pagejodi

[pagejodi]

˚⟡˖࣪🧸ྀིComfort Zone-OB87

Masterlist - Request

Pairing: Oliver bearman x fem!reader

Summary: After a tough race in Imola, Ollie finds comfort in quiet moments, and the warmth of being wrapped up with you.

Warnings: language, fluff, hurt/comfort

a/n: Sorry it took so long to get another fic out, but here is a little one shot I wrote comforting ollie after Imola. Happy reading -Jodi🤍

The sun was setting over Imola, bathing everything in a golden, magic-hour glow. Fans were still trickling out of the stands, their excitement lingering faintly in the air. But down by the team hospitality’s, it was quiet and I was waiting.

Ollie saw me before I noticed him. He leaned against the red-painted wall, his hair messy from the long day. A soft smile tugged at my lips as our eyes met. My heart did those stupid little flips. I still couldn’t believe we were really together.

“Hi, baby,” I said, my voice gentle, full of warmth and comfort. His eyes sparkled with traces of tiredness and sadness, but still full of love. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, pulling me close.

“Hello, love,” he murmured, low and weary.

“You did a good job, honey,” I whispered, resting my cheek against his chest.

“But I didn’t even get in the points,” he teased, a soft chuckle rumbling through him. I pulled back just enough to look up at him, my fingers tracing absent circles along the back of his fireproofs. “Oh honey you don’t have to score points to make me proud,” I said, letting a small smile spread across my face. “You pushed. You fought. That means something too.”

Ollie sighed, resting his forehead gently against my shoulder. “You always know what to say,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. “Even when I feel like absolute shit.”

“You’re allowed to feel disappointed,” I replied, brushing strands of hair behind his ears. “But you’re not allowed to forget how talented you are.” Lifting his head slowly he smirked softly, the kind that only appeared when he was trying to hide how much my words meant.

“If I’m not careful, I might fall even more in love with you.” “You’re already so far gone, Bearman,” I teased, nudging him lightly with my shoulder. He chuckled, that tired laugh that still made my heart flutter. Then he kissed me—slow and unhurried, like the world around us had gone quiet just for a moment. When we pulled apart, the sky was starting to fade into soft shades of purples and blues. He slipped his hand into mine.

“Let’s go back to the hotel. It’s been a long week,” he said, his thumb brushing along my knuckles. “Race weekends aren’t supposed to end this calmly,” I joked, leaning into his side as we started walking. “No,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my temple. “But I like it better this way.”

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The drive back was quiet. Not awkward, but peaceful. Ollie had his hand on my thigh the whole way, his thumb drawing slow circles through the fabric of my dress. The sky shined but the city lights flickering like stars. When we reached the hotel, we didn’t say much just exchanged soft smiles, fingers still intertwined as we made our way through the lobby and into the elevator.

It was late enough that no one lingered, just the distant hum of conversations and the gentle chime as the elevator doors closed around us. Ollie leaned against the wall, pulling me gently into him. His arms slid around my waist, and I let myself melt into his chest. “Today felt like a blur,” he said, his voice muffled by my hair.

“Mm. But we’re here now.” I tilted my head up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “And you’re with me. That’s all I wanted.” His eyes softened, and in the hush of the elevator, he kissed me again deeper this time. Not rushed, but fuller. A kind of kiss that was slow but full of love. That felt like he was letting go of the weight he'd been carrying all day. We barely noticed the ding as we reached our floor. He laced his fingers with mine again, pulling me gently down the hallway, fumbling with the key card until the door clicked open.

The room was dim, lit only by the glow of city lights shining through the sheer curtains. He dropped his bag by the door, kicked off his shoes, and turned to me with that look the one that made my breath catch. “You always wait for me,” he said, stepping closer. “Even on the hard days.” I shrugged, trying to keep my voice light. “I’m yours. Good days, bad days, all of it.”. Ollie didn’t answer right away. He just reached out, cupped my face in both hands, and kissed me again—slow and steady, like he was trying to memorize the moment.

When he pulled back, wrapped me in his embrace, his voice was barely a whisper.

“I love you, You know that” he said, tugging me gently toward the bed. Letting him drag me along because being wrapped up in Ollie, heart to heart in a quiet hotel room in Italy, felt like the safest place in the world right now.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

We stayed wrapped up in each other for a while, neither of us in a rush to move. Eventually, Ollie mumbled something about changing out of his team kit and into something softer. A few minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom, hair damp and messy, wearing an old t-shirt and jogger.

While I was lay in bed with his hoodie on flipping though the channels trying to find something to watch. “Do you want to order something to eat?” I asked, curled up on the edge of the bed, phone already in hand. “Only if it involves a stupid amount of carbs and sugar,” he groaned, flopping down beside me with his arm over his eyes. “Today was mentally and physical draining.” Reaching for his shoulder rubbing it gently. He peeked at me from under his arm, smirking. “And yet you’re still in love with me.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Rude,” he laughed, reaching over to pinch my side. We settled on pasta and garlic bread from a little local place near by, with tiramisu for dessert because, as he put it, “If I can’t win on track, I’ll win with food.” By the time it arrived, we were halfway through a movie neither of us had seen before, something light and funny, the kind you didn’t have to think too hard about.

