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cherry-leclerc · 1 year ago

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million dollar man ☆ toto wolff

genre: age gap, porn with plot, angst, mentions of drugs, tragedy, erotic literature, mentions of homicide, bits of humor, child neglection, divorced!toto

word count: 16.5k

Toto Wolff, self-made billionaire, is on cloud nine; he has all he’s ever wanted. A beautiful wife, family, a great team. But when that starts slipping from his fingers, he desperately tries to keep hold of what is not his anymore. As a possible solution to cure his blues, Lewis kindly invites him to a place he runs off to when times get tough; to relieve some stress. But he just never expected a cosplaying angel, dancing around a metal pole, to be his salvation. And also, his cruelest life lesson.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+…dry humping/ thigh riding, sexual tension, penetrative sex, oral sex (m!receiving f!receiving), size kink, breeding kink, praise, foreplay, riding

inspired by million dollar man, lana del rey , yayo, lana del rey !

STOP AND READ:

Typically, we keep it light here: occasional minor angst fics, but light, nonetheless. That will not be the case this time around. Because of that, I firmly believe that it is necessary to give a few warnings. There will be mentions of drug-use and homicide and if that is not something you are comfortable with then that is totally okay! I have more options for you to read over at my masterlist! This is purely fictional. With that, this story is based and inspired by Million Dollar Man and Yayo by Lana Del Rey (*run*)—what that means is that this story will not have a happy ending.

cherry here!…toto is like—a special appearance, here in this blog. probably won’t write for him all the time, but hey! we love him!originally this was going to be named yayo but have since changed my mind to million dollar man. IT WILL MAKE SENSE AND I’M SORRY, ANONS. please don’t hate the villain in me. consider yourself warned.

There was no room for love when it came to the world of motorsport. Toto’s first marriage was a transparent reminder, given its falling out. The Austrian didn’t seem to care, almost; Mercedes was at their prime, but by then, when Susie came along, he felt a gist of hope. She must’ve known the sacrifices that would be made—the expectations.

And yet, he sat there, signing the divorce papers once again. What had he done wrong this time? He had given her everything she could have ever wanted—spent time he didn’t even have—with her.

Neither of us were happy anymore, she would whisper apologetically, eyes trained downwards. But I’ll always love you, Toto. You must remember that.

Suddenly, he was fifty-two and with no true purpose in life other than to stabilize his broken team. If it wasn’t false accusations from other team principals, then it was trouble with the hydraulics, and if it wasn’t that, then it was losing his World Champion. Mercedes was already dwindling down to a mess, but with Lewis leaving—it felt like he was losing his mind.

“You understand where I’m coming from, right, Toto?”

Looking up at Lewis and Penni, his manager, the Austrian sighs, forcing a tired smile. No. He didn’t understand—did not want to understand. But he had no right to prevent the Brit from expanding one final time before retirement. I just feel like I need to do this for myself, but thank you for the infinite support. Mercedes will always be home to me.

Promises. Fuck them, they meant nothing at the end of the day, so why bother?

“Do what you need to do. I’ll always be here for you; no matter what.”

It was a bittersweet feeling to have. On one hand, the brunette felt optimistic. Maybe this was a chance to start over, perhaps offer up the golden seat to Carlos or Kimi. They had proven themselves in their own way and maybe that could bring better opportunities towards the team.

On the other, he felt like this was it. Maybe it was time to move on, retire with a sorrowful smile and live out the rest of his years. He could try fixing things with Susie. The thing was, he just re-signed as team principal, so none of that would work out even if he wanted to.

Running a large hand through his brown hair, he groans and takes a sip of whiskey. Wincing at the taste, he jumps up in alert from his seat when there’s a knock on the glass door. May I? He nods.

Entering with an easy smile, Lewis raises his dark brows in a teasing manner. “Drinking ain’t gonna help, I promise you that.”

The brown eyed man grins. “You have something else in mind, cause if so, I’d like to hear it.”

The Brit hums, tilts his head to the side. Lewis had been with Toto for as long as he can remember; he was there when Toto and Susie met, and long after when they tied the knot. He swore they were happy, and that may have been once true, but he also knows sometimes even that can’t be enough. So, when news came out to their inner circle that the two were getting divorced, he felt sorry for him. He knows what it feels like to have it all, to suddenly go to sleep alone every night. But there was always one place that always helped— even people like him.

“You up for Vegas?”

He should have said no. He was too old for any of this nonsense. Too mature. Only, one thing led to another, and before he knew it, he was entering one of the top-tier stripclubs in all of Las Vegas. He knows that while there is nothing wrong with the profession, he can’t help but feel sinisterly dirty. He blames it on the fact that Lewis was beaming right besides him. Maybe if he hadn’t once been his boss, then the feeling would be different.

“Oh, c’mon. Ease up. No one will even know that you were in here.”

It’s true. While the club was a part of the infamous Vegas strip, it was also exclusively exclusive. No one could get in if there was no form of proving to be millionaires, and even that was ridiculously low. NDA’s would be signed as if it were something normal. Made him wonder what kind of things occurred between these four walls.

Toto chuckles deeply, dark eyes roaming the entire room, loud music blaring. “How did you even know this place exists?”

Lewis winks, lousy arm waving at the bouncers. “You know how everyone thinks Formula One drivers are players and are up to no good?”

“Yeah?”

He smirks. “Well…they’re fucking right.”

After a couple of drinks, a few new friends—who would make great potential business partners—and a bit of gambling, the fifty-two year old found himself having a decent time. The atmosphere was a tad bit suffocating, but one time won’t kill him. He deserved it.

“Oh, oh, you might want to take a seat,” Lewis chants excitedly. “People get pissed if you block their view.”

Abruptly, the stage lights up. It was a bit alarming, the sudden speed these men took to claim their seats, trampling over each other to get front row. Carefully, he crouches down onto the couch of giddy men. This wasn’t a normal setting; girls were caged behind glass as if to protect them from these males and their slithering actions. A red head professionally swings around the steel pole, black skirt flowing, adding to the illusion men love to taste.

Whoops and hollers echo the red room as the Brit nudges Toto’s broad shoulder with a wicked grin. “Good, no? She’s my favorite.”

The Austrian scrunches his nose, half joking, half not. “Is this why you were always dozing off during our meetings?”

“Exactly why.”

It was an impressive art, he’ll give credit where credits due, and his eyes were bulging out of his head, but that’s about it. When he stood up to go and order a new drink, a string of boos were thrown at him. Even Lewis shook his head with disapproval. Man, you’re missing the show! He sends a sly grin. “I’m tough to win over, but they’re great, don’t get me wrong.”

The bartender shakes his head in disbelief. “That’s what they all say. Until they lay eyes… on her.”

“On who?” He’s quickly hushed as soon as the room changes gears. The once red club enhances into a soft yellow glow, the fast paced music slows down to an angelic piano intro.

A round of applause for everyone’s favorite girl—Peaches!

If the fifty-two year old ever thought he’s heard it all; loud cheers from fans, loud cheers for the other dancers; then he must have been mistaken, and awfully foolish. His ears ring with the sudden howls from everyone in the room. Turning around, he’s found with a girl, standing with golden angel wings. A shiny reflection colors her hair as she delicately bows, shy smile sewn onto her pouty lips. White dress wrapped around her figure as if it was tailored for her, and only her.

Yayo.

The way she pranced inside the glass box like a butterfly makes the men grow wild as they pant feverishly. She’s barely doing anything—hasn't even done half as much as what the other girls had done—and somehow, all eyes are drawn on her like a sticky potion. Toto’s heartbeat gets stuck in his throat as he tries his best to swallow it down. Sad eyes flicker throughout the club as she spins, dress fluttering like a flower in the summer breeze.

You’re someone desirable in all senses, and it appears as if you know it as well.

Let me put on a show for you, daddy.

Dropping down to your knees, you crawl towards the glass as you draw your soft brows together, as if pleading to be let out. Hot breath paints the glass before you press a kiss.

Then, you’re looking at him, and it’s as if you could point out all the fucked up shit he’s ever done. His heart speeds up as you tie your shiny legs along the pole, sensually spinning as you throw your head back. Like a signal, water sprinkles inside the box as it lubricates you down, dark mascara trickling your features.

Arms toss your hair back before sharing a quick wave as you step out, red lights turning back on. And just like that, Toto is left empty and alone once again.

“That shit was insane,” the Brits voice shakes him away from your spell as he flops down on the stool right next to him. “She must be new because I for sure wouldn’t have forgotten a pretty face like hers. What’d you think?”

Toto blinks. “She might be my favorite.”

Thank you, Ro, you say as you sign on the bottom x, waving him off as he tilts his head in agreement. Call me if you need anything. I’ll be outside, like always.

Even after all this time, you still got trepidatious. There came times where the connection was completely off, that you just wanted to bolt away, screaming like a baby. But you needed this job to survive, plus, it paid a pretty penny.

“Where do you want me?”

Once you spot the massive businessman, manspreading on the couch that he made out to look like a toy, you gulp. You had caught a glimpse of him already, basically performed for him, but you didn’t think he was the one who called for you.

He’s strikingly handsome in a way you couldn’t quite comprehend. Dark, untamed hair covers his face. Long nose catches your attention as you squirm. His hands are practically the size of your face and you could only imagine what his thick fingers must feel like. Curiously, your eyes dwindle down to his lap as you picture what rests between his legs.

“Oh, right. Um…”

You grin. “First time?”

He winces. “It was a friend's idea.”

“Hmph. Heard that one before.” Inching closer, you pour a glass of water. “Here. It’ll help.”

His hand swallows you whole as you gape down at the difference. Electricity zaps you as you flinch and he catches on. Bringing the cup towards his pink lips, he closes his eyes, lashes fanning his tan skin. Being taken care of by a beautiful, young lady, made him cringe in all kinds of ways. He felt like a child, then like an old man. To be fair, he sort of was.

“I’m not here for…you know.” You quirk a neat brow. You don’t want to fuck me? Your question has him choking on the ice as he raises his hand up. “N-no, I just th—”

“I’m afraid you’re just wasting my time, and time is money. Have a good day, Mr. Wolff.”

Gaining his composure, Toto storms over to you, grabbing your hand. “I’ll still pay you. Triple what you make, but please don’t go.”

Your cheeks are dusted light pink when you turn around, wings brushing against him. If you’re lucky, you reach his toned chest, but the height difference was scary. Enticing. You almost wish he would fuck you like a pornstar.

“You know what a girl wants to hear. I’m in.”

Turns out, he just wanted a companion. Someone who wouldn’t pity him. Didn’t hurt that you were the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, either. Narrowing your eyes, you click your tongue. “She said that?”

He sighs. “Maybe I was changing.”

“Perhaps, but that’s what a marriage is for. You change, sure, but you change together. Things can’t possibly stay that same, that’s just stupid.” Tucking your legs beneath your butt, you continue. “And what? Your number one driver decides to leave out of the blue? Even after it was mutually decided that he would stick around at least until 2026?”

That was something no one knew, but who were you going to tell? Toto grimaces. “It sounds bad, doesn’t it?”

“It fucking sucks.”

The Austrian chuckles deeply at your outburst. You blush at the cunning sound. “You’re a terrific listener. I’m glad you stuck around to talk.”

“I’m glad I did, too.” You play with the hem of your dress. “You’re a kind man, Toto. You didn’t deserve any of this.”

He slips away that night with a tranquility he hasn’t felt in quite a while. On the way back to Monaco, he wonders if you were some kind of guardian that he had to meet in order to move on from his bittersweet feelings. Because it sure did feel like it since he felt he now knew what it is that he had to do in the upcoming season. All thanks to you.

“…Toto….Hello?” Bono smacks his hand against the table and the Austrian flinches. They were in the talks of what position he would stay in now that Lewis was departing from his life-long engineer. “Do you want me to continue or?”

The brunette clears his throat, awkwardly. “We have a few weeks of break before the new season begins, correct?”

“Correct.”

He stands up to his full height. “Then let’s talk later. Enjoy your break, Bono. See you soon.” Then he’s walking out the sliding doors, with a dumbfounded engineer piercing his eyes at his large back.

Elizabeth, Toto’s rough voice speaks to his personal assistant. Clear my schedule for the next few weeks. Oh, and also; get me the first flight out to Las Vegas.

Cursing at the dusty wind, you huddle your way into your beat up car, fingers sliding your Dior glasses down the bridge of your nose. They were a gift from a recent client, and you never shamed them away. Taking a sip of your sparkling water, you sigh in relief at the refreshing taste. Screw Nevada for being annoyingly hot.

Tap tap.

Squinting your eyes at your window, you only catch a glimpse of a man’s clothed crotch as you yelp. Swinging the door open, you take out your pepper spray. “Go away creep, I will use this if necessary!”

"Warten! Warten!"

“Huh?”

“I said wait,” a thick accent clarifies. You bite back a smile. “Hello.”

Bringing your hands up to your hips, you giggle. “Hello, Mr. Wolff. Back for more?”

He can try and pretend that he was better than crawling back to you, even if all you both did was have a meaningful conversation, but he doesn’t have time for lies.

“I just wanted to thank you.” Your lips separate, slowly. “For everything. You helped me figure out lots of things.”

“Oh, wow… I, umm… You’re welcome?”

Intaking your soft aura, he closes his right eye due to the bright sun. “Can I take you out for coffee?”

You didn’t go out for coffee at a local cafe, but rather at his mansion he just blew his money on without batting an eye. Inhaling the yummy scent, you swoon. “This smells amazing.”

He smiles. “It’s from Germany.”

“Authentic. How’d you get it?”

“Don’t underestimate power.” Your eyes grow wide at his cold tone and the Austrian laughs. “Relax. I’m from Germany. It’s my favorite, so I always carry one with me. Call me old-fashioned.”

“Let’s just leave it at old.”

He flashes a devious grin, lines tracing his face. “Ha-ha. But seriously, thank you for helping me out of my little…crisis.” Midlife crisis, you correct him as he glares. You snicker.

“I’m glad I was able to help.”

“Can I ask you something?” Sure, you cheer as you sip on the hot drink. He fixes his glasses. “How did you end up working at Machiavellian Nights?” Your stomach drops. “You don’t have to answer.”

“No.” He nods. “I’ll tell you, because oddly enough, I trust you.” Okay, he whispers. “Are you close to your parents?”

“What?” Are you? He nods again. You smile sadly.

“That’s lovely, Toto. Appreciate that.” You release a shaky breath. “My father passed away when I was fifteen and my mother pretends to not know me.”

He gulps and you continue. “It was not always like that, though. We had a close relationship. She would braid my hair every night before bed. I would curl hers before every date. She was an amazing woman. One I could admire.”

“What happened?”

You lower your head, lips wobbling. Letting out a wet laugh, you brush a hand up against your nose. “Men are deceiving. Men are shit. Men are a complete waste of time and— I miss who my mom used to be.”

Handing you a napkin, you silently thank him. “She met him when I was only seventeen. It was fine at first; I was so happy for her. I would be moving out for college eventually, so I felt relieved that she had someone to rely on. Connor was great.”

The fifty-two year old is momentarily lost. Nothing sounds as bad as it seems, but he refrains from telling you so. “Then she got pregnant. Oh, Toto, I was so excited. A baby sister. Could you imagine? I bought everything my first job could afford. Onesies, blankies, pampers, I bought it all. And I never once expected anything in return.”

“That’s where things began to change. Connor swore I was trying to win my mom over and leave Rosie with nothing. Kicked me out before I even had a chance to defend myself. I thought —okay, I’ll just talk to her and explain that it was never my intention to do any of that. But she wouldn’t listen. She gave birth six months ago.”

“And you ended up...” You hum, bringing the mug up to your lips.

“It was either that or fast food. Salary is shit in that industry. And the customers aren’t bad. I could say yes or no at any given time.”

The brunette fiddled with his watch. “So, you could have turned me away?” Laughing, you nod. He fakes a smug look. “And why didn’t you?”

Tapping a lazy finger onto your chin, you close your eyes before fluttering them open. “I had a feeling you had shit locked away. Just like me.”

He bids you farewell, claiming he was glad to have met you, even with such circumstances. The way he hugs you goodbye makes the pit of your stomach fuel with fire as you brush away the urge to climb onto him and kiss his pain away, even if he promises to not feel any.

Take care of yourself, you beg, head resting beneath his heart. His breath hitches. You need to look after yourself, above all. Oh. And good luck with the new season.

He wonders why such a pretty plea makes his heart break. Perhaps it was because even though your life was at rock bottom, you still looked out for others. Or maybe it was him, but he couldn’t pinpoint it at all. He wouldn’t try either because as stated before, he was leaving for good. He could make room to visit you the next time he was here for the Las Vegas GP. Even then, he wouldn’t risk you like that.

But like a kid at a candy shop, he finds himself signing the NDA once again. Welcome back, Mr. Wolff. The usual? “That sounds great, thank you.” Taking a seat, he watches the vivid room, hoping to spot you. Set after set, he’s torn when you don’t show up. Others seem to notice you missing as they violently spit slurs of; Bring out the pretty one!

“Would you be kind enough to treat me to a sweet drink? Paloma’s are my favorite.”

Your sultry voice salutes him like a perfect hug as he looks down to where you bite down onto the inside of your cheek. Your eyes crinkle as you beam up at him. “You’re here…”

“I always am.”

He cringes, desperation humbling him as you take a seat. “Your act…you didn’t go on and I just thought you were out sick or something?” Leaning over to take a sip of his dark drink, loopy eyes train on him before sighing.

“Ugh, I wish. I’m on my period. I asked for the night off, but I’m still up to no good. Make a little bit of money, eh.” He clenches his jaw. “What are you doing here anyways, Toto? Oh shit—Mr. Wolff.” Smiling warmly at the bartender, you hug your red lips around the glass.

“I wanted to see you.”

Choking on the fruity drink, you clutch onto his thigh. He stiffens, but still pats your exposed back. You wore a silky red dress, just like the rest of the girls strutting through the busy club, but somehow, it looked better on you. Enhancing your soft features, tugging against your curves like an envelope. Perky tits begging to be licked— sucked on.

“Why?”

“I…I don’t know.” You frown. “I have no idea, but you’ve lingered on my mind from the moment I saw you, dancing sadly. Why was that?”

You purse your lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He huffs. “Think a little bit harder, then.” His firm tone makes you sit up straight, drawing circles on his lap, as a tactic to not pull your strong gaze away. You don’t even notice his hard cock pushing up against the denim.

“I had just received a restraining order against Rosie.” He deflates. “I’ve never even met my newborn sister and they got a fucking restraining order.” You scoff. “Unbelievable.”

Toto was lucky enough to be a part of his kids' lives, but simply picturing the idea of Stephanie or Susie getting a restraining order against him, crushed him. Seeing you so upset about it makes him want to track down your mother and Connor and yell at them for how they’ve treated you. But then he would probably find himself with a similar piece of paper.

“Just when I think they’ve done it all, there always seems to be more.” You laugh, taking another sip of your cold drink. “They’re getting clever.”

“How are you so okay with any of this?”

You narrow your eyes, offended by his question. “You think I am? Toto, I feel like the odd one out. My own mother makes me feel like a culprit for simply wanting to give my baby sister a pair of shoes.” The brunette furrows his brows. You giggle. “I got Rosie a pair of ballet shoes. They’re the cutest thing you’ll ever see.”

His lips quirk upwards. “So, you’ve tried to meet her?” You shake your head, hair whiplashing. I called my mom, brought up the idea. I guess she didn’t like it because next thing I knew, hello, restraining order. It’s sick. “They don’t deserve you.”

Your mouth stays agape as you blink back at him, doe eyes ringing him in. “I’m done trying. I get tired too, y’know?” Edging closer to your seat, you cup your hands against his ear, getting a whiff of his musky, expensive scent. You almost let out a moan. “You have kids, right? Were they cute when they were babies?”

He nods, enthusiastically. “They’re heaven sent.” Your eyes twinkle, and he feels bad for a split second. “Want to see?” He dangles his phone towards you as you beam. Do you mind? “Not at all. As a father, you must know, I like to brag about them.” Rolling your eyes, you swipe through his gallery as you coo.

“Oh my goodness! She looks just like you,” you point out when you spot a blond girl. He grins. That’s Rosa. Flickering your eyes up to him, you gasp. “Rosie.”

“Huh? Similar…that’s funny.”

Your grin widens. “Oh, handsome. Just like his father.” Benedict, he informs you as he blushes at the comment. Swiping once more, you tilt your head. “Very cute—like insanely adorable—but he doesn’t resemble you at all.” He laughs, throwing his head back.

“That’s my youngest, Jack. He looks just like his mother.” He retrieves the phone from you before handing it back. Squinting, you analyze the older blond. “Identical. It’s almost as if you didn’t partake in the game, Mr. Wolff.”

“Oh, trust me, I did.”

Burning up, you rip your gaze away from the device, trying to erase your filthy thoughts. Especially of him and his ex-wife. “She seems nice. Beautiful, too.” He hums, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

“I can tell you have a soft spot for kids.”

“I don’t want to scare you off, but it’s an obsession. I can’t wait to be a mommy.” He swallows a groan at your innocent wish. “I would try to be the best; I just know I would.”

The Austrian rubs his arm. “It’s getting late. Are you still going to be around?”

You yawn. “I think I’m out of here, too.”

“Can I take you home?”

The sexual tension is as thick as thieves. It suffocates you whole as you stare out the window of his Mercedes Benz. His digits taps against the leather wheel, legs barely fitting from how massive he is. Head almost touching the roof of his car. I swear I’ll go back to school, God, but please help me keep the last bits of my dignity.

“How tall are you?” Come again? You gulp. “What’s your height? Curious, that’s all.”

His head rolls back, Adam’s Apple jumping up and down. “Meters or in feet?” You bite down on your tongue. Smart-ass.

“Feet, if it’s okay with you,” you reply sarcastically. He clicks his tongue in amusement.

“6’5.”

“Oh my God.” You smile sheepishly when he frowns. “You’re huge.”

“They normally say that after I have sex with them, but thank you.”

Heat rushes to your cheekbones and the tip of your ears. “You know what I meant.”

“Oh, of course, my mistake.” Pulling into your small driveway, he blinks slowly. “You live here?”

“Yes, don’t drool over it, please,” you growl at his rude tone. His brown eyes spin towards you when you hurriedly grab your things. He grabs the back of your dress quickly and you freeze.

“I didn’t mean it like that, it’s lovely, but I just thought…you said you made good money?”

High heels crunch against small pebbles as you scowl at the fifty-two year old. “I want to go back to Uni and I’m saving up, is that so wrong?” He’s embarrassed now, fixated on the empty passenger seat. You scoff. “Glad we agree. Good night, dickhead.”

Toto lets out a quiet laugh. Your eye twitches at the sound. Marching over to his window, you click your fingers as he rolls it down. This is funny to you? “Not at all. You acting like a child is.”

“I am not acting like a child—”

“Oh, you’re not? Fuck. Again, my mistake.” Grinding your molars, you glare at the brunette. He aims for a soft smile. “I wasn’t making fun of your living arrangements, please, do you really think that low of me?” You look away, wiggling your neat brows. “Come and live with me.”

“Excuse me?”

He climbs out of the car, making you stumble back. “In the meantime, while I’m here, which is not for long. When I leave, you can keep the house.”

You grow light headed from his delirious offer. “Are you asking me to have sex with you in return for a new home?” His jaw drops.

“No, I’m being a good friend. You’re a sweet girl who has dealt with some shitty people and I want to help. Please, accept.” His voice is soft but somehow demanding. As if he already knows you’re going to agree.

Inching closer, you poke his chest. He raises his arms. “Are you real?” Super real, he states, rolling his chocolate eyes. What do you say?

“But my things—”

“I’ll send for them.”

“My downpayment—”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Cool!” you cheer. “Let me just go grab my boyfriend.” His smile falls. Letting out an evil laugh, you clutch onto your stomach. “Ha! You should have seen your face.”

He pinches your forearm and you yelp in surprise. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“Too late,” you yodel as you skip around, back into the black Mercedes. “You’re going to regret it anyways.”

We still have to talk about the preparations required for the unveiling of the W15. Please tell me you haven’t forgotten?

Massaging his temples, Toto grimaces. “I haven't, but also, we don’t have to. It’s all ready to go; George and Lewis just need to show up.”

Elizabeth gasps. “And you.”

“Elizabeth, that was implied.” The assistant hums sheepishly as she continues talking his ear off. He groans. “I’ll be there, don’t worry. You’re doing a great job, keep it up. And please, enjoy your break. You’re going to wish you had when the season starts.”

“Of course. Take care, Toto.”

Once they hang up, he picks up on reading through articles about everything and anything people have been saying about Lewis’ new contract with Ferrari. He was happy for his driver, but it still stung.

“You look tired.”

Chocolate eyes direct over to you where you stand with an oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties. At least he hopes. “Oh, y’know. Catching up on work. Can’t be gone for too long, if not things get out of control.”

Rolling your eyes sarcastically, you slide your way closer to him. “Can I see?”

“See what?”

Squinting at the screen, your eyes glimmer brightly. “I love all things gossip. It’s my guilty pleasure.” Taking a seat on his thick lap, your delicate fingers start playing with the keypad. He grunts, placing both hands behind his head as his jaw ticks. “Charles Leclerc and Lewis Hamilton: The Unstoppable Duo.” You giggle. “He’s cute. Take it back, they both are.”

He lets out a strained chuckle. “You’re evil.”

Tossing your hair over your shoulder, you shrug. It looks so soft, he’s itching to run his fingers through it. “I see why you’re upset about this whole—‘I want Lewis! No, I want Lewis!—thing.” His smile falters. “It’s brutal.”

Hauling you off of his lap, he places you on the chair next to him, hoping you wouldn’t notice his hard print. “Is it?”

“Mhmm,” you chirp, chin propped onto your knees. “You must not mind people talking about you.”

“I do mind. I mind a lot.”

Perplexed, you take in his exhausted state. You never wanted to be famous, and seeing him live like this made you realize you had made the right choice. With slight hesitance, you brush his hair back; he sighs in relief. “It’s good to take breaks in between. That way you don’t have a stroke, old man.” His eyes fly open.

“Just because you’re younger, that doesn't mean I’m about to drop dead, sweetheart.” You squirm, forcing his orbs back closed as he squirms at the clumsy action.

“Wanna feel something nice?”

Toto’s mind wanders to a steamy place once you leap off your chair. His chest heaves up and down from nervousness, hearing your soft steps. Straddling him, you press a soft kiss onto his cheek. Relax, Toto. He nods, grips onto the sides of the wooden chair, knuckles turning ghost white. Digging your hands into his broad shoulder, you begin to massage him at a steady pace. He moans. “How are you so good at this?” Your lips curl.

“I like to think I was a masseuse in my past life, now shhh.”

The brunette’s main focus was between two things; actually letting loose and enjoying the much needed massage and the urge to slide your panties to the side and fuck you senselessly. Both were pretty good ideas in his book.

