sainztropez

[sainztropez]

hey could u give us something with the reader wearing body glitter and max and reader kinda are lowkey or uk fwb just fucking in secret and he is kinda in love but doesn't wanna ruin it

but then they go to a party and like she is wearing body glitter uk those glitter sprays and he finds her so irresistible and has to uk get a quickie and then when they come back he is covered in glitter and thats how ppl find out

u could also make it Charles's sister or something

[YOU'RE SO GOLDEN!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: max should stay away from you if he knows what's best for him. but he can't help it. you just... sparkle. or in which you forget to rub off the evidence of max's love.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors dni), fluff, fwb/forbidden love themes, max is down bad for the reader, light praise kink, oral sex/eating out, p in v, unprotected sex (protect yourselves pls), cumming inside, mutual orgasms, orgasm denial kinda, poor humour imo, happy ending! // poorly proof-read ♡︎

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: max verstappen x leclerc!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2.8k+

𝐀/𝐍: the ideas you lot have.... chef's kiss truly 💋 hope you like this one as much as i enjoyed writing it. also my first max fic... can you believe it? there's more coming dw! - ngl i kept thinking about edward cullen - "this is the skin of a killer, bella" 🫣

🏎️ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | ⚽️ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Max knew it was a mistake coming here. He should've said no. His partying days had been over for a while now. He spent more time in his room streaming than he did outside. He especially knew it was a mistake because he knew you'd be there.

Charles never went anywhere without you. Wherever he was, you were.

Maybe that's why Max had gone to Lando's party. Because he knew Charles had said yes. Which meant you had said yes.

It was never supposed to happen. It was a one time thing. You were drunk. He was drunk. You didn't remember much of the night. Max had just won his fourth championship in Vegas. And that definitely warranted some partying in Monaco.

There were strobe lights. Martin Garrix was DJing. It was hot and humid. Somehow you had found your lips on Max's. The rest of the night was self-explanatory.

You had woke up the next morning, slightly distraught because Charles would only be first in the line of brothers that would kill you. And while Max peacefully slept in the morning, you took the walk of shame back to your apartment.

The problem was that neither of you could forget the time you spent together. Even though you had drunk one too many that night, you could remember every moment in his bed vividly. Max could still hear your laughs in the emptiness of his apartment. And when he closed his eyes every night before bed, he could see you on top of him.

Max was the one who had suggested the whole thing. Friends with benefits. He said it'd be good for some pleasure for the both of you. Because sex definitely isn't intimate or anything.

But Max was struggling to draw the line. He was feeling things he shouldn't. Concerned when you were sick. Excited for your texts. Small moments reminded him of you when he walked around. You were the first thing he thought about he got in the car and the last when he got out.

More. He craved more than the moments after where you talked for hours before you left. He wanted to wake up to you. He wanted you to pick outfits in front of him and let him pretend which one he liked until you were both back in bed, laughing and moaning.

Fuck. If he knew anything, he was falling in love with you with every passing day.

That's why he should've said no to this party. But, either to his greatest pleasure or his greatest misery, he could never say no to you

That's why Max had made some rules coming here:

No looking at you for more than thirty seconds (because Charles would know instantly).

No touching you. At all. This was non-negotiable.

One conversation. That's all he would allow himself. Because if he talked to you any longer, he wouldn't be able to stop himself.

But those rules seem to fly out the window the instant you had walked in next to Charles. Max could've sworn he was watching it in slow motion.

It was still light out, sun only beginning to set. By the way you and your entourage was dressed, you had clearly been swimming. Your sheer black dress did the bare minimum to cover up your bikini underneath. Even worse was the cut out near your chest, holding the two sides of the dress together with a small metal circle, teasing him.

But that wasn't the worse thing. Nor was it the way your hair fanned across your body, set up as if God had done it himself. Nor was it your signature perfume wafting in the air already.

It was the glitter.

That stupid fucking body glitter.

It sparkled and shimmered on your skin. Your bare legs could make the light dance around you. Your arms held all the command, moving the shine and twinkles with each stride as you walked. And your collarbone – God, your collarbone. Glittering in such a way that he was sure he just wanted to lick you clean.

You were positively glowing in the sunset

You had him hooked. Fixated. And almost on his knees.

Max had already broken rule number one. Fuck the rest.

He tried to wait patiently. Watching you converse with a few people for the first ten minutes. But as you glimmered more from afar, his patience wore thin and his restraint was beginning to break.

Max sent you a text. Plain and Simple. Bathroom. Now.

He didn't wait for you to read it and look at him. Max knew you'd come. Because a bit like him, you also had trouble saying no.

Five minutes. That's how long it took for you to come to the bathroom. He would've argued that was five minutes too long.

You raised a brow, folding your arms, keeping your amusement at bay as Max neared you with a few strides, locking the bathroom door.

"Took you long enough," Max mumbled, leaning back to get a better view of you. His eyes glazed over the specks of glitter rubbed into your skin as he spoke. "What were you doing? Talking their ears off?"

You tilted your head to the side, eyes narrowed playfully. "I was enjoying it. Too bad someone was giving 'fuck me' eyes from across the room. You're basically begging for Charles to find out," you huffed quietly.

"Begging?" Max queried, brows raised in slight surprise. He smirked slowly, hands reaching out to brush over your collarbone, fingers grazing your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps across your shimmering skin. "The only person who's going to be begging is you when I'm done with you. Driving me crazy looking like this," he sighed out.

You shivered at his touch, breath caught at his words. You blinked, cheeks flushing. "It's just body glitter," you murmured quietly, teeth sinking into your lips as you watched him bend down, on his knees while he looked up at you.

"Maybe," Max shrugged, hands creeping up your legs, preventing you from clenching your thighs like you had been the moment you walked in here. "But you look so pretty," he confessed.

Your lips parted. His words sounded far from the Max you knew a couple months ago. This was... soft. Like he couldn't control his brain.

He peered at you, lips and cheek grazing the side of your thigh, edging closer and closer to the heat – fabric of your dress brushing his skin. "Let me taste you," he pleaded. "I need you so bad."

He wasn't lying. The bulge in his jeans was so strained, you almost could've sworn it was painful. You wondered what he had been doing for past five minutes. What he had been thinking about to get this hard.

"Everyone's outside," you reminded quietly, not directly saying no. And by 'everyone' you mainly meant Charles.

"They won't know. The music is too loud. I promise," Max reassured, patiently waiting for your answer, small kisses pressed on the inside of your thigh. His touch was tantalising.

You swallowed thickly, nodding. You only just trust your voice. "Okay," you agreed. "But we have to be quick. Ten minutes tops."

You were in the bathroom for Christ's sake. But any minute longer, Charles might have a search party going. God forbid his little sister was getting a good dicking down. (Max's words, not yours.)

You could feel his grin on the side of your thigh and it made you shudder. Max hummed with satisfaction. "Let's prepare you then."

You held your breath as his hands moved, riding your dress up past your thighs, bunching up at your waist while your black bikini bottoms stared at Max at eye level. He sighed, "Fuck me." The fabric was stuck to your folds, darker where damp.

"So wet," he laughed softly, the sound teasing as he pulled down the fabric, letting it pool your legs. He breathed in, the smell of your arousal only fuelling his hunger. His hands grasped your thighs tighter, spreading them further to watch your slick shine the same way your skin did.

Max gave you no warning like he usually did. He was already so far gone with his desires. He leaned his head in, tongue darting out to take one long stripe of your wet folds, grinning when your body jerked to his touch. "Taste so sweet, schatz," he praised before delving into your pussy.

You could only whimper, your hand clamped over your mouth. His fingers clamped deeper into your thighs, pulling you closer while his tongue darted into every crevice and fold. Your other hand fell to his shoulder, bracing your self and grasping at the way his defined nose knocked at your clit.

Your head fell back to the bathroom door, hips grinding up into his tongue as if it was second nature. Your eyes fluttered shut, breathing stuttering while your chest rose and fell. Fuck, it felt so good

Max could see it faintly through his peripheral. Your arousal covering the sides of your thigh, mixing with your body glitter to create a whole new unique shine that solely comprised of you. He could only grunt against your cunt, the sound reverberating through your body.

The clench of your pussy told Max everything he needed to know.

He parted from your folds, silencing your quiet whines with his wet lips, shining with glitter and arousal as he kissed you. Your hand found the buckle of his pants, quickly prodding to take them off.

Max's body lurched upon the feel of your hand on his cock. "Fucking hell," he cussed into your neck, eyes rolling slightly.

"Five minutes," you rasped in his ear, fingers grazing his tip for leaving his cock hanging from his pants, aching and twitching for more of your touch.

Max swallowed, nodding furiously. His one hand travelled to your thigh, hooking it closer to his body while the other laid flat on the bathroom door, steadying himself. His hips aligned with yours, his pulsing cock teasing your entrance, covered in your arousal.

A reverent guttural moan spilled from his lips as he pushed his hips up into you, cock welcoming the warmth of your pussy, balls flushed against you once he fully bottomed out. "Holy fuck," you barely whispered, his hips beginning to rut against you.

Your glimmering skin stuck against one another while Max brought his lips to yours, consuming all the loud moans threatening to scape with his sloppy kisses. He pushed his cock further into you, feeling his balls slap against you, making the most obscene sounds known to man echo in the bathroom.

He looked down at you, feeling his cock pulse at the fucked out expression that teetered on your face. You could barely breathe with all the air escaping your lungs as the familiar white light edged near you. Max grinned against your lips. "You going to come for me? With all those people outside? You keep warning me about Charles but I think you secretly enjoy this, schatz. You just can't get enough of me."

Your fingers on his shoulder tightened, stomach churning while your jaw fell open. "Fuck!" you gasped, any sounds from your mouth turning silent as stars covered your vision, body convulsing as the waves of your orgasm rolled over you one after another.

"That's it," Max coaxed, hips snapping faster into you. "Did so well for me. Clenching so tightly," he grunted, eyes falling to the cream ring around his cock. Christ.

"Come for me, Max," you encouraged, holding his jaw so he looked back at you. "Fill me up," you breathed, body tightening when you felt his fingers rub your clit. The pleasure was beginning to build up fast.

Max swallowed, unable to look away as he felt your orgasm vibrate around his cock as you clenched around him. A high-pitched stuttered groan fell from his lips, hips stuttering against you.

The both of you moaned as his hot white cum spilled into your walls. Your folds clamped around him, milking every last drop. Your head fell against the bathroom door with an exhausted sigh, chest heaving as he pulled out gently after a few minutes had passed.

"Thank you." You breathed out slowly, giving a small smile as Max pulled your bikini bottoms back up, not missing the way his blown pupils were stuck on the way his cum spilled out of your and onto the wet fabric.

Max cleared his throat, nodding in acknowledgement.

You shuffled down your dress, patting down the material so you looked somewhat presentable. You looked over at the mirror before turning to Max. "I'll leave first," you murmured, barely giving him a glance over as you often did so you didn't overthink. You turned to unlock the door.

Max blinked, failing to ignore the clench of his heart. You were reminding him what you were. Friends with benefits. That's all you were.

The air felt cold on your heated skin. The thrum of chatter and music filled your ears as you weaved through the small crowds of people, finding Charles and Alexandra talking to Lando.

"What I'd miss?" You queried, looping your arm through Alexandra's.

Lando kindly grinned at you. "A trip to Ibiza. If you're down," he shrugged.

Charles nodded. "Lando hired a yacht. Although we should probably ask Max to deal with it since he owns so many," he huffed, head twisting to spot the Dutch driver. "Max!" He flagged down.

Max pressed his lips, avoiding your gaze as he greeted your brother and Lando.

"Where have you been? We were just talking about some– what's that?" Charles paused, brows furrowing as he peered at Max oddly.

"What's what?" Max retorted.

Charles dipped his head, blue eyes examining the last bits of sun on Max's skin. "Is that glitter?" He asked out of sheer curiosity.

Your face fell, growing instantly hot at your brother's words. You could feel Max's body still while Charles followed the way Alexandra and Lando's eyes travelled to you and your glittering skin.

Fuck.

Charles snapped his eyes to Max, brows raised in disbelief. "Max... for the love of God, tell me you're not having..." he breathed in slowly like he was afraid to say it. "...sex with my sister."

Max took a step closer to you, covering you with his body like he was going to protect you. Why on earth would he do that?

You gave Charles a pointed look. "W-We're adults, Charles," you reminded, seemingly confirming it yourself with a shaky breath.

"Merde," Charles cursed, shaking his head. You could see Alexandra squeeze his hand gently, trying to calm and comfort him. You gave her a grateful smile, still a bit terrified of your brother.