Ollie sat cross-legged at the head of the bed while I leaned back against his chest, a bowl of pasta in my lap and his chin resting on my shoulder. He fed me a bite of his food every now and then, dramatically describing how “underrated” carbs were like he was some kind of Michelin critic. “This garlic bread might be the best part of my weekend,” he said, lips brushing my ear. “Not me?” I asked, pretending to pout. He laughed and kissed my cheek. “Okay, fine. Garlic bread, then you.”

“You sure know how to flatter a girl.”

“You should be. That bread’s amazing.”

We both laughed, warm and full and easy. And as the movie played on the food slowly disappeared, Ollie wrapped both arms around me and pulled the blanket over us.

The city lights sparkled just beyond the window, and in that little cocoon of warmth, it didn’t matter that the race hadn’t gone how he wanted. Because we were here just us, a tangle of limbs and lazy smiles, in a hotel room that suddenly felt like home.

© pagejodi tumblr 2025, please refrain from plagiarizing my work, translating or claiming my works as yours.

images from pinterest !

[pagejodi]

⊹₊You Always Show Up - LN4

Masterlist - Requests

Pairing: Lando Norris x model!fem!reader

Summary: After a long day in Milan, you surprise Lando by showing up at his apartment, exhausted but needing to be near him.

Warnings: Fluff, Comfort, Established Relationship

a/n: Just a little one shot I wrote with Lando being a clingy boyfriend. Enjoy -Jodi🤍

My heels click against the marble floor of Lando’s apartment lobby, a steady rhythm echoing in the quiet. The afterparty in Milan ended four hours ago. I didn’t stay not when Lando texted, “Wish you were here tonight.”

My agency wouldn’t call it a smart decision, and neither would my body. After a long, grueling show, rest was the logical answer. But I knew sleeping in Lando’s arms would be better.

I made it to his door and knock softly once. Then again, with more force. The door swings open with that familiar creak. Lando stands there, hair tousled, hoodie on, looking like he just stumbled out of bed.

He blinks, then breaks into a sleepy, toothy smile. “Y/N... you actually came! I missed you, baby.” Before I can say a word, he pulls me into a tight hug, arms winding around my waist. He peppers soft, hurried kisses on my cheeks, my jaw, and lips. like he’s making sure I’m real.

“You actually came,” he murmurs again, his breath warm against my skin. “I didn’t think you would.” I smile against his mouth. “I almost didn’t.” He leans back to look at me properly, hands still resting on my waist. “Why?”

“I was exhausted. My team advised me not too. The show ran late, my flight was delayed… and yet I still managed to get here.” I shrug, a little breathless. “I guess I’m either crazy about you, or just really sleep-deprived.”

He smirks. Looking me up and down.“Maybe you should stay the night. It’s what ten, fifteen minute drive to your place? I wouldn’t want you driving tired.”

I roll my eyes. “Baby, you don’t have to convince me to stay.”

His smirk deepens, that cheeky glint in his eyes softening into something tender. He leans in again, pressing his forehead to mine.

“Good. Because I wasn’t planning on letting you go.” He says as he pulls me toward the living room, arms snug around my waist. The city hushes behind the sheer curtains. The low hum of the heater fills the stillness in the room.

I curl up under a thin blanket, limbs tangled. His arm wraps around my waist, chin tucked into my shoulder. He groans softly, half-asleep, pulling me closer like even in dreams, he needs me near. I smile into the darkness, fingers brushing his. Exhaustion tugs at my limbs, but in his arms, it’s softer. Safer.

"You're gonna suffocate me, you know." Voice groggy, muffled against my shoulder "Worth it." Smiling as my fingers brushing over his knuckles "You always say that." Pulling me closer, pressing a soft kiss to my shoulder. “Cause it’s always true.” Silence settles in the room not uncomfortable, but warm and gentle. The clock ticks somewhere in the dark, but neither of us care.

Lando’s grip loosens as he murmurs, “Honey, you okay?” I hum in response, too tired for words, but he knows what that means.

“Lando, baby... let’s sleep in your bed. You’ve got a race tomorrow,” I whisper, starting to sit up. He looks up at me, hood still over his head, blinking slowly, like he’s fighting sleep. He groans in protest, eyes heavy under the hood, blinking slow like he’s already halfway asleep. “But I’m warm and I still want to talk to you.” He mumbles, voice low and thick with sleep. “You’re not even talking, love you’re falling asleep.” I said with a soft smile. “Come on I don’t want you passing out on the track tomorrow.”

He huffs out a sleepy laugh, fingers tangling in my hair. “And I don’t want you to wake up sore and grumpy again,” I added, gently brushing his curls back and tugging the hood off. “Not exactly race ready behavior.”

He scrunches his nose he knows I’m right. With a dramatic sigh, he sits up, resting his head on my shoulder, his breath soft against my skin.“You’re gonna fall asleep sitting up,” I murmur, slipping an arm around him. “I’m not,” he lies, yawning.

