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sunrizef1 · 2 months

Text

Milk and Sugar

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Not edited, cursing maybe, the ex gf isn’t anyone specific don’t @ me

Summary: Max is tired of his persistent ex girlfriend and friends that are maybe a little too empathetic about his breakup. What better way to scare them off than getting a new girlfriend? But he doesn’t actually want a new relationship. Enter: you. The perfect (fake) new girlfriend.

Word Count: 9.6k

Authors Note: this fic was kicking my ass im gonna be so fr. It took forever and I just couldn’t write the ending for some reason. Hopefully now that this is up, I can do something else lmfao

You were just doing a favor for a friend.

Or that’s what you had told yourself when Max had originally asked you to go along with his stupid idea. You hadn’t even really wanted to agree, by the way. He had just needed your help so badly and that’s what friends are for, right?

So that’s how you’d ended up in his garage, Red Bull hat pulled tightly over your head as you watched his car sail around the track in Brazil, the season well under way.

You’d met Max a few years back. You’d moved into the apartment next to his, not even blinking as your eyes scanned over the future world champion, too focused on your dog trying his best to distract you from the heavy box in your hands.

“Apollo! Stop!” You sighed at the dog as he jumped at your legs, trying his hardest to knock the box full of dog food and treats out of your arms. The dog, not knowing English, didn’t listen, of course, continuing his assault on your calves.

The box tilts in your grasp, coming dangerously close to falling out of your arms. But suddenly, the weight is lifted away and Apollo seems to turn his attention to whatever had relieved you from your struggle, giving you the opportunity to pull the small dog into your grasp, trying your best to calm his rowdiness down.

Once you’ve gotten the dog to calm down a significant amount, you look up to see who’d saved you from hours of cleaning loose dog food off the floor during your first day in your new apartment. You’re met with bright blue eyes staring back at you, a concerned look on the strangers face.

You’re too worried about the pretty man in front of you to even worry about Apollo as he starts to nibble lightly on your jacket.

“Are you okay?” And then he speaks for the first time and you’re captivated. Not in a love-at-first-sight way, of course. More of a this-guy-might-be-perfect kind of way.

You nod, gently separating your dogs mouth off your hoodie string, petting his, most-likely, empty head warmly, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. This little guy just really wanted that food, I guess.”

The stranger laughs, moving the box in his arms to rest against his hip, “I’m more of a cat person, anyway.”

You fake a wince, shaking your head with a frown, “Ahh, guess we can’t be friends then, mysterious stranger. Im a dog person all the way.”

He laughs again, grinning warmly, “Any way I could help you with this? Can’t imagine it’s easy moving in with a dog running around.”

Your eyes widen at his words, your hand fumbling to fish the key to your new apartment out of your pocket, “Only if you’re free! I wouldn’t want to bother my new neighbor on my first day.”

Your neighbor shakes his head, light brown hair falling down on his forehead, “It’s no big deal, I’m surprisingly free today.”

You smile, pushing the door to your apartment open, setting Apollo down as you enter. The dog immediately starts to scope out the area, bounding up and down the halls, his collar jangling loudly as he does. You hear the man enter behind you, watching as he walks over and places the box of dog food on the counter in the kitchen.

“Usually I learn a man’s name before I invite him into my apartment,” you smirk, laughing as a blush coats your neighbors face. He takes the few steps back over to close the gap between you, sticking out a calloused hand toward you.

“I’m Max.”

You smile, repeating his name before reciting your own, clasping your hand in his much rougher one, tilting your head up at him as you shake, letting go after a few moments.

“It’s nice to meet you max,” you say, smiling as you see Max’s face light up happily, “How inclined would you be to helping me get the rest of my boxes?”

Max laughs as he sees the sweet grin on your face, shaking his head as he moves toward the door, “I’d love to help, y/n. Can’t have my new favorite neighbor moving in alone, can I?”

Your face splits into a grin as you follow him toward the exit, turning to make sure Apollo was comfortably inside the apartment so he wouldn’t try and run away before closing the door behind you.

Max did help you that day, the moving in process going substantially quicker with the help of the athlete. He even invited you over to his place for dinner, explaining that it’d be too much of a hassle for you to make dinner after moving in all day. You didn’t bring up the fact he’d been moving all day as well, simply following him next door instead.

That had been three years ago and you’d been friends ever since. It was a casual friendship, more moved by the proximity than anything else.

He’d had to explain f1 to you, you being completely unfamiliar with the sport despite having moved to Monaco, probably the place with the most connection to it. Now, you’d casually watch his races as you worked or ate dinner, not entirely sure what was going on but supporting your friend anyway.

He’d also eventually asked you to watch his cats for him, Jimmy and Sassy being surprisingly friendly with your puppy. Max had been scared about introducing them, prefacing with many statements about how much the cats hated dogs and that it really wouldnt be a problem if you couldn’t watch them if they hated each other.

All that talk went out the window when the first thing the pets did when they met each other was take a nap.

It was January when it happened. You had been sitting calmly in your apartment, watching Bridgerton and eating pasta, your work computer abandoned to the side of the couch. You had a blanket pulled over your lap, a hot mug of tea sitting on the coffee table in front of you. Rare snow fell softly outside your window, albeit not very much snow but snow nonetheless.

You were very content.

This, of course, all came crashing down when you heard the sound of your apartment door banging open, heavy footsteps signaling the arrival of your neighbor. You’d given him a key for emergencies, although you couldn’t possibly imagine what could warrant an emergency at this time.

You roll your eyes as you hear him approach, setting your pasta down on the table and grabbing the remote to pause your show, turning as Max throws himself down on the couch next to you.

“Hello, Max. Can I help you?” You sigh, trying to force a smile onto your face. Max seems to catch your discontent and grimaces, wincing away slightly.

“Bad time?”

You let out a breath, not able to stay mad at the Dutch man for very long, “Maybe a little, but it’s fine, really. Did you need something?”

Max nods, sitting up straighter, “I may or may not have a formal request. Neighbor to neighbor.”

You furrow your eyebrows at his response, noting his slightly nervous behavior, “Okay?”

He takes a deep breath before speaking, his eyes trailing over toward where your tv was currently paused, “You know how I just went through that breakup, right?”

You hum, all too familiar with the aforementioned breakup, having had Max barge into your apartment for comfort food and movie marathons more than a few nights in the wake of his, now ex, girlfriends departure.

“Well,” Max starts and you can sense the hesitation in his tone but considering he had interrupted your night, you opted to let him flounder, “It’s been weird on the grid since then.”

“Okay,” you hum, eyes glancing over his face and catching the way he grimaces.

“Ever since the break-up, all the guys have been looking at me like I’m a child, you know? Like I might fall apart any second. Even though I’m completely fine!”

You stare, knowing more than anyone else, that he wasn’t very fine for a while, although he’d miraculously recovered over the past few months. You also stared in hopes he’d soon get to the point of the conversation.

“They also keep trying to set me up with their friends as if I need a rebound when I would really rather stay single,” Max groans, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. Your furrow your eyebrows, wondering where this could be going.

Max glances up, eyes avoiding yours at all costs, “I was wondering if you could, maybe..”

Max trails off, wincing slightly. You stare straight ahead at him blankly, waiting for him to finish his request. He does eventually mumble something under his breath and you lean forward, eyebrows raised.

“Sorry?”

Max grumbles, annoyed and you roll your eyes at the attitude of the man disrupting your own night.

“Could you pretend to be my girlfriend for a while?” Max rushes out, hands carding through his hair nervously, “Just long enough for the guys to leave me alone, you don’t even have to do anything, maybe just come to Brazil and Monaco-“

Max continues to ramble on for a few seconds, words seeming to fall out of his mouth unceremoniously before he’s cut off by you interrupting him.

“Max!” You raise your voice slightly in an attempt to talk to over him. Max freezes, looking at your face for the first time since he’s crashed through your front door, “I’ll do it.”

He stares at you blankly for a few moments, trying to process your words, “Really?”

You shrug, teeth digging into your lip as you turn your head toward the large window across the room that overlooked the darkened city of Monte Carlo, “Why not? You’re my friend. Plus I work remotely and who doesn’t want to travel around the world to all those different cities?”

Max’s face lights up at your response, his lips forming a huge grin. He rolls over into a lying position, practically star-fishing on your couch, “Thank you so much! I owe you one.”

You hum, fighting the smile on your lips as you watch him close his eyes calmly. You slip up from the couch quietly, padding over to the kitchen to grab something.

“Where are you going? Did I scare you off already?” You hear Max call as you walk away. As you walk back over, his eyes are still closed though, signaling that he didn’t really think he’d scared you off.

He does open his eyes as you set the bowl of leftover pasta and a fork on his chest before grabbing your own and sitting down, grabbing the remote to press play. He glances over as you settle into the couch and move your blanket over your lap before he sits up. You take a bite of your pasta as you continue to watch your show. Max takes a second but he eventually digs in as well, sitting up in order to grasp the bowl better.

Even after the pastas finished, you both sit back on the couch in order to finish the show. You glance over at Max, his eyes still locked onto the screen.

What had you gotten yourself into?

————

“Are you ready?”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you sit in the passengers seat of Max’s car, the hoards outside having no idea what was waiting for them inside. You slide your sunglasses onto your nose, hoping they’d hide at least a little bit of the anxiety flowing through you.

You nod, turning your head toward Max in the drivers seat, “Yeah, I’m good.”

Max hums, not entirely convinced but also aware he had no other option but to believe you considering he’s the one who’d asked you to do this. He opens his door, stepping out and sliding his own sunglasses on. You watch as he walks around the front of the car before stopping in front of your door and pulling it open. You pause for a moment but eventually step out, trying not to wince as the bright sun hits you.

You immediately step into his path, falling into stride next to him as you both walk toward the entrance. You hear the car lock behind you and watch Max pocket the keys.

The bright Miami sun beats down on your skin, causing you to wish you’d opted for a thinner shirt. Max had originally proposed for your first race to be Monaco but you had decided it was better to appear earlier than later for his sake. Plus, you’d always enjoyed Miami and were up for the idea of traveling there. You’d also originally planned to buy your own plane tickets but Max was quick to shut that one down.

As you both approached the turnstiles, Max pulls his lanyard out of his pocket. You don’t even notice as he pulls you inside the paddock, too busy trying not to notice the cameras surrounding you. Flashes come from all around you, the incessant clicks echoing through your head.

You finally do notice that Max hasn’t let go of your hand after he pulled you into the paddock. You grasp his hand a little tighter and he pulls you closer into his side as a response. When heat starts to rise to your face, you decide to blame it on the Miami sun.

As you both walk toward the Red Bull hospitality, heads turn to watch you walk by. You can feel people’s eyes trailing after you, locked on your unfamiliar form. Everything new in the paddock very quickly became a spectacle. Especially when it involved the current world champion.

You’re sure you’ll see pictures of yourself splashed all across the internet when you wake up in Max’s hotel room the next day. You’re sure your mom will send you whatever article they’ll attach your name to, no doubt hounding you for information about your new celebrity “boyfriend”.

You’d been curled up in Max’s hotel room the whole weekend, occasionally dipping out to get food with him between events. He’d wanted you to come to the track since Thursday but you weren’t entirely sure you were ready to step out as “Max Verstappens new girlfriend” until you’d woken up Sunday morning.

You’d woken up before Max, somehow. As you laid in your plush hotel room bed, you could hear Max’s soft breathing from the other bed filtering through the silence of the morning. Just outside the window, the city of Miami was waking up. At least, the early birds were.

You and Max had slept in the same room enough over the years, Max randomly crashing at your place pretty often, that when he suggested you getting a different room, you’d immediately turned him down. You were telling yourself it was just because it was nice to have the comfort of a friend but something deep down knew that that wasn’t the only reason.

You let the only sounds be his breathing and the light hum of the air on unit for a few more minutes while you woke up. You slid out of the bed as silently as possible, your feet padding quietly against the carpeted floor. You pull the door open to the balcony slowly, stepping out before closing it behind you. The sun is still pretty low in the sky but it still makes you flinch as it seeps into your eyes.

You sink into one of the two chairs out on the balcony, pulling your knees up to your chest and resting your chin on top, letting your thoughts run wild.

You watch Miami move below you, the sun slowly shining down brighter and brighter, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.

You weren’t entirely sure why you’d agreed to this idea so quickly. With every day that passed, you wished more and more that you hadn’t. Doubt seeped through you with every second you watched Max from the hotel television. He was just so good at his job and such a cool, wonderful person and athlete. How could you keep up with him? The press would be insistent and non-stop invasive. Fans would, no doubt, dogpile on you as well, both warning to know everything about you as well as rip you apart. You start to wonder if there was a single positive of this for you.

The door slides open behind you and you can hear Max moving onto the balcony beside you. You don’t glance over, only moving your gaze away from the skyline as a mug is held in front of your face. You glance down at it, spotting the coffee inside before you grasp the mug out of his hands gently. The ceramic warms your hands, the steam from the liquid splaying across your face.

“There was only those little creamer pods,” Max hums as he takes a sip of his own mug, leaning against the bannister in front of you, “Hope that’s okay.”

You chew at your lip, taking a sip of your own mug, humming lightly as your gaze locks on his back, “That’s fine, thanks.”

You’d usually take your coffee with milk and a spoonful of sugar but you’d had enough gas station or hotel room coffee that you’d be able to survive with just the creamer pods.

You watch Max’s side profile as he stares out at the city, the sun bouncing off the edges and planes of his face and perfectly lighting up his eyes. You bask in quiet that settles between you, sipping at your coffee periodically. You don’t quickly forget the kindness of his gesture. Actually, the action stays in your head for longer than it probably should, mind running wild as you think about his motives.

You dismiss it, though, not wanting to linger on something that probably meant nothing.

“You coming to the race today?” Max turns around to face you, his back leaning against the rail he’d just been looking out over.

Your eyes trace him as he turns, evaluating his early morning form. As you look at this man, your friend, you think about the coffee in your hands. You think about the times he’d dogsat Apollo despite hating dogs, the days he’d come over just to keep you company when you were homesick, when he’d attempted to cook you soup when you’d been sick despite his complete inability to cook soup, you even think back to the first day you’d met when he’d helped you move in despite having known you for all of thirty seconds.

As all those memories passed through your mind, you suddenly remember why you’d agreed to do this in the first place.

“Yeah, I am,” you reply, taking a long sip of your coffee and hiding your grin as one of his own makes its way onto his lips.

————

That had been earlier that morning and know you were sat in Red Bull, watching as Max’s car passes the finish line in second. You’d been biting your nails the whole time, worry seeping through you. You weren’t the biggest formula 1 nerd but Max had forced you to watch enough old races for you to get what was going on. You’d even started watching his races when he was gone, something that had taken you months to admit.

Because of Max’s insistence, you knew enough to grimace as the safety car came out. You were right to grimace, of course, as Lando was quick to pass your friend, taking the lead and the win. Max, for what it’s worth, didn’t seem too angry about the result. You were aware of Landos lack of wins, seeing why his winning would make everyone happy, even the losers. Not that you were too happy, you’d only ever and only ever would cheer for Max, even if Lando was deserving of a win of his own.

Max doesn’t get asked about you during interviews. At least, not directly. He gets asked how life had been and he answers with a vague answer about love and how great life has been. You know he’s talking out of his ass but you’re grinning anyway, not able to hold back you mind from thinking about a world where everything he was saying was true.

“Landos gonna have a big celebration,” Max starts as he gets back to you after the podium, walking you both back toward his room so he can change, “He’ll probably be awake for the next 72 hours.”

You smile lightly, resting a tired head against his sweaty shoulder, “Good for him, seems like he really deserves it.”

Max nods with a pleasant look on his face, “Yeah, I’m not even that mad about losing. Nothing I could’ve done really. Im just glad he got his win.”

You nod, taking a breath in order to hold back the yawn threatening to leave your mouth, “You should go to his party, I’ll just go grab some dinner and head back to get some sleep.”

You both stop as you reach his room, Max facing you as he leans back against the door to open it. You notice the deep furrow in his eyebrows as he locks eyes with you, “What are you talking about?”

You furrow your own eyebrows as a response, tilting your head to the side, “You should go celebrate with your friend? Go have fun, Max!”

He shakes his head as he enters the room, quickly gathering his things to go take a quick shower, “Why would I celebrate a loss with a coworker when I can get some quality time with a friend instead? I’d rather celebrate a win with you instead of a loss without you. Trust me, you’ll be there to see me win.”

You’re already at a loss for words at his response but your rendered speechless as Max pulls his fireproofs off, tossing the shirt to the side passively. He turns away from you and you watch his muscles ripple under his skin, your face hearing greatly. His arms flex as he reaches for something and you have to bite your lip to keep your mouth closed. Your eyes are wide as he turns to glance over his shoulder at you, “That okay?”

At the risk of sounding like an idiot if you attempt to respond with words, you simply nod, eyes moving toward the floor. You don’t notice the smirk that forms on his lips as he catches your stare.

“I’m gonna shower and then we can leave,” he calls out over his shoulder as he walks into his bathroom. Your eyes are still locked onto the floor. You hear the sound of water pattering against the floor just after the door shuts.

You take a large sip of your water bottle, trying to wet your drying throat and keep the heat in your face at bay. You feel like you might be going crazy, the image of Max’s shirtless back etched into your mind.

Jesus Christ.

————

“What do you wanna watch?” Max mumbles through a mouth full of pizza, his hand coming up to covering it as he speaks.

You shrug, “I don’t know.”

Max shrugs as well, grabbing the remote off the nightstand and passively flickering through the channels as he swallows his bite of pizza, “Come get some food.”

He gestures toward the box of pizza on the edge of his bed with the remote, glancing toward you sitting in your own bed, watching him instead of the tv. You slide off the bed, taking the few steps it takes to get to his own and gently settling on the side he wasn’t currently sitting on.

Max watches you move, humming as you grasp a piece from the pizza box before he turns his attention back to the screen. You don’t notice as he settles on a movie, too busy trying not to absolutely scarf down the food in your hand.

Your eyes do leave the slice to glance over at Max, legs outstretched with his back firmly against the headboard. He’s wearing a Red Bull hoodie, even managing to wear team merch in his own bedroom. He’s also got some old basketball shorts, a faded logo sitting on the upper thigh that, no matter how much you try, you can’t understand.

You look away when you hear the familiar sound of Lightning McQueen echoing out of the television speakers. You quickly catch sight of the Italian formula car, deducing that Max has chosen Cars 2, of all movies.

