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formulawolff · 3 months

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el tango de roxanne - t.w.

pairing: figure skater!reader x toto wolff

word count: 2.8k

warnings: cursing, angst, (slight) age gap relationships, (slight) casual friends to lovers arc, allusions to smut, toto being a jealous fuck, yadayadayada

song inspo: el tango de roxanne by ewan mcgregor, jacek koman, and josé feliciano (if you couldn’t tell by the title hehe)

a/n: if you haven’t watched tessa virtue & scott moir’s iconic moulin rouge routine… where have you been? anyways. this fic was inspired by a request & this routine! i highly recommend watching it hehe. also idc if 2024 is summer olympics… this is my au! let me be!

he couldn’t bear it.

not for one more second.

yet, he couldn’t muster the strength to look away. to avert his gaze from what was unfolding on the ice below, as you glided so beautifully across, your partner in tow.

fuck, you were so breathtaking in this moment.

the way your hair was pulled so neatly into an intricate bun, your features enhanced by makeup. the way your eyes shine as you face your partner, several feet separating the two of you. the way your ensemble sparkled under the intense lighting, the skirt fluttering ever so slightly.

this is where you shone.

like a star in the night, bursting to the brim with nothing but pure, bright light.

while he may excel in the paddock, the rink was your element. where you truly belonged. where you were as cool as the ice, calm and collected as the dramatic flair of the strings amplified your movements, the audience roaring in response.

as you move, it’s magnetizing, the austrian shifting in his seat as your partner wraps you up in his embrace, holding you tightly as the two of you sail across the ice.

his jaw clenches as he notices the way your partner’s hand grasp the exposed skin of your back and shoulders, the routine almost executed perfectly as the music continues.

fuck, how he absolutely despised the way your bodies molded together. the way he held you, lifting you into the air, or onto his thighs, keeping you in close proximity.

of course, he has to remind himself that this is strictly professional. that there is nothing romantic going on between you and your partner, jack probst.

well, not like he could really be upset either.

there was nothing going on between the two of you.

at least, that’s what toto wolff thought.

the two of you met at a cocktail party for the launch of the 2022 formula one season, at the mercedes headquarters in brackley. although you were quite new to the world of racing, you were a plus one, as your best friend invited you to tag along with her. since she was part of the marketing team for mercedes, she had an in.

although you were terrified beyond belief of the idea of mingling with engineers, investors, and well, the drivers, you had reluctantly agreed to come with. as a prominent figure in the realm of ice skating, you were aware that you at least had one thing in common with the racing world.

in order to be successful, every little aspect of the routine had to be executed flawlessly.

just like the engineers and mechanics had to prep the car in order to race, you had to ensure that you had the right skates.

just like how the pit crew had to time their stops perfectly without fail, you had to maintain rhythm with the music, so that the routine would flow.

additionally, you were very similar to the drivers.

you yearned to step foot on that podium, no matter the cost.

at that party, you happened to run into the team principal and ceo of mercedes, mr. torger wolff. the two of you struck up a conversation, the team principal complimenting your career, as well as your dress.

although your best friend thought he was flirting, you had brushed it off, stating that he was just being polite.

however, toto wolff was not being polite.

he wanted you, oh so desperately.

and he was patient. he was going to wait until you were ready.

even if watching your routine with jack absolutely tugged and squeezed at his aching heart.

even if every fiber of his being screamed at him to look away before that jealousy burned through, the flames licking at every part of his being.

there was no denying you had effortless chemistry with jack, as the media speculated the two of you had been an item for years.

however, what toto did not know was that you were in a similar predicament.

after that fateful night in brackley, the team principal reached out to you via email. you wondered how he even got his hands on your email address, but your best friend gave that away with little to almost no interrogation.

allegedly, toto was interested if you, completely allured and entranced by your presence. so, he approached your best friend, inquiring about your contact information. not wanting to give him your number right away, she simply provided him with your email instead, urging him to “slide into those dms.”

so, he did. the two of you hit it off immediately, emailing one another constantly. after a couple of days, he mustered up the courage to ask you politely for your number. with no hesitation, you gave it to him.

from that moment on, a friendship blossomed between the two of you. although he was a bit older, he had this charm that pulled drew you in, wanting to learn more and more about him. also, formula one intrigued you, as you wanted to learn more about the sport.

he showed you the ins and outs of racing, while you educated him on the graces and virtues of skating. a few months into your friendship, he invited you to a grand prix, offering an all-exclusive ticket for the weekend. all you had to do was say the word and it was yours.

however, there was only one thing holding you back.

if you went, you would miss a week or so of practice. which, wouldn’t go over well with jack. especially during the initial stages of the season.

and even more so, with the olympics quickly approaching, you would feel guilty missing so much time.

so, you ended up passing on his offer.

which, hurt his pride just a tad, but not enough to deter him from his end goal.

he was going to have you.

one day.

he just wasn’t sure when.

eventually, you accepted one of his many offers to attend a grand prix. settling on the 2023 monaco grand prix, where dutch driver max verstappen claimed victory.

somehow, someway, the two of you ended up in bed together that night.

you weren’t quite sure how, and neither was he, but you mutually agreed to never speak on it again.

no matter how much it was on your mind.

which, was almost every second of every single day.

on his end, it was nearly detrimental, consuming his every waking thought whole.

to make matters worse, that night in monaco awoke something that you had been trying to keep hidden for months.

you were hopelessly and utterly in love with the team principal.

even if he was twenty-five years older than you. even if his schedule was jam-packed with meetings every minute of every hour of every day. even if he could only call you every so often. even if he was a single father, recently divorced after nearly a decade of marriage. even if there was something unspoken between the two of you, the tension blanketing over like a thick haze.

what toto could never know was that you pictured him right there with you, gliding along the ice, his hands roaming your body. you could almost feel him murmuring in your ear how beautiful you were like this, blissfully lost in the music.

no matter the circumstance. no matter the soreness lingering in your muscles or the sheer terror of falling or missing a beat, that thought alone is what got you though the routine.

it never failed.

and tonight, it was not going to fail you.

despite the stakes at hand, you were a natural at this, showing no signs of fear as the final notes rang in your ears.

this was it.

the end of the routine, jack dipping your body as your head rolls back, dramatically falling.

there’s a beat of silence, before the entire arena explodes.

the sound of thunderous applause fills your ears, jack pulling you in for a tight embrace, clutching you against his chest. sobs rack your body, your shoulders shaking as the realization washes over you.

you guys did it.

you had performed with minimal errors. no major mistakes or noteworthy point deductions.

a flawless routine.

the endless hours put in memorizing the movements, the sleepless nights at the rink, the doubt that you could pull this off, were washed away, slipping from your memory as joy bubbles up within your chest.

“representing their home country, jack probst and ____ _____!”

the boom from the announcer drowns in your ears, jack saying words you can’t quite decipher. you feel his hand in yours, but you’re not here.

you’re somewhere else, somewhere far from the packed arena.

you’re dreaming of his expression right in this moment. how his thick brows are probably furrowed together, his tongue swiping along as his lower lip, knee bouncing ever so slightly. his fluffy brunette locks are probably a ruffled mess, as he probably had ran a hand through it a few times, anxiously awaiting for a glimpse of you before your routine.

jack rips open the foam padding to the rink, where you’re greeted by your coaches. they engulf you in their arms, shouting praises over the hum of the crowd.

meanwhile, toto wolff sits in the stands, hands on his knees as he anticipates the final verdict. his knuckles are nearly white as the denim bunches under his fingertips, his knee bouncing slightly as clips of the routine. replay across the ginormous screens all across the arena.

he's surrounded by you.

your stunning figure as it gracefully flows with the music, every movement absolutely exquisite. your breathtaking smile the moment you're finished, eyes shining like the stars as jack envelops you in his arms.

a pang of envy rises in his chest, yet he swiftly suppresses it.

this moment was not about his jealousy towards your skate partner. he shouldn't be feeling this way.

this moment was about you.

an olympic medal on the line, the future of your skating career at stake.

"the scores please," the announcer booms, blood roaring in toto's ears as he straightens in his seat, leaning forward, eyes scanning the rink.

it does not take him even a second.

you're sitting next to jack, your coaches on either side. although he was a distance away, he could sense your nerves, as your smile was tight-lipped, your hand shaky as it blows a kiss to the camera.