I press a kiss to his hair. “Come on, love.” He groans but lets me pull him to his feet. His hand stays in mine as we make our way down the hall, quiet footsteps in the dim light, the city casting slivers of light across the hardwood.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

In the bedroom, Lando collapses face-first onto the mattress with a groan. I laugh softly. “Real graceful, Lan.” He rolls onto his back, arms already outstretched. Yawning loudly as he mumbles to himself in a dramatic and drowsy way.

Stepping closer to him lifting his arms giving me a confused look in response. I answer with “I’m getting your hoodie off. You’ll thank me when you’re not sweating through it at 4 a.m.”

I peel the hoodie up and over his head carefully. His curls spring free in every direction. I smooth them down with my fingers, lingering for a moment before crossing to his closet. An old team shirt and a pair of his sweats my usual sleep uniform. When I climb into bed beside him, he pulls me in instantly, like a magnet. My bodies fit without thinking, like the kind of comfort that’s been earned over time.

For a while, there's only breathing soft and steady and the distant hum of traffic far below. Then he whispers, barely audible: “You always show up for me.”

I blink, surprised by the quiet weight in his voice. “Of course I do.”

“No, but even when it’s hard. When you’re tired. You come anyway.” My heart aches, warm and full. I press my forehead to his chest. “You’re important to me, Lando. I don’t show up because it’s easy. I show up because I want to.”

He’s quiet for a long beat. His fingers trail slow, lazy lines along your spine. “Promise me you’ll always tell me when it’s too much,” he murmurs. “I don’t want to be the reason you burn out.”

My chest tightens at the softness in his voice like he’s afraid of breaking something fragile. “I promise,” I whisper, sealing it with a kiss to his chest, right over his heart.

This time, when my eyes close, there's no more resistance. Only warmth. Only peace.

© pagejodi tumblr 2025, please refrain from plagiarizing my work, translating or claiming my works as yours.

images from pinterest !

[pagejodi]

⋆˚✿˖° ̊Breaking Point-AL50

Masterlist - Part 1

Pairing: Arthur Leclerc X fem!reader

Summary: A fake relationship meant to fix a PR disaster spirals out of control when one stolen kiss makes it all feel real

Warnings: Implied Intimacy, Fake Relationship, Swearing, Alcohol Use, Use of yn

a/n: The second installment of the Breaking Point series is now out! If you haven’t read part 1 please read it. Enjoy and thank you for the support -Jodi🤍

I didn’t stop moving until I was inside my apartment. The door clicked shut behind me, and I pressed my back to it, chest rising and falling like I’d just run a marathon. My lips still tingled, an echo of something that wasn’t supposed to happen. I stood there for a solid five minutes trying to make sense of what I’d just done. Then I bee lined it straight to the kitchen, opened the dishwasher, and pulled out the nearest glass I could find. I didn’t even bother to check if it was clean. Just grabbed the bottle of wine that had been collecting dust above the fridge, and poured. I took a long sip, the kind that wasn’t for taste but for escape.

The wine was cheap. Too dry. Bitter. But it was better than thinking. I set the glass down, then picked it back up. “You weren’t supposed to kiss him,” I muttered to myself. Trying to come up with solutions as to why it happened. The one I landed on was just two people in a quiet room, surrounded by dim lighting, and a little too tired. But the worst part of this all was he gave me the choice to back out and I didn’t want to.

Something about the warm comforting feeling he gave off. The way he’d looked at me like he wasn’t seeing the girl he used to tease, or the fake girlfriend he’d hired. Just…me.

“This is exactly how it gets messy,” I said. I finished the glass in one gulp and pouring myself another.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The door closed shut with shame behind her, but I didn’t move. Not for a long time. I stayed right there on the couch, staring at the space she’d just vacated like it might tell me what the fuck I’d just done. No cameras. No audience. Just her and me and that kiss.

The plan was clean, simple: appearances, smiles, a few convincing Instagram posts, then we part ways and forget it ever happened.

But the second she looked at me like that with her guard down, and the weight of the night hanging in her eyes I cracked. This is exactly what I was worried about.

I got up going into autopilot. The place felt too quiet now. Too still. I filled a glass of water I didn’t even want, drank half, and set it down with a little more force than necessary. I leaned against the counter and stared out the window. Monaco glittered in the dark, the city glowing. I’d lived here my whole life, but it never really felt like mine. Not the way it did for Charles. He belonged here polished, perfect, press ready. Me? I was the reckless one. The Leclerc with something to prove.

And the whole reason I got into this mess was supposed to be for damage control. A distraction from the headlines that always show my losses and not my wins.

For the first time in a long time I wasn’t sure what was real and what I just wanted to be real. I pushed away from the counter and grabbed my phone. I looked at my phone again. Still no message. Not that I expected one. And I wasn’t going to be the one to reach out. Not yet. But I knew one thing for sure.

This was no longer just pretend.

And I wasn’t ready to let her go.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The next morning I woke to what could only be described as my skull felt two sizes too small for my brain. My mouth was dry. My eyes were glued shut, mascara smudged to hell. And my stomach rolled with the kind of regret that only cheap wine and emotional distress could brew. I groaned and buried my face into the pillow.