Charles kept looking at Max, keeping his position as older brother up before being his friend. "So you're dating then?" He queried as if it was the only obvious answer.

The question felt loud. The silence even louder.

Charles would kill the both of you if he found out were just friends with benefits. But the truth was... it wasn't really like that anymore. There was something more. But neither of you had been brave enough to admit it.

That is... yet.

Max turned to you, blue eyes softening slightly. He grabbed your hand with his. His voice was low and quiet, leaving only you to hear him. "I don't really want to just be 'friends,'" he admitted with a tight scared smile.

You blinked at his admission, taking time to register his words. Finally a soft smile graced your face. You felt impossibly warm and complete. You squeezed his hand. "Neither," you whispered back.

Max tried to tone down his grin as much as he could as he turned to Charles and sucked in a sharp breath. "We're dating," he confirmed.

Lando raised a brow. "You mean as of now. You're dating as of now. How long have you been fucking?"

"Lando!" You hissed, glaring at him, unable to even look at Charles or Max.

Charles breathed in slowly, a barely sane smile on his face. He rubbed his temples gently. "I'm going to ignore that," he mumbled, gesturing to Lando before turning to your now boyfriend. "Well, welcome to the family," he sighed out, grabbing Max's shoulder. He leaned in further, the threat quiet in his ear but visible for all of you to see. "Hurt her and I swear to God you'll crash on track."

Max swallowed thickly. He gave a firm nod. "Duly noted."

"Great!" Charles chirped, leaning back with a feigned smile that only told you that you were in for it when you got home.

Oh Jesus.

You tugged Max closer to you. "I think we should enjoy what freedom we both have left for the day."

Max nodded idly. "Sounds like a good idea."

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[sainztropez]

watch this be the wrong thing ⛐ 𝐎𝐏𝟖𝟏

“say it again,” he murmurs, pressing against you. “say thank you, oscar.” (or: unbeknownst to you, the person you’ve been sexting might just be somebody you know.)

ꔮ starring: oscar piastri x reader. ꔮ word count: 5.7k. ꔮ includes: smut, romance. profanity. pwp-ish, soft dom!oscar, sexting, guided masturbation [f], oral [m], praise & degradation, p in v. title from (and fic inspired by) gracie abrams’ risk. commissioned!!! 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

To cut him some slack, he had been honest from the very beginning.

You joined the app on a Friday. Not a rock-bottom Friday. Not a tipsy one, either. Just—a Friday. Grey sky, lukewarm coffee, inbox full of half-asks and ghostings. The app was called Velour. Marketed as ‘the thinking person’s thirst trap.’ A place for people who allegedly read books before they fucked. Where bios quoted Rilke and still managed to ask what color your panties were.

He had no face, no name. Just ‘O.’

A location that blinked Melbourne like a dare, and five black-and-white photos that managed to say everything and nothing at once. Cropped close. A mouth, a hand, the outline of a shoulder. A pair of thighs in compression shorts that frankly should have been illegal. You’d stared too long at that one. There was no context or caption, only the unspoken promise of ruin.

You told yourself you were there for amusement. For attention you could throw away. You uploaded one photo. Jaw turned, mouth parted, collarbone exposed. Let them wonder. Your bio read: said i wouldn’t do it. look at me now. 

Then you swiped. And swiped. And swiped. Until you found him. 

You hovered on the profile longer than you meant to. He had athlete written all over him—but in the subtle way. The kind that didn’t need to shout. The kind that let the shape of a thigh do the heavy lifting.

You matched in under an hour.

He messaged first. 

O: You look like you'd break hearts for sport.

You: only on weekends.

O: Lucky it’s Friday, then.

The rhythm established itself fast. Snark edged with suggestion. A kind of conversational sparring that hummed beneath your skin. He was quick. Dry. Almost too confident, but not in the overcompensating way. In the way of someone who knew what they looked like when they made you come.

O: What are you wearing?

You: what makes you think I’m wearing anything?

O: God, you’re going to be a problem.

You: that’s the hope.

You asked once, joking, if he was some kind of model. He wrote:

O: Not professionally. But people look.

So, yes. He never lied.

It’s partly on you. You never asked for a face. The not-knowing made it worse. Better. More dangerous. Your imagination filled in the blanks with reckless confidence. His voice, when he finally sent a voice note, was low. Smooth. A little amused, a little deliberate.

“Say please,” he’d said in jest, and you replayed it a couple of times in the dead of the night.

You hadn’t swiped on anyone since. Not once. Not when you were bored. Not even when he took twelve hours to reply and you told yourself you didn’t care. The messages became a fixture. A heartbeat.

You’d catch yourself reading and rereading his replies like they were scripture. One hand between your legs. One word in your mouth. You never told him how far he’d gotten under your skin. He never asked.

You should have known.

Maybe not at first. Not in the beginning, when it was all thigh pictures and veiled threats and that smirking voice note that made your knees go warm. But later. Somewhere between the third and fourth night he sent you a recording at two in the morning, voice dipped low and rough with sleep—or maybe just want.

“Touch yourself,” he had murmured. A rasp. Something peeled open. “Slowly. I want you aching first.”

And you did it. God, you did it. Hand slipping under the waistband of your sleep shorts like muscle memory, breath catching as you recorded something back—a whispered thank you, half a whimper. A photo, too. Of the aftermath. Of what he could reduce you to. 

You’d never been this person before. Not with strangers. Not even with the ones who weren’t strangers. But something about O made it feel less transactional. 

It wasn’t just about the sex. He told you little things in the witching hours, when neither of you could sleep and your phones became lifelines.

O: Had a girl once. Didn’t work out.

You didn’t ask why. You didn’t have to. The way he wrote it told you enough. And more: 

O: Got a place in Melbourne. Not there much.

You: why not?

O: Work. Travel. Same old.

He never said what he did. You didn’t ask. 

There were nights he’d vanish. You’d tell yourself not to care. You’d go to the gym, go to sleep, try to fuck someone else and never follow through. And then he’d reappear with a two-minute audio clip that would leave you soaked and shaking.

You remember one in particular. The voice, deeper than usual. Accent thicker. Like he’d stopped pretending to be anonymous.

“Good girl,” he said after you sent him a recording of your own. Barely a whisper, just the sound of your breathing, your fingers, his name almost slipping out. “That’s it. Bet you’re so fucking wet right now. You always are for me.”

You should have known.

But you were sleep-deprived. Starved. Touch-drunk on someone you’d never seen, never held, and yet felt like you already knew.

Three days later, he asked if you wanted to meet.

O: You still up?

You: always for you.

O: Meet me. Tomorrow night. Your side of the city.

You: you sure you want to break the spell?

O: I want to see you fall apart in person.

You stared at the screen for a long time. Your mouth dry. Your legs already aching. You typed and deleted three different versions of yes before you landed on a simple thumbs up.

He sent a location pin as a reply. 

A restaurant. Not far. Not loud. Expensive enough to say this wasn’t just about sex, but discreet enough for you to wonder what you were getting into. 

You charged your phone. Shaved everything. Told yourself this was just another night. That you wouldn’t be disappointed, wouldn’t be shocked. That he could be some balding tech bro or a failed actor or worse, and you’d still survive it.

But deep down, you knew.

Maybe not the whole truth. You knew, instead, that this would ruin you one way or another. 

On the day of, you see him before he sees you. Or maybe he sees you first and just pretends he doesn’t. Either way, there’s a lag. A beat suspended between knowing and not-knowing. Then he walks over.

Baseball cap. Hoodie. Sunglasses, even though it’s dark inside and no one here gives a shit. Dressed like a man trying very hard not to be looked at, which, of course, makes everyone look twice.

He takes the seat across from you.

You stare.

Not at the mouth, which you’ve imagined. Not at the hands, which you’ve dreamt of. Not even at the jaw, sharp and familiar. No.

The eyes.

That’s what does it.

You exhale. Slow. Controlled. “You’re joking.”

He lifts the menu. “Hi to you too.”

“You’re fucking joking.”

“I’m really not.”

“Oscar Piastri?” you say it low, like a curse. He flinches anyway.

“Technically,” he says, adjusting his cap, “I never told you I wasn’t.”

You scoff. Sharp. Disbelieving. “Oh, fuck off with that.”

“Did I ever give you a fake name?”

“No,” you admit. “Just a letter. Like a Bond villain.”

His mouth twitches. Not quite a smile, but close. “Did I lie about where I live?”

“No.”

“Did I say I wasn’t Australian?”

You fold your arms. “So that’s the bar, then? You didn’t technically lie, so everything’s fair game?”

He sets the menu down. His hands are steady. “I didn’t lie,” he repeats, quieter now. More serious. “I just didn’t say everything.”

Your gaze narrows. “And what, exactly, were you omitting?”

He shrugs, like it's nothing. Like it's obvious. “That I’m me.”

“You are,” you agree flatly. “Which is exactly the problem.”

He tilts his head, a mockery of innocence. “How do you know who I am?”

“Don’t bullshit me like that,” you huff. 

“I’m not bullshitting anyone.”

“You drive for McLaren. You’re on billboards. You’re on TikTok. You're on the back of some guy's hoodie literally right now,” you say, jerking your chin toward a fan near the bar. “I live in this country. Everyone either wants to marry you or throw eggs at your car."

He smiles, crooked. “And you?”

You pick up your water glass. Raise it halfway to your mouth.

He watches. Waiting.

“Do you love me or hate me?” he rephrases. 

You sip. Let the silence stretch. Let it smolder.

He doesn’t know, you think. He doesn’t realize he’s already made you come four times with just his voice. Doesn’t realize you still keep one of the recordings saved under a boring filename, like MeetingNotes.mp3, so no one ever asks.

You swallow. Set the glass down gently. “Ask me again after dessert.”

His grin sharpens. He leans forward, arms braced on the table, voice low and amused. “If dessert’s anything like your last voice note,” he stage-whispers, “we’re both fucked."

You just smile in response. A little cruel. A little inviting.

Dinner is—annoyingly perfect.

The food is forgettable. The conversation, less so.

Oscar is better in person than you want him to be. Wry. Self-contained. Polite, but not boring. He orders sparkling water and something seared. You get pasta you won’t finish. He doesn’t talk about the car, or the team, or what it’s like to be twenty-something and publicly dissected. 

Instead, he tells you about the time he forgot his passport before a flight to Singapore, about a hotel in Japan where the toilet kept playing jazz, about how he once learned to cook for his ex and now only knows how to make three elaborate dishes he no longer eats.

Sometimes, when he hits the punchline, his voice dips. A cadence that slides lower, smooths out. The accent thickens. Familiar. Unmistakable.

It hits you like a bruise. He’s used that voice on you. You grip the stem of your glass a little tighter, and he notices. 

“You’re staring,” he says lightly, not looking up from his plate.

You arch a brow. “So are you.”

He shrugs, barely containing a smile. “Only fair.”

The rest of the meal passes in rhythm. You say something cutting. He volleys it back. There’s a pulse beneath every word. You can feel it in your knee bouncing under the table. In the way he keeps adjusting his sleeves, his watch, the angle of his posture.

Then, without ceremony, he calls for the bill.

It arrives like a closing chapter. No questions asked. No pretense. The decision already made.

He walks you to the curb with one hand in his pocket and the other brushing yours just enough to make your pulse trip. He doesn’t ask where you’re both heading. 

Neither of you speak on the cab ride. Tension coils in the silence, warm and anticipatory. Your thighs press together. His knee bumps yours once and neither of you moves away. He watches the city roll by. You watch the reflection of his jaw in the window.

By the time you get to your building, you’re drowning in it. Want. Nerves. That stupid, low ache he used to pull from you with nothing but a breath in your ear.

He follows you up without asking. You unlock your door with hands that only barely shake. Step aside.

He enters like he’s been here before, like he owns it. Maybe he does. A little.

You close the door behind you. Lean your back against it. Heart banging like it wants out. Oscar turns. Looks at you. Doesn’t move.

“You gonna kiss me,” you ask, voice too steady, “or just stand there like a fucking statue?”

His mouth curves. Slow. Measured. “Was waiting for the invitation.”

You walk toward him with something sharper than grace. Hunger dressed in confidence. He doesn't step back, but doesn't reach first.

You kiss him like it costs you.

Because it does.

Oscar kisses you like he’s starving.

Because he is.

Your hands find his jaw. His neck. The hair at the back of his head. His grip lands on your waist, then your hips, then your ass. He pulls you closer, and it’s like gravity itself rearranges.

You already know he’s going to be your favorite mistake.

