, Lewis Hamilton, staring down from the poster on the wall. You wonder if Oscar knows he and Lando have matching ones.

He sits you down on the bed, reaching to turn on the lamp. He moves around the room quickly, and he tosses you a hoodie from his drawer, which you pull over your head gratefully. You hadn’t noticed until then how you had your own arms wrapped around your body, like you were hiding. You shake your hands out, flexing your fingers, trying to get the feeling back in them.

He sighs and reaches for the door. “Okay. You’re okay. Just- I’ll close the door behind me and-“

“Where are you going?” You ask, suddenly feeling panicky. You think it’s clear just from the sound of your voice, too.

“To get Lando,” he says, freezing in place, hand on the doorknob as he looks at you.

You sniffle. “Max will find him. Could you- can you- I don’t want to be alone, really, so-“

“Fuck. Shit. Sorry,” Oscar says.

Then he does the last thing you’d have expected. He sits down on the bed next to you, close enough to touch, and then wraps an arm around your shoulders. You gasp at the feeling, but lean into it, feeling a bit of relief running down your spine. His hand covers your whole shoulder.

“Is this okay?” He whispers, and you nod. “Okay. Sorry. I didn’t really think about it.”

“It’s okay,” you answer, unsure what he’s even apologizing for- almost leaving or touching you. Either way, it’s fine.

The two of you sit there in the relative quiet for a minute or two. Downstairs, the music is loud as ever. Oscar’s hand is heavy on your shoulder, and you’re still a bit stuck in fight or flight mode. Maybe you’re just frozen, really. You can still smell the beer on the other guy’s breath, can still see the anger on Oscar’s face, can still feel the panic when he was about to leave you. Your chest is tight, fingertips still buzzing.

“Were you actually going to punch him?” You ask, breaking the silence in the room, trying to find something to distract yourself.

Oscar huffs. “The first time, probably not. But when he called you a…” he shrugs. “If Max hadn’t been there…”

You turn to look at him. “Why?”

He blinks, almost taken aback that you’d even ask. “You know. Take care of the team and all.”

You sniffle. “But I’m not on the team.”

“Might as well be, all the time you spend here.”

“Yeah, but…” you trail off. “You don’t… you don’t care about me. You- why would you get into a fight for me?”

He’s quiet for a moment. You’re waiting for the canned answer. Because nobody else was around. Because I knew it’d earn me brownie points with the rest of the team. Because-

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “For making you feel like I didn’t care.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. His hand squeezes your shoulder. Your heart squeezes in your chest. You hadn’t meant for this to go this direction, and now your face is hot and your throat hurts and there are tears welling up behind your closed eyelids.

“I just… I showed up here, and everyone already has their friend groups and buddies and-“ he huffs again, and realization starts to dawn on you. “And they all love you, and they’re super protective of you. And I’ve been so busy trying to find my place here and not step on any toes, I guess I forgot to try and make friends, too, you know?”

You sigh. “I don’t bite, you know. I’m very easy to be friends with. I can be low maintenance if that’s what you need. Or- what’s Lando call it? Low frequency?”

Oscar laughs. “I know.”

You turn to look up at him, and your breath hitches when he reaches up and wipes a couple tears from your cheeks. An hour ago, you thought he couldn’t care less about you. Now you’re sitting in his room, and he’s wiping away tears with a tender touch that makes your stomach ache. His eyes trace your face, like he’s looking for injury, for a source of the pain. It’s overwhelming.

“Okay. So stop ignoring me in class? And in general?” You say, trying to redirect things.

He groans, dropping his chin to his chest. “That was- it wasn’t even on purpose, I just didn’t notice and then when I did it felt too late to say anything, so-“

You break off into a fit of giggles. He drops his arm from around your shoulder, and you miss the warmth immediately. You try not to let it show as he drags his hands over his face and echoes your laughter with his own. When you lean against his shoulder, your side pressed to his, he stays steady and lets you do it.

“It’s okay,” you say, nudging him with your elbow. “Fresh start, yeah?”

He nods. You stick your hand out to him. He laughs and wraps his own around yours, shaking firmly.

“Awesome. Because I have a feeling you’re smart,” you say. “And I’m seriously going to fail our physics class unless you help me.”

Oscar laughs, and the way it takes over his whole body makes you smile. His head bumps against yours, but you can’t even find it in you to mind. It’s enough that he’s laughing around you.

“Okay, but you have to help me, too,” he says, hand still wrapped with yours, and he squeezes it. “I wanna fit in here. I mean, I’m not even from this continent, you know. So trying to find my place has been…”

Your heart aches for him. Suddenly it all makes sense. You know the feeling of being an outsider all too well. So you smile and nod and shake his hand again. “Deal.”

Lando comes and finds the two of you only a few minutes later. He knocks on the door, and Oscar opens it just a crack before he lets his teammate in. He leaves the two of you with a quick nod, seeming to understand that his job here is done. Lando takes you back to his room a few minutes later, his arm around your waist and his head knocking against yours. You pass Max in the hallway, who exchanges a look with Lando and reaches out to squeeze your arm. You’re sure he’ll interrogate you tomorrow to make sure you’re feeling okay.

Lando doesn’t even question the fact that Oscar was the one to take care of you- you suppose to him, it just makes sense. Teammates looking out for teammates, or in this case, their teammate’s friend. He just checks in on you, cleans up the last few tears from your face, and then suggests you stay the night. You don’t exactly want to go back downstairs and through the party, so you agree. You change into a pair of his shorts and a t-shirt, though you keep Oscar’s sweatshirt and put it back on, too. Lando gives you the bed and pulls out the air mattress that he keeps on hand for this, and the two of you fall asleep to the sound of the bass shaking the walls of the house.

…..

The family dinner the next day is loosely breakfast themed. The guys are all dead in the morning, so you take it upon yourself to go do the shopping. And for that, you drag along your trusty assistant, Logan Sargeant. He’s one of few people on the team with his driver’s license, since so many of them are international students and never bothered getting one, and he has a car. Besides that, he’s a rookie, and he’s contractually obligated -meaning Max has politely asked him- to help you whenever you ask. He picks you up in his tiny Toyota, and then you’re off to the grocery store.

He carries the list while you stroll the aisles. “I’ve never heard of literally half the stuff on this list,” he says.

You roll your eyes. “That’s because you’re uncultured.”

You reach up on one of the shelves, snagging a jar with a yellow lid and label. He checks it off the list, brow furrowed.

“I thought this was breakfast for dinner night,” he adds, scrunching his nose up.

You turn to him, giving him an exasperated sigh. “It is. There’s just… a secondary theme. Don’t worry, my American boy, you’ll get your omelette.”

“Omelettes are French!” He cries out, huffing as you start to walk down the aisle, away from him. “The word is literally French!”

“Whatever you say, Miami,” you tease. “What’s next on the list?”

You buy Logan a coffee from a local place on your way back as a thank you for his help. In return, he tells you he forgives you for your comments about him being American. When you pull up to the house, you can see Lando and Charles in the living room. They come outside quickly, ready to help carry the bags in.

You head for the kitchen, one very specific bag in hand. When you walk in, you find Oscar, perched on a barstool, head pressed against his fist as his elbow rests on the counter. Max is on the phone in the dining area, chatting away loudly in another language. You can tell Oscar has a headache, just from the look on his face.

“You’re just the guy I was looking for,” you say, brightly but not too loud.

He blinks a couple times, then points at himself. “I’m an awful cook, if that’s what you’re implying.

You laugh and shake your head. “No, no- not that. But it’s breakfast night, right? So-“ you pull a jar of Vegemite out of the bag and set it down on the counter. “I got this. And then I went a little crazy in the international aisle of the grocery store. Oh, and I got sprinkles? The internet said something about fairy bread and I’m intrigued-“

You pause when he reaches for the jar, and his fingers brush yours. When you look up, there’s a look on his face you don’t quite recognize. It’s almost unbearably soft. You pull your hand out from under his so he can take the jar.

“You got Australian snacks,” he says, so quietly and almost reverently. “You…”

You shrug. “We talked about finding your place. One of the best ways I’ve found to do that is to tell people a little bit about yourself. It doesn’t have to be deep, could just be…”

He leans up and peeks in the bag, and his eyes go wide as he gasps, “TimTams!”

You laugh. “Yeah, could just be TimTams.”

He grins up at you, big and wide and so, so endeared. It’s a whole different side of him. You feel unbelievably proud of yourself for the idea.

Lando comes into the kitchen, hands full of bags. “Yeah, thanks, guys, we don’t need help.”

Charles is right behind him. “It’s fine, actually- hey, you bought Oscar cookies?”

Oscar hugs the package to his chest, suddenly possessive. You laugh and reach into one of the bags Lando is holding. In your hand is another package of TimTams.

“I got two of everything,” you tell Oscar. “To share and to keep.”

He smiles again, and lets the TimTams fall from his chest. “You all have to try one.”

Max gets off the phone and helps unpack things, setting out the stuff he’ll need for dinner tonight. You watch on with a fond smile as Oscar introduces all the snacks to anyone who’s willing to listen. Lando, Logan, and Charles sit with rapt attention as Oscar tells them childhood stories about all the snacks. Meanwhile, Max starts making pancake batter, and you start prepping the other ingredients.