The light filtering through the blinds stabbing my eyes like tiny knives, and I winced, dragging the covers over my head like that might erase the memory of last night.

Spoiler: it didn’t.

I kissed Arthur Leclerc. Nope still very much real.

I sat up slowly, regretting every movement I made. My head pounded behind my eyes, and my body felt like it had been dragged behind a moving car. My dress was still crumpled on the floor, my heels by the front door, and the two empty wine bottle sat mocking me on the kitchen counter.

Marching myself to the bathroom, wincing at my reflection. Smudged makeup, pillow creased cheek, hair doing things I couldn’t explain. I jumped in the shower trying shake off the memory of Arthur’s fingertips brushing my cheek. His voice, soft and unsure. “You can tell me to stop.’” It only made it worse.

“What the hell were you thinking?” I looked in the mirror and yelled back to myself. I brushed my teeth with slow, deliberate motions. Then dragged myself to the kitchen and poured a glass of water like it was a holy ritual. My phone blinked on the counter, three unread messages. and who were they from no one just my phone telling me I need to update it. I didn’t know if that made me relieved or disappointed. Or both?

We kissed. We crossed a line.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

By noon my hangover subsided and I was watching whatever cheesy movie was on. My phone buzzed I glanced down at it and saw his name. “Are you ok?” Three words not some dumb joke just a quiet check-in. I stared at the message for one minute then another. Before settling on saying “I’ve been better. Cheap wine was a choice.” “Wait you were drinking last night?”. Fuck, why did I tell him that. I dragged a hand down my face.”Yeah. After I left. Just me and a bottle of cheap red and a lot of denial.” There was another long pause. The typing bubble appeared, then vanished. Then came back. “You didn’t need to do that. I’m coming over rn we need to talk”

I saw the text. I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.

The moment I read his text my chest got tight in that familiar, awful way that said you care too much and you’re scared to death of it. I set the phone face down on the coffee table like it was something that could burn me if I held it too long.

Twenty minutes later there was a knock at the door. Opening the door. He stood there, hoodie over a t-shirt, hands shoved in his pockets, looking like he’d been pacing the whole way over. “You didn’t answer,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know what to say,” I admitted.

Arthur walked in without another word. He didn’t sit. Just stood in the middle of my living room, looking around like it was suddenly unfamiliar. Like we weren’t just here a week ago, bickering over fake couple photos and rehearsed lines. He turned to face me. “You drank alone last night. After we kissed.”

“I didn’t know what else to do,” I said again, softer this time.

“You could’ve called me.”

“You kissed me,” I said. “Sober. On purpose. I panicked. Kill me.”

Arthur ran a hand through his hair, frustration and something else something stronger tightening his shoulders “I kissed you because I wanted to. Because I thought you did too.”

“I did!” The words came out too loud, too fast. “I did want to. That’s the problem, Arthur.”

Arthur froze. “You did want to,” he echoed, voice laced with frustration. “Then why are we acting like it was a mistake?”

“Because it was,” I said, arms crossed tightly over my chest, trying to shield myself from the weight of it all. “Not the kiss. Just... everything around it. The timing. The reasons. Us.”

You could see his jaw tightening. “There is no ‘us.’ That was the whole point, remember? Fake girlfriend. Fake relationship. Clean slate.” He was angry now, but not at me. Not really. I could tell by the way his fingers flexed at his sides, by the way he wasn’t meeting my eyes.

Taking a step closer, my voice steadier than I felt. “Exactly. So why the fuck did it feel so damn real?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he closed the space between us. His eyes found mine, sharp and searching. “Because maybe it is.”

My breath caught.

“No cameras,” he continued. “No fans, no sponsors, no pressure. Just you and me in this shitty, quiet room, and it still felt like something.”

I hated how much I agreed with him. I couldn’t let myself fall for him not after building these wall. “I don’t know how to go about this?” I admitted, my voice cracking. “Not with you. Not when I still don’t know if this is just guilt or loneliness or you trying to fix a mess you started.”

Arthur’s shoulders dropped, like the fight had drained out of him. “I’m not trying to fix anything,” he said. “I’m just trying not to lose the first real thing I’ve felt in a long time.”

The room went quiet again. Thick with unsaid thoughts now spoken.

He looked at me not like the boy who used to push me off the monkey bars, not like the man who pulled me into the spotlight for damage control, but like someone who saw me. Really saw me.

“I know I don’t deserve a second chance,” he said gathering my hands and bringing them to his chest. “But I’d rather try and screw it up than pretend this doesn’t mean anything to me.” He look me in the eyes raw and glossy.

Wrapping my arms around his. “I’m not promising anything,” I whispered into his neck

“I’m not asking for a promise,” he said. “Just… don’t walk away. Not yet.”

I don’t know if I could. Not now maybe never.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

All I could think about was holding her close, my hand moving slowly up and down her back like it might calm her or me. I pull away just enough to look in her eyes, to see if she felt it too. Cupping her cheek, gentle and certain, and bring her into another kiss. This time it was long, unhurried, the kind that said everything I didn’t know how to put into words.