The bedroom is darker than you left it.

Oscar doesn’t ask to be led. He walks in like he knows the way—flicks the light on low, toes off his shoes, rolls up his sleeves. You pause in the doorway. He glances back.

“Are you going to hover there all night, or…”

You arch a brow. “Or?”

Oscar grins. It’s lazy and confident, the way you’ve seen in those Instagram reels where he’s being sprayed with champagne. “Or you can come show me how grateful you are I didn’t bail.”

You scoff, but your feet move anyway.

He reaches for you halfway across the room, tugging you close by the waist. Hands hot and steady. When his mouth brushes yours again, it’s rougher. His tongue dips in like he owns the space. Like he’s checking if it’s still his.

You pull back just enough to speak. “You think you’re cocky enough for both of us?” you breathe. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” That damned accent. Uncut. All bite and heat now, slinking down your spine. “You haven’t seen cocky yet.”

He kisses you again. Deeper this time. His teeth scrape your bottom lip, and your knees nearly buckle. His hand slides between your legs, cupping through your clothes. You have to bite back a groan. 

He freezes. Pulls back just enough to murmur against your mouth. “Christ. You’re soaked.”

Your face heats. You go to swat his hand away, but he catches your wrist, fingers curling around it tight. Not painful. Commanding. “Don’t.”

The word lands like a struck match.

You glare up at him. “Don’t what?”

He steps back, dragging you with him until the backs of your knees hit the bed. Then he lets go. “Lie back,” he commands. 

You don’t move.

He tilts his head. Patient. Dangerous. “C’mon. You know how this goes,” he says. “I’ve heard you. Watched you.”

Your throat tightens. Heat curls, low and shaming. “You want me to—”

“Touch yourself, yeah.”

He says it like a challenge. Like a dare. Like he already knows you’re going to.

You hesitate. Try to find some footing in wit. Pride. Something. “Bit arrogant, aren’t you?”

Oscar raises one shoulder in a shrug, then steps back and lowers himself into your desk chair, spreading his thighs like he’s settling in for a show. That stupid fucking hoodie still on. That face calm, unreadable, but eyes already locked to your hands.

“Not arrogance if I’m right.”

You sit. Slowly. Let the silence drag.

His tone softens. Just a notch. “You want to stop, say it. I’ll go.”

You don’t.

You stretch out against the mattress, spine arching, one hand brushing up under your dress. Slowly. Testing.

His breath catches. Just barely. But it counts.

You pull your dress up. The air bites at the wet heat between your thighs. He sees it. Sees all of you now, bare and hesitant and trembling despite the attitude.

“There we go,” he murmurs. “Attagirl.”

You flush hard.

His voice, when it comes again, is the same one from the recordings.

Low. Measured. Laced with that accent that makes you ache in places you didn’t know could ache. The kind of voice that doesn’t ask. It tells. Demands. Wraps around your spine and pulls.

“Start slow,” he says. “Middle finger first. You know where.”

You hesitate. Maybe on principle. Maybe out of spite. His gaze doesn’t waver.

You part your thighs, breath trembling, and slip your hand between them. Skin already flushed, hypersensitive. One touch and you’re jolting like you’ve been struck. There’s too much heat. Too much memory. Too much of him already lodged inside your head.

The way he looks at you like you’re art and ammunition at once. Something precious. Something dangerous. His to admire. His to detonate.

He leans back in your chair—your chair—and makes it his. Arms crossed. Legs spread. Casual dominance wrapped in a stupid McLaren jacket. 

“Perfect,” he murmurs, just above a whisper, just enough to sting. “Now pull those pretty little panties to the side, yeah?” 

You slide your finger through the slick heat pooling between your thighs, pressing in just enough to tease. Not enough to satisfy. Not yet. You arch, a quiet curse slipping through clenched teeth. You can feel your heartbeat everywhere.

“God,” you hiss. “Please—”

He cuts you off with a look that’s amused, stern, and fucking devastating. “Don’t beg. Not yet,” he says. “You’re the one who got yourself off without me all this time. Show me how.”

You want to hit him. You want to kiss him. You glare instead, but your hand doesn’t stop moving. Faster now, the slick sound of it filling the room.

Shame and arousal knot together. Coiling.

Oscar’s next command slices through the air like a whip. “Two fingers.”

You obey. You hate that you do. You love that he knows you will. You slide in a second finger, walls clenching around the stretch, breath catching in your throat. You’re wetter than you thought possible—your body a traitor, your pride fraying at the seams.

The sounds you’re making now are shameless. Gasps. Moans. Pleas that you swallow back before they fall.

Oscar watches like a critic. Like he’s appraising a performance he commissioned.

“Fuck, look at you,” he drawls. “Dripping all over your sheets like a filthy little thing.”

Your eyes squeeze shut, shivering from the inside out.

“Open your eyes,” he snaps. “I want you watching me while you fall apart.”

You listen. And you’re close now—so close your legs twitch from the tension, the ache curling under your skin like fire. “Holy shit,” you breathe, and Oscar takes it as a sign to dole out his next order. 

“Faster. Come on,” he prompts. “Fuck yourself like you mean it.”

You don’t think. You just do. Obeying the voice that’s ruined you so many times before. Your wrist strains and your body trembles; everything else disappears.

He tilts his head, that cruel smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What’s the matter? Need my cock already?”

You whimper. It escapes you before you can bite it back. Your wrist stutters. You wince.

His eyes flash, sharp. “Keep going. I didn’t say stop.”

“Oscar—”

“You’re so greedy, aren't you? Want me to do all the work,” he taunts. “Want to lie there, all needy and wet, and be ruined. But you can do this. You’ve done it before.”

You’re a breath away now. A single exhale from breaking. Everything inside you is wound tight and aching for release. A sob crawls out from the back of your throat as you go back to pumping your fingers into your sopping cunt, trying to chase pleasure for the man coaxing you towards it. 

Oscar softens, just slightly. Just enough to make it worse. 

“Good girl. Come for me,” he says. “Come just like you did the night I told you to come on your fingers and thank me after."

And you do.

It hits like a wave—sudden and brutal. Your whole body locks, jerks, shatters around your own hand. You sob his name. Mouth open, eyes wide. Locked on his.

You’re still twitching when he lunges.

Oscar’s mouth catches yours mid-breath, swallowing your shudder. It’s not gentle. It’s selfish. Desperate. The kind of kiss that tastes like claiming and salt and the bruised edge of your own name.

You gasp into it, and he’s already over you, under you, everywhere. All teeth and hands and heat. Fingers slick from your own body. Tongue pressing past your lips as if he owns the next breath you’ll take.

Clothes disappear in pieces. Dress shoved up, then off. His shirt peeled from his skin. Fingers catching in your straps, tugging them down your arms. He kisses the hollow of your throat, then bites the underside of your. Your hips squirm as he presses a thigh between them, pinning you down, rolling against you. It’s clumsy, chaotic, intimate in a way that feels dangerous.

“Fuck,” he hisses into your mouth. “I’ve thought about this. So many times. You like this part, don’t you? Being spread out. Slick. Shaking. Waiting for someone to make you come again.”

You try to speak, but he steals your answer with another kiss. Deep, consuming. He doesn’t let you come down. He only keeps pushing, talking, layering heat over heat until your mind goes foggy with it.

“You know what got me off the hardest? The idea of your fingers deep inside, while I talked you through it. And you were doing it. Weren’t you? Playing along like a good little whore. Sending me photos. Moaning my name like you knew it already.”

His hand slides down your side, grazing your breast, your ribs, the trembling dip of your waist. He palms your thigh, pushes it open wider.

“Oh my God,” you manage to choke out, just as he moves back to strip away his clothes. 

Shirt, pants, briefs. It’s almost clinical, the way he undresses. Efficient. No hesitation. No shame.

And then he’s there. Gloriously there. Pale cock standing at attention, with an angry red tip leaking like a faucet. 

You blink. You stammer.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him like this. Hard and flushed and heavy, thick veins along the shaft. And it’s—bigger than expected. Realer than you let yourself imagine.

Your breath catches. Your thighs tense.

He notices. Oscar’s voice drops, losing some of its edge. It’s not gone, but it’s muted. Softer. Measured.

“You alright?” he asks, cocking his head. There’s a gentleness to his eyes that makes your heart ache and your clit throb. “You can tap out. I mean it. I won’t be mad.”

Your mouth is dry. Your thighs are wet. You nod, then, realizing you need to say something out loud, you whisper, “I want this. Want you.” 

The moment stretches. A beat. A breath. His hand brushes your knee, the gesture grounding. Patient.

His smile returns. Slow. Wolfish. “Good,” he hums, “because I’m going to ruin you.”

He crawls back over you, dragging the head of his cock through your slick folds, teasing your entrance but not pushing in. Yet.

“Gonna fuck you slow first,” he murmurs, voice thick. “Make you feel every inch. Then I’ll fuck you the way I’ve been thinking about since the first time you sent me that little audio message. You remember? All breathless, whispering thank you like you were praying.”

His fingers dig into your hips, holding you steady as he shifts forward.

“Thought about you with your legs spread, touching yourself just like I told you to. Thought about bending you over this bed, and making you say please until you cried.”

You do. You remember too well.

“Say it again,” he murmurs, pressing against you. “Say thank you, Oscar.”

Somehow, you manage to choke it out. “Thank you, Oscar,” you whimper. 

Finally, finally, he begins to press his tip in. It’s a stretch that borders on unbearable. His jaw clenches. Your mouth falls open. Nails scrape along his shoulder blades, searching for purchase.

He groans into your neck. “That’s it. Let me in. Let me fuck you open.”

You can’t speak. Can’t think. Only feel the drag of him, the weight of it, the way he fills you up.

Oscar braces a hand beside your head, breath hot against your cheek. “You’re so fucking tight,” he grunts. “You were made for this. Made for me.”

You arch. He presses deeper, and deeper, until there’s nothing left between you but the slow, obscene drag of his cock inside your cunt. There’s the sound of your own breathing, ragged and real.

There’s the knowledge—shared and silent—that there’s no going back from this.

He finds a rhythm quickly. Like he’s been mapping it in his head for months. Maybe longer.

Each thrust is deliberate, brutal in its consistency. It’s as if he’s trying to etch himself into the softest part of you, and he is. You know he is. You feel it. Over and over. A litany in motion. Sharp hips, sharp tongue, sharp wit. The shape of him inside you becoming a kind of prayer.

“You look so good like this,” he rasps, breath hot against your throat. “Fucked open. Finally where you belong.”

It’s filthy. Cruel. Exactly what you thought you wanted. Your body flinches. Tighter around him. Unintended. A tell. The smallest betrayal.

His hips stutter mid-thrust. He watches you, eyes narrowing, brain ticking. Calculating. When he smiles knowingly, it’s the kind that feels like danger wearing a soft edge. Something mean with manners.

“Oh,” he says slowly. “Is that what does it for you? Not when I call you my little whore, but when I say you look good?”

You glare, trying to keep your dignity intact, your breath steady. “Fuck you.” 

“I am fucking you, pretty girl.” 

You clench down again. Oscar chuckles breathlessly, the sound low and mean.  “There it is again,” he murmurs, rolling his hips slowly, the grind unbearably deep. “Tight little squeeze. Your pussy’s telling on you, darling.” 

You hate him. You don’t. You want him. You want more. Want it mean, want it sweet, want it all at once. Contradictions melting in your gut.

He leans in, presses a kiss to your temple. Tender. Too tender. A cruel kind of affection. It makes your stomach turn in the best way. “You’re perfect, you know that?” he whispers in a tone that borders affection. 

Your body sings. It sings around him. Like a lock clicking open. Like truth breaking skin.

Oscar makes a low sound in his throat, equal parts reverence and smugness. The sound of discovery. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he groans, suddenly gentle in voice but not in pace. His hips are snapping hard. “You want to be worshipped? Want me to treat you like a princess?” 

You want to scoff. You can’t. Your pride’s still here, somewhere, buried under want. But your thighs are trembling.

You’re panting. Clutching. Tethering yourself to whatever's left. Oscar’s right there, relentless. Praising you like a prayer whispered between thrusts. As if every compliment earns him another inch.

“So tight. So fucking perfect.”

“You’re taking me so well. Never felt anything like this.” 

“You were made for me, baby. You’re—hng—sweetest pussy I’ve ever had.” 

Your orgasm builds again. Tangled. Tense. Threatening to snap.

He sees it. Feels it. The way your body contracts. The small, high-pitched sounds spilling from you. The way your hand grips his bicep like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to earth.