Max elbows you lightly as the other guys laugh together. “You did good.”

You smile at him, shrugging. “We had a nice talk last night.”

Max cocks his head, smiling softly. “Before or after he tried to punch a guy out for you?”

Your face heats up at the comment, and you look away from Max and back to the food in front of you. “Last I remember, you had that guy pinned to the wall.”

Max makes a noncommittal noise. “I should’ve let Oscar punch him.”

You want to argue. To tell him that you’re not worth the trouble of that, and that he was right to tell Oscar to back off and send both of you away. But when you look up at him, the look on his face is a mixture of concern and determination. You blink, and he nudges his shoulder against yours.

“He deserved to be punched,” Max says, and you shrug. “And if you ever see him again, you call one of us. And maybe at the next party, you-“

“I’m fine,” you insist, picking up a plate and heading for the dining table. “Promise.”

More and more teammates file in, and now Lando’s the one forcing them to try TimTams, and encouraging Oscar to tell a story about being 5 and eating them in a pool, or something along those lines. You listen, even with your back turned, and hope that this helps Oscar feel a little bit more at home.

Later, after dinner, while everyone else is cleaning up, Oscar finds you in the living room. He holds out a plate. On top of it, laid out perfectly and carefully, are three TimTams.

“You didn’t try any earlier,” he says. He shifts on his feet when you take the plate. “I wanted to say thank you. Again.”

You smile up at him, laying your book on your chest. “Not a problem, Piastri. It was the least I could do, after you helped me last night.”

He frowns slightly, nose wrinkling up in mild disgust. “You know you don’t owe me for that, right?”

You nod as you pick up a TimTam off the plate. “But I can still say thank you. So. Thank you, again.”

He nods, and his face goes soft when you take a bite of the cookie and look up at him. It’s like he’s waiting with bated breath, desperate to know if you like them or not. You break out into a wide grin at the taste and nod eagerly up at him.

“Yeah, okay,” you say, eyeing the cookies on the plate. “I get the obsession.”

He laughs, nodding in agreement. One of your arms is resting on the back of the couch, and as if on reflex, he brushes his hand against yours. His skin is warm and soft. Your breath catches in your chest.

He backs away to disappear upstairs, then, with a soft “Goodnight,” that you echo, but not before you catch the tinge of red on his cheeks.

…..

In physics class on Monday, you watch Oscar waver in the doorway. He takes a stilted step towards the seat he normally sits in, across the lecture hall, and then he stops. You blink in confusion, taking a sip of coffee from your travel mug. He seems to take a breath, and then he turns- you pretend you’re not watching as he walks towards you instead. You pretend your heart isn’t racing as he walks up next to you. It shouldn’t be racing. Why is your heart racing?

“Is this seat taken?” He asks, politely, quietly, like it’s the first day of class.

You bite back a laugh when you look up at him, because his cheeks are red and he looks so, so proud of himself. “It’s open,” you say, smiling up at him.

He nods, sets his bag down on the desk, and then collapses into the chair next to you. He stares at your travel mug enviously as he slips his laptop from his bag, and you do laugh at that, at the tight furrow in his brow, at the pout on his lips. He glares at you, then, and then it all dissolves into a yawn. Something about it makes your chest ache- maybe it’s the way he pulls his hands into his hoodie sleeves. He looks like he could curl up right there and fall asleep.

“Early practice?” You ask, smiling sympathetically.

“So early,” he says, rubbing his eyes blearily. “I hate Seb.” Then he frowns, and shakes his head. “No, I don’t. But I do love sleep.”

You laugh and elbow him lightly. “I’ll bring you coffee on Wednesday. As long as you make good on your promise to help me study for this exam.”

His eyes light up, and he elbows you back, smiling brightly. “Easy trade. We’re going to get you an A+.”

You roll your eyes. Before you can respond, the professor calls the class to order, and you both open your laptops. But Oscar’s there, and he’s agreed to help you study, and when you lose your place in the notes halfway through the lecture he helps you get back on track with a sweet smile. It definitely doesn’t make butterflies swirl in your stomach.

Two days later, you walk into the kitchen, paper bag in hand, and you’re greeted with bright smiles and eager hands. Lando grabs for the bag, and Alex isn’t far behind him. Even Max, who’s cooking something on the stovetop, seems to perk up.

“Hey, hey,” you scold, snatching the bag out of their reach. “Not for you.”

Lando furrows his brows. “You’re my best friend, you show up at my house, and you have food that’s not for me?”

You shrug. “It’s for my study group,” you explain, holding the bag high above your head as you walk towards the dining room.

Oscar pops his head through the doorway and smiles at you. He takes the bag from your hand. “Hi. Ready?”

Lando blinks at the two of you in bewilderment. “Um?”

“We’re gonna get an A+ in physics,” Oscar says to Lando, drumming his free hand on the doorframe.

You scoff. “I’m unsure if that’s possible, at this point. But I’m hoping to at least pass.”

You head for the dining table and sit down. Oscar already has all his study materials spread out, so you do the same. When you look up, Lando is having some sort of almost silent conversation with Oscar, talking in hushed tones and facial expressions that do very little to tell you what’s going on. You see Oscar shake his head, then nod, then shake his head again. Max is watching them, too, in amusement. You exchange a glance with the team captain, and he shrugs. His food is burning on the stove- you can smell it. Alex’s far too calm announcement of that fact breaks up whatever was happening between Oscar and Lando.

Oscar turns back to you, brows raised. “Ready?”

Behind him, Max opens the kitchen window and waves smoke out of it.

You nod. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

You unpack Chinese takeout containers and dish out food on plates. Oscar’s teammates wander through occasionally, sticking their heads into the dining areas to say hi and ask how things are going, but for a while, it’s just the two of you. You find that Oscar’s a great study partner. He’s kind when you ask questions, willing to explain things in a way that you understand. And, when you get bored, you have him to look at. The serious look on his face, the little furrow in his brow, the soft curve of his lips when you answer a question correctly. He’s nice to look at, that’s all.

You walk home later that night feeling better about your odds on the physics exam, and better about the whole situation with Oscar. You think you might finally be winning him over. Halfway to your apartment, you pause on the sidewalk, overlooking the campus park. It would be shorter to just cut through the park. Take the more direct route. You study it for a few moments in the hazy blue post sunset light. Then you turn down the sidewalk and continue on your original route home.

Read Part 3, Losing The Dream!

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amakumos · 3 months

Text

MEET ME IN MONTE CARLO. — jake sim. (teaser)

SYNOPSIS. As a Formula 1 driver, being competitive is just in Ferrari driver Jake Sim's blood. Perhaps Jake cares about winning too much though, because during his conquest for the world title, he loses you. It isn't until 2 years later when you show up at the Monaco Grand Prix with his main rival, Red Bull driver Park Sunghoon, when Jake finds himself determined to not only fight for the championship, but also to fight for you.

GENRE. fluff, angst, exes to enemies (one-sided ish) to lovers

PAIRING. formula 1 driver! jake x fem! reader

WARNINGS. none in the teaser. in the fic, cursing, mentions of car crashes and accidents

ESTIMATED RELEASE DATE. late march, early april

WORD COUNT. 20k ish, teaser is 883 words

AUTHOR'S NOTE. well... this will be my second to last fic for the meantime! i'm excited to drop this one. i've been working on it for quite a while now. here's a formula 1 fic starring our very own jake sim :) i hope you enjoy this little teaser, and the taglist is open so just pop in an ask if you'd like to be tagged when i post this <3

TAGLIST IS OPEN, send in an ask if you’d like to be added!

You were the first person that Jake Sim ever loved. You were there at his first Formula 1 race, you were there at his first race win, and you were there for his first world title win. A series of firsts.

But, Jake Sim has first breakup on the list as well.

He always regrets how things ended between you two – it was messy, it was awful, and it left him crying at 3 in the morning in his apartment.

Jake isn’t certain about many things in his life. But what Jake is 100% certain of, is that the breakup was all his fault.

You had screamed at him, and he knew that he deserved it. You were slowly slipping away from his grasp, and Jake allowed that to happen as he chased another world title so desperately. So desperately to the point that he would end up neglecting you.

Forgotten dates, forgotten anniversaries, and forgotten birthdays. Text messages would be left unread for days when he was in some other unfamiliar city, as you walked to your lectures with a heavy heart and the stream of his race playing in the back of your phone as you waited for a response. You wore red every time he had a race, for Ferrari, for him, even as your relationship was crumbling.

“I’m sorry,” he had choked out. “It is difficult.”

You looked at him with bloodshot eyes and shaking fists. “It is. And you’re chasing your dreams, but… I can’t be with you if it’s like this. The past few months have been like we weren’t even dating in the first place.”

Jake gulps. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“I want to try,” you had said with an exasperated sigh, and Jake knows that you’re tired. He’s going at maximum speed, and you’re left trailing behind him. He’s so far ahead, and you know you’ve lost all hope of catching up. But you say those words anyway. “Please tell me you’ll try.”

Jake doesn’t say a word. Because he knows that he won’t be able to. He wants to say yes, so badly. He wants to hug you, he wants to kiss you, and he wants to commit. Just as he commits to his races, to the championship, to Ferrari.