"_____ _____ and jack probst have earned in the free dance 122.60 points, bringing their total to 206.27 points. they are currently in first place!"

the crowd erupts into applause, jeering and screaming throughout the stands. your heart skips a beat as jack springs up, slamming the padding before wrapping you up in his arms against you once more, nearly knocking the wind out of your lungs.

he lifts you, his voice shaky with the promise of tears, "we did it! we fucking did it!"

"i can't believe it," you nuzzle into the crook in his neck, "i can't fucking believe it."

the rest of the night is a blur.

as the two of you stood on that podium, gold medals dangling from your neck as your national anthem played, you couldn't help but shake this aching feeling.

you yearned for him.

you longed to feel his strong arms around you, squeezing you against his chest as his husky voice flooded your ears, brimmed with his accent. to feel his hands glide along your body, their warmth sending shivers down your spine.

there were lengthy interviews, each one nearly draining your remaining energy with each journalist or media outlet. you didn't mind, as you basked in the afterglow of your gold medal win, a grin plastered to your face all evening.

before you knew it, you were in an uber, on your way to a new destination.

toto wolff's hotel room, a luxurious suite in the heart of the city. although every muscle in your body stung, exhausted from the events of the day, your mind is wide awake, buzzing from a torrent of thoughts swirling in your brain.

what would be the first thing that fell from those lips? would he embrace you first? what was he thinking in that moment when you won gold?

as you enter the elevator, punching the correct floor, your heart races, thumping against your rib-cage.

sure, competing in the olympics was nerve-wracking.

but facing the man you were helplessly in love with?

that was enough to make your knees buckle, your body swaying back and forth as the elevator ascended, palms clammy as you wiped them against your sweatpants.

surely he wouldn't mind that you were in sweats.

a shrill ding! rings in your ears, announcing your arrival. sucking in a shaky breath, you turn right, making your way down the hall. his room was not difficult to locate, as it was one of the first ones.

bringing your knuckles to the door, you knock, blood roaring in your ears.

he opens it almost immediately.

"hey," you beam, "i hope i wasn't too-"

lips collide with yours, his hands meeting with your waist, pulling you closer in to him. you melt under his touch, nearly crumpling to the floor as a shiver jolts down your spine. the kiss is fiery yet tender, as if lovers were reuniting after months of separation. it's a kiss of longing and love, bursting with passion.

yet, he pulls away, allowing you to catch your breath. there's a dusty pink hue tinging his cheeks, his chest heaving as he pants slightly.

"i'm sorry. i shouldn't have-"

"don't even," you shake your head, wrapping your arms around his neck, "come here."

he doesn't hesitate, his mouth molding with yours once more as he brings you in the room, nearly slamming the door shut. this time, the kiss is brimmed with lust, an insatiable desire burning deep within the austrian as a whine rises in your throat.

his tongue glides along your lower lip, your head tilting back to grant him access. his hold on your is nearly unbreakable, as if he never wanted to let you go ever again.

your hands roam, inching up the base of his neck, tugging on the roots of his messy brunette locks. there's a rumble in his chest as he guides you to the bed, your back meeting the mattress.

however, he breaks away once more, eyes locking with yours.

"do you have any idea how long i've waited to do that?"

"you didn't have to wait until i won a gold medal," a giggle bubbles up in your throat, fingers sweeping a strand of away from his temple, "hell, maybe if you did that sooner, i would have earned more points."

an airy chuckle fills the space, his lips curving into a radiant grin, "congratulations, little star. there's no one who deserved that win more than you."

"toto," you murmur, his eyes softening at the way his name drips from your sweet lips, "can i tell you something?"

"of course schatzi," his hand cups your face, thumb caressing along your cheekbone, "what is it?"

"i sort of have a method to my skating," you can't help but shrink a little as the embarrassment begins to wash over you, "it helps me focus."

"and that is?" his brows knit furrow.

"instead of jack skating with me, i picture you."

at those words, the austrian nearly collapses.

"you do?"

"i do," you nod, "lately, it's been the only way i can follow a routine without mistakes. it helps me get lost in the rhythm, the flow of the music as it guides us. um, well, as it guides me."

"oh my beautiful girl," toto's mind reels, his heart swelling, "you're always on my mind. lately i can't focus in my meetings or at the paddock or in my office. you consume me."

you consume me.

bliss ripples in your heart as you lean in, the tip of your nose brushing against his, "toto wolff, i'm in love with you. i can't hide it anymore. i can't deny it. i love you."

toto blinks, ensuring that this was no dream. that you were really here beneath him, in his bed at his hotel room. surely this wasn't heaven. surely this wasn't some sort of delusion or mirage.

yet, you were here, nothing but pure adoration swimming in the depths of your warm gaze, your lashes fluttering as his mouth ghosts over yours.

"and i'm in love with you, schatzi. what do you say? should we try to make something work?"

"i think we could make something work," the words are merely a whisper, "actually, scratch that. we're going to make something work."

"that's my little olympian. are you ready for sleep or can i show you just how much i love you?"

#toto wolff #formula one #f1 #toto wolff x reader #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 #toto wolff x you #toto wolff x y/n #toto wolff fanfiction #toto wolff fanfic #f1 x female reader #formula one au #formula one fanfiction #formula one fanfic

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cumikering · 2 months

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F1 John Price x reader

2.7k | fluff Price raced for Mclaren. You didn’t know that (part 2)

No human body was made for this: jetting across continents and time zones for nine months out of twelve.

Even after the years, John Price hadn’t got used to it. Neither was he used to flying from Las Vegas to London for a photoshoot only to hop on another plane the day after for his next race in Qatar.

He groaned internally, his body aching as he plopped down onto the backseat of the cab before taking his black surgical mask and cap off. He didn’t get a proper rest with how turbulent his flight was.

“Oh, I’ve seen ya mate!” the middle-aged driver exclaimed, eyeing him from the rear-view mirror. “You’re famous- you’re the F1 bloke, innit?”

John gave him a polite smile.

“Could you sign something of mine?” He popped open his glovebox. “Wait, this wouldn’t sell so high…” he muttered as he rummaged through it.

The cars behind started a cacophony of honks.

“Am in the way.” He chuckled sheepishly as he pulled away. “You better not run off before I find something!"

Downtown London was packed at the hour. The driver had plenty of time to look through every nook and cranny of his car, but cursing when he could only come up with a yellowing notepad and a drying pen. John made do.

“Could you also put your name down, please?” He held the pad over his shoulder after he’d inspected it. “So we know who you are.”

And he did, with another rehearsed smile.

“Cheers, mate.” With a pleased grin, he tossed the pad onto the passenger seat, not even bothering to make eye contact amidst the traffic.

At the red light around the corner of the magazine HQ, the taxi halted in front of a coffee shop. He glanced at his watch - he was 20 minutes early and he desperately needed caffeine.

John pulled his mask and cap back on before exiting the car. The cap was still stiff, one with a French flag patch he grabbed at random at the airport with a grumble. He’d misplaced the plain one he liked.

He kept his head down as he stood in the short queue.

“Hot Americano, double shot, please.”

His phone chimed when he waved it over the payment terminal. He was going to regret this. He wasn’t a big coffee drinker.

“Can I get a name for that?” You looked up from the cup you scribbled on.

“JP.”

You smiled, glancing at his cap and wrote his name down. “Like Jean Pierre?”

He chuckled, only now making eye contact with you. It was a joke between him and his teammate, Kyle, or Gaz as the fans called him. You must be one of those well-meaning people pretending to not recognise him, giving him a slice of normalcy.

He always appreciated the gesture, especially the more years passed. As glamorous as life had been since F1, John discovered he wasn’t about all the glitz and glam.

He didn’t care about looking immaculate all the time, scripted speech in designer clothing or driving expensive cars. Have you seen the state of London’s streets? Everything was PR, PR, PR - like this wasn’t even his life he was living anymore. He wanted to be home on his racing simulator or get the neighbourhood takeaway in his thick hoodies without anyone shoving a camera in his face. He just wanted his old, quiet life.

You worked the coffee machine, your back to him, and his gaze wondered to the pastry display as he leaned on the counter. The cookies were massive, thick in the middle, probably chewy too. They would be perfect with his coffee.

He glanced at the line which had grown longer, and at you at the register now, scribbling another customer’s order onto a cup with a smile. It was odd that no one else was in sight to help you at the busy time.