You try your best not to laugh but a giggle escapes you anyway, causing you to bury your head in your shoulder to try and hide your grin.

“What?” Max asks you and you look forward again, eyes locked onto the movie, “What’s so funny?”

Your head turns toward the driver who’s grin is now matching your own, “You chose probably the only movie on here that uses the words “Grand Prix” can’t even get away from racing in your hotel room.”

He feigns offense for a few moments before reaching forward to grab another piece of pizza and sliding down into more of a lying position, “It’s a good movie.”

You both turn to the screen for a few moments but the second Lewis Hamilton’s voice rings out in the silence, you laugh loudly, Max groaning beside you.

You quickly dissolve into giggles, trying your hardest to reign it in but when you look over and see the amused frown on Max’s face, you’re right back into it again, Max laughing in response.

You both do eventually settle down, watching the movie and eating your food together. Even after the pizza box is empty and max moves to set it on the table, you don’t move from your spot, using the reasoning that it’s just easier to see the screen from his bed.

You try not to notice the proximity between you. You’d been holding hands all day and you’d pressed several kisses to his cheeks and forehead, being near him shouldn’t bother you. But when you shift slightly closer just to get more comfortable and Max’s arm falls down over your shoulder, you freeze, keeping as still as you can.

He doesn’t move his arm through the rest of the movie. Not that you’d know, considering you drift off with about half an hour to go. But Max doesn’t notice that either, considering how he fell asleep just after.

You wake up before him again the next morning, don’t the same thing you’d done the day before and walking out to the balcony. Max does the same thing he did as well, walking out with two mugs grasped gently in his grip.

When you take the mug from him, you try not to think about the fact you’d woken up limbs tangled with his and your face pressed into his chest.

————

The São Paulo Grand Prix.

It had been 6 months of this charade with Max. That’s right, you’d managed to suffer through 6 whole months of pretending to be his girlfriend. There’s been countless headlines from various news sites, trying their best to figure out every single detail about your life and relationship with Max.

The only thing keeping your mind together was the root of the problem himself and your prolonged roommate, Max.

He was actually really lovely. Every time you suggested a different room for his sake, you’d end up right where you were the week before, in a bed across from his. You’d also kept the same morning routine every day, waking up before Max and sitting out on the balcony until he brought coffee out for both of you.

He’d eventually gotten to a point where he sat in the chair next to you as opposed to standing up and leaning against the railing. There was still little conversation, though, you both enjoying the silence of an early morning instead.

This specific morning, you were watching the city of São Paulo move along below you. Goosebumps raised slightly as the wind-chilled November air nipped at the skin on your arms. The sun hadn’t completely rose yet and the previous nights rain had left the air colder than it should’ve been. You found yourself rubbing your hands over your arms and wishing you’d worn something other than a t-shirt.

The door slides open behind you and you take the mug as it’s placed in your eye line, grateful for the heat of the mug to warm up your cold hands. You lower your face toward the mug, letting the steam warm up your wind-chilled skin. You go to take a sip but it burns at your lips when you tilt the mug, causing you to set it down on the small table in order for it to cool for a few moments.

After you set it down, something lands in your lap. You look down, holding the item up and quickly recognizing it as one of Max’s Red Bull hoodies. You glance over at him but he’s still looking out over the city below, sipping passively at his mug of black coffee.

You look back down at the item of clothing, glancing between it and the owner for a few seconds before deciding to slip it on, your cold skin winning out over any reasonable thought that would tell you not to wear it.

The hoodies too big for you and it smells like Max but you don’t really seem to mind either of those things. Especially as your skin heats as the fabric passes over it.

Once you’ve got the hoodie on, you pick up your coffee again, blowing on it slightly to cool it down. You raise the cup to your lips, letting the warm liquid flow into your mouth.

You hum at the taste, quickly noticing that it tastes different than usual. You furrow your eyebrows, taking another sip. The oh-so wonderful taste that you’d missed so dearly over the past 6 months takes over your tastebuds. The taste of real milk and sugar.

You hum pleasantly, grasping the cup tightly. You glance over toward the man who’d handed you the drink, “Is this milk and sugar?”

Max glances toward you for a split-second before he looks back over the city, taking a sip of his own coffee, “Yeah, that’s how you like it, right? You always drink it like that back home.”

You ignore the jolt in your stomach when Max refers to the Monaco apartments as a shared home. You bite your lip with an affirmative hum, “Where’d you get milk and sugar?”

“Couldn’t sleep last night, went for a walk. There’s a corner store down the block and I picked some up,” Max says it casually, like it’s not the most considerate anyone had been of you, maybe ever.

You stare at him for a few moments, trying to ignore the warm feeling in your chest as you imagine him thinking about you enough to buy coffee ingredients the way you liked them.

As you sat outside, in his hoodie, sipping on the coffee he had made and handed to you, you finally accept what you’d been trying to deny for six months, if not longer.

You were in love with Max Verstappen.

You longed for the domesticity that was so present on mornings like these. You wanted to live this life with him all the time. You didn’t just want to fall asleep beside him after a race but you wanted to be able to press your lips against his when he won instead of the light touches you’d flutter against his cheek. You wanted to wear his hoodies all the time, not just when you were cold and forgot one of your own. You wanted to stop pretending in front of his friends. You wanted the hushed whispers to be sweet nothings instead of scheming and planning.

You wanted this life with him. All the time.

“Max-” you start but you’re quickly cut off by Max as he speaks instead.

“My ex is going to be at this race,” he states and you close your mouth, deflating slightly as you look away, “Just wanted to prepare you in case we run into her. You could also, um, probably stop coming once you scare her off.”

You nod meekly, taking a sip of your coffee. What had once been your idea of a sanctuary with the silence of the morning is now too quiet, allowing your thoughts to be the only noise in your head, images of Max’s ex rolling around aimlessly.

You stand up quickly, taking rushed steps back into the room. You down the last sips of your coffee and slide it onto the table, moving hurriedly around the room to gather your things for a shower. You vaguely notice Max walking back into the room with a confused look but you don’t even look up as you rush into the bathroom, “I’m taking a shower.”

“Okay?” Max says as you close the door behind you. You don’t notice the frown on his face as he disappears from view.

You’re too busy throwing off his hoodie and turning the shower to practically scalding heat, trying your hardest to rid yourself of thoughts about a life with Max, thoughts of his ex-girlfriend or thoughts about the stupid coffee he’d handed you and how stupid you were to be reading so much into it.

For a moment there, you’d thought that Max was enjoying this as much as you were. But his words were quick to remind you that you were only there to do a favour for him. He is only there to get his friends and his ex off his back. After that, you were free to go. It even vaguely sounded like Max didn’t want you to come back around the next weekend.

Why else would he have said that? Why else would he have suggested you stop coming? Especially just after talking about his ex. It was a stark reminder that you were only a tool for him to mess with his ex. She was the one he’d loved, you were just a girl he knew.

You stay under the scalding water long enough for the mirrors to fog and your fingertips to prune. Your cuticles sting from where the hot water had made its way into the raw skin, the cuts still fresh from where you’d been anxiously picking at them.

You only pull yourself from the water when you start to sway from the heat, your head going light and an ache echoing through your skull.

————

A few hours later, you’re by Max’s side again, although there’s a slightly larger distance between you than usual.

That would change soon, no doubt, when Max spotted his ex, pulling you close to attempt to show his devotion to your fake relationship.

But for now, you're an arms-length away, hoping that pushing him away would also push away your own feelings.

Max can't grasp even an idea as to why you were acting like this. Did you really want this to be over that badly? He knew he'd mentioned the idea of your… situation ending but he didn't think you'd be this eager to get away from him.

At the first camera flash, you take a step closer to Max, knowing how even the smallest hint of discontent between you would be twisted for headlines and it would end with your concerned mother calling you fifty times to check on your relationship after seeing an article on Facebook.

So you step closer, reaching over to intertwine your hands. Max doesn't resist and you try not to read into the gentle squeeze he replies with.

Brazils nice. Or at least, you assume. You'd been too distracted to take much notice. But you do notice the fans yelling from all around. Lively crowds sway and shout in the distance, hues of blue and black and orange all represented amongst the groups.

Max leads you through the paddock, determination clear in his steps. It was most likely just his own determination not to talk to anyone, especially a certain ex-girlfriend.

You both get to Red Bull without an unwanted interaction and the second you're out of the public eye, you're dropping his hand, none the wiser to the confused look on the driver's face.

The tension's palpable in his small room. Awkward conversation flows, your words biting and curt. Neither of you wants to address the obvious undertones your words contain. One of hostility and unshared secrets. But you manage to survive until Max has to leave to get ready for the race and you follow just a few minutes later, making your way to watch said race.

The race is fine. Max wins, but you were never in doubt about that. He was starting from pole, it'd be pretty hard for him to lose. Lando finished just a few seconds behind him, having closed the gap a bit after getting past George.

As the team starts to leave to go greet Max, Christian Horner pulls you along, saying something about Max wanting you at the barrier after the race. You're sure its just so he can put on a show for his ex.

But you follow along anyway, trying not to stumble in your heels as Christian walks along a lot faster than you'd want to.

You pass through other teams and friends and guests or the drivers, waving slightly at people you’d gotten to know over the past six months. The thought of not seeing any of these people again after you and Max faked a breakup made your stomach hurt but you ignore it, trying to tell yourself it was for the better.

When Christian reaches the team, he guides you both through the crowd, smiling politely at the engineers as he slides by.

It seems you both reach the barrier just in time, as Max is parking when you come to a stop. You watch as he pulls himself out of the car, cheering a bit to the fans around as he stands atop it. When he pulls off his helmet and balaclava, you try your hardest not to smile at the pure joy on his face.

He glances over his shoulder at something you can't see before he turns and catches your eye, quickly moving in your direction. Before you can even say a word, he's set his helmet down and wrapped both his hands around the sides of your face, pulling it toward his own. His lips are warm, the heat of the race still emanating off of him. You dismiss the sweat in his hair as you wrap a hand softly around the nape of his neck, tangling your fingers in his locks. Your other hand rests on the side of his face, your thumb tracing the marks his helmet had left around his eyes.

You pull away first, glancing up into his eyes with a gentle smile, “Good job, you did amazing Max.”

His face heats and he glances away with a light chuckle, “Thank you, baby. I'm glad you're here.”

You wish he'd stop calling you that. At least for the sake of your heart jumping in your chest every time he does.

He looks away but your eyes are still firmly locked on the side of his face, tracing the familiar path around his features that they'd forged over the past six months. The same path they took every morning when you watched him look out over whatever city you were in that weekend. The same path they took when he fell asleep first during a movie in hopes of memorizing every detail before you slunk back into your own bed to fall asleep, the image of his face still etched into your mind.

But as you stare up at Max, trying to memorize the puzzle pieces of his face while he talks to Christian, you realize how futile of an endeavour it is. Not matter how hard you try, you'll never get the slope of his nose just right in your memories. You'll never get the right shade of turquoise for his eyes. The sandy-dark-blond of his hair will fade away until it was nothing in your mind but the shade of your coffee in the morning instead of the colour of his hair.

Maybe you should find a different apartment. Surely, Monaco had a different apartment complex that was far enough away from Max to rid yourself of the incessant thoughts of him that constantly plagued your love-adled brain.

Throughout all of that, you’d almost forgotten you were in love with him.

But when Max turns back to you, a glint in his eyes and a bright smile gracing his lips, you're suddenly all too aware of that fact.

“I’ll see you in a minute, yeah?”

You nod, smile slowly drifting as he walks away to get weighed and do all the usual post-race theatrics.

Christian pats his hand on your shoulder firmly, smiling as you turn around, “Let’s get to the podium, kid.”

You let Christian lead you away, yet again making his way through the crowd to get you both to the front.

The podium celebration is cute, Max’s happiness practically contagious. Lando and George are enthralled as well, the Brits both happy to back on the podium once again.

But when Max leans over to spray the champagne on the team, you put your hands over your face as Christian laughs beside you, both of you trying to avoid the sticky liquid as much as possible.

You peel away from the crowd after Max walks off, trying to find your way to wherever Max had gone.

As you'd left, you'd wandered away from Christian, who knew the paddock much better than you did. This was your first time here and you found yourself looking around for any sign of the Red Bull driver or, at least, a familiar face who could point you in the right direction.

It takes you a few minutes to gain your bearings but when you hear the familiar sound of Max’s voice, you go that direction, turning a corner to see his face.

And you do see him, post-race glow and all. But it's not just him you find. Standing entirely too close to him with her hand resting on his shoulder, is Max’s ex-girlfriend. She's smiling warmly, nodding animatedly at whatever it is Max is saying. Which, from constantly talking to him, you know is not worth the reaction she's giving him.

He's glancing around, clearly not comfortable with the situation. You huff, looking around before conceding and walking over to the pair. Were you maybe taking your time a little bit? Yeah, but you really didn't want to do this.

You roll your eyes when you catch Max’s eye and a relieved look rolls over his face, “Hey, baby.”

Max uses your arrival as an excuse to take a step back, swinging his arm around your shoulder. He's still covered in champagne and sweat but you ignore it, “Hey, Max.”

You finally glance up to meet the eye of the woman in front of you, her eyes narrowed as she looks between you, “Oh my god, hi! You must be Max’s ex!”

She rolls her eyes before smiling tightly with a nod of her head, “Yeah, I am. You must be his new girlfriend.”

You hum affirmatively, smiling wide as you glance over to the man beside you, “I am, yeah. He's just so perfect. We’re so happy together!”

She narrows her eyes again, glancing you up and down before her eyes stop on your face. You roll your head to the side to rest your temple on his shoulder, resting one of your hands against his chest.

“Well, I’m happy you moved on, Max,” She says, turning her entire attention to the man in question, “You seem… perfect together.”

Max gleams, nodding as he leans in to kiss your cheek, “Yeah, I’m really happy.”

His ex chews on her bottom lip for a few moments before huffing and moving away, turning to shout over her shoulder as she walks away, “Have a great life, Max!”

“Thanks, I guess!” Max replies, laughing as soon as the woman is out of earshot. He pulls away from your side, turning to fully face you.

“Thank you!” Max cheers, grasping your shoulders with his hands, “Did you see her face? She was so pissed that I'd moved on.”

You hum, letting him be happy by himself while you stood quietly, “Yeah, you're welcome.”

You peel away from Max, turning to go back to the car park so you can leave. You don't say anything to Max before you walk away, leaving him to jog to catch up to you.

“You okay?” He asks once he's by your side again. You glance over, catching the concerned look on his face.

“Yeah,” you nod curtly, looking back ahead, “Yeah, I'm fine.”

He doesn't seem convinced but he leaves it be, turning away as well.

He pretends not to notice when you coincidentally step away after he tries to grab your hand.

While Max debriefs, you text one of your friends to ask if you could stay with her for a few days when you got back to Monaco. After this fake relationship was over, you needed to get away from Max for a while just to try and push away the growing feelings you have for the Dutch man.

And with the departure of Max’s ex, you'd served your purpose and you could finally get out of Max’s life and give him the solitude he so longed for.

The ride back to the hotel is quiet, the only noise being the sound of your nails tapping against the screen of your phone. Max glances over periodically but you eventually set your phone down, choosing to stare out the window as the dark streets of Brazil pass by quickly.

When you get back to the hotel, you open the car door before Max can get it for you like he usually does. He sends you another glance, trailing passively behind as you walk in front of him. You both pass through the lobby and the elevator, your steps determined and much quicker than Max really wanted to be walking.

He's still riding the high of his win and the defeat of his ex-girlfriend but you're in your own mind, too sick to your stomach to be happy for him.

You pull out the spare room key when you arrive at the room, pressing it against the sensor before shoving the door open roughly, letting it fall against Max behind you who catches it.

You toss the key on the table by the door and set your phone down beside it. You still don't turn around as you throw the jacket he had let you borrow down on his bed.

"What is your problem?" You hear Max’s voice ring out in the otherwise quiet room. Annoyance paints his words, causing you to pause for a split-second.

"I don't have a problem." You say, cringing when you catch how much of a lie it sounds. You move on, though, pulling your suitcase out from under the bed and unzipping it.

Max scoffs, raising a disbelieving eyebrow, "Are you sure? Because it really feels like you do."

"It's nothing, Max." You reply sharply, walking into the attached bathroom, grateful to get away from his gaze for a second.

You come back out, your toiletry bag in hand. You set it down in your suitcase and stand up, walking over to the closet and pulling your clothes off the rack. The sound of the hangers hitting together echoes through your head, only contributing to the headache that had been growing since your revelation that morning.

Max finally catches onto what you're doing and speaks, his voice almost panicked, "What are you doing?"

"Leaving."

"What, already? Why?" You try not to be swayed by the hurt in his voice, turning around and walking past him to set your clothes down in your case.

He follows you over, stepping closer as you stand up. You try and step past him but he puts his arm out, stopping you in your tracks. You concede with a sigh, finally looking him in his eyes.

"It doesn't matter, Max.”

"But it does! What's wrong?" You finally step past him, on your way to go gather the rest of your things but his question makes you turn your head as you walk away.

"Max! It doesn't matter!" You immediately regret how loud your voice is but this wasn't exactly the time to be thinking about the people next door.

Max shakes his head, following you as you walk toward the doot in order to grab your shoes, "No, no, no. You've been like this all day and I can't think of a reason why. Do you really want to get away from me that badly?"

Your face twists, causing you to shake your head as you walk away, praying he wont follow you this time, "No, Max, that's not-"

He doesn't completely follow you but he does step a bit closer, shaking his head with a loud groan, "Then enlighten me! What could possibly happened in the past day that's making you act like this? Why are you leaving? Why won't you tell me? I thought we were supposed to be in this together! Why are you-"

"Because I'm in love with you, Max!" You shout, finally turning to face him as you say it, making eye contact with him for the first time since you'd walked in.

Silence falls between you and you toss your shoes down, covering your face with one of your hands. For a second, you think that Max might never respond, your stomach turning at the thought.

How hard could it be to find a different apartment in Monaco?

"What?" Max’s voice is soft and you look back to him, trying to will your frustrated tears not to fall.

"I'm in love with you! I fell in love with you and I know you don't feel the same. You only wanted me to do this to placate your friends and scare away your ex and now im getting out of your hair. I'm leaving you alone like you wanted in the first place,” Tears finally drip down your face and you don't bother to wipe them away, knowing there was only more where they came from. You look away as you explain, eyes locked onto the carpet beneath you, not wanting to face your embarrassment head-on.