But he can’t. Not a single word leaves his lips, and his silence is enough of an answer for you. “Oh,” you say, and Jake doesn’t miss the way your voice quivers, and your lower lip trembles. You’re dressed in red, Ferrari’s colour – his colour. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry.” he told you.

“It’s important to you.” you pressed your lips together in a thin line. “I understand.”

You say that, but Jake knows that you don’t. He knows nobody would ever be able to understand choosing to win over choosing someone you love. But Jake is committed to racing. He is committed to win.

Yet, he’s not committed to you. The one who’s been with him through thick and thin, the one who’d catch red-eye flights to find him in some unfamiliar city to watch him win, the one who’d go through hell and back for him if it meant that he’d be happy.

He can’t do the same for you, and he hates that.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, and you simply shook your head. You don’t have anything more to say to him, so you quietly pack your things. “I’m sorry.”

Before you opened the door to leave, you took one last look at Jake. “I hope you figure out whatever’s going on in your life.” You don’t say anything more, and that is the last time Jake Sim ever sees you again.

He doesn’t know what you’re doing either, because you’d deleted your Instagram account, starting a new one where none of his fans could keep up to date with you. The only way he knows how you’re doing is updates from Heeseung's girlfriend Yoona, who goes on trips with you often. He sees his fans constantly wondering if you’re doing well, and Jake finds it funny how he’s got the same exact question.

He drowns himself further in training, in racing, in wanting to become the best after the split. He wins, he wins, and he wins again – and that feeling of euphoria when he stands on the podium never leaves. It fills him with a joy like no other, and it reminds Jake why he does this. He wants to win. He wants to be the best – no, he is the best.

Winning means the world to Jake Sim. Racing is in his blood – he does it to hear the crowds scream his name, he does it to lift that trophy on the top step of the podium, and he does it to feel the overwhelming pride in his chest when he crosses that chequered flag first.

But he’s been so focused on winning, and he’s lost his everything.

His everything is the girl who went to his first race. His everything is the girl who would tire herself by studying during the day, and catching long flights to the cities where he’d race in to support him.

And his everything had left him 2 years ago in his apartment in Monte Carlo, Monaco, with teary eyes and a red dress.

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cutielando · 2 months

Note

social media au request for y/n narrating the grill the grid games and george russell is immediately in love so the rest of the boys spend their whole interviews trying to wingman george and talk about how gentlemanly he is?

also would you ever add logan sargeant to your master list?

social media au

synopsis: the request basically ✨

my masterlist

♡♡♡♡♡

Instagram

liked by f1, georgerussell63 and 194,712 others

yourusername GRILL THE GRID INCOMING ‼️

view all 30,184 comments

landonorris please go easy on me this year

yourusername no❤️

landonorris 🥲

charles_leclerc i’m afraid of participating

yourusername ????? i’m harmless

charles_leclerc and i’m a world champion

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charles_leclerc …yes…

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landonorris 👀

charles_leclerc 👀👀

maxverstappen1 👀👀👀

alex_albon 👀👀👀👀

lilymhe go hard on them!!

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user1 OMG YES FINALLY !!!!

user2 Y/N torturing the grid during this is my favorite thing in the whole world 🤣❤️❤️

user3 DID NOBODY SEE THE COMMENTS?????

user4 our favorite time of the year has finally arrived

user5 ALL HAIL THE QUEEN OF F1

YouTube

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Instagram

liked by lilymhe, alex_albon and 391,482 others

yourusername testing it out for myself

view all 83,195 comments

user1 Y/N AND GEORGE????????

lilymhe 👀👀👀 i feel like i'm watching a live rom-com

yourusername you and me both babe 😅

alex_albon is this what i think it is?

yourusername nothing is what you think it is, like ever

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yourusername but you know i love doing it

landonorris i'm curious to see how things progress🤭

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landonorris ... but we're friends

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landonorris 😟

yourusername 😇

georgerussell63 must be one lucky lad 😉

yourusername he really is. we both are😌

user2 i can't with these two, they're so unserious😂

user3 did we actually convince George to ask Y/N out?

user4 i think we did😅😅

carlossainz55 are you with George?

yourusername i am not at liberty to discuss this at the moment

carlossainz55 oooooh, i understand. my apologies

user6 carlos is such a dad😭😭😭

charles_leclerc did you like the restaurant?

yourusername ...i did, why?

charles_leclerc i recommended it

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georgerussell63 you would do well to shut your mouth, mate🥰

charles_leclerc yourusername nothing else to report

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 901,284 others

georgerussell63 finally grew a pair tagged: yourusername

view all 198,274 comments

yourusername you're cute <3

georgerussell63 you're cuter <3

landonorris you're welcome 😁

georgerussell63 thank you, my good friend lando

landonorris 🥰🥰

charles_leclerc you were hopeless, mate😅

georgerussell63 i wasn't that bad

yourusername george, babe. yes, you were.

georgerussell63 :(

lilymhe i’m so happy for you guys 😭😭 finally

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georgerussell63 were you all waiting for me to ask her out?

carlossainz55 yes

charles_leclerc yes

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alex_albon yes

yourusername yes

georgerussell63 …i really am clueless

user1 WE WON GUYS ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

f1 The couple we have been waiting for ❤️❤️

georgerussell63 admin too?

f1 yup. thought you’d never do it

yourusername 😅😅

francisca.cgomes YYYAAAAAAAYYYY❤️❤️❤️

yourusername ❤️❤️

I really hope you like it !!!! Had very much fun writing it!!

It’s not as long as I would have liked it to be because I barely had time to breathe today but i really hope you like it !! ❤️

As for Logan, I might add him to my masterlist in the upcoming weeks, once I get my shit together and balance out writing with my studies haha

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comments and re-blogs help us grow!

much appreciated!!

JOIN MY TAG LIST HERE

REQUEST HERE

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neidermayers-mindd · 24 days

Text

⚠ CONTENT WARNING — smut. Pure smut. (And some fluff?) p in v, unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy!); fingering, oral (fem receiving), Max Verstappen is a mean asshole in the paddock but a softie out of it (mostly); praise, lots of praise, mentions of alcohol and drinking; badly translated Dutch (sorryyy); reader is AFAB fem identifying. MDNI 18+.

Author's note: Sometimes Max Verstappen does things to me I cannot describe. The idea came to me and I just started writing. Also the reader is part of Scuderia Ferrari because, eheh, forza Ferrari. (Gonna write Leclerc stuff as well soon, watch me.)

All it takes is a win — Max Verstappen (Formula 1) x Scuderia Ferrari!(fem)Reader (SMUT)

Being a Formula 1 driver was anything but easy.

Sure, you had your moments when you'd spend time with the grid filming funny videos for the fans and doing weird challenges — but, once you had to get serious, the workouts and practice snapped you back to reality.

You were now part of Scuderia Ferrari — it's been a few months since you joined, and your teammates, Charles and Carlos, weren't all that bad, cracking jokes and pulling pranks on another like some high schoolers. You felt like home with them, laughing 'til morning when you'd celebrate each Grand Prix, getting drunk and all.

Your biggest issue was, however, your boyfriend.

Relationships in the grid were mostly kept a secret — you didn't need the news to holler with spicy details of the well-known Formula 1 drivers, so much for the reporters keeping an eye on all of you 24/7. If there was anything going on, it stayed within the paddock.

So, apart from Charles and Carlos, who found out against their will, nobody knew you were dating Max Verstappen. The world champion. The best of the best, or whatever made his ego inflate.

One issue you had about your boyfriend was that he'd be too cruel and unforgiving during race week. He didn't mean no harm, but it did hurt when he always expected you to do better, as he was personally involved in your training as a driver. It's like he wasn't pleased with you at all, and, Hell, even Charles told him to take it easy.

"Hey, no," the Monégasque spoke out when Max was halfway through one of his tirades again, "let Y/N be. She's learning throughout." His arms crossed, staring the Dutch down, in spite of his usual relaxed expression.

Carlos joined in, getting a bit concerned about the situation. "You can't be ordering her around like this. Trust me, we all learned in our own ways." This only earned a frustrated huff from Max, walking away from the scene as if nothing had happened in the first place — and you swore you could feel your heart beat through your Nomex underwear and Ferrari race suit.

—

You didn't even register when half of the season went by you — and, soon enough, you were ready to participate in the Austrian Grand Prix.

The race went smoother than expected — you were fully focused, your signature red Ferrari car driving past the others, smoothly operating (ha) the machine as if it was made for you.

The realization dawned onto you as the race ended and you completed your last lap, noticing only two cars past the finish line — the Red Bull cars, which were Max and Checo's.

You came third place.

Exiting the car as soon as you thought of it, you looked around, taking your helmet and balaclava off and feeling the fresh air on your sweaty face, hearing the overjoyed crowd around you.

You didn't even see when Max came and embraced you with all of his might, only noticing the joy in his eyes through his helmet. Checo followed suit, giving you a friendly embrace and congratulating you, to which you replied with the same approach.

You heard the announcer beam through the speakers, feeling pure happiness course through your veins. "And L/N comes third place on the grid, Ferrari makes its way on the podium by the end of the Austrian Grand Prix..."

This is worth celebrating, right?, the small voice in your head asked itself, unsure whether your boyfriend's reaction from earlier was genuine or not.