Her breath hitched softly against my lips, and I felt her fingers thread into my hair, pulling me closer like she didn’t want to let go either. The world outside that room the expectations, the lies, the charade faded until there was nothing left but us. Every touch, every slow drag of my hand down her back, was a promise and a question all at once. Was this just a moment stolen from the chaos, or something real breaking through the cracks? I pulled back just enough to catch her gaze, searching for an answer in the quiet desperation swirling there. Her eyes were shining, vulnerable and fierce all at once.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

I woke up to the sound of my phone, buzzing relentlessly on the nightstand. My head was still foggy trying to wake up. I groaned and reached for my phone squinting at the barrage of notifications, texts, missed calls, and then the news alerts.

BREAKING: Arthur Leclerc and Y/N Y/L/N Monaco’s New Power Couple?
Followed by others like: “Is This the Real Deal or Just Another PR Stunt?”

Every article was the same photos from the gala, laughing together under golden lights, snapshots from our little café date, even grainy old class photos someone had dug up. Somehow, the line we’d drawn between fake and real had been blurred, twisted, and plastered across the internet for everyone to dissect.

I scrolled through social media. Fans, reporters, paparazzi, everyone was speculating. Posting clips, theories, memes. Calling us the hottest new couple.

To the world, we were in love. And maybe so were we

Then I felt it. An arm wrapping around my waist, warm and familiar. I turned slowly, heart stuttering at the sight beside me.

Arthur Leclerc.

Still half-asleep, impossibly real. Lying next to me like he belonged there.

© pagejodi tumblr 2025, please refrain from plagiarizing my work, translating or claiming my works as yours.

images from pinterest !

@livelaughleclerc

[pagejodi]

⋆. 𐙚 ̊Breaking Point-AL50

Masterlist - Part 2

Pairing: Arthur Leclerc X fem!reader

Summary: Years after he bullied her, Arthur Leclerc asks her to be his fake girlfriend to fix his image. She agrees, but what happens when real emotions start to blossom.

Warnings: this is a series, childhood bullying, fake relationship , slightly angsty.

a/n: This is my first fic so please be kind, if you have any advice on how I can improve please don’t hesitate to message me, but REMEMBER TO BE KIND please. -Jodi🤍

Knowing the Leclerc’s was inevitable when you lived in Monaco, especially went you went to school with them, and the same age as the youngest. Arthur Leclerc. All the kids in Monaco seemed to get along with him except me.

It started back in primary school. He and his little band of tormentors made it their mission to make my friends' and my life hell. Dropping ice cubes down our shirts, pushing us off the slide, chasing us around the playground like it was a sport they never let up. It went on for years. Then secondary school hit, and it all just... stopped. Arthur got too busy with racing, and girls. Suddenly, I wasn’t worth the effort.

Things between us stayed quiet for a while. We drifted. Grew up. Became strangers who shared a history but no longer shared glances. Arthur dove headfirst into racing, and I dove headfirst into pretending he didn’t exist. It worked, mostly. We graduated. We moved on. But somehow, we kept orbiting each other, mutual friends, parties, the occasional eye-roll across the room, and the rare sharp exchange of words that made it feel like we were still those kids on the playground.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Then one evening, everything changed.

Out of nowhere, Arthur Leclerc showed up at my door. "Before you slam the door in my face," he said, casually leaning against the doorframe like this was just another normal Tuesday evening, "hear me out. I need a fake girlfriend." Eight words. Eight ridiculous, unbelievable, infuriating words.

So, as one would naturally do, I slammed the door in his face. He knocked again, and again. By the fifth time, I don’t know what gave out first my curiosity or my patience. But I opened the door. And just like that, I let Arthur Leclerc back into my life.

He looked smug, like he’d known I’d give in.
"That didn’t take long," he said, letting himself into the kitchen and turning to face me with his arms crossed, leaning against the counter. Still so sure of himself. Still that same irritating glint in his eye the one that used to flash right before he pushed me into a bush or dumped glitter in my hair during art class. "You’re not seriously entertaining this idea, are you?" I asked, arms crossed mirroring him. "No. I’m seriously begging you to say yes." His tone dropped the cockiness just a bit, and that’s what made me pause. Not the words, but the way he said them quiet, careful, like it actually mattered.

"Why me?"

“My team says I need to clean up my image before I lose sponsors. Being single and going to clubs isn't the best look. They thought you’d be the best option you’re loved by the community, and we have history.” He paused, closing his eyes slowly. “And… well, you won’t fall in love with me.”

I laughed sharp and instant.
“That’s the first accurate thing you’ve said all night.”
I stared at him, searching for the real reason. He looked tired. Stressed in a way I wasn’t used to seeing. Not race-day nerves. Something heavier.

“First, we’ll set rules. Make it public. Post the usual couple stuff, do a few appearances. A few months, tops. Then we break up. Clean and easy,” he said, too carefree. “Fine. As long as it’s just a few months.”
That annoying smile crept back onto his face.
“That’s all I needed to hear.”