“Not yet,” he says, a command. “Stay right there. Want to feel you fall apart. Want to watch it happen.” 

He slows, the bastard. His pace turns into deep, dragging thrusts that leave you gasping. He draws it out until it hurts—the pleasure of it all. Until you’re clawing at him, not to escape, but to survive.

“That’s it,” he breathes, brushing his mouth against your jaw. “My good girl. Always so good for me.”

You’re on the edge. Hanging by a thread. Every nerve ending tuned to him, to this.

You just look up at him—eyes wide, mouth parted, vulnerable in the worst way. The best way. “Can’t hold it back,” you whine. “Oscar, ‘m gonna come.” 

“Do it,” he relents, voice going impossibly soft as he hits that spot inside you. The one that has you seeing stars. “Good girls deserve to milk me dry.” 

He doesn’t stop when you start to fall apart.

If anything, he leans into it. Presses harder, deeper. Riding the tension as it breaks, then crests again, then splinters entirely. Your body spasms beneath him, dragged mercilessly through the folds of pleasure, like he’s determined to wring you out. Thorough, precise, and just a little cruel.

You’re gasping. Boneless. Trying to anchor yourself to anything real, anything solid, and finding only him. His hand on your hip, his chest against yours, his mouth, half-sharp, half-sweet, pressing whatever it wants into your skin.

“That’s it. That’s it,” he says, breath unsteady but voice still maddeningly in control. “Look at you. Look what I do to you.”

He slows, but not because he needs to. Because he likes watching you twitch. He lets you linger in that overstimulated afterglow, lets the echoes settle before pulling them forward again.

You think that’s it. That he’ll fold you against his chest, that his mouth will find the shell of your ear and whisper something soft, foolish, post-coital.

But no. Oscar lifts his head. Reaches to brush your hair from your eyes with the back of his fingers as if it’s some gentle courtesy, not a prelude.

“Still good for me to get what I want?”

His voice is not tentative. Instead, it lies in wait. The kind of question that’s already half-answered.

You nod.

“Use your words.”

You swallow. Find breath.

“Yes.”

A corner of his lip tugs upward. Something hungry flashes in it. Then he moves—rising off you with that lithe, economical grace, hands guiding your hips as he shifts the angle, presses your thighs apart again.

Rougher, now. Faster. His control returns in the shape of momentum. Your body, pliant and bruised with bliss, meets each thrust like instinct, like muscle memory. It’s overwhelming, but you don’t want him to stop. You want to be unmade properly. To see what he looks like when he breaks, too.

When he pulls out, you chase the loss. He catches your chin between his fingers, leans in with eyes that are just a little darker than earlier. “Mouth.” 

You blink, then nod, repositioning with something close to desperation. Knees beneath you. Lips parting.

He slides in with a groan that cracks somewhere at the edges, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other tightening in your hair. “Fuuuck. Just like that.” 

You hum, or try to. He shudders, thrusts just hard enough to hit his tip in the back of your throat a couple of times. Your eyes water at the feel of it, but he’s already gracefully at the end of his rope. 

When he finishes—hard and fast, hips twitching, voice fractured into a curse and your name—it feels less like an ending and more like something earned. Like gravity finally catching up to the fall.

He stays there a moment longer. Fingers softening. Breathing out your name like it tastes good in his mouth.

He pulls out after a moment too long. He’s still catching his breath when he sees it: his release, smeared at the corner of your mouth. Glossing your bottom lip. A thin, obscene line trailing down your chin like spilled sin. 

You’re blinking up at him, fucked-out and glassy-eyed, still breathing through parted lips. And it ruins him. Just absolutely levels him.

“Jesus Christ,” he groans hoarsely, reverently. “You look—”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. Doesn’t need to. You can see it in the way his hand runs over his face, like he’s trying to scrub the image from his mind and failing gloriously.

He kisses you, then, but not with hunger. It’s something slower instead. Grounded. His thumb catches the mess at your lip, and he hums when you let him wipe it away. He’s tasting himself, tasting you. Taking it all in.

There’s something almost delicate about it, which would be surprising if you didn’t already feel like the floor had dropped out from under you somewhere between his praise and the way he came undone in your mouth.

He pulls back with an exhale. Presses his forehead against yours. Murmurs, “Where do you keep your towels?”

You’re brain is still just a little too foggy to process. “What?” 

“Towels,” Oscar repeats, nudging your nose with his. “Or wet wipes. Or a cloth. Just—anything that won’t make me feel like I’m letting you marinate in me.”

You bark out a laugh. “Didn’t realize you were the aftercare type.”

“I’m not a monster,” he deadpans, dragging a hand through his hair as he sits up. The movement pulls every line of his body into view. Long, clean limbs. Defined stomach. The faint blush of exertion still clinging to his skin. You stare. You don’t mean to.

Your eyes follow the flex of his back as he stands. The easy confidence in the way he moves across your space like he’s lived in it. Like he belongs. He doesn’t. That’s the problem.

You rattle off a drawer, a shelf, the hallway linen closet. He listens, nods, and disappears from view.

And that’s when your mind begins to spiral.

Because you just fucked Oscar Piastri. 

Let him talk you through your orgasm. Let him ruin you, mouth and body and everything soft in between. Let him see you like this—open, loud, desperate.

What the fuck were you thinking?

He’s a goddamn risk. You know that. You’ve heard the warning signs. The drowning metaphors. The stories that end in fire. But you did it anyway. Jumped, swam, sank. Let him into your bed, your life. 

It doesn’t have to mean anything, you reason. It could be a one-off. 

But then—

Oscar comes back. Warm cloth in one hand, clean towel in the other. He settles beside you, nudging your legs open gently so he can clean you up without asking. It’s matter-of-fact. Unflinching. Weirdly intimate.

He says nothing at first; he only takes care of you like he means it. Then, as he pulls the blanket up around you both, he kisses your shoulder and murmurs, low and cocky: “Give me twenty minutes, and then we can go again.” 

You laugh. It bubbles out of you before you can stop it, warmth spreading across your chest like sunlight you weren’t expecting. Dangerous. Disarming.

You press your face into the pillow and mutter, “Asshole.”

He grins against your skin. Doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t promise anything else. But he wraps an arm around your waist like maybe he’s not done with you. Not even close.

Against your better judgment, you find yourself hoping he’s telling the truth.

Maybe it’s too soon to say it.

But God, you might just love—the risk. Not him. Surely not him.

Right? ⛐

box, box!!! ⸻ i am currently taking commissions for donations made to philippine typhoon relief efforts. read more on where to donate & how to request.

[sainztropez]

it's finally weekend for me, uni has drained me this week, but i'm finally free to write something. i really really really wanna do something in the lines of dentist!reader x driver, unfortunaly i dont have anything in mind... anyone got any ideas? i'm open to it!!

(p.s i just wanna do dentist!reader x driver bc i'm graduating dental school hihihihehehe)

[sainztropez]

✧ mr. wrong - smau ✧ - part 2

⋆° summary: in the spotlight of Formula 1 and heartbreak pop, yn and charles leclerc’s whirlwind romance spirals from “first and last love” to cryptic posts, bitter lyrics, and emotional fallout. love burns fast on the paddock but heartbreak burns faster.

⋆° pairings: charles leclerc x verstappen!singer!reader x ?

⋆° genre: some angst, some fluff (it'll come). lots of drama and mainly musical.

⋆° warnings: cheating, swear words.

author notes: guys thank you all so much for all the love this fic has been receiving, i'm really shocked by that!!! english is not my first language so please excuse my poor grammar and spelling mistakes. i tried to tag everyone who askd to be tagged<3 hope you all like it.

part 1

Feb/2025. Pre-season

liked by mclaren, oscarpiastri, lando and 5,879,666 users

tagged mclaren oscarpiastri lando

yn McLaren x YN video collab out now. I'm so happy to be a part of this project, this means a lot to me as an artist and also a F1 fan. Thank you, McLaren for always believing in me and thank you Oscar and Lando for always been by my side (and also participating in this...). To those who claimed we were a throuple, there's your answer. This is McLaren's year, I promise.

mclaren Our triple threat! ❤️liked by author

oscarpiastri i'm not paid well enough for this actually yn ? huh oscarpiastri my bad

lando but i'm free if you want..... ❤️liked by author yn know your limits lando just saying maxverstappen1 stop saying. no more drivers for yn. yn noooooooooo what about lewis he's my crush carlossainz55 really yn? yn sorry carlitos... i know he snatched your seat :<

user her brother drives for redbull yet she only promotes mclaren.. user istg... she would even support alpine but wouldn't dare to support her brother

user let me innnnnn

user honestly? i wanna be a part of this throuple. ❤️liked by author

liked by iamrebecad, user, user and 457,556 users

f1gossip a day to remember... 5 leaked pics (we can legally show you only 2) from the Charles x Yn saga. Were you online when the tea spilled?

So babes… in this very day in 2021 during one of his lives, Charles Leclerc accidentally dropped some very NSFW shots from his camera roll. The star of the pics? Yn Verstappen (or just Yn —your call 🫠).

And OH, the drama was real. The pop girlie herself spoke out in a Marie Claire interview later that year, saying: "Obviously I was frustrated. I don’t care if the whole world sees — but my parents saw, my brother saw, and that was kinda a problem. I admire people who do that, but I’m not the type to drop a sex tape." 💬

Fast forward to now... Yn was just spotted kissing not one but TWO (81 and 4) guys. We had Miley Cyrus going wild last decade—are we entering the pop princess rebel era with Yn now??

💬 Sound off in the comments. We’re watching.

user they were wild.. cant believe he's now playing happy family user agree... no hate towards his new girl, but everything feels like its a pr move. user yall dont know these people, bffr rn. user did we lie tho ?

user not rebeca liking the post...

user honestly i dont know how sainz claims to be a very good friend to yn but still dates a woman who destroyed her relationship with charles and likes tendencious posts about yn... user i dont think yn cares much about this... she already stated that she was never really a part of this whole wag world. maybe charles's new girl is a lot more interested and thats why rebeca is friends with her user yn always gave off the vibe of someone who thought like she was above the other wags... user she's THE yn... being charles's girlfriend was not her job user maybe thats why he broke up with her

March 2025

yn posted a story

caption gonna miss him...

replies

lando just give me a chance yn im pretty sure i'm not the one you wanna bang lando we could have double dates in australia... yn stop this nonsense... i just came out of a relationship, i dont wanna engage in another one anytime soon. lando if i'm not blind, which clearly i am not, i saw you engaging in a lot of things with a certain aussie yn stooooop. anyways, i'm going to the australian gp too...

lando ofc you are... does max knows about this? yn nope, i'm not going to the paddock... i have some friends to meet there. lando perhaps i know some of these friends... yn not gonna tell you, you have such a big mouth.

iamrebecad girl you should come to my bday party! next saturday yn dear rebeca, i only ever bothered being nice to you because you were dating one of my best friends. but now that we’re not stuck doing double dates anymore? No point keeping up the act. also… let’s be honest, you’re practically glued to my ex’s new girlfriend. want me to show up just so you two can laugh about what a sore loser I am? nah, I still have some self-esteem left. anyway, it’s cool. no hard feelings. sure, you introduced charles to alexandra, but you didn’t exactly hold his hand through the cheating. pretty sure he managed that part all on his own. user iamrebecad stopped following you you stopped following user iamrebecad

charles_leclerc16 we have a lot to talk yn really charles? now that i can do things on my own you wanna talk? the cat got your tongue 5 months ago when I wanted to talk? yn also i'm not in monaco charles_leclerc16 yes you are. i asked around yn creep charles_leclerc16 yeah i know i fucked things up... i'm on the verge of knocking on your door, i can hear you walking around your kitchen. yn so? i'll call the cops on you. charles_leclerc16 open the door please.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

you open the door to your apartment and the cool night breeze slips in, carrying the distant hum of coastal traffic. he stands on the threshold, shoulders hunched, relief flooding his face when your silhouette fills the doorway. your jaw tightens at the sight of him —every polite instinct gone. god how you wanted to hate him. the foyer lights cast long shadows across the marble floor, emphasizing the rigid line of your crossed arms.

“can we talk?” he whispers, voice hoarse like he’s been hauling regret around for days.

your laugh is brittle. “i think you had too many chances to talk. what about me? did i ever get those chances? you blocked me, barred me from your life, asked your family to ignore my calls, painted me as the crazy one." your voice carried the pain you have been suffering all these months. "now it’s your turn to listen. and if i ever feel like knowing about your life again — maybe i’ll let you speak.”

your voice trembles then hardens, as if the walls themselves echo your fury. he shrinks back, eyes glistening, but you press on, heart pounding in your ears like a drum.