A quick peek at his watch: he didn’t have the time to queue again. He’d just have to come back later after his business.

“Enjoy.” You flashed him a smile as you placed his order on the counter.

It didn’t hurt that you were easy on the eyes.

Sure enough, hours later after a photoshoot and an interview, caffeine still buzzed in John’s veins. He could only imagine how long he’d be up later that night, but it was worth it. At least he didn’t look like a zombie in the footage.

His mask didn’t hold off the gust of wind - cold against his cheeks as he stepped out of the building. His stomach rumbled. While pubs had started to fill up with people in work attire, the lights were still on in your shop. He crossed the street only for the sign to read ‘closed’, the last couple exiting the door.

His shoulders sagged, but he pushed the door open anyway.

You looked up from the tablet you fumbled with, your smile apologetic. “Hiya, we’re closed. Sorry.”

He glanced at the display, empty safe for two remaining cookies. He pointed at them. “Hi, so sorry to bother, but I just wanted those, please. I didn’t get the chance earlier.”

Recognition flashed in your eyes. “Oh, I remember you. Jean-Pierre.”

“It’s me.” He laughed.

You slid the bag of two cookies across the counter. “On the house.”

“No, no. You’re doing me a favour already. Have one with me at least?”

You hummed. “Why not.”

At the nearest table, he had taken his cap and mask off. You set down a mug of milk.

“You’re spoiling me.” He chuckled, taking a bite of the cookie. “Oh my god, it’s spot on,” he groaned.

You smiled. “I’m glad you like it. It took me a while to come up with the perfect recipe.”

“I’d thought about this for hours and it doesn’t disappoint, but I bet it tastes even better warm.” His gaze couldn’t help but fall to your untouched cookie.

You laughed, pushing the paperbag across the table.

“I’m sorry, this is so, so shameless.” He gave you a sheepish grin. “But it’s wonderful, really. I’ll be back. Definitely.”

“You’re very welcome to.”

“Can I place an order? For my team. Three dozens for tomorrow morning, or is that a bit last minute?”

“Yeah, no, I can do that.” You smiled. “If I may ask, what do you do, JP? Sounds like a big team.”

He frowned. “I thought you knew?”

You tilted your head. “Sorry, I don’t think you told me?”

“Right.” He cleared his throat. Heat crept up his neck from the presumption. “I work with cars.”

“Like a mechanic?”

“Something like that.”

“Oh, that’s impressive. You must have steady hands.”

“I do, I suppose.” He held your gaze for a moment. “Oh, sorry, you were about to close. I’ll just finish this-“

You waved your hand. “Do take you time. I hadn’t had the chance to sit down.”

“Busy day?”

“Very. One of my girls is sick so I worked alone today.”

“I can stay a bit, if you don’t mind.” He smiled. “Actually, would you like dinner? I’m famished. I can get something for us?”

“That sounds fantastic.”

“I saw a kebab shop a block away. Are they stingy with their chips?”

“Of course not. They wouldn’t be my favourite otherwise.”

He dashed out the door with a grin.

When John returned with dinner, you called out from the kitchen as you put away the cookie dough you’d just prepped for his order.

“I make the dough at least 12 hours ahead. That way the flavours have a chance to mingle.” You sat across him.

“Is that why they’re so good?”

You shrugged, smiling, as you unwrapped your dinner.

“I’ll be back for this too.” He nodded approvingly at the kebab, bursting at the seams with chips.

“They’ve got great food around here.”

“All the more reason I’ll have to be back.”

You chatted over the meal, about the area and its hidden gems. He was convinced he didn’t even know half of the city even after living there for many years.

“Thanks for dinner, Jean-Pierre. You can go now if you want.” You put away the wrappings. “I don’t want to bore you with all the cleaning I’m going to be doing.”

“It’s John, and I can do the dishes.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“You said you were tired, and look how long I held you up.” He gestured at the dark sky outside.

You chuckled as you shook your head.

“Come on, let’s get to work,” he said over his shoulder as he sauntered to the kitchen.

You wiped down the counters and did the floor as John helped with the dishes, asking about you and your shop. While he didn’t like doing chores, doing them with you didn’t feel troublesome.

In fact, it was nice to spend some time out, not cooped up all alone in his apartment. It was refreshing to not be talking about racing or cars, to get away from it all. You laughed so heartily, so bright at his jokes. Within these four walls, maskless, he didn’t have to pretend.

He wore his mask as you locked up, but not before sliding in a few bills into the tip jar when you weren’t looking.

“So.” He turned to you, hands jammed in his pockets.

“I’m taking the bus.”

If he had his car he’d have offered to drive, but it was just as well he wasn’t driving. What if he wouldn’t want to leave?

So he walked you to the bus stop before calling a taxi for himself, back to his own reality.

While John was away for a Grand Prix weekend, between media day, qualifying and other preparations, he didn’t have the chance to be alone with his thoughts. However, as soon as he lay in his hotel bed that Sunday night, adrenaline still pumping in his blood from the race hours before, his mind drifted to you. He wondered what you were up to, if you’d thought about him since Wednesday morning when he picked up his order.

See, his problem wasn’t that he didn’t ask, but that he asked too easily and often came off too strong. He didn’t want that, especially not to you, someone the slightest bit more than an acquaintance now, a funny and pretty one at that.

But he should have asked for your number. He had so many chances to: during dinner, while walking you to the bus stop, or when he swung by the day after. You would have loved to know how everyone flocked to him when he walked into the room, oohing and aahing over your cookies.

He’d just have to wait until the next day.

Monday was his favourite day of the week because it was his day off, allowing him to not even leave his penthouse apartment if he so wished. But in the afternoon when he arrived back in London, he had somewhere else to be. On his way home from the factory, he took a detour, parking around the corner from your shop.

He wasn’t supposed to think so much about you, let alone miss you, but he did against his better judgement. He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face when you greeted him as he approached the counter.

“Hiya, what can I get you?”

“I’d like to place another order for tomorrow. Everyone loved your cookies.”

“Sure.” You smiled. “You know, you could just give us a ring, yeah?”

“Right, about that. I was wondering if you fancy dinner with me tonight?”

“Oh, I’ll have to prep for the cookies-“

Behind you, a young lady at the coffee machine quipped over her shoulder with a stifled smile. “I can handle that.”

You turned and mouthed ‘thank you’ to her. “Where to?”

“Anywhere you want. I’m driving.”

When you sent him to wait at a table with a cup of hot chocolate, his smile faltered. He didn’t think this through. He was driving his Mclaren. Shephard, the boss, made up this silly clause in the contract for him and Gaz to drive their own McLaren to and from the factory. Good for PR, he said.

He hurried outside as he dialled.

“Kate? Kate, I’m at that coffee shop.”

There was a beat. “Okay?”

“Would you please drive my GTI over?”

“Why, did your car break?” She chuckled. “A towed Mclaren isn’t a good look. Shephard won’t be impr-”

“No, I need my GTI in-“ he glanced at his watch. ”Exactly 52 minutes.”

“What? John, I’m your manager, not your errand boy.”

“Please! I’ve got no time to explain, just do it.”

“Or what?” she said dryly.

“I’ll tell your wife in Qatar there was a lighter in your coat pocket which smelled an awful lot like smoke.”

There was a pause followed by a huff. “Fine. Text me the address.”

Kate rolled up in his Golf GTI in time for your shop to close. You picked a place not too far from your flat, and he was thankful it wasn’t packed. You sat at the table in the corner and kept his cap on.

It was evident you were less tired that night, more playful with your jokes. He could listen to your laugh and look into your eyes all day. But before it was too late, much to his chagrin, you called it a night.

He pulled up at your flat. “I promise no more last-minute orders.”

“Just give us a call next time.”

“Rather call you.”

John Sloane, he typed into your phone.

You smiled, sliding your phone back in your pocket. “See you soon, John.”

“Tomorrow. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You held his gaze for another moment before giving him a quick peck on the cheek. His heart soared, but before he could react, you’d shut the door behind you with a supressed smile.

He grinned to himself as he drove home.

“Gaz!” Soap bellowed at the door. “Sorry am late. My alarm didnae go off.” The engineer hurried to the table to see Kyle munching happily. “Och, did ye get more cookies, Cap? I’m starvin’.”