"What are you talking about?" At Max’s purely confused tone, you look back to his face, teeth digging sharply into your bottom lip.

His face is soft, confusion etched into the furrow between his brows. Your stomach flips and you swallow, trying to rebuild the confidence you’d had at the start of your outburst.

The hotel room suddenly feels too cold, the air causing you to rub your hands over your shoulders in order to suppress the goosebumps that had started to rise. When you do speak again, your voice is soft, volume just above a whisper.

"This morning. You said I could stop coming after this race. And I did my job, I scared away your ex. You don't need me,” you trail off at the end of your statement, your voice breaking slightly as you shake your head, tears streaming out of your closed eyes and down your cheeks.

You expect Max to agree, to send you away, to end your friendship out of pure embarrassment after your decleration.

But he doesn't.

His voice is soft, just as yours was. His words are hushed but the emotion behind them seeps through every single word.

"I do, though. I do need you."

You look up, eyes widening at his statement. You can do nothing but stare as he steps closer, his hands grasping the sides of your face. Your own hands reach up to hold his wrists, just wanting to hold him someway.

He raises an eyebrow gently, quirking his head to ask for silent permission. You nod and its only a split-second before he's leaning down, pressing his lips against yours.

His hands cradle the back of your head, pulling you impossibly closer. Your heart threatens to beat out of your chest, his kiss causing your brain to practically melt. You mold together, leaning as close to him as you can as your hold conveys months and months of pent-up and hidden emotions.

As he pulls away, your lips want to chase his but you hold back, your eyes flickering open as he leans his forehead against yours. Neither of your speak for a few moments, silence settling between the two of you ask you bask in the adoration between you.

Max’s hand drifts back to your jaw, his thumb drifting across your cheekbone passively. You see his eyes look up and you glance up as well, catching his sparkling gaze in yours.

“I love you,” the words tumble out of his mouth, falling smoothly out of the lips you oh-so wished he would press against your own once again, “I'm in love with you. I fell for you during this whole thing, everything about you.”

You go to respond but he cuts you off, shaking his head lightly.

“I only told you that you could stop coming because I thought you'd grown tired of all this,” he takes a deep breath before continuing, leaning slightly into your hand that had drifted into his hair, “But I'm kind of glad I did.”

You furrow your eyebrows, quirking your head. Max pauses, allowing you the chance to admire every feature of his face, turning his freckles into constellations that you'd willingly stargaze in for hours. His hair is tousled from where your fingers had tangled in it and his lips are red from being pressed against yours. His teeth dig into said lip as he thinks before responding. You'd honestly be fine if he never finished his thought and you got to just look at him forever.

But he does finish his thought, the look in his eyes making your heart jump, "Because I don't want to pretend anymore."

You wait a moment, giving him the chance to take it back in case this was a joke, in case he didn't really mean it. But he doesn't take it back, he doesn't laugh.

And so you nod, "I want to do this with you for real, Max. I don't want to lie to anyone anymore, I want to celebrate with you after a race, not because people expect me to, but because I love you."

Max lights up, his face splitting into a wide grin at your words. Before you can react, his arms are around you and your feet are lifted off the ground as Max basically throws you onto the bed beside you.

Your laugh echoes through the hotel room, punctuated by the sound of Max flopping down next to you. You continue to giggle, glancing down to meet Max’s eyes, a special glint shining through.

You calm down after a few seconds as Max continures to gaze at you. When silence finally comes over you, Max leans up to rest on his elbows as you sit up slightly to look down at him.

“I love you too, by the way,” He says softly, “Dont know if you noticed.”

You hum, biting your lip to hold back your laugh, “I assumed so, yeah.”

You laugh as Max huffs, reaching a hand up to pull you down beside him, “Shut up.”

And you do, going quiet as your lips meet his. Later that night, as your both lying in bed, together this time, you fall asleep with your head against his chest, basking in the long-lastint but newly-confessed love between you.

The next morning, you wake up before Max, as you'd done so often. You slip out of his hold and pad over softly to the balcony, sliding on one of his hoodies before you open the sliding door.

You sink into one of the two chairs, looking out over the city of Sao Paulo as it slowly wakes up. The sun peeks out over the horizon, adding light to the previously dark morning.

Eventually, the door slides open behind you and you don’t even have to look to know it’s Max. But you look anyway, happy to take any chance to observe the man.

You take the mug from his offering hand, grasping the warm ceramic tightly. Max doesn’t walk over to the railing, instead moving toward the chair next to you. Before he sits down, he slides it over, pushing it as close to your chair as it could go. He sits down and you twist to sit sideways, leaning your legs over the arm of the chair. Max gently pulls your ankles over his chair to rest in his lap before he takes a long sip of his coffee.

You take a long sip of your own mug as well, letting the taste of the coffee coat your throat and warm your heart.

Milk and sugar, just the way you like it.

——————

Tags: @evie-119 @casperlikej

#scheduled #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #formula 1 #max verstappen x fem!reader #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x reader

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xgosiax · 2 years

Photo

Austin Fiberboard

#A large #simple #two-story concrete fiberboard gable roof design is an example. privacy fencing #awnings & shade sails #wood look garage door #2 car garage #metal roof

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astralnymphh · 1 year

Text

kneeling for her ⋆ | ellie williams headcanons

༺ ellie x fem!reader sucking her strap hcs/scenario! ༻ ☽𖤐☾

(ellie image from kittaeria on pinterest)

✧˖ ° 🕯 bright blessings!

AN: had the most random scenario blossom in my head yesterday so i wrote it per usual, went a lil more risqué with this one 😜at least to my standards

cw/tags: NSFW!! SMUT!! MDNI!! ellies a lil goofy in the beginning, blunt/straightforward-ish reader, not a fully wrote out fic, small time skips, sitting on lap, cursing, takes place in jackson but not specified to be before seattle (readers choice) soft-dom leaning ellie (except maybe less soft in one instance, nothing rough tho), guiding you verbally and with hands, praises, petnames; (good girl, baby, slut) sucking/choking on strap, clit stim (giving) strap-vag insertion, flatiron position, rewarding, gripping head/hair, deepthroating.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

setting the scene

༻⛧one dusty orange sunset, cooped up in ellie's makeshift 'garage house' relishing a simple meal she whipped up for the both of you, albeit can you really classify her attempts at the art of culinary as five-star cuisine? regardless, the two of you slumped into the gray sofas' sufficient padding and dined like kings; in apocalyptic standards. no conversation had been rustling the space between you until a rather, interesting, unordinary, dare say- scandalous? scenario had implanted its peculiar self into your thoughts.

"hey babe?" you quell the silence, tone arching in curiosity.

"mhm?" ellie garbled through shut lips, chowing down her food.

"you know.. we should- try something new-"

"ooh~ like what?" she instantaneously hunches her back closer to you and tosses her barren plate aside, avid to hear your words go from mind to mouth. she invariably dotes on your ideas.

"uh- it's like.. related to.. bed stuff."

"like sleepin- wait! can we pleaaasee build a display shelf for my comic books above my bed-"

"ellie."

"sorry." ellie, even being an adult, is still crazy about her long-kept hobbies.

"uh- anyways. I'm talking 'bout like.. sex." you impenitently tell.

her eyelids dim, sloping her head to the side in adorned interest, "sex? that's one way to ask."

"no ..seriously, I have an idea.." you stow the plate atop a stubby heap of books, conveying a genuineness in your stare.

ellie sails her tongue briskly through her lips, anchoring her torso back onto the sofas' arm, lengthening her legs out with a faint bend at the knees. her palm drops to her thigh, patting it twice.

"c'm over here." she coaxes sweetly with an alluring gaze, imbued with a pip of power in her vowels.

a suffuse of blush overlies your midface, crawling your body towards her beckon.

her hands steady your hips down on her lap, finding refuge on the back of your thighs thereupon settling.

"what's the idea, then?" the moods' been shifted, emanating one of sensuality.

you nestle near her headspace, whispering, "y'know ur' strap?"

"yeah.." ellie likes where this is leading, clearly by her rapt smirk and tune of chords rising in tempt.

"what if I sucked it?"

⛧ oh boy, that set off a night she wouldn't be forgetting for the inbound days ahead. immediately you found yourself levitating up from the couch by her arms and bouncing on the mattress. a makeout session leads to fated stripping and now, your kneeling in front of her at groin-level and a hunter green mass protruding towards your nose bridge.

her optics glare down at you, the sight of you so keen and willing to do this. sure, it's not the real thing but the sight should and will be fucking exhilarating.

"c'mon, what're you staring at?" ellie's hand gently smacks your cheek and splinters your blurry-minded trance.

you deduct a reply from your mouth, instead, taking a solid grasp of the strap and wrapping your lips round' the tip, all while preserving unwavering eye contact.

"shit.."

her hands ease and twine the locks on each margin of your head, massaging the pads of her fingertips tenderly. her arousals' climbing new peaks every second at this rate. she presses her pelvis further upon your lip, steering you to open up.

your lips part and welcome the rotund tip in, stroking along your front teeth. the weak grasp on your head pushes the strap languidly to a greater extent that bounds it to the back wall of your throat.

"ach-" you jab out a cough.

"good girl, take that shit in.."

⛧she's one to be in control, but it's nothing rough. her hands guiding you back n forth gently as the strap summons spurts of tickles in your throat each time it prods the back of it. it'd be far enough to chafe the hilt against her clit, per usual any time she wears the contraption, so you'd always hear quaint whimpers, curses, groans, etcetera, from above.

"mhh~ fuuhhhhckkkk.." ellie draws out a long euphoric groan, straining her neck back and exposing the mild protrusion of her adam's apple.

catching up with the motion, you begin bobbing your head on your own accord. her hands dull their hold and hover above, letting you work your utter sorcery, mouth wide open and drooling for her.

her head recoils down, "such a slut- oohh~ fuck.."

⛧again, she's not rough without consent and a special occasion, but she'll clutch your hair firmly enough. to you, it's like her non-verbal sign that says 'go faster'.

thrusting your head faster, her own moans begin to burgeon and crowd the room over your sucking and popping noises. she looks so fucking hot from your angle, a clement sweat, fucked out face, leaning slightly back so her pelvis projects closer to you, a solo hand supporting on the back of her thigh, the other latched onto the apex of your head and knotting strands of hair around her fingers. it's all getting to you.

"oh- baby, fuck- keep goin'n.. uhn- shit!" the climax augmenting within her hips jitters the shit out of her knees, begging to just buckle underneath her and collapse on the bed.

"gh- hn.." your words fumble around ellie's cock, still putting your all into pleasing her. adding a grip on the strap and stroking it was endgame for her, the adjoined knocking against her swelling bud ruined her.

⛧ellie's definitely more of a groaner and a huffer when she comes, it's not growling level but it's certainly not fake exaggerated ones.

⛧i think she's also the type who'd want you to come as well, like, there is not a single night where she's the only one getting pleased, she has to see you unravel and lose your shit under her.

"stop, baby- stop.." ellie hastily hushes through heaves of breath, pulling your head from the strap to which it springs off your lips.

"huh..?"

"m'not cummin' without you- fuck.." her fingers take a grapple at your jaw, guiding you up onto your feet.

you give her a blank stare until it's washed away with a surprised one as you're cast onto the bed, stomach down, ass up. she shambles over you and flattens you out till your hips settle in the cloudy mattress.

she mounts your thighs and inclines her crotch to yours, slowly inserting into your cunt from the back. her nails chisel into your plush hips, thumbs notably indenting on your ass.

"oh-my gmm.. ellie.."

"god damn-" she mumbles to herself, cuffing out a quick chuckle, "you earned this.." positively rewarding you for your work.

insert a loooong night spent railing.

⛧random conclusion hc but I feel like in this position where she's behind you she'll litter you with kisses and bites on your shoulder-neck region, especially for being so good and disposed for her.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

MASTERLIST

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joeys-babe · 27 days

Text

Joey B Imagine: Simply Shady II*

Summary: You surprise Joe at training camp!

(Part 2 to - Part one)

Warnings: Fluff, smut (sending nudes, piv sex in a public place)

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine Universe: Misc.

A/N: Go to the very end to see y/n’s Porsche!! (you'll find out about it later)

August 1, 2024 - Second day of pads

After my mental walk through memory lane sparked by Joe’s hair, we cuddled in bed for a few more minutes before Joe got up to shower.

Last night, after quite a few rounds of a purely blissful workout, Joe and I were too tired to shower, so he was going it now. Since he was up early to go to camp, I was in no rush to get out of bed, so I declined his offer to join him.

Joe showered fairly quickly and came out of the bathroom wearing a random t-shirt and his pink shorts. He walked over to the bed, a grin on his face as he pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“I’ll be back home right after practice ends. I don't have any meetings or sessions today.” - Joe

“Alrighty. See ya later, I love you.” - you

“I love you too. Byeeee.” - Joe

Joe drawled the word out as he grabbed his practice bag and disappeared down the hallway. I laid there just grinning at his adorableness.

After staring at the doorway for a few moments, I rolled over onto Joe’s pillow like I always did when he was gone. I loved burrowing my nose into the fabric to smell his familiar scent, something that always helped if I was dealing with separation anxiety.

An hour later, I had just stepped out of the shower when my phone vibrated on the counter.

bengals added to their story

I immediately picked up my phone and clicked the notification. My eyes widened at the video of Joe walking into the practice fields. That black compression shirt was one of the hottest things he could wear, along with his cut-off football pants turned into shorts. God, he looks mouthwatering. After staring for a few minutes, a thought entered my head.

What if I went to surprise him?

Joe and I had been planning on soft launching our engagement for a while now. Every idea we came up with, we didn't like. An Instagram post didn't feel like an us way of announcing it. And Joe didn't want to just blurt it out in a press conference.

What if I went, surprised Joe, and wore my ring?

I couldn't help but giggle when I looked over at it in my jewelry dish. Though I had told Joe I didn't need anything big and flashy, that’s exactly what he gave me. The gorgeous diamond glittered in the light coming from overhead, and you couldn't miss it from a mile away.

After I made my mind up, I quickly threw on a pair of jean shorts and Joe’s yellow Bengals shirt. I blow-dried my hair, did light makeup after, and then pulled my hair back into a slicked-back ponytail. I curled the pony as a final touch, grabbed my lipgloss that I knew was Joe’s favorite scent, and sprayed my fav perfume on.

I was walking out of the bathroom when I stopped dead in my tracks, honestly unable to fathom how I almost forgot the star of the show.

Doing a quick jog back to the bathroom, I grabbed my engagement ring and slipped it on, my eyes going wide when I saw that my curling iron was still on.

“Oopsies.” - you chuckled to yourself

After that, it was smooth sailing all the to the garage and into my car. As soon as my hand touched the steering wheel, I remembered when Joe surprised me with it.

——

Flashback - October, 2023

It was a normal October day, or so I thought, I was returning home after yet another shitty day at work, but a smile pulled on my lips when I pulled into the driveway to see Joe standing at the front door, waiting for me.

He was wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt, looking incredibly adorable with his hood pulled over his head. I was quick to get out of the car to run up to him, not even paying any mind to park in the garage like normal.

“Hi, baby.” - Joe grinned

“What are you up to?” - you laughed

Joe just shrugged with a smile, wrapping his arms around my waist and holding me close to his warm chest. I could feel his rapid heartbeat, but I just figured it was because he was excited that I was home.

I leaned in to give him a sweet kiss, our lips staying entwined as Joe pulled me into the house and shut the door.

He ended up pulling away out of necessity, both of us a little out of breath from the kiss.

“I have a surprise for you in the garage.” - Joe

I gasped, my hands lightly slapping his chest out of excitement. I tried to think about what the surprise could be, especially with it being in the garage. Joe had just signed his contract extension last month, and with the load of money that had just come into his possession, he was unpredictable.

“Did you get the patio furniture I was looking at the other day?” - you gasped

Joe shrugged, purposely grinning cheekily to lead you on to think that you had guessed it. You couldn't be farther off, though.

A moment later, Joe moved to stand behind me. He put one muscular arm around my waist to guide me before covering my eyes with one big hand.

“Joeyy.” - you giggled

“Just trust me.” - Joe grinned

I did just that, and Joe guided me to the garage, pausing for a moment to open the door before leading me down the steps.

“Okay ready?” - Joe

“Mhm!!” - you

Joe felt a smile pull at his lips at how excited I was getting. With his arm still around my waist and his hand still on my eyes, Joe leaned forward and turned his head to the side to kiss my cheek.

“Three… two… one…” - Joe

Dramatically, Joe removed his hands from my eyes and jumped to the side to watch my reaction.

Letting out a loud gasp, I immediately slapped my hands onto my cheeks when I saw what was in front of me. It was a car. A fucking Porsche, to be more specific. It was my favorite color, blue, and one of the prettiest shades of it at that.

“Joe! You did not!” - you

“But I diddd.” - Joe smirked

After staring at the car of my literal dreams for a few more moments, tears started to form in my eyes. Joe, my boyfriend, who just signed a huge contract, made his first big purchase of it on me.

I turned and looked at him before running into his arms. Joe immediately hugged me tight, slowly swaying us from side to side as he let me cry into his chest.

“I hope these are happy tears.” - Joe nervously chuckled

“They're major happy tears, Joey.” - you sobbed

Joe pulled my head away from his chest before turning around and reaching into the mudroom. He grabbed the key off of the little hanger, handing it to me with a proud smile on his face.

He loved every bit of this. He was making the amount of money where he could buy his favorite person the car of her dreams, and he had never felt so proud of himself.

“Go look.” - Joe smiled

I unlocked the car, opened the door, and somehow cried harder when I saw the interior. Joe seriously picked everything that I would've.

Before I even got a good look, I turned back around and moved back into Joe’s arms. Joe chuckled as he held me close, rubbing my back and peppering my head with kisses.

“Thank you… so much.” - you cried

“You’re so welcome, baby.” - Joe

It took me a few minutes to collect myself, but once I wasn't steadily crying, Joe and I got into the car so he could show me how to work some stuff.

“Oh, fuck. I forgot I got the massaging front seats too.” - Joe

“These things massage?!?” - you

“Yup. They're also ventilated and heated.” - Joe grinned

He really decked me out.