“Stop grunting,” you whisper in the nook of his ear as he shudders. You bite down on your pouty lip, leaning all the way back, and his hands instinctively reach out to catch you. His brown eyes flutter open as he admires the way you tower over him, even as you lay back, but also the way your fingers push adamantly against the knots in his shoulders. He growls animalistically. “What did I say, Mr. Wolff?”

Cold stare. “What am I supposed to do, then?”

Grabbing his large hands, you place them over your hips, an inviting smile dancing across your pink lips. Squeeze if you have to. He almost comes inside his pants as you lick your lips once more before continuing your actions. And it almost seems like you want to get a rise out of him. To make him groan, moan, grunt, cry out— for you.

Purposefully, you dig your knuckles extra hard before pinching down with your nails. He hisses, grasping your sides hard as he throws his head back, floppy hair hitting the chair. You force a whimper away as you feverishly grind against his crotch. That kind of hurt, Toto.

“Fuck…I’m sorry,” he spills out as he starts a massage of his own. You smirk, repeating the same painful actions, pushing him to do the same as before. This was no longer a peaceful massage, you both knew that. It really hurts, you whine as you place a small hand against his chest, hips moving feverishly against his rough pants. The burning sensation makes you let out a pathetic wail as you rest your head against his shoulder. “A-are you okay?”

Then, you press your forehead against his; lustful gaze challenging him while tears cover up your pretty eyes, making them shimmer even more than before. “Never been better.” With one last rub against his slacks, you’re climaxing as you plow your red nails onto him.

Gasping for air, you return to tracing soft circles against his wide shoulders as he’s left dazed and confused. His cock still hurts from how hard he is, but you don’t seem to notice. Or you ignore it. It doesn't matter, because you’re already jumping off him, lips bruised from how hard you had bit down.

“I thought your hands would hurt a lot less, Toto. You ought to be nice to me.”

Then, you’re skipping away, back into your room like a shy rabbit.

After the encounter in the dining room, you pranced around as if nothing had happened. Maybe nothing had. Toto’s mind was probably playing tricks on him because there was no way you could act so nonchalant, hallowing your lips around the cherry popsicle. Is it red? You stick your salivating tongue towards him.

“That’s a dumb question.”

You frown. “Grump.” A beat. “Can I take the Mercedes on a spin?”

“No.”

The frown grows deeper. “Why not? I swear I won’t scratch it. In fact, I won’t let anything happen.”

“Tempting, but still no.”

“Fine,” you grumble, munching down on the icy treat. He smiles, fingers typing against his computer. Can I ride you? His digits freeze midair as he flickers his brown eyes over at you. Holding the car keys directly to your face, you hum playfully. Yeah. Why not, Peaches? Just take care of me! “Of course, my sweet Benz. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“You are worse than my four year old.” He inhales sharply, rolling up his sleeves as he tries to ease his crazy heartbeat with water. You giggle.

“He said yes.”

“The car talks now?”

You blush. “That’s what I’m sayinggg…”

Analyzing the strand of hair that hits your chin, he folds his hands. “How did you choose Peaches as your stage name?”

You swallow the last piece of your popsicle. “It’s not an interesting story. I have a co-worker who goes by Foxy because she once fucked a fucking grandpa in the woods and he died of a heart attack once he saw a fox. Pretty cool, huh?”

His jaw drops. “You’re crazy.” Shrugging, you kick your legs up on the armrest. He swallows. “But I still want to know. No matter how boring it may seem. I can guarantee you I won’t think the same, pessimist.”

Gingerly squinting your round eyes, your lips for a thin line. “When I was younger, my mom would bring me a peach everyday after work. That way, when she would pick me up from school, she would have it ready. The sweetest ones were during summer, of course, but the ones out of season were still pretty good. Up to this day, I still don’t know how she got her hands on those.” He nods. “Simple as that.”

“I think it’s sweet.” His long legs stretch out to kick your chair away. You squeal. “Makes you seem a tiny bit human.”

“Hey!”

He smirks. “Way better than Foxy. That story is just a murder case waiting to be taken to trial.”

“She did receive a handsome inheritance,” you whistle and his eyes grow wide. You snicker. “I’m kidding.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he lets out a heavy sigh. “Do you enjoy your job? Is this what you want to do for the rest of your life?” You shake your head.

“Wait, let me rephrase. I do enjoy pole dancing. So many outsiders assume we’re sluts, but it’s not like that. It’s an art, whether you believe it or not.” I agree. You grin. “I have fun, but no, I don’t want to do this forever. I want to be an elementary school teacher.”

“Really?”

You wince. “Seems inappropriate, I know, but I think I could be really good at it. I would cut them slices of sweet peaches any chance I get. I’ll even figure out where to buy some more once the season ends.” Scooting closer to the table, you flick your wooden stick onto his lap. He aims for a deadpan expression. “And I just want to make it clear that I do not sleep around. But when I do, it’s because I want to. I have needs too, Toto.”

The fifty-two year old grinds his teeth together. “I’m sure you do.”

Wobbling against the shiny tiles, you gasp before a warm hand saves you. You let out a breath of relief, turning to see Toto shaking his head in disapproval.

“This is why you should leave to work on time. Now you’re just a mess.” Glaring at him, you fix your rollers as you walk out onto the private driveway. You were excluded from the rest of society, but part of you liked that. “How are you even going to get there?”

Spinning around, you almost crash into his chest before you regain your composure, close proximity making you struggle to find the words. “Toto, I never told you this, but…I can fly.”

“I’m being serious.”

You shrug. “I’m going to take the bus. Go back to your precious emails.” As soon as you twiddle your finger, he scoffs.

“I would take you—”

“But you’re busy— it’s fine.”

“Can you stop talking?” Beady eyes narrow up at him as he continues. “But I can’t because I’m drowning with work…You can take the Mercedes.” Your eyes light up.

“Are you fucking with me?”

He wishes he was fucking you, but no. “You better treat it like your own.” You click your tongue. See, you shouldn’t have said that because now my alter ego just grew. He points accusingly and you scrunch your nose. I promise. Handing you his keys, he watches carefully as you pull away, blowing him a kiss.

A few hours pass by before he feels the need to check up on you. He tries texting first. Busy night? Nothing. He tries calling. Nothing. He starts thinking you might've crashed on your way there, so he hurries out the door.

Paying the taxi driver, he marches past the doors as he is handed a piece of paper. He smiles back politely. “Don’t you guys think we’re past this?” The men take a quick glance at each other before nodding. Have a lovely night, Mr. Wolff.

Loud music makes the brunette wince, face twisting uncomfortably. Brown eyes study the club as he tries to decipher where you could possibly be. Maybe you didn’t make it and he was right after all. Jogging over to the bartender, Toto pants. “Peaches? Have you seen her?”

The young man points to the glass box, where you start your set. He sighs in relief as he takes a seat, rolling up his sleeves as he admires. Everyone cheers as you smile erotically. The Austrian can’t help but be one of them too.

Spotting him, you freeze. You narrow your eyes for a split second before you snap out of it, continuing your desirable movements. The music ends and just like that, you’re done. Hollering echoes the room when you brush past by.

“What are you doing here?”

A cheesy grin plays out. “I came to see you.” Weren’t you busy with work? He shakes his head. “Well, yes actually, but I thought you were dead in a ditch when you didn’t reply to my message or answer any of my calls.”

“Why could that be? Oh. Maybe because I’m working,” you hiss. “Listen, if you’re here as a client— fine. But if you’re here as Toto— leave.”

He narrows his eyes sharply and your breath hitches. “It’s Mr. Wolff, darling.”

You purse your lips. “Very well, Mr. Wolff.” Strutting away, you make sure you sway your hips. The brunette groans, falling back against his chair.

The night flies by as usual, until they book you. “Mr. Straforx, sitting in the back booth,” Ro informs you as you suck on your bottom lip, listening attentively. “Interested?”

“Very.”

“Actually, I am too.”

The rich accent makes your stomach flip as you muster up a stern glare. Toto’s lips form a firm line as he stands as tall as a sequoia. Fuming, you shake your head, perfectly done hair slapping your face. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Wolff, but I already agreed to somebody else. But rest assured, if I have time left, then I will get to you.”

“Is money the issue here?”

Your jaw ticks, temples grinding together harshly. “You think that’s all I care about?”

He shrugs. “I could lie and say no, but who am I kidding? We all care about money.”

Flustered, you scoot closer to Ro, who stands amused with the entire interaction. “Ro, tell Mr. Straforx that I’ll be there in a minute, and make sure to apologize on my behalf.” The older man nods, tipping his head towards the Austrian as he strolls away. “What are you trying to do, Toto?”

His lips flip to a teasing smile. “Mr. Wolff.”

“Oh, don’t you dare pull that card on me.” Your face pinches up. “This is an important client, I can’t say no.”

“How much do you want in order for you to come with me instead of him?” Your berry lips separate. “Name a price. I’m a self-made billionaire, sweetheart—a couple of millions are nothing to me.”

“I could never ask for you to do that,” you whisper, timidly fiddling with your necklace. “Deal with it. You’re not my boyfriend.”

His nose flares at the cruel reminder. “I never claimed to be. I’m a client.” Pause. “Two million.”

You gasp. “Are you insane?”

“You’re right, that’s childsplay. How about five?” When you still don’t say anything, he grins devilishly as he places a large hand on the lower part of your back. “Ro! Yeah, tell Me. Straforx that she’s coming with me. I’ll give you a bonus, don’t worry.” Your friend nodded happily. Press the button if you need anything.

You roll your eyes, sourly. “Thank you, Ro. Thank you so much.” Pushing you into the private room, you yelp. “Let go of me!”

The brunette scoffs. “Calm down, I was barely even touching you.”

Shivering, you focus your attention on the luxurious drinking options. Half of these were probably worth what you make in a year, but the rich fed off of that. The brown eyed man hums. “Is that something you’re interested in?” You quirk a brow. A drink? He shakes his head. “Do you want me to touch you?”

You blink up at him swiftly, rubbing your thighs together. “You’re reading into it. I don’t.” Digging his large hands into his pockets, he clicks his tongue. Okay. Then ask me to leave. We can pretend none of this ever happened. A sad whine bubbles up your throat as you fear that he might actually walk out if you even dared to imply. “Just don’t be a jerk.”

A threatening chuckles booms past his lips as he serves himself a drink you can’t even pronounce. He takes a slow sip before he raises his glass up towards you. “You’re getting to me a bit more than I’d like to admit. I mean, you must know that, right?” Demented, you play with your dress.

Tonight, you were cosplaying a wide-eyed devil. There was nothing threatening about your appearance, not if you didn’t count your crimson red lips. Plump, round, tempting. Your black gartner drives him to complete insanity as you bite down on your bottom lip, nervously. Your red dress is too short for his liking, but only because others get to enjoy the sight of your heavenly legs. The ones he was drooling over to nuzzle his face in between. Then your horns tussle your hair messily as you pant. He hasn’t even touched you and you were already dripping.

“That’s not true, Mr. Wolff.” The grin widens..

“You can call me Toto when we’re alone, sweetheart.” You shiver, lowering your gaze. No, you were right. It has to stay professional in this setting. The brunette rolls his tongue before squinting his eyes at you, fine lines forming. The sight alone makes you melt. “You should have thought about that before you came all over my thigh.”

Shocked at his vulgar words, you bat your eyes, flustered by the reminder. You had done that. But you had the upper hand that day and that was long gone as he towered over you. Inching closer, he drops down to his knees, him still appearing taller even with the action. You squirm.

“You were not playing fair that day. How come you only got to finish, and I didn’t?” You were hurting me, you cry out like a child as he scoffs at your weak attempt. Tugging you closer to him by your smooth legs, he droops them over his wide shoulders. Oh God. Turning his head to the side, he presses warm kisses. Your skin burns with every single one. “You know that’s not true.” Then, he’s hiking your tiny dress up.

Toto is hit with instant lust as he spots the wet patch of arousal. You whine, legs shutting around him. Do something—anything—but please, touch me. The corner of his lips lift up as he bites onto your red undergarment, pulling it down. Oh, you sigh at the intimate vision. Once you’re on full display, he groans. Your pussy glistens back at him, begging to be stretched out. “You’re…”

Humming, you place your soft palm against his cheek. “Toto…”

Like a starved man, he dives in, lips sucking on your clit as you fly forward, eyes screwed shut. He eats you out as if this was his true calling in life, the way he pinches your hips when you rock yourself against his face. He’s enjoying every second, every drop, as you find pleasure with the way his tongue swirls inside of you, finding new places you didn't know existed. The brunette nips quickly as you gasp, then he strikes his tongue. Warm sensation settles inside of your stomach. T-toto, holy fuck, oh my God.

You can feel the way he grins against your pussy as he continues his handy work. Slurping your juices, his dark eyes find yours as you pant, light sweat fanning your face. His large hand presses your dress down, further adding to the friction as your tummy is pushed down as well. Wailing, you writher an embarrassing amount that would normally have you pouring out apologies if it weren’t for his strong gaze.

“Taste so sweet,” he chants, kitten licks taking place. Your head rolls back against the couch, hand clutching onto his hair as he grunts. “Open your eyes for me, schatzi.” But you’re too busy trying to make this moment last, ignoring his command. Pressing his nose against your small hole, you squeal and look down. A coy expression takes over as he pulls away and rubs his fingers against your puffy clit.

“You s-so fucking good at this,” you pant, chest rises up and down, horns sliding down a bit before he extends his long arm, pushing it back. Your chest tightens. “I know what you’re going to do…Go easy, please.”

Taunting circles edge you further as he bites the squishy part of his cheek. “What am I going to do?”

“You’re going to try and make your fingers fit.”

Your words come out menacing as you scrunch your eyebrows together, a worried look clear to the Austrian. Kissing the inside of your thigh, he nods. “You’re an extremely smart girl.” Another kiss. “I’ll go slow. You won’t even feel any discomfort, just pleasure.”

“Wait!”

Panic strikes his face as you disconnect his left hand from your breast. Bringing his hand up, you inspect the wedding band. Why are you still wearing this? He groans. “Publicity. No one knows yet. They won’t know for a while, so I can’t take it off until then.” You hum, then slide his ring finger into your mouth. You can taste yourself, long digits immediately hitting the back of your throat as you gag. “What are you—”

Then he feels it. Your soft tongue and the way it lubricated the steel before you gently bit down and started pulling his hand back. His cock grows more pained from how hard he’s become. With a pop you smile, eyes crinkling as you show off the metal. “Better.”

“You’re…” I know, you seductively whisper as you return his hand to where it laid. Is that not what you like about me? The man practically growls as he slams two thick fingers inside of you. Your body jolts as you cry out. So good, Toto. His cock twitches at you ragged praises. His fingers barely even fit inside your tiny hole, but it sure as hell reaches your g-spot. White splotches burn your eyes as you dig your nails onto the side of his thick neck.

“Just like that. Oh, Toto.” He adds a third finger, and you hiss at the burning sensation. “That’s too much! Fuck.” He makes up for it, drawing figure 8’s between your velvety walls as you open up to him. Your legs start to slip down his shoulders as he spits. Keep them in place. You whimper, but obey, nonetheless.

The pad of his fingers continue assaulting your sweet spot, curling at a perfect angle. Your moans grow louder. Chocolate eyes flicker up to face your fucked up state. “Close?” You nod, vigorously. A warm strip teases your slippery lips. “Good. You’re doing so good, Peaches.”

Your hips buck suddenly as you suffocate him with your body, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. Picking up on your candy nectar, he groans like a madman, greedy tongue swiping to lick every last drop. Shuddering at the feeling, you push his head away from in between your legs and grab him by the collar. For a second, he thinks you might kiss him, but when you don’t he realizes he’s disappointed. Instead, you plant a kiss on his cheek, hot breaths wrapping around his skin.

“Guess that makes us even, Mr. Wolff.”

“And then I rode a pony! I begged mama to let me get on a horse instead, but I just got a good scolding. But you would’ve let me, right papa?” Toto theatrically grins at Jack.

“Don’t tell her, but yes. I would have let you because you're a big boy now, aren't you?” The four year old nods, blond hair covering his eyes as he brushes it away with powdered hands from his donut. I miss you. When are you coming back?

Pressure tugs at the Austrians chest as he sighs. Jack was too young—he wouldn’t understand that he and Susie would no longer be living together. It was a mutual decision to tell him when the time was right, but it still killed him to lie to his son. Especially when he beams back with bright eyes. Toto winces. “Soon.” A pin drops. “Have you eaten your vegetables for the day?” Jack sprints away.

A soft laugh is heard from the other side of the screen as Susie comes to view. “He has not, by the way. Hi, Toto.” The brunette waves. “Are you actually busy with work or are you trying to forget about all your fatherly duties?”

“Is it that obvious?”

The blond chuckles. “Whatever it is, it’s great that you’ve taken time to yourself. Just don’t take too long.” Signing off, the fifty-two year old is left staring at his own reflection.

“He’s cuter than the pictures.” Toto flinches with surprise. Standing in a summer dress, you lick your lollipop. “His voice is super squeaky; it’s adorable.”

“Do you need something?”

His question may seem rude, but it’s not meant to come off as so. His voice is filled with genuine concern as he furrows his brows. You shake your head. “I’m bored, that's all.”

The brunette scoffs. “And by all means, you came to bother me.” A giggle dances out of you as you brush your hair back. Your sweet scent reaches him, even though you stand far enough away to make a run for the hills. “But I do have time. What do you have in mind?”

“I want to talk to my mom.” Your words shock him but he listens attentively, watching you as you sit on top of the table, legs swinging with rigidness. “I want to try and fix things.” He frowns. But you’ve done nothing wrong. You shift in an uncomfortable manner. “Well…”

“What did you do?”

“Remember how I got a restraining order, but I’ve never stepped close to Rosie?” He nods. You nibble on your thumb. “I s-sort of lied.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’ve met her, kind of…” You pout, hazed expression carving out through your doll features. “But I can explain.”

He sighs. “Please do.”

Your cheeks flush. “A few weeks before I met you, Connor called me. And I picked up. He told me he was willing to let me meet my sister, but only if I let him borrow fifty grand. To be honest, I don’t care if I never get my money back— I just wanted to be able to recognize Rosie’s face. Of course I said yes.” The Austrian listens carefully, loopy eyes dedicated to you. “I bought her ballet shoes, the one’s I told you about.”

“She was perfect. She giggled like the most angelic thing and her eyes crinkled in a way that made me love her instantly. I asked why Connor needed the money and if they were in trouble, but he only ignored me. Then he tried to kiss me.”

“He what?”

A timid smile plays out. “It’s okay, he does that sometimes, but I’m always able to push him off because most of the time he’s drunk out of his mind. I don’t normally care, but he had Rosie… What if because of some stupid mistake he put her in danger? I gave Rosie her gift and paid an Uber to take them back home.”

“My mom found out about the meet-up and marched right to my work. Don’t ask me how she got in. She yelled at me with such anger that I almost wanted to cry. She said I wanted to steal both Rosie and Connor from her. I promised that wasn’t true, but she didn’t care. Then I got my restraining order.”

The brunette’s words get stuck as he gapes at you. Clearing his throat, he drums his fingers against the table. “You should have told me the truth,” he begins. Hurt slashes your face—you thought he would understand. He offers a friendly smile. “But still…you’ve done nothing wrong.” A beat. “I can help you. Well, my lawyers can.”

Tears form inside your jello eyes. “Are you serious?”

He nods. “Your sister can’t grow up in a household that doesn’t want her, but keeps her just to twist the knife. Connor will pay for what he’s done to you.” Leaping off the table, you cross your arms. No. You can’t bring that up. He sends a sharp glare. “What he did was wrong, can’t you see?” Your bottom lip wobbles. She’s going to hate me even more. Tenderly, he sighs as he strolls over, cupping your face. “She shouldn’t, but if she does, at least you’ll be free from him. Has he only tried to kiss you?”

Closing your eyes, you release a wet breath. “He’s touched me a couple of times.” The Austrains eyes darken. Pushing his hands down, you quickly take a step back. “But by then I was due to move out, so it doesn’t really matter!”

“It matters a little,” he growls. “None of this is normal.” You flinch at his strong tone. “Sweetheart, tell me one thing; what would you do if God forbid, he did the same thing to Rosie?”

You gasp. “I would murder him.”

“So, you agree that we have to do something about this?” Hesitantly, you nod. “I’ll reach out to my attorney as soon as possible. I promise you that all of this will get taken care of.” Muscular arms drape over your shoulders as he hugs you. Bewildered, you blink as you stiffen. “You don’t hug much?”

“Nope.”

He booms with laughter, chest vibrating as you smile at the feeling. Everything about this feels right, so then why does that scare you?

He vows to be back as soon as he’s done with the car reveal. I don’t care, you reply as you pop a mint into your mouth, getting ready for work.

You’re going to miss me, watch.

And damn him, the fucker was right—you did. A part of you wishes he would rush past the doors, yapping about he thought you were dead and didn’t ask for permission to take the Benz. But he was across the world, smiling wide at media duties as you watched behind a tiny screen. It’s good that he’s taking time to see Jack, too.

“Why are you sighing so sad?” Roxy asks, fixing her combat boots. “Not getting any clients? Though I doubt it. They love you.”

You let out a forced laugh. “I’m not sad—tired.”

The red head furrows her brows suspiciously before hugging you. Your arms dangle lazily as you scrunch your nose. She giggles. “Does this have to do with Mr. Toto Wolff? He’s hot—crazy hot.” She untangles herself from you. “He must be the devil himself.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh yeah,” she cheers happily. “But also, you’re totally in love.” Your stomach drops. No, I am not. Roxy rolls her eyes. “You’re a good liar, but you’re not that good. I’ve noticed the way you look at him. Like you want to eat him alive as you kiss him until your lips snap.”

You wince at the image. “You have a way with words…”

She beams, thin brows raising up. “I’ve also noticed that you haven’t gone into the private room since he walked in through those doors. So what, you’re just going to keep pretending?”

“You’re such a creep!” you squeal, delicate hand slapping her thigh. She squeals lightheartedly. You’re missing out on a shit ton of money. We’re talking dough. And yet you don't bat an eye because you don’t want anyone but him. Did I nail it?

You pinch your fingers together as you huff. “You’re crazy. Crazy. There is no way I could be in lo—” Hey! The ringing sound makes your blood run cold as you fear to turn around. Look at me. Foxy stares back at you with anxious eyes. Do you know her? Looking down onto your lap, you nod. “That’s my mother.”

“Oh shit.”

A dry hand yanks you by the arm as she spins you around. “I’m talking to you. Why won’t you look at me?”

You flinch. “I’m working, you can’t be doing this—”

“I don’t give two shits if you’re working or not, if I say we need to talk, then we need to talk.” Ro shakes his head, distressed as he apologizes. I’m so sorry, Peaches. She said she was your mom and I…I didn't know what to do. You smile back softly.

“Don’t worry. Can you get me a room?”

As soon as your mother enters the dark area, she whistles. “Fancy, but really? Bending over for any man willing to pay you a couple cents? That’s disgusting.”

Your cheeks burn up as you fight back tears. “What do you want? Is Rosie okay?” Panic rushes through your veins as you grab her by the shoulders, shaking her violently. She’s so thin, you think you might break her. “Is she okay, I said?”

“She’s fine,” she yawns. “So…this is what you’re up to? It always…catches me by surprise. Not really.”

“I had no choice,” you whisper meekly. “You gave me no choice.”

The older woman smirks. “Don’t you dare blame me. No one makes you do anything— this was your decision.”

You let out a tired sigh. “Just tell me what you want…”

Her eye twitches, as if she remembers why she was so angry to begin with. “I got your complaint; you’re suing me for being a bad mother and Connor for…assaulting you? Do you realize how stupid that sounds?”

“I’m not lying—”

“Really?”

“Why would I lie?” you yell back, acid sliding down your cheeks. “I would never make up such a thing. He assaulted me countless times as you never did a single thing.”

“I never saw anything.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “You walked in on it! You called me a slut! I was seventeen for fuck sakes. But no—you blamed me for sleeping with your husband instead.” You take a good look at her; dark undereyes, frail figure, needles imprints everywhere. “You can’t keep doing this. You need to think about Rosie—”

“Rosie, Rosie, Rosie—I could not care any less about her! She just bugs with all her crying. It’s exhausting.”

“She’s just a baby.” Grabbing her hands, you soften your gaze. “If you don’t want her, fine, let me raise her…I swear I can do it.”

Your mother perks up. “You would do that?” Yes. Of course I would, you respond instantly. You’ll never hear about us ever again. Her thin hand cradles your cheek warmly, and for a moment, you let yourself lean against it. Then she pulls away and strikes you harshly, causing you to stumble back. “Why would I ever please you like that?”

Bring your hand up to your stinging flesh, you sob. “I-I…what?”

“Here’s what you’re going to do; you're going to drop the charges against me and Connor.”

“No.”

She clicks her tongue. “Are you sure?”

Rising up with shaky legs, you keep a firm face even though it begs to howl in pain. “I said no. You’re not going to hand her over willingly, okay…Then I’m taking you to court.”

“Like hell you aren’t.” Tugging your arm, she presses her face insanely close to yours. You wince at the smell of intoxication; you can’t even tell what kind. “I will fucking kill you, do you hear me?”

You let out a wet laugh, ripping your arm away from her tight grip. “I don’t care. I don’t care anymore, but I am saving my sister from you two—no matter what.” Her nostrils flare as she heaves. You let out a sad whimper. “When did you become so inhuman? You used to be kind, beautiful, ha—”

“Heartbreak does that to a person,” she simply states before walking out, leaving you to yourself as you finally come crashing down.

He didn’t expect for there to be a racket, but the house felt awfully quiet. He knows you weren't at work—he had checked. He thought maybe you could have been out with friends, so he sighs before resting on the couch. He sits there for an hour or so before heading upstairs to take a shower.

As soon as he enters the bedroom, he finds you covered with thick blankets as you cry. Alarmed, he rushed to your side of the bed. Oh my God, you shriek at the anonymous person before squirting. “When did you get here?”

“That doesn’t matter—what’s wrong?”

You hope brushing your tears away would stop him from asking questions. “What makes you think something is wrong?”

A pinched up expression maps out. Your chin forms a peach seed as you let out a weak sob and stand on the bed, making you the same height as him, throwing your arms around his neck. He’s stunned, but snaps out of it as he hugs you back, calloused fingers playing with your soft hair. “What’s wrong?”

“My mom visited me at work. She said some nasty things, but that doesn’t matter to me, what does is that she won’t let me adopt Rosie,” you muffle against his neck, salty tears wetting his collared shirt. “She’d rather raise her out of spite. She’s not made for this, she's malicious.”

“What else did she say?”

You pause, sniffling before pulling back with a reindeer nose. “That’s it.”

The Austrian lowered his gaze with subtle threat. “No, tell me everything she told you.”

“I swear that’s all.”