“you were my first love, charles. i gave you everything a man could dream of — i let go of dreams, plans, pieces of myself for you. and you cheated. twice.” your hands clench into fists at your sides, knuckles white under the soft glow of the chandelier. “you shoved me out, turned your family against me. do you think it was fair i spent months trapped in my own home, terrified to even breathe fresh air? all i ever wanted was you: marriage, kids, build my own career. but to you i was just an accessory, someone to show off at races and dinners. and her..." — your voice catches as you picture that other woman — “she’s your perfect creation: lives in your shadow, does exactly what you want. i refuse to ever shrink myself again.”

the room falls silent except for the steady tick of the antique clock on the wall. his greenish, almost blue eyes, bright with remorse, search your face. finally he asks, voice barely louder than a breath.

“are you really... seeing oscar and lando?”

you throw your head back and laugh, a sound that echoes through the room.

“please. it’s just promo. we’re good friends. besides, they will kill me when i tell them i let you in.” you swipe a tear from your cheek, voice softer but no less fierce.

he bows his head, stepping forward as though to reach for your hand, but stops himself. “i’m sorry. nothing i say can undo what i did. i was wrong, and i wanted to come back to you —b ut i know i shouldn’t ask. you deserve better.” he swallows hard. “carlos won’t speak to me anymore. everyone assumes it’s about the contract issues with ferrari, but it’s not—it’s you. max almost gave me a black eye last month... i know i deserve it. the hurt i caused you made half of my... our friends turn away from me.”

you lift your chin, heart thumping so loud it drowns out his words.

“please go. i don’t deserve to relive that pain. i don’t care if you’re sorry, or if you’re bored of playing doll with your new girlfriend.” your voice is soft as you see him voluntary walking out the door. "can't you see that i'm way happier now? so you want me now that i met someone else? now that i'm starting to feel trust someone again?

as it shuts, the tension melts from your shoulders and you crumble onto the plush rug, tears soaking into the fabric, you hear him saying "i'm sorry", voice cracked. the chandelier’s light flickers. you bury your face in your hands, sobs rattling your chest. a sudden buzz from your phone jolts you upright — missed calls from lando, oscar and your agents, and even worse: texts messages from your family groupchat asking you to not pay attention to social media.

but you do. one scroll and it’s hell: aftershock headlines, tabloid fury, recycled images from that terrible leak — the private photos that once shattered you now splashed again across every feed. and the new paparazzi scoop, gleaming like a fresh wound under the flash of a thousand cameras. your breath catches, and the room spins, the floor tilting beneath you. even alone, his shadow stretches across your world. you dare to think that maybe this is god's way of saying to you that things will never work out in your favor, or maybe you weren't mean to be happy.

✩

liked by user, user and 1,523,166 users

f1gossip Spotted: it's giving “where one girl leaves crying, no girl walks away smiling” energy... and sadly, that might hit a little too close to home for miss Alex. Her man was seen creeping out of Yn Monaco apartment — and yeah, not exactly skipping with joy. 👀 Reconciliation? Collab? Emotional damage™? Unclear. But judging by Monaco's prince's face… this convo did not end in heart emojis. 💔

Someone grab this lost puppy before he ends up back in her drafts. Or better yet, should alex start packing too? Asking for a friend.

user i knew he'd do that... poor alex was only a summer thing

user this close up of a pic ? istg if this whole break up thing is only a pr move i'm gonna be real pissed

user rumour has it yn and rebeca donaldson stopped being mutuals on this app... user i mean, its pretty obvious that they werent really that much of friends. user also... carlos claims to be yn's friend but still dates rebeca... user you're not tired of saying the same thing over and over again?

user lmao i thought i was crazy when i saw chalex fighting the other day at a random club in maranello. user spill the tea sis user i didnt catch much of it, but i dont think it was abt yn... user i mean maybe theyre tired of eo

user id understand if she came back to him.

user she can have any man she wants right now, why would she come back to a cheating loser?

liked by oscarpiastri, lando, maxverstappen1 and 8,555,666 users

yn so thrilled to finally announce that “Red” album drops march 16. it’s been forever since i released something that didn’t sound like heartbreak therapy, so if you’ve been waiting for my sunshiny, in-love, head-in-the-clouds era... this one’s for you 💿💋

oh, and if you haven’t watched the “Bed Chem” music video yet what are you even doing?? link’s in bio, babygirls and babyboys.

🤍 p.s. nice to share my love life for once, instead of reading about it through leaked pics and gossip threads. this time, the funny business is coming straight from the source. enjoy.

user WHOS THIS user i think i recognize these moles....

user soft launch vibes????? gooooood i missed this yn

lando polite cat my ass lmao yn stop bullying him lando "who's the cute guy with wide brown eyes and a thick accent"?

oscarpiastri really excited!! ❤️liked by author maxverstappen1 please say sike rn user what does max know that we dont??

user another one girl??? rest for awhile user i really hope you're talking about the album being released so close to the last one... i really hope

carlossainz55 whos this, ms yn? ❤️liked by author yn a cute guy with wide brown eyes... maxverstappen1 you really dont know? youre getting reaaaal old sainz yn my versainz <3 carlossainz55 stop rn.

taylorswift This one is for the history books!!! Loved working with you, Yn. ❤️liked by author yn totally my honour!

rosielovesrose Prettiest blondie in the world. yn not you sayin thaaaat

𖡡 Melbourne, Aus

liked by lando, oscarpiastri, carlossainz55 and 3,223,445 users

yn i'm actually proud of these so i'm sharing them bc i want to.

lando miss nsfw leaks yn be glad i let you be a vouyeur... i know you wanna a piece of MY delicious meal lando that aussie meat might be thicc mmm yn now its time to stop.

oscarpiastri glad to see you happy, yn!! ❤️liked by author

nicolepiastri When are we going to see you again, dear?? ❤️liked by author yn whoaaaa, i hope soon!! im kinda waiting for that person to invite me again.

user so now she hopped to best new thing?? lmao...

user and you said charles was your first and only, right?

user istg charles fans are just boymoms... he cheats yet she cant move on? cant find her happiness? god.

maxverstappen1 i need to have my eyes bleached urgent yn kellypiquet please he's out again kellypiquet Dont worry, Yn! I'll take care of him .

carlossainz55 so you were in melbourne having fun while i begged you to stop by at my garage yn you know... love duties carlossainz55 funny how i saw a mysterious blonde around mclaren... yn i fear i'm becoming a part of them carlossainz55 not you ditching me too 😭

user this might be oscar. i knoooooow it i can feel. user nurse shes out again... user are you on something?

liked by lando, yn, kellypiquet and 1,665,223 users

oscarpiastri last week in melbourne

lando what you were doing there oscarpiastri its my city

lando ive been planting this seed for years and you came stomping through my garden mate oscarpiastri what can i say? i have my charms lando mf finally did it

yn oooooh her body tea oscarpiastri she said thank you pretty yn did she let you sweet talk me like that? 😭

user why you're not posting about thisssss?? its clearly yn and him f1gossip f1gossip is it a gossip if everyone knows?? user lets be reaaaaal yall are afraid of a lawsuit after the last post abt yn.

June 2025

yn posted a story "living the tour life"

oscarpiastri my insta feed when i'm hungry yn stop being silly yn i'm coming to spain... gonna see you get that podium oscarpiastri be at front row, i wanna do something stupid after the race yn so you're winning for real? oscarpiastri its a promise, baby...

𖡡 Barcelona, Spain

liked by nicolepiastri, oscarpiastri, lando and 3,778,555 users

yn met a cutie in Barcelona! Thank you mclaren for always inviting me, it's a pleasure to be a part of the papaya squad. P1 and P2 for my dearest friends <3

lando why did oscar win a solo shoot at your insta and i dont? i meannn you and i go waaaaay back yn i do things to him you wouldnt allow me to do to you lando wouldnt i? oscarpiastri please dont give him ideas.

oscarpiastri babe i have kissed you on live, i fear they already know maxverstappen1 i couldnt believe my eyes. how dare you piastri? yn dont bully him

maxverstappen1 you're on thin fucking ice oscarpiastri

maxverstappen1 Love you, babysis! ❤️liked by author

lando my couple! yn STOP i have nightmares user THE SHADE OMGGGGG LANDO user he's so unserious

carlossainz55 it only took him a few months to ask you out, honestly i'm impressed by his game yn one of his many qualities

user yn lover girl era again!!! so glad to be a part of it.

user now lets be for real, who inspired better music: charles or oscar? user i'm sensing a grammy nomination with this one so yeah oscar wins... user a woman is behind it all and all you bitches can talk about is men

liked by mclaren, yn, nicolepiastri and 1,354,789 users

oscarpiastri got the podium and got the girl. @/yn

yn kinda hot... are you single? oscarpiastri blocked.

maxverstappen1 congrats man... dont you dare make her cry. i know where you live <3 oscarpiastri never, mate!

lando my couple!!! oscarpiastri we're not having a third, lando

mclaren that's our girl! ❤️liked by author

user honestly? idc anymore...

user that should be meeeeeeeee (with yn, ofc).

user he doesnt know i'm feral for him. god.

3 years later.

liked by maxverstappen1, carlossainz55, lando and 4,356,888 users

oscarpiastri It’s been three years. Three years of you. Of us. Of slow mornings and loud laughter and quiet, unspoken understanding. Yesterday, I looked at you and thought, “Surely this must be the peak. Surely, love can’t go deeper than this.” Honestly, I was wrong... Because I do love you more today. More than I did in the golden hours of yesterday. More than I believed was even possible. It’s a love that rewrites itself daily. It doesn't plateau, it ascends. It stretches me wide and fills the corners of my soul I didn’t know were empty. You are the miracle my heart never dared to demand. And I keep waking up thinking, “There’s no way I could love you more than I do right now.” But then I do. Every single day. More. And then even more than that. So if someone asks me what love looks like I'm sure It looks like this. It looks like you.

yn you're making me cry. this is not fair, i'm the one good with words in this relationship. ❤️liked by author

nicolepiastri So good to see you happy, my son! yn brings out the best in you! ❤️liked by author

maxverstappen1 Thank you, Piastri for always being there for my babysis! (ps.: when are you going to pop the ring....) ❤️liked by author

lando i knew for a fact that yall were gonna last! my couple, after all...

yn my baby, thank you for loving me more today than you did yesterday, for proving, in the quietest ways, that love doesn’t just stay, it grows. thank you for holding me up when i couldn’t do it alone, for believing in me even when i questioned myself, for being the one soul i can trust with mine completely. i know your heart is mine, just as mine belongs entirely to you. thank you for never flinching at my past. you saw the mess, the mistakes, the shadows, and you chose me anyway. thank you for loving me for who i am and everything i’m (we are) becoming. these past three years by your side have been the most important years of my life. and if this is what love looks like, i want to keep waking up in it forever. ❤️liked by author oscarpiastri love you forever and ever 'cause you're my, my, my... lover yn every other man in this planet would hate to remember their girlfriends wrote love songs to their exes, but you use it to make fun of me... cant belive you, baby. oscarpiastri hmmm 1. i'm not like other men; 2. you're my wife; 3. love your love songs baby, you're just a lovergirl. yn wife? oscarpiastri i'm manifesting you accepting my proposal tonight...

taglist: @lost-library-of-violets @strawberrylov-er @lauvender-bolter @prettypink11 @isagrace22 @ketsuekiakane @kenkozkmg @thechosen-neo @gnarlynorris

[sainztropez]

hi, everyone!!!! i wasnt expecting the love this fic has been receiving, i'm honestly speechless!!! i'd like to say some things (spoiler: yeeeessss i'll be posting part 2... my schedule has been hectic theese days :<) first of all, english is not my first language, so i'm really sorry for poor writting and grammar; second, i didnt remember to put a disclaimer explaining that i have nothing against those i put as """"villains"""" in this smau!! and last, i'm currently writting part two, i was planning on posting part 2 today, but i had pratical classes at uni, so i spent all day learning how to do root canal treatment and couldnt focus on my main job (being a newbie ficwriter!). also, i'm trying to follow back everyone who followed me <3 and i'll be tagging on part 2 those who asked me to (i dont really have a taglist but i could create one, so if you wanna be part of it, let me know!!).

✧ mr. wrong - smau ✧

⋆° summary: in the spotlight of Formula 1 and heartbreak pop, yn and charles leclerc’s whirlwind romance spirals from “first and last love” to cryptic posts, bitter lyrics, and emotional fallout. love burns fast on the paddock but heartbreak burns faster.