Everyone on the team wore a cap, but Price was the only one who couldn’t be caught without one, therefore the curious nickname. That, and he often swore up a storm on team radio, like a bossy sailor. Simon, his engineer, could only remain silent witnessing the outbursts like he wasn’t even there. He earned his moniker Ghost that way.

John chuckled. “Help yourself, mate.”

He popped open the box, groaning after a bite. “Aye, that’s the one.”

“You sure you don’t want one, Ghost?” Gaz teased as he grabbed his third cookie. “You’ve been staring.”

“Alright, just one.”

“Oh, that didn’t take a lot of convincing,” Soap quipped between bites.

Ghost gave him the side eye. “Would you rather I eat the whole box, Johnny?”

Soap pouted and took his seat next to Gaz, and the team meeting for the upcoming race commenced.

As always, the crew flew out on Thursday, but this time, he had you to text. And he did, between the press conferences and briefs, or work, as he simply told you. If he was home, he would ask you out again in a heartbeat. Texting couldn’t compare to seeing that smile in real life, but it would have to do for now.

Abu Dhabi was the last race of the season. He was very much looking forward to winter break, even more so this time, because for the first time in years, he had someone to come home to. Okay, maybe that was too generous a statement. There was someone he would very much want to see, to say the least.

John landed in London Monday evening, still thrumming from his P1 win and finishing second for the season. He went straight home to switch cars before picking you up at work for dinner with a giddy smile.

He had a few days to himself before leaving for Liverpool for Christmas, which hopefully meant one more time of seeing you, if you let him, that was. But when you gave him another peck on his cheek when he opened the car door for you, he decided it was impossible to stay away from you.

I’ve missed you too much.

Ex boyfriend Price Masterlist

@tiredmetalenthusiast @le16erc @keegansshark @kyletogaz @footyandformula

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lukeskywormie · 4 months

Text

and here we have the man himself:

3 times world champion LUKE SKYWALKER!!

#star wars #luke skywalker #star wars art #dinluke #lukeskywormie #the mandalorian #formula one au #formula 1 #formula one #crossover #formula one dinluke au #ohoho the lore i have for the blorbos #the way this au has possessed my mind is crazy

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angywritesstuff · 1 year

Text

Pole King... (and queen)

Just a quick one in honor of the pole king who is back

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader warning: probably poorly written english/ the first post is a video

ItsMeYn

liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc and others

ItsMeYn It's Quali day they said... dress accordingly they said...

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charles_leclerc ✓ I like the pants

↪️ItsMeYn Of course you do

ilpredestinato She understood the job perfectly liked by itsmeYn

evelyn.leclerc They are gonna be twins... i love it

charles.leclerc.fanclub She is always so supportive of him

ItsMeYn

liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari and others

ItsMeYn I'm dating the Pole King if you were wondering... (so this means I'm a Queen... just saying)

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scuderiaferrari ✓Charles is on fire in Baku

↪️ItsMeYn He is always on fire charles_leclerc✓My queen ❤️ liked by ItsMeYn, yourmom, and others

cherles.leclerc.fanclub He's done an amazing job... King and Queen

f1.obsessed You do the points on Sunday not on quali

↪️ItsMeYn Thank you for telling me... I didnt know 😒 ↪️evelynleclerc She is so sarcastic... I love it ↪️pierregalsy✓ Yn your claws are showing liked by ItsMeYn

ItsMeYn

liked by charles_leclerc, leclerc_pascal and others

ItsMeYn I think I look good in a wedding dress... @charlesleclerc what do you think? view all comments

charles_leclerc ✓ you always look amazing

↪️ItsMeYn That wasn't... nevermind... thank you

lewishamilton ✓ Did I miss something?

↪️ItsMeYn Of course not... you would be my first invitee ↪️arthur_leclerc ✓ Yn your crush is showing ↪️ItsMeYn @arthur_leclerc show some respect... you child... there is a seven times world champions in this comments section ↪️charles_leclerc ✓ What crush? ↪️ItsMeYn nothing baby

pierregasly ✓ I would like to be the best man

↪️ItsMeYn tell your friend to make a move and I could put in a good word ↪️pierregasly ✓ We've got a deal

ItsMeYn

liked by lewishamilton, charles_leclerc and others

ItsMeYn This year I'm bringing winx to coachella 🦋 view all comments

Yn.leclerc didn't even get to the ID check before blessing us

↪️ItsMeYn no rest over here

Yourbestfriend I heard lewis is at coachella too...

↪️ItsMeYn who do you think took the photo? 😁 ↪️charleswife you are always disrespectful towards Charles with all your flirting with Lewis and the fact you're always half naked ↪️ItsMeYn I can promise you Charles loves my being always half naked ↪️charleswife you don't deserve him ↪️charles_leclerc ✓ I can assure you I'm the one who doesn't deserve her and there is a big difference between flirting and joking. I have never had a doubt and never will about @itsmeYn love and faithfulness ↪️ItsMeYn you tell them babe.. love you lewis- I mean Charles ↪️charles_leclerc ✓ @itsMeYn you are a menace ↪️ItsMeYn @charles_leclerc you love me

charles_leclerc_fanclub OBSESSED

↪️charles_leclerc ✓ Me too

charles_leclerc ✓

liked by itsMeYn, pierregasly and others

charles_leclerc ✓ She is like a baby... she stops making a fuss when you buy her ice cream

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ItsMeYn what's that saying? a lady in the street and a freak in the sheets?

↪️charles_leclerc ✓ baby.... ↪️ItsMeYn What? i'm asking ↪️charles_leclerc ✓ now pierre is gonna appear on this comments section ↪️pierregasly✓ 😏 ↪️charles_leclerc✓ see Yn... what did I tell you.. he is gonna make more damage than he did with the dog emoji ↪️ItsMeYn don't worry... I got you ↪️pierregasly✓ Yn why are you calling my girlfriend? stop talking to her... thank you... now I'm in the dog house ↪️ItsMeYn I thought that was what you liked... sorry I must have misunderstood the dog emoji ↪️piarlesfan Oh my god....I laugh everytime they interact in the comments

ItsMeYn

liked by pierregasly, arthur_leclerc, Charles_leclerc and others

ItsMeYn Date a F1 driver they said... it's gonna be fun they said... @charlesleclerc

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charles_leclerc✓ You are such a scaredy-cat

↪️ItsMeYn I thought you said cut not cat... also you're sleeping on the couch ↪️pierregasly✓ charles you can always sleep at mine if she kicks you out ↪️ItsMeYn I like this idea: you take Charles and I take Kika ↪️pierregasly ✓ Not liked by pierre gasly ↪️ItsMeYn but liked by Kika 😘 ↪️Yn.leclerc @itsmeYn woke up and chose violence

olliebearman ✓ I heard dating F2 drivers is even better

↪️charles.leclerc.fanclub Not Oliver Bearman flirting with charles' girlfriend ↪️arthur_leclerc✓ man that's my sister in law ↪️Yn.leclerc wait what... sister in law? are we missing something? ↪️veronica Remember that post of a while ago in which Yn was in a wedding dress and was hinting at Charles to propose... Did he take a hint... we need to know ↪️F1Obsessed And if infact they did get married: was @lewishamilton invited and @pierregasly was the best man? we need to know someone talk please

taglist: @buendiabebeta @whathesaid @idkiwantchocolate

English is not my first language so I'm sorry if there are any mistake.

Supporte of any kind is always welcome and appreciated

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thisismeracing · 10 months

Text

Haunted | LH44

― Pairing: Ghost!Lewis x fem!reader ― Word count: 3.8k ― Warnings: +18; suggestive content and graphic description of sex (fingering and dirty talk); mentions of cheating; description of horror situations and stabbing (but not too graphic). ― Summary: Lost in the years, lost in the days, Lewis Hamilton haunts the house that once was his. The house where he was killed. And the house that now has new inhabitants. He was used to blowing candles, breaking chinas, and it being enough for the curious newbies to leave. However, it was the first time he met someone who wouldn’t act terrified by his presence. Yn was curious, and that curiosity had a price. Lewis was the one who would collect the debt.

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It was a cursed house.