His brown eyes scan your face, but you remain still, only shaky breaths being released. He clenches his jaw. “Where does she live?” Your face drops. Why do you want to know? “Where does she live?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Stop being so stubborn and let yourself be helped—”

“I don’t need your help anymore, Toto!” You purse your lips, trembling hands brushing your hair back. Anger rushes over him as he inspects the purple bruise.

“Who did this to you?”

Sitting back down on the bed, your nose twitches. “I’m moving out.”

“Who fucking did this to you?” His voice is lethal. Thank you for trying to fix things, but I’m sure I can do it myself from now on. “What you don’t seem to understand is that you don’t have to. It was your mother, correct?” Forlorn, you agree with your silence. “What have they done to you?” he whispers, pain lacing his raw voice.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into all of this,” you whisper, salty tears sliding down. “I’m going to kill your image—they’re going to hate you because of me.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” the brunette ricochets back. “All I care about is that you’re okay. That you find the happiness you deserve to have.”

Grimacing, you sniffle, shaking your head. “I’m starting to think that doesn’t exist. Or at least I’m so unlucky that I won’t get a piece,” you joke. “The closest thing I’ve felt to that is when I met you.” His heart melts as he stares back, adoringly. “You’ve helped me in so many ways, Toto. Thank you for that.”

“But—”

“I know.” Rising up on the fluffy bed, you tower over him a bit, pressing kisses on his temples, cheeks, nose, neck. “You’re the only man who's ever made me feel something real. I can’t explain it, but I hope it makes sense.”

He gulps. “It does. You want to know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve made me feel the exact same way from the moment you stepped into my life.” He closes the gap between you two as you stumble back against the mattress, but his large hands prevent you from getting away. “You’re not perfect—you’re flawed. You don’t have your life together—but you’re trying to. You’re not the tough girl you make yourself out to be—but that’s because you feel the need to build up walls to protect yourself from others.” Your stomach churns with every word he speaks. “And somehow…you have me wrapped around your finger.”

It happens so quickly, the way he presses his lips against yours. He can taste the saltiness but doesn’t dare to pull away. Like an animal, you move your mouth against his, whimpers flowing to his ears like symphonies. Toto knows why you never made the first move; you were scared to admit your feelings. But he was too.

Almost as if you read his mind, you run your fingers against his scalp as he breathes out, against your open mouth. “You won’t do the same, right Toto?”

“What, sweetheart?”

Gloomy eyes reflect against his own. “Leave?”

“Unless you ask me to, then no.” He pecks your temple. “I can’t even imagine living without you anymore.”

That’s all it takes as you jump on him, silky legs wrapping around his torso like a piece of ribbon. He grunts loudly when you bite down on his bottom lip before letting go. “God, Toto, you’re—” As soon as he sucks on your throat, your sentence dies. Writhing against him, you try pushing him off as he chuckles, then he sets you down against the white sheets.

Immediately, you crawl back to the edge of the bed to where he still stands. Frisky hands tremble as you aim for his belt. Such a pretty girl, he thinks as you slip it off. You don’t have to do this. “I owe you, remember?” Then eager hands push his pants down, along with his boxers.

You knew he would be big, but that was an understatement. Toto was huge. Being 6’5 should have been a warning itself, but still. Drooling over his cock, you lick your lips, doe eyes fixating back to him. “I might not be able to take it all in my mouth,” you sheepishly state, red faced. The fifty-two year old has probably had a much better encounter; you were just making a fool out of yourself. Running his thumb against your cheekbone, the corners of his lips fly up.

“I’ll walk you through it.”

Humming, you delicately wrap your hand around his length. Even just feeling it makes the heat in your belly grow. He clenches his jaw. Jerking him off, you wrap your lips around the pink tip. The Austrian releases a dirty groan, hips bucking as you smile around him. Pulling back, you stare up expecting the next step. Start off how you normally would.

Pouty lips welcome him down your throat as you whine, the vibrations sending him into an orbit. When your palm slithers to what you can’t reach, he tsks. “You haven’t even tried.” Soft brows pinch together as if to say; Probably because I know I can’t either way. His nostrils flare. “Relax your jaw.”

Doing as you’re told, you gag as you squeeze your eyes shut and curl your toes. Your back arches, ass flying up as you struggle. A large hand reaches out to smack it. Yelping, you ease your mouth, thick member sliding down furthermore than you could have even imagined. There you go.

Swallowing around him, you bob your head at a steady pace, reliving the steps, too scared to mess up. The Austrian throws his head back, sharp jaw in clear display as he pants. “Just like t-that, fuck. You’re doing so…shit.” While he’s enjoying himself, tears burst out as you clench your eyes, lashes becoming darker. The feeling is definitely getting him off, but he wanted to make things easier for you.

Brushing your untamed hair back, he traces the bridge of your nose. Your orbs remain closed, and he finds himself missing them. “Breathe through your nose.” Ragged breaths fly out as your fingers dig against his thighs. He hisses. But gradually, it gets better. Glossy eyes stare up at him, lips stretch around his cock as you continue your filthy movements.

As if to prove yourself to him, you deepthroat him even more as his head rolls back, floppy hair following along. Soft fingers brush against his legs as he shudders, face twisted with pleasure. Pulling away, you swirl your wet lips against his tip, feeding off of his precum before forcing yourself back down.

Thick ropes of cum slide down your throat as you moan loudly. The brunette grunts, shaky breaths flying past his lips. With a teasing pop, you kneel up as you open wide. He moans at the sight of his release swimming inside your sinister mouth, then you swallow. Even though your throat is extremely sore, you still beam at him.

“Where have you been all my life?.” Climbing over you, he lays you flat, slipping your dress off. He’s stunned to find out you’re completely naked. Cherry red feathers on your cheeks. “Are you sure you didn’t know I was going to be back?”

Your lips curl. “No idea.”

He wraps his mouth against your bud as you whimper, hand massaging his head as he repeats his actions to the other. You could definitely fall asleep to this. When you open your eyes, you’re impressed to find out he’s completely stripped down, toned body exposed. The sight makes you grow excited, nervous.

“Are you on birth control?”

You curse softly. “I’m not. Crap.” Disappointed, you’re expecting him to climb off, but he doesn’t. Instead, he let out a raw chuckle. “I t-told you I don’t fuck men on the regular—”

“I don’t need the reminder,” he grunts. His brown eyes soften. “What’s your wish in life?”

Confusion paints your face. “To have you?”

“Cute.” Flustered, you focus on his contracting abs. Foaming at the mouth, you try to picture rubbing your core against them. “The other one,” he demands.

“Oh…” No. He can’t possibly mean… Your heart stops beating. “To be a mom.”

“There it is.”

Briskly, he pushes into you as you wince in pain. I know, I know, he coos. But it’s better this way. It won’t feel so bad in a few minutes. Crying against his humid chest, your jaw hangs open. “It really hurts, Toto. Oh…it burns.” Hot tears reestablish themselves inside your orbs. “You’re too big.”

“Breath, sweetheart, breath.” His voice calms you down as your mewls lessen. “See?” You hum. “I’m going to move, alright?”

“O-okay,” you respond, dizzy. The feeling returns—less painful—but returns, nonetheless. Panic expands through your chest as you begin to think he might split you in half. His cock was just so thick and veiny. But it felt delicious between your velvety walls. “Fuck, baby,” you pant.

“I knew you could do it.” A warm peck lingers on your shoulder. “You feel so tight, schatz. So warm.” He sighs in relief as your tiny cunt compresses against his length, easing the pain from being as hard as a rock. Worse. Strong arms pick your legs up over his bare shoulders, making him travel deeper.

“Toto, Toto, Toto—”

Eyes entertained against your slippery hole, he raises his brows. Yeah, baby? Getting a hold of his hand, you bring it over your stomach. His jaw clenches. “I can feel you.” Writhing in ecstasy, you toss your head to the side, small whines echoing between the vaporized walls. Pouding into you at a faster pace, he growls, bite marks being left behind on your legs. You hiss, clamping your eyes even harder, which makes you clench around his cock even more.

“Do that again,” he begs. “Do it—” You oblige, attention set on how he moans feverishly, hands adding pressure to your legs. For sure his imprints would be left behind. Taking advantage of the little power you have, you untangle yourself, greedily climbing onto his thick lap.

“Looking good, Mr. Wolff.”

He looked more than good—he looked eternal. The way his chest heaves, his soft pants, sweaty hair framing his handsome face, dark eyes praising you as if you were Athena herself. A confession finds into your brain as you halt. Beads of sweat cover his long nose as he appears concerned by the sudden break. Is everything okay? Rubbing your eyes as if you just had the worst nightmare, you blink hastily.

Roxy couldn't have been right—she never was. Except, she is this time. It's as if a warm glow towers over him, your chest feels awfully vacant, but you’re not scared because you know your heart has found its home in the palm of his hand. You laugh in amusement as you touch his face all over. He smiles, eyes crinkling. “What’s so funny?”

“I love you, Toto Wolff.”

A lump forms inside his throat as he tilts his head. “You do?”

You shrug sheepishly. “I do.” Kissing his lips, you sigh with content. “I love you, I love you, I love you; I adore you.” He can hear the clock ticking as he stares back with his lips slightly parted. “You don’t have to feel the same, you dont have to say it back—I don’t care, but I can’t keep living a life of regret…”

“I love you, too.” Cartoon eyes blink back at him as he chuckles. “Do you believe me?”

“Uh…” Your lips stretch out. “Yes.”

Shifting on top of the Austrian, you make sure to slip him back inside as you moan in unison. Riding someone has never felt so addicting. Gasping at the raw feeling, you dig your nails onto his shoulders. When you look down at him, you are pleased to find him struggling to catch his breath. His fingers pinch your hips harshly as you bounce harder and faster, as if he would regret his words and leave you. “So big.” You drool, hair flourishing around you. “Stretching me out so good, Mr. Wolff.” He growls at you captivating words. “Making it so easy to ride you, huh? Cock brushing against the perfect sp—oh my God.”

Your face twists up with pleasure when the tip of his cock brushes against the mushy part that makes you almost black out. Movements slow down but it’s not long before he lifts you up and slamming you back down. “Toto!” you squeal, flimsy arms reaching out to balance yourself on his wide shoulders. Everytime he hauls you up and you look back at him, he represents like a giant. Your eyes roll back, mouth hanging wide open. “I-I’m close-e-e.”

“Me too,” he grunts. Like a devilicious man on a mission, he slaps your face carefully, forcing you to connect your glossy orbs with his loopy ones. “Gonna let me cum inside? Carry my baby, just like you’ve always wanted?”

“Yes,” you chant. “Yes—all of it—yes.” Cradling his cheek against your sweaty palm, you smile. “Cum inside of me, Wolff.”

With one final push, you both release loud moans, a strong wave of orgasms crashing violently against one another. Huffing, he makes a ponytail with your messy hair before letting go. “You think it worked?” You giggle.

“We’ll have to wait and see.” Leaning towards him, you kiss him gingerly. His mind grows blurry with how meaningful you make it seem. I’m yours—my heart is all yours—but please don’t break it, it seems to tell him as his enormous hands squish you closer to him, as if that were possible.

“I know of a few ways we can make sure.”

Though you had mutually admitted your feelings to one another, there still didn’t appear to be a proper label to it all. Time was slipping, he would soon have no other choice but to leave and face all his responsibilities.

But you can come back with me, he would desperately bring up as he fucked you against the wall. Tits would be bouncing at a hasty speed as you look back with your mouth in an O. I want you to. You won’t ever have to worry about anything, I promise. You can go back to Uni. You’ll get custody over Rosie, and Jack will be over the moon. We could have a family of our own, just you and I, Peaches. Huh? How does that sound, baby?

It sounded perfect; like a dream. You could taste it already. Early morning calls that you wouldn’t mind because he’d be laying down next to you. Quiet time as you jot down notes and he stresses over the next big decision for the team. And at the end, you would be glad you made the choice to choose him. Just like he chose you.

With shaky hands, you brush his messy hair back as he dotes on your bambi eyes. The way they glimmered extra bright that night; like starlight. The brunette’s face would soften up when you trace his nose, the curve of pink lips, his lines. Everything about him was breathtakingly dominant.

You’d be a fool to deny.

So, you accept.

If Toto were to be told that he had died and ascended to heaven; he wouldn’t second guess the possibility. Because being with you felt exactly like that. Every passing second only adds to the amount of love he bottles up for you. It would overflow and he’d be okay; bring out the next. Oh, that one’s full, too? Okay, next.

All of it made sense. You matched perfectly in sync with him like a cozy glove and he wouldn’t have it any other way. There’d be whispers from others, but he doesn’t care. He’d deal with just about anything for you.

“You’re leaving so soon.” A click. “Have you thought about quitting?”

He can see you grow as stiff as a tree. Your back faces him, but he can still spot your reflection. Of course you looked absolutely lovely, but there was something different about…God. He doesn’t even know what to call it.

“I’m not quitting.”

The Austrians' lips form a thin line; shoes clicking against the floor even more. A boom of lighting fills the room as you flinch. He smiles slowly. “Right—not yet, at least. Not until you move to Monaco.”

More heavy silence. “Sure.”

Now he’s worried. Strolling closer to you, he brushes his warm hand against your shoulder, kissing your exposed skin. “What is it?”

His heart stops when he notices you blinking back tears; bloodshot eyes tracing his tall figure. His first assumption is the most obvious; your mother and Connor. They had probably done something, said something, and now they’ve got you—

“I’m taking the car. See you later.”

He blinks. The cold demeanor was something unusual on your behalf, but leaving without a goodbye kiss was alarming. Toto tries to suppress his feelings with a bottle of scotch, but nothing seems to work. He has to see you.

Gathering his wallet and house keys, he strides out the door before he spots his laptop wide open. As soon as he returned, he would have to answer endless emails, but for now, that wasn’t his priority. Inching closer, he reaches down to slap it shut when his pulse runs cold.

We should think about Jack.

He’s too young to understand anything of what’s going on, Suse.

Let’s just try one last time. I swear I’ll change.

I love you.

He knew instantly; you had read the messages. He had sent them, there's no doubt, but that was so long ago. The date was right there; all before he met you. Before opening up to you. But he doubts you spared enough time to spot the tiny detail. You saw his texts and that’s all; the rest was blocked.

Toto’s palms get sweaty, ears burning red, and heart racing faster than a fucking F1 car. How must you feel? You had made him promise that he wouldn’t hurt you and now this? The confusion was completely explainable, but he had to get to you fast.

It’s as if he owns the place, marching fiercely past the open doors that swing once they spot the Austrian. NDA’s were rather foolish when it comes to him now because he just held that much power. That much respect. But he can’t think of why something feels off. You were hurt, and he felt awful, but no…there’s something else. As if there were an actual wolf lurking deep in the woods; ready to pounce. The hair in the back of his neck stands up, goosebumps forming, and eyes flickering all over the rich club, hoping to find you.

“Hey,” he pants when he spots the familiar redhead. Foxy lives up to her name because her laser glare has him scared for his life. She doesn’t even spare him a second glance before strutting away, a row of men following. The Austrian pushes past them all, pleading just like any other, but for a completely different reason. “Have you seen, Peaches?”

“Yes.”

“Great! Where is she?”

“Around.”

The dancer beams at the group of businessmen who relax against their seat, hunting down without shame. They wore wedding bands, but who cared, right? Toto’s large hand grasps her wrist, tugging her away as she gasps, causing a commotion. He doesn’t care, he just has to find you.

Brown eyes glimmer threateningly but also soft because they’re both aware he needs her, for she only knows where to find you. “Listen, I know she told you what happened, but it was all some misunderstanding! The messages..they were sent to my ex-wife a long time ago. Before any of this, I swear…you have to believe me.”

Foxy narrows her thin brows, digging a sharp nail against his toned chest. “No, you listen—Peaches is one of the sweetest girls I have ever met; she's my other half, so when you hurt her…” A beat. “That’s it. She doesn’t forgive.”

His shoulders drop like an avalanche. “B-but it was a...you don’t mean that.”

The redhead struts away, long legs prancing like a vixen. “Believe me; don’t believe me—I don’t care. Just leave her alone.”

But he can’t do that anymore, he's in too deep. No matter how many times Foxy cursed him to leave, he just wouldn't. He would explain. Even if it were that last thing he did. All's fair after that.

“Mr. Wolff?” A red drink is extended out towards him kindly, to which he shakes his head with a forced smile. If you can even call it that. He’s sure he looks awful, dressed in all black, but it perfectly represented him for who he is and how he was feeling. It’s almost as if he were ready to show up to a funeral.

As time ticks at a snail's pace, he grows more nauseous. There’d be a moment where you see him and he doesn’t know how you would react. Fuck—he doesn’t know how he would, either. To some it may be embarrassing to weep in front of a group of worldly men, but if you looked at him a certain way where he knew it was over? He’d be the first, and without hesitation or shame.

He’s come to recognize your set as fast as a racing strategy. The stage would light up a soft yellow; swallow the room like the early sun. The piano keys would start off slow, taunting, and almost sinister—Yayo. And of course, you’d prance around like a broken angel, wings brushing your hair like his long fingers would.

But this is strange.

He’s too busy analyzing the colorful club when the lights burn black, only the glass box raining a bright red. He doesn’t even recognize it’s you.

The intro isn’t the notorious piano lullabies, but rather scratchy violins. Million Dollar Man slithers across the crowded room like a venomous snake, waiting to strike anyone who doesn’t lay their attention on them.

And this time, you’re no angel, you’re no devil. You’re both. It’s confusing and alarming, but also beautiful and breathtaking. While your dress is cotton white, your makeup is dark and tempting, lips dark red. Your knee socks are tied with a simple ribbon, making men drool like some type of fuckery. You look miserably broken. If anyone were to guess, then they’d say that you’re high off drugs, but that’s not the case. You're high off heartbreak.

And the simple necklace you wear, with his marriage ring attached to it, is a pelluid indication. Even if it was new level petty.

Toto is in such a trance that he doesn’t even feel when a group of hands push him to sit down, eager to have a clear view of their own. They all secretly envy the Austrian when they notice that he had landed himself the best seat in the house without even trying.

So, was it fate to be sitting here, in front of you? Was it fate to have met, then hurt you without the means? The music is almost terrifying, along with your black wings and white halo. All of this is utterly puzzling; was he supposed to be into this, or fear it? Was he supposed to feel his heartbeat in the pit of his stomach, drumming against his ribcage, or was he supposed to be at ease? But most important; would you spare him this time to apologize, or would you kick him out of your life? The last notion scared him the most as he sat like a tired soldier, brown eyes blinking to where you start to seductively twirl.

I don’t know how you convince them and get them. Shiny legs drag behind your delicate figure as your eyes roam the room, sighing with every lustful stare. This is purely pathetic, it didn’t make you feel the way you intended for it to do, but shit. All you wanted to do was flee the state and never look back. But there were too many things tying you back; Foxy, Ro, Rosie…A stinging sensation begins to form behind your orbs and you fiercely blink them away, refusing for the thought of Toto to be what brings you down.

But in a moment like this, what were you supposed to think about? Toto was many things; devilishly, cunningly handsome, tempting, brilliant, intoxicating; but he was also a fucking no-good, professional heartbreaker, a screwed up man who roamed earth without a sense of direction, who truly never deserved to fall in love again, especially with someone was tainted and loyal as you—

But the eyes don't lie. He’s become known by you; someone in your favorite book whom you look for in every page, despite it all. His orbs remind you of your favorite kind of dark chocolate, swirly and dreamy; enough to make you swoon, but they’re filled with more than just that. They’re desperate, as if ready to run endless miles if that's what it took for you to speak to him. They’re loopy, blazing nervously when you spot him, brows knitted with concern.

And he deserves it…you think.

Still, that doesn’t stop your stomach from churning, causing you to panic at the thought of spilling your lunch in front of everyone eyeing the glass box you're hidden behind; it could only ever do so much. Everyone can see your usually tantalizing persona fly out the window, a frail—shattered—girl taking your place.

He’s tricked you. He made you let your guard down, let him in, and then ramshackled you whole; and he hadn’t been nice about it either. How could you have ever thought he would choose you over someone who actually held his kid for nine months? You had seen the messages that sunny morning; birds chirped, flowers bloomed. He had been busy doing God knows what, and when his bright laptop dinged, you couldn’t help but peek. As you once told him; you loved gossip.

Jack is asking if you remember where he last left his stuffed bear? You know, the one with the white spots?

Susie. You had heard a lot about her—you’ve read, a lot, too— she was someone to admire. Helped create a path of perseverance for young girls; it was astonishing. The thought of Jack made you smile, then the bear, then her. Which is why you aimlessly scrolled once, playfully, and then you came to a rude halt.

If someone were to grovel that way for you, you would helplessly fall for it. Fuck, he pratically begged for a second chance. Heat weaved through your body, anger rising, and then falling cruelly with a sense of undeniable ache. You had cried; sobbed. Then you got ready for work.

When he had asked what was wrong, you wanted to stab him with the nearby knife, and the thought scared you half to death. You could tell he was deeply wounded by the cold shoulder, but why the fuck should you care?

Here—in Machiavellian Nights—trapped behind a transparent case, with disgusting men eyefucking you, you realize; there’s no place to run. An attraction is what you are; tourists are what they all represent. Toto’s massive figure swallowed his seat whole, long legs spread open naturally. And you hate it how handsome he looks, dark clouds painting his usually happy eyes. His chest dances up and down, wrestling to catch a breath. The hollers make him flinch in the slightest, grimacing.

The Austrian is apologizing, cryptically. I’m sorry—I’m so fucking sorry. His lips aren't moving, but you can hear his pleads as the music continues.

C’mon! Dance, someone demands from afar, rough hand smacking the glass. Gasping, you purse your lips, continuing. Ignorance is horrible; especially coming from you. The idea of going on without you feel like a nightmare—torture. He tries standing up, and he doesn’t really know what his game plan is exactly in order to get to you, but heads turn and harsh arms force him back down.

It isn’t that hard, boy. To like you, or love you. It was as if you got yanked back into what is truly your reality. You can’t have good things in life. Your father hadn’t died—he had abandoned you. Your mother did too. And Toto…

Toto Wolff was just the same.

You’re glad no one can hear you choking back on tears, you wouldn't dare to fall. But emotions were running high, your throat felt raw, your eyes stung, knees felt wobbly, and it was too much. But aside from your hurt, an eerie feeling hugged your chest, forcing your rib cage to poke you as a warning. You allow yourself to look back up, rapidly scanning the unlit room. Everything was blurry—which didn’t help—but what was it?

You’re no longer focused; your legs sway, your gartner slides down, your nose is starting to get runny, and it was all a mess. Connecting your gaze back to his, you narrow them down like deathly blades. This is all your fault, they scream at him, enraged. If you hadn’t walked into my life, then I wouldn’t be this way.

You’re screwed up and brilliant.

“You fucking ruined me!” Running towards the glass, you violently slap and punch, over and over until you no longer feel any pain. Red bruises form rather quickly and everyone begins to murmur.

Look like a million dollar man.

“I hate you, Toto Wolff!” Muffled whimpers flow like a waterfall as everyone turns to face the fifty-two year old who sits with a hurt expression.

“I can explain,” he pleads, instantly rising up to his scary height and rushing over to where you’re caged. His large hand pathetically grasps it, fingerprints painting the shiny protection between you and him. “Sweetheart…”

So why is my heart broke?

“I’ll regret you for the rest of my—”

Chaos ensues; the volcano erupts. It’s suffocating, the way everyone tramples over one another, scattering like lab rats. The yells of terror make his blood run ice cold, swiftly turning around to face the open room. Foxy lets out a scream filled with agony as she crawls over to the stage. Acid slides down her face, makeup running. The other dancers run to hide where the bartender stands with his mouth wide open, orbs flickering with urgency. He doesn’t know what the hell is going on, but he has to get you out of here.

“Open it!” Foxy cries, hands hitting the clear box so forcefully that her nails begin to chip, light gore beginning to slide down. “Open the fucking stage right now!” She lets out a string of pleas, but no one is listening—they can’t even try to with all the loud noise. The alarms go off and that’s what snaps him out of his spot of confusion and what makes her cry and fall back against her arms.

The glass isn’t shattered like in the movies, all over the floor, no. There’s just a singular hole, scratches circling around it—and spikes of blood coloring the crystal clear mirror.

Even with eyes closed, face sticky with tears, and blood spurting out of your mouth and chest, pooling around your angelic body, you were still beautiful. The ring lays flat atop your unbeating heart, shining one last time against the cherry lights. You were gone as soon as the bullet hit, but Toto was the last person you had seen. And you wish you had time to tell him you never meant any of it. You could never hate him; you loved him, you loved him, you loved him.

“I…no. No. No.” Fists punch urgently, cuts finding a place in his pale skin. “Open it!” More pounds. “Let her out! Why is no one letting her out?” Trepidation sleeks over him as he stops his actions, taking a second to look at you. Your dark wings had somehow turned darker, your white dress is now drowned in crimson red, your halo is no longer on your head, and your lively skin is now ghostly pale, almost gray. “Peaches…” His voice quivers so much, he almost doesn't realize it's coming from him. “Get up, sweetheart—come on, just stand.”

His chest tightens when you go unresponding. “T-think about Rosie! She loves you; she needs you. I need you,” he declares, voice cracking. “The text messages are a mishap! I only love you, Peaches, that’s all! I swear I do, I swear it’s you…”

He dreads to turn around and face what was now his life. The music cuts, but the frightful screams continue. Toto blinks back the stingy feeling as he flickers up to make eye contact with who’s responsible for ripping you away from him.

You share the same eyes, but hers are sullen now. Her hair looks as if it could have once been glossy, but is now as dry as the desert. Her lips are nastily chapped, but an uncanny curl slips through as she ticks anxiously when Ro and the rest of the guards hold her without an ounce of remorse, cuffing skinny, needled wrists.

Your mother looks down at the gun, at her daughter, then at Toto. An unhinged stare strikes her impentent face.

“I brought her into this world…I can also take her out.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

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sinofwriting · 1 year ago

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Water Bottle - Max Verstappen (I ❤️ MILFS verse)

Words: 546 Summary: Logan has a thing about water. Note(s): Takes place in 2024, Japan GP. Also just like 2023, the 2024 season will be different with different point scorers and events. (Part of the I ❤️ MILFS verse)

Masterlist | Support Me! | Part of Sin's 5k & B-Day Celebration | I ❤️ MILFS verse

Logan was horrible at drinking water, Max had come to find out. Or rather, was horrible at remembering to carry water around. If it was in his hand, he’d remember it and drink it. If it wasn’t though, forget it.

It was surprisingly endearing the way Logan would just forget water existed as soon as his water bottle was out of his hands. Max knew it drove Pan crazy, he had seen the way she pushed water into his hand constantly, but now, and he can’t help but grin, that was his job.

Passing a bottle of water to Logan, he pats the younger on the shoulder before joining him on the sofa. It was a relief to be right at the end, Logan next to him, then Lando, Esteban, and Kevin. The latter two drivers had made his nose wrinkle a bit when his press officer told him his schedule.