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Our first public appearance together felt different for each of us. A small café. Warm lights. Too many eyes. I sat across from him, the silence stretching long between sips of coffee. Lipstick stained my cup, he noticed but didn’t comment. He leaned back in his chair, casual, like this was just another Friday. I weren’t sure if he was playing a role or if he really was that unfazed.

Tapping my nails against the glass.
“So…do we hold hands or something?” I asked, half-joking, half-dreading the answer. Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to hold hands?”
“No.”
“Then don’t.” He said it with a grin that almost made me forget how much I used to despise him.

When the bill came, he reached for it without a word. “I can pay for my half,” I said, already digging through my bag. Arthur didn’t even look over at me. “Fake boyfriends pay. It’s part of the fantasy.” I rolled my eyes but let him and thanked him.

Once we stepped outside, the air was cooler than I expected, the wind carrying the salty air of the sea. I cursed your self out for not checking the weather. Wrapping my jacket around myself. Arthur noticed. “Cold?” he asked. “I’m fine.”

But before I could finish speaking he was already shrugging off his jacket, draping it around my shoulders before I could argue. It was warm. It smelled like cedar and something expensive. I hesitated, and muttered a “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, walking a little too close as we both headed toward the street.

A few passersby glanced at us recognizing him, snapping a quick photo, whispering.

I felt his hand brush mine. Not quite an accident. Not quite on purpose. “Do we—” I started, gesturing between our hands. Arthur smirked. “Oh now you want to hold hands?” I sighed. “Will you just commit to the bit.” He laced his fingers through mine like it was nothing. Like he hadn’t spent half my childhood pulling my pigtails and pushing me off swing sets. Like this wasn’t all fake. I looked down at our joined hands and felt something twist in my chest.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Arthur had organized a full makeup and styling team for our second appearance together this time, at the Monte Carlo Charity Gala.

Nervous didn’t even begin to cover it. My palms were clammy, my stomach tight. I’d never been to an event like this before red carpet, flashing cameras, people who didn’t blink twice at dropping ten grand on a bottle of wine. It was his world, not mine.

We weren’t going alone either. We were supposed to arrive with Arthur’s older brother, Charles, and his girlfriend, Alexandra. Just the idea of being around them made the whole thing feel even more surreal. Charles was Monaco’s golden boy charming, polished, and entirely too observant.

When Arthur finally arrived, something in me shifted. He stepped through the door dressed in a tailored black suit, calm as ever, his eyes shimmering in the light. That irritating glint from our childhood was still there, but now it was something more relaxed. Focused. And just like that, I felt my shoulders relax. My spine straightened. I rolled my shoulders back, took a slow breath. If he could do this so could I.

Arthur offered his arm without a word, and I took it, my hand resting lightly on the smooth fabric of his sleeve. He gave me a sideways glance half amusement, half approval and led me out to the waiting car.

Charles and Alexandra were already inside when we slid into the back seat of the silver ferrari. Charles greeted me with that easy, polished smile he was known for. He looked very confident, relaxed, and in control in his tuxedo. “Nice to finally meet you properly,” he said, offering a hand. “Arthur’s told us well, not much, honestly.”

Arthur gave his brother a warning look, but I shook his hand anyway. “I guess that’s better than not telling us anything about you.” Alexandra leaned forward with a soft laugh. “You look stunning, by the way. The dress is perfect on you.”

“Thank you,” I said, trying not to squirm under the attention. Compliments were hard enough to accept from friends, but coming from the girlfriend of one of the most famous men in Monaco made it worse. Arthur stayed quiet beside me, but I could feel the warmth of his hand resting near mine, almost touching but not.

As the car pulled up to the grand entrance of the Hôtel de Paris, the butterflies returned in full force. Cameras flashed before the doors even opened. “You ready?” Arthur asked under his breath, his lips close to my ear. “No,” I admitted. He smirked. “Too bad.” The door opened, and the night swallowed us whole.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Once we stepped out of the car, it felt like all my senses were dialed up to a hundred. The air was hot and dense, and the harsh lights made it hard to focus. The only thing keeping me grounded was Arthur his hand resting gently on my waist. He looked at me, checking if I was okay. I gave a small nod, and he smiled, with those stupid dimples showing.

He guided me up the stairs, careful with where he placed his hands, never assuming. The moment I stepped onto the marble floor, the feeling hit me full force. I didn’t belong here. Royals, celebrities, people who lived in a world of old money and older secrets surrounded us. It would be fine, I told myself, as long as I stayed close to Arthur.

We had our own table reserved for the Leclerc’s. I sat down, smoothing out any creases in my dress. Alexandra was next to me. She was warm, her voice gentle, but then she said, “I think you’re the first girl Arthur has ever brought to one of these events before.” I tried not to flinch. I turned the words over in my head, unsure whether they were meant as a compliment or something else. Before I could decide, Charles leaned in and asked us, “Anyone want a drink?”