“Why’d you get all of these add-ons for my car when you just got original everything for your own?” - you

“Uhm, that's obvious. I want you to have everything and more, so I'm gonna get you everything possible. Did you see the all-black wheels??” - Joe

I nodded, feeling a little emotional when Joe hooked his phone up to the car and played a favorite song of mine lately.

Joe and I giggled, using our hands as fake microphones as we sang You Belong With Me by Taylor Swift. I had my head leaned over onto his shoulder as I sang, lovesick grins on both of our faces.

“I love you.” - Joe grinned

“I love you more.” - you smiled

——

Back to present day

By the time my walk down memory lane was over, I was pulling into the parking lot of the stadium. My eyes widened when I realized I somehow drove here completely zoned out.

“I won't question it.” - you mumbled

As I walked over to the practice fields, I noticed my favorite security guard already smiling at me from a few feet away.

“Hey, Freddie!!” - you grinned

“Hello, Miss y/n.” - Freddie

Freddie waved, and without thinking, I waved back with my left hand. Freddie’s eyes went wide, and I giggled when I looked down at my hand to see what gave him that reaction.

“Is that a ring I see??” - Freddie

“Yes, sir.” - you grinned

Once I got closer to him, he put his hand out, and I hovered my hand over his. Freddie examined the hefty ring on my finger with a smile on his face.

“I’m glad he finally did it. And might I add, Mr. Burrow did exceptionally picking this out. This ring is huge, sweetie.” - Freddie

“I’m glad he did it too, and yes, Joe did amazing. I catch myself staring at it all of the time.” - you

“Does he know you're coming?” - Freddie

I shook my head no, and Freddie personally escorted me over to the family and friends area. He knew I got a lot of unwarranted hate, and without Joe knowing I was here and keeping eyes on me, he wanted to make sure I got over to the restricted area safely.

When I first got over to some of the other wags, I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the amount of adorable babies there were.

Gracie McPherson, Evan’s wife, let me hold their daughter Merritt, and I felt myself melt when I held her in my arms.

Morgan Wilson was standing to the side, silently smiling as she assessed the situation before her eyes fell on the ring on my finger. She let out a loud gasp, making all of us look over at her.

“Everything okay?” - Gracie

“Y/N… what is on your left hand?!” - Morgan

Gracie’s neck snapped in my direction before she looked down at my ring finger, making her gasp as well.

I couldn't help but laugh as Gracie, Morgan, and a couple of the other girls all looked at me with their jaws dropped open. They were waiting for me to say something or at least confirm their thoughts.

“We’re engaged.” - you grinned

All of the girls squealed, Gracie even getting Merritt out of my arms in back in her stroller so that she could pull me into a hug.

“You’re gonna be a wife!!!!” - Gracie

“Oh my gosh! Here comes Mrs. Y/N Burrow, everyone!” - Morgan squealed

We all spent a few minutes giggling, all of the girls congratulating me and poking fun at Joe for finally getting down on one knee.

The rest of the practice was kind of boring. Nothing super significant happened until the practice was finally over. Sam came over to say hi to Jess, his face lighting up when he saw me, knowing I was here to surprise Joe.

“Oh my god! Wait, I'll go get him.” - Sam

Sam gave Jess a quick kiss before running off to get Joe, who was signing autographs. From far away, I saw Joe’s face light up when Sam pointed in the direction of the family area.

Joe signed for a few more minutes before jogging over to me. I giggled when I saw that he was trying to suppress a grin.

When Joe finally made it over to me, he let the grin take over his lips. There was a rope between us, and Joe crouched underneath it.

God, he looks perfect. Joe’s wearing his black cut-off compression shirt with his little white shorts.

“What’re you doing here??” - Joe grinned

“Wanted to surprise you.” - you grinned

“Well, you sure did.” - Joe chuckled

I reached out with my left hand, putting it on Joe’s chest. Joe looked down at my hand and smiled when he noticed that I had my engagement ring on.

“Is this our soft hard launch?” - Joe

“I think soooo. All of the girls were freaking out when they saw it.” - you giggled

Joe’s cheeks were starting to hurt from how hard he was smiling. He was over the moon that it would be public that we were getting married, along with the excitement that I had surprised him.

“Can I get a kiss?” - Joe

“I don't know. You're super sweaty.” - you chuckled

All he did was roll his eyes, wrapping a muscular arm around my waist and pulling me into him before pressing his lips to mine. The kiss was short, still a little heated, though.

Joe just looked way too hot right now. How was I supposed to not kiss him harder than usual?

When we eventually pulled away, Joe’s eyes were a little wide, and his cheeks were flushed.

“Someone’s worked up.” - Joe chuckled

“Have you seen yourself? I'm gonna be a little worked up when my fiance looks like a walking orgasm.” - you

Joe rolled his eyes a little, trying to cover up that his cheeks were blushing before he leaned in for another kiss. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the photographers snapping a picture in our direction, so I made sure that my ring was noticeable.

“Very subtle, baby.” - Joe laughed

“We’re not going for subtle. If I could climb to the top of the stadium with a megaphone and yell that we were engaged, I would.” - you

We spent a few more minutes wrapped up in each other before Joe departed to go take a shower. I walked back to my car with an unwipeable smile stuck on my face.

I was sitting in the driver's seat, waiting for Joe to come out since he said we could go get lunch together, when he sent me a text.

It was a few pictures of us that the photographer had taken, my engagement ring sparkling under the Cincinnati sun. The text Joe sent with it made me giggle.

I’d say I did a pretty damn good job picking that ring 🤷🏼‍♂️

You definitely did babe 😙

I mean… do you see that sparkle?!

I think the space station can see the sparkle, Joe. LOL. But hurry up! I'm hungryyy.

Yes, ma'am 🫡

As I waited for Joe, I laid my head back against the headrest, and my mind wandered back to the end of June.

——

Flashback - end of June

Joe was done in France and was on his plane home. I was so excited to see him after being apart from him for a while.

I landed and am at the place 😁

What the fuck does that mean?

Wdym? What place?

The Airbnb that we’re staying at for a few days.

My mouth dropped open at his text, my heart rate picking up at the surprise. Where even was he?

We’re? Where are you??

Yes, we’re. You have a flight here to me tomorrow. I'm in Hydra, Greece, baby. 🤍

What the fuck? Is this a joke? Why are we going to Greece?

It’s almost camp. I felt bad that my first big International trip wasn't with you. So why not extend said trip a little so that I can have memories with the love of my life, too?

You’re unreal. Giving me a day's notice to pack is crazy, though. You’re lucky that I'm so excited for this trip, babyyy.

Then you should get to it, babyyy. Ttyl 😘

I had to grin when he used extra y’s in the word baby like I had. He's so adorable sometimes.

Ttyl Joey!! ILYYY. I'm so excited for the trip. 🤭

Joe hearted the message before he put his phone down to take a nap. On his bedside table was the little black box that had been burning a hole in his pocket for a while. He couldn't help but grin when he grabbed it, pulling it to him before opening it to see the engagement ring that was stored inside.

This was it. He was gonna propose. And he was so glad that it was you.

Though packing was a nightmare, I got done eventually and got ready for the night. I don't think I ever slept just tossed and turned out of excitement.

The morning came fairly quickly, and I was practically bubbling when I walked up the steps of the charter plane.

I sent Joe a quick text telling him that I made it onto the plane, ending it with yet another ‘I miss you’.

Scrolling through my camera roll while waiting for a response, I was a little intrigued when the text banner popped up.

Shiesty 💓 - Attachment: 1 Image

I clicked the notification, gasping when I saw the picture, and immediately smashed my phone to my chest to cover my screen.

The image consisted of Joe standing in front of a wall-length mirror, butt naked. The star of the show? One of his huge veiny hands wrapped around his even bigger erect cock.

I miss you too. 💕

I couldn't help but laugh. The insanely revealing and intimate image paired with such a tame and innocent text was baffling. It was so Joe, though.

Joe’s duality never failed to amaze me. On the outside, he was this confident, level-headed star NFL quarterback, and at home with me, he could be multiple different things.

1. An intimate, purely sexy lover who took the reigns in the bedroom.

2. A seriously romantic guy, constantly showering me with love and affection. His more serious side when it came to our relationship.

3. A total softy goofball. Where all he wants is to be cuddled and kissed as he can't help but blush and giggle.

There was never any in-between, and he was always in one of those three modes.

It was a few moments later when I realized I hadn't texted Joe back, so I made sure to quickly do that.

Oh my god, Joe.

Thought I’d send you a little treat after those lingerie pics you sent me last night. 😙

That is def a treat, baby. I wish I was there to have a taste.

You have no idea how horny I am right now. I’m about to bust just from seeing your contact name pop up.

Joe and I went back and forth for a while, just teasing each other before he eventually said that he was in dire need of a cold shower. I had to giggle when Joe sent me a selfie, showing me that his face was completely flushed red.

After my text convo with Joe ended, I decided to take a nap because this was going to be a loooong plane ride.

When I finally landed, it was later in the day in Greece, and there was already a driver for me waiting.

I was antsy the entire way there, just completely excited to see Joe for the first time in a week. When the GPS in the car said arrived, my jaw dropped open at the beautiful house we pulled up to.

Joe was standing on the second-floor balcony, a grin spreading on his lips when he saw me step out of the car.

“Joey!!!” - you squealed

“Hi, baby.” - Joe smiled

Moments later, I helped the driver get my suitcase to the door before I ran into the house. I quickly found the staircase that led upstairs, peeking in every room till I found the master bedroom that Joe was standing in.

When I finally found him, I practically sprinted towards him before throwing myself into his arms.

“There's my gorgeous girl.” - Joe

My legs went around Joe’s waist as his arms went around my waist. Joe held me tightly to him as he slowly swayed from side to side, squeezing me tightly.

“I missed you so much.” - you

“I missed you too, baby. So much.” - Joe

We stayed like that for a while, just wrapped up in each other’s arms before Joe eventually moved around and fell back onto the bed. I fell with him, and I quickly got comfortable in his chest.

“Do you wanna take a quick nap? We have a date later.” - Joe

“A date?” - you grinned

Joe’s heart fluttered when he saw the sparkle in your eyes. He hoped he'd see them again later after what he was going to do at dinner, which would change your lives forever.

After our nap, Joe got ready fairly quickly, but it took me a lot longer. I was surprised to see that Joe was somewhat dressed up when he walked into the bathroom.

“You look handsome.” - you grinned

Joe slightly blushed at the comment, walking up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. He rested his chin on my shoulder, just watching me do my makeup.

“I love you so much.” - Joe mumbled

“I love you too.” - you grinned

Joe and I walked hand in hand to the restaurant just because it was so close. The hostess immediately recognized Joe and walked us to our private eating area outside.

It overlooked the gorgeous water, and the warm fairy lights above us illuminated the darkness.

“Joe, it’s beautiful.” - you

Joe looked over at me, his baby-blue eyes scanning over every feature on my face as I continued to look forward.

“It is, isn't it?” - Joe

He was talking about you.

Dinner was delicious, and it was incredibly romantic. The slight breeze made Joe’s curls fly around, and there were quite a few times when I caught myself staring at him. The light from the candle on the table lit up Joe’s eyes and made his tan skin glow in an utterly incandescent way.

Joe’s white button-up shirt was clinging to his chest and arms, making him look even more desirable. He just looked perfect all around.

When we were finished eating and Joe paid, we started walking together, but in the opposite direction of our Airbnb.

“Joe, where are we going?” - you

“You’ll see.” - Joe grinned

After walking for a few minutes, my hand tightly wrapped in Joe’s, we ended up at this private beach access point.

“Uhm, are we allowed to be here?” - you

“Yup. I pulled some strings. You might wanna take your heels off, though.” - Joe

I bent down to start unwrapping the strings of my heels before Joe dropped down on his knees in front of me. Joe gently picked one of my feet up, and I grabbed onto his shoulders as he slid the shoe off, doing the same for the other side.

Joe stood back up, holding my heels with one hand and going back to holding my hand in the other. It was a small gesture, holding my heels for me, but it didn't go unnoticed.

As we started walking together, I saw a wooden rope swing in the distance, roses and candles all scattered around it.

“Joe… this is so sweet.” - you smiled

“Wanna swing?” - Joe grinned

I nodded, and we both quickly jogged over. The swing was sort of high up, so Joe grabbed my hips, easily lifting me and setting me down on the piece of wood.

Then, Joe walked behind me and gently started pushing me. The giggles leaving my lips were calming his nerves because silently, he was freaking out. He was now hyperaware of the ring box in his pocket, and suddenly, that pocket started feeling tighter and tighter.

After a few minutes, Joe walked back in front of me, and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders to pull him closer and kiss him.

“This is the most romantic thing in the world, Joe. Thank you for everything.” - you

I looked up at him, nothing but love in his eyes as he looked down at me like I was the only woman in the world like I was his most valuable possession.

“You mean the world to me, y/n. You’re the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me, and though I wholeheartedly believe that women aren't possessions, you're the most valuable thing I've ever had.” - Joe

“I was just thinking that! I was just thinking that you look at me like I'm your most valuable possession.” - you

The entire time I was talking, Joe was staring into my eyes with that perfect smile on his face. He seemed a little dazed, but I’ll take it as he's a little tired, happy, and buzzed from the wine we drank at the restaurant.

“You always know what I'm thinking, huh?” - Joe

“That seems to be a common theme!” - you giggled

That’s when Joe got an idea.

“Oo. Let’s test your skills. Close your eyes, and I’ll hold several fingers up. You have to guess, and you can open your eyes to see if you're right after.” - Joe

“Okay!!” - you giggled

I closed my eyes, and Joe silently held a couple of fingers up. With my eyes still shut, I guessed.

“Mmm. Three.” - you

Joe quickly switched the number of fingers from one to three, wanting you to think you got it right because that would make what was about to happen even sweeter.

When I opened my eyes, I laughed when I saw that I had guessed right, clapping my hands and doing a little happy dance.

“I got it!” - you

“You know me so well. Okay, one more.” - Joe smiled

As soon as I closed my eyes, Joe quickly dropped down onto one knee. His heart was beating out of his chest, and his hands were shaking when he pulled the box out of his pocket.

“Mm. I think… nine.” - you guess

Joe took a deep breath before I opened my eyes. I immediately gasped when I looked down at Joe, my hands going up to my face as I immediately started crying.

“Y/n. I don't even know where to start.” - Joe

He nervously chuckled, trying to blink back tears as he took a deep breath and just spoke from the heart.

“Y/n, from the moment we collided on that sidewalk, my life changed forever. It was a chance encounter, but it felt like destiny was bringing us together. Who would have thought that a simple accident would lead to the most beautiful journey of my life? We've been inseparable since college, growing up together, learning from each other, and facing every challenge hand in hand. Your love and support have been my anchor, especially through the demanding world of the NFL. You've been there for every game, every victory, every defeat, cheering me on and lifting me. Your belief in me has been my greatest strength. Now, as we stand on the brink of the rest of our lives, I can't help but look back at all the incredible moments we've shared and look forward to the countless memories yet to be made. You are my best friend, my confidant, and the love of my life. I want to spend every day making you as happy as you make me.” - Joe

Joe’s voice was shaky, along with the sobs that left my mouth as tears streamed down my face. When he was finished speaking, he took yet another deep breath and popped open the ring box.

“Will you marry me? Will you be my forever, my always, and my everything for the rest of my life?” - Joe

I nodded my head, slipping off of the swing and getting onto my knees as well. I engulfed Joe in a hug as I cried into his neck.

“Is that a yes?” - Joe

Pulling back, I cupped his cheeks and looked into his gorgeous teary eyes.

“Yes. Yes, Joe, I’ll marry you.” - you

Joe lept forward, wrapping his arms even tighter around my waist as he smashed his lips into mine. When we pulled away, both Joe and I laughed through our tears as he slipped the ring on my finger.

“We’re gonna get married.” - you sniffed

“Yeah… we are.” - Joe sniffed

We kissed for a few minutes after that, just feeling more in love than ever. Joe was so fucking glad he finally did it.

“My fiance.” - Joe mouthed to himself

——

Back to present day

I was pulled out of my thoughts when there was a knock on my passenger-side window. I jumped, looking over to see Joe cupping his hands to try and see through the tinted glass.

Rolling down the window a little, Joe jumped back, and I unlocked the door. Joe opened it and slid into the seat with a smile on his face.

I grinned when I looked over at him, he was still wearing his compression shirt and shorts, even after he had just practiced in it.

“Why’re you still wearing that?” - you

Joe shrugged because he didn't have a real answer. He put it on in hopes that it'd work you up enough to have a quickie in the back of the car, and since you noticed it so quickly, he was hoping that's what was gonna happen.

“You look good. The extra weight you've put on is driving me crazy.” - you

I spoke to him as I punched in the address for the salad place Joe and I were going to. We’d just get it to-go and eat it in the car.

When I started driving, Joe reached over and put his hand on my thigh, not knowing what to do since he wasn't usually in the passenger seat.

Joe just scrolled through his phone until that bored him, and then he initiated a game of I Spy.

While we were eating our lunch, I randomly turned sideways in my seat, extending my legs and letting them rest on Joe’s lap. He barely even flinched, settling his salad on my shins as he continued eating.

“Hey, can I post one of those pics? Do you think it would be a good idea to? So that it’s coming from one of us.” - you

Joe shrugged, taking a hefty bite before quickly chewing it up and swallowing. When he was done with his mouthful, Joe put his fork in his bowl and put his empty hand on my thigh.

“You can do whatever you want, baby. You don't need my permission.” - Joe

“I know, but this is a big deal. If you don't want me to post it, that's okay. This is just as much about you as it is about me.” - you

Joe squeezed my thigh, his eyes never leaving my face as he thought of what to say next.

“You can post it. You can even do that collaboration thing where it posts to my account too, if you want.” - Joe

“You want that on your feed? Joe, you've never once posted me.” - you

“Yes, and I realize how fucking stupid that is. You're the woman that I'm spending the rest of my life with, why not post you?” - Joe shrugged

This Joe 2.0 was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. After his wrist injury, Joe had almost turned into a completely different person. But he'd grown for the better.

“You mean that?” - you

“Of course I mean it. I mean all of it.” - Joe

When he said that, Joe reached out and grabbed my left hand, running his pointed finger over my ring, and my heart exploded.

After I gave him a quick kiss, I reached for my phone, saved the photos Joe sent me, put a quick filter on them, and selected them on an IG post.