As the interviewer begins with talking to Kevin, Max lets himself zone out, looking at the rest of the people in the room, observing them.

He briefly registers Esteban beginning to speak, when the very quiet muffled sound of Lando laughing hits his ears. It makes his eyebrow raise and he glances to look at him. Lando’s face is slightly pink as he tries to stifle his laugh. Max has to give him that’s doing a somewhat good job at it. Better than he ever did last year, at least.

As he looks at Lando, wondering what made him crack up, the corner of his eye catches on Logan and his attention immediately shifts.

The younger was frowning at his lap, and Max looks down and sees him staring at the water bottle in his hands, his dominant hands fingers struggling with the cap.

Max looks over at Esteban as the Frenchman says his name, nearly rolling his eyes at the shit joke of him winning everything.

“Well,” he begins, reaching over grabbing the water from Logan. “It’s the car and the team really. I mean, the car just feels excellent. How is the car for you Esteban?” He asks, passing the now opened water back to Logan and cap, giving a small tap to the bottom of the bottle and smiling when immediately Logan takes a drink.

His attention refocuses on Esteban only to see him looking at him slack jawed.

“What?” He asks, confused. But as he looks at Kevin, the interviewer and the other people in the room, they all have the same response. Lando even is no longer laughing, having the same expression as everyone else. Looking at Logan, the American shrugs, just as confused as him.

“Did you,” the interview starts.

“Did I what?”

The interviewer’s mouth opens, then closes.

“Did you just open Logan’s water for him?”

Max looks at Lando in confusion. “Yes. Why? What’s the problem?”

The Brit continues to look at him, slack jawed. “Mate,” he finally manages to say.

“What?” Max shrugs. “Can we go back to questions about Australia?” He sends a sorry look to Logan, who just shrugs. And Max in response can’t help but ruffle his kid’s hair. One of these days he really was going to go into Williams garage and strangle James Vowles, one of these days, he sighed.

@spookystitchery @saintchxx4 @lovecarsgoingvroom @bloodyymaryyy @lilipiggytails

#max verstappen imagine #logan sargeant imagine #f1 imagine #formula 1 imagine #sins 5k bday bash fics #I ❤️ MILFS verse #sins fics

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misspygmypie · 10 months ago

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Meet & Greet... and more? Pt. 3

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader Words: 2509 Click here for Part 2

Please do not repost, thank you, and leave some feedback :)

Lando was pacing around the McLaren motorhome, his nerves turning his usual confident stride into a jittery shuffle. Every few moments he’d glance at his phone or look up at the entrance, eagerly anticipating Y/N and Noah’s arrival. Oscar leaned casually against a nearby wall, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

“Lando,” he said with a grin, “you’re acting like you’re about to meet the King or something.”

Lando shot him a glance, a bit embarrassed. “I know, I know. It’s just… I’ve been looking forward to this for so long. It’s going to be great to finally hang out with them again.”

Oscar chuckled and shook his head. Just then one of the team assistants approached the two of them. “Lando, Y/N and Noah have just arrived. They’re in the hospitality area waiting for you.”

Lando’s eyes lit up and he immediately straightened up, his nervousness transforming into a burst of energy. “Great, thanks” he smiled at the assistant and then turned to Oscar, who was still grinning. “Come on, you’re coming with me. I need moral support.”

Oscar followed, chuckling softly. As they made their way through the McLaren motorhome Lando’s steps were hurried and awkward. He glanced over at Oscar who raised an amused eyebrow at his friend but kept his mouth shut and just when they approached the hospitality area, Lando’s excitement got the best of him.

He was so focused on the approaching meeting that he didn’t see a small plant at the edge of the path. He tripped over it, stumbling forward with an exaggerated flail of his arms. For a brief moment he looked like he was about to take a dive but managed to catch himself at the last second.

Oscar burst into laughter, shaking his head. “Well, you’ve certainly made an entrance.”

Lando groaned awkwardly as he straightened himself, trying to regain his composure. “Fantastic. Just what I needed,” he said, brushing himself off.

He found Y/N and Noah chatting near the refreshments table, their laughter filling the space and he felt his heart race as he approached them, a broad smile spreading across his face.

“You made it” he called out, his voice a little louder than he intended. He extended his arms for a hug, his face beaming.

“Lando! It’s so good to see you” Y/N stepped forward and gave him a warm hug, while Noah followed suit, his small arms clinging onto Lando’s legs.

“I’m so glad you could come,” Lando said, holding onto the lingering hug with Y/N a bit longer before stepping back and crouching down to embrace the little boy as well. “I’ve been counting down the days. I hope you’re ready for a fun weekend!”

Oscar, standing slightly to the side, watched the reunion with a grin. He wanted to give them a few moments before interrupting but eventually decided to say hello as well.

“It’s great to see you both again. I’ve been looking forward to catching up.”

Y/N smiled warmly. “It’s good to see you too, Oscar. Noah’s been excited about the weekend!”

Oscar leaned down a bit so Noah didn’t have to look up so much. “How’s my favorite little car enthusiast doing?”

Noah’s eyes lit up as he replied, “I’m really great!”

The Australian chuckled at the boy’s enthusiasm and ruffled the 4-year-old’s hair before turning back to the young woman and his teammate.

“Well, I’m gonna get some breakfast. Enjoy the day, Lando and try not to trip over any more plants, okay?”

Lando shot him a mock glare as Oscar gave him a playful salute and wandered off. The Brit decided to ignore his friend and turned back to his two guests. “Now follow me, I’ve got something special planned for you!”

Noah’s eyes grew even wider. “The surprise?”

“That’s right,” Lando said with a playful grin.

Lando led them to a private area of the paddock that was sectioned off from the usual hustle and bustle. As they got closer Noah noticed a sleek kids version of a McLaren parked in the center of the area. The car was customized with vibrant colors and designs that matched Lando’s race car and it even had Noah’s name printed on the side.

“This,” Lando said, “is for you, Noah. It’s a special car that you can take for a spin around a small track we’ve set up just for today. It’s a little gift to thank you for being such a big fan and for coming out to the race.”

Noah’s mouth dropped open in awe. “This is amazing! Can I really drive it?”

Lando nodded, chuckling. “Absolutely! I’ll be right here to help you get started. And don’t worry, it’s all safe and ready for a fun ride.”

With Lando’s assistance the boy hopped into the car. His face lit up while Lando walked him through the basics of driving and soon Noah was zooming around the mini track with a huge grin on his face. Y/N watched from the sidelines, her heart swelling with happiness at seeing her son’s joy. Lando stood beside her clearly enjoying the moment as much as they were.

While Noah gleefully drove the car around the small track, his laughter echoing through the area, Y/N and Lando found a quiet spot to catch up.

“So, how have you two been?”

Y/N smiled warmly, appreciating the chance to chat with Lando. “We’ve been doing great. Noah’s been so excited about this trip, it’s all he’s talked about since I told him.”

Lando’s eyes softened as he watched the boy drive around. “He’s really loving it out there. It’s great to see him so happy.”

“Thank you for making it so special for him,” Y/N said. “It means a lot to both of us.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I just hope he’s having as much fun as I am watching him.”

There was a brief pause as they both observed Noah, who was now expertly maneuvering the car with a look of pure concentration on his face. Lando broke the silence, his tone gentle. “If you don’t mind me asking, how’s Noah’s dad doing? I remember you mentioned it’s just you two.”

Y/N sighed softly. “Noah’s dad... well, he actually left us shortly after Noah was born. It’s been just Noah and me since then.”

“That’s awful, Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s been tough at times,” Y/N admitted, “but we’ve made it work. Noah is my world and we’ve found our way together.”

Lando nodded, his gaze returning to Noah. Seeing the bond between Y/N and her son stirred something within him, making him wonder what it might be like to be in a father’s shoes.

“He’s a strong kid, and it’s clear he’s got a lot of joy in him. You’ve done an amazing job raising him.”

Y/N’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she looked at Noah, who was now beaming with pride as he completed another lap. “Thank you, Lando. It hasn’t always been easy but seeing him so excited and having experiences like this makes it all worth it.”

Just then Noah hopped out of the car, his eyes sparkling with happiness. “Mommy, Lando, that was so much fun!”

“You did an amazing job out there, bud,” he padded the kid on the back, “I’m glad you had fun but it’s time for me to get ready for qualifying.”

_____

Lando had arranged for Y/N and Noah to have special access to the Paddock Club so they could watch the action up close. With their passes in hand they followed the team’s guide to a prime viewing spot overlooking the track. As the drivers lined up for the start of the qualifying session Lando’s car was easy to spot among the others, thanks to its vibrant McLaren colors and the bright neon yellow on top. Noah bounced in his seat, his eyes glued to the track. “Look, Mommy! There’s Lando’s car!”

Y/N smiled and nodded. “I see it. Let’s cheer him on and hope he does well.”

Meanwhile, Lando sat in his McLaren, feeling an unusual wave of nervousness that he rarely experienced. Normally racing was his element, a place of comfort and focus but today was different.

Come on, Lando, focus, he thought, gripping the steering wheel tightly as he settled into the driver’s seat. He cast a quick glance to where Y/N and Noah were situated, their faces bright with support. I don’t want to let them down.

Lando’s hands trembled slightly as he adjusted his gloves and took a deep breath. The thought of Noah’s eager eyes and Y/N’s warm, encouraging smile filled him with both excitement and pressure.

He shifted his gaze back to the track, the roar of the engines growing louder as the first qualifying round approached its start. The session began and Lando’s car sped through the circuit. Despite his nerves his driving remained sharp and precise. As Lando completed each lap, Y/N and Noah cheered loudly, Noah waved his flag shouting, “Go, Lando!” His enthusiasm was infectious and Y/N joined in, clapping and cheering along with the rest of the crowd.

When the session neared its end the tension was at its peak, Lando was pushing hard for a top spot and the final laps were crucial. Y/N and Noah held their breath as Lando crossed the finish line, completing his last qualifying run.

The screen displayed the results and Lando’s name appeared in top position. Y/N could hardly contain her excitement, her eyes sparkling as she looked at Noah, who was practically vibrating with energy. “We did it, Noah! Lando’s done an amazing job!”

Noah’s face beamed. “I knew he could do it! We should find him and tell him he did great!”

“Absolutely" Y/N nodded. When they finally found him he was surrounded by his team but his face lit up when he spotted the two of them.

“Hey, you two! How was the qualifying? Did you have a good view?”

Noah, still buzzing with excitement, practically launched himself into his arms. “You were amazing! We were cheering so loud!”

Lando laughed, the nervous tension finally melting away as he hugged Noah tightly. He then turned to Y/N with a smile. “Thank you for coming and cheering me on, it means a lot to have you both here.”

“Are we going to have dinner now?” The 4-year-old demanded to know.

“Actually, that’s exactly what I wanted to ask you," Lando’s smile grew even wider. "I was hoping you both would join me for dinner after all the media duties are finished. It would be great to spend more time together.”

Y/N’s eyes lit up. “That sounds wonderful.”

“Great! The hotel has a fantastic restaurant that I think you’ll both enjoy. Let me just wrap up a few things here and then we can head out.”

_________

As the evening went on Lando, Y/N and little Noah were seated comfortably at a corner table providing them with a bit more privacy.

Noah had been his usual energetic self throughout the meal, eagerly sampling different dishes and asking Lando endless questions about race cars. But as the main courses were cleared away and the desserts were brought to the table - rich chocolate cake, creamy tiramisu and a delicious looking fruit tart - Noah’s eyelids grew heavy.

His head gradually drooped and he settled into a more comfortable position. Not too long after he was curled up on Lando’s lap, his breathing steady and relaxed as he drifted off to sleep. Lando didn’t mind at all, in fact he found the weight of the small body resting against him peaceful and comforting.

They continued to chat, their conversation flowing easily as they enjoyed their desserts. Lando found himself sharing more about his life outside the track, his interests, the places he’d traveled and the rituals he had before races. Y/N spoke about her experiences as a parent, the joys and challenges of raising Noah and her own passions and hobbies.

The conversation drifted naturally, touching on everything from favorite books and movies to their dreams and aspirations. With Noah peacefully asleep on Lando’s lap, they both felt a sense of intimacy that allowed them to open up in a way they hadn’t before.

After they had finished their desserts Y/N glanced at the time on her phone and sighed. “I suppose it’s time to get some sleep but I want to thank you again, Lando. Today has been really wonderful.”

“The pleasure was all mine. I’m glad you two were able to come visit me.”

Y/N gently stirred Noah, intending to awaken the boy for their short journey to the room, however, Lando stopped her. “Let me handle this,” he said softly. “He looks so peaceful, I’d hate to wake him.”

Lando carefully lifted Noah into his arms, cradling him to his chest. Though the little boy stirred slightly he remained asleep, nestled comfortably against Lando’s chest, his small arms wrapping themselves around the man’s neck. Lando adjusted his hold to ensure Noah stayed cozy and secure all the way up to their room.

After Noah was finally placed in their hotel bed and Y/N made sure he was comfortable, adjusting the blanket to keep him warm, she turned to Lando with a tired but genuine smile. “Thank you for everything tonight.”

Lando’s heart swelled as he looked at her, feeling his heart skip a beat being so close to her. There was an almost palpable tension between them, a pull that made him want to close the distance and kiss her. His gaze lingered on her lips for a moment. He could feel the desire but he decided against it, sensing that it might not be the right time.

“The pleasure was all mine,” he said softly with a warm, reassuring smile. “I’ve enjoyed every moment of today and I can’t wait for more fun tomorrow. I hope Noah sleeps well and that you get some rest too.”

With a final, lingering glance at her, Lando took a deep breath and turned toward the door. His footsteps were quiet as he made his way out of the hotel room. He closed the door behind him and paused for a moment before sighing deeply and finally making his way to his own room. He felt a pang of sadness at having to leave her for the night.

Lando remembered the fun they had shared, helping Noah with his food, hearing Y/N’s laughter over silly memories he shared and the peaceful moments with Noah curled up on his lap. The idea of spending more time with them made his heart melt. He could already envision future dinners, playful moments with Noah and deep conversations with Y/N. He realized he was not just falling for Y/N but falling in love with the entire idea of being a part of their little family.

_________

Click here for Part 4!

Tag: @barcelonaloverf1life @remmysthings @poppyflower-22 @vickykazuya @hadids-world @eloriis @emxlando @lexiecampos @littlegrapejuice @yawn-zi @landossainz

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

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amirasainz · 9 months ago

Note

Could you please do reader is Pierre or Daniel girlfriend and he’s so soft for her but she’s Lando bestfriend’s and him and Lando always fight over her, fluffy please with Lando being dramatic little shit?

Yay, I love this idea.

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo

The Brit and the Croissant

The paddock was buzzing with the usual chaos of a race weekend. Engineers hustled around the garages, drivers huddled with their teams, and fans filled the grandstands, eager to catch a glimpse of their favorite racers. Y/N stood at the entrance of the Alpine garage, her eyes scanning the scene for a familiar figure. The roar of engines and the scent of burning rubber filled the air, but all she cared about was finding him—Pierre Gasly, her boyfriend and the love of her life.

She spotted him adjusting his helmet, his usual confident smirk on display as he chatted with his race engineer. Pierre's eyes met hers, and his expression immediately softened. His cocky smile was replaced with a gentle one, reserved only for her.

“Mon amour!” Pierre called out, walking over and pulling her into his arms. He kissed her forehead, holding her close. “I missed you.”

Y/N laughed softly, running her fingers through his messy hair. “I saw you two hours ago, Pierre.”

“Two hours too long,” he mumbled into her hair, tightening his embrace.

Y/N loved how soft he was with her, how he let his guard down completely. On the track, he was fierce and competitive, but with her, he was a different person. She kissed him lightly on the lips, but before they could get lost in their little bubble, a familiar voice interrupted them.

“Ugh, get a room, you two,” Lando groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes as he sauntered over, wearing his bright McLaren suit and a pout that would rival a toddler. “You’re always hogging her, Gasly.”

Pierre glanced at Lando, a smirk forming. “Jealous, Norris?”

“No,” Lando scoffed, but his face said otherwise. He turned to Y/N, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Come on, Y/N. You promised you’d hang out with me today, and someone”—he shot Pierre a pointed look—“keeps stealing you away.”

Y/N chuckled, enjoying their little rivalry. “I’m not an object, you know. I can hang out with both of you.”

Lando placed a hand over his heart, dramatically sighing as if he’d been wounded. “Wow, Y/N, my best friend, my number one supporter…betrayed.” He wiped an imaginary tear, causing Y/N to burst into laughter.

Pierre rolled his eyes, though he was smiling. “You’re such a drama queen, Lando.”

“Says the guy who throws a fit every time he doesn’t get his favorite croissants,” Lando shot back, making Y/N giggle. Pierre’s love for pastries was notorious in the paddock.

“Touché,” Y/N teased, nudging Pierre playfully. “I have to give him that one.”

Pierre feigned a wounded look, leaning against the wall dramatically. “Et tu, mon amour? You wound me.”

Y/N placed a hand on his cheek, her thumb brushing lightly against his stubbled skin. “You know you’re my favorite French drama queen.”

Before Pierre could reply, Lando grabbed Y/N’s hand, pulling her towards the McLaren garage. “Come on, Y/N. Let’s go prank Oscar. I’ve got some rubber snakes that he’s definitely not going to like.”

Y/N shot Pierre an apologetic look, but he just waved them off, his expression soft. “Have fun. But remember, I get her back later.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lando said dismissively, already plotting mischief. “We’ll return her in one piece.”

Pierre watched them walk away, his heart swelling as he saw Y/N’s bright smile. He loved her friendship with Lando, even if it meant sharing her attention more than he would have liked. Lando might be his rival on the track, but off it, the three of them had a bond that was rare and precious.

---

The day passed in a blur of laughter and chaos. Lando’s prank on Oscar had been a roaring success, ending with Oscar chasing Lando around the garage while Y/N tried—and failed—to stop laughing. They spent the afternoon joking around, watching practice sessions, and taking silly selfies, much to the amusement of the McLaren team.

But as evening approached, Y/N found herself missing Pierre. She loved Lando like a brother, but Pierre was her heart. She slipped away from the McLaren hospitality, making her way back to the Alpine motorhome.

Pierre was waiting for her, sitting on the steps with his phone in hand. When he saw her approaching, his face lit up, and he stood up to greet her.

“Back so soon?” he teased, though his eyes were full of warmth.

“I missed you,” Y/N admitted, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his chest.

Pierre kissed the top of her head, rubbing her back soothingly. “I missed you too, chérie. Did you and Lando have fun?”

“Yeah, but he’s such a handful,” Y/N said, pulling back to look up at him. “He’s like a hyperactive puppy.”

Pierre chuckled, nodding in agreement. “That’s why you’re good for him. You keep him grounded. But… I’m glad you’re back with me.”

Y/N smiled, feeling the familiar flutter in her chest whenever he looked at her like that. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Just as they were sharing a quiet moment, Lando’s voice broke through the calm. “Oi! Lovebirds! I’m still here, you know.”

Pierre sighed, turning to see Lando leaning against the wall, watching them with a fake pout. “Don’t you have somewhere to be, Norris?”

“Yeah, with you two. This is quality third-wheeling right here,” Lando said, unabashed. He sidled up beside Y/N, looping an arm around her shoulders. “Seriously though, Y/N, we need to plan more best friend days. Pierre hogs you way too much.”

Y/N laughed, pulling both boys into a side hug. “I don’t know how I got stuck with the two of you, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Pierre kissed her temple, his voice soft. “We’re lucky to have you, Y/N.”

Lando rolled his eyes but smiled anyway. “Yeah, yeah. But remember, Y/N, I was here first.”

Pierre glanced at Lando, raising an eyebrow. “And yet, she’s still with me, Norris.”

“Only because she pities you,” Lando shot back, sticking his tongue out like a child.

Y/N groaned, hiding her face in her hands as Pierre and Lando continued their playful bickering. It was ridiculous how they always fought over her, but she wouldn’t trade it for anything. Their banter was the heartbeat of her days, and no matter how much they squabbled, she knew deep down that they cared for each other in their own weird, competitive way.

---

Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, the three of them found themselves sitting on the grass, watching the track lights twinkle in the distance. Y/N sat between Pierre and Lando, her head resting on Pierre’s shoulder while Lando kept talking animatedly about his plans to prank Max next.

“You two are exhausting,” Y/N said, her voice laced with affection.

Pierre squeezed her hand, his thumb tracing circles on her skin. “But you love us.”

“Unfortunately,” Y/N joked, earning a laugh from both boys.

Lando bumped her shoulder with his, smiling softly. “You’re the best, Y/N. Thanks for putting up with us.”

Pierre nodded, his expression full of tenderness as he gazed at her. “Thank you for being the peace between us.”

Y/N looked between the two most important people in her life and grinned. “Always. You’re both stuck with me.”

And in that moment, with the night sky above them and the sounds of the track in the background, everything felt perfect. They were an unlikely trio, but they fit together in the best way possible, and no amount of bickering or teasing could change that.

They were family.

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #lando norris x reader #pierre gasly x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #lando norris x y/n #pierre gasly #pierre gasly x y/n #-xoxo #xoxo babygirl 💋

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littlegrapejuice · 2 months ago

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Love Story | OB87

Pairing: Ollie Bearman x Reader

Summary: Although secret, your relationship with Ollie is meaningful. And not even a protective dad can put an end to it.

Author's Note: my first time writing for ollie!! He's fr such a pookie and I'm so happy to have had inspo for him🤭 this is obv a taytay ref, based off that one recent interview in which ollie said he loves love story hehe

F1 MASTERLIST🏎

You were both young when you first saw Oliver Bearman.

Closing your eyes, the flashback started.

It was not really an unusual meeting, more so amusing to you.

As Fred Vasseur’s daughter, it was not surprising to see you in the paddock during a race weekend. You had been accompanying your father since you were a kid, as he went from managing one team to another. Your current home in Formula 1 was Ferrari since your father became its team principal, and you couldn’t dream of being anywhere else. Red looked good on you, and you were always proudly wearing the team’s merch for every race.

It often led to you being mistaken as an actual employee, which did happen when you first met Ollie.

You had obviously heard of him as he was part of the Ferrari Academy, but you had never talked to him until the 2024 Saudi Arabian Grand Prix. Ollie, who had been competing in Formula 2 during the same weekend, had been called in at the last minute to replace Carlos. Reserve driver duties came first, and so he ended up racing for Ferrari rather than Prema.

Your first conversation with Ollie happened after qualifying. You had been in Ferrari’s garage talking with Charles, when Ollie made his way through the crowd of engineers towards the two of you.

“Hello”, he said.

“Hey, Ollie. Congrats on P11,” Charles told him. “That’s good for a first qualifying session!”

“Thanks! Congrats are more in order for you, though. You got P2!” Ollie reminded him with a smile, excited for the other Ferrari to start on the front row.

“Yeah, the margins weren’t close enough. But we’ll do what we can.”

You had stayed silent during the exchange, until you met Ollie’s eyes. You gave him a soft smile, and introduced yourself:

“Nice to meet you!” You offered him your hand, which he shook., before putting your hand on his shoulder and letting it linger there longer than it should have. “Congrats for making it to F1!” Your praise made him blush a little, which made you find him even cuter than you already thought he was.

“Thank you!” His smile was blinding, as if he had been blessed by the sun itself. “Are you one of Ferrari’s engineers?” He genuinely wondered. He thought you were pretty, and he hoped it wouldn’t be the last time he would see you.

“Oh no, I don’t work here!” You told him.

“Might as well do with how long you’ve been hanging around here”, Charles pointed out with a chuckle. “The team kit is kinda misleading.”

“Sorry for supporting my father’s team! You should be glad to have me here,” you said with a scoff.

“Your father?” Ollie asked.

You were about to confirm your identity, but someone else did it for you.

“Ah, Ollie! I see you’ve met my daughter!” None other than Fred Vasseur had come up to the three of you, before he clasped a hand on the Brit’s shoulder.

“Yeah… like two minutes ago”, Ollie replied. He was unsure how to react, now that he knew you were his boss’s daughter.

“It’ll be nice for you, Ollie. She’s the only one close to your age around here,” Charles explained. “You should get along well.”

“Not too well, I hope.” Fred was laughing, his French accent prominent, but his tone was still made to act as a warning to Ollie.

You weren’t even surprised by your father’s words. If there was one thing he always made sure of: you wouldn’t date a driver.

“We’ve just met”, you emphasised with a sigh. “We’re not eloping.”

“You better not.”

While Charles was smirking at the exchange – he knew your father had made you off-limits to anyone on the grid who was relatively close to you in age, Ollie was petrified. The young driver was now scared to even try to befriend you, not wanting to end his already short racing career in Formula 1.

And when your father asked Charles to take you somewhere else in the paddock, Ollie was already accepting his fate. He was expecting to be scolded for ever laying eyes on you, and even imagined Fred ordering Charles to run him off track tomorrow.

“I really like you, Ollie. But you stay away from her if you can’t be just friends with her.”

“Yes, sir.” Ollie tried to maintain a neutral face, as he bit the inside of his cheek.

“You’re a nice guy,” Fred concluded with a smile. “She’s everything to me, and I’m glad if she can get more friends around here. But no dating.”

“Yes, sir.” Ollie could repeat himself, too nervous to say anything else. “Just friends.”

“Good, I knew you would understand.” Fred smiled, now abandoning his father persona and turning back to being the cheerful team principal who everyone loved. “You can go join her wherever they went, and have a friendly hangout.”

Ollie gulped, and nodded. He followed the direction in which you and Charles had left, quickly finding your voices outside of Ferrari hospitality.

“Can't you talk to him?” You pleaded. “My dad loves you, you can vouch for Ollie.”

“He does like Ollie, you know. It’s not targeted towards him,” Charles claimed. “He’ll do that to any guy approaching you, however well-intentioned they are.”

“But what if I want to date that guy?” You argued, pouting. “I swear he treats me like a kid.”

“Well, you are his kid. And be glad he doesn’t prevent you from having friends as well.”

“That’d be insane.” You sighed, not liking the situation. “I’m perfectly capable of choosing my relationships, friends or not.”

Charles gave you an apologetic smile, before ruffling your hair. Wanting to lift your spirits, he decided to joke:

“If you’re really determined to try it out with Ollie, just hide it.” He shrugged, showing that he wasn’t serious. “I’d keep your secret.”

“That’s not dumb”, you said with a pensive smile.

Charles thought that your smile meant you weren’t upset anymore with your dad. But actually, it meant that you were scheming.

When the conversation died down, Ollie realised that he had just stood there for the entirety of it and therefore showed himself.

“Ollie!” You grinned at him, ready to put your plan into action. “Sorry for whatever my dad might’ve said to you.”

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t, but Ollie didn’t want to badmouth your own dad in front of you.

“I guess we can still be friends?” You asked him, hope filling your eyes. When Ollie nodded, the smile on your face widened. “Are you free right now? We can hang out wherever!”