I said yes to a glass of champagne even though my stomach was still a knot. Alexandra asked a few more polite questions like how old I was, how Arthur and I met but her tone had a slight interrogating effect but she was still very polite and warm. Charles, on the other hand, was effortlessly charming. Too charming. Every time I glanced at Arthur, he was deep in conversation with someone near the table. I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to rescue me, or if I was supposed to rescue myself.

I accepted the champagne Charles offered, more for something to do with my hands than anything else. Alexandra had turned her attention elsewhere, thankfully, but her words lingered. Arthur’s never brought any girls before. What did that even mean? What had she meant by one of these events? I was still chewing on it when Arthur leaned close, his breath warm against my temple.

“Want to get some air?” he asked quietly, already halfway out of his seat. I nodded he grabbed my hand lacing our fingers together. Weaving through the crowd to one of the side doors. The sound of conversation and clinking glass faded as we stepped onto the balcony. The cool night air hit me like a train clean, sharp, honest.

Below us, the sea stretched out in glittering blackness, distant lights bobbing like ghosts on the water. The golden glow from the ballroom spilled onto the balcony floor, pooling around our feet. “This is…a lot” I admitted. Arthur let out a breath, almost a laugh. “Yeah.”

His back leaned against the railing, hands tucked into the pockets of his suit pants. The calm was still there in his posture, but now it felt less like untouchable confidence and more like something he’d had to build, brick by brick. “You’re doing fine,” he said after a beat. I looked over at him. “You think?” He gave me that annoying half-smile. “I know.”

I shifted closer to him, just enough that our shoulders brushed. “She said something. Alexandra.” He glanced at me sideways. “What did she say?” “That you’ve never brought girls before and I’m the first.” Arthur’s mouth tightened, just barely. “That’s cause it’s the truth your the first girl I have taken to this event.” That should have comforted me. Maybe it even did. But it also raised more questions than it answered. “And why is that?” I asked, not quite looking at him.

He was quiet for a long moment before saying “Your beautiful, and nice, your well respected by the community. Most girl get far too drunk and are rude to the waiters, but not you.”

I turned to face him, but before I could say anything, the door behind us creaked open. It was one on the server tell us to come back inside because the speech was about to start.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The door shut behind us with a soft click, sealing out the noise, the flashes, the fake smiles and whispered judgments. Silence settled over Arthur’s apartment like a sigh of relief. I kicked off my heels first, my feet had gone numb hours ago. Leaned against the wall, exhaling. “Well,” I said, “that wasn’t completely horrifying.” Arthur tossed his jacket over the back of a chair, loosening his tie as he walked toward the kitchen. “You only tripped once. I’m impressed.” I narrowed my eyes. “I didn’t trip. I just…got distracted.” He smirked with that stupid dimple and pulled two glasses from a cabinet. “Want something?”

“Just water,” I said, voice dry from smiling too much. He handed me a glass and leaned on the counter, watching me over the rim of his own glass. I avoided his eyes. I wasn’t sure what I was afraid of seeing in them. “You did good today,” he said finally, quieter this time. “They loved you.”

“Because I kept my mouth shut and played the part.”He tilted his head slightly, studying me. “That’s not why.” I didn’t answer. Instead, I moved to the couch and sat, curling my feet beneath me, my dress making it almost impossible. My heart hadn’t stopped pounding since the moment the cameras turned our way, since his hand slipped to the small of my back and stayed there like it belonged.

He joined me a moment later, sitting just close enough to notice. Not close enough to touch. “You were nervous,” he said. It wasn’t a question “Terrified,” I admitted. “I thought I was going to throw up in front of half of Monaco.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Because you didn’t,” I said, meeting his eyes now. “You walked in like it meant nothing. Like this was just another day.” He gave a quiet, almost bitter laugh. “It’s never just another day. It just has to look like it is.” Something in his voice made me pause. Tired. Strained. Like the mask had slipped just enough to let something real peek through.

“You hate it,” I said before I could stop myself. “All of it.” He didn’t answer right away. “Sometimes. Yeah.”. The quiet stretched. “I don’t know how much longer I can fake this,” he said suddenly. I looked over at him, brow furrowing. “Us?”

He shook his head. “No. This.” he gestured vaguely around us and his apartment. The pretending. The eyes. “Tonight. The way people looked at us like we were a headline waiting to happen.” Arthur leaned back, exhaling. “You know what the worst part is?”

“What?”

“That for a second… I forgot it was fake.” His voice was soft. Almost too soft. I didn’t know what to say to that. So I said nothing. We sat in the silence, the distance between us shrinking by the second. And for the first time, I wasn’t entirely sure where the pretending ended and the truth began.

Arthur didn’t look away. His eyes stayed on mine, steady and unreadable, like he was searching for permission, maybe. Or courage? The air between us started to tighten. I should have said something. Made a joke. Stood up. Created space. But instead, I sat there frozen, caught in the weight of everything we weren’t supposed to feel. And then he leaned in. Slow. Careful. Giving me every chance to pull away. I didn’t.

His hand came up, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear, his fingertips grazing my cheek with that infuriating gentleness. “This doesn’t have to be part of the arrangement,” he said quietly. “You can tell me to stop.” I should’ve told him to. Every logical part of me screamed that this was a line we weren’t meant to cross. But the part of me that remembered every look, every near touch, every word he’d said tonight in that low, careful tone, stayed silent.