—

You've long changed out of your race suit and into your usual clothing, waiting in the hotel room for the hours to pass so you'd attend tonight's party; you shook hands and embraced way more people than you probably thought existed in the perimeter of the circuit and the paddock, eventually coming in your hotel room soaked from the habitual champagne bath on the podium — you were sticky, but happy.

After taking a shower, you got to this point, scrolling on your phone and reading the news pages about the race from earlier, smiling to yourself. You couldn't help but sulk when you noticed Max on each photo on-line, wondering if he was truly proud of you, if this even mattered to him.

Then, as if Max read your mind, he texted you, your phone buzzing in your hand.

'Where are you?'

You answered back, your digits tapping away on the screen.

'In my hotel room, why?'

On the other side of the phone, Max was still in the paddock, slightly frowning at your change in mood — you were on the podium, you came third place! Was there something wrong? Did you want to do better?

'Why did you leave all of a sudden?'

You reply immediately, 'The party's only later tonight. There's no point hanging around until then. I'm getting rest.' You knew you were lying — you didn't feel that tired, being used to the schedule and all. You just didn't want to endure another of Max's scoldings.

As if he read through your excuses, he types, 'Ok, I'm coming over.' You sighed at Max's response — sometimes, even outside the circuit, he was way too stubborn.

—

The door to your hotel room opened, as you didn't bother locking it; in comes Max, having, too, stripped of his race suit in exchange for more comfortable clothes, wearing a T-shirt and jeans. His blue eyes don't roam around the room — they look directly at you, in your direction. "What happened?" He asked, still seemingly puzzled by your change in behaviour.

The man sits on your bed, next to you, waiting for an answer; he still didn't bother leaving his race mannerisms where they belonged, still being oh so demanding. You don't bother responding; that is, until his hand finds your jaw and cups it so you can face his direction.

"Speak to me." He speaks out, tone still demanding, and you sigh, giving in to the man who was, although an ass sometimes, your boyfriend. Yours.

"Are you proud of me?" Your voice came out as meek, already expecting the worst answer; you can see Max's eyes slightly widen, taking in the information he needed from that question.

"So that's what it was?" Max spoke no higher than a whisper, his gaze softening. "Do you seriously think I'm not proud of you, schat?¹" And, as you shook your head, he realizes just what you're talking about, your reaction and the way you didn't dare face him.

"No, no, Y/N.." He moves onto the bed so he can hold you, shifting the two of you so your face buried in his chest, strong arms enveloping you in a warm embrace. "No, it's not like that. I am proud of you. I'm proud of every single thing you do, lieverd.²" Your lack of response concerns Max further, and he removes you from his warm embrace, looking into your eyes. "Please believe me."

You couldn't. You speak out, "Then why are you so cruel to me? Why do you keep bossing over everything I do?" His breathing stops for a moment, now knowing your perspective. "No, I don't mean it like that.. I am trying to help, I know how demanding Ferrari can be." His lips come in contact with your cheek, peppering small kisses on your face. "Schat, no— I just want to help, please— 'm sorry."

You feel yourself melt in Max's embrace; however, you couldn't shake any of the things that have happened before. "You're too cruel." You repeat, voice softening until it can't be heard anymore. "I know, I know", the Dutch speaks, palpable regret in his voice. "'m sorry, liefde.³ I'll do better," his words started sounding reassuring, "promise."

"Y/N— I'm especially proud of you for today. You came third place, and this was a tougher race. You did it, I'm so proud, I promise you", the man spoke between kisses, now placed on your jaw and lips. "Promise, I promise."

You went forward to taste his lips more — sweet, soft and a slight tang of victory champagne — and your eyes fluttered shut, Max's hands moving from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you in closer, even closer than imaginable; he sighed in relief, although you might be, a bit, still mad at him for not showing enough support this season.

"Come on," the blonde pulled away, a string of saliva still connecting your lips with his, "let me show you. Let- please, let me show you how proud I am, schat. Please." He looked at you with soft eyes and a slightly parted mouth, slight blush on his cheeks as he fiddled with the waistband of your sweatpants. "Promise, I promise I'm proud. So proud, liefde, I promise you."

You were sure Max didn't drink apart from a few sips of champagne, and you didn't even partake in the celebration other than bathing with the alcohol instead of ingesting it. The decision prompted you to give Max a nod, and he complies, your lips meeting once more, with more hunger, as his hands shimmied your sweatpants down to expose your underwear. He followed suit, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, tugging them down just enough to get to his boxers, hardening member confined under the cotton material.

His kisses trailed on your jaw and neck, lips sucking on the soft flesh enough to make your breath hitch, and he hummed in response, tongue sliding over the soon-forming hickeys to compensate. "So sweet, schat", he spoke against the skin of your neck, making you shiver in his hold, his lips moving further down on your collarbone before nearly yanking the shirt off your body, relishing in the fact that you weren't wearing a bra.

"Your body is so pretty", he sighs out, lazy smile on his face as he seemed like he was talking to himself, making a mental note of how pretty you thought you were. "And so ready for me", he now hummed against your sensitive, hardened nipple as he wrapped his lips around it, giving it a nice, gentle suck; Max loved hearing you whimper like that, a sign that he was doing everything right.

When your hand reached for his cock, palming it through his underwear, Max stopped, his breath hitching in his throat before looking at you, aroused and slightly glad you were considering his pleasure as well; however, now was not the time. "Y/N, it's my turn to make you feel good", he gently told you, taking your hand off his shaft, which you were sure throbbed under your very touch. "We'll.. we'll do me later, yeah? I want to make you feel good." He continues pressing soft kisses on your body, enjoying how you shuddered merely from his lips, and how your hands went in his hair to give it a gentle tug.

Max's hair smelled like shampoo, soft and silky under your touch, as you had two handfuls of the blonde locks in your very hands. He hums in response, nearly bewildered internally at the fact that so little did so much to you, and made sure he'll make you do more than just tug on the strands.

When he got low enough, Max switched positions with you, his large hands setting you on the bed just where he was sitting moments ago — he got on his stomach, pressing his lips against the material of your underwear. The teasing came to a halt when he tugged it down completely, discarding it somewhere, and the sight alone made Max grow harder, his aching cock pressed against the mattress, and he tasked himself just how he'd managed to be together with someone so beautiful. If perfect wasn't the right word to describe a human being, he coined that term just for you, and you only, ever since he laid eyes on you.

"So wet, schat", Max exhaled on your clit, and you sighed out, the hot air from his mouth blowing right against your sensitive spot. Prying your legs open further and holding onto your thighs, Max dove deeper up against your clit, licking long strands with the flat of his tongue and alternating with the tip, then moving upwards to your nub, giving it a gentle suck. He wasn't surprised when you moaned out loud, but rather entranced — one of his hands left your thigh and got to rubbing the bundle of nerves as he lapped hungrily at your clit. "You taste so good, Y/N. So good for me, letting me make you feel this good", he groaned out, getting pleasure just from eating you out, feeling his underwear stain with drips of precum. "Fuck— so sweet, so fucking good f'me, so perfect, Y/N" — if words didn't make you feel anything, now they did, because Max's tone of voice was nearly desperate; not to get himself off, but to make you come on his tongue and face.

Out of instinct, your hips thrusted forward, something you've never done — Max's words have never had this much of an effect on you, not that they didn't — and his eyes widened in silent amazement, looking up at you with a slight chuckle. "Feels good, hm?" He gives you a teasing lick up your clit, looking right in your eyes as he did so, enjoying how flushed your face was and how your eyes closed as soon as his tongue made contact with the sensitive area. "Mhmm.. Max, please, I want to come," you pleaded, and he complied.

"Anything for my champion. Anything f'you, schatje⁴", Max moaned against your clit, moving down as his tongue penetrated your cunt, feeling how wet you were and how much more wet you can get, the warmth of your insides sending delicious sparks right down to his cock. "Y/N, so fucking good..." He hushed against your entrance, tongue then going in and out at a faster pace while his digits were working on your nub, thumb rubbing in circles until you couldn't take it anymore, screaming out his name and coming on his mouth and tongue.

The Dutch hummed in appreciation of his own skills, then looking up at your fucked out expression with a teasing look, placing one last kiss on your puffy clit despite your whimpers, still oversensitive. When he kissed you, his tongue sliding in your mouth to massage yours, you could feel your taste on his buds, and it made you ache yet more, legs closing in to squeeze your thighs from the overall sensation. Max noticed — he hummed against you, fingers going down to your pussy and then right inside of you, coating them with slick as they pumped in and out.

You broke the kiss through erratic whimpers, feeling overwhelmed by the sensations, but you had to admit that Max's fingers, now curling against your G-spot, felt better than his tongue, reaching so much further inside you — he breathily whispered in your ear, his other hand toying with your nipple, "You like it, hm? Vind je het leuk hoe ik je neuk, schat?⁵", and you let out an almost audible 'yes', hearing him chuckle to himself. "C'mon, Y/N, take it like a champ, huh? Like the champion you are. So pretty, my pretty Y/N."

Before you know it, you came a second time around his fingers, and the Dutch fucked you through another of your orgasms, then taking his fingers out of your hole to lick them clean almost obscenely, making a slight 'mmf' sound when his taste buds made contact with your juices.