I pondered the caption before typing what I thought was clever yet funny.

Got my ring. It’s Joe’s turn this season! 🧡

Joe laughed when I showed him, but he thought it was the cutest thing ever. Before posting it, I made sure to turn the comments off before inviting Joe to be a collaborator. I showed him how to accept it on his phone before finally posting it.

“I’m sorry that it took me so long to realize that I should post you. I've kept the greatest thing to ever happen to me in the dark, and it’s gonna break my heart when the inevitable ‘I didn't even know you had a girl’ comments come rolling in. I just want you to know that you mean the world to me. No matter what anyone else says.” - Joe

When I met his soft eyes, my stomach fluttered but my heart broke a little at the apologetic look in his eye.

“Hey, you know that doesn't matter to me. I genuinely don't care what we make public because of how much love we share in private. I know how much I mean to you.” - you

Joe didn't know what to say, so he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my lips. When we pulled away, Joe dropped his head on my shoulder, feeling a need for closeness.

“I love you.” - Joe mumbled

“I love you too. Always.” - you kiss head

An impulsive thought entered his mind, and his tongue darted out, licking a stripe up my neck before pulling his tongue back into his mouth and giggling.

“Joe!” - you giggled

“Sorryyy.” - Joe drawled it out

After we finished lunch, I drove us back to the stadium so Joe could drive his Porsche back home.

Joe gave me a thorough kiss before he opened the door and slid out. He shut his door before running around the front of the car to my window.

When I didn't roll it down immediately, Joe adorably tapped on the glass, smiling when I eventually rolled the window down.

“I hope you know you're wiping that fingerprint off of my window, Mr. Burrow.” - you

Joe pulled his compression shirt away from his stomach, using it to wipe the barely there mark that I was simply just teasing about. My eyes immediately were glued to the patch of his stomach that was bare, practically salivating at the sight of his happy trail and the thought of what it led too.

“There. But I wanted to know if you wanted to head inside the facility with me. I have to grab something from my locker, and I thought you might wanna see the locker room revamp in person.” - Joe

“Am I allowed? What if a guy walks out of the shower room all naked.” - you

“Practice has been over for like two hours. No one’s there.” - Joe

I contemplated his offer before eventually turning my car off, locking it, and grinning when Joe opened my door for me.

We walked hand in hand to the facility, smiling at the receptionist, Laura, who greeted us.

“Congratulations, you two. I saw your post. Nice ring choice, Joe.” - Laura

“I’d say I did pretty good.” - Joe shrugged

Joe and I kept walking after a minute or so, leading me to these big double doors that needed his key card to enter yet again.

My jaw dropped open when Joe opened the door and gestured for me to walk in. The last time I was in the locker room was after the boys won the AFC Championship. This was not the same locker room.

“Woww. This is so cool, Joe.” - you

“Wait. You haven't even seen my locker.” - Joe

Joe grabbed my hand again, his long legs and excited pace making it hard for me to keep up with him as he borderline race-walked to his area.

“Look! It’s clean. All organized. OH, and look at my fridge!” - Joe

It was adorable how excited he was getting to show me everything. His emphasis on the fact that it was clean was because, with the lack of storage in the old lockers, Joe’s would get majorly messy, and Sam would take a picture when Joe wasn't around and send it to me.

There had been a few times when I’d gotten onto Joe to clean it up, so he was proud to show me his somewhat organized locker.

After Joe’s detailed tour of his locker, he plopped down onto the little chair that sat in front of it. He looked up at me like he was expecting a question, but all I did was climb onto his lap.

Joe’s eyes widened, and he wrapped his arms around my waist. I leaned in, kissing up his neck, doing the same to his jaw, and then spreading sloppy kisses all over his smooth cheeks.

“Baby.” - Joe sighed

“You said we’re alone, right?” - you

I slowly started grinding down onto his crotch, while tracing the shell of his ear with my tongue, running it over his jawline, up his chin, and finally pressing a wet and thorough kiss to his lips.

Joe quietly whimpered into the kiss, the movements of my hips getting rougher once I felt something hard below me.

We were kissing like it was our first time tasting each other, pure lust radiating around us as our mouths sloppily moved against each other.

I stopped moving for a moment, moving around till my crotch was right on top of Joe’s hard bulge before I started rocking into him again.

“Fuck. Baby, you're gonna have to stop.” - Joe

“Why, Joey?” - you teased

“I’m gonna fucking cum if you don't stop. Please, stop.” - Joe whimpered

I got off of Joe’s lap a moment, a gush of wetness seeping into my panties as I looked at him in front of me. Joe looked like walking sex.

Fuck, him in that black compression shirt that made his sculpted chest and huge arms bulge out and those shorts that left nothing to the imagination. Joe’s shorts, and the fact that he was sitting, made his huge muscular thighs look fucking perfect. Not to mention the fact that his cock was almost busting out of his shorts. The cut-off football pants already accentuated his crotch, but now that he was hard, every detail of his huge dick was seeable.

Feeling a little bold, I got my phone out of my back pocket as Joe tried to calm himself down.

“Joe. Can I take a picture of you?” - you

“Right now?” - Joe

I nodded, and Joe shrugged, saying ‘I guess’ as I excitedly started directing him.

“Spread your legs more… oh, and put your hands behind your head.” - you

Joe did exactly as I had instructed, purposely flexing both his thighs and his biceps as he smiled for the camera. I bit my lower lip at the image that popped up on my phone. I need him.

“Joe?” - you

“Yeah?” - Joe

I slowly reached for the button of my jean shorts before undoing it, unzipping the fly, and letting them drop to my ankles. Joe’s heart rate picked up as he realized what was gonna happen.

“Are there cameras in here?” - you

“Uhm… I don't think so. Because of the showers.” - Joe

Slowly sliding my panties off, Joe groaned when I walked in between his parted legs and crashed my lips onto his. Joe lifted his hips, yanking his shorts and underwear down before reaching for his shirt.

“You better keep that fucking shirt on.” - you

“Yes, ma’am.” - Joe chuckled

I slid back onto Joe’s lap, hovering over him as I reached down and pumped his cock a few times.

“Baby, please. I need you.” - Joe whimpered

That’s all it took for me to quickly guide his thick tip to my entrance and sink onto him. When he bottomed out, Joe leaned forward and sucked on my neck hard, trying to stifle his moans.

I waited a couple of seconds before slowly starting to rock my hips back and forth. I moaned out from the fullness, Joe’s perfect dick stretching me out.

“Joe, fuck.” - you moaned

Joe reached for my hips, slowly helping me start to pull off and sink back down. His eyes were glued to the way my heat swallowed his thick cock, and it was driving him fucking crazy.

Soon, sounds of skin hitting skin started to fill the locker room as I set a hungry pace, riding Joe into oblivion as he struggled to stay quiet.

“Fuck, baby. You're such a- shit. That's it. That's my good girl.” - Joe whimpered

Joe was going crazy. The love of his life was fucking the hell out of him in the locker room of the NFL team he played for. He couldn't believe this was real life.

I pulled Joe’s head out of my neck and pushed him to where his back was flat against the chair. He looked a little confused, but I couldn't help but borderline drool over his perfect body.

“Put your hands behind your head.” - you

Joe’s eyes go wide before he does as asked, putting his hands behind his head in a way that makes his biceps bulge. He looks like a fucking greek god.

The sight of his thick and veiny arms made my core clench down on Joe’s cock. In response, Joe sucked both of his lips into his mouth, trying his hardest to stay quiet as his face scrunched up.

“Y/n, baby…” - Joe panted

Joe stayed in that position for a while before his arms started to get tired. He dropped his arms and leaned forward yet again. Joe nestled his mouth under one of my ears before he stopped holding back his sounds of pleasure, knowing how much I loved it when he was loud.

“Fuck- mmm, baby.” - Joe whimpered

“Holy shit, Joe.” - you moaned

A few minutes later, I noticed how Joe was starting to get louder. His chest was heaving, and sweat was dripping down his face.

“I’m close. Please… please.” - Joe

I moved faster on him, wanting him to cum for me. How could I not with how perfect he looked?

When Joe’s whimpers got louder, I moved my hands to his lower stomach, moving them under his shirt and running my nails on his lower stomach.

“Oh my god- I’m so fucking close.” - Joe whimpered

A minute later, Joe came, his body shaking as he emptied himself inside of me. Joe was moaning loudly through his whole climax, completely forgetting that we were in a public place.

It took him a couple of moments to collect himself, gaining his breath back, and once his head cleared up, he realized I hadn't finished yet.

Joe abruptly stood up and pulled out, man-handling me to be bent over with my forearms on the chair that he was just sitting on.

Out of nowhere, Joe thrust his entire length into me with no warning. I didn't even get time to adjust before he started moving, and he set a rough pace.

“Oh my god! Joey fuck.” - you whimpered

Joe only sped up, fucking me harder with the need to make me climax in the back of his mind.

“Come on, baby. Are you almost there?” - Joe

“Mm. Yes! Joey, please.” - you moaned

Upon hearing that, Joe started thrusting harder, which I didn't think was possible. Every thrust was hard, hitting that spot inside me each time with his tip.

It wasn't long til I was climaxing. Joe had pinched my clit and gave me a specifically hard thrust that sent me right over the edge.

I moaned his name through my climax, my core clamping down on him so hard that it sent Joe over the edge for a second time. Joe was a mess, whimpering loudly as he shot his second load.

What happened next was something I wasn't expecting at all. As Joe was coming down from his high, he laid a harsh slap on my ass.

Joe left his hand there, bringing his other one over to my other ass cheek as he grabbed two handfuls. That’s how he stayed for a while, letting his cock slowly soften before he eventually pulled out.

When he did, Joe walked over to his mini-fridge & microwave cubby, grabbing some paper towels to clean me up. When he was done with me, handing me back all of my clothes and helping me stand with shaky legs, he cleaned himself off.

Now that we were both fully dressed, Joe cleaned off the chair, doing an all-around assessment of the area to make sure everything was clean.

“I can't believe we just did that.” - you chuckled

“Me neither. That was intense.” - Joe

“Intense and so fucking good.” - you

Joe chuckled, holding me into him tightly as he rubbed his big hands over my back.

“What’re you gonna do with that pic you took of me?” - Joe smirked

In all honesty, Joe felt smug as fuck that I wanted that picture of him. All he could think about was the fact that I thought he looked so good that I needed a picture of it, and it was hard for him to pretend like it didn't give him a huge ego boost.

“Mm. I don't know. Maybe make it my home screen.” - you

“I don't know about that… maybe keep that pic in the hidden album.” - Joe chuckled

We continued talking for a few minutes before it eventually went silent. I was in a daze, staring at Joe and admiring his perfect face before a thought popped into my head.

“What’d you need to grab from in here?” - you

“Nothing. I brought you in here for a tour with hopefulness for a happy ending.” - Joe

“Joseph Lee!” - you giggled

Joe just laughed with me, wrapping his arms around my waist and rocking back and forth between his feet. His head was on my shoulder, his adorable laugh going right into my ear.

“I love you.” - you grinned

“I love you too. More than you can fathom.” - Joe

Authors note: I SPENT THIRTY MINUTES HAVING FUN ON THE PORSCHE WEBSITE.

Requests;

#joe burrow #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow series #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow smut

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jgracie · 6 months

Text

LEO AND Y/N’S GARAGE: AUTO REPAIR AND MECHANICAL MONSTERS

masterlist | rules

in which life after camp half-blood is everything you and leo could’ve wished for

pairing husband!leo valdez x wife!athena!reader

warnings none :)

on the radio . . . this is the life (amy macdonald), keep driving (harry styles)

an i read the bit w leo and calypsos repair shop in house of hades and knew what i had to do 👩🏼‍💻

Eventually, the scent of your lineage - half mortal, half Goddess - began to wear off. What once was the bane of your existence, singling you out as ‘different’ and putting you in danger from the moment you popped out of your mother’s brain, was now a faint odour, a mere memory of the life you once led and the people you knew.

Leo didn’t wear off, though. He could never. Your relationship had been unexpected by everyone who knew the two of you. Pristine, perfect Y/N, daughter of Athena, the girl who not only stayed within the lines but drew them herself, and Leo Valdez, a messy, wild son of Hephaestus. From the moment you laid eyes on him, you knew you wouldn’t stand him. He was persistent and annoying, never giving you a moment’s peace and tearing down the walls you so carefully built around yourself.

In the end, he grew on you, and you realised you had a lot more in common than you thought. For example, your love of machinery. For as long as you could remember, you gravitated towards wires and nuts and bolts, only stopping when you got to camp as your life became filled with training and learning about the side of the family you didn’t even know you had. You used to longingly stare at the Hephaestus kids, itching to pick up a wrench and join them as they made all sorts of weaponry. Now, you own your very own garage: Leo and Y/N’s Garage: Auto-repair and Mechanical Monsters.

It started off as a silly joke between you and Leo. You were newly graduated and after spending so much time taking care of the Godly side of your family, you forgot what life as a mortal was like. Sure, you always wanted to be a mechanic, but what now? You didn’t want to work for someone else. You spent your whole life working for other people and watching as everyone you loved had shrouds burnt for them (if they were lucky), so you thought it was only fair if you did something for yourself.

“We could always open our own garage,” Leo had said when you voiced your thoughts that day, “‘Leo and Y/N’s Garage: Auto-repair and Mechanical Monsters’ has a nice ring to it, right?”

You laughed, saying something along the lines of “get real, Valdez,” before deciding to help him as he cooked dinner. Little did you know, Leo was being real. The next morning, he started looking for places he could rent for your garage. A few months after that, he began furnishing it and months after that, he started advertising. Once he was sure that everything was perfect, he decided to show you his little project, a velvet box with a certain piece of very valuable metal weighing down his coat pocket.

Today marks the six year anniversary of the opening of your garage (as well as the six year anniversary of your engagement), and to say business was booming would be an understatement. It started off as a place for mortals only, they’d drop off their cars and the nicer ones would stay for a little to make small talk, marvelling at your stories of how you sailed from the US to Europe together on a ship Leo built himself (you censored a lot of your experiences, of course), but after you expanded the garage, making it almost twice as big as it was before, you thought, ‘Why not let this be a place for demigods, too?’

Hidden from the eyes of mortals, the second half of your garage comes to life. There, you sell weaponry, armour and anything a demigod could possibly need, as well as providing a safe haven for those who needed recuperation after a long and tiring quest. You loved meeting them all, giving them advice and comfort as proof that things do get better and not all demigods die at the age of 16.

“Leo, have you seen Espe?” You yelled, wiping the grime from your hands as you realised your daughter had gone missing. Your son was too young to be at the garage and usually you’d stay with him, but your hands were itching for a hammer and your dear sister and brother-in-law offered to babysit, so why not let them? Your daughter was another case. She seemed to have inherited her parents’ inability to sit still and love for making things, insisting on spending all her time at work with the two of you as soon as she could walk.

On cue, Leo waltzed into the mortal side of the garage, your first born daughter, named Esperanza after his mother, in one arm and a toolbox in the other. “She decided to amuse herself with daddy’s magic toolbelt,” he said, sitting down on a nearby stool and placing her on his lap, “summoned about 50,000 gummy bears. I’m surprised she managed to override the cooldown on it, I’ve been trying to figure that out for years”

“Gummy bear?” She asked, looking up at Leo then at you, a grin - one she clearly got from her father - gracing her lips as she suddenly seemed interested in your conversation, making the two of you break into fits of laughter, which in turn made her laugh. Did she know what she was laughing about? No, but it didn’t matter anyway.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, you were being watched. Sydney and Aaron, the two demigods you were hosting as the former’s leg healed, were going to tell you that they were good to leave tomorrow when they stopped, noticing you were having a moment.

“It’s hard to remember they’re demigods too,” Aaron began, “they seem so… normal. No chaos, no monsters, nothing,” he stared longingly at you, then down at the girl next to him. Could they have that too?

As if she read his mind, Sydney took his hand in hers and smiled, “we’ll make it, trust me. They went through a lot before this, remember? They were part of the last great prophecy. If they can do it, so can we.”

If you had told your past self that you’d marry the one boy who managed to get under your skin, start a family with him and open not just a garage, but a place where demigods could feel a sliver of normalcy, you would’ve laughed in your own face.

#leo valdez x reader #leo valdez x you #leo valdez x y/n #leo valdez #leo valdez x fem reader #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #leo valdez fanfic #pjo fanfic #percy jackson fanfic #leo valdez drabble #cynwrites

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violetflowerswrites · 2 months

Text

I Hate Motorcycles

Pairing: Jason Todd x GN Reader

Summary: The Red Hood saves you from a bank robbery gone wrong, and reveals that your best friend, Jason Todd, is back from the dead.

Word Count: 1.7k

Disclaimer: bank robbery, weapons (guns, gas, knives, mace, taser), minor injuries with mention of blood, mentions of kidnapping and stalking, reader swears like a sailor, loss and grief, attempted murder, angst, consensual kiss.

A/N: I’ve been reading Batman comics and the BatFam has just wrecked my heart! I wrote this in like an hour because I kept thinking about the emotional whiplash that is losing Jason and his unexpected comeback. I’m not an expert on DC comics and I’m not sticking to any specific storyline. Just a lil Drabble for fun. Enjoy!

“Are you fuckin kidding me?” You muttered under your breath as broken glass, screams of terror, and angry shouts crackled across the bank.

The one day you decided to beg for a loan from the city’s stingiest bank, it gets robbed.

Fan-fuckin-tastic.

Multiple assailants in ski masks shouted the usual—“hands up or we’ll shoot!”, “put the money in the bag!”, so on and so forth.

You could practically taste the caked on dirt of the discolored carpet as you pressed your face down, splayed out on your stomach with your hands up in surrender.

Carefully, your eyes trailed across the foyer, wondering if you could just casually dip a hand into your pocket and pull out your switchblade, or mace, or taser.

This was Gotham after all.

Everyone has to be prepared for the worst.

But, no such luck. There were 8 armed men with machine guns.

Huh. That seemed like overkill.

Unfortunately, you didn’t have time to process that thought when a bright green gas started to waft through the glass building.

Then, the unmistakable sound of giggling.

What the fuck?

On instinct, you army crawled towards the nearest broken window, desperate for fresh air. In the chaos of over fifty hostages suddenly caught up in raucous laughter, you managed to hold your breath and pull yourself up to the windowsill.

Immediately cutting your hands to a bloody mess.