I didn’t stop him. His lips touched mine soft, assertive, like he still wasn’t sure it was real. It wasn’t a storm, not at first. It was a question. A maybe. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against mine. Neither of us said anything.

That made me more anxious more than the kiss. Because silence meant there were thoughts we weren’t ready to be said out loud. Feelings that didn’t belong in the contract.

A line we had officially crossed. “I should go,” I whispered, the words catching on my breath. Arthur didn’t move. “You don’t have to.” Before I could process his words I was on my feet. I needed space to think to breathe. “Goodnight, Arthur,” I said, voice steadier than I felt. He stayed on the couch, watching me go. And I could feel his eyes on me even after I closed the door behind me.

© pagejodi tumblr 2025, please refrain from plagiarizing my work, translating or claiming my works as yours.

images from pinterest !

[pagejodi]

𐙚⋆° Recommendations

✧ Lando Norris

- You’re Dating Him?! By @landoughnut

- Private not secret By @sharlsworld

- You’re My Baby Too By @ccsainzleclerc5516

- Through the lens By @inkandapex

- Watch me party on you By @lvrclerc

- Daddy’s here By @wondergirlsthings

- practice makes perfect By @haniette

- Caught in 4K By @wondergirlsthings

- No I'm not in love By @norristrii

✧ Oscar Piastri

- Opposites Attract By @sharlsworld

- 2 Hands By @tsunomenom

✧ Franco Colapinto

- Nepo Boyfriend By @harrysfolklore

- PR Nightmare By @landoughnut

- MILF By @landoughnut

✧ Arthur Leclerc

- The Bouquet By @lucy-literates

✧ Oliver Bearman

- Teenage Dream By @eloriis

- i guess that's the best i can do By @pastryfication

✧ Kimi Antonelli

- Little sister are unknowingly great match makers

By @mywritersmind

- Bad for both By @mywritersmind

[pagejodi]

₊˚⊹ᰔ Masterlist

Lando Norris #4

⟡ You Always Show Up

Summary: After a long day, you show up at Lando’s door, pulled by a quiet need. He welcomes you like a dream half-remembered.

⟡ …More coming soon

Oscar Piastri #81

⟡

⟡ …More coming soon

Franco Colapinto #43

⟡

⟡ …More coming soon

Arthur Leclerc #50

⟡Breaking Point - part 2

Summary: Years after he bullied her, Arthur Leclerc asks her to be his fake girlfriend to fix his image. She agrees, but a kiss soon makes it hard to tell what’s real and what’s not.

⟡ …More coming soon

Oliver Bearman #87

⟡ Confort zone

Summary: After a tough race in Imola, Ollie finds comfort in quiet moments, and the warmth of being wrapped up with you.

⟡ …More coming soon

Kimi Antonelli #12

⟡

⟡ …More coming soon

© pagejodi tumblr 2025, please refrain from plagiarizing my work, translating or claiming my works as yours.

[pagejodi]

⋆. ˚Rules & Guidelines

Requesting

✧ I don’t write smut or any dark themes(1ncest, rpe/noncon, ped0philia, etc.) If choosen not to compile with such guidelines user will be blocked as I don’t feel comfortable writing such themes.

✧ I write smau’s , x reader, and one-shots

✧ RPF account

✧ I need something to work with so please be descriptive on what you want me to write.

✧ This isn't exclusively an 18+ blog, but minors should proceed with caution as most my story’s are closed door romance. I kindly ask that you respect these guidelines.

⟡ I have a life outside of just writing (surprise, surprise, I know…). With that being said, my releasing schedule will not always be the same. So, all I ask of you is to be kind and understanding.

Before You Follow

⟡ Please note that I am a uni student so fics might take a while to get out. Slow writing. The story’s I write are about real people, so please keep in mind that this is just my characterization of those people! And does not reflect them in reality in the slightest.

Do Not Interact

⟡ This blog doesn’t stand for bullying, racism, transphobia, homophobia, violence, trump supporters, zionists, politically right-wing. You will be blocked!

© pagejodi tumblr 2025, please refrain from plagiarizing my work, translating, or claiming my works as yours

[pagejodi]

˖ ֹ੭୧ Who I write for

Lando Norris

Oscar Piastri

Franco Colapinto

Arthur Leclerc

Oliver Bearman

Kimi Antonelli

All images are from Pinterest. I don’t own any of these pictures

[pagejodi]

ꫂ ၴႅၴWelcome˚˖𓍢🦢✧˚.⋆

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ Jodi — 19. she/her. infj. bi. aquarius. Formal 1. Motogp. PTV. Tate McRae. BTS. dyslexic. Latina. Hass supporter

Requests: Request are welcomed as of now & my inbox is open for any thoughts, advice, etc

🤍 Masterlist

🤍 Who I write for

🤍 Rules & Guidelines

🤍 Rec’s

© pagejodi tumblr 2025, please refrain from plagiarizing my work, translating or claiming my works as yours.

images from pinterest !