"Think you can take me now?" Giving him a nod, he continues, "You deserve me, you deserve my whole cock, huh, liefde?", Max lowly spoke, his voice getting breathier as he takes off his underwear; his cock, aching and as hard as it could get, was leaking small drips of pre-cum, and he sighed at the feeling of not having his obvious arousal confined any longer.

"'m so hard for you, Y/N." He aligned himself to your cunt, taking your legs and placing them on his shoulders. "God, so good, so perfect — all mine, my champion, yeah?" You nod, but that wasn't enough; Max took his cock in his hand again, slapping your clit with it and earning a muffled whine from you. "Say it. Come on, schat." He encourages you.

"I'm... I'm all yours, Max- your champion, I'm your champion", you made the effort to sound self-reassuring, to which Max kissed your forehead, responding with a soothing pitch in his voice.

"You are, Y/N. I'm so proud of you. For everything you have done and for everything that you are, I'm proud of you, yeah?" He peppered you with kisses, slowly entering inside you, and you gasp — getting used to Max was a repetitive mannerism, as he'd stretch you out oh so nicely around his cock. You felt it throb as Max's balls hit right under your cunt, and he kept gasping and whispering in your ear about how much he loves you — and you loved him, too.

As soon as you adjusted to his size, Max started moving his hips, pulling out just enough to leave the tip inside you then slam back inside — no, the domineering, rough side of him didn't remain in the paddock as intended. Soon enough, the bed creaked with both of your bodies' movements alone — the wooden headboard of the hotel bed hitting the wall whenever the Dutch would thrust inside of you, deeper, faster.

"There we go", Max spoke in your ear, sending shivers down your spine, his voice having dropped to a mere, husky whisper — "Vind je dit leuk, mijn liefste?⁶" His hands found your legs, squeezing the fat of your thighs as he kept fucking you, so sweetly but roughly, making sure you'd feel today's win for days after this.

You let out a shaky moan at the mixture of feelings — anger from earlier, dissipating in the overwhelming pleasure and sensitivity, as Max had fucked you raw through the build-up of another orgasm. Looking up at him, his entranced expression, how he looked so ready to let loose and fill you up with his cum, was so arousing, and you couldn't help but reach your hands to cup his jaw, fingers running around the stubble on his face; he gives you a satisfied, self-confident smile, mouth parting exactly when his head falls down, letting out moans of his own.

"Hell, schat, gonna come so deep inside you. Yeah? So proud of you, s'fucking proud, you deserve my cum, all of it, Y/N", Max gasped out, trying to maintain his composure just enough to praise you through it all, to make you feel self-reassured and proud of yourself. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he let out a guttural moan as he pumped hot, sticky cum inside of you, filling you up — you felt yourself come around his cock, squeezing him of what it's worth, milking him until he couldn't come anymore.

His body fell on top of yours — he still had his tee on, and you were bare naked under him, both sweaty and still recovering from each other's highs. "Ik houd van jou⁷, Y/N. I'm proud of you, yeah?" You heard Max, although muffled from his face being buried in the pillow, right next to your head, and you smiled to yourself, one of his hands finding your hair to caress it, and your hands rubbing on his back gently.

"I love you, too, Max." Indeed, your win was worth celebrating.

TRANSLATED DUTCH WORDS/PHRASES

1 — schat = dear/darling, also translates as 'treasure'

2 — lieverd = also darling, word expressing endearment

3 — liefde = love

4 — schatje = baby

5 — "Do you like how I fuck you, dear?"

6 — "Do you like this, my dear?"

7 — "I love you."

#mv1 #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #max verstappen x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 smut #f1 smut #f1 #mv1 smut #mv1 imagine #f1 imagine

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lxndonorris · 3 months

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new season, new suit - Charles Leclerc (SFS24)

Y/N x Charles Leclerc Theme: Smut (you've been warned) Theme: you're attending the ferrari photoshoot, watching Charles pose like the model he is. What happens when he invites you to the changing room? word count: 2080+ taglist: @game-set-canet the second installment of the suit fitting saga 2024.

Your heart buzzes with anticipation as the new Formula 1 season looms on the horizon, and Charles, your boyfriend and a professional racing driver for Scuderia Ferrari, is in the midst of a photoshoot for his team's new gear.

The vibrant red racing suit, tailored to perfection, hugs his athletic frame like a second skin, accentuating every contour and muscle. Throughout the last few years, he has been a part of the Ferrari family, and they always manage to create such beautiful suits for him and his teammate.

You watch Charles and Carlos strike poses, standing right next to each other, as the guy with the huge camera tells them what to do next.

When he invited you to join him for the shoot, you couldn't resist the opportunity to witness him in his element and, obviously, see the new suit on him.

As he strikes pose after pose, his smile contagiuos and his eyes sparkling with excitement, your heart swells with pride. Charles looks so handsome, with the fabric of the suit flowing perfectly across his firm body, accentuating all the right spots.

Anytime he moves, you can't help but admire his physique: his big biceps bulging, his thick thighs, and his strong frame—just perfect. You feel a sudden rush of joy and excitement, knowing that he wants you there by his side.

With each click of the camera, you find yourself falling even more deeply in love with him.

Then Carlos walks away, looking at the pictures through the screen as Charles sits down, ready for another round.

That's when your eyes meet from across the room, and you notice a familiar glint of longing desire burning in his eyes. Charles licks his lips, lifts his chin, and strikes another pose: he runs a hand across his chest firmly, dragging the suit's fabric acoss as his hand reaches his neck.

He takes a deep breath while resting his other hand casually on his thighs, right after he subtly strokes himself some more.

It feels like he is posing just for you, his gaze seeking yours amidst the whirlwind of activity surrounding us.

It's nearly impossible to look away until he focuses on the camera once more. Tension is building up inside your belly and chest, sending several shivers down your spine.

For a moment, you look around. Someone might have watched this, exposing his teasing nature, but nobody reacts—just you.

That's when he strikes another pose, looking for your eyes once again. Sparks are flying when he opens his mouth, posing like a real model would, while his burning gaze pulls you in.

You notice his hands now stroking his chest shortly before a sly smirk creeps on his lips—the same smirk he would give you before kissing you in bed.

Letting out a low sigh, you regain your composure, but the thought of him on top of you, kissing you while encompassing your entire body with his soft hands, gives you goosebumps.

You hear his voice inside your mind—a mere whisper, a soft moan—as he grinds his hips on yours. With his hand around your neck, he keeps on kissing you, pinning you to the bed. His desire presses against your thighs, asking for one special thing.

"That's it for now." The photographer's voice snaps you out of your daydreaming. He captures the last few shots before Charles regains his stance, running his hands one last time across his chest before approaching the computer.

They talk for a little while, while you can't help but sink back into that daydream. Closing your eyes, you try to push these thoughts away, but his low groans echo through every fiber of your body.

"Well, what do you think?" Charles' voice makes you jump slightly, and you open your eyes to find him standing right in front of you, a coy smile forming in the corner of his lips. "How do I look?"

"Stunning." You reply, letting your eyes wander all over him, noticing how firm his body has grown due to the excitement and tension building up throughout the shoot.

With a chuckle, Charles leans in close, his lips brushing against yours in a sweet and tender kiss.

"Carlos, your turn." A voice echoes through the studio as Carlos takes the stage.

Both of you turn to watch him perform, just as well as Charles did before him.

Then, however, Charles leans into you again, his lips inches away from your ear.

"I hope you know how happy I am that you're here today." He breathes against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"Thanks for the invitation." You turn to meet his gaze; his eyes sparkle in mischief.

Both of you turn back to watch Carlos strike another pose, but then Charles whispers into your ear again.

"I always feel so special wearing this gear." His voice is low and rough. "I want to share the first time wearing this suit with you."

You dare not look at him, trying to avoid his gaze, but you're way too hooked not to look at him.

He bites his lower lip, trying to swallow a mischievous smirk, but subconsciously, he strokes his chest again, letting his hand slide down his suit to the faint bulge forming in his trousers.

"You're an idiot." You chuckle quietly, grab his chin with your hand, and push him away playfully.

For a second, you just watch the shoot play out in front of you, but then he turns back to you.

"I can tell Carlos is feeling the same." He chuckles to himself, and you can see his eyes now checking out his teammate.

"How?" You ask carefully, and he just motions for you to watch Carlos.

"Just watch his body move, so deliberately yet so naturally," Charles says, "just the way his muscles bulge—his chest, arms, and thighs. Just like mine." He swallows hard before turning his face back to yours. "Could you tell?"

Breathing deeply, you nod slowly.

"Just so fucking good." Charles smiles, leans in, and kisses you again; this time, it's a much more passionate kiss.

As the photoshoot comes to an end and they talk about the pictures for a while, Charles turns to you with a playful grin, his eyes filled with warmth and affection.

"Care to join me backstage?" He asks, his voice low and husky—an offer you can't refuse.

With a nod, you take his hand, leading him toward the changing room. Luckily, each driver got their own little private area—enough space for the two of you to have some fun.

Inside, the air is filled with the scent of his cologne, wrapping you like a familiar embrace as he pulls you into him, his hands now tightly on your waist.

Steadying yourself against his strong frame, you take the opportunity to stroke his firm chest. His muscles are already as hard as rocks, and his clothes are barely able to contain his form.