⋆° pairings: charles leclerc x verstappen!singer!reader x ? ⋆° genre: some angst, some fluff (it'll come). lots of drama and mainly musical. ⋆° warnings: cheating, swear words.

2020

liked by charles_leclerc16, maxverstappen1 and 1.524.000 users

yn he finally grew a pair and asked me out. my 1st and last. tagged charles_leclerc16

maxverstappen1 please leave me this yn you were my cupid maxverstappen1 lying like that? ❤️ liked by author

user so no one's gonna talk about the age difference

user cuties

user hope to see yn around the paddock sometime! ❤️ liked by author

lando mf finally did it yn stooooop charles_leclerc16 get over it i'm her first love

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc16 and 2,000,000 users

yn Sports Car single out now! Check out.

charles_leclerc16 my yn ❤️

charles_leclerc16 love you babygirl maxverstappen1 gross charles_leclerc16 love you too babyboy ❤️ liked by author yn thats the lestappen i ship charles_leclerc16 you're not for real

lando cool car ❤️ liked by author

carlossainz55 charles_leclerc16 i'm in your walls charles_leclerc16 what's with the jealousy? last time i checked her last name was verstappen not sainz... yn stop it you two!!!

user i'm so jealous of charles... why does he get to have her all to himself he doesn't deserve yn

user leclerc i wasn't familiar with your game

user "we can uh uh in it while you drive real far" wheres my baby yn? that sang about being "Enchanted to meet her prince"? user she's always been a lowkey freak with charles... user wait am i behind on chayn lore? user girrrrrl she used to be a bug about him, saying he was her first and last crush. even max got tired of it and eventually set them up lmao user a woman that years is a woman that earns!

liked by user, user, user and 125,002 users

f1gossip Legendary singer Y/n (born Yn Verstappen) talks about her relationship with Ferrari's golden boy Charles Leclerc. "So... How do I start it? I mean, since my first album it's pretty obvious that I'm in love with Charles for a really long long time. I started bugging him about going on a date with me since last year and he wasn't being really easy — eventually he gave up and asked me out. I've never been happier." — says Yn to Jimmy Fallon in a interview last night. The singer also explains some of the songs that appear on her latest album and claims Charles as her inspirational muse. "To be really honest he's always been my muse... ever since Enchanted and You belong with me, which is a song that I'm kind of shy about now that everyone knows I was being petty. So, well... if you ask me about the songs in my new album, I'll probably have the same answer."

user how's this any related with racing?

user i can't believe people complain about this account... there's lots of accounts that only posts race stats and stuff like that. this one is for gossip bitches like me... ❤️ liked by author

user am i the only one that thinks yn is kinda the giver in this relationship? i mean she's always supporting him and i don't see the same user ngl i kinda agree user atp i think shes obsessed with having him

february 2024 - almost 4 years into the relationship

liked by user, user, user and 154,000 users

f1wagsnews Trouble in paradise? Charles Leclerc spotted with mysterious brunette woman in Maranello. Is our Yn suddenly capable of being in two places at once? Has our Yn ditched her signature golden locks?

user charles leclerc is just a man anyway

user ughhh I swear she'd still stay with him even after he cheated user you dont even know if its him user regardless i aint wrong mmhm

comments section closed

texts between yn and charles

march 2024

♪ Like a tattoo - yn

liked by carlossainz55, iamrebecad, oscarpiastri and 4,254,449 users

yn best four years of my life (ps. leo loves me more)

charles_leclerc16 j'taime bébé (ps. he doesn't) yn he knows mommy charles_leclerc16 i know too yn stop... pr's gonna catch us.

maxverstappen1 love you baby sis ❤️ liked by author yn love you baby bro

lando be safe buggy ❤️ liked by author user even lando is fed up with charles bs

carlossainz55 you'll have to stop hanging around ferrari's garage you knoooow ❤️ liked by author

iamrebecad cutieeees <3 ❤️ liked by author

comments section has been limited

liked by yn, iamrebecad, alexsaintmlux and 1,022,544 users

charles_leclerc16 one and only

yn love you babyboy ❤️ liked by author

maxverstappen1 watch out

alexsaintmlux 🔒 couple goals ❤️ user whos this and why does only charles follow her ? user rumour has it they met in Maranello last month user yall dont know these people bffr

carlossainz55 they grow up so fast charles_leclerc16 stop acting like you're her dad carlossainz55 she's my daughter for real

lando cute bugs ❤️ liked by author

june 2024

liked by lando, oscarpiastri, carlossainz55 and 5,665,899 users

yn New album "Chemtrails over the country club" out now! Check it out, everyone! Love you all forever.

user are they even dating anymore?

user baby girl dropped a whole breakup album and didn't even break up

user its giving chayn ending soon... but i cant prove

maxverstappen1 gag it! ❤️ liked by author user help who teched max that word??

lando waiting for it!! yn its already out???? lando you know what... user PLEASE LET ME KNOOOOW

tatemcrae SEATED ❤️ liked by author

taylorswift my dearest little blonde, this one is magical! ❤️ liked by author

liked by lando, oscarpiastri, user and 500,444 users

f1gossip Spotted: our favorite Monégasque heartbreaker tangled up with a mysterious brunette (again!). For legal reasons, we won’t be revealing the name of his elusive flame — though Saint surely rings a divine bell. 😇

Now, while we’re still clocked into this tea shift, let’s unpack the romantic rollercoaster that's left us clutching our pearls. Judging by yn’s latest album, things weren’t exactly smooth sailing. In How to Disappear, she writes:

“I know he's in over his head but I love that man like nobody can.”

We’re sensing some toxic devotion energy…

And then there’s Happiness is a Butterfly:

“If he’s a serial killer, then what’s the worst that could happen to a girl that’s already hurt?”

Sound the alarms — that is not what Leclerc’s PR team had in mind when marketing the Perfect Couple™.

To top it all off? Yn swerved every relationship-related question in her latest interview, avoiding any mention of Leclerc like she was dodging Monaco’s turn 6.

Breakup confirmed? Not officially. But this silence screams louder than an engine rev on race day. 🏁💔

user girl’s been obsessed for years… called him her first and hopefully last. and now this?? rip chayn nation

user lando and oscar watchu doin here ? user they're messy...

user kinda chocked how max hasnt kicked his ass yet

user this bitch

user honestly? she has been my fav wag for years... i hope she's okay.

user can’t believe y’all are still riding for her… she’s been out here for years saying she might be a lil toxic and obsessed, and you still act like she’s always in the right?? Maybe the guy just wants peace user yeaaaa she's literally admitted to have a bit of a problem. let charles breathe omg. user okay charles burners accounts

user lets hope this new one is less obsessive with him

user yall charles fans are just boymoms i cant

texts between yn and charles

♪ The only exception - Paramore

liked by iamrebecad, alexsaintmlux, pierregasly and 1,221,555 users

charles_leclerc16 my alex <3 alexsaintmlux

user cant believe you even got leo into this bs

user remember when it was "my yn"? comment deleted by author

lando foul one mate charles_leclerc16 let's focus on our own business mate lando sure

alexsaintmlux je t’aime, mon bébé ❤️ liked by author user girl read the room user cant believe now her insta is open lmao

iamrebecad couple goals ❤️ liked by author alexsaintmlux my cupid user the nerve

♪ Silver Springs - 2004 remaster - Fletwood Mac

liked by carlossainz55, iamrebecad, oscarpiastri, lando and 5,025,555 users

yn Deluxe album is out now! I poured all my love into this album and I truly hope you adore it. I’d also like to take this moment to say that I’ve received so many kind messages over the past few days (P.S. I tried to read every single one). Thank you for the support — I’ll always be here.

user i'm pretty sure her team wrote that last post… she don’t talk like that

user poor yn… hope ur okay (if u somehow see this 💔)

user "time casts a spell on you but you won’t forget me’ like HELLOOO the emotional damage he did to her? user bffr she didnt even wrote this post

lando you're the greatest

oscarpiastri whos this DIVA

maxverstappen1 love you babysis

carlossainz55 coolest verstappen out there!

user she's not even replying to her friends or brother :( user not even liking their comments :(

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

it was december 2024. every trace of you on charles’s instagram was gone. posts, comments, tags — wiped clean like you’d never existed. his feed had turned into a glossy shrine to his new girl, every image meticulously curated by his pr team. even your most innocent comments on random posts, from before you ever dated, had mysteriously vanished. it was that bad. but the world would move on… or pretend to.

since the day charles ended things, you’d struggled to breathe. not metaphorically — literally. each inhale felt like dragging yourself through quicksand. you couldn’t eat. couldn’t smile. couldn’t pretend everything was fine. your closest friends, lando and oscar (by force of proximity), tried everything: junk food binges at 2 a.m., sunrise runs you reluctantly joined, desperate late-night calls. even max once attempted to bribe you out of bed with an all-expenses-paid spa weekend. nothing worked.

charles was your one and only. you’d genuinely believed you were just “going through a rough patch.” then he ghosted — no explanations, no texts, no calls — leaving you dissecting every laugh, every shared sunrise, hunting for the glitch. were you too intense? did the age gap finally become too much? was your career somehow to blame? questions piled up with no answers. charles was gone, and he made sure never to look back.

under full management control, your own instagram had turned into a digital puppet: recycled smiles, staged captions, nostalgic throwbacks with no real emotion behind them. your calendar swelled with appearances, promo shoots, album updates, and vague tour hints — others writing the chapters you’d lost control of.

then came the apex of absurdity: a performance booked for the fia’s 75th anniversary. as if forcing you to share the same air that still smelled faintly of charles’s cologne wasn’t enough. but maybe it was time. sooner or later, you’d have to wake up.

somewhere between late december and the jagged start of january, you did something you hadn’t dared in weeks. you opened instagram explore page. and there they were — post after post of charles and his new girl, smiles you’d once worn, now repainted by someone else.

shit.

you didn’t want to see it. you didn’t mean to. but you did.

and something inside you snapped.

“what do i gain from crying over him?” you thought, your mind a blank echo chamber. “did the world stop spinning?”

it didn’t. and maybe… maybe you needed to start spinning again too.

you’d stayed quiet long enough.

as the final grand prix of the year approached, a current of defiance surged through your veins. maybe it was the sound of engines. maybe it was the way the world kept turning without you. maybe you simply craved your moment back. whatever it was, you woke up and chose war, not peace.

you arrived at the track dressed to kill —not for him, not for pity, but for yourself. your signature stilettos, designed by the one and only christian louboutin just for you clicked like punctuation marks across the paddock, each step trailing confidence you didn't know you still had and chaos, 'cause theres no way you did not go there just to put gasoline into the fire, in equal measure.

down in the mclaren garage, laughter echoed off concrete walls. you slid into a seat between lando and oscar, leaning in as the three of you traded insider jokes that felt like home. oscar — someone that stepped up for you in a way you couldn't quite understand why, but he was there, trying to make you be you again; maybe it was the fact that he knew how awful is the feeling of being cheated on... or maybe he just wanted to see you happy — dared lando to something quite stupid that made lando nearly snort it out when you whispered: “loser buys dinner.” mechanics and engineers paused to watch the scene, the marketing team already having their phones out.

lando sneaked up behind you and draped a safety helmet over your head, making you shriek and punch his arm. oscar seized the moment, teasing “careful, danger’s cooking here.” you shot him a wicked grin, traced a finger along the helmet’s visor, and quipped, “i’ll take my chances.” they howled, crowning you “chief troublemaker.”

then the reporters swarmed. flashes erupted. one finally asked, their tone sharp as a thumb screw: “are you having an affair with one of them?”

with a malicious smile you raised an eyebrow and smirked, your voice low and playful: “they’re just good friends. very good friends... i wouldn't dare to choose between them so we'll have to stay like that”

lando feigned indignation, oscar dramatically clutched his chest, and you let out a clear, ringing laugh that scattered any pity in the air.

you waved at fans as you passed and paused for quickfire interviews, your eyes glittering with mischief. then, like sprinkling salt over an open wound, you dropped the final line: “i was invited by my dear friend carlos sainz—but let’s just say i’m saint-fully banned from entering that holy garage.”

you turned to the camera, lips curled in challenge: “carlitos, if you’re watching this… buena suerte, mwaaa!”

you didn’t simply walk the paddock. you owned every square inch of it, like you used to do before. maybe you were back to yourself.

you greeted team principals with a mischief expression, acting like you owned the place, cracked jokes with ferrari engineers — not daring to enter their garage —, and of course slipped into the red bull garage to plant a quick hug on max’s shoulder. “good luck, babybro,” you whispered, your voice warm and supportive. and before you left: “my heart’s orange today... you know”

red flags waved like flames on your way back to mclaren's garage.