The tale was that a rich man used to live there. He was beautiful. So beautiful the whole town knew who he was. He was also warm and compassionate, he would help old ladies with bags, walk the neighbor’s dog, share his famous coffee whenever he had the time, and help the young boys with driving classes. But his beauty was also his curse because someone’s wife fell in love with him, and as the saying goes, there are two things you cannot hide properly: a cough and a burning love. It wasn’t even a week after the man noticed how his lady would eye the town’s treasure. It was possible the young gentleman didn’t know about this infatuation, but the woman’s husband knew and it was enough for him to stab the man to death in the most brutal way. Rumor had it he tried to get up and walk, but he could only make it to the door of his room, his body collapsing and succumbing to death minutes after agonizing with his own blood. The houses were far one from the other, but his screams were so loud some of the neighbors heard them even after he passed away, haunted by his pleas they moved.

The house went for sale, and someone even bought it a year after the crime, but they did not last for a week, the ghost of the dead man haunted the place day and night moving things, opening and closing doors, as if inviting whoever was there to leave, and when his requests were not obeyed, he would riot. In the night, his screams would get louder, he would grab their feet, play with the TV’s remote, boil water, and let the windows open.

They say he’s an angry ghost, a miserable one because he never got to experience true love. He was killed before he could, and so he closed himself on the house he took so much care while in life. His garden was the most beautiful one. Full of dark roses, and big trees, but once he died so did the flowers. It was like everything rotted.

Yn sighed thinking about the story an old lady told her when she went to get groceries. The woman went as far as advising her to leave the house, the money be damned. But of course, Yn wouldn’t do it. The house cost money for her and her husband, Eric. And besides, she had always been curious about ghost stories. Never truly believed how dangerous it could get.

“And she told me some people still hear his screams when passing by the house,” Yn repeated the tale to Eric while they shared take-out on the living room floor. The fire was lit casting a warm glow around then, but she felt a brief shiver pass through her body as soon as she finished speaking.

The ginger laughed, “Did she tell you when it happened?”

“A long time ago, she didn’t- she didn’t mention the year,” Yn explained. “Why? Don’t you believe it?”

He shook his head, “Nah, you know I’m extremely skeptical about those fairy things.”

“Not fairies, Eric, but ghosts,” she tried.

He shrugged, “I think when we die, we die, period. There’s no second or third dimension, much less one in between to get stuck on.”

Yn nodded, knowing it wouldn’t be a productive conversation. Her husband was usually set on his beliefs, never straying away from them, and sometimes this would cost a peaceful night whenever they couldn’t agree on something. He would have a hard time comprehending her point of view.

“So what, you wanna move now? You’re afraid a bloody man is gonna show up and imprison you here?” Eric joshed.

Yn rolled her eyes tired of how pushy he could get. She loved him, but sometimes it was hell to deal with his mannerisms. When they were younger she thought it would change with time. Turns out it didn’t.

“It’s your turn to clean up, I’m heading to bed,” and pecking his lips she climbed the stairs leading to the long and dark corridor of the rooms. Yn stopped right at the door, watching the threshold and imagining how, even if years ago, someone died there. Right in between. Reaching for the outside. Screaming for help.

She sighed, starting her night routine. It was only their second week at the house, and she was used to how the bathroom lights would flash, or the water would lessen. Except, now she knew about the guy that died there, and everything that happened reminded her of him.

It’s curious how your mindset changes once you’re presented with a different explanation. Once you believe it to be true. And she believed so much to the point of googling it while lying in bed. Eric hadn’t been back just yet, and Yn was scrolling through the results which weren’t that many. It was a small town. Apparently a simple crime. It was probably life-altering and shocking for those who lived there at the time and knew both parties, but if she were a journalist that wouldn’t be the most exciting case to cover.

Yn heard the footsteps on the corridor, but she was so engrossed in the page that she finally found out about the murder of a young man, and just when she was about to reach his name the door opened. She bit her lips, trying to find which line she was reading, “Eric?” Yn asked, and the same door that opened all the way seconds ago closed abruptly making her jump.

The light on the nightstand flashed, and Yn tried to be rational. She told herself it was probably Eric trying to prank her. Or the wind, even though the windows were closed. Who knew? The house had a good ventilating system.

She called for her husband again, and she heard more footsteps, but he didn’t answer back. She huffed stressed, blocking her phone and turning on the bed to try and get some sleep. She had tons of cleaning to do the next day, the house was huge and some of her things were still packed in cardboxes.

Later, when Eric finally got to the bedroom, he walked by the bed squeezing her foot, a habit he had whenever he passed close enough to touch, and seconds before, when he crawled into bed Yn was too drowsy to complain about his stupid pranks. She just curled her body on his and dozed off.

She was humming to a tune she couldn’t quite grasp yet while folding her clothes on her bed when she heard the steps. She tried turning to look, but it all happened too fast. In the blink of an eye, she felt the sting on her back, so close to her neck it felt almost like when sunlight hit that particular spot. She held back a groan but screamed the second that same sting hit full force, this time on the left side of her shoulders. When Yn turned, feeling the tickles of hot blood run down her back, she saw a man with so much rage in his eyes that it was like he was hitting her over and over again on the same spot. But in reality, his hands went up holding a bloody knife, and he stabbed her in a series of different places. She screamed, cried, and asked between coughs why her, why he was doing it, why a knife, why so many hits, why why why? And when no answer came from his mouth except grunts she knew there was nothing to do but to run for her life. She stumbled in the direction of the bedroom door, feeling yet another series of stings on her back. She tried to run, but her own blood betrayed her and she slipped on it. The feeling of the hot liquid against her hands and cheeks made her scream harder for help. But no one came, and the stab continued. She tried crawling. Tried praying. Tried begging for her life or at least to stop and let her die in pieces, but it went on until darkness surrounded her. She weakly turned her arm in the direction of her killer, digging her nails into the skin of his forearm and dragging as if telling him something. And when darkness surrounded her she kept screaming and twisting her body.

“Yn, wake up! It’s me! Wake up, dammit!” Erik tried while Yn relentlessly twisted on the bed. “Wake up, Yn,” he tried louder and she jumped out of bed taking part of the covers with her and almost falling to the ground.

“Omg, omg,” she took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves, looking around her room and noticing there were no clothes to be folded or blood spots on the ground. Only her scared husband staring at her from his spot on the bed.

“What the fuck was that?”

“I don’t know,” she holds the covers closer to her body, trying to make herself smaller. “I had a nightmare, but it was so real, so real I-”

Erik sighed, “You shouldn’t have entertained that crazy lady at the supermarket, now you’re convinced and thinking there’s a ghost in the house, as if there are ghosts at all!”

Yn shook her head, but kept her mouth shut, standing glued on her spot and assessing the whole room all over again. It was this room. This exact same room was the one she was standing in in her nightmare, and possibly the room where the guy was killed. Her phone lit up on the nightstand, there were no new notifications, and when she unlocked it her browser was still open on the article about the case. She locked it again and took a step back.

“What was it now, babe?” Erik was clearly frustrated, he hated being woken up especially in the middle of the night, and especially in a scary situation like the one he just watched happen.

“Nothing, I- uhm- I should try sleeping again,” she stated, getting under the covers and lying beside him, when her back hit the mattress she swore she felt a small sting, but she kept her mouth shut and closed her eyes, trying to sleep it off.

When the morning came and the sun peeked through the blinds, Yn descended the stairs to the kitchen, stopping at the door and staring at the mess her husband, who was supposed to clean the dishes and discard the takeout containers, left.

Sighing, started the coffee machine, and a few minutes later Eric showed up in the kitchen, rubbing the sleep of his eyes.

“Good morning,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, good morning, you probably had a blast last night watching TV instead of cleaning the kitchen,” she spat, and he arched his brows.

“I did clean the kitchen!”

“Then who messed it up? A ghost?!” she bit back, pointing to the takeout containers on the counter and the dirty dishes pilling on the sink.

Eric rubbed his temple, before walking to the coffee machine. He hated coffee, and the second he poured a cup Yn knew he was stressed, “I cleaned everything, I remember doing it before also cleaning the living room, that’s why I got to the bedroom so long after you.”

Yn saw a hint of truth behind his statement, but shook her head, starting to discard the cans and plastic wrappers in the trash. She watched from her peripheral vision her husband grab an apple and drown his coffee in one go before leaving the room.

Protected from the cold air by a thin robe, Yn ate breakfast peacefully watching the destroyed backyard of her new house. She could see the spots where plants once were, now involved by tall weeds and dark unkept grass. A three with a swing attached to it was hanging on by a thread.