With a gentle touch, you run your hands over the fabric of the suit, marveling at its sleek texture against your fingertips. It was like silk beneath your touch—smooth and luxurious.

As you explore the contours of his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles, Charles lets out a soft sigh, his eyes locking with yours in a silent exchange of desire. His hands run along your waistline to your arse, and you can't help but feel a surge of excitement coursing through your veins.

Carefully, you unbutton the collar of his suit, exposing the zipper. You exchange a knowing look, and he lets you pull the zipper down, revealing the tight red fireproofs he is wearing underneath.

With a little help, his upper body slips out of his clothes, the sleeves now hanging down his waist.

His undergarments are even tighter, just like a second skin that drags across his muscles, his nipples, and down his thick biceps and shoulders.

With a playful grin, Charles flexes his muscles, the fabric of the fireproofs stretching taut against his athletic frame. Every ripple and bulge is accentuated, showcasing his physique in all its glory—a sight to behold—and you can't tear your eyes away from him.

"Like what you see?" he teases, his voice so rough.

"Absoluetly," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Because I need this so much." Charles leans into you, kissing you. His body presses against yours, and right away, his hips grind against yours.

Together, you make your way through the room until you come to a standstill. You're standing with your back against a wall, Charles' lips tightly on yours, while one hand is around your neck, stroking you gently.

In response, you stroke his chest again and again, causing him to purr happily right in your mouth. The faint scent of his cologne grows stronger, swirling all around you as he runs a hand across your chest, your boobs, and right between your legs.

"Charles." You tilt your head, letting out a low grunt.

"I'm so hard right now," he replies, letting out a guttural groan from deep down his throat. His burning desire is rubbing against your thighs. So good.

"Let me handle that." You smirk, and in one swift motion, you turn him around, pressing his back against the concrete wall.

A devious smirk tugs at his lips, knowing very well what you're offering.

Placing a hand at his neck, you trace his firm jawline with your fingertips, enjoying how his very light stubble tickles your skin.

You kiss him once, twice, again, and again, right on his lips, before you make your way down his chest.

"You're so handsome." Running your thumb along his soft, wet lips, you look into his eyes, causing him to take another deep breath. At the same time, you rub his member with the palm of your hand, as you know he enjoys that so much.

"You're gorgeous." He murmurs, his eyes wandering all over your face—from your lips to your cheeks and back to your eyes.

You let your hands run down his neck to his chest, firmly feeling his muscles through the fireproofs. You pinch his nipples—one of his sensitizing spots—causing him to swallow a long moan.

"That feels good." He breathes deeply.

Before you go any further, you pull his shirt up, exposing his beautiful, bare chest. At first, you trace his tangible abs with your index finger before you place longing kisses all over his skin.

Looking up, you catch him watching you closely. Charles licks his lips and strokes his own chest as you get on your knees.

With a little help from him, you manage to pull his suit down enough for him to present his length bulging through his undergarments.

"You're a big boy." You tease him by tracing the outlines of his member, causing him to smirk again.

"I've been hoping we would do that." He shakes his head, exhausted yet excited. "I couldn't think of anything else." His accent comes through slightly, making you smile.

By biting your lip at the sight of him struggling to keep a straight face, you won't edge him on any longer.

You pull his length out of his suit—it towers in front of you—and you take him in your mouth—a sensational, familiar feeling. His delicious taste spreads across your tongue while he takes several deep breaths, trying not to make too much noise.

As you move your mouth rhythmically, you watch his body follow your lead. All of him is longing for a much-needed release, and you're about to give it to him.

Charles strokes himself firmly, even leaning his head back against the wall.

"So good." He runs a hand through your hair, stroking you and holding you in place at the same time.

"Mhmm." You moan, enjoying his taste all over your mouth. Your body shakes, and you steady yourself against his thighs, much to his amusement.

"I'm so close." He growls, blinking a few times, before he can't help but release himself—fucking good.

You let go of him and separate yourself, watching him stroke his member before tugging it back into his underwear.

"You're a fucking goddess." He chuckles, reaching for your hand and pulling you into another loving kiss.

"Thanks for today." You say, stroking his chest gently while staring into his beautiful eyes.

"I need to thank you." Charles smiles, and you hug each other tightly.

Together, you get changed before you return to the others already waiting for you.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x y/n #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #Formula 1 smut #f1 smut #sfs24 #suit fitting saga 2024

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vivwritesfics · 3 months

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I'm Having Your Baby

It's None Of Your Business

It was supposed to just be a one night stand. It wasn't supposed to be anything more. But three positive pregnancy tests later and she realises she's fucked.

(I actually don't like Harry Styles)

Warnings: smut, mention of abortion

The bass was thumping, the music blasting and the lights flying in the club. She was letting loose, shaking her hips in time to the music. She was the envy of everybody in the club.

He was across the dance floor, sat in one of the booths lining the wall. In his hands was a jack and coke, the ice in his glass almost completely melted. Although he was on the other side of the club, he could still see her. Actually, he couldn't tear his eyes away.

Something about her drew him closer. He wove his way through the crowds of people until he was standing in front of her, hands of her gyrating hips. Wordlessly she wrapped her arms around his neck and moved her body along with his.

He knew he had to have her. Carlos kissed her that night. He pulled her close as he pressed his lips to her. Before long his tongue was down her throat and they had forgotten about dancing.

She ended up at his place that night. He laid her down in his bed and stripped off her clothes. She shivered in the cool air of his bedroom, but it wasn't long before his warm, naked body was on top of hers, thrusting into her, bring wave after wave of pleasure.

He rolled his hips against her, setting his pace according to his moan. He was completely focused on bringing her pleasure again and again.

Nobody had ever fucked her like that before. No single man had ever made her cum that many times.

But still, she was out of his bed, out of his house before he woke up, never to see him again.

The pregnancy test was taken three and a half weeks later. At 25 days she realised she had missed her period. It wasn't worrying until she remembered her counter in the club.

But she never expected it to come up positive. It must have been a fluke she realised. There was no way she was actually pregnant. Not after a single occurrence of unprotected sex.

But then she took another test. And then another. They all came up positive. Fuck, she really was pregnant. And she didn't even know the name of the father.

Actually, it was pretty easy to find out the name of the father. Her little brother was into Formula One, and she recognised him the moment he walked onto the screen.

She hadn't told her family of her pregnancy yet, and she wouldn't, not until she absolutely had to. She hid her pregnancy tests in her apartment and headed off to spend time with them.

It was a Sunday, so of course her brother was watching Formula One while her mother prepared Sunday night dinner. She was sat behind her brother, sipping lemonade as the driver's on the screen were interviewed.

The camera slowly panned across the Ferrari garage. Her glass dropped out of her hand, shattering on the floor. "What the hell?" Her brother shrieked as he stood up, avoiding the smashed glass.

"Who is that?" She asked as she pointed to the number 55 driver. He looked just as he did all those weeks ago, somehow better in his black fireproofs and red overalls.

Her brother gave her a frown. "That? That's Carlos Sainz, but why do you care?"

But she had already disappeared into the bathroom to throw up until she was dry heaving. Her baby daddy was Carlos Sainz, the world famous Ferrari driver.

It took her a moment to calm down. When she did, she opened her Instagram and went to his account. She scrolled through his account, as if to make sure it was definitely him. But it was undeniable.

It was a gamble going into his messages. But she had to do something to get his attention, had to let him know what was going on. If he didn't see it then so be it, she didn't need him to raise their baby.

Hi, you might not remember me but we hooked up a month ago. We met in the club and I was wearing a red dress with converse. Well, I'm pregnant.

She sent the message and walked out of the bathroom. The glass had been cleaned up from the living room floor and her family were already sat around the dinner table, the race on in the background. Her legs shook as she joined them.

"Is everything okay, dear?" Her mother asked and she nodded her head. She'd tell them, but not today.

Three days later Carlos Sainz messaged her on Instagram. She couldn't quite believe it when she woke up to that notification.

I remember

That was all he said. It was disappointing, actually. Where did she go from here?

Carlos Sainz said nothing more to her, not until a few months later. She got on with her life while their child grew inside of her, and he got on with his.

Or she assumed he did, at least. Actually, Carlos hadn't stopped thinking about it. It was distracting him from racing and training, and stopping him from eating and drinking.

He remembered her from the club, remembered fucking her. Remembered the way his cock slipped through her velvety folds.

It was one night, it couldn't have been his, right?

After four months of needless stress, Carlos finally messaged her again.

I'm sorry to do this but I need you to prove it to me

No, it was fair enough. She grabbed her pregnancy tests, stood in front of her mirror with her bump exposed. That was the picture she sent to Carlos. That was the picture that made him realise that he really was going to be a father.

Fuck. A new wave of stress rolled through him. What was he supposed to do now?

Are you keeping it?

Yes, she texted back. Yes, I'm keeping it

That wasn't the answer that Carlos wanted to see. He was going to be a father and he really didn't want to.

I want nothing to do with it

She sucked in a breath. Fine, she didn't need him. They didn't need him. But still she accepted Carlos' request on Instagram.

Something in her still wanted his attention. As soon as she could, and for as little money as possible, she booked tickets to the next grand prix.