“I’d like that, yeah.”

Glad that you were still able to become friends, Charles softly smiled at the sight of you and Ollie. He notified you that he’d leave you two, and wished you a good night. You waved at Charles, before taking Ollie’s hand and dragging him towards the paddock exit.

As you left the track together, conversation naturally flowed between you and Ollie. He told you about his current career in F2, and how thankful he was to have a chance in F1. He asked you about your life, wondering about how it was to grow up in paddocks and garages.

And despite having different experiences, it was easy for the two of you to relate to one another. You were both part of the racing world, surrounded by cars and the sound of their engines since your childhood.

In the span of only one evening, a deep bond had been created between you and Ollie. You told him things you had never told anyone before, surprised at how easy it was to share your life with him. He made you comfortable, made you laugh, made you happy.

So when you had to part ways as it was becoming late, Ollie internally cursed your father for not giving him a chance. But if strictly being friends meant that he could keep hanging out with you, then Ollie would repress any initial attraction he had felt when meeting you earlier.

Which proved to be hard, when you kissed his cheek before bidding him goodbye.

And it got even harder, when he ended up P7 in the race on the next day.

You had obviously celebrated Charles’s podium at the track. But in the quiet of the paddock after the post-race clammer got quieter, you had found Ollie and offered to celebrate his debut points.

Just the two of you.

“We’re friends now”, you had claimed. “Friends celebrate each other’s achievements.”

And he had agreed with your statement. Until your hangout in the streets of Jeddah didn’t feel so friendly anymore when your hand brushed against his. Once. Twice. Until he was the one to cave in and take your hand in his, a nervous smile on his face. His face was redder than your Ferrari polo shirt. But under the lights, the blush on Ollie’s cheeks just made him even more beautiful to your eyes.

You didn’t kiss that night. Didn’t acknowledge that it had eventually become a date as hours passed. But the feelings were definitely there, and it was just the start of a love story between the two of you.

…..

Opening your eyes, you took in your surroundings. You were laying in bed – Ollie’s bed, in his hotel room that you had crashed the previous night. The curtains were slightly open, and you could see the faint light coming from the Saudi Arabian sun.

You were back in Jeddah, a year later.

A lot had happened in a year: you had started dating Ollie – your father was obviously not aware of it. You and Ollie were still ‘friends’ to him, albeit very close friends. So to hide it the best you can, you ‘hired’ some people.

It would’ve been suspicious if all of a sudden you were going to F2 races just to see Ollie. So you became friends with his friends, and you didn’t hesitate to share the news with your dad. You were quite surprised at how he never noticed, but you figured that the group pictures always showing you and Ollie being far from each other were enough of a distraction.

And when Ollie eventually raced twice for Haas at the end of the season, it wasn’t suspicious of you to visit him in his garage. Your support for him was quite public, but always just the right amount of friendliness to not bring attention to it.

So a year later, you were still getting away with dating Ollie in secret. And it had become even easier to hide it now that he was in F1, as you could share flights and hotels – Kimi, Gabriel, and Isack never too far away just in case.

It was meaningful for you to be back there, where it all started.

You couldn’t be prouder of your boyfriend, and your support was everything to him. Support that you showed him after every session of the weekend.

“Ollie, take me somewhere we can be alone. I’ll be waiting.”

This was something that often occurred between you two. It was one thing to only be friendly in public, but you still needed to spend romantic time with him. So it wasn’t unusual for you to sneak into Ollie's driver room to see him, keeping quiet because you would be dead if anyone knew.

“Close your eyes,” you would tell Ollie while laying in his arms. “Escape the paddock for a little while, just rest.”

You would then simply stay together like that, cuddling for what felt like hours until Ollie’s engineer would call for him and you would have to go back to Ferrari as if nothing had ever happened. You would share a quick but loving kiss before Ollie checked the surroundings and gave you the green light to leave his garage.

You didn’t know how much longer you could actually keep it a secret, but you stopped thinking about it when you saw Ollie enter his room after he had showered. Everything else didn’t matter anymore every time you laid your eyes on him.

Straightening against the bedhead, you softly smiled as Ollie finished getting dressed. You observed his face, the expression he harboured, his curls, his eyes. You could only admire him.

Sensing your gaze on him, Ollie looked at you. He tilted his head in confusion, silently asking you if you needed anything.

“Everything alright?”

“Everything’s perfect,” you replied.

“Do I have something on my face?” He wondered as he went to sit on the edge of the bed.

“No, you’re just pretty.”

Ollie should be used to that, used to your compliments. But even after a year, he still wasn’t. He still blushed like he did when he first saw you, a smile – one of his that you loved so much – slowly making its way on his face.

Chuckling at his reaction, you crawled towards him before you kissed him on the cheek and stood up.

“I’ll get ready and then we can go to the track, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Ollie nodded, checking the time. “We’re meeting Kimi in twenty minutes,” he reminded you.

“Okay.”

As usual since the season had started, you would ask one of the rookies to arrive at the track with you and Ollie to not raise suspicions. Even if you were entering the paddock separately, people would always be watching what happened before and you would rather be safe than sorry.

…..

The race would be starting soon, and you debated making a quick trip to Haas to go wish Ollie luck. He was starting P15, and you knew he needed all the support he could get even though you wouldn’t be in his garage.

However, you got caught as you were about to leave Ferrari:

“Are you going to see your boyfriend?”

“Oh, Dad… hey!” You didn’t think that he would notice you, as he was usually on the grid by then. Suddenly nervous, you began stuttering. “M– my what?”

“Your boyfriend”, your father repeated. “I’m not stupid, I noticed that you’ve been sneaking around the paddock since the season began. Is it a driver?” He asked. “One of the rookies?”

“You know I wouldn’t date a driver”, you argued.

“And yet, I know you are.”

“What?”

“I wish you would’ve told me the truth yourself, but I’m not blind. So just tell me who he is.” Fred’s tone was stern, but there was a hint of worry in his voice as he was unsure whether you would trust him with the information.

“It’s… Ollie?” You admitted, waiting for his reaction.

“I don’t like that”, he simply said. “I want you to call it off.”

“You can’t ask me that!” You slightly raised your voice, appalled at what your father was asking of you. “I thought you liked Ollie!”

“As a friend for you, not some boyfriend who will break your heart. And when he does, you’ll still be in the same paddock. I don’t want you to get hurt,” he told you.

“He won’t hurt me”, you retorted. Your dad was about to speak again, but you interrupted him. “You can’t tell me to end things with him, I won’t.”

And with that, you left the Ferrari garage to go see Ollie. He immediately noticed something was wrong when you walked up to him with a frown on your face. He didn’t hesitate to hug you, resting his head on top of yours as he rubbed your back.

“Are you okay?” He asked you after a couple minutes.

“He knows…”

“Oh… I guess it didn’t go well?”

“Bingo,” you sarcastically confirmed. Taking a step back, you removed yourself from the warmth of Ollie’s arms around you and ran your fingers through your hair with a sigh. “He just said he didn’t approve, that you’ll hurt me, shit like that…”

“Because I’m a driver?”

“Amongst other things, but yes mostly. He’s tryna tell me how to feel, and said we should end things before it’s too late.”

“Will you?” Ollie knew you wouldn’t, but he still needed to make sure of it.

“Of course not! It might be difficult from now on, but our love is real and I wouldn’t trade it for anything else.”

“Okay, well… I kinda don’t like that your father is mad at you, but we’ll be fine. I hope”, Ollie tried to reassure you.

“Hope so too,” you mumbled. “Guess we just gotta make it out of this mess”, you added with a shrug. “But anyways, I originally came to wish you luck.”

“I’m starting P15, ain’t much I can’t do from here. But thanks, I really appreciate your support.” He took your hand in his, his thumb slowly starting to stroke your skin. “Do you want to watch the race here?”

“Honestly, I think it’s best I go back to Ferrari. I’m mad at my dad, but I still wanna be there for the team.”

“No problem.” Ollie liked your loyalty to your father’s team, knowing that you were also loyal to him at the same time. “I’ll see you after the race, yeah?”

“Yeah, come save me. I’ll probably be feeling alone if we get a podium and everyone’s out there celebrating Charles.”

“It’d be nice for him. He’s starting P4 so he’s got good chances”, Ollie pointed out. He then used his free hand to cup your cheek, before leaning down to kiss your lips. “I’ll come get you when I’m done with the media.”

“I’ll be waiting”, you told him with a soft smile – the one usually reserved for him.

Ollie stole one last kiss from you as ‘good luck’ before he reluctantly let go of you and turned back to make his way to the grid. You watched him go, and eventually went back to Ferrari. You hoped that your father had left the garage already, meaning that you wouldn’t have to face him until after the race. Fortunately for you, he was already sitting at the pit wall and you were peacefully able to grab your headphones before the formation lap was about to begin.

…..

As expected, Charles had managed to get the first Ferrari podium of the season. You knew this would be good for the team’s morale, and you were more than happy for the Monegasque.

Ollie had gained two positions during the race, putting him in P13 at the end. You knew he wouldn’t see it until he was done with his media duties, but you texted him anyway.

Well done ollie<3 you did your best and i’m proud of you

I’m hiding in charles room to avoid my dad

Text me when you’re there, ily

You figured that you had an hour to waste while waiting for your boyfriend to come get you, so you just got comfortable on Charles’s sofa.

Half an hour passed. You had watched everyone’s post-race interviews.

An hour passed. You had liked all the teams’ posts on social media.

An hour and a half passed. You didn’t have any news from Ollie.

Deep down, you knew that the most logical explanation was a post-race debrief that was lasting longer than usual. But still, it wasn’t like Ollie to not even notify you of the delay. So you texted him again and hoped that he would eventually look at his phone.

I’m waiting for you, you still haven’t come

Just worried ab you so please text me as soon as you see this🤍

You were anxiously biting your nails when someone opened the door a dozen minutes later, which startled you. You quickly sat up, hoping that it was Ollie. But to your disappointment, it was only Charles.

“Hey, are you alright?” He asked when he noticed your smile fading. “We got a podium, you have to come celebrate with us tonight!”

“I’ll pass… but congrats on P3, I’m truly happy for you and I think your performance will help us for the future!” Despite your sour mood, you still wanted to show your support to Charles.

“I hope so too. But why are you still here? You usually leave my room earlier so that’s why I didn’t bother knocking.”

“I’m waiting for Ollie,” you told him. “He was supposed to get me like a half hour ago but he hasn’t come yet, and I don’t have any news from him.”

“Oh, sorry. Last I saw him, he was leaving the media pen to go back to his garage. You want me to text him too? Or call him?” Charles really wished he could do something to help you, not liking to see you down.

“It’s okay… I’ll just–”

“I’m here!” Someone shouted as their hand appeared before their face, fingers gripping the doorway. “I’m here, oh God. I can’t breathe, wait.”

Ollie looked like he had run a marathon before arriving, as he was having a hard time catching his breath. His gaze was solely focused on you, and he straightened up when he noticed the worry on your face.

“Sorry I took so long,” he apologised. “I was finishing my interviews, and then I was walking back to Haas. But I saw Fred. And I was going to ignore him at first because I was nervous as hell when I remembered that he knew about us, but then I thought of you. I didn’t want him to be mad at you because of me, and–”

“Ollie, slow down! Breathe, of my God. You look like you’re about to faint any minute now,” you said as you stood up and poured him a glass of water. He quickly drank it, and you were glad to see some colour come back to his face.

“Thanks. Anyways, I was saying…” He thought for a second, remembering where he had stopped. “Yeah, I talked to your dad; told him I love you; that I wouldn’t hurt you; that you were everything to me. And he was grumpy about it, but I think he accepted our relationship!”

“What?” You were flabbergasted at Ollie’s words. “You convinced my dad that you weren’t gonna break my heart?”

“Yep”, Ollie excitedly replied. His smile was contagious, making a matching one appear on your face. “I don’t think he actively enjoys me dating you, but I got his blessing.”

“His blessing?!” Charles exclaimed. He had been silent from the beginning, quietly following the exchange, but he felt like he had to join the conversation now. “I’m not even gonna comment on why he suddenly knows about you two, but did you ask Fred for her hand or what?”

“Well, hmm… no?”

“You sound unsure”, Charles pointed out as he raised an eyebrow at Ollie.

“Ollie, did you say anything else to my dad?”

“If you count me telling him that I was imagining my future with you, and that it would mean a lot to me if he could entrust you to me for the rest of our lives… then yes, that’s the other things I said to him.”

You exchanged a look with Charles, the both of you unable to believe Ollie’s words.

“I don’t know if you realise, but…” Charles thought of how to word it, as Ollie waited for him to keep going. “You literally asked Fred for his daughter’s hand in marriage.”

“I did what?” Ollie’s eyes darted towards you, hoping you could deny it. But when he saw you nod, he realised what he had done. “Oh God…”

“You literally said to my dad that you wanted to spend your entire life with me”, you explained the situation to Ollie.

“Go pick out a white dress then,” Charles added with a laugh.

You chuckled at Charles’s words, and Ollie noticed something.

“You’re not mad or weirded out about it?” He asked you, worry evident in his voice.

“No?” You replied, a smile on your face. “Ollie, I love you and I can see myself spending the rest of my life with you. I’d actually enjoy that very much.”

“Oh…” Ollie couldn’t help the blush that kept intensifying on his cheeks as he ran his fingers through his hair, symbolising how nervous he was. “Well, that’s good then.”

“That’s very good, yeah.”

You and Ollie exchanged loving smiles for a few seconds, neither of you saying anything else until Charles spoke up:

“Okay, kiss now! Y’all are happy and in love – we get it,” he told the both of you.

“Jeez, calm down. You get one podium and suddenly you’re giving us orders,” you complained. Still, you closed the gap between you and Ollie before gently kissing him. You kept it short due to Charles’s presence, and stepped back with a smile still harbouring your face.

“Be grateful I never said anything to Fred, though! I know I said I would keep it a secret last year, but I was actually joking back then.”

“I know you were. But yeah, thanks for not ratting us out to your boss.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied with satisfaction and smugness in his voice. “Now, get out there and celebrate your little love story elsewhere! I need to change before going out with the team.”

Charles was almost pushing you out of his room, clearly wanting some alone time for a bit. You chuckled at him, before taking Ollie’s hand and dragging him away to the exit.

Once outside, you couldn’t help laughing again. Ollie looked at you, waiting for you to convey your thoughts.

“Still can’t believe you asked my dad to marry me”, you teased.

“Stop, I’m gonna be traumatised next time I see him.” Ollie blushed again, and you could only think that he was adorable. “It’s gonna haunt me for the rest of my life.”

“I’ll be there with you, though.” You stopped laughing, as your tone became slightly more serious. “I meant what I said, Ollie. I’ll actually spend my life with you if you’ll have me.”

“Of course I will”, he replied. “I’ll have you forever, for as long as we can get.”

It was now your turn to blush, not believing how lucky you were to have a boyfriend like Ollie.

Because you were both young when you first saw Oliver Bearman.

And you would be both old, when you would last see him.

..........

Y'all can't imagine how much i love this one🥹

As well as being my 1st time writing for ollie, it was my 1st time doing like a "song fic" (does that count as one?) - i hope the swifties out there got all the lyrics i included haha

I'm so glad f1 has challenged me in my writings and helped me try out new/diff things compared to what i was used to write like that feels super rewarding when i end up being proud of what i produced so I'm just super happy🎀

I really hope y'all enjoyed reading this one as much as i did writing it - don't hesitate to like, reblog, or comment to tell me your thoughts!!

See you soon, take care of yourselves, I love y'all xx

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #ollie bearman #ollie bearman x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 x you #ollie bearman x you #ob87 #ob87 x reader #ob87 x you

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adascore · 1 year ago

Text

The Winner Takes It All

pairings: alexia putellas x england!reader / engwnt x captain!reader / aitana bonmati x england!reader / jenni hermoso x alexia putellas

warnings: swearing. angst. jealousy. world cup loss for england. crying. strong language.

author’s note: right when everything seems to finally fall into place, the world is witness to the fall of an all-time great.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | masterlist

August, 2023 - Sydney, Australia

''And Y/N Y/L puts England into the World Cup final for the first time in their history! Captain Fantastic!''

Even 4 days later, the echoes of their semifinal win against the Australian team continued to send shivers down her spine. The heartbreak of the previous World Cup defeats was still present within her, but the captain felt empowered and ready to face anyone that would be sent her way.

The looks on the girls' faces as she had put another ball into the back of the net were ingrained in her mind, the sheer happiness with which they ran to her is something she will not forget any time soon.

They would play the final against Spain, a final they must absolutely win- not only for the title, but for the dignity and integrity of the game.

Y/N had been supportive of the 15 Spanish players that had taken a stance against the treatment the team had received from their coach and federation. She didn't know any of them on a personal level, but the England player has always been one of the biggest advocates of the women's game, so she wanted everyone to know on which side she stood.

Some of the girls had reached out, thanking her for lifting them up and shedding more light on the situation. However, none of those girls would be playing against her in the final as they did not receive a call-up.

She found it difficult to decipher whether most of the Spanish players liked her or not. A lot of them were from the Barcelona team and well… she did not have the best history with them when she wore the Lyon shirt.

There wasn't any hostility, but the striker had stopped them from winning several more trophies, so she figured they would gladly maximize any chance to take one away from her as well.

Unlike last year's Champions League final, this one wasn't being dubbed as ''Putellas vs. Y/L'', instead Alexia's name had been replaced with Aitana's.

''What's it going to take to win against a very in-form Spain tomorrow?'' One of the reporters asked the England captain.

''Goals.'' Y/N answered, matter-of-fact, having the media room chuckling.

She had been relieved to not have to share the press conference with the Spanish team, having to act cordially with Vilda was not on her agenda.

It was the morning of the final when she first encountered the Spaniards, both squads being allowed to do their pitch inspections. Their opponents were already spread out on the pitch when the English side entered the stadium, decked in black suits while the Lionesses wore their light blue tracksuits.

Keira and Lucy clung to their Barcelona teammates, delighted to see them. Alessia, Ella and Mary walked over to Ona, while the remaining Brits stayed in their own smaller groups.

Y/N was the last player to make her way onto the grass, clearly not in any hurry whatsoever. She entered with Arjan, in an engaged conversation with the Dutchman about something that had happened during training.

As if there was an AirTag on the England captain, Alexia's eyes immediately found her from where she was standing with Lucy, Jenni and Laia. She immediately noted the confidence and aura that was radiating off of the younger woman, seemingly not bothered about the major final that would be happening that night.

Alexia observed how she gave the assistant coach a pat on the arm before inspecting the stadium on her own, walking on the sidelines without anyone by her side.

The Catalan's attention was solely on the Brit, long forgotten that she was in the middle of a conversation with her teammates.

Should I? No, I shouldn't bother her, she seems content on her own. I kinda want to talk to her, though. Alexia's thoughts were clouded with the dilemma on whether to approach Y/N or not, finding it a great opportunity to see where they currently stood with one another.

She knew there was a chance it could lead to an awkward encounter again, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she at least needed to try. However, another part of her held back, afraid of rejection.

Taking a deep breath, she moved her feet towards the striker. ''Sorry, just one minute.'' Alexia excused herself from their small huddle, biting the bullet.

Lucy, before anyone else, noticed where she was headed. ''Ale, I wouldn't do that- oh, she can't hear me, anyway.'' The defender brushed her own warning off, realizing it had no use as the skipper was already too far.

''Why shouldn't she talk to her?'' Laia inquired, confused about Lucy's attempt to stop her friend.

''Y/N has this thing where she likes to be on her own while doing the pitch inspections, I don't know where it came from, but she doesn't like to be bothered.'' The Brit explained to them.

The trio, lacking any subtlety, stared as Alexia walked to the sidelines, the unaware England captain clearly her target. ''For an introvert she sure likes to put herself in uncomfortable situations.'' Jenni bluntly remarked, soliciting chuckles from Laia and Lucy.

''Nah, she'll be fine.'' The Spanish defender said, choosing to be optimistic about it.

On the other side of the pitch, Alexia was feeling anything but fine as she got closer to Y/N with each step she took. She'd faintly heard Lucy calling out for her, but she'd pressed on, determined to make this work.

''Hey,'' Alexia greeted Y/N, her voice coming out smaller than she would have wanted.

The striker turned to her, caught by surprise at her sudden appearance. ''Oh, hey.'' She replied, her tone cautious yet not unfriendly.

''How are you?'' The midfielder asked, internally cursing at herself for startling her.

Y/N nodded, a hint of a smile on her face. ''Good, how are you?''

''Me too, thanks,'' Alexia's voice was steadier now, feeling the tension slightly dissipate between them, ''I'm excited for tonight.''

The younger woman nodded in understanding, her expression softening. ''Same, will be tough.''

There was a moment of awkward silence, neither quite sure how to proceed further. Y/N expectantly looked at Alexia, wishing for the midfielder to either extend the conversation or go back to her original conversation on the other side of the field.

''Uh, that was a nice goal against Australia, by the way. Really good.'' Alexia quickly offered, breaking the silence.

Y/n chuckled at the mention of her goal, her eyes twinkling. ''Thank you,'' she said, ''it's great to see you back with Spain.'' The sincerity was evident in her voice, almost catching the Spanish skipper off guard.

''Thank you, it's nice to be here with the team.''

''How's your knee doing?'' Y/N briefly glanced down to her competitor's leg, curious about the status.

Alexia hesitantly nodded. ''A lot better. Not a total 100%, but the recovery is going well.''

''That's great, I'm happy for you.''

The Spaniard smiled, a warm feeling embracing her. ''Thank you.''

A silence fell over them again, though it might have been the least awkward one so far out of all the interactions they've had.

''Uh, I have to get back to my, uh, thing,'' Y/N held up her earphones that were connected to her phone, ''but, uh, good luck tonight.''

''Yeah, sorry, uh, you too.'' Alexia stumbled, nervously taking a step back and giving the Brit an uneasy smile.

Y/N gave her a quick nod before turning away, slipping her earphones back in and walking on the sidelines of the pitch. She was the only person on the pitch who was actually taking the inspection in ''pitch inspection'' seriously as she observed the grass while strolling around the stadium.

Alexia stood there for a moment, watching her go, a mixture of emotions swirling inside her. She felt a strange sense of satisfaction mixed with a twinge of something she couldn't quite place. Shaking her head, she turned and headed back to her teammates.

Lucy raised an eyebrow as her club captain rejoined the group. ''You seemed to get more out of her than I usually do.''

Alexia shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. ''Just catching up.''

''Catching up… nice.'' Jenni recited her words, a skeptical look in her eyes.

''Yes, very nice,'' the Barcelona captain dropped her smile, ''anyway- where were we?''

So the winner takes it all, the loser has to fall

It's simple and it's plain, why should I complain?

The stadium was alive with cheers and celebrations, but for Y/N, the echoes of disappointment drowned out the jubilant sounds. She stood on the pitch, staring blankly at the sea of happy faces, her mind replaying the moments that led to England's defeat against the Spanish.

In the midst of the celebrations for the opposing team, Y/N's gaze lingered on the blue jerseys scattered around the pitch, a lot of them on the ground now.

Her feet were nailed to the ground, unable to move herself towards her team and help them up like the leader she is.

However, she could do nothing but stare at their agony.

She failed.

She had fucking failed.

There had been many opportunities for her to equalize the score, yet she hadn't been clinical enough. Shots that usually would find the back of the net, went wide or were blocked by a defender or by Coll.

A few minutes passed as she finally managed to force herself towards the other players, almost walking in shame to her teammates.

Ella and Alessia were the first two she encountered, both girls with tears in their eyes, a drastic contrast to their usual demeanor.

''Come here, my girls.'' Y/N motioned for them to walk into her arms, which they immediately did, seeking comfort in their captain.

Their heads rested on either sides of her shoulders, both sniffling in her neck as she felt their tears staining her kit. She caressed their backs, while observing how their other teammates were being consoled.

Y/N was the one to pull away first, silently signaling she would go up to the remaining members of their squad.

She passed Lucy, who was embraced by Mariona. The striker briefly ruffled the defender's head, while muttering a congratulations to the Barcelona player.

A bit further down the pitch, she saw Mary being helped up by a bunch of teammates, the Manchester United goalkeeper in complete despair.

But before she could take another step, a hand wrapped around her wrist, halting her in her tracks.

''Hey, Y/N.''

Sarina appeared in front of her, her expression somber yet supportive.

She gave the coach a sad smile as the Dutchwoman wrapped her arms around her player. ''You did very well.''

''I'm sorry.'' Y/N whispered back, the disappointment audible.

''Don't apologize, I'm very proud of you,'' the older woman reassured, giving her a gentle squeeze.

The coach pulled her back, her hands resting on her shoulders. ''You can let go, you know? The match is done, don't keep everything inside.'' Sarina softly mumbled, lightly concerned over the captain's stoic face and the visible tremor in her hands.

Y/N simply nodded, not saying anything further. Despite the encouragement, she remained outwardly composed. Though, Sarina could see the raw emotion simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over at any moment.

With a final squeeze of her shoulder, Sarina offered one last glimmer of solace before reluctantly stepping back, leaving the captain to herself.

Y/N's original destination had been Mary, though by the time her conversation with her coach had finished, the goalkeeper was nowhere in sight.

''Good match, you still give me trouble after all these years.'' Irene interjected her thoughts, her stuck-out hand appearing before her.

The Brit chuckled at her words, shaking her hand. ''Thanks, and congrats. You've had a good tournament.''

''Thank you, Y/L. You too.''

They shared a quick hug before going their own ways again, the respect from their Lyon-PSG days never having withered away.

As she traversed the pitch, she encountered various teammates, each bearing the weight of defeat in their own way. With a comforting touch on the shoulder, a shared look of understanding or a warm embrace, she conveyed her support without needing to utter a single word.

Among the Spanish players, there were nods of acknowledgment and brief exchanges of congratulations.

While she wasn't particularly close with any of them compared to her teammates, her facial expression and overall posture didn't invite further interaction. She managed to convey her respect and acknowledgment of their achievement without seeking deeper engagement.

She also made her way to the three officials in the center of the pitch, extending her hand towards them.

Meanwhile, the other captain on the pitch observed her from afar, her eyes tracing the familiar figure moving through the post-match formalities.

Alexia made note of the way Y/N's shoulders were tense, and how her movements were almost robotic.

As she further analyzed her, a strange and unfamiliar feeling settled inside her. It was a sensation she couldn't quite put into words, a mixture of empathy, sadness, and a strange sense of connection.

She had never experienced such intense empathy for an opponent, especially not in the aftermath of a major final victory. Typically, her focus would be on celebrating with her teammates and reveling in the joy of winning. But now, she found herself feeling more sorrow for Y/N's defeat than happiness for her own success.

Memories of the previous year's Champions League final flooded Alexia's mind, where she had been in her position, grappling with the crushing weight of failure as the leader of her team. She saw a reflection of herself in the English striker, recognizing the familiar struggle of trying to mask one's emotions in the aftermath of defeat.