She took notes of things she wanted to renovate and what she wanted to plant where, before getting inside to a virtual work meeting.

The day went on without events. At night she shared dinner with Eric again, and it was her turn to clean the kitchen. She did it alone on the ground floor, Eric in their room doing some readings or whatever. She finished in less than an hour and then went to bed. Her mind and body were tired after not sleeping properly the other night, so when Yn hit the mattress she was out cold faster than you could say “good night”.

His eyes were covered by the shadows, but she could tell he had a thoughtful expression by looking at his eyebrows. He was taller than her, she could tell, and he was broad. Lean and strong arms, chiseled jaw, and pretty dark skin.

Yn tried opening her mouth to ask who he was. What he was doing standing at her bedroom door, but his stare was so intense she couldn’t do anything but look back at him, and as the saying goes once you look something in the face, once you stare too long into the abyss, it looks back. It starts to truly exist.

Her week goes by with lonely days and strange nights. She keeps dreaming about the guy standing on her bedroom door and keeps hearing steps, and hushed voices. Sometimes she’ll live that stabbing nightmare all over again. Some hours, she’ll work on her computer, and though there’s a sense of loneliness, there’s also a sense of company, as if she was being watched.

It would scare anyone in their right mind, but Yn tried to rationalize things. And the things she couldn’t, she just let them be. Sometimes, you have to accept that you’re not supposed to understand everything. Life has its mysteries, and so did her new house.

Things with Eric were going downhill, and they were spending less and less time together. But it wasn’t anything new, and he was busy with work. They were both busy. Yn tried to tell herself. Feeling lonely would explain how her brain threw her into a heated dream.

It was the first time she was able to produce a sound in her dream. It was a simple “a” that passed between her open lips. And so as it happens, it was also the first time the man by the door moved. His eyes never left hers while he walked to the foot of the bed. He wandered as if he knew the place and setting of everything. Like he lived there for centuries. And when he stopped in front of her, his eyes trailed on the covers, moving them to her feet, without moving his body. Yn grunted, surprised with how easily the covers fell, and how her body was exposed to him. The cold air made her nipples harden against the silk nightgown.

When she looked at him again, she saw his eyes for the first time. A deep honey brown, carrying so much and whispering so much on her mind, she had the urge to touch him. But her body would only do so much. Yn watched, as he studied her contours with something she was not able to pin just yet. She watched as his tongue came out of his plush and pink lips to moisten them. And she moaned, she actually moaned when his fingers touched her leg. His skin was cold, his touch so feathery almost like a ghost. He trailed the tip of his short nails on her thighs and with just one look he spread them.

“Yes,” she was able to whisper when his eyes found hers again.

The man smirked devilishly. One of his fingers trailed the path to her unclothed pussy and Yn whined when he spread her sex and caressed her soaked lips. She couldn’t think about anything but his deep brown eyes. Her husband was long forgotten. The house was long forgotten.

“Yes,” she chanted again. It sounded like a prayer. It made the mysterious man’s grin widen. He inserted one finger inside her and dipped his face to her ear. There wasn’t a sound, but she felt a light gush of air against her skin. And she tried to move her hips in the direction of his fingers.

He played with her already puffy clit, and this time the gush of air she felt against her skin was accompanied by a quiet chuckle sound.

Her hips ground against his big hands, and Yn choked when his long fingers hit a particularly sensitive spot. She shuddered and her body went limp when her orgasm hit her like a trainwreck, fogging her mind from any coherent thought.

Yn jolted from the bed feeling sweat slide down her forehead and between her breasts. She took a deep breath and finally opened her eyes trying to adjust them to the darkness of her room, her comforter was lying by her feet and the skirt of her nightgown was hiked up on her hips. She furrowed her brows and tentatively moved her fingers to her core, feeling the dampness of her core.

Cum.

She turned to her husband, but Eric was lying beside her, in a deep slumber.

She turned to the doorway and the once-closed door now rested ajar.

Once again Yn tried to rationalize everything. Was it possible to cheat on someone in your dreams? Was it really a dream?

She tried talking with Eric, but he was in so deep with work he wouldn’t be home until dinner almost every day. And when she tried to tell him about the weird noises and the sensation of being watched, he told her “It just feels weird because it's not decorated with your flowers and things yet, we got it mobiliated, not decorated, so maybe that’s why you’re feeling dislocated or whatever, just relax, will ya?”.

Up until starting to get the house in order, Yn would tell herself that every weird thing happening to her was just a product of her imagination. But while going through things in the living room, she found an album. Inside, a bunch of pictures caught her attention. The first few pages portrayed the house in a much better state. The gardens and a beautiful kitchen. A fireplace lit in the living room, and a corridor full of photos. At some point, she found a picture of a man. A stunning man. He had a big white smile while staring at the camera. His hair was ornated with braids, and two small ones shaped his face to perfection.

Her breath caught in her throat.

She flipped the album frantically being met with pictures of the same man side by side with different people. None of them were familiar to her. He was the only known face. By the foot of one picture, it read “Lewis and friends” signed with a date and a scribbled message she didn’t care to read because that man was Lewis.

That man was the one who would stand by her bedroom door every night.

It was the same man that fingered her until she came.

The same man who haunted her.

And precisely, the same man that haunted the whole house since the day he was killed, she confirmed after tipping on her phone, searching for the news about the case again, and finding his blurry picture there. No mention of his name. But a picture of him. And the mention of the neighborhood.

Her stabbing nightmares were his memories.

He was trying to spook her off the house.

But something changed along the way, Yn thought.

The cup of tea she was sipping tipped on the coffee table. She squeaked in surprise, and she would tell herself it was just her mind again if one of her books weren’t thrown across the living room.

And she swore it happened so fast, she couldn’t really process, couldn’t think of what she was doing when she opened her mouth and questioned, “Lewis?” She gulped. “Is that you?” her last sentence was a breathy whisper. So small only a ghost could hear.

And he did.

In fact, he waited forever to hear someone calling him by the name. He waited for the person who would see him and not run, who would stare, just like she did.

They say that calling someone by their name gives them power and gives them life.

Yn had just given Lewis what he needed.

And without even knowing, she had given herself too.

Lost in the years, lost in the days, he had finally found her.

He smiled, and when Yn turned to the corridor she saw him. She saw him for the first time being awake. Truly saw him. Lewis was handsome. Even more in person. But he was a ghost. He had touched and haunted her.

Yn couldn’t help but scream and try to run, but he was faster, appearing in front of her in the blink of an eye with a smirk on his face.

“Please, don’t kill me,” she whimpered and he chuckled.

“I’m not killing you, sweetheart. Quite the opposite, I’m keeping you here with me,” he states before adding, “Forever”.

Her eyes go round, and she shakes her head scaredly. “I-I have a husband, I’m married, I’m-”

Lewis chuckled, “He doesn’t love you, and neither you love him. Would you let me do this to you if you loved him?” he pins her against the wall and her breath hitches. He found her sweet spot and nipped it while tightening his grip on her waist. “I can practically smell your arousal. You’re such a filthy girl. So bad you get turned on by ghosts,” Lewis mocked.

She purses her lips, darting her eyes to the ground and he dips his head to her lips, tracing her jaw and cheeks.

“You’re cold,” Yn states.

“I’m dead, of course I’m cold, honey.”

“What are you going to do with Eric?” There’s a hint of fear in her voice, and Lewis bites his lips and shrugs.

“I don’t know. We’ll see,” he widens her legs and fits his lean waist between them. “Now you should be worried about what I’m gonna do with you, or rather, what we’re gonna do together.”

And despite the fear and surprise mixed with confusion, Yn couldn’t help but shamefully feel aroused when he ground against her pussy, trapping her body between his and the wall.

“We’re gonna spend the eternity together,” he grinned.

Yn arched her brows, “But I won’t live forever, I’m a human, I-,” but the dark look in his eyes shut her mouth, all the answers she needed right there.

She would spend eternity with Lewis.

Maybe not as a human.

But she would, and he would make sure of that.