It was hot, swelteringly so. She was dressed in a tight fitting shirt and shorts that showed off her bump. Her parents paid for paddock passes and she spent as long as she could walking in front of the Ferrari garage.

Carlos noticed her, but not right away. It was a minute before he regnised her. But then he was Marching over to her. "What're you doing here?" He hissed as he pulled her away from prying eyes.

She swallowed thickly. "I..." but she had nothing prepared to say to him, no excuse. She'd hoped him just seeing her bump would change his mind.

But it remained unchanged.

"I'm here with my girlfriend. You can't be here," he said. He hadn’t looked at her bump, not yet. "Get out of here," he hissed.

But she stepped up to him. "I'm having your baby, Carlos."

"It's none of my business." He turned on his heel and walked away.

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disneyprincemuke · 6 months

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» disneyprincemuke's f1 masterlist

series

vettel reincarnate * female!driver -> after retiring from formula 1 at the end of the 2022 season, f1 legend sebastian vettel realised a while after the announcement that he would miss the paddock way too much. instead of taking back his announcement, he pairs up with an up-and-coming driver and gets her a seat in a race car in formula 1.

in another life * female!driver x logan sargeant -> "if not in this universe, do you think we're at least together in another?" "there has to be at least one where we're happy."

it's nice to have a friend * logan sargeant x platonic fem!driver -> it's never fun feeling like an outsider, so you'd sworn that nobody would ever feel the way you did all those years ago

i'm giving up your ghost * multiple drivers -> i’d live in these stories forever if it means being with you

fast times and fast nights * f1 grid as wags -> what do you expect when you put the grid and their partners on a reality show?

i said "i love you" * valentine's day special -> different reactions to the phrase

max verstappen

midnights -> a compilation of lonely midnights shared between you and max following your breakup

5 times -> there are five times max almost caught himself saying he loves you, and then there’s the time that he finally let you know

3 times -> you've had a crush on the racing prodigy for as long as you've known him - you had your own troubles biting back on words too.

glitter -> it’s the morning after a party, and you find yourself tangled up in bed with your boyfriend

the other woman -> everything falls into place in your mind when max fails to show up for you at the one event you desperately wanted him to be at

charles leclerc

i quit drinking -> you were never one to turn down alcohol. when you do, it causes a ruckus among your friends.

to forget you -> you avoided alcohol to forget the likes of charles, but he coped by drowning himself in the very same thing that reminded him of you

you called -> you called, so he came.

dancing with your ghost -> the ghost of your relationship lingers in your old apartment, reminding you of what's lost

george russell

sex -> it was supposed to be just sex

be mine -> your last night together ended on a bad note, and now you’re back after months to explain yourself

alex albon

love like this -> alex may be the reason your parents are separating, but he proves to you that soulmates still exist

get this right -> the thought of proposing to you is one that always comes easy to alex, but what he hadn’t expected is how difficult it is to execute it

first podiums -> it’s her first win in formula one as a female driver and her boyfriend can’t be any happier for her

logan sargeant

take my hand * prince!logan -> the princess, to inherit the throne after marriage, is having the hardest time trying to find a man to wed. until, a certain duke of somewhere comes riding in to ask for her hand

our spot -> a text from you is the last thing logan expects when he's back home for the holidays especially when it's your first text in almost two years

our spot, 2 -> it’s about two weeks since you last saw logan and you find him sitting all alone in the dark

oscar's girl / logan's girl -> logan never thought he would meet the girl that broke oscar’s heart

where the fun begins * frat!logan (college!mick) -> logan sees you wrapped around another’s arms shortly after you ghost him and he decides to wreak some havoc

to the moon and back * dad!logan -> the misadventures of little luna sargeant

carlos sainz

one of your girls -> you’re just another name in black ink in his long list of girls, and you should know better. so why are you at his apartment in the middle of the night after weeks of radio silence?

oscar piastri

logan's girl -> oscar truly never thought he would ever see the girl that was the cause of his first ever heartbreak

mastermind -> oscar did not expect that he had to share a bed with you during his trip to visit you over his break

mick schumacher

no other shade of blue, but you -> you didn't have a favourite colour up until you met him

where the fun begins * college!mick (frat!logan) -> logan sees you wrapped around another’s arms shortly after you ghost him and he decides to wreak some havoc

invisible string -> unbeknownst to you, there was a force that was pulling you and mick together your entire lives

#sebastian vettel x reader #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x reader #george russell x reader #carlos sainz x reader #oscar piastri x reader #mick schumacher x reader #alex albon x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke masterlist

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idkwhatimdoinghere1655 · 3 months

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Hello lovelyyyyyy!! I hope you’re well and having a lovely spooky season! I saw that you haven’t gotten Lando requests and I find that unacceptable so here goes: lando x driver!reader - a bunch of the drivers end up piling up in someone’s hotel room watching a scary movie. Reader doesn’t want to be a chicken because she knows she’ll get teased, but she’s terrified. Lando notices and tries to comfort her. Maybe covers her eyes during scary bits? Maybe spends the night in her room bc she’s scared to be alone after? Idk go crazy girlie!

Not That Scary - Lando Norris

This was such a dumb idea, but you went along with it. You went along with it since you didn't want to seem like a chicken, even though it now seemed like a very small price to pay in order to get out of this.

As you all piled into Max's hotel room, ready for the scary movie suggested by the smooth operator himself. You hated scary movies just as much as the next normal person, but you couldn't think of a viable excuse to get out of this.

There was plenty of room for all of you as you huddled around the TV, some poor souls having to take spots on the floor, or dragging dining room chairs over and trying to get as comfortable as possible. You were one of the first ones in, and you took your spot on the couch in the corner.

Lando and Carlos nearly got into fisticuffs for the final spot on the couch, that was next to you. "Carlos, you can sit here, Lando can sit there. I don't mind taking the floor," you said, wanting to get the film over with, and the longer they took, the longer you had to wait until you could go to your hotel room and forget about this stupid scary movie.

"No no, I'm a gentleman, ladies first. So Lando, the seat is all yours," Carlos quipped with a mischievous smirk on his face. He knew how to rile Lando up, and this was his one way ticket to starting an argument that he knew he'd somehow win.

"Whatever," Lando mumbled, instantly backing down and flopping down next to you. Carlos chuckled to himself and sat on the floor, his head leaning back on the arm rest beside you. "Can we share the blanket? You're kind of hogging it," Lando said, tugging at the soft, white blanket you had wrapped around your shoulders.

"Fine fine, just make sure it's definitely half and half, yeah?" you said, draping half over him as he shuffled closer to you so that you'd both be warm.

"Sure, I can do that," he smiled, keeping to the rule you had set out for him. "Max, what are we watching?" he asked, itching to get the film started. You, on the other hand, were sat there, nervous out of your mind.

You were hoping they would say a mild-mannered horror film, but Carlos just had to go and ruin the night. "Let's go for it, The Shining," he announced, and there were a lot of approving words as Max found it on the TV.

"Oh shit, here we go," you mumbled, grabbing a pillow to hold onto through the particularly scary moments. You had your arms wrapped around it, ready to squeeze it instead of screaming through the jumpscares and gory bits.

"You alright?" Lando asked, hearing your mumbles. He leant in as not to alert the attention of anyone else, since he didn't want you to be uncomfortable if you said you weren't alright.

"Yeah, yeah, scary movies just aren't really my thing," you smiled, nodding.

"Neither, but you can squeeze my hand if it gets too scary," he chuckled, moving even closer to you so that you were shoulder to shoulder, and the blanket completely covered the two of you so nobody could see if you did in fact want to squeeze his hand.

"Thanks," you said as Max started the movie, and a lull fell over the group. For a short while, you all sat there, silent as the movie was still rather tame. Your knee was bouncing up and down out of nerves, and you were slightly jumping at the smallest loud noise or frame change.

"We can go if you want, you're not enjoying yourself," Lando whispered, placing a tentative hand on your leg to try and stop you from shaking it so much.

"It's OK, I'll settle into it," you dismissed, making no effort to move his hand. Out of habit, his thumb swiped up and down over the skin on your leg. It did offer a small amount of comfort to have his hand there, grounding you.

"Just let me know if you want to go, we can go," he whispered, leaving you to watch the movie. It was nice to know that he'd make an excuse, but there was no way you were tapping out now. You were locked in, and there was no backing off.

"Thanks," you told him, glueing your eyes back to the screen. You were coping, just about. The pillow was being squashed to death, and you were jumping at even the most minor of scares. Lando thankfully knew when the big ones were, since he had watched the movie before.

Without warning, Lando covered your eyes with his hand and all you could hear was Jack trying to break down the bathroom door while Wendy screamed in terror. You flicked your eyes over to him, and smiled.

You mouthed a 'thank you', and he proceeded to mouth back a 'no problem'. Lando took his hand away from your eyes, before swiftly covered you back up again. The sounds alone of whatever was going on on screen was enough for you to take hold of the hand he had on your thigh.

"You're fine, it's not real," he softly chuckled, trying to bring about some sense of solace to you while the movie drew to a close. As the last few scenes played out, you just let yourself lean into him while you held his hand, squeezing every time you got a little scared.

As he looked around, making sure no one was looking at you, he gently planted a kiss on top of your head before resuming the regular position. You felt yourself relax instantly, even if the movie was still scaring the living hell out of you.