Recalling the moment when Y/N had offered her comfort and admiration after that match, Alexia felt a sudden urge to reciprocate. The Brit's words had given her a lot of strength when she lost, and now, she wanted to do the same. With the image of Y/N's arm wrapped around her from the previous year firmly etched in her mind, Alexia took a deep breath and approached the England captain. Each step felt weighted with uncertainty, yet she was driven by an inexplicable urge to offer her support.

With the image of Y/N's arm wrapped around her from the previous year firmly etched in her mind, Alexia took a deep breath and approached the England captain. Each step felt weighted with uncertainty, yet she was driven by an inexplicable urge to offer her support.

Alexia's expression softened with sympathy and understanding as she made it to the center of the field. ''Y/N,'' she said gently, her arm instinctively reaching out to wrap around the Brit's shoulders, ''I know it's not the result you wanted, but you should be incredibly proud of yourself. You were one of the best this World Cup.''

Y/N managed a tight-lipped smile, though her eyes betrayed the lingering disappointment. ''Thanks,'' she replied, her tone tinged with bitterness, ''it's good to see you back on the field. Even if it's only for 10 minutes.''

The Spaniard chose to ignore the passive-aggressive comment, recognizing it as a product of frustration rather than genuine malice. ''Thank you,'' she replied calmly, ''it was a great battle today.''

The England captain gave a curt nod, subtly attempting to shrug off Alexia's comforting embrace. But the Catalan held tight, refusing to let her go.

''Seriously, Y/N, you were amazing these few weeks,'' Alexia persisted, her voice gentle yet firm, ''you led your team to this moment.'' She attempted again to console her rival, or former rival… friend? It wasn't clear. It had never been clear.

''I appreciate it,'' Y/N responded, her tone softening slightly, ''you guys worked hard, considering the circumstances. Congrats, enjoy it.''

With a gentle yet deliberate movement, Y/N extricated herself from the embrace, offering a half-hearted smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She was acutely aware of the cameras capturing every moment of their interaction, and the potential backlash she might face for her indifference. But in that moment, consumed by the sting of defeat, she couldn't bring herself to care one bit.

Alexia watched her for a few seconds, feeling something that felt equivalent to a slap in the face. She perfectly understood Y/N's pain, and could imagine what the England captain was thinking in her head. But she'd only meant well by her words, and affection.

She didn't stare too long at her departing figure, knowing how miserable it might look to other people. The midfielder resumed her small tour of shaking hands with all the opponents, while also congratulating her own teammates.

It irritated her how effortlessly the striker's indifference had dampened her spirits. Alexia couldn't help but feel a twinge of bitterness, resentful of the power Y/N seemed to hold over the Spanish captain's emotions without even remotely trying.

Why is she allowing it to sour her mood?

''Y/N.'' She heard her name being called somewhere in the dressing room, turning around without knowing who to even look for.

Keira appeared in front of her, already showered and changed into something clean. ''Hey, don't feel obligated to do this, but I kinda need a favor from you…'' The Barcelona midfielder looked a bit flushed speaking to the captain.

Y/N slowly nodded, not sure where this was heading.

''Uh, Aitana- you know Aitana, right?'' She quickly asked, suddenly feeling insecure about the player's knowledge of her teammate.

The captain snorted, finding the question a bit ridiculous considering they just played a final against her. ''Yeah, I know her.''

Keira nodded, cringing at herself for even asking. ''Right, so you're kind of like, one of her idols, and she would really love for you two to swap kits.''

Y/N softly smiled at the sweet gesture, while also feeling immensely honored by the fact that Aitana considers her somewhat of a role model. ''Uh, yeah, that's fine. Do you know where she is?''

''She's standing outside the dressing room right now.'' Keira sheepishly grinned.

''Of course she is,'' the older player sighed with affection, ''uh, I'm gonna shower first, and then I'll go outside, okay? I want to wash this entire day away.'' She grimaced.

''Alright, I'll tell her,'' Keira said before briefly stopping the striker from walking to the shower area, ''thank you.'' She sincerely said, her eyes filled with gratitude.

''Ah, don't mention it.'' Y/N brushed it off, squeezing the midfielder's arm.

It took her about 20 minutes to actually make it outside the changing room. Had she wasted time on purpose to keep the person who had just robbed her of a World Cup title waiting for her? No one could tell.

''Hey, congrats again.'' Y/N greeted the Spaniard, who looked incredibly nervous.

Aitana smiled brightly, carefully holding her own shirt in her hands. ''Thank you. Congrats on your tournament, you played great the entire time.''

''Thanks. Here you go.'' The England captain handed her shirt over, the Barcelona player doing the same.

''Gracias,'' Aitana thanked her, looking like a kid at Christmas, ''you've been my idol for a long time, and it's amazing to play these kinds of matches against you. You're an amazing player.'' She continued her complimenting, not able to stop herself from praising her.

Y/N awkwardly accepted her words, she'd never been the best at accepting such loving compliments, especially when they came from fellow players. ''That means a lot, thank you. But you're like the best player in the world right now, I'm much more honored, believe me,'' Y/N chuckled, making Aitana blush, ''also congrats on the Champions League, you were seriously one of the best players the entire tournament, and also in the Spanish League. I've been a big fan of you since Budapest.''

Aitana looked overwhelmed to say the least. The Champions League final in Budapest had taken place in 2019, meaning the Lyon striker had been a fan of hers for over 4 years.

''No, thank you so much, but you're the best, always.'' The Spaniard brushed it off, genuinely not believing there was a better player than Y/N in women's football.

The Brit grinned at the reply. ''Well, I can't wait to see you lift the Ballon d'Or this year.'' She winked.

''I- I don't know about that.'' Aitana stammered, her cheeks warm with embarrassment.

Y/N laughed softly, a warmth in her face that made the midfielder flustered. ''Trust me, you should pick out an outfit already,'' she teased, ''but, seriously, keep doing what you're doing right now, players like you are really rare, and all of us are so blessed to watch you play right now.'' She encouraged, her tone genuine.

''Thank you, that is very kind.'' Aitana responded, her voice barely above a whisper. She was still in disbelief that this conversation was actually taking place.

''You're very welcome.''

''Did you get it?'' Ona asked Aitana as soon as the midfielder entered the dressing room.

The Catalan held up the shirt to her friend, proudly showing off the emblazoned ''Y/L'' on the back of it. ''I had to wait 20 minutes.'' She sighed, sitting down in her cubby.

''She probably made you wait on purpose.'' Mariona remarked, taking a sip of her water.

''No, she was very kind.'' Aitana brushed the comment off with a shake of her head. The Barcelona star neatly folded the jersey on her lap, delicately brushing away the remaining stains of grass and dirt.

''Ale, you're not listening to me.'' Jenni nudged the captain, an offended look on her face as her friend didn't seem to be paying much attention to her rambling.

''Huh, what?'' Alexia stuttered, caught off guard, looking to her side.

A playful eye roll accompanied a light slap on the arm. ''Am I boring you?''

''No, no, please continue,'' the captain insisted, realizing she had drifted off again. She forced herself to listen attentively, though her mind kept drifting back to the jersey exchange between Aitana and Y/N.

''Okay, what is it? You're clearly not focused on me right now.'' The midfielder sighed, observing her friend's distracted gaze.

Shaking her head, Alexia tried to dismiss her thoughts. ''No, continue, I'm sorry- nothing on my mind.''

Jenni's eyes followed the captain's gaze to the blue England jersey on Aitana's lap. She looked back at her teammate, noticing her fixated expression. ''You're not telling me that even a damn shirt with her name on it bothers you.''

''What do you mean?'' Alexia asked, embarrassed as she was called out.

Jenni's eyes shot up in judgment. ''I get that the comparisons weren't nice while they were happening, but letting her bother you this much is crazy, Ale.''

''She doesn't bother me.'' Alexia retorted immediately.

A snicker followed. ''Yeah, and I'm Jesus.'' She responded, sarcastically.

''Just forget about it.'' Alexia started, but Jenni interjected.

''Hey, I'm sorry, okay? You don't want to talk about it?'' The Spaniard apologized, realizing her friend wasn't enjoying the teasing.

''No, I do. Just… not here, I don't need the whole room to know about it.'' Alexia whispered, eyes darting around.

Jenni nodded, sending her friend's discomfort with the others. ''Alright, should we go to the bathroom?'' She suggested, trying to make it seem as subtle as possible.

The captain nodded, a grateful look in her eyes. ''Yeah,'' she smiled, ''thanks.'' She softly muttered as they made their way outside.

As they stepped into the quiet solitude of the bathroom, Alexia let out a sigh of relief, feeling grateful for Jenni's understanding. Leaning against the sink, she ran a hand through her hair, trying to collect her thoughts.

Jenni stood beside her, offering a reassuring smile. ''You okay?''

The Ballon d'Or winner hesitated for a moment before responding. ''Yeah, just… and this is gonna sound stupid, but the shirt does make me upset.''

The Tigres player slowly nodded, trying to understand her point. ''Okay… and do you know why?''

She remained silent for a few moments, almost too full of shame over the answer- the true answer to that question. ''I think- you know, we've never exchanged shirts… and she does it with so many other people on our team.''

Jenni reached out, gently squeezing her friend's shoulder. ''It's not just the shirt, is it?''

She knew her friend too well to think this was all about a stupid football jersey- there was more, and Jenni wanted to know what that entailed.

Alexia remained quiet, glancing down at the floor.

''Ale, I'm not dumb. I see what she does to you.''

''She doesn't do anything-''

''Shut up,'' Jenni shook her head, cutting her off, ''I want to listen to you, and help you, but you have to start being honest to yourself, Putellas.''

Alexia's facade crumbled under Jenni's persistent gaze, her defenses weakening with each passing moment. She let out a resigned sigh, knowing she couldn't hide from the truth any longer.

"She… she is so freaking annoying. You have no idea, Jenni. She makes my blood boil. Every single time we're on the pitch together, it's like she knows exactly how to get under my skin. It's the way she plays, the way she talks, the way she looks at me like she's already won. And I know it's all part of the game, but fuck, it's so fucking annoying,"

Jenni leaned against the wall, crossing her arms, and nodded for her to continue.

''But then, the match is over, and all I want is for her to come up to me and ask me for a freaking shirt swap. It's so ridiculous, I know. But it's always someone else that she goes to. First it was Patri, in Turin. Then, at the friendly last year, I thought she was going to ask me, but no, she asked me to give my jersey to a fucking teammate of hers. And now Aitana has one as well? It's so fucking stupid. She can exchange with Aitana, but not with me?''

Alexia's frustration was palpable as she continued to vent. "And the worst part is, I don't even know where we fucking stand with each other. Like, in Turin, she was so nice and she comforted me when the match was done, and she was, yeah, just so nice. But today, it was like she wanted nothing to do with me, and I get it, it's a big final to lose, but still! I can't stand it. I want to be mad at her, but she makes it impossible.''

Jenni watched her with a mixture of sympathy and amusement. "Ale, maybe she doesn't realize how much it bothers you."

Alexia threw her hands up, a bitter laugh escaping. ''She knows exactly what she's doing. She does this on purpose, it's like she gets some kind of twisted pleasure out of it.''

Her friend raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. ''Or maybe she doesn't know either. You're giving her too much power, Ale.''

The captain shook her head. ''It doesn't feel like that.''

''What does it feel like?'' Jenni asked.

''Like she's playing mind games with me.''

Jenni remained silent, having Alexia almost hanging her head in shame. ''It's fucking stupid.'' She cursed under her breath.

The older woman placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. ''First off, it's not stupid, your feelings are valid,'' Jenni reassured her, ''and secondly… I have never seen you like this, and it kind of worries me, Ale.''

Alexia let out a heavy sigh. ''Sorry, you don't need to worry. I just- I don't know what to think anymore. I feel like an idiot for caring this much about a shirt.''

''You're not an idiot,'' Jenni denied with a smile, ''you want her to acknowledge you. It's not a crime, she's a great player, it's normal.''

Her younger teammate nodded, though not convinced.

Jenni sighed, stepping closer to her friend. ''Why don't you take the first step? Ask her for a swap yourself.''

''Ask her myself?'' Alexia laughed mockingly.

''What's the worst that can happen? She says no? At least you'd have your answer.'' She pointed out.

''I don't think I can…'' Alexia muttered in response, looking down at the bathroom floor.

''Why not?'' Jenni pressed gently.

Alexia hesitated, her words coming out in a rush. ''Wha- what if she, you know, enjoys that I want her- her shirt,'' she quickly corrected herself, ''I honestly think she would enjoy rejecting me.''

''Ale,'' Jenni broke the silence in the room, ''do you… do you like her?''

Alexia's eyes shot to Jenni's before darting away again. ''What?'' She stammered, caught off guard by the question.

''I know how you act when you like someone,'' Jenni raised an eyebrow.

She adamantly shook her head in response. ''No. What the hell.''

Jenni held up her hands, a faint smile playing on her lips.. ''Hey, I wouldn't judge you. She's good-looking, she plays amazing football, has a nice accent.''

''No, I don't like her.'' She insisted, though her conviction sounded shaky, even to her own ears.

The older midfielder snickered at the weak reply, her amusement evident.

''Jenni, I don't like her. That's insane.'' Alexia continued protesting.

''Ale, you're kinda obsessed with her.'' Her friend pointed out.

'' I am not obsessed wi-''

''How many hours of footage have you dedicated to studying her before every match you play against her?'' Jenni interrupted her, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

Alexia rolled her eyes, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck, but she stayed silent.

''See. Absolutely obsessed. You probably know her stats better than she does.'' Her fellow midfielder continued, her teasing tone relentless.

''I am not crazy. I'm just strategically analyzing the opponent.'' Alexia defended herself, though her words faltered slightly.

Jenni raised an eyebrow. ''You know there are 10 other players on the pitch, right?''

Alexia huffed in exasperation. ''Oh, come on. There is nothing to like about her.'' She reacted defensively.

Jenni smirked at her words. ''Not her good looks, her intelligence, her advocacy, her football skills, her sexy accent, her knowing all those different languages, her-''

''Shut up.'' Alexia interjected Jenni's teasing, her cheeks completely burned up.

Jenni chuckled, knowing she had hit a nerve. ''Okay, okay, I'll stop. You're obviously still in the denial stage.''

Alexia huffed loudly. ''You're delusional.''

''Yeah,'' the older woman sarcastically said, ''after we've had this whole conversation, I am the delusional one, Ale.'' Jenni rolled her eyes.

The Barcelona captain crossed her arms, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks again. "You're making this much bigger than it actually is.''

"Because it is a big deal," Jenni immediately retorted, ''you're clearly affected by this, and this goes way beyond whatever rivalry you two have going on.''

Alexia sighed, realizing her mask was slipping and her friend had her completely figured out.

Jenni silently stared at her friend for a few moments, wondering how long these thoughts had been brewing inside her mind. She pulled the younger woman into an embrace, gently caressing her back.

''It's okay to have these feelings, Ale. It really is. But don't bottle them up the way you have been doing, don't ignore them. That's not healthy.''

Alexia let her head rest on Jenni's shoulder, the truth of her words sinking in. ''I just hate feeling like this,'' she admitted, ''I don't even know what I want from her.''

Jenni nodded sympathetically, continuing her caressing. ''I understand that,'' she kissed the side of her head, ''I don't know when you'll see her again, but maybe, like, ask her for a shirt swap yourself? I know you think it's stupid, but you'll get a better understanding of where you stand with her.''

Alexia shook her head. "I don't know if I can do that."

''You can,'' her teammate assured her, ''I really believe you've got it all wrong. I think she'd happily exchange kits with you.''

''Maybe… yeah, maybe you're right.'' She mumbled in response.

Jenni pulled her back, not looking into her eyes. ''Just try, please. And if she doesn't want to? Guess what? There are thousands of other people who would gladly receive your shirt.''

Her friend's encouragement caused a smile to finally appear on Alexia's face, something Jenni was happy to see. ''Thanks, I really appreciate it.''

"Anytime," Jenni replied, giving her a supportive pat on the back, ''now let's get out of here, and fucking celebrate, alright?''

Alexia nodded, feeling much lighter than when they'd first walked into the bathroom. ''Yeah, let's go.''

''Let's go, chica!''

suggestions/ideas/opinions for or about the series are always welcome in my inbox!

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso fic #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas fic #engwnt x reader #aitana bonmati x reader

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tommydarlings · 7 months ago

Text

pretty pictures | s.v

pairing: dark!rbr!sebastian vettel x reader

warnings: dark, mentions of stalking, possessive behaviour, manipulation

w/c: 2.4k

summary: sebastian isn’t mentally sick, he just loves you and wants to protect you from the rest of this evil world and by keeping you locked up in his house and threatening the other drivers, he’s doing exactly that.

check this out: my masterlist <3 // my ko-fi to support me! <3 // my PayPal to support me! <3 // my Patreon to become a member! (get access to +65 works) // Save a Life carrd made by me! <3

Sebastian Vettel wasn’t dumb. Crazy? Jealous and very possessive over you? Yes… of course.

But he wasn��t stupid, not one bit.

He noticed how Lewis was flirting with you, he noticed how the Brit looked a little too deeply into your gorgeous eyes, he noticed how he caught himself glancing there and then at your pretty cleavage.

And it was driving him more than crazy.

The young redbull driver was currently walking towards the elevator of the hotel that all the drivers stay in, a rather big and expansive looking camera in his hand.

“Hey, seb! How you’re doing, man?“ Lewis waved briefly at him before he walked up to the German and shamelessly stepped into the elevator with him, both of the drivers quickly pressing the buttons to reach their floors.

Sebastian nodded with a tight lipped smile, suddenly holding the camera in his hand in a tighter grip than before, “Pretty good Lewis, thanks! And you?“

Lewis nodded as well, “pretty good as well — since when are you interested in photography, mate?“ he asked curiously as he looked down at the camera in Sebastian's hand.

The German driver raised his brows and also glanced down at the expansive camera in his hand before he chuckled deeply, “I was always interested in it but I just recently found the time to finally buy myself a nice camera, you know?“

Lewis smiled kindly at the redbull driver, “oh cool! Maybe you can be my photographer in he future!“ he joked.

Sebastian laughed before Lewis spoke up again,

“But please don’t be one of those creeps that secretly takes pictures of me! I’m not photogenic!“ Lewis chuckled before the elevator doors finally opened, both of them slowly stepping out.

Sebastian looked at the Mercedes driver, “Of course not, Lewis! That even assume something like that hurts my heart!“ he put his palms over his heart in a dramatic gesture, forcing a smile out of the Mercedes driver.

“I know, I know — sorry mate! Good luck on the upcoming race!“ he said as the two parted ways, Lewis going down the left side of the hall while Sebastian walked down the right one, both walking towards their rooms.

The young German unlocked the door and walked straight to the bedroom where you sat on the bed, reading a book that Sebastian bought you.

“Hey! You’re back!“ you smiled happily and put the book aside and stood up, immediately hugging Sebastian.

Your boyfriend hugged you back before he put the camera carefully onto the table next to his laptop, his fingers running along your lower back as he pressed a soft kiss to the nape of your neck.

You looked up at him, “were where you, baby?“

Sebastian cleared his throat, “the PR team decided to give me this huge and expensive camera and told me to take some pretty pictures of the track and stuff like that… you know, for the fans,“ he stated before he kissed your lips.

You passionately kissed him back for a couple of seconds before he separated himself from you,

“Sorry engel,“ angel, “But I still got some work to do, alright? But I promise I cuddle you to sleep tonight, yeah?“ he pecked your soft cheek one last time before he grabbed the camera and walked to a very small but well equipped office room in the hotel, setting the camera down next to his laptop.

He sighed as he sat down, immediately connecting his camera to his laptop with a black wire, his fingers gliding quickly over the trackpad, his pretty blue eyes searching for a specific folder.

'Sebastian's pictures' — was his special folder called , proudly named by him two nights ago.

He double clicked on it and opened it, taking a brief look at the pictures that he put in there already a few weeks ago before he opened the tab that showed the pictures that he took a few hours ago.

The redbull driver couldn’t hide a cheeky grin as he laid his eyes upon the photos, harshly biting his bottom lip, almost drawing blood as his pupils dilated.

But not because of love or lust — no, because of anger and hatred.

But not towards you, never towards you.

The screen showed pictures of you talking mindlessly with his dear friend Lewis Hamilton, looking prettier than ever as you looked up at the Mercedes driver with your infamous and charming smile that made Sebastian fall in love with you in the first place.

Some of the pictures he took showed you simply talking and smiling at Lewis, some others showed you laughing at an apparently funny joke that Lewis told you and another one showed you sweetly hugging the Brit, making the german see red.

He quickly stood up and let his stool crash onto the floor with a rather loud thud, his dark eyes not leaving the screen of the laptop Ashe tried his best to calm himself down by taking deep breaths.

“Seb, baby?“ he heard your angelic voice called out as you approached the door to the small office room.

Sebastian sighed heavily before he swiftly closed the laptop and turned towards the door,

“Yes, mein liebes?” my love. He said as soon as you opened the door and gazed up at him with your doe eyes.

You gulped as you noticed the stool on the floor, “Everything okay, baby? I heard a loud thud,“ you mumbled as you continued staring at the stool next to him.

Sebastian smiled innocently and nodded while he slowly picked the stool back up, “Oh yes, everything’s perfect, engel,“ angel.

You briefly furrowed your brows but only smiled and nodded, “okay!“ you said before you walked back to the bedroom.

Sebastian sighed once again before he printed the photos and gave them into his brown folder that’s filled with about a hundred other pictures — almost all of them including you.

———

Three times, that’s how often he knocked on hamilton's wooden door, the big brown folder still tightly in his other hand.

“Sebastian, hey! How are you?“

“Oh I’m perfect, Lew, I think that this is actually yours but it was put in front of my doorstep for some reason,“ he acted confused and handed the thin folder over to his friend.

Lewis furrowed his brows but couldn’t say anything anymore because Sebastian already walked away again, leaving Lewis with the brown folder filled with a bunch of surprising pictures for him to inspect.

As soon as Lewis was back inside his hotel room, he opened the folder and immediately caught a glimpse of the almost disturbing pictures that his friend had taken of the two of you a few days prior.

The Brit furrowed his brows and looked at one picture after another, every time he laid his eyes on another creepy picture, he gulped and stared at the wall, too many questions in his head.

With an angry sigh, Lewis stormed down the hall towards Sebastian’s hotel room, harshly knocking on the door.

To his surprise, sebastian swiftly opened the door, “Oh Lewis, hey!-”

“What’s this, huh? What the fuck is wrong with you? What’s your pro-”

Sebastian raised his hand, silently signaling him to stop talking, “okay lew, slow your horses, alright? What are you even talking about?“

Lewis scoffed with a laugh, “What am I talking about? I’m talking about this!“ he held the folder up into the air.

But Sebastian only grinned, “So you took a good look at the pictures I made for you?“

The Brit shook his head, staring at the younger driver, “you’re insane, seb — fucking crazy,“ he mumbled quietly.

Your boyfriend furrowed his brows, “I’m the fucking crazy one here? Who’s the man that talks to my girlfriends almost everyday? Who’s the man that touches her and hugs her a little too long for her boyfriends likening, huh?”

Lewis was speechless, he stared with widened eyes at the redbull driver.

“Exactly… you, not me or any other disgusting man,“ Sebastian spat quietly at him.

The Mercedes driver shook his head before your sweet voice disturbed their sickening tension, “seb, baby? Who’s at the-, oh, Lewis hey!“ you smiled kindly.

You just wanted to lean in for a hug but Sebastian quickly put his hand onto your waist and forced you to lean into his side, briefly pecking your temple.

Lewis shot you a tiny smile, “hey, y/n,“ he mumbled before he looked back into Sebastian’s eyes.

Sebastian cleared his throat, “I think we’ve discussed everything, haven’t we?” He lightly furrowed his brows and tilted his head to the side.

You noticed how strongly Lewis gulped but decided to just ignore it, “have we?“

Lewis immediately noticed how your boyfriend clenched his jaw but still kept his infamous grin on his lips, “yes — yes, we have,“ he nodded along his words.

The Brit chuckled deeply and shook his head before he looked at you and smiled, “Was nice to-”

“Yeah it was very nice to see you again, Lewis! Wish you a good night,“ Sebastian put his figure in front of you, blocking your body from Lewis's view, still wearing a cheeky grin.

——

“Honey? I’m gonna leave now!“ Sebastian yelled from the living room as you stood in the kitchen and put the last bit of the dishes away.

“But why am I not allowed to join you?“ you pouted while you slowly walked over to him.

Sebastian shook his head with a chuckle, “I already told you, mein engel,“ my angel, “You can’t tag along, it’s like a 'men's night out', you know?“ he raised his brows before he put his hands onto your waist.

But you furrowed your brows as well, “I thought the girlfriends of the other boys also join you guys… Michelle told me that I should-”

Sebastian shook his head again, “you know Michelle, baby…“ he sighed, “she often mixes things up and talks… well, some bullshit,“ his thumbs caressed your skin over your shirt.

You gulped — you thought that, that was quite mean of sebastian but what were you supposed to say? You can’t talk back to him.

Your boyfriend noticed how your thoughts wildly raced around in your head,

“I know you may be a bit… dumb is not the right word because you’re not dumb, sweetheart,“ the driver cleared his throat,

“but I know that you may be a bit foolish sometimes, you know?“ he briefly squeezed your waist before he let his palms slowly run along your arms.

You looked down at the floor, “I guess so,-”

Sebastian chuckled, his fingers wrapping themselves tightly around your flesh, “I know so, meine liebe,“ my love.

He leaned forward and gave you a long kiss on the forehead before he spoke up again,

“I’m always right, okay? Don’t you every try to question my actions — because in the end, they are all acts of love, you understand that?“

You sighed as you looked into his eyes, “Me not being being allowed to leave the house without your permission is an act of love?“ you asked with furrowed brows.

Sebastian noticed that you didn’t ask him that in a bratty way, but rather a genuinely curious way, so he took a deep breath and collected his thoughts before he answered your question,

“Exactly, mein engel,“ my angel, “By keeping you here, I can always be a hundred percent sure that you’re safe… and that’s all I want, to keep you safe.“

You furrowed your brows — if sebastian wouldn’t have been so fed up with all of your questions, he would have said that you looked sickeningly cute right now, “But why? The world outside of this door isn’t dangerous, is it?“

Sebastian almost laughed, his thumbs caressing your flesh again, “oh my pretty little girl, I think you’re always imagining this world with beautifully flowery fields and nothing else than sunshine, but the real world is a disgusting and ugly place, especially for women.“

There was a weird silence between you two before sebastian spoke up again, “Anyway, I need to get going now,“ he pecked your cheek with a grin, “and don’t even try to look for the spare key, I’ve got both keys with me, yeah?“

As your boyfriend whispered those words into your ear, you gulped but still nodded, after all he just tried to take good care of you, right?