somewhere in the blur of flashbulbs and engine roars, you felt it again.

the light shot diamonds from his eyes — as you once stated in your song Like a tattoo.

charles. watching. still.

you didn’t flinch. didn’t look back. didn’t break. he doesn't deserve me, you repeated like a mantra.

liked by lando, oscarpiastri, carlossainz55 and 5,885,666 users

yn just 3 bitches tellin each other exaaaaactly. btw very proud of my (big) babybro, also carlitos last podium with ferrari! everyone. lets just love each other. xx

lando missed you bug oscarpiastri you literally knock on her door everyday lando shut up yn love yaaaaaalllllll my pals mates

user omg THE REAL YN IS BACK IN TOWN

user she was kinda shady towards alex/charles today.... lmao user well.. they deserve it.

carlossainz55 never ending beef with ferrari? you look soooo good in red user why he's flirting with her, mate you have a gf user they are very good friends. why are you trying to imply a fliting ?

oscarpiastri exaaaaaaaactly diva

maxverstappen1 please tell me you wore a jacket over that dress . please tell me you were not alone with those two. yn well i wont maxverstappen1 say sike rn

lando posted a story oscarpiastri posted a story

caption(1): they're forming a duo now @/oscarpiastri @/ yn

caption (2): did lando just outcunt yn

𖡡 monaco

liked by alexsaintmlux and 1,558,665 users

charles_leclerc16 coming back home to have some rest, may 2025 season be greater. thank you for always being with me, my alex <3 love you, my one and only.

alexsaintmlux j'etaime <3 ❤️ liked by author

iamrebecad stop stealing her away from meeeeee alexsaintmlux lets runaway becs ❤️ liked by author

pierregasly you were great mate! ❤️ liked by author

you step out of the car feeling a familiar flutter in your stomach. you look incredible, but nerves are twisting like roller-coaster loops. of course you have studied the seating plan like it was a final exam —he’s front row, eyes going to be glued to you when you perform. the thought is part thrill, part panic.

two weeks ago you sat cross-legged on your living-room floor with coffee and headphones, refining your set list with your manager, trying to decide what to go for with this performance. obviously, two of your heaviest hitters, Sports car and Like a tattoo, plus a surprise mash-up of fan favorites. it felt just right: enough to light the room on fire with a twist only you could pull off.

the red carpet stuns as your gown flows behind you. cameras erupt, microphones thrust forward. you tilt your head to laugh at a reporter’s question and keep moving, slipping past the velvet ropes into the hushed grandeur beyond.

when it’s your time, the opening chords of “don’t blame me” roll out and you can’t resist a genuine, full-on smile. your cheeks flush at the memory of how deeply you once fell, every lyric felt like a whispered confession. by the second chorus, you’re lost in the melody, head tipped back, soul bared to the crowd.

the beat shifts into “sports car” and dancers carve around you with perfect precision. you ride the rhythm, that mischievous grin tugging at your lips as you sing every word like a private joke. it’s pure pop perfection and you dare to remember the scenes that inspired the writing process of this song. you smile.

to close, you pour your heart into “like a tattoo.” when you sing “the light shot diamonds from his eyes” your smile becomes electric, unmissable from any corner. you raise your hand like you’re reaching for him but let the moment hang there, deliciously unresolved, the way he let things end.

afterward, you drift through the crowd of staff members, torn between choosing to sit at your brother’s table with red bull and the your duo at mclaren. you shrug and think, why not add more fuel to the fire? and slide into the seat between lando and oscar, instantly feeling their buzz.

the host spots you three and leans in, voice smooth, you didn't know what was coming: “look at this little setup: two ripe papayas and one pop princess. with all that heat, who needs a safety car? guess y'all are going to need some serious lubrication…”

you and oscar burst into stifled smile. lando leans back, uncontainable smile that hang ear to ear. and a few feet away, charles leclerc watches with tightly pressed lips, not even a flicker of a smile. yes, that was caught on camera.

as the night caves in, you don't even know if you wanna head home or if you just wanna hang around those two a little more. they just accept it.

liked by lando, oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and 8,999,544 users

yn not every single song is about you. happy to be here today! (omw to buy some lub, someone say i might need it)

maxverstappen1 if i could choose one of your songs to disappear forever it probably be sports car… lando why mate thats my fave ❤️ liked by author maxverstappen1 know your limits, norris

lando you're kinda cool ❤️ liked by author yn only cool? oscarpiastri no funny business today for you ❤️ liked by author

oscarpiastri i voted for orange dress ❤️ liked by author user your fashion taste sucks... glad she choose it herself maxverstappen1 not you too piastri

carlossainz55 blue suits you sm more ❤️ liked by author yn thats not the versainz i ship btw carlossainz55 get over it, please.

iamrebecad divaaaaa

user (redacted) doesnt read the room lmao

user glad to see you glowing yn! ❤️ liked by author

sabrinacarpenter gagged. lysm my bbgirl! ❤️ liked by author

liked by user, user, user and 1,669,314 users

f1gossiper Throuple sighting?? More trouble in paradise?? Yn Verstappen, Lando Norris & Oscar Piastri were spotted cruising the streets of Milan last night, and word is the blonde bombshell was trading kisses and cuddles with both mclaren boys 👀💥

Did anyone see this coming? Is it just a wild friendship or full-on #trisal energy? D rop your thoughts — who’s ready for this love triangle meltdown?

user shes a lucky bitch omg

user honestly couldnt care less

user ferrari's golden boy for two newbies in the game... it aint the upgrade yall think it is. but who am i right?

[sainztropez]

✧ mr. wrong - smau ✧

⋆° summary: in the spotlight of Formula 1 and heartbreak pop, yn and charles leclerc’s whirlwind romance spirals from “first and last love” to cryptic posts, bitter lyrics, and emotional fallout. love burns fast on the paddock but heartbreak burns faster.

⋆° pairings: charles leclerc x verstappen!singer!reader x ? ⋆° genre: some angst, some fluff (it'll come). lots of drama and mainly musical. ⋆° warnings: cheating, swear words.

part 2 here

2020

liked by charles_leclerc16, maxverstappen1 and 1.524.000 users

yn he finally grew a pair and asked me out. my 1st and last. tagged charles_leclerc16

maxverstappen1 please leave me this yn you were my cupid maxverstappen1 lying like that? ❤️ liked by author

user so no one's gonna talk about the age difference

user cuties

user hope to see yn around the paddock sometime! ❤️ liked by author

lando mf finally did it yn stooooop charles_leclerc16 get over it i'm her first love

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc16 and 2,000,000 users

yn Sports Car single out now! Check out.

charles_leclerc16 my yn ❤️

charles_leclerc16 love you babygirl maxverstappen1 gross charles_leclerc16 love you too babyboy ❤️ liked by author yn thats the lestappen i ship charles_leclerc16 you're not for real

lando cool car ❤️ liked by author

carlossainz55 charles_leclerc16 i'm in your walls charles_leclerc16 what's with the jealousy? last time i checked her last name was verstappen not sainz... yn stop it you two!!!

user i'm so jealous of charles... why does he get to have her all to himself he doesn't deserve yn

user leclerc i wasn't familiar with your game

user "we can uh uh in it while you drive real far" wheres my baby yn? that sang about being "Enchanted to meet her prince"? user she's always been a lowkey freak with charles... user wait am i behind on chayn lore? user girrrrrl she used to be a bug about him, saying he was her first and last crush. even max got tired of it and eventually set them up lmao user a woman that years is a woman that earns!

liked by user, user, user and 125,002 users

f1gossip Legendary singer Y/n (born Yn Verstappen) talks about her relationship with Ferrari's golden boy Charles Leclerc. "So... How do I start it? I mean, since my first album it's pretty obvious that I'm in love with Charles for a really long long time. I started bugging him about going on a date with me since last year and he wasn't being really easy — eventually he gave up and asked me out. I've never been happier." — says Yn to Jimmy Fallon in a interview last night. The singer also explains some of the songs that appear on her latest album and claims Charles as her inspirational muse. "To be really honest he's always been my muse... ever since Enchanted and You belong with me, which is a song that I'm kind of shy about now that everyone knows I was being petty. So, well... if you ask me about the songs in my new album, I'll probably have the same answer."

user how's this any related with racing?

user i can't believe people complain about this account... there's lots of accounts that only posts race stats and stuff like that. this one is for gossip bitches like me... ❤️ liked by author

user am i the only one that thinks yn is kinda the giver in this relationship? i mean she's always supporting him and i don't see the same user ngl i kinda agree user atp i think shes obsessed with having him

february 2024 - almost 4 years into the relationship

liked by user, user, user and 154,000 users

f1wagsnews Trouble in paradise? Charles Leclerc spotted with mysterious brunette woman in Maranello. Is our Yn suddenly capable of being in two places at once? Has our Yn ditched her signature golden locks?

user charles leclerc is just a man anyway

user ughhh I swear she'd still stay with him even after he cheated user you dont even know if its him user regardless i aint wrong mmhm

comments section closed

texts between yn and charles

march 2024

♪ Like a tattoo - yn

liked by carlossainz55, iamrebecad, oscarpiastri and 4,254,449 users

yn best four years of my life (ps. leo loves me more)

charles_leclerc16 j'taime bébé (ps. he doesn't) yn he knows mommy charles_leclerc16 i know too yn stop... pr's gonna catch us.

maxverstappen1 love you baby sis ❤️ liked by author yn love you baby bro

lando be safe buggy ❤️ liked by author user even lando is fed up with charles bs

carlossainz55 you'll have to stop hanging around ferrari's garage you knoooow ❤️ liked by author

iamrebecad cutieeees <3 ❤️ liked by author

comments section has been limited

liked by yn, iamrebecad, alexsaintmlux and 1,022,544 users

charles_leclerc16 one and only

yn love you babyboy ❤️ liked by author

maxverstappen1 watch out

alexsaintmlux 🔒 couple goals ❤️ user whos this and why does only charles follow her ? user rumour has it they met in Maranello last month user yall dont know these people bffr

carlossainz55 they grow up so fast charles_leclerc16 stop acting like you're her dad carlossainz55 she's my daughter for real

lando cute bugs ❤️ liked by author

june 2024

liked by lando, oscarpiastri, carlossainz55 and 5,665,899 users

yn New album "Chemtrails over the country club" out now! Check it out, everyone! Love you all forever.

user are they even dating anymore?

user baby girl dropped a whole breakup album and didn't even break up

user its giving chayn ending soon... but i cant prove

maxverstappen1 gag it! ❤️ liked by author user help who teched max that word??

lando waiting for it!! yn its already out???? lando you know what... user PLEASE LET ME KNOOOOW

tatemcrae SEATED ❤️ liked by author

taylorswift my dearest little blonde, this one is magical! ❤️ liked by author

liked by lando, oscarpiastri, user and 500,444 users

f1gossip Spotted: our favorite Monégasque heartbreaker tangled up with a mysterious brunette (again!). For legal reasons, we won’t be revealing the name of his elusive flame — though Saint surely rings a divine bell. 😇

Now, while we’re still clocked into this tea shift, let’s unpack the romantic rollercoaster that's left us clutching our pearls. Judging by yn’s latest album, things weren’t exactly smooth sailing. In How to Disappear, she writes:

“I know he's in over his head but I love that man like nobody can.”

We’re sensing some toxic devotion energy…

And then there’s Happiness is a Butterfly:

“If he’s a serial killer, then what’s the worst that could happen to a girl that’s already hurt?”

Sound the alarms — that is not what Leclerc’s PR team had in mind when marketing the Perfect Couple™.

To top it all off? Yn swerved every relationship-related question in her latest interview, avoiding any mention of Leclerc like she was dodging Monaco’s turn 6.