It was just nice to have someone to lean on, figuratively and literally as you watched the worst thing you had ever seen on TV. Every time you even slightly gripped his hand, he squeezed back, just to remind you he was there.

You were trying to put on a brave face while everyone else was looking relatively stoic. Well, apart from Charles. He had been hiding under the blanket for at least fifteen minutes, and whacked Max every time he laughed at him.

You didn't want to be subject to any teasing or anything, so you gripped Lando's hand and hoped to god that he wouldn't run around, telling the whole grid how much of a chicken you were being throughout the whole movie.

As the final shot of Jack, frozen to death flashed on the screen, you let out a tiny squeal of terror, and everyone's eyes turned to you briefly, a few of them giggling away to themselves. "Out of all the things that we have seen, that's what gets you?" Carlos laughed, turning his head to look at you.

"It was a shock," you said, glad that Carlos hadn't been able to tell how terrified you had been throughout the entirety of the movie. It wasn't before long that everyone was being hauled out of Max's hotel room.

You would have rather driven 100 laps in Qatar than sat through another minute of that goddamn movie. It felt hot and stuffy in there, and the corridor was like a refrigerator in comparison.

"Hey, you OK?" Lando asked, catching up to you on the walk back to your hotel room.

"Yeah, yeah. That movie is going to keep me up all night," you lightly laughed, not looking forward to the impending nightmares that you knew were going to be plaguing your sleep tonight.

"I can come stay with you if you want, might take the edge off," he offered without a second thought, and you couldn't tell whether he was being actually serious, or taking the cake.

"Really?" you asked, trying to confirm his intentions.

"Yeah, it'd be my pleasure. Maybe we can watch something a little less scary, take our minds off of whatever the hell that was," he chuckled with a sincere smile. If he was completely honest with you, he was scared shitless as well, and he wished he had multiple hands to hold your hand, cover his eyes and yours during the movie.

"I'm in 216, so we'll have to take the elevator or the stairs. But at this point, pretty much everything scares the life out of me, so either is good," you said, starting to walk down the carpeted corridor as people dispersed to their rooms for the night.

"OK, stairs sound a lot better than the elevator right now," he said, causing you to laugh slightly. Lando was clearly just as unsettled as you were, and it would be nice to be scardycats together, as you defended each other from the imaginary monsters that you'd surely be dreaming of.

The pair of you walked down the stairs of the eerily quiet hotel, and there were a couple times you could have sworn you had seen those two creepy little girls standing at the end of the hallway, but you knew it wasn't real.

"We're keeping the lights on," you stated when the two of you walked into the hotel room, and Lando wholeheartedly agreed.

"Absolutely, sounds perfect," he nodded, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He didn't want to just take his shoes off and crawl into your bed, he thought that would be pushing it a bit too far. As if you had read his mind, you hopped in.

"You can get in one one condition," you smirked, eyeing up the mini fridge in the corner of the room. You were also watching the snacks that were on the table top, and you weren't getting back out of the warm confines of your bed now that you were in.

"Already on it," he sighed, picking up the bags of snacks and throwing them to you. "What drink do you want?" he asked, opening the fridge and seeing what you had. You looked at the selection, and just settled on a mango juice.

Lando collected your drinks and tentatively got into bed next to you. "Thanks, do you want to sleep or watch a movie?" you asked, cracking open the mango juice and taking a sip.

"Well, if we sleep, I'll scare the monsters away, I'll protect you," he giggled, nudging you slightly.

"My knight in shining armour," you rolled your eyes, turning the light out and getting comfy. "If I wake you up in the middle of the night, I'm sorry, OK?" you said, closing your eyes and instantly feeling tiredness take over.

"Don't worry about it," he chuckled, also feeling really tired. The two of you fell asleep almost instantly, but it wasn't long before you grew restless.

All you could hear was the sound of Wendy screaming as Jack tried to bust the door down, and you jolted awake, seeing nothing around you but darkness. Sitting bolt upright, you took a couple deep breaths, as you felt stupid for how scared you were of a movie.

Lando felt the sudden shift, and opened his eyes. Through the darkness, he saw the outline of you, sat up straight and he could hear you breathing. "Hey, you OK?" he whispered, and you turned your head to look at him.

"Yeah, yeah, just... a little on edge. It's stupid, really," you shook your head, fidgeting with your fingers as he held his hand out to you.

"Don't make this weird, but c'mere," he mumbled, still very clearly half-asleep as you shuffled closer. As you led down beside you, he wrapped his arms around your waist and tugged you so that your back was flushed to his chest.

"It's not real, yeah? You're safe, I've got you," he quietly rambled as you put your arms on top of his while he held you close. "I won't let anyone hurt you, I'll protect you," he continued to ramble, peppering kisses down your neck as if he had completely forgotten that it was you in his arms.

The gesture was small, yet intimate and calming and it lulled you into a sense of warm comfort. You mentally scolded yourself for not telling him to stop or pushing him away, but you loved how his lips felt against your skin. He kept them light, but you couldn't help but close your eyes as sleep tried to take you away.

"There you go, you're OK," he mumbled, sensing you were falling asleep as your body relaxed against him. "That's it," he muttered against your neck as you lost consciousness, and it wasn't long before he followed suit.

You were relaxed, and there weren't anymore interruptions throughout the night. The pair of you were woken up by a loud wrapping on your hotel room door. "Y/N! Wake up!" As you and Lando woke, still entangled in each other's arms, you both looked at each other in horror at the realization of who was outside.

"What do you want, Carlos?" you groaned, making no effort to move away from Lando as you snuggled further into him.

"Is Lando there? He's not in his room!" he shouted through the door and Lando groaned into your neck. "Can you open the door please?" Carlos continued.

"Yeah, one second," you nodded as Lando tried to pull you back into bed with him.

"Just tell him to piss off," he mumbled, nestling himself back into the covers as he instantly felt cold and unsettled without you beside him.

"I'll be quick," you smiled, leaving him in bed and going to open the door for Carlos. The Spaniard was stood there, arms crossed, a slight smirk painted on his face.

"Is he here?" he asked, trying to look past you and into the room. Your body blocked the view, so he wouldn't be able to see that lump that was Lando under the duvet.

"No, he's probably gone down for breakfast."

"We already checked, he's not there. We've looked everywhere," he told you as he walked straight into the room, peering around. You held your breath as his gaze turned to the bed, but it was empty. It was obvious where he had gone, but you just prayed to god that Carlos wouldn't check the bathroom.

"Sorry to intrude, we just thought that he could be in here," he shook his head, not seeing any signs of Lando in the room. He started to walk back out, before turning and opening the bathroom door, and then the shower curtain.

"Oh hello Lando, didn't think you'd be there," he laughed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. The smirk on Carlos' face was not going to be wiped off any time soon. Lando sat there, cowering in the bath after his poorly thought out idea to hide from Carlos. The effort was commended.

"I guess the moaning and groaning we all heard last night wasn't from the ghosts and ghouls," he winked as Lando turned bright red.

"No, we were both scared from the movie last night, so we kept each other company," you explained as Lando sighed. He didn't want Carlos to know he was scared of the film, but he also didn't want everyone to think you two were sleeping together. Well, not in that way.

"Oh yeah? Calming each other down with the devil's tango? Surely that gets the heart rate going more, no?" he listed, using all of his self-composure not to just laugh in your faces. "You just going to sit in there or are you going to come out, Lando?" Carlos continued.

Without saying anything, Lando pulled himself of the empty bath and stood next to you, eyes flicking between you and Carlos. "Go get dressed, you two. A couple of us are heading down for breakfast. Wait, Y/N, did a vampire bite you? You've got something on your neck," Carlos said, peering at you.

You clapped your hand over the area, thinking Lando had gotten a little carried away and you just hadn't noticed. "Kidding," Carlos laughed, knowing he had gotten the reaction he was looking for from you. "No more bone rattling you two, I'll see you in a bit," he giggled, leaving the two of you in the bathroom in silence.

"I should, you know, I should, uh-" he mumbled, fidgeting with his fingers.

"Yeah, me too," you nodded, walking out of the bathroom. Lando wanted to stay - he didn't want to leave your side just yet. "I'll see you at breakfast, thanks for last night," you smiled as he approached you.

Lando opened his arms out as you hugged him back, not wanting to turn out of his embrace. Just as you went to leave the hug, Lando couldn't help but move his lips down to your neck and softly bite his teeth into the flesh. "Lando!" you exclaimed, racing to the mirror to see what he'd done.

"Wait, Y/N, did a vampire bite you? You've got something on your neck," he chuckled, leaving you gobsmacked as he went to get ready for breakfast.

"For fucks sake," you mumbled, instantly reaching for the foundation to try and cover up the red teeth marks that were printed on your skin. Your heart was racing, but you couldn't tell whether it was the fear of it being seen, or the thrill of it happening.

A/N - Yes, I know it isn't spooky season, but I wrote this aaaaages ago and wanted to post it since I actually really like this one. I have more requests coming in, and I am writing quite a few of them at the minute! Keep them coming, hope you're having a wonderful day, and love you 💖

@chilichilichilipep This one is for you my lovely! Your requests are honestly some of my favourites that I get, and I adore them all, even if it takes a few decades for me to write them 🤠

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