“Yeah? Good girl,“ he kissed your forehead before he swiftly grabbed his coat and put it on.

Sebastian quickly left and you only heard the tires of his expensive car screeching against the pavement as you continued staring at the door.

You started to think about the incident with Lewis and the mysterious brown folder in his hand.

About how ever since that little late night visit from Lewis, he barely even talks to you anymore, barely even spares you a glance and you simply don’t know why because you and Lewis were always pretty good friends.

About how sebastian more regularly checks your phone, especially the messages that you share with the other drivers which were obviously innocent.

And now about how he barely lets you out of the house, even taking the spare key — that was actually yours, with him.

You sat down on the couch, chewing nervously on your lip as all those thoughts raced through your head.

This is all completely normal, right? Sebastian would do never anything to hurt you, would he?

You sighed and stood up again, trying to distract yourself with your phone but only then you noticed that you forgot your phone in the bedroom so you jogged to the bedroom to get it.

You quickly grabbed your phone that was laying on the nightstand but then you noticed an unfamiliar photo album peeking out from under the bed.

Of course you were a curious women, so you bend down and picked the album up, putting it onto the bed and opening it up to see what kind of pictures are inside.

As soon as you scanned the pictures, your throat has gone dry and your eyes filled themselves with tears.

Pictures of you talking to Lewis or Alonso, pictures of you while you were sleeping in the middle of the night and even some pictures of other drivers simply living their private life.

You went through the entire album, silently crying as you sat down and put the album beside your hip.

You couldn’t believe that sebastian would do something like that so you quickly put the album back under the bed and skipped back into the living room again, thinking about it all once again.

Yes, sebastian was possessive and definitely the jealous type of guy, but he was still caring and loving and very protective.

Sebastian was a good guy, and you knew it… or did you?

#fanfic #fanfiction #rbr seb x reader #rbr!seb x reader smut #rbr #rbr f1 #rbr!seb #rb racing #sebastian #sebastian vettel #red bull sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel smut #seb #sebastian vettel x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 fanfic

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heartysworld · 1 year ago

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A Champion's Proposal | Lando Norris x Reader

W.C.: 2.5k

Reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated! Feel free to send requests! 🧡

Masterlist

"Lando Norris rounds the final corner in Monaco, the roar of the crowd almost deafening. It's been a long and arduous journey for the young Brit, facing countless challenges and setbacks. But today, all the hard work, all the perseverance, has finally paid off.

The checkered flag waves as Norris crosses the finish line, and the realization hits – Lando Norris has won the Monaco Grand Prix! What a moment, what a triumph!

This isn't just a win; it's a testament to Lando's incredible spirit and determination. From his karting days to this very moment, every lap, every turn, every sacrifice has led to this unforgettable victory. He's conquered the streets of Monaco, a feat that many drivers dream of but few achieve!"

The atmosphere at the Yas Marina Circuit in Abu Dhabi was electric. The crowd erupted into cheers as Lando Norris crossed the finish line, securing his first Formula 1 World Championship. The roar of the engines mixed with the jubilant cries of fans and team members, creating a symphony of victory. Lando could hardly believe it. He had finally achieved his lifelong dream.

You stood in the McLaren garage, your heart pounding with excitement and pride. The energy around you was palpable, and you could barely contain your joy as you watched Lando bring his car to a stop. This was the moment he had worked so hard for, and you felt incredibly proud of him. You've spent over a decade supporting him in every step towards this exact moments. All the sad and happy tears the two of you had shed over the years were finally worth it.

As Lando climbed out of his car, he wasted no time and ran straight towards his team, and you watched as they congratulated him with high-fives and hugs. Soon, he was hoisted onto someone's shoulders, a huge grin on his face. You couldn't help but smile, your heart swelling with love for your boyfriend who had just achieved his life-long dream.

Lando was then ushered towards the podium for the trophy ceremony. The crowd roared as he took his place on the top step, the gold medal around his neck.

Your teary eyes met his as he searched the crowd of the McLaren team. You mouthed an "I love you" which he seemed to understand quite well as he mouthed back to you "I love you too". You watched with tears in your eyes as the British national anthem played, your heart bursting with pride.

After the anthem, the champagne celebration began. Lando, along with the second and third-place finishers, shook their bottles and sprayed the fizzy liquid everywhere. The sight of Lando, drenched and laughing, made you laugh too. It was a moment of pure joy and triumph.

Once the celebrations on the podium were over, Lando was whisked away for interviews. You watched from the sidelines as he spoke to the media, his face glowing with happiness. His words were full of gratitude for his team, his fans, and for you. He mentioned you several times, and each time, your heart skipped a beat.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Lando made his way back to the garage. He looked at you with that signature smile, the one that always made your heart flutter. Seconds later your body crashed against his as you two finally let it all out. Wrapped around each other's arms you kissed passionately, smiling against Lando's lips as your tears mixed in the kiss. His hands were gripping your waist as if there's no tomorrow, holding his favorite person in the whole entire universe and not wanting to ever let go.

After the high emotions worse off you separated your body from his, finally looking at his teary eyes that sparkled with a type of emotion you've never seen before from him.

"Congratulations, world champion. I am so proud of you." You said as you reached for his cheek, laying s gentle peck on the warm skin of his face.

His bright smile appeared second later as he kissed your forehead. Even though Lando was feeling emotional there was still something very important that he had to do. And that made him nervous, so nervous he barely found words to speak.

"Thank you baby. I love you so much, I couldn't have done it without your support. Thank you thank you thank you." Lando said, burying his head between your neck and collarbone, breathing in the nice floral smell of your perfume that made him go crazy every time his nose caught it in the air around.

You stood there, one of your hands buried in his messy curls that you adored so much while the other hugged Lando around his waist.

A few moments later you boyfriend spoke again, his voice quiet, coming from his hiding spot next to your neck.

"Y/N, there's something I want to show you," Lando said, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he looked at you. "Come, sit in the car."

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but you complied, taking his hand as he helped you slide into the driver's seat of his race car. This was something unusual as he'd never done this before or even suggested it. You even though it was forbidden as it might seem as tampering with the car in the steward's eyes.

The seat felt surprisingly comfortable, yet alien. You had always admired the car from a distance, never imagining yourself inside it. Around you, the mechanics and team members exchanged knowing smiles.

"What's going on, Lando?" you asked, your heart pounding. You looked around both confused and worried. Being the center of attention wasn't exactly your favorite thing.

Lando stepped back, when suddenly, Max appeared out of nowhere holding the large sign which they use to announce their driver's finish positions. You squinted,trying to read it as Max slowly lifted it above his head so that the halo wouldn't be in your line of sight. The sign read, in bold letters: "WILL YOU MARRY ME?"

Your breath caught in your throat, your shaking hands flying to your mouth as tears welled up in your eyes. You looked back at Lando, who was now kneeling beside the car, a small red,velvet box in his hand.

"Baby, you are my rock, my best friend, and my greatest love and supprter," Lando said, his voice trembling with emotion as his own eyes got teary. "winning the championship means the world to me, but none of it compares to how much I love you. Will you marry me?"

Tears were streaming down your face by the time he finished talking as you nodded vigorously. "Yes! Yes, Lando, of course, I will!"

Everyone around started clapping and congratulating the newly engaged couple.

The crowd, having caught on to what was happening thanks to the live broadcast, erupted into cheers once more. The commentators, caught up in the moment, couldn't contain their excitement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, not only has Lando Norris won his first World Championship today, but he's also just proposed to his girlfriend! And she said yes! What a moment!"

Lando stood up, pulling you out of the car and straight into his arms. He slipped the ring onto your finger, and you shared a kiss that was broadcasted to millions of viewers around the world. The world seemed to fade away as you lost yourself in the moment, feeling the warmth of his embrace and the softness of his lips.

Max, still holding the sign, laughed and joined in the celebrations. "Congratulations, you two! Looks like we have a double win today!"

The entire McLaren team gathered around, clapping and cheering for you and Lando. Surrounded by friends and teammates, you felt the warmth of their love and the joy of your shared moment. The ring on your finger sparkled under the bright lights of the garage, a perfect symbol of the new chapter you were about to begin together.

As the celebrations continued, Lando looked deeply into your eyes, waiting for your reaction to the stunt he just pulled, his heart full.

"I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you, Y/N."

"And I can't wait to spend mine with you, Lando," you replied, your smile brighter than ever. "It is very much your style, this whole thing. But that's one of the many reasons I love you." You said as you pecked his cheek once again.

In the midst of victory and love, Lando Norris's proposal had become a moment that neither you nor the world would ever forget. The memories of this day would be etched into your hearts forever, a beautiful beginning to your life together.

#formula 1 fic #formula 1 masterlist #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #fomrula 1 #lando norris fic #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris x female reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n

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theemporium · 1 year ago

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hey cece!!! long time, no talk 😅 i am obsessed with your cocktail themed thing you’ve got going on rn. that being said, could i get a mai tai with carlos? prompt #22 (although i think 22-24 on that list could work really well together and be cute) :) ty!!!

-🎆

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

22. falling asleep on the other's shoulder

“Have you seen Carlos?”

“No.”

“Have you seen Carlos anywhere?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Mon Dieu,” Charles grumbled as he wandered through the paddock, having been sent by some of the Ferrari media team to find Carlos for a video they needed to film for a sponsor. But the boy had been looking for over fifteen minutes and had been unable to find him.

He continued to ask around, even going as far as knocking on McLaren’s door, thinking that maybe he was just visiting Lando and lost track of time. But even the Brit hadn’t seen Carlos that day.

Charles was so close to giving up when he decided he would check the drivers room once more, certain he had checked earlier but thought no harm would come from checking one more time before returning to the team.

As it would turn out, he hadn’t checked Carlos’ driver room earlier and that was exactly where the Spaniard was—though, not alone.

“There you are—”

“Shhh,” Carlos hushed him, his voice firm despite being soft and quiet. “She’s asleep.”

Charles blinked, looking at the way your head was slumped on his shoulder, fast asleep and unaware of anything happening around you.

It was clear to everyone in the paddock how the two of you felt about each other.

Obvious to everyone except to you and Carlos, apparently.

No matter who said it or what was said, neither of you seemed to believe the other one viewed you as anything more than a friend. But it was hard when you had quite literally spent your whole lives together as friends, sticking by each other’s side through thick and thin. You had been one of his biggest supporters throughout his career, someone he viewed and cared for as highly as his own family.

He never wanted to lose that.

Just like you weren’t risking losing him over some unrequited feelings. He was your best friend, your rock, your everything. You couldn’t remember a world without Carlos in your life and you didn’t want to find out what it would be like.

Even if it meant helplessly pining after the man.

Even if it meant apparently ignoring the fact he was pining after you too.

“We are meant to be filming a video with the media team,” Charles told him, though he kept his voice just as hushed and soft. “We need to go.”

Carlos frowned a little as he glanced down at you, his face softening slightly. “I don’t want to wake her up.”

Charles raised his brows. “You need to get over this, you know.”

Carlos narrowed his eyes. “Not this again.”

“You two are so in love!”

“Shhh!”

“Sorry,” Charles murmured before sighing deeply. “You need to tell her how you feel. You two are just wasting time.”

“Just drop it, Charles,” he replied, sounding a little strained and upset as he spoke. “Tell media I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Charles’ face softened. “Carlos—”

“Go, Charles. I’ll be there soon.”

#cece's cocktail celebration #carlos sainz #formula one #f1 #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

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ennkis · 1 year ago

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VROOM (harry lewis x reader)

summary : in which y/n and harry get invited to go to the silverstone formula one grand prix (2023)

face claim : no one exact

notes : im an absolute noob at writing fics so please excuse the quality lmao. im petrified of posting on here but ive been thinking about starting a blog for over a year. im open to feedback, opinions and any sort of questions/advice is welcome! i happen to waffle a lot so just skip those parts if uninterested. this is my first post so enjoy 😝 also pls request because i have the creativity of a koala so id appreciate some ideas :D

pairings : harry lewis x reader , lando norris x platonic!reader

"WHAT ARE YOU WEARING?! Are you actually serious?" You asked your boyfriend in genuine shock, followed by a laugh from the man dressed in head to toe in Ferrari merch. The red and yellow colors clashed hilariously with the sleek, orange McLaren paddock pass hanging around his neck.

"What? I thought I'd support the winning team." He shrugged, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. You and Harry got invited by the Mclaren F1 team to watch the Silverstone Grand Prix from the paddock. As a Formula 1 fan youself, you were excited to see the cars upclose. To watch the mechanics to the pitstops, engineers do their things (idk what they do lmao) and to watch Max Verstappen overlap the whole grid like seven times. Even since you were a little kid you were amazed by those cars driving freakishly quickly. Now, several years later you get to experience it right infront of your eyes.

"Look, there's Lando!" Harry pointed out, spotting your friend talking to a group of mechanics. You approached Lando, who broke into a wide grin as he saw you. "Hey! There are my favorite YouTubers!"

You beamed. "Lando! It's so good to see you. How's it going?"

"It's been wild but amazing," Lando replied, glancing at Harry. "And I see you've managed to get Harry in the right gear this time."

Harry laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I had a little help with that."

Lando gave you two a playful nudge. "So, who are you rooting for today? Besides me, of course."

You laughed. "Well, McLaren, obviously. But I'm also excited to see how the Brits perform. It's going to be an interesting race."

"That's the spirit," Lando said, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "Alright, I better get back to my team, but I'll see you guys later? Enjoy the race!"

You and Harry found a spot in the back of Landos garage, it had a view on the screens but also the pit-stop. The whole race went by fast. The moment the lights went out Lando tried his hardest with a deserved P2 at his home race.

Liked by mclaren, f1 & 1,002,485 others.

yourusename mom, i got invited to the silverstone grand prix.. still lowkey in disbelief like wtf.. me?? anyways, tysm mclaren 🩷 enjoy my lovely film camera dump raaaah.

View all 2,547 comments.

user harry looking fine as always😍

user y/n and lando finest friends

wroetoshaw whos the first fella hes fit

- yourusername he has a girlfriend..

user i can imagine y/n just walking around taking pictures of everything and everyone 😭😭😭

user i almost melted when they came on the screen

- user me too 😭 forgot i was watching f1 for a second

wroetoshaw i still think i shouldve worn my ferrari outfit #hater

- yourusername youd be sticking out like a sore thumb youre lucky i stopped you #loser #youalmostworepajamapants

user y/n looked so good there 😍

user i LIVE for y/n and landos friendship

faithlouisak i cant believe you chose him over me..

- yourusername im sorry bae.. next time im taking u

faithlouisak finest woman out there

calfreezy wtf fake friends.. theburntchip are you seeing what im seeing ???

- theburntchip bunch of fakies😔

holy what a yap fest lmfao please someone REQUEST something 😭 cause this is too plain.. !

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ostensiblynone · 11 days ago

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A Noel Gallagher interview with Weller circa 1999

The Observer Magazine | October 1999

Sex, drugs, rock'n'roll…

Both spokesmen for their respective generations, it's perhaps unsurprising that the men behind The Jam and Oasis became friends. Here, they talk frankly together for the first time about music, the daughter Paul Weller has never mentioned in print before, Noel Gallagher's fears about fatherhood… and Liam's behaviour at the birth of his son

On a warm autumn afternoon, in a secluded rehearsal studio, Noel Gallagher, rock star and dad-to-be, is telling Paul Weller and The Observer about the exact point he decided that the party was over.

'It was about a year and a half ago, right?' he says, dragging on a Benson & Hedges. 'And I just said: "That's it, man, the bar's closed." The house in London was like a nightclub. I'd be coming back off tour, and people would go: "Your house is lovely." And I'd be like (irate): "Who the fuck are you?" '

Weller laughs and says to me: 'He's left me outside before, shouting through the letterbox. I wasn't allowed to come in. I was on the D-list.'

Noel ignores him. 'There comes a point when you just can't do it any more,' he says. 'You can't go to any more parties, you can't drink any more drinks, you can't do any more drugs. There comes a point when you've just got to go, "All this has got to change." I've seen it all before, man, you know what I mean?' He turns to Weller for moral support. 'It's kind of like the first time you have sex, isn't it? Every time after that you've done it before, haven't you?'

'Oh, I don't know,' says Weller drily. 'Some of us get better after the first time, Noel.'

We're in the mixing room of Huckenden Farm, near High Wickham, where Oasis (or rather, what's left of Oasis after the recent departure of guitarist Paul 'Bonehead' Arthur and bassist Paul 'Guigs' McGuigan) are set to rehearse for the foreseeable future. Weller (it's always 'Weller') is a suave vision in sheepskin, while Noel (it's always 'Noel') sits slouched forward in his chair, with his anorak zipped up almost to his nose.

At times, watching them banter together, punting for punch lines, they seem less like a British rock-music dream team (trad division), and more like Brit-rock's George and Mildred, only with added swearing and drugs. According to legend, the first thing that Noel Gallagher ever said to Paul Weller was: 'Piss off!'

'That's right, isn't it, Paul?' says Noel, pulling up a swivel chair and lounging on it. 'You were helping yourself to our rider at Glastonbury, and I wasn't having any of it.'

Weller can't remember much about it.

'I was drunk.' Nor does the 41-year-old 'Modfather of the Rock Aristocracy' seem especially keen to analyse why it is that he and the 32-year-old 'Saviour of British Guitar Music' have turned out to be such good mates. 'You just click with certain people, don't you?' says Weller gruffly, sticking his hands yet deeper into his jacket pockets. He's smiling, though.

Indeed, the only time that the notoriously touchy Weller gets remotely stroppy is when I refer to the photograph of him, Noel and Paul McCartney, taken at the time they recorded 'Come Together' for the Bosnian War Child project. It was then that the derogatory term 'Dad-rock' was coined, and it has stuck ever since. In some people's eyes, Weller and Gallagher being friends was suspicious enough. When their mutual hero, McCartney, came into the frame, it was as if Sixties elitism was taking over.

'It wasn't like we were jerking off,' sighs Weller, exasperated. 'We were doing something for a specific reason. And with it being three generations of people and all that, I thought it was pretty cool.' Noel nods his head in agreement.

Where their backgrounds are concerned, Noel and Weller have a lot in common. Both were small-town boys with the sort of big dreams that their respective localities, Manchester and Woking (to which Weller eventually returned), couldn't begin to accommodate. 'Wanting more, being dissatisfied with your lot, that's where the push comes from,' says Weller. 'It's not just an artistic trait, it's down to individuals striving to be something else.'

'Exactly,' says Noel. 'Even if I wasn't in a band, if I was a milkman, I'd still be saving up to travel the world. Just getting pissed down the pub would never be enough for me.'

Noel and Weller also have something in common politically, in that they've both been in bed with the Labour part - Weller on behalf of the doomed Red Wedge movement in the Eighties.

'Once I met the people involved, I thought, "Get me out of here." Forget show business, these people had egos the size of that barn.'

Noel, even more famously, went to Number 10 for a drinks party that he's never been able to live down since. 'I was just carried away by my own self-importance', he admits. 'I just thought: "Fuck me, if the prime minister wants to see me, I must be a right geezer!" '

Both men lived to regret their involvement. 'Nothing really changes, does it?' says Noel. 'Same shit, different day.' Nor is either of them particularly impressed by New Labour notions of self-improvement.

'They think that working-class people want to be middle class, but they don't,' says Weller. 'Wanting some bucks and a nice house isn't wanting to be middle class.'

'Yeah,' scoffs Noel. 'What was it: "We're all middle class now." I find that really insulting. Being middle class is just one step closer to topping yourself, if you ask me. It's just the most boring thing I could ever imagine.'

I ask Weller if, over the course of their friendship, there were any preconceptions about Noel that he'd found to be untrue.

'No,' he says grimly. 'It's all true.' As it happens, Weller was impressed by Oasis from the start. 'They really kicked the Nineties up the arse. They were the band everybody needed to hear.'

For his part, Noel was a little young to be a hardcore fan at The Jam's peak. 'But, in my weight division, I was probably the biggest Jam fan for miles around. When I first saw Paul on telly, on Top Of The Pops, with The Jam, I didn't give a fuck where he came from, or what his politics were. His records blew my head off, and that was it.'

The fact that, all these years later, The Jam continue to 'blow people's heads off' is the main reason we're talking today. This week sees the release of Fire & Skill, a tribute album of Jam covers. The first single from it, 'Carnation', by Liam Gallagher and Ocean Colour Scene's Steve Cradock, went straight to number six in the charts. And simply because it is The Jam, Fire & Skill looks destined to do much better business than the standard tribute album.

Indeed, in terms of the respect and affection people still have for them, it wouldn't be too outrageous to describe The Jam as the Beatles in parkas. Weller, a living, breathing Quadrophenia movie, was singer, guitarist and songwriter; Bruce Foxton was on bass, and Rick Buckler was on drums. Together, they burnt a target-shaped hole in the nation's consciousness in the late Seventies and early Eighties, with albums such as Setting Sons, All Mod Cons and Sound Affects and singles such as 'Down In The Tube Station At Midnight', 'Eton Rifles' and 'Tales From The Riverbank'.

Blooded in working mens' clubs, and devoted to sharp tailoring, Weller and The Jam kept their mod ethos, even as they embraced the 'no star' ideals of punk. 'We used to stay for hours after gigs just talking to fans,' recalls Weller. 'Our relationship with them was one of the really special things about The Jam. We kept to the punk rules more than the punks did.'

During this time, Weller saw The Sex Pistols play at the 100 Club, which, in modern rock terms, is a bit like being in the stable when Jesus was born. Even now, Weller still retains a strong affection for the punk era, while having no time whatsoever for those bands who've seen fit to regroup over the years. 'People go on about the Chinese population boom,' he grumbles. 'But there must be more reformed bands around than Chinese people. Soon, there won't be enough electricity to go round, because they'll all be plugging their amps in.'

Should bands be caretakers of their own legends, Noel?

'I'll tell you in about 20 years.'

Weller split The Jam in 1982. 'The best thing I could have done,' he says. 'You wouldn't want to see me jumping about in The Jam in 1999, would you?' Maybe not, but many people find it odd that, since the split, Weller has never once spoken to Foxton or Buckler. 'I don't see why it's such a big deal,' he says. 'I never liked them. All this stuff keeps coming out about how they're always trying to make contact, and it gets on my tits. It wasn't like I ever felt any real support from them when I was writing all those songs. Nothing like, "You did a good job there, Paul. Well done!" Well, maybe from Bruce a bit, but with Rick there was nothing. I'm not bitter about it, I just don't care. When we were playing together on stage, it happened, and that's all that ever mattered to me. They were never the first people I'd go for a drink with.'

Foxton and Buckler don't appear on Fire & Skill, but Weller does, on the secret track 'No One In The World', at the end of the CD. 'I just happened to be there when Steve [Cradock] was laying down the vocals,' he shrugs. 'I didn't plan to be on my own tribute album.'

Noel, for his part, chose to record 'To Be Someone', the caustic cautionary tale about the rock star who has it all, blows it, and gets so smashed he can't even remember whether he enjoyed any of it in the first place. Remind anyone of anyone? As it was recorded more than two years ago, Noel is the first to admit that the moral of the lyric was wasted on him at the time, mainly because he was pretty wasted at the time.

'The song definitely means more to me now than it did then,' he says. 'I was living it then - going out, doing loads of drugs, the lot. I made an effort to sound earnest because I was being paid £20,000 for it, but it was quite ironic singing those lyrics because I was bang on it at the time.'

How 'bang on it'?

'Very. The way things were around my place, it was almost like I had no choice. If everyone in your house is doing it, then you're hardly going to sit there with a can of Coke doing nothing. It would be rude not to join in, wouldn't it? Well, that was always my excuse, anyway.'

He grins at Weller, who is laughing and shaking his head mock-despairingly.

How about you during The Jam years? It must have been all speed and glue-sniffing when you were a boy?

'Oh yeah,' says Weller, pulling a silly face. ' "Hey everyone, it's Saturday night, let's splash out on a bit of glue!" Nahhh!' He shrugs. 'We couldn't afford drugs, or find them in Woking. And I probably wouldn't have done them even if we could.' He shakes his head, for real this time. 'You'll never see me waving the flag for drugs, because I've seen the arse-end of them as well. One of my best friends died of an overdose, and I had a really bad acid trip when I was a kid, and all that stuff put me off. I've had a bash obviously, but it hasn't done me any favours. I've never seen drugs as part of my culture really.'

Weller's voice trails away, grows a bit wistful. 'People just want to escape, don't they? Some for a little while, some for ever more.'

For the longest time, Noel Gallagher and drugs were a match made in powdery heaven. 'Being famous is a good laugh when you're on drugs. You meet people and go, "Nah, nah, fucking, nah", and everyone goes, "Wow, hasn't he got loads of charisma.'' And, really, you're just hammered.' Then, relatively recently, Noel started having terrifying panic attacks. 'Anxiety and all that.'

'What's the matter?' says Weller. 'Couldn't you find your gear?'

Exactly how frightening was it, I ask Noel.

He gives me a look. 'It would have to be pretty frightening to make me consider packing it in, wouldn't it?'

What about Liam?

'Oh, he's all right. He's got three years until he's 30. He'll grow up eventually, in the time it takes to get his free bus pass.' Noel feels now that after Oasis played Knebworth in 1996, he probably felt a little aimless. 'Where could anyone go after that?'

What everyone seems agreed on is that, sooner or later, drugs start to affect your songwriting for the worst. All around us, in the studio, there are signs of a band determined to recover their 'natural high', so to speak. Behind Weller, on the mixing desk, sits a Dinky toy Marahishi, surrounded by four dinky toy Beatles. In the main rehearsal room, Oasis have placed pictures of John Lennon among the studio's own vintage Sixties posters. It makes you wonder what the new album (working title: Where Did It All Go Wrong?) is going to sound like. Or rather, it doesn't make you wonder at all (a wee bit Beatlesy is my wild prediction).

The important news is that Noel feels back on track after the over-hyped, under-loved excesses of Be Here Now. And what times they were. The helicopters. The armoured vans. The strong-arming over playlists. The egomania. The tantrums in America. The giant telephone boxes on stage. As Weller puts it: 'All that stuff that happens when a band are left to their own good taste and devices.' For a while back there, Oasis seemed less of a band than a rock-industry version of GoodFellas. Any regrets, Noel?

'Oh yeah, absolutely,' he says. 'More than anything else, I regret not taking enough time over the songs. We've had a year off before doing this album, but we should have taken the year off before Be Here Now. There's probably three decent songs on that album. The rest of it was just winging it.'

Isn't that being a bit hard on yourself?

'No, it isn't,' says a sharp voice. It belongs to Weller. Not for the first time, I notice how, for all that they are mutually respectful, Noel and Weller are also very hard on each other, to the point of being brutal. There are times during the interview when they pace around like two big, proud cats in adjoining cages, pausing occasionally to stick a paw through the bars and take not-so-playful swipes at each other's heads.