Breakup confirmed? Not officially. But this silence screams louder than an engine rev on race day. 🏁💔

user girl’s been obsessed for years… called him her first and hopefully last. and now this?? rip chayn nation

user lando and oscar watchu doin here ? user they're messy...

user kinda chocked how max hasnt kicked his ass yet

user this bitch

user honestly? she has been my fav wag for years... i hope she's okay.

user can’t believe y’all are still riding for her… she’s been out here for years saying she might be a lil toxic and obsessed, and you still act like she’s always in the right?? Maybe the guy just wants peace user yeaaaa she's literally admitted to have a bit of a problem. let charles breathe omg. user okay charles burners accounts

user lets hope this new one is less obsessive with him

user yall charles fans are just boymoms i cant

texts between yn and charles

♪ The only exception - Paramore

liked by iamrebecad, alexsaintmlux, pierregasly and 1,221,555 users

charles_leclerc16 my alex <3 alexsaintmlux

user cant believe you even got leo into this bs

user remember when it was "my yn"? comment deleted by author

lando foul one mate charles_leclerc16 let's focus on our own business mate lando sure

alexsaintmlux je t’aime, mon bébé ❤️ liked by author user girl read the room user cant believe now her insta is open lmao

iamrebecad couple goals ❤️ liked by author alexsaintmlux my cupid user the nerve

♪ Silver Springs - 2004 remaster - Fletwood Mac

liked by carlossainz55, iamrebecad, oscarpiastri, lando and 5,025,555 users

yn Deluxe album is out now! I poured all my love into this album and I truly hope you adore it. I’d also like to take this moment to say that I’ve received so many kind messages over the past few days (P.S. I tried to read every single one). Thank you for the support — I’ll always be here.

user i'm pretty sure her team wrote that last post… she don’t talk like that

user poor yn… hope ur okay (if u somehow see this 💔)

user "time casts a spell on you but you won’t forget me’ like HELLOOO the emotional damage he did to her? user bffr she didnt even wrote this post

lando you're the greatest

oscarpiastri whos this DIVA

maxverstappen1 love you babysis

carlossainz55 coolest verstappen out there!

user she's not even replying to her friends or brother :( user not even liking their comments :(

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

it was december 2024. every trace of you on charles’s instagram was gone. posts, comments, tags — wiped clean like you’d never existed. his feed had turned into a glossy shrine to his new girl, every image meticulously curated by his pr team. even your most innocent comments on random posts, from before you ever dated, had mysteriously vanished. it was that bad. but the world would move on… or pretend to.

since the day charles ended things, you’d struggled to breathe. not metaphorically — literally. each inhale felt like dragging yourself through quicksand. you couldn’t eat. couldn’t smile. couldn’t pretend everything was fine. your closest friends, lando and oscar (by force of proximity), tried everything: junk food binges at 2 a.m., sunrise runs you reluctantly joined, desperate late-night calls. even max once attempted to bribe you out of bed with an all-expenses-paid spa weekend. nothing worked.

charles was your one and only. you’d genuinely believed you were just “going through a rough patch.” then he ghosted — no explanations, no texts, no calls — leaving you dissecting every laugh, every shared sunrise, hunting for the glitch. were you too intense? did the age gap finally become too much? was your career somehow to blame? questions piled up with no answers. charles was gone, and he made sure never to look back.

under full management control, your own instagram had turned into a digital puppet: recycled smiles, staged captions, nostalgic throwbacks with no real emotion behind them. your calendar swelled with appearances, promo shoots, album updates, and vague tour hints — others writing the chapters you’d lost control of.

then came the apex of absurdity: a performance booked for the fia’s 75th anniversary. as if forcing you to share the same air that still smelled faintly of charles’s cologne wasn’t enough. but maybe it was time. sooner or later, you’d have to wake up.

somewhere between late december and the jagged start of january, you did something you hadn’t dared in weeks. you opened instagram explore page. and there they were — post after post of charles and his new girl, smiles you’d once worn, now repainted by someone else.

shit.

you didn’t want to see it. you didn’t mean to. but you did.

and something inside you snapped.

“what do i gain from crying over him?” you thought, your mind a blank echo chamber. “did the world stop spinning?”

it didn’t. and maybe… maybe you needed to start spinning again too.

you’d stayed quiet long enough.

as the final grand prix of the year approached, a current of defiance surged through your veins. maybe it was the sound of engines. maybe it was the way the world kept turning without you. maybe you simply craved your moment back. whatever it was, you woke up and chose war, not peace.

you arrived at the track dressed to kill —not for him, not for pity, but for yourself. your signature stilettos, designed by the one and only christian louboutin just for you clicked like punctuation marks across the paddock, each step trailing confidence you didn't know you still had and chaos, 'cause theres no way you did not go there just to put gasoline into the fire, in equal measure.

down in the mclaren garage, laughter echoed off concrete walls. you slid into a seat between lando and oscar, leaning in as the three of you traded insider jokes that felt like home. oscar — someone that stepped up for you in a way you couldn't quite understand why, but he was there, trying to make you be you again; maybe it was the fact that he knew how awful is the feeling of being cheated on... or maybe he just wanted to see you happy — dared lando to something quite stupid that made lando nearly snort it out when you whispered: “loser buys dinner.” mechanics and engineers paused to watch the scene, the marketing team already having their phones out.

lando sneaked up behind you and draped a safety helmet over your head, making you shriek and punch his arm. oscar seized the moment, teasing “careful, danger’s cooking here.” you shot him a wicked grin, traced a finger along the helmet’s visor, and quipped, “i’ll take my chances.” they howled, crowning you “chief troublemaker.”

then the reporters swarmed. flashes erupted. one finally asked, their tone sharp as a thumb screw: “are you having an affair with one of them?”

with a malicious smile you raised an eyebrow and smirked, your voice low and playful: “they’re just good friends. very good friends... i wouldn't dare to choose between them so we'll have to stay like that”

lando feigned indignation, oscar dramatically clutched his chest, and you let out a clear, ringing laugh that scattered any pity in the air.

you waved at fans as you passed and paused for quickfire interviews, your eyes glittering with mischief. then, like sprinkling salt over an open wound, you dropped the final line: “i was invited by my dear friend carlos sainz—but let’s just say i’m saint-fully banned from entering that holy garage.”

you turned to the camera, lips curled in challenge: “carlitos, if you’re watching this… buena suerte, mwaaa!”

you didn’t simply walk the paddock. you owned every square inch of it, like you used to do before. maybe you were back to yourself.

you greeted team principals with a mischief expression, acting like you owned the place, cracked jokes with ferrari engineers — not daring to enter their garage —, and of course slipped into the red bull garage to plant a quick hug on max’s shoulder. “good luck, babybro,” you whispered, your voice warm and supportive. and before you left: “my heart’s orange today... you know”

red flags waved like flames on your way back to mclaren's garage.

somewhere in the blur of flashbulbs and engine roars, you felt it again.

the light shot diamonds from his eyes — as you once stated in your song Like a tattoo.

charles. watching. still.

you didn’t flinch. didn’t look back. didn’t break. he doesn't deserve me, you repeated like a mantra.

liked by lando, oscarpiastri, carlossainz55 and 5,885,666 users

yn just 3 bitches tellin each other exaaaaactly. btw very proud of my (big) babybro, also carlitos last podium with ferrari! everyone. lets just love each other. xx

lando missed you bug oscarpiastri you literally knock on her door everyday lando shut up yn love yaaaaaalllllll my pals mates

user omg THE REAL YN IS BACK IN TOWN

user she was kinda shady towards alex/charles today.... lmao user well.. they deserve it.

carlossainz55 never ending beef with ferrari? you look soooo good in red user why he's flirting with her, mate you have a gf user they are very good friends. why are you trying to imply a fliting ?

oscarpiastri exaaaaaaaactly diva

maxverstappen1 please tell me you wore a jacket over that dress . please tell me you were not alone with those two. yn well i wont maxverstappen1 say sike rn

lando posted a story oscarpiastri posted a story

caption(1): they're forming a duo now @/oscarpiastri @/ yn

caption (2): did lando just outcunt yn

𖡡 monaco

liked by alexsaintmlux and 1,558,665 users

charles_leclerc16 coming back home to have some rest, may 2025 season be greater. thank you for always being with me, my alex <3 love you, my one and only.

alexsaintmlux j'etaime <3 ❤️ liked by author

iamrebecad stop stealing her away from meeeeee alexsaintmlux lets runaway becs ❤️ liked by author

pierregasly you were great mate! ❤️ liked by author

you step out of the car feeling a familiar flutter in your stomach. you look incredible, but nerves are twisting like roller-coaster loops. of course you have studied the seating plan like it was a final exam —he’s front row, eyes going to be glued to you when you perform. the thought is part thrill, part panic.

two weeks ago you sat cross-legged on your living-room floor with coffee and headphones, refining your set list with your manager, trying to decide what to go for with this performance. obviously, two of your heaviest hitters, Sports car and Like a tattoo, plus a surprise mash-up of fan favorites. it felt just right: enough to light the room on fire with a twist only you could pull off.

the red carpet stuns as your gown flows behind you. cameras erupt, microphones thrust forward. you tilt your head to laugh at a reporter’s question and keep moving, slipping past the velvet ropes into the hushed grandeur beyond.

when it’s your time, the opening chords of “don’t blame me” roll out and you can’t resist a genuine, full-on smile. your cheeks flush at the memory of how deeply you once fell, every lyric felt like a whispered confession. by the second chorus, you’re lost in the melody, head tipped back, soul bared to the crowd.

the beat shifts into “sports car” and dancers carve around you with perfect precision. you ride the rhythm, that mischievous grin tugging at your lips as you sing every word like a private joke. it’s pure pop perfection and you dare to remember the scenes that inspired the writing process of this song. you smile.

to close, you pour your heart into “like a tattoo.” when you sing “the light shot diamonds from his eyes” your smile becomes electric, unmissable from any corner. you raise your hand like you’re reaching for him but let the moment hang there, deliciously unresolved, the way he let things end.

afterward, you drift through the crowd of staff members, torn between choosing to sit at your brother’s table with red bull and the your duo at mclaren. you shrug and think, why not add more fuel to the fire? and slide into the seat between lando and oscar, instantly feeling their buzz.

the host spots you three and leans in, voice smooth, you didn't know what was coming: “look at this little setup: two ripe papayas and one pop princess. with all that heat, who needs a safety car? guess y'all are going to need some serious lubrication…”

you and oscar burst into stifled smile. lando leans back, uncontainable smile that hang ear to ear. and a few feet away, charles leclerc watches with tightly pressed lips, not even a flicker of a smile. yes, that was caught on camera.

as the night caves in, you don't even know if you wanna head home or if you just wanna hang around those two a little more. they just accept it.

liked by lando, oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and 8,999,544 users

yn not every single song is about you. happy to be here today! (omw to buy some lub, someone say i might need it)

maxverstappen1 if i could choose one of your songs to disappear forever it probably be sports car… lando why mate thats my fave ❤️ liked by author maxverstappen1 know your limits, norris

lando you're kinda cool ❤️ liked by author yn only cool? oscarpiastri no funny business today for you ❤️ liked by author

oscarpiastri i voted for orange dress ❤️ liked by author user your fashion taste sucks... glad she choose it herself maxverstappen1 not you too piastri

carlossainz55 blue suits you sm more ❤️ liked by author yn thats not the versainz i ship btw carlossainz55 get over it, please.

iamrebecad divaaaaa

user (redacted) doesnt read the room lmao

user glad to see you glowing yn! ❤️ liked by author

sabrinacarpenter gagged. lysm my bbgirl! ❤️ liked by author

liked by user, user, user and 1,669,314 users

f1gossiper Throuple sighting?? More trouble in paradise?? Yn Verstappen, Lando Norris & Oscar Piastri were spotted cruising the streets of Milan last night, and word is the blonde bombshell was trading kisses and cuddles with both mclaren boys 👀💥

Did anyone see this coming? Is it just a wild friendship or full-on #trisal energy? D rop your thoughts — who’s ready for this love triangle meltdown?

user shes a lucky bitch omg

user honestly couldnt care less

user ferrari's golden boy for two newbies in the game... it aint the upgrade yall think it is. but who am i right?

[sainztropez]

[sainztropez]

(by florian.grieger)

[sainztropez]

sea, swallow me

[sainztropez]

[sainztropez]

[sainztropez]

i want the only one i can't have.

[sainztropez]

{Words by Anaïs Nin, from The Diary Of Anais Nin, Vol. 4 (1944-1947) / Cynthia Cruz from diagnosis,The glimmering room}

[sainztropez]

Anaïs Nin, from The Voice

[sainztropez]

[sainztropez]

“He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

— Wuthering Heights

[sainztropez]

“Mas o que não associo eu a ela? O que não a traz à minha memória? Se olho para estas lajes, vejo nelas gravadas as suas feições! Em cada nuvem, em cada árvore, na escuridão da noite, refletida de dia em cada objeto, por toda a parte eu vejo a sua imagem! Nos rostos mais vulgares de homens e de mulheres, até as minhas feições me enganam com a semelhança. O mundo inteiro é uma terrível coleção de testemunhas de que um dia ela realmente existiu e a perdi para sempre!”

— Heathcliff, O Morro dos Ventos Uivantes