Biting in a swear of pain, you persevered, hauling your body across the shards until you fell in a heap on the sidewalk outside.

Your breath came in dizzying gulps, but nevertheless, your gaze blurred as the exposure to the gas was rendering you unconscious.

Just before your eyelids shut, you heard an incredibly loud revving of an engine.

And saw a blurry red streak of a motorcycle sailing through the broken window and into the bank behind you.

Your last coherent thought was:

I fucking hate motorcycles.

…

The story of why you hated motorcycles was a simple, although tragic one.

Your father was a mechanic, a brilliant one, but poor. You grew up helping in the garage as much as you could, trying to make ends meet.

Then, your father started to take on jobs for vehicles that weren’t…normal.

Decked out motorcycle-turned-gliders, cars that could transform into boats, that sort of thing.

Soon enough, you weren’t so poor, but your father still kept up the appearance of just being another struggling business in the great city of Gotham.

You knew better than to ask questions.

Until one day, a boy came. He asked for a motorcycle in special colors—red and yellow and a hint of green.

By then it was obvious to you that your father—and by extension, you— were fixing up vehicles for none other than Batman and Robin.

The vigilantes, the crime-fighting heroes of your city.

It was inevitable that the two of you, being practically the same age, would strike a close friendship. If he wasn’t busy fighting who-knows-what in the dark alleys of Gotham, Robin would come over and spend hours with you working on his bike.

And he was such an asshole. A demanding, violent, arrogant jerk of a kid who wanted his motorcycle to be as deadly, dangerous, and fast as possible.

You, being an incredible mechanic like your father before you, took it as a personal affront to your pride. You constantly fueled each other, challenging each other to do better, be better.

And together, you were a formidable pair.

Until the Joker came.

And he was gone.

Batman lost his Robin, and your family soon lost its main source of business.

That’s why you were at the bank, trying to get a loan to cover the mortgage of your garage.

For years, you cursed Batman and his vigilante crew, blaming them for getting your best friend killed.

But, just as much, you blamed yourself. If only you hadn’t given him such a formidable vehicle, or hadn’t goaded him into fighting as violently as he did.

Maybe he wouldn’t have died.

So now, every motorcycle was a heart-stabbing reminder of him, and your failure to protect someone you loved.

…

You awoke to the feeling of someone placing a helmet on your head and lifting you up.

Firm hands wrapped your arms around a thick midsection, as your legs straddled a motorcycle.

Shit.

Someone was kidnapping you.

Before you could react, the wheels squealed and you peeled off into the rain-slicked streets of Gotham. Fear coursed through your now ice-cold veins and you shut your eyes, holding on for dear life as the rider pushed the vehicle ever faster.

After what felt like an eternity, you both finally stopped and you cracked open an eyelid to see a shocking sight.

Your garage.

Whoever took you knew where you lived.

Fucking hell.

This was worse than you thought.

Gathering your wits, you whipped out a knife in one hand and a taser in the other.

“Who the fuck are you?!” You screamed at your kidnapper. “How do you know where I live?”

“Ah—shit—this looks bad. Look, I’m sorry, I’m not trying to scare you—“ the man wore a red metallic mask, his voice altered by some kind of technology. He sounded more like a robot than a man.

“Yeah? Well you’re doing a piss-poor job of it. You got 3 seconds to explain yourself!” You lowered your stance, clearly ready to attack whoever this leather-clad stalker was.

”You got hit with laughing gas at the bank. It’s the Joker, he’s back, and I just couldn’t stand by while you were in danger. I couldn’t stand watching you from afar anymore.” The man stumbled through an explanation, backing up until his legs bumped into the motorcycle.

In a quick glance, you looked at the vehicle and immediately recognized it as one of yours. It was tricked out with fatter tires, a different front windshield cover, and red and black paint, but the engine, the shape of the body, that was undeniably your engineering.

It was Robin’s bike.

You rushed up to him, closing the distance and pressing the blade of the knife to the gap of skin between his black Kevlar turtleneck and his mask. Your other hand pressed the taser into an exposed seam between the armored protection on his side.

“Where the fuck did you get this bike?” Your voice dropped dangerously low, your tone seething with murderous anger.

In that moment, Jason could see in your gaze just how deeply the pain of loss ran through you. You were a mechanical genius, a competitive, intelligent, shit-talking inventor. But you weren’t a fighter. And you definitely weren’t a killer.

But, Jason knew that if he didn’t tell you the truth, you would have murdered him in cold blood on the steps of your home, without a single ounce of regret.

“Take off my mask.” He whispered, his Adam’s apple bobbing against the blade of the knife.

Your eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Why?”

“You need to know who I am.” He replied cryptically.

Jason could see the gears turning in your head as you realized that this mask-wearing fucker could be working with the Batman.

And good ol’ Bats wouldn’t waste a perfectly good bike, even if it belonged to his Robin, whom he treated like a son.

A now dead son.

Jason held his breath for a beat more as you considered his words, but curiosity got the better of you and you complied.

You eased up on the knife to use your finger to pull the mask off his chin, and it fell to the floor with a sharp clatter.

A second later, your knife and taser fell to the floor as well.

“Fuck.”

The single syllable popped out of your jaw-dropped mouth as you stumbled back as if Jason had shoved you.

It was him.

That unmistakable sheepish look of taking things just a little bit too far on his handsome face. A face now aged and scarred a bit, and a shock of white hair attached to his forehead.

“It’s me. I’m back.” He shyly smiled at you, shrugging his shoulders as if he didn’t just come back from the fucking dead.

An uncontrollable wave of rage washed over you and you recovered, your hands quickly forming fists which rain all over his chest.

“Fuck you! Fuck you, Jason! You fucking died! You have no fucking right to be here right now! You fucker!” Raw screams of grief and disbelief wrenched out of your body, as sound unrecognizable to you since the first days that you lost him.

Thought you lost him, forever.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Jason hugged you tightly as if he never wanted to let you go again. You didn’t realize that tears were streaming down your blotchy cheeks and were now soaking through the bullet proof vest on his chest.

“How? How are you here?” You spluttered through heaving lungs, trying your best not to break down into sobs.

“I’ll explain everything, I promise.” He ran a soothing, warm palm down your back. “But, there’s something I need to say, something I regretted not telling you before I died. And I’ve been thinking about it every day since I came back.”

His gaze down at you was soft, and you can see tears pricking the corners of his blue eyes.

“Say it, you fucking asshole.” You punch him one more time in the shoulder, but Jason could tell your heart wasn’t in that one.

With the gentlest smile you’ve ever seen from him, he opens his mouth and says:

“I love you.”

Your eyes widened in shock as those three words hit your ears, and your heart.

You didn’t realize you’d been waiting to hear that for years.

And you thought you never would.

Jason cupped your chin and lifted it to his, pressing his lips to yours and—fucking hell.

It felt like coming home.

…

#jason Todd #jason todd fluff #Jason Todd angst #Jason Todd fic #jason todd drabble #Jason Todd x reader #red hood #red hood fic #red hood fluff #red hood angst #red hood x reader #Batman #batfam #Batman and Robin #Robin

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stellewriites · 3 months

Text

firefighter!kyle x gn!reader

cw: johnny makes a quick remark about reader’s pussy when trying to be funny and to wind up kyle

part two to this - might make it a series and do a one shot for everyone

you swore as you looked up at your neighbour’s cat sat on a branch too high for you to reach, even with the rickety ladders you’d found in her garage.

“you did this on purpose,” you said accusingly from the ground, crossing your arms as you stared up at mr mistoffelees. it had been a stand off between the two of you for the last hour after he refused to come closer while you balanced unevenly half on the ladder and half in the tree.

you had been tasked with looking after the little furry bastard for your elderly neighbour while she went on a month-long cruise she’d won at her weekly bingo. it had been seven days of relatively smooth sailing on both sides, but it seemed misty had decided to end your streak when he made a break for it that morning just as you’d opened the front door, taking the chance to sprint up the nearest tree on the sidewalk, meowing and kicking up a fuss as you chased after him, spitting insults all the while.

despite all of your efforts over the last few days - and years prior living next door - mr mistoffelees seemed to hate your guts and had set out to make the time you spent with him in the morning and evening as close to living hell as he could. you’d never met a cat so particular and snooty.

you were just grateful it wasn’t a work day so you had the time to spare trying to bribe the ginger cat down from his perch, his bright eyes peering down his nose at you as you uselessly cooed and trilled and shook treats at him like a loon.

“please misty, my arms are tired and my neighbours have probably already lost all respect for me,” you groaned. it turned into a huff when he turned away to clean his paws, ignoring you again. “you win! there, happy? you furry little orange devil, you fucking win!”

throwing your hands up in defeat you slumped onto your neighbour’s garden wall and tried to ignore the giggling teens across the road enjoying your breakdown.

“you don’t live up to your namesake by the way, i remember the weird 2019 movie adaptation. that cat was nice,” you said pointedly. you paused to think. “and black and white, but that’s not the point.”

you pulled out your phone and skimmed the articles you’d pulled up advising you on how to get a stuck cat out of a tree.

misty wasn’t necessarily stuck, or it wasn’t yet confirmed that he was, but he wasn’t technically an outdoor cat either so you didn’t feel comfortable leaving him there to figure out his own way down. and you could tell if he was up there much longer he’d start to get antsy and as much as he got on your nerves, you’d never want him to get hurt.

you looked back down at your phone at the last option all of the articles suggested. you had plans that afternoon, and it wasn’t looking like your neighbour’s cat was moving anytime soon, so you were left with no other option.

“911, what’s your emergency? fire, police or ambulance?” the operator answered immediately.

you felt your heart race a little, nervous to have called when it didn’t feel like a real emergency.

“hi, uhm, i’m sorry. i think i need fire? my cat is uh, is stuck in a fucking tree,” you mumbled, contrite.

“no worries, we’ll have someone with you right away, what is your location?”

you spouted off your address and felt a little less tense at the reassuring tone the operator used before hanging up.

you weren’t waiting long before you saw the truck at the end of the street and you flickered your gaze up to your neighbour’s cat once more; part of you hoping he’d jump down so you could hide inside and pretend all of it had never happened and the other part hoping he didn’t choose this moment to move easily and embarrass you further in front of the firefighters. it already felt like a waste of time for them, that would just be the cherry on top.

the truck pulled up next to you and a handsome man with a mohawk leant out of the window and waved with a cheery smile.

“need a hand?”

“yeah, he’s being pretty stubborn about it,” you said and waved up at the tree, shuffling from foot to foot self-consciously.

“ah that looks like a job for our best man, don’ya agree, si? think this requires garrick’s expertise,” the man said again, smirking at the man sat next to him up front.

“seems right. never liked heights ma’self,” the other man, si, said deadpan.

you frowned, wondering how in the hell he managed to become a fireman if that was true, but before you could open your mouth the back door of the truck opened.

“alright, shu’rup already,” the handsome man said as he got out, rolling his eyes. “if you’re too lazy to do your job, just say so, ‘tav.”

“oi! i’d be happy to help the bonnie thing with their pussy, but ah thought you might appreciate stretching yer legs,” ‘tav huffed from the window.

you flushed at his words and looked back to misty with a new wave of bone tiredness waving over you.

christ alive. you didn’t have it in you to deal with handsome firefighters and dumb innuendos right now, thanks.

“sorry about him, we don’t usually let him interact with the public,” the firefighter from the back seat, garrick, said as he got to the tree next to you and you snorted. he introduced himself once your shoulders had lost their tense hold. “i’m kyle.”

you introduced yourself before waving up to the cat. “the shithead is mr mistoffelees.” at kyle’s raised eyebrows you flushed and silently cursed out your sweet, musical-loving neighbour. “not my choice of name. he’s not actually my cat either, i’m looking after him for my neighbour,” you said a little too quickly.

“ahh ok,” kyle nodded. he tested the balance of the ladders against the tree. “musical or book?”

“hm?” you frowned as he started to climb your neighbour’s unsteady ladders, already able to reach higher than you and willing to trust them to hold his weight on the highest step.

“your neighbour, is she a fan of the musical or the book? my mum used to love t. s. eliot, so i know probably more than i should about it,” he joked, slowly reaching his hand out for misty to sniff at.

“oh? i don’t know, i think it’s the musical,” you said, suddenly feeling wrong-footed for assuming that this handsome, burly man wouldn’t know shit about cats the 80’s hit musical. and it only got worse when your warning about mr mistoffelees was cut off by the cat himself. “he’s a little nervous around strangers, so he—.”

misty practically jumped into kyle’s arms at that, letting out a deep, dumbly purr as the man struggled to keep his balance for a moment before climbing down with a laugh.

that little furry shit.

not that you could blame him for leaping into kyle’s arms at the first chance. you finally took the time to look him up and down now that the cat was in safe hands. you let your eyes linger on his broad smile and kind eyes, his strong arms and hands that carefully cradled your neighbour’s cat close to a firm chest. his soft laugh further churned the fluttery feeling growing in your stomach and you cleared your throat when you remembered his squad still sat in the truck nearby, likely watching you gape and drool over their colleague.

“thanks,” you said, hoping you hadn’t been too obvious. “i think i’d have been stood here all day if you hadn’t have stopped by.”

“it’s what we’re here for,” kyle said easily, shrugging as he came to stand before you. “plus, it’s always easy when the callers are so pretty.”

“hah! right, yeah he’s a cutie,” you said and wiggled your fingers at misty, letting him bat at them.

kyle waited for you to look up before replying.

“i meant you,” he said a little sheepishly.

“oh.” you stared at him for a moment before misty interrupted, fussing and wiggling in his arms until kyle was letting him go to land on the floor. he trotted towards the front door, sitting expectantly as he waited for you to go open it for him, big eyes unblinking as he stared down the garden path at the pair of you.

“he seems like a handful,” kyle said.

“you have no idea,” you grumbled.

“well if you ever need a hand getting him out of a tree again, you should gimme a call,” kyle said with a hopeful smile. “or if you just wanted to go for a drink maybe?”

“i should… call you?” you asked, confused when he made no move to give you his number.

he nodded.

“like, how? on the emergency number?” you hinted.

“ah fuck,” he swore and patted at his pockets. you heard the scotsman laugh from the truck and hid your own teasing smile behind your hand.

“you can just put it in my phone,” you said and ended his misery trying to find his phone in all of his layers by handing him your own unlocked.

he took it with a grin. “text me, yeah?”

you nodded, biting your lip as you took your phone back. “yeah.”

“come on, gaz. you’ve saved the day, now move your arse!” a rough voice called from the truck.

you huffed a laugh and looked back to misty still sat at the front door, his expression getting sourer by the minute as he was made to wait.

“you should go,” you said with a nod to the truck before pointing over your shoulder at the cat. “and i should too.”

“yeah, ok, right. i’ll uh, speak to you soon,” he said as he walked backwards towards the truck.

“yeah, promise.”

you felt that fluttery feeling come back as you let mister mistoffelees into your neighbour’s house and waved at the truck as it drove off. the giddy excitement had your fingers and toes tingling in anticipation.

you grabbed a couple of treats for misty and put them in his bowl.

“quite the wingman when you want to be, huh, mistoffelees?” you said, looking at the new number in your phone and smiling when the ginger cat briefly brushed along your legs. “yeah, you’re not so bad.”

#i just really like the idea that gaz’s mum read to him as a kid growing up #and when they got through all of his books they moved onto some of hers #and old possums book of practical cats was one they went back to often bc of the rhymes and the drawings and the silliness #also a bit of shy gaz is good for the soul sometimes even tho i eat up confident kyle like it’s one of my five a day #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #stellewrites fics #gender neutral reader

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issdisgrace · 3 months

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A RIVALRY, A CRASH, AND 3 SIMPLE WORDS

WARNINGS: kinda sad, car crash, burning, hospitals, idk what else to put

A/N: This is for @marksbear2. I hope you like it. Also sorry it took a while I have been procrastinating.

You and Lando have been rivals since day one. Always trying to finish higher than the other, always trying to score more points than the other, and ALWAYS bickering when you weren't on track. Whether it was about the actual race or not, you guys always found an excuse to bicker.

And in hide sight it was so clear you guys were in love with each but neither of you knew what you were feeling towards the other and it was so confusing so it was just easier to fight with each other than figure out what you were feeling.

So you guys continued like this for a while as both of you climbed the ranks to Formula 1. And in the end of both were called up at the same time Lando of course to McLaren and you to Mercedes.

While so many things changed for the two of you and you now had to be more civil to the other than in prior years. Ultimately, that didn't change how competitive you guys were and it didn't change your bickering.

And from the very beginning of your guys' F1 careers there were bets in all the garages, included your guys on who would confess to who in the first place. The bets were split in almost every garage, but they more leaned to Lando, confessing first and boy where they wrong.

It was Monaco 2024. It was a race you guys did every year. You thought it would be just like last year's smooth sailing. You qualified good not as good as of course you wanted to but good none the less. Then the day came and with it came a deep dread in your stomach. Something bad was going to happen. You knew it.

Then Checo had his crash in lap 1 and that dread only grew stronger, so strong you thought you were going to throw up. But you pushed the feeling to the side and got ready to start up once again. Before you knew it was lights out and away you go again. It was lap 39, halfway through the race when engine trouble started.

Your team told you to stay out. That it would be fine and they would figure it out. That definitely didn't make you feel any better than before. Then at the beginning of lap 78 you were suddenly on fire, not smoking, not anything like that, on fire. Before you could think, you lost control and crashed into the wall others still flying by.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you tried free yourself from the car. You could see and feel the flames burning. It was burning through your suit. You couldn't feel anything as you continued to try to free yourself and just as freed yourself help arrived. Climbing out of the burning car, when you stumbled towards the medics. Multiple people with fire extinguishers put out the flames on your body.

It was only when you were loaded into the amblulance and on the way to the hospital when your senses returned. The overwhelming pain hitting you like a semi truck along with a putrid smell you thought was the smell of your burnt flesh. But you didnt really have time to fully process it because before you knew it you where at the hospital and being rushed into to surgery.

Lando was almost to the finish line when he heard over radios that you were on fire and then crashed. He felt like he was going to be sick, a thousand thoughts racing through his head. The loudest thought by far was you were going to die and he would never get to tell him he loved you. He was scared, no scared didn't even describe how he was feeling. He was petrified.