Maybe one of the reasons they are such good friends is that they can discuss 'quality control' without resorting to platitudes or sycophancy. It's probably not so much a 'guy thing' as it is a 'success thing'. When you're a 'spokesman for a generation', maybe the only person you can trust to tell you the truth is, well, another 'spokesman for a generation'.

Noel agrees with Weller, anyway.

'I think his exact words at the time of Be Here Now were: "Coasting, you're fucking coasting." And it has to be seen as disappointing when, after eight months of the album being out, you're still signing copies of the other two. Still, to this day, I've only signed about three copies of Be Here Now.'

'In the course of a writer's life, you get these highs and lows,' says Weller.

'Yeah, I know,' smiles Noel. 'And I have to say that the best thing that could ever have happened was that album getting panned. It made me sit up and go, "Hang on, I'm not God's gift to the music business." If that album had sold more than the other two, I don't know what would have happened. I'd probably be sat here now, farting into your tape recorder, going, "Put a breakbeat behind that - it will be number one next week!" '

Oasis's troubles aren't quite over yet. On the plus side, the new album is coming along well, and the famously fiery relationship between the Gallagher brothers seems to be mellowing. 'I'm tired of analysing me and Liam,' says Noel. 'I'm in a band with him, and I'm always going to be in a band with him. Whether it's good or bad, could be better, could be worse, is irrelevant. I'd freak out if he wasn't there. He's the bullshit detector in anything I do.'

However, while they have found the new Bonehead (Gem, formerly of Heavy Stereo), Oasis have yet to find a bass player. 'Every-one wants to be Jimi Hendrix, these days,' moans Noel. 'No one wants to be Bill Wyman. I don't think even Bill Wyman wants to be Bill Wyman.' He has little patience with speculation that the rift was caused by his and Liam's legendary rows.

'I don't really know why they left, because they haven't had the courtesy to ring me and explain, but, you know, all bands row, fall out and walk off tours. Admittedly, not as much or as publicly as we do, but they all do it.'

So, you have no real explanation to give to your fans?

'No', replies Noel. 'And I don't think it's me that owes people the explanation.' He holds his hands up innocently. 'I haven't left the band. I'm still here.'

With everything going a bit Spinal Tap for Oasis, it would be easy to forget that they remain the defining band of their era, with two classic albums, Definitely Maybe and (What's The Story) Morning Glory, and possibly another in the pipeline. Weller, for one, is watching Noel with a look in his eye that suggests that he personally wouldn't want to go through band-hell again.

'No, I wouldn't. It's a young man's game.' Right now, Weller is working on the follow-up to 1997's Heavy Soul. 'I've got to prove myself to myself again.' Before the massive success of Wild Wood and Stanley Road, he had his own 'humbling' period when his post-Jam outfit, The Style Council, had their fifth album rejected by Polydor.

For a long time, Paul Weller was about as fashionable as leg warmers. 'It needed to happen, it brought me down to earth,' he says. 'I hadn't been living life - real life - properly, do you know what I mean? But it was hard, very hard, finding myself at 30, with no job, no contract, my first child, and nothing really to do with the rest of my life.' Weller smiles ruefully. 'It taught me a big lesson, and hopefully one I won't forget. I was lucky that I had my family around to support me.'

The ongoing Paul Weller project has always been something of a family affair. His dad, John, is his manager; his mum, Ann, and sister, Nikki, used to run his fan club. Weller is totally devoted to his family, and they to him. Back in the Jam days, they would think nothing of having the phone disconnected to raise money for equipment.

'I come from a very loving background,' he says. 'But you know what? I'm still as insecure. It's not their fault, it's just the way I am. I don't sit there analysing it. I just accept that that's the way it is.'

Noel is looking on enviously. 'My background wasn't like that,' he quips. 'Mine was like the Clampetts.'

That's putting it mildly. Gallagher Senior was, by all accounts, a violent, uncaring drunk, which left mum, Peggy, picking up all the pieces. At times, Noel goes to great pains to be gleefully, provocatively sexist. 'Call me old-fashioned, but, you know, women - fuck 'em!' However, the fact remains that, at the height of his fame, the Mancunian groupie magnet jumped into a serious relationship with Meg Matthews. As did Liam with Patsy Kensit. 'I like things to be stable,' says Noel. 'I'm not into chaos.'

Later he says: 'Childhood stuff isn't everything, is it? There's all that stuff that happens between 17 and 20 that shapes your outlook on life. Like when you first meet women, or hang out with a gang of friends. It's how you think about yourself, too. Lying down and having a think before you go to sleep, and realising that you might smoke a bit of spliff, and you might rob a few car stereos, but you're not this major criminal they would have you believe on News At Ten. You're not a bad person deep down inside, know what I mean?'

'I don't think that childhood always decrees how a person is going to turn out,' agrees Weller. 'Love always makes a difference whatever your age, but if you look at our backgrounds and look at us, I'd say that, if anything, Noel was more confident than me, and no less the loving person for it, if you don't mind me saying so, Noel?'

'I don't mind you saying so, Paul. I agree, I agree!' splutters Noel.

For a comical, and rather touching moment, the two men stare at each other in speechless, giggling astonishment, as if to say: 'What's going on - are we bonding?'

Seriously, Noel, are you haunted by any of it?

'Not at all.'

You'll be a father yourself soon, are you looking forward to that?

'Oh yeah,' he says. 'I can't wait to knock the fuck out of my kids.'

A second later, Noel is crouching with his mouth a millimetre away from the tape recorder: 'Can I just say that I was joking when I said that.'

'Having a shit childhood and stuff,' he says wearily, dragging hard on yet another Bensons & Hedges, 'it can't help but shape your outlook on life, but it should never shape your actions towards other people. I would say that having all that happen is why I'm strong, why I'll always be one of those people for whom the glass is always half full as opposed to half empty.'

Does it make you happy being able to make things easier for your mum?

'Oh yeah,' he says, brightening. 'Because that means that Mum looking after us had some meaning. We can give a little bit back to her. And having kids is part of that, because she's always wanted to be a grandmother. It's not like they're presents for me mum, but it's another meaning of life for her, and another meaning of life for me.'

Noel pauses. 'And just because I got knocked about by my old man, it doesn't mean to say that I would ever knock about my own kids.' His mouth sets in a determined line. 'Because I never ever would.'

Weller has two children, Nat and Leah, with his ex-partner and Style Council bandmate, Dee C Lee. Does he have any wisdom to impart to Noel and Meg about their impending parenthood? 'Yeah,' laughs Weller, slapping Noel on the shoulder. 'Good luck, my son, you're going to need it.'

'I'm shitting myself,' says Noel in a whisper. 'I don't actually know what I'm going to do. I haven't got the faintest idea, me. I'm just trying to book gigs as close as I can to the dates, and make sure that it's speaking by the time I get back.'

Are you going to be there for the birth?' asks Weller.

'I don't really want to be,' says Noel.

'Why not?' says Weller. 'Aren't you on the guest list?'

They both laugh, Noel, slightly hysterically. He saw his nephew, Lennon, at the weekend. 'They don't do much, do they?' he says, as if he'd seriously been expecting to play pool with a newborn baby. 'I'm waiting for mine to get born, obviously, but then I'll be waiting for them to get a personality, because then you can have a laugh with them.'

'There's not much you can do in the first bit,' says Weller (completely incorrectly, I might add). 'You feel a bit useless, but once they're up and walking, it's a whole different world. You can't imagine life without them. It changes everything, but in a good way.'

You've got a son and daughter, haven't you, Paul?

'Two daughters,' he says emphatically.

He even, very briefly, holds up two fingers.

'Two daughters.'

At the time, I was confused. I had seen a photograph in a magazine of Weller bombing along on a moped with Nat and Leah, and I could have sworn that they were a boy and girl. But it seemed that they weren't - they were two girls. The moment passed, and I forgot about it. Then, a couple of days after the interview, Weller's publicist rings. Paul Weller wanted me to know that, actually, he had a son and two daughters.

The second little girl was from a brief relationship after his marriage to Lee had failed. Weller hadn't mentioned this in print before, simply because he didn't feel that it was anybody else's business. However, he'd realised that I'd got the wrong end of the stick, and hadn't felt comfortable. He didn't want his second daughter growing up thinking that he'd tried to hide her away, like some dirty secret.

Oh, I said, nonplussed, did he want to talk about it? No, said the publicist. She really couldn't see that happening. Weller had just wanted to set the record straight, do the right thing that was all.

I remember all this as I'm wandering around the bustling, chaotic launch for Fire & Skill at the Hackney Gallery. I'd parted company with Noel and Weller at Huckenden Farm with an abiding, slightly surreal memory of two of Britain's biggest rock stars executing a dual impersonation of yet another rock star - Liam Gallagher - at the scene of childbirth.

'Can you imagine?' Noel had said. 'Him with a big green mask on, going, "Come on, you fucker, come on!" And: "Is that gas you've got there, mate? Give us some of that." '

'Yeah, and having a go at the doctors,' says Weller. '"Keep your hands off my missus!"'

They laugh and settle back into their chairs. A few more cigarettes lit, a bit more coffee drunk, a few more jokes told, and then that's it, they're gone.

I see Noel again at the Hackney Gallery. Outside, a fleet of specially customised minis with targets on the bonnets are running their batteries down, keeping their lights on in the drizzle. Inside, I see Liam Gallagher leaning against the doorway of the main party room. He's on typically cryptic form.

'I love Paul Weller,' he tells me. 'But I was too young to be really into The Jam. I preferred The Beatles.'

I'm still trying to work that one out when I see Noel chatting to friends at the bar. His glass is half full, as always. I remember what he said at the interview about his current definition of success: 'I could track my life in the records I've made - the first one was young and eager, the second one was a consolidation of those achievements, and the third one was fat and drunk. For the fourth, I want success on my own terms - which is just to be a decent songwriter in a good band.'

Paul Weller isn't at the party, of course. 'He wouldn't come to this sort of thing,' says a close friend of his. 'It isn't his style at all.' And I realise that he's right. Paul Weller is probably sat at home, shunning the showbiz treadmill. Doing the right thing.

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

bonus: [the Paul Weller Fan Podcast: an interview with Julian Broad, where: We also talked about an Observer Magazine shoot from 1999 with Noel Gallagher, and how their mutual admiration made for some great imagery.]

#I'd freak out if he wasn't there. He's the bullshit detector in anything I do #1999 #noel gallagher #paul weller #oasis #the jam #photo by julian broad

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watermelonsugacry · 2 years ago

Note

Could you do a blurb showing how Harry and 1dbandmate!yn reacted over the years when asked in interviews if they were a couple?? please 🙏

Always Asked

A/N: been in a writing funk lately but i'm happy i got this one done since i miss writing and posting to you all!! 💚

SUMMARY: Snippets of interviews over the years from when YN and Harry were asked if they were dating. (3.4k)

GENRE: 1dbandmate!yn, famous!yn

SINCE 2010 masterlist

2011:

Never in a million years did YN ever think her dream career would start so soon. It’s only been a year since she auditioned for the XFactor and now she’s sitting at a table next to her bandmates as hundreds of fans go down the line to get a copy of their freshly signed album.

With copious amounts of screaming comes along an abundance of questions thrown at the teenagers. Most of the time, it’s YN giving the screaming fans a beautiful smile, asking them how they are, and thanking them for their kind words before passing the signed CD case to Harry. With all the excitement in the air, she feels like she’s truly living the pop star lifestyle she’d seen many others live out.

“Hiya, love,” YN smiles at the preteen girl who’s practically vibrating with excitement at seeing the famous band. She also gives a polite greeting to the supportive dad of the young girl who has his hands on his daughter’s shoulders. “How are you? I love your shirt.”

She compliments, smiling at seeing the young girl wearing a shirt with YN’s face on it.

“My dad got it for me for my birthday!” The little fan beams.

“Did he?” YN animatedly gasps with a smile. “Well, it was nice of him to take you over here, yeah?”

She signs the CD case with a heart over her name before sliding it over to Harry. His fingers brush over hers and the two of them catch each other’s gaze. A smile tugs on their lips before looking away just as quickly.

“Are you two dating?” The young girl practically screams out, her eyes bouncing back and forth excitedly between YN and Harry.

The two teenagers tense up, thrown off by the question in such a crowded place. Their management team is still media-training them and while they’ve learned so much already, they’re still getting used to taking what they’ve learned out into the field.

YN and Harry give each other a look, already knowing the answer but searching in one another’s eyes for maybe a smidge of something more.

“Lilly!” The dad scolds before letting out a chuckle. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” YN shakes her head with a smile, hoping it's convincing enough to not cause any suspicion. “Sorry Lilly, but Harry and I aren’t dating because quite frankly—” She beckons the little fan closer, cupping her mouth but still being loud so her bandmate can hear, “—he has cooties.”

Harry’s immediately furrowing his brows together and lets out a long and playful, “Hey!”

“Ew!” Lilly laughs, seeming satisfied with that answer before waving goodbye and walking towards the rest of the band.

Before they can dwell on what just happened, thankfully the next fan shuffles over for their own interaction and signed copy.

2012:

The band is at their first Brits Awards show and needless to say, they all got a little tipsy after their win. Their team didn’t even have time to give them a snack or water bottle to help sober them up a little bit before their backstage press interviews.

“Harry, how will you guys be celebrating tonight?” A journalist asks from the crowd.

“Erm,” Harry giggles to himself and it makes YN tipsily follow from her spot next to him. The hand that isn't gripping onto their award goes to cover her smile. “I think we’re just gonna hang out and stuff.”

“YN? Is there any lucky man whom you will be celebrating with?” Another voice in the sea of reporters asks.

“Nope,” YN raises her eyes with a tipsy smile and a slow shake of her head. She shakes her thumb towards her boys with a click of her tongue. “Just these lads.”

“Any lucky lad in particular? Perhaps a curly-headed one standing next to you?”

Almost as if it was planned, the two teenagers comically look beside each other, cranking their necks in playful search of who the intrusive lady was referring to.

“Me?” Harry dramatically questions, pointing to his chest with a bright, open-mouthed, dimpled smile gracing his face.

“Well, I mean he is part of the band, is he not?” YN sassily purses her lips together, her media-training to retain her “good girl” image slipping out of her alcohol induced brain.

Thankfully, before anything could be escalated further by the tipsy girl, the intrusive press, or the snickering boys, a member from their management team instructs the audience to move onto another person.

2013:

“You guys have known each other for what seems like forever now and your bond with the rest of the guys is so strong...”

YN reaches forward for a sip from her glass of water on the panel table in her seat in between Harry and Niall. It’s been a long week for the band as they do press for their new movie, This Is Us. They’ve been thrown left and right with interviews that YN can’t help but already be done with the repetitiveness of some of the questions.

“So then we’re all clearly curious to know if you and Harry are dating?”

“Nope,” YN pops the ‘P’ and shakes her head as if her actions were automatically programmed to respond in that way. She casually waves her finger between the two boys beside her, “But him and Niall are though.”

The crowd of press people laugh and chuckle as they see Naill gasp and Harry raise his eyebrows in playful shock.

“I mean, you kinda pointed it out,” YN puts on her media-trained smile good enough to win an Oscar. “These lads are like my brothers and our bond is so strong because we see each other more like family than anything else. I see them more as annoying than someone I'd rather date, to be honest,” she forces out a light laugh.

“Plus, as YN so kindly pointed out,” Harry leans on his elbows on the table as he looks to his crush next to him. YN can see his dimple dig into his cheek as he fights off a smirk. “M’happily in a committed relationship with Niall.”

Harry doesn’t take his eyes off of his bandmate as he leans back into his seat. He watches as she tucks her chin into her chest, her fingers rubbing over her lips to cover her giggle as the rest of the room breaks out in commotion.

2014:

“Can we assume that the rock on your finger is from a certain curly-headed lad?” The woman who’s interviewing them for the band’s new book Who We Are excitedly asks.

The band are all sat on an L-shaped couch as they discuss the contents of the hard cover book. Sat in between Zayn and Niall, YN purposely avoids her gaze from Harry as she answers.

“No,” YN lets out a forced chuckle as she looks down to fidget with the diamond ring on her finger. Anyone who has looked at more than three pictures of YN can tell that her favorite pieces of jewelry are her assortment of rings along her fingers. But only true fans know that part of her liking to the small jewelry is to help her fidget with them when she has anxiety. It’s an odd feeling however that the newly gifted one has been the cause of her increase in nerves. “It’s um, from me boyfriend—well, fiancé now—Matthew. Harry is like a brother to me so that would be quite weird.”

“Of course! I was only teasing, love.” The woman laughs with an over-exaggerated smile, clearly disappointed in the answer she was given. “Congratulations to you both.”

“Thank you,” YN forces a smile, still twisting at the shiny ring that sticks out like a sore thumb.

2015:

“YN.”

“James.” She says with the same amount of playful seriousness, the audience in front of them laughs along. As the date of the band’s long-awaited hiatus comes closer and closer, their good friend James Corden interviews them in the same location where they filmed the music video for Story of My Life.

“Harold,” the host directs his attention to the band member sitting next to her.

The fans in the crowd only giggle in giddiness even further as Harry playfully throws a hand up in confusion with what the fans call his ‘frog’ smile.

“Now, we are all truly devastated when we heard the news that you and your long-time partner had called it quits a couple of weeks ago.” The audience laughs when James comically shakes his head no. YN even lets out a laugh when she sees the fans in the audience cheer at the news of her new relationship status. Despite the support she feels from the fans, it doesn’t necessarily calm the nerves at why the host brought the topic up in the first place. “Now we’re also all wondering if this may have possibly opened up, I don’t know, an opportunity for you to seek something with another lad?”

“Um,” YN lazily holds her microphone to her lips as she gives James the news that will hopefully shut down the conversation. “I think m’gonna just focus on myself for a bit. Yeh know, take a break from dating and all that.”

The room breaks out into chuckles when the host makes noises like he doesn’t believe her. He wags his interview cards in the air as he says, "I mean, both of your writing credits on some love songs tell me otherwise..."

Truthfully, the two friends can't deny that logic. They've either individually or co-wrote a plethora of love songs...that may or may not have been about each other. But will they ever admit that to a room full of their fans who have been shipping them since their XFactor days? Hello no.

“Well, the beauty that YN and I see in music is that songs are always up for interpretation," Harry interjects. "They can mean anything you want them to be, in any sort of scenario.”

“Yeah, like, lyrics don’t always necessarily have to come from a place of experience,” YN adds on, professionally keeping her voice from wavering in nervousness. “It certainly helps but that’s not always the case. Especially now.”

She can’t help but laugh along with the rest of the crowd as James holds an expression like he doesn’t believe a word they said.

“Okay, fine. Deny it all you want,” James puts his hands up defensively. “I just...I don’t know, I just think that this could really be Something Great.”

The room of fans (and die hard ynrry shippers) squeal and scream out in a mixture of excitement and disbelief from his use of the One Direction songs that are heavily speculated to be about YN and Harry.

“Whatever, it’s your guy’s decision at the End of the Day,” James continues nonchalantly, trying to hide the smile that shows that he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Fans’ eyes bounce back and forth between the two band members in question. They see as YN has her hands clasped together on her crossed legs, biting the inside of her cheek to keep her witty comments to herself. Harry, on the other hand, leans his elbow on his knee with his index finger over his smirk. He tries to cover up his chuckle with a cough to his fist before pushing back his long curls.

“All we want is for you guys to live Happily ever after, is all.”

2017:

“Now, both of you little sneaky sneaks went to Jamaica together to make his album. Come on, tell me I’m wrong,” Nick Grimshaw teases, wiggling his fingers in a beckoning motion.

The two were currently on BBC Radio with their good friend that they’ve known since their days in the band. Dropping their first solo albums in the same week caused their fan bases to go into a frantic frenzy. The two have a full day ahead of them as their record labels and management teams paired the two up for a day jam-packed with press and interviews together.

“You are not wrong,” Harry laughs, adjusting the chunky headphones over his ears. He’s already rolled up his white button-up sleeves and discarded his picnic table-looking blazer to lay on the back of his chair.

“Sneaky sneaks?” YN chuckles next to him, leaning her elbows on the counter and moving her hips to rotate her swiveling seat from side to side.

“Well, I only say that because you guys are obviously dating now, right?”

“Do girl and guy best friends always have to be dating?” YN easily swerves the question back to the radio host.

“Well,” Grimmy tilts his head from side to side. “Not necessarily, but wouldn’t that be a good story? For your future kiddos perhaps?”

YN and Harry bark out a laugh.

“Sorry, m’getting ahead of myself. Maybe you lads would want to save that for your wedding day instead.”

“Can I swear on the radio?” YN playfully yet genuinely asks the host which makes Harry giggle.

“But I mean, what are your fans—and quite frankly, the rest of the world—supposed to think when a good majority of the songs on his album are about you, Miss Two Ghosts?” Nick teases with a wiggle of his eyebrow.

YN’s jaw humorously drops, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as a nervous laugh threatens to escape. The two knew that they would get poked and pried with questions and accusations like this since their trip to Jamaica. There’s no use in trying to deny their close relationship with one another, spending more time with one another than any of their fellow band members since the start of the hiatus.

Unable to quickly come up with an explanation, being so caught off guard, she turns to the only other person she can trust.

“Jenny?” YN playfully calls for her manager who’s behind the glass window of the radio studio, leaning forward to look at her despite Harry in the way.

“Help me, Jeffery,” Harry playfully pleads to his manager as well.

“No, no Jeffery. Jenny, get back in your chair, young lady.” Nick points out for the listeners who can’t see what’s currently happening. “Alright, I’ll stop, I’ll stop,” The host waves his hands, seeing the two visually calm down at the news. “Now, I’ll just play the one Harry wrote about YN. This is Two Ghosts!”

Harry playfully yells out an “Oh, no!” as he pushes himself away from the desk. YN lets out a humored scream at the same time, taking off her chunky radio headphones and tossing them onto the desk.

2020:

“Okay, a big question that I’ve been getting on Twitter since it was announced that the two of you would be on here today,” Roman Kemp waves a hand in front of him at the Capital FM Breakfast Radio headquarters as he looks onto the two pop stars in front of him on the Zoom call. The couple can be seen in two separate rooms: Harry in a naturally lit room while YN sits against one of the brick walls in her bedroom.

Harry has his purple robe on that his girlfriend gifted him a couple of years ago, looking as comfy as ever since he doesn’t have to get dressed up to go outside for anything lately due to being on lockdown.

YN on the other hand, didn’t want to miss the opportunity to get dolled up. Well, at least from the waist up. She wears one of her silk button-up blouses with her last name embroidered on the left chest, her hair neatly done up in a slick ponytail and her make-up nicely done. When she got complimented on her look, she clumsily lifted her leg up to show off her heart-decorated, fluffy pajama pants.

“And I feel like both of your fan bases combined would come out of quarantine to quite literally murder me if I don’t ask you guys this...” YN and Harry keep a mutual face on as they wait to hear what the host has to say. “We all know that you guys are an official couple now, but are you guys physically staying together at the moment? Like, are you guys living together or at the same house or...?”

The couple takes a second to process the intimate question. As Harry parts his lips to answer, he’s interrupted by his girlfriend speaking first.

“Y’know, we’re kind of tired of getting questions like this. I don’t think it’s really appropriate for other people to know about that kind of stuff,” The crease between YN’s eyebrows becomes more apparent and her shoulders move sharply after letting out a deep sigh.

“Oh, I-I’m so sorry if I offended you guys—” The radio host quickly begins to retract.

“M’sorry but I think m’actually gonna log off now. Erm, thank you for having us.” YN curtly nods before the host and Harry’s faces fill the screen, both with wide eyes at the unexpected reaction from the go-happy pop star.

“Wait, did that really just happen?” Roman and the other two interviewers are deers in headlights, his eyes bouncing around the screen to make sure what just took place.

“I think so,” Harry sighs. “It’s just a sensitive topic for us, y’know. I can’t really blame her for what she did,” He professionally hides his smile as he hears the quick pad of footsteps coming down her spiral staircase.

“I really meant no harm, it’s just—”

“It’s just really hard to keep our private life private, you know?” Harry drags on with a deep sigh. “And it's just really hard for us to have to answer things like this. Like, we don’t really know what you guys expect us to do when...” Harry’s dimples dig into his cheeks, a boyish giggle comes tumbling past his lips when YN peaks her head sideways in front of his laptop camera.

“YN!” Romans scolds with a bright smile, infinitely relieved he didn’t just make enemies with the world’s favorite female pop star. He dramatically throws a hand over his heart.

“Sorry, I’m sorry! It was just too good and Ro, I think you’re the only one that would be able to handle a joke like that.” YN laughs as she slides in close to her comfy-looking boyfriend.

“So I’m assuming this confirms my previous question?” The host asks excitedly.

“Yeah,” Harry smiles fondly at his love, discreetly wrapping an arm around her waist that’s low enough to not be shown on camera. “We’ve been living at YN’s place in LA for a couple of weeks now. And yeah, it’s been fun.”

2022:

In a full black suit, Harry is escorted to the next interviewer on the red carpet for the premiere of My Policeman. After a couple of initial questions, the eager woman asks, “Last thing before you get whisked away, on behalf of the fandom and everyone else on this planet, we just want to send a massive amount of love to you and YN.”

“Thank you very much,” He nods, putting a hand over his heart and trying his hardest to keep the growing smile on his face at bay.

“And we are all just dying to know,” She takes a quick, excited glance back to the camera. “If you’re going to drop the big question soon?”

Harry can’t help but huff out a laugh, the kind where his dimples dig into his cheeks and the crows feet appear next to his eyes. If they only knew that YN kept the ring he gave her—the ring that signifies their promise to become husband and wife on their anniversary—at home for the sake of privacy and for this very reason.

“Um,” He looks up in fake contemplation before giving her a cheeky shrug. “I dunno. Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows?”

“Well, best of luck to you both.”

After being escorted away, the camera doesn’t stop filming Harry as he goes over to stand next to his fiancée on the red carpet. Although the camera can’t pick up what YN says to Emma Corin that makes the actress laugh, her beaming smile turns to Harry when she feels his hand on her back. He can’t hold back from planting a loving peck on her cheek before the two are escorted to their next section on the red carpet.

2023:

On a show in Cardiff, Harry adjusts a flag on his shoulder as he walks around the catwalk on stage. As he begins to sing Satellite, he makes a stop to sing to a group by the barricade.

It’s nothing new to YN and Harry’s respective shows when fans bring signs with something on it to get the artists’ attention. Honestly, it’s become one of the parts of the show they look forward to the most.

So when Harry’s eyes move over to a newly raised sign that says ‘shag?’ on it, he breaks out into a smirk. Part of the fun of when fans bring signs is that there’s always a handful that asks these sorts of questions: Are you single? Can I have your number? Are you dating?

It’s not so much the content written on the signs that makes the interaction so enjoyable; it’s the response that he gives.

Because all Harry does is break out into that dimpled, love sick smile that YN can’t get enough of and happily points to his wedding band.

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