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, besties! I hope you guys like this piece! A huge shout out to Dee (@struggling-with-delia) for beta and proofreading this piece!🤍

If you liked this piece and want early access to new ones and exclusive access to others, subscribe to my patreon!💘

▸ check my main masterlist | patreon guide and my taglist.

taglist: @sachaa-ff @mickslover @mishaandthebrits @fdl305 @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @saintslewis @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @shhhchriss @f1kota @lunnnix @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @schumacheer @callsign-scully @dearxcherry @elliegrey2803 @peachiicherries @he6rtshaker @therealcap @mehrmonga @the-depressed-fellow @cixrosie @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @nichmeddar @fastcarsandshit @goldenalbon @balekanemohafe @jamie2305 @nzygftoji @bbreezybitch @graciewrote @scorpiobleue @soph1644 @leclercsluv @alessioayla @littlesatanicassholebitch @noncannonships @barcelonaloverf1life

#lewis hamilton #lh44 #millie writes smut #ghost!lewis #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 fandom #f1 fanfic #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 smut #lewis hamilton smut #formula one smut #formula one x reader #formula one x you #lewis hamilton x you #formula one au #f1 au #f1 imagine

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kyletogaz · 23 days

Note

walk with me here… Kyle Garrick…. Formula 1 driver. Working with John Price for his career comeback. (Idk shit about F1 I'm just tryna help that writers block lmao)

wait i’ve got something

kyle garrick, scuderia ferrari’s pride and joy.

and the best driver on the grid. he’s been doing this shit since his formula 3 days. just a kid who loves to drive. a kid who enjoys the rush. a boy who’s been competitive ever since he knew what the word meant. and as always, kyle puts in the work and moves on to formula 2, where he experiences nothing but screaming fans & trophies. he is the moment.

just shy of 22, he signs a contract with ferrari for formula 1.

“you’ve got the potential to become one of the greatest formula one drivers there ever was,” they’d said.

kyle still can’t believe that shit. ferrari??? driving for ferrari had always been a dream for him. a dream he never thought would come true. they day he signed on the dotted line, something shifted for him.

“you look good in red,” his moms had told him when they first saw him in his race suit right before testing.

driving for ferrari was everything to kyle. he lived and breathed red. in his very first season as a formula 1 driver, he won the race in shanghai for the chinese grand prix. that first win was all the motivation kyle needed to keep winning poles in qualifying and winning race after race for the next few years.

“no grind. no grit. no greatness,” kyle would say when everyone asked him how does he keep winning. how does he keep getting better and better?

winning was everything. but sometimes kyle did his best and only managed a P2 or P3, which wasn’t ideal for him. then there were times when the car wouldn’t do what it was supposed to, so kyle would drop down to P5 or P6. it was rare, but it would happen. post race interviews when he wasn’t in the top 3 were the worst for him.

he’d say, “i did the best i could today. when you have issues with the car, it’ll only get you so far,” in front of the cameras. but when they were off, he’d tell anyone who’d listen how he really felt.

“you can’t win them all.”

“no, but imma try.”

and try he did. over the years, kyle inherits too many trophies to count.

it isn’t until he’s 30 when things change. it’s the last race of the season in abu dhabi, and kyle is gunning for P1 like he always does. he won in vegas and qatar, why not go for three in a row?

kyle has driven around the yas marina circuit more times than he can count. so why the fuck does he spin out and crash into the wall? red car just completely wrecked. red car up in flames while kyle struggles to breathe and to get himself out.

it’s like a fucking blur from there. he doesn’t remember getting out of the car before it exploded, doesn’t remember how he got to the hospital.

kyle cries like a fucking baby when they tell him how damaged his left leg is. the broken ribs he can handle. but the leg??? nah. and being laid up in the hospital does nothing to help his mental state. he keeps replaying the crash over and over in his head. he’s trying to see where it all went wrong.

did i miss something? is it my fault? is it the car’s fault? just a string of questions with no answers.

“i don’t understand,” is all he can tell his moms and his sisters, before he burst into tears.

the engine. it’s fucked. he’d found out from his teammate.

“my first DNF, who would have thought.” kyle knows he sounds bitter, but he doesn’t give a shit. he’s hurt, in more ways than one.

abu dhabi was supposed to be his. but sometimes kyle doesn’t get what he wants.

ferrari starts the next season without him while he’s in recovery. it’s a punch to the gut and kyle actually loses it. he spirals. he knew it would happen, but it still hurts.

��they didn’t move on without you, ky,” his older sister tells him one day when she comes over to visit. “they’ll be welcoming you back home with open arms whenever you’re ready.”

kyle decides he’s ready to get back on the track, right before the next testing for the 2025 season.

he wins P1 in australia, shanghai, miami, silverstone (home race), belgium, mexico, vegas and abu dhabi of course.

and if they start calling kyle garrick the G.O.A.T. on social media, he doesn’t argue.

testing - pre season testing for 3 three days

“no grind no grit. no greatness.” - i’ve been watching bel-air and that line seemed fitting lmao

DNF - did not finish

#scuderia ferrari’s pride and joy #i’m obsessed with ferrari i’m sorry #wasn’t about to make him a papaya or a bull #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #kyletogaz talks #formula one au

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agendabymooner · 1 year

Text

lucky charms, qatar and all that romance fiasco ! oscar p. x ofc (filo!gen z!ofc)

summary: in which, paloma san pedro is oscar’s lucky charm. OR the mclaren driver forgot to mention to carlos sainz about his relative being in the race— but the rest of the sprint days were something of a history.

content warning: use of explicit language, spoilers for qatar gp 2023 sprint, carlos sainz x ofc mentioned (magda) carlos sainz x in-law!ofc, funny banters, briefly mentions pato o’ward and mark webber (multi 21 joke incoming), one filipino word (“itik” = “duck” = “pato”), mclaren admin x ofc, crack fic, affectionate!oscar mentioned

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

THE DAY CARLOS SAINZ FOUND OUT

3 + 3 = P6 (QUALIFYING)

PALOMA = LUCKY PAPAYA? (QATAR SPRINT)

tagged lomisanpedro, landonorris, mclaren

liked by ninojames, patriciooward, aussiegrit

mclaren my girl is always dressed for the occasion 😇🧡

patriciooward congratulations!!! 🥳🥳 liked by oscarpiastri

ninojames he just put nine gyal on a sprinter 🙌💪 liked by oscarpiastri

landonorris 🙏🙏 liked by oscarpiastri

landonorris but why is she kissing lewishamilton instead 👀

user1 i would too tbh

lewishamilton 🤣

monamagdalena WOOOO CONGRATS OSCAR!!! (carlos is still mad you didn’t tell him about paloma going) liked by oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri am i still allowed in madrid??

carlossainzjr your other half is.

user2 he just dedicated his win to her 🥺🥺

user3 bro is straight simping

aussiegrit proud of you lad!!! liked by oscarpiastri

lomisanpedro 🧡 proud of u pastry liked and pinned by oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri no u 🏆

user4 he can’t even say ily or sumn 😭😭

bonus !!!

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lightsoutletsgo · 7 months

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P L A Y L I S T (cl16 x singer!reader series) vol.2 - miami

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 2𝘬 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦! 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 2 😭 𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐'𝘮 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 2024 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘬𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧𝘧! 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 2023 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 (𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘥, 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘪𝘵 <3) 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨! 𝘮𝘪𝘮𝘪 ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ I will be starting the taglist again so pls either leave a comment or send an ask to be added! <3

series masterlist

Miami

As she stepped through the doors of the airport, her ears rang with the roar of the fans who waited there, desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Feeling a smile tug at the corner of her lips, she waved to them as she walked to her vehicle. Suddenly there was a shout as some fans broke free from behind the barricades, pouring out across the airport. Eyes flashing with panic, she turned to look at Nina and the other girls who were being swept in the opposite direction by the security team. “Y/N!” She desperately tried to grab Nina’s hand but she was already too far away, “Head for the car!” She nodded back and began to push through the crowd, with no idea of where her security team was, she grumbled under your breath. Spotting a side exit that seemed relatively clear, she made herself as small as possible and hurried towards the door, shooting her group chat a quick message to let them know that she was okay and had made it out of the airport.

As she felt fresh air hit her face she exhaled a breath she didn’t even know she’d been holding. Fuck had that been scary. Gazing up and down for the car, she spotted a black car up ahead. Glancing down at the registration plate number on her phone she made a dash for the car, “Oh my god is that Y/N from Eclipse?!” Shit. She didn’t even look back as she heard more people gathering behind her. Breaking out into a light jog, she made it to the vehicle just as the people behind her started their chase. Throwing the door open and haphazardly tossing her bag onto the backseat she jumped into the car and slid down in the seat with a relieved sigh as the excited fans ran right past the car not even noticing she’d jumped in. Making sure to ping her location to Nina as soon as the door was closed.