As he got out of his car and rushed to Zak Brown, the team CEO to get details of your crash and if you were ok. He told Lando you were ok as far as he knew. Lando felt a little better hearing that but he told Zak once podium was held he was going to that hospital to be with you. He didn't care of the consequence he needed to be there.

Zak being the man he was told Lando not to worry and he would handle the FIA if they gave him a hassle. Lando thanked him profusely before heading to podium.

It was over before Lando knew it and he was rushing back to his driver room to change, gather his stuff, and head to the hospital. Once he was there at the hospital, he rushed in and started asking about you. He lied when the nurse asked him what his relation to you was and said he was your husband.

The nurse told him that you were just prepped for surgery and were on the way to it. And it wouldn't be for a couple hours until you would be out of it. So he would have to wait until he was allowed to see you. He spent the next couple of hours pacing up and down the waiting room anxiously waiting for you.

It felt like a million years had passed before the nurse came and got him. He grabbed his stuff and quickly followed the nurse to your room as she told him the surgery went well and graphs were a success and that it probably be awhile until you woke up because of the anesthetic and the pain meds they pumped through your system.

His heart broke into millions of tiny pieces when he saw you in the hospital bed. He immediately made his way to your bedside and pulled the chair that was nearby towards you and sat down. He didnt even notice the nurse leaving as he gently grabbed your hand. It was now that all the tears he had been holding back started to flow and he ended up crying himself to sleep.

When Lando woke up, his head now rested on your chest as you combing your hand through his hair. He looked up at you surprised that you were awake. He pulled away from you question after question spewing from his mouth. You just hushed him and pull him back into. I love you; you said as you rested your head against his. I love you too; he said back as he wrapped his arms around you. His body would sure complain about the awkward position later, but he would deal with that later.

He needed this. You need this right now. You guys would talk about what your relationship was going to look now on later. You just need to be in the moment with each other.

#lando norris #f1 #lando norris x male reader #lando norris x reader #f1 x male reader #f1 x reader

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charles-leclerizz · 6 months

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EPISODE 01 : Start your engine

🏁 EPISODE AGE RATING : U/A 16+ [contaings swearing]

🏁 GENRE : Drama, Action, Sports, Romance

🏁 WORD COUNT : 10 K [ 10 , 366 WORDS ]

🏁 MUSIC SUMMARY : THE GREATEST BY SIA, PUMPT IT - BLACK EYED PEAS

🏁 CREDIT [S] : "BEHIND THE SCENES" BANNER, NETFLIX PLAY BAR BY ME [@charles-leclerizz], TEXT DIVIDERS BY @cafekitsune

🏁 TAGS : MUTUALS GET INSTANT TAGS [@vroomvroomcircuit, @disneyprincemuke, @verstappen-cult, @starkwlkr, @sailing-with-100-ships, @foreveralbon], OTHERS [@weekendlusting, @woozarts, @mellowarcadefun, @paintedbypoetry, @33-81, @kazuha-pista-badam, @inejghafawifesblog,d3kstar], IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED, PLEASE SEND IN AN ASK !

DIRECTORS CUT : first episode children, better get soome snacks and a drink, and i highly reccomend looking at the masterlist, aisha's profile and the porsche f1 team links, since they will explain everything. It is also recommendeed you first read the trailer, which is once again found on the masterlist below.

Masterlist · 🪷 Aisha · 🪷 Porsche F1 Team · 🪷

The opening credits of the series begin to play, revealing bold block letters reading,

“Bahrain 2025”

And in the background, the black fades to reveal an aerial view of the landmark circuit, a staple of the history that defines Formula One. As the shot zooms in, we see the morning mist rolling over the grey, freshly re-laid tarmac of the track leading up to the garages of each of the 10 teams, most of them shutdown and blocked away from prying eyes. Though, as the camera moves forward, the view widens and we can see at the very end of the line, the Porsche garage emitting a yellow glow.

The acrylic entrance leaks hues of gold whilst we finally approach the opening where we see Aisha jumping in place, a set of Bose x Porsche headphones sat on her ears, the white body and metallic automobile logo on the muffs bouncing with her movements.

She looks up from her focussed point beneath her, facing the camera that zooms in and captures the determined flare within the pools of her eyes.

The music, already beginning its powerful bass bursts, dims and briefly we can hear her laboured breathing as she stretches her hands above her and unzips the tight athleisure jacket that she had worn previously for warmth. The adidas logo crumples as she throws it away, revealing a cropped sports bra, white with grey stripes at the sides containing an embroidered Porsche logo on her left breast.

Soon enough, the music comes blaring back and the camera merely turns to follow her body as she begins to run away from the safety of her team enclosure. The scene ends with her exiting the shot, running down the initial straight of the first ever track she will race as a formula one driver.

“Aisha, what drives you in the world of Formula One?” A deep, cryptic voice off camera asks the driver sitting in shot. She smiles menacingly and leans back against her seat, her hands planted on her elegantly crossed legs as she adjusts the low cut, ‘V’ collar of her waistcoat, the colour matching the iconic Porsche guards’ red, of the rest of her risqué pantsuit.

“What drives me?” She chuckles, a low, raspy amusement that reverberates against the stormy backdrop behind her, “The competition, the domination, it runs in my blood;” She leans forward, as if the camera crew were privy to her obvious need to achieve. Aisha’s thin, golden bangles on each of her wrist’s jingle as she goes to adjust her volumous hair, “it’s not about the winning, it’s about obliterating the finish line.” She shrugs nonchalantly, despite the aggressive competitiveness that crackles in the air.

The voice chuckles at her threatening demeanour, yet continues, “Some media outlets commented on your driving style, since F2 and F3. They say it’s violent. What’s your response?”

Aisha bites her lip, thinking on the best way to diplomatically answer the question, despite her need to curse the people who doubted her.

Instead, she sighs with faux disappointment and her wide, mascara rimmed eyes move down to her rouge and gold nails whilst one of her fingers comes to slip beneath the platinum stud that sits comfortably on the left of her nose.

“Violent?” She asks, her voice barely above a murmur, “They could’ve been more descriptive.” She rolls her eyes once before inhaling, “Try...relentless. When I’m on track, behind the wheel, it’s war. And I aim to be the last one standing, if you can’t get with the program, move out the way. Cause I’m here to win.”

Her promise of no mercy is palpable as she shifts minutely in her seat, tapping her nails against one another whilst waiting for next question.

“What about the rest of the grid?” The interviewer prompts, treading carefully with his words, “Any words for them?”

Aisha scoffs under her breath, uncrossing her legs and flipping over the golden dainty necklace that rests within her exposed cleavage, the glinting logo of her team catches the light whilst she adjusts herself.

“Why words? They’ll know what I’m here for when I pass them. They’ll feel it, the fear, the resignation. I’m a whirlwind, all they can do is get swept up in it, this season, I am not racing against them, their teams or even their car; I’m racing against their hatred of losing to me.”

She smiles at the camera, eyes crinkling at the sides as her nose scrunches, a pure juxtaposition to the threat that peeled out of her mouth like scalding, hot water.

“Before we end. For your fans, what do you want them to know?”

“Hold on for your life, they’re about to witness history on the track. Cause I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to fuck shit up.” Aisha grins wickedly and laughing loudly at the flurry of reactions off camera from the crew that stood behind the myriad of wires.

Three different scenes are overlayed one another, the first being of Lewis Hamilton, giggling at someone off screen before focussing his large doe eyes onto the interviewer who also sat behind the large camera.

The second being 3X world champion Max Verstappen, who sits heavily onto the provided stool and sips at the can of the sugary energy drink in his hand, Max stared at the camera, a bored sheen coating his crystalline blue irises as the third, and final driver’s scene overtakes his.

This time Charles Leclerc enters the identical set, the Ferrari golden boy had narrowly escaped his fans-who’s screams of joy could be heard in the background as he waved a final time and pocketed a bright red, branded Ferrari pen whilst sighing, glancing around haphazardly.

“Lewis”

Hamilton perks up at his name, smiling serenely, prompting the interviewer to continue.

“The world of Formula one is ablaze about new entry, Aisha Patel. Do you think, as a seasoned professional, she has what it takes to compete?”

Lewis whistles lowly, leaning back against his seat and wraps his arms around himself, “Damn- starting strong huh?” He snorts once before re-adjusting his posture, “Y’know, we’ve heard of her up here. And she’s talented, but obliterating F3 and F2 does not directly auto-translate to domination on our track.”

“Is that scepticism that I hear?” The interviewer chases after the hesitation in the driver’s voice, like a dog after a juicy bone.

“Call it...” Lewis arches an eyebrow as he mulls over his words, “Healthy cautiousness. I’m waiting to see how she handles the pressure after the lights go out.”

“Max”

Max hums lazily, as though he had one too many bubbling seltzers that sat, pristine on the refreshments table, “Yeah?”

“Aisha Patel.”

Max clenches his jaw at the sound of her name.

“She’s said to rival your aggressiveness on track, what are your thoughts on her joining your world?”

Max scoffs at the seemingly preposterous statement, “What about her? She’s aggressive, so what? It’s skill that matters here in the big leagues. Give a baby a steering wheel to a supercharged car, that’ll be aggressive. I’m not holding my breath for her. “

“That sounds like someone who’s threatened?” He probes the already on edge driver.

“A threat?” Max chortles as if someone had offered him a mere penny for his thoughts, “I haven’t been threatened since kindergarten. I’ll let her have her try at the status quo, take one for the team and all.”

“Charles”

The alarmingly red adorned man tilts his head inquisitively at the interviewer, his gentle smile popping his dimples.

“Miss. Patel has been said to be relentless on track, throwing caution to the wind. Your thoughts on her violent debut?”

Charles hums as he nods his head, “It’s nice to see fresh blood on track, bonne, she’s certainly caught people’s attention. Let’s see if she’s all bark and no bite.” He mummers the French praise before shrugging at the end of his sentence.

“You’re excited to compete against her?”

“Of course- who wouldn’t be? New team, new driver. The more varied the sport, the more interesting.” He answers neutrality laced into his words, despite the excited glint in his eye.

“Thank you for your insights.” The interviewer thanks the men in their tapes, each of them reciprocating with equal politeness.

“Of course,” Lewis grins and claps his hands, turning to start chatting once again as he dismounts from the chair, already walking away.

“No problem,” Max nods his head once, stepping down from his seat whilst receiving a fresh can of Red Bull.

“Cheers mate,” The camera captures Charles leaning forward to shake the interviewer’s hand whilst patting his shoulder, before detaching to go and talk to the gaggle of Ferrari personnel who had gathered within the filming shed.

The 2025 drivers had gathered onto the Bahrain track, the relentless mid-day sun beating down on them as a few of them had the pleasure of black umbrellas being held above them, whilst other’s held small hand-fans in the large palms, basking in the cool breeze that the battery powered trinket provided.

Aisha walked out, her racing shoes tapping against the tarmac as she made her way towards the others. A few Porsche employees trailed behind her, one of them stayed closer behind her, offering her a metallic, grey hand-held fan along with a chilled bottle of water.

“Thanks,” She murmured, brushing the hair that managed to escape her ponytail, “It’s fucking boiling.” Aisha complained, tugging at her fireproofs whilst another employee came up to her, patting her face with a setting powder as an attempt to dry her skin.

“Can’t really help it, love.” The media admin, Sarah, pointed out removing her focus from one of the jittery interns to the driver, “Now- you’re going to walk out, fans are going to see you. Are you sure you don’t want to hide your face right now?”

Aisha cracked open the bottle in her hand, having pressed the condensation coated plastic against her forehead long enough. She faced away from 2-3 people surrounding her to peak past the acrylic barrier, onto the track, where the rest of the drivers stood haphazardly scattered around the starting position boxes that had been freshly painted onto the concrete polymer.

“It’s fine, I think I’ve already heard all their opinions on me.” Aisha groaned, fanning her face again as she kicked a non-existent pebble beneath her toe, “What could go wrong?”

She peaked out again, like a tense meerkat, only to be surprised with her teammate, Pierre chatting with his former partner, Esteban Ocon. His racing suit was already zipped up fully as he basked in the fan’s unintelligible shouts and squeals, the thick, grey fabric stretched over his body nicely as the different sponsor logos morphed to the wrinkles and dents of the cloth.

“He’s already out there.” She hissed, “Making me look like shit.” Aisha banged the back of her crown against the wall that provided her with the much-needed shelter, from both the sweltering rays and the assessing gazes of the crowd above.

“Nonsense lovey.” Sarah assured her, picking at the hem of her fireproofs and pressing a few of the sweaty, stray strands of hair back into position, “Pedro’s just catching up with some friends.”

“Pierre.” Aisha corrected, pulling up her identical suit from hanging lowly from her waist to her shoulders, thankfully she still had time to leave it unzipped.

“Whatever.” She flapped her hand dismissively, “Baguette man isn’t doing anything you won’t have to.”

“Okay,” Aisha breathed out, keeping her lips taught and still as her rouge lipstick was touched up by another Porsche jersey adorned worker, “My helmet?” She looked around, patting herself, as though it would appear out of thin air.

Sarah looked around her surrounding, panicked, before snorting and pointing to the ledge behind the group, “There ya go babe.” She leaned past Aisha to knock on the head gear.

“I’m a mess,” Aisha whined, picking up her helmet whilst rubbing the glossy exterior with an open palm, she runs her fingers over her last name that’s printed on the back.

“A hot mess.” Sarah corrected her, hooking their elbows together whilst ushering forward the teenage interns next to them- their hands shaking with apprehension as they gripped the phones in their hands, the gadget recording each moment.

Aisha stilled slightly as her foot contacted the tarmac, the crowd already hushing with undivided interest on her mere shadow. She could feel anxious sweat begin to build up on the nape of her neck, flushing her face and glistening against her skin.

Finally, after a few minutes of inner turmoil, she allowed Sarah to guide her out within the crowd of other team’s media escorts and her fellow drivers. The grandstands erupted with chaos, the rushing of footsteps- scrambling to take the first photos of her in her debut, the unravelling of flags, the patriotic colours burning against the pristine plexi-glass barriers and multiple little girls shouting happily at her image.

Aisha forced a smile onto her face, the unexpected praise soothed her blushing ears as she waved up at the viewing boxes.

“Well, well. Nobody’s ever screamed like that for me.” A voice creeped up behind her, causing Aisha to whip around with a cautionary hand on her chest.

A cheeky grin greeted her, “Lando” Aisha breathed out, leaning to the side of his stature to acknowledge the rabid paparazzi behind of them with a tight-lipped nod.

“Hey,” He greeted her, bouncing on the balls of his feet and tapping the top of his helmet that sat squeezed between his arm and waist, “You nervous?” Lando tipped his head boyishly, his curls falling over his forehead, hazel eyes softening as he watched her.

“Not really,” Aisha lied, “do you need to pee?” She looked at him anxiously, watching as he stopped bouncing like a full bladdered toddler, and stood still. Lando chuckled under his breath and opened his mouth to answer, until he lurched forward under the weight of a heavy arm that hung from his shoulders.

“Little Lando Norris.” Daniel chuckled, rubbing his knuckles over the younger’s head, and snorted when Lando pushed his hand away stumbling out from his hold, “Already chatting up the newbie?” Daniel looks at Aisha with a smirk, “I think his pubes finally grew in.” He faux whispered, his voice gritty as he winked.

“I’m not chatting up anyone,” Lando smacked Daniel between the eyes before walking backwards, next to Aisha, “Just catching up.” He shrugged, side-eyeing her, gauging a reaction from her steely expression. Luckily, he got one, Aisha’s eyes widened slightly, her eyelashes fluttering to match her hearts faster pace as she slowly turned her head to meet his eyes.

“Catching up?” Daniel inquired, suddenly interested, “You guys know each other from before?”

“Yeah, we karted together.” Aisha crossed her arms over one another, before accepting a cold can of thumbs up from a staff member, “Still remember how he shit his pants.” She mumbled.

“I did not!”

“What the fuck.”

Both men exclaimed at the same time, Lando blushing a furious red and Daniel cackling loudly- leading to not only the attention from the other drivers that stood in a 200m vicinity but also Aisha snorting out her drink from her nose.

“I did not shit my pants.” Lando gritted out the last part, to stop prying ears of the other men approaching to become privy to his humiliation.

“You did though?” Aisha arched a brow at him, “I passed by you on the last lap, therefore winning-“ She poked her outstretched pinkie from her can into his puffed up chest, “And that made you so mad, that you shit your pants.”

“Oh god,” Daniel wheezed, taking support on his shorter teammate who had trotted up to join the conversation. Yuki scrunched up his face, tilting away from the force of the elder before looking at Aisha sympathetically,

“You excited?” He grinned slightly, showing off the gap between his front teeth.

“Definitely. How could I not be?” Aisha looked down at Yuki, shifting her weight slightly as an attempt to lower herself, “The crippling pressure? The thousands of viewers? The weight of both of my country’s on my shoulders?” Aisha blew a nonchalant breath from between her lips whilst waving her hand in front of her face, “No biggie.”

The three men stared at her, blank expressions on their face, one of them pressed their lips together, smacking them and creating an equally awkward “popping” noise for the group to bask in.

“I meant more like, the race and stuff..” Yuki mumbled, scratching the back of his head before yelping when Daniel smacked the nape of his neck, “But yeah, what you said works too, fo sho, no doubt, no doubt.” He corrected himself hastily.

“Fo sho?” A fourth voice chimed in, this time with a French lilt to his words, “Who’s got yuki talking like that?”

Aisha looked away amusedly from the smaller driver to the voice, her eyes widened at the blaring red that adorned the man in front of her.

“My period wasn’t due until after the race.” She commented, meeting the man’s intense gaze, “Are you here to ask if I’d like to continue watching?” She tilted her head innocently.

“Ah, I see.” He scrunches his nose at her, “You’ve got our baby Yuki talking like that.”

“Hey, fuck you man.” Yuki protested, throwing his arms up with a huff.

“I know you want to,” The seemingly french-man retorted back with a shameful wink,

“You wink like you’re trying not to cry.” Lando pointed out.

Aisha clapped her hands at her revelation, “That’s what it looked like!”

Lando shrugged, as though it was obvious.

“Okay I’m sorry, I’m not here to start the next French revolution or whatever-“ She mumbled, holding out a polite hand as a civil greeting.

Though, she was not met with his acceptance immediately, instead the three men surrounding her grimaced and hissed through their teeth- Daniel shook his hand out like he had just burned himself. Aisha looked around, oblivious to the reason for their reactions and jolted her hand out to the man.