An annoyed cough drew her attention back to the situation at hand. Removing her sunglasses she looked up at the driver, Well shit. “Y-you again?!” Green eyes glared back into hers as a familiar face sat in the driver’s seat. Her mouth gaped in shock as she realised it was the same guy from Australia. What was he? French? She was pretty sure he was French… What were the chances?

“This isn't funny. Get out of my car!�� Her brow furrowed, “Your car? No, this is mine.” He scoffed at her obtuse attitude, “You fucking wish. Now, get out.” Her jaw twitched in annoyance. “Why the fuck are you my driver? Did you sneak past security?” He laughed, head tipping back and in any other circumstances, she would have acknowledged how handsome he looked. “Me? Sneak past security? That’s all you… Not only did you follow me in Australia but you followed me across the world? You’re crazy!” She growled under her breath pulling up the car document on her phone to prove him wrong, “Look! Car reg plate LTY3413.” He raised an eyebrow before clearing his throat, “Well this car is LFY84I8.” She froze. She’d just jumped into a random car, oh my god what if he was a stalker and he kidnapped her or-

“So are you going to get out of my car or…” He trailed off, “Shit, fuck sorry, sorry, yes…” She fumbled around grabbing her bag. Looking out of the window she spotted Nina hurrying down the path with a security guard. Almost crying with relief, she threw the door open and got out of the car as quickly as she could,

“Nina!” Nina turned as soon as she heard a familiar voice, sprinting to Y/N who now looked a little more than dishevelled, “There’s a crazy fan!! He followed us all the way from Au… Australia.” She wheezed out, pointing to the car behind her. Nina’s eyes narrowed as she looked at the driver before her eyes widened in realisation, “Wait that’s-” her reply was cut off by the screech of the car as it quickly pulled away. Y/N winced as the sound echoed, “That’s what?” Nina giggled and nudged her side, “That was Charles Leclerc… the Formula One driver?” Y/N laughed. There was no way. “You’re joking right?” Nina shook her head, “Wait, is he the guy you bumped into in Australia?” She nodded, head almost completely empty as their couple of encounters speeded through her mind once more, Nina snorted out a laugh, “At least he’s cute?” Y/N shook her head firmly, “He’s an asshole! And he has no idea who I am!” Nina gave her a condescending look as their actual car pulled up and they climbed in with the other girls, “Okay, one, don’t ever say that again you sound like a diva and a bitch.” “Ouch.” “Just being honest love,” the other girls looked at the two of them curiously, “and two, you had no idea who he was either.” “To be fair, both times I met him were in rather high pressure situations.” Y/N threw back at her.

“Who is ‘he’?” Aurora asked curiously, “The mystery French guy from Australia? Yeah he’s not French, he’s Monegasque and he just so happens to be a famous F1 driver!” “You mean Charles Leclerc?” Eden asked not even looking up from her phone “So everyone knows him apart from me?!” Y/N whined, covering her face with her hands in embarrassment. Aurora giggled, “Did you see him again or something?” Nina laughed, “She got into his car and then ran away screaming that he was a stalker.” She felt her face heat up as mortification washed over her, “The reg plate was practically the same!” She defended herself as the girls all fell into laughter around her. With a huff she sat back in her seat, sulking all the way to the hotel.

—-------------------

Charles sped away as fast as possible. It was too much of a coincidence that he was bumping into her yet again. He needed to somehow work out who she was so security could keep an eye out for her. Reaching the restaurant where he was meeting some of the other drivers and their partners, he climbed out of the car and shook his head as he looked at the reg plate. He had to admit, she was very loyal to her cause. Even if that cause was stalking the shit out of him and following him across the world. Locking the car and heading in, he was greeted by the group “What’s up guys!” He gave a brief wave before taking a seat next to Carlos, lowering his voice, “You remember I told you about that crazy fan in Australia?” Carlos nodded, already slightly suspicious as he sipped his drink, “well she’s here.” Carlos choked on, placing his glass back on the table as he coughed and spluttered, drawing the rest of the party’s attention, “Are you serious?!” Charles nodded, “What’s going on mon ami?” Pierre asked from the other side, pausing his conversation with Alex and Lily who also looked on with curious yet concerned gazes. Charles took a deep breath,

“This fan followed me here all the way from Australia and today she got in my car…” “What the fuck?” Max spat out with a shake of his head, already angry “Are you okay mate?” George asked with a concerned look, Charles nodded, “Yeah I’m fine, just wanna forget about it to be honest.” The table all nodded before breaking into conversation; weather for the weekend, stats, plans for summer break, Alex’s pets, until there was a lull in conversation and Alex spoke up,

“Guys, Lily and I are going to the Eclipse concert in Rome when we’re in Italy, who wants to come with us? We can make it a group night out?” “Are they that girl group that blew up recently?” Max asked as Lily nodded, “Yeah, I’m kind of obsessed with them,” Kika nodded in agreement already pulling Lily into a conversation about their best songs “Guys I’ve listened with Lily in the car and their music is actually really good.” Alex admitted as Pierre and Carlos nodded with murmurs of agreement, “I’m down.” George agreed, Charles wrinkled his nose apprehensively, “I don’t know mate…” Alex passed his phone down the table to Charles, the group’s instagram page already pulled up and loaded.

Charles took hold of Alex’s phone, scrolling through the music announcements and behind the scenes pictures until he scrolled past one that looked somewhat familiar. No. No way, it couldn’t be… could it? He scrolled down further to see more pictures of her staring back at him. He choked on air as his previous interactions with her flashed through his head. He stared at a picture of her smiling backstage and blushed slightly, when she wasn’t angry or glaring, she actually looked super cute and- dare he say it… totally his type… What? He shook his head. Now was not the time to start daydreaming about a very cute girl that he’s totally offended several times. Oh fuck. He’d been an utter asshole to her… and he was about to come and watch her perform live?

Well shit.

"You okay there Charles?" Alex called down the table watching as his friend's face contorted into an expression that could only be described as horror, awe and embarrassment. Charles shook his head dumbly, eyes still glued to the phone screen,

"That-that's her." Carlos gave an empty chuckle as the rest of the table turned silent. “Nahhh… Surely you don’t mean…” Lando trailed off as Max slowly caught on to the situation,

"The girl from Australia and the airport?" Carlos’ jaw dropped open as he confirmed what Charles was saying. Charles nodded dumbly and grabbed his own phone, pulling up instagram to search for the page himself as the rest of the table broke out into a mixture of wheezing laughter and exclamations,

"Trust you to make that mistake!"

"You really didn't recognise her?" "Mate I cannot believe this!"

For the rest of the evening Charles found himself subtly stalking her on instagram, finding her personal account and scrolling through the pictures that had been posted there, some professional, some snapped by friends, some self-taken shots. With each picture that passed, he found himself smiling back whenever her smile appeared. God he wished he’d seen it in person.

“Charles?” A voice pulled him from his reverie and he looked up to see Pierre smirking at him, “what are you up to?” Charles cleared his throat hastily, “Liking her pictures from the look of it…” Carlos said next to him leaning in to look at his phone screen with a stifled laugh. "Liking her pictures...?" Lily smirked and Lando stifled a laugh as Charles looked down and felt his stomach drop at the sight of that little heart that had somehow turned red. He practically threw his phone down on the table, when had he done that?

"Oh my god no! No no no! What should I do?" Max shrugged, seemingly unphased,

"No good unliking it, she will have already seen the notification."

"Yeah along with like... thousands of others per minute, you'll be all good!" George tried to cheer him up as Charles felt his heart rate speed up.

Charles nodded as he put his phone down and tried to focus on the rest of dinner. Later in the evening, just as he was getting over his embarrassment, his phone buzzed with a notification... from... instagram? Gulping he picked up his phone and stared at the screen,

'thisisy/n started following you'

Well. So much for subtlety

#*ੈ✩‧₊˚ playlist series #mimi.writes #charles leclerc series #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fluff #f1 fluff #f1 fic #f1 social media au #f1 imagine #formula one fic #formula one au #charles leclerc social media au #Spotify

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