“I’m from Monaco,” He snarked, accepting her hand begrudgingly, “Not France.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” She shrugged in reply.

“Charles” he gritted out, squeezing Aisha’s hand tightly- a poor attempt to veil his distaste, “Charles Leclerc, Ferrari driver.”

“Really?” Aisha squeezed harder, taking a step back to roll her eyes over his bright red suit, “Couldn’t tell.” She snorted.

“Right, well” Lando coughed, reaching forward to peel away both of their hands simultaneously, “This was fun. Meeting new people.” He took Aisha’s hand in his but dropped it quickly when she looked down at their conjoined fingers. Lando coughed, the tips of his ears blushing a furious scarlet, before he shifted to glance at his oh-so-interesting boots.

Luckily, the situation was saved by one of the administration workers clapping their hands and speaking robotically into a megaphone, “drivers, please make your way to your positions.”

The seasoned drivers around her began to exit their conversations and walk towards the bleachers style setup at the start line of the circuit. At least 12 black, metallic chairs sat in a row behind a small plaque, displaying bold white font that detailed the circuit name and the iconic formula one logo sprawled along the edges of the display board.

“Didn’t need this fucking helmet.” Aisha hissed to herself, jogging to one of the Porsche employees that stood at the edge of the camera shot, handing off the piece of equipment, before making her way back to the crowd.

She zipped up her suit and removed the piece of elastic from her hair, letting the noir waves fall down her shoulders as she scanned the already in place men in front of her, thankfully Pierre waved at her and ushered for her to take place next to him, standing behind the pair of Mercedes drivers who were snickering at some joke the other had just told.

Aisha huffed, clasping her hands behind her waist whilst jerking her head side to side due to odd strands of hair tickling her eyes and nose, before she could exasperatedly wipe her face with her hand, a pair of fingers had come and brushed against her nose. Aisha minutely followed the soft pads across her cheek before trailing her gaze up to the origin, Lando met her eyes, his own irises blown out as his hand lingered by her cheek- his thumb twitching across her skin before he coughed and re-took his position.

“Thank you,” She murmured beneath her breath, neutralising her face against the onslaught of obnoxious camera shutters and piercing sun rays.

“No problem,” Lando nodded slightly, his eyes flicking back to her face, tracing her features with his shy stare, “You did great in qualifying, yesterday.” He hastily complimented.

Aisha tried to fight against the blush that made its way up her neck, “thank you,” she snipped, pressing her lips together as a futile attempt at hiding her girlish smile.

Lando huffed out a laugh, turning his neck to grin at her, “anytime.”

Finally, the pictures had come to a stop, and the long-barrelled cameras were packed away and the grid were herded to a large, open roof truck. Another admin worker trailed behind the last driver into the pen-like vehicle, stepping up the stairs to hang back from the railing after locking the gate, “everyone’s here?’ she asked, giving a once over the flocked in men, and woman.

“Aisha, you’ll be first to talk to Lawrence,” She met eyes with Aisha, who was already waving to the rowdy fans who had collected at the banisters of the grandstands, “And then it’ll be whoever’s closest.”

The lady nodded once when the drivers thanked her, then she caught Aisha’s gaze again and she smiled reassuringly, “See you guys around.” She waved and dismounted from the railing with a jump.

The large platform began to move as the truck silently hummed to life, Aisha moved from her comfortable position at the back of the area-leaning against the matte, black railing towards Lawrence who smiled excitedly at her approaching figure. As she knitted through the small groups of 3 drivers littered in her path, she continued to wave at the fans who shouted and screamed at each subtle view they managed to glimpse of her.

“Aisha! Hi!” Lawrence greeted her, offering his hand for her to shake and swivelled around to collect a microphone.

“Hello, hello.” Aisha grinned back, accepting the long piece of tech from him, comically rotating it in her hands observing the porous black material that had been painted with a flaring red to create the F1 logo.

“So, you’re finally here! The big leagues, and yesterday’s qualifying must’ve been very exciting. We’ve all been so blown away with Porsche’s car, and your performance. P5 ! Amazing. Walk us through what you’re feeling right now?”

“I mean, it’s a confidence booster of course, qualifying top 5- but I think that along with that it’s proving to myself and other little girls like me that it isn’t about who you are, but what you can do, regardless of gender or background.” Aisha nods once, leaning her elbow against the railing to crane her neck around and take in the track that lay ahead of the speedily moving vehicle.

“It’s great that you can showcase your talent and inspire young minds, but with that said- there’s obviously a pressure that comes with entering such a male-dominated sport.”

Aisha stilled slightly, her eyes wide and unblinking for a beat, “I mean, there’s always going to be extra expectation on you when you’re breaking barriers. The way I see it, this is an opportunity to pave the way for future generation, so really, its fuels my success and goes to show that gender or race, doesn’t correlate to your ability on track.”

“Well said, and while we’re on the topic of your determination, whilst being in the spotlight almost 24/7 and the battles on track, how do you maintain focus? It must be overwhelming.”

Aisha chuckled, turning to look at the other drivers, a few of them had tuned into her interview not-so-subtle whilst others were still deep in conversation, “I mean, when you’re battling against jumbo sized toddlers, and then being put under the loving spotlight of the media, I agree, it can be pretty overwhelming sometimes. But then I remind myself, why am I here? What am I here to do? And at the end of the day, it’s just me, the car, and the track, so I really don’t mind it too much.”

She shrugged at the end of her sentence, flipping her hair over her shoulder before unzipping the thick race suit. Revealing her tight, fireproofs beneath, the Indian flag sat proudly on her shoulder whilst her team logo lay sprawled across her chest along with the sponsor logos littered across the rest of her front.

“You make it seem so easy Aisha,” Lawrence laughed, oblivious to the tension that had gathered in the young woman’s shoulders and the tightness of her eyes that had increased tenfold throughout their conversation, “Last question before I let you go, to all of your young fans gathered here today-“ he pointed up to the bleachers that came into view on the straight that the truck was approaching, where multiple younger children stood, jumping in their spots as their Porsche hats bobbled on their heads, “-what would you tell them? Especially those who are most likely facing challenges in their racing journey?”

Aisha smiled serenely, imagining herself in the seats that sat so far away from her, what her younger self would long to hear to make her racing career just a little bit easier, “To all the younger dreamers, never let anyone else tell you your limits. They may say to stop, but you need to believe that you can keep going. Chase your passions relentlessly because if you do, then the only barriers will be the ones we allow ourselves to see. Keep fighting, because one day, you’ll see that you’re right where you need to be.”

“Wow” He sighed, hand on his heart, “That inspired me.” Lawrence laughed heartily, “Finally, maybe just a few words in your native language, now from what I know you spent at least 3 years living in India? For your education?” He looked at her questioningly, waiting for her response.

Aisha nodded happily, “Yes, I did! so you want a message in Hindi? There are so many languages in my country, but sadly I’m only fluent in Hindi, despite being Gujarati myself.”

“That would be great, please do.”

“Sabse pehle, main apne sabhi fans ko bahut saara pyaar dena chahti hoon. Aap log mere liye inspiration ho, aur main hamesha aapke saath hoon. Aap sabka support mere liye bahut important hai, aur thank you kehna chahti hoon.”

[First of all, I want to give a lot of love to all my fans. You are an inspiration for me, and I am always with you. All your support is very important for me, and I would like to say thank you.]

“Amazing, thank you so much Aisha,” Lawrence gently took the microphone away from her and offered a grateful smile before looking towards Fernando who had made his way towards the pair.

“No problem,” Aisha stepped away, patting the eldest driver’s back once before turning away and making her way towards Lando, who had already been looking towards her, waiting for her to approach him, along with Oscar and Logan who were engrossed in conversation.

The scene fades away from the three seasoned drivers and in the blackness another title appears, “RACE DAY” and following this the Porsche garage is finally revealed for the first time, much like the other teams the hard acrylic surfaces were decorated with the team colours and many engineers, technicians and workers were rushing around whilst other’s begaan to detach the hydraulic tubes from the cars in preparation for the first race of the season.

Before the first car revved up with anticipation, the halo was shown displaying the driver number and surname, “GASLY 10” and with that, the tubes were removed and the driver’s engineer pulled away, removing the iPad from Pierre’s gloved hands, allowing him to speed off towards his starting position.

The camera pans over to the second car that is yet to exit the garage, the driver within seemed to be hurriedly re-reading the car statistics, consuming that data over and over again, the scene rotates from the back of the car towards the front, where from beyond the middle column of the halo we get a glimpse of the large helmet following her heads sporadic movements, the Indian and British flag printed onto the front side of her head gear, peeped in and out of view as she handed away the tablet and she pulled on her gloves that lay waiting on the chassis in front of her.

With a confident thumbs up, she followed one of the Porsche employee’s guiding movements towards the other racers who sat in their cars, waiting for the start. Maintaining an even pace, she passed by the other cars, the exposed carbon fibre of Esteban’s Alpine in P10 and bright orange of Oscar’s McLaren in P7. She found her box waiting for her car as she pulled in and slowly removed her foot from the acceleration as she joined the grid in waiting for the formation lap.

The music faded away, to allow Aisha’s monologue to play over the still of the onboard camera, “This is it, I thought to myself, all the years of hard work and sacrifices have led up to this moment. This isn’t like F3 or F2-“ the live replay of the sleek interior of her F1 car is replaced by exhilarating moments of on track battles from her previous racing leagues, “- this is F1, where dreams are trampled on and shattered if you can’t keep up.” Her voice trembles slightly as we hear her take a deep breath in and the cars are overtaken with a new scene.

We see Aisha, in the same deep red sultry pantsuit, her side profile contrasted in the shadows as her chest rises and falls, “I remember the moment exactly, I told myself ‘Aisha, soak it in, the cheers and the feeling of other’s dreams, their expectations, cause it can make or break you.” She laughs incredulously at herself, “dramatic I know.”

“But it was electrifying, the whole thing, the thrum of the engines, the anticipation. I have never felt anything like it. But it’s everything I’ve trained for and everything I’ve wanted since I was little and racing go-karts.” Snippets of the raging, overwhelming sound of spluttering go-karts overtake the screen as one after another, we see young Aisha, drowning in an oversized sponsored uniform cut through the chequered ribbon.

“To the other drivers on the grid, it’s just the first race of the season, but for me, it’s my debut, it’s the first and only chance to prove that I’m meant to be here.” Aisha claps her hands, and the bursting flashes of her karting days cease, and we’re brought back to her, sitting in the tall stool, legs crossed over elegantly as she waves her heel back and forth, “The countdown began, and it’s lights out and away we go.”

The red lights above the Bahrain track fade away one by one, Crofty’s voice is matched with hers, and just as the sound of the engines crescendo, the scene ends.

“Right Lando- “

The young British man makes his way into the stool, wobbling slightly as he flails his hands before rocking back to stability. He lets out a relieved breath and crosses his arms over his chest, his fingers absent-mindedly playing with the golden, volt bracelet on his wrist the Luis Vuitton logo glinting in the light from his absent-minded movements.

“Hi, yes, I’m here.” Lando looked up at the interviewer, his eyes bouncing between the 3-4 different camera’s capturing him from odd angles, “Which-“he pointed at one of them, “-which one am I looking at?”

The interviewer laughed before leaning forward and tapping the lens of the middle-most camera, “This one.”

Lando breathed out, “great” before adjusting the pillowing fabric of his hoodie and stared straight into the glass barrel in front of him, “I’m Lando Norris, and I race for McLaren Formula one team.”

“We ehm we didn’t need that. It- it’s different from Drive to Survive,”

Lando cringed and rubbed the back of his head, causing the bracelet to ride up beneath the sleeve of his hoodie, “My bad- “

“Don’t worry about it, Now-“The sound of cue cards being shuffled could be heard, “Onto the first question, we’ve heard rumours about you and Aisha, especially during your karting days, care to elaborate?”

Lando sucks air through his teeth as he smirks, “Me and Aisha…” He looks down to his hands, fingers finding purchase on the angled charm of his bracelet, “We go way back, I mean, it was either me or her who were winning the races, she was,” He sighs heavily, his eyes starry as he looks back up to the camera, “She was, no, she is everything.”

“Can’t help but notice the bracelet that you have on, anything significant?”

“It’s symbolic, I guess?but nothing too big.” He shrugs it off, hiding away the jewellery from prying eyes.

The interviewer presses their lips together, humming whilst shuffling the cards once again, “Right, of course, but some fans have already started to notice that you and she are…close.”

“Close? We’ve always been close, it’s like electric with her, it’s hard not to be attached to her talent.” Lando smirks playfully, winking at the camera, “Karting with her was so intense, we pushed each other to the limit, and I will always hold her and those memories close to my heart.”

“Seems like obsession,” They laugh.

“Oh, it most definitely is, I mean, have you seen her?” Lando flourishes dramatically with his hands, as though the woman was sitting right next to him.

We are brought back to the first driver’s briefing of the season, mere days before the Bahrain Grand Prix, Aisha had just sat down next to Pierre and began to chat amicably with her new teammate, bouts of laughter erupting from the pair momentarily.

The camera pans from the bonding partners to Lando, still hiding his head between his palms in embarrassment, though from between his ringed fingers we see his emerald irises peeking through the gaps, staring thoughtfully at the enrapturing driver who was currently fiddling with the van clef, indigo bracelets that shimmered around her wrist.

Oscar, who was also curiously watching the woman jogged Lando, snapping the man out of his trance, “Mate- you’re drooling,” He poked his teammate’s cheek.

Lando slapped away the finger that prodded his face, “I am not.”

“Whatever you say,” Oscar hummed, turning his attention back to the administrator who was flipping through a few data filled papers, bringing their mouth closer to the bendable microphone. Oscar leaned into Lando, bumping their shoulders together, “Just be careful.”

Aisha breathed out a sigh, capping the black, matte Bulgari pen, slipping it into the awkwardly small purse that hung from her shoulder. She slammed the driver’s door of her car, having just finished a load of signing and smiling with fans, her main objective was to get through the security scanners peacefully.

“Hey stranger,” A voice came up behind her, tapping her arm.

“Lando,” Aisha tried to contain the quiver in her voice, “I thought you already got in.” She adjusted the neckline of her top, the tight sleeves hugged her shoulders and left her skin exposed to the warm sun.

“I did, I just needed something from my car and then I saw you,” He grinned at her, tapping his key card against the scanner, walking seamlessly through the rotating barrier, “You look like you’re about to walk a runway.”

Aisha laughed, tucking a straightened lock of hair behind her ear, “Thanks, you look…” Aisha assessed his outfit, a pair of light blue baggy, Levi’s and one of his own merch hoodies, “normal.” She cringed at her unnecessary honesty.

Yet, Lando just laughed and nodded his head in agreement, “Yeah- compared to you.”

Aisha continued to walk through the paddock, the British driver at her side whilst she waved to those personnel that passed by. She looked down at her own clothes, a neat, navy, off-the shoulder top that hugged her chest in all the right places was tucked into a grey mini-skirt, compliments of one of the many brand ambassadors of her team, the item was paired with a thin brown, gold buckled belt along with knee-high go-go boots.

“You could say that” She conceded, adjusting the golden Porsche chain that clung to her neck, “I was wondering…”

“Yeah?” Lando pocketed his hands.

“I you wanted to get dinner. For old times’ sake?” Aisha leaned forward on one foot, tilting her head hopefully before coming to a stop and waiting for his response.

Lando beamed widely, his eyes sparkling, “Definitely, I would be an absolute idiot to turn you down.”

Aisha blushed and looked down at the bracelets on her wrist, multiple layered golden chains which reflected light against her face in the most euphoric way, “Great, I’ll ju-“

“AISHA, oh my god it’s really her, AISHA!”

A shrill, young voice erupted from behind the pair, and a group of 3-4 young girls came running up to the pair. Aisha laughed to herself, plucking out the pen once more.

“Hello,” Aisha greeted the pre-teens who surrounded her, two of them dressed in a signature papaya orange whilst the other two sported metallic, silver Porsche merch, “You guys look so good!”

She accepted the hats and odd poster that the girls shyly handed her, “We’re so excited to see you race! You’re the only one who looks like us.” One of them spoke, her copper toned, youthful cheeks bobbed up with her smile as her long, black ponytail weaved with her excited movements.

“That’s so sweet, I think I might just win the race for you.” Aisha opened her arm for the girl to step into as they took a photo.

“Ehm, Lando, could we get an autograph as well,” Another one asked, already unfurling a second poster along with presenting the enraptured male with a sharpie.

“Absolutely! How could I resist?” Lando accepted the pen and began to sign the poster along with some newly presented items that the other two girls had produced.

“Thank you, guys, so much!” Aisha waved off the girls and turned back to Lando, already handing over her phone for him to enter in his number.

The young fans were squealing on their way back to their parents, who were just as excited for their young daughter’s interaction, “Did you guys see the bracelet?”

“What bracelet?” Another one asked, carefully rolling up her poster and handing it to her father, who tucked it under his arm and offered his hand for her to take.

“Lando’s, the one he wore for the whole of last season…” She adjusted her cap, looking confusedly at her three friends.

“Oh…I didn’t.”

“Neither did I.”

The screen faded away from Lando, sitting with his teammate whilst gawking at Aisha and we’re brought back to the present, the on-board camera of the Porsche is aimed at the lights that have just gone dark and all at once, a symphony of rubber against concrete fills the scene.

Aisha navigated turn one with ease, emerging from the throng of cars still in P5, her grip tightened on the steering wheel as she focussed every ounce within her body on the track ahead. The bright spotlights above her cast a blinding hue over the grandstands, illuminating the eager fans from around the world, their flags waved in their air as they watched with anticipation when she approached Lewis from behind, pressuring the world champion ahead as they weaved into the next turn.

Aisha aimed for the apex, seeing the slightest gap for her to slip past, as she pointed the head of her car towards the opening, she held her breath and pressed on the throttle. Aisha lurched backwards as she could feel the crackles of her under-board hit the track with each increase in speed she made, yet she managed to dodge the Mercedes car and fly down the straight, maintaining her tyres as best as she could.

The radio thrummed to life in her ear as her race engineer, James, began to speak, “Great work with Lewis, already around 1.15 behind you. Take care of your tyres for now and defend.”

Aisha breathed heavily as she continued to meet the corners and walls with barely an inch to save herself as a highly effective attempt to prevent more overtakes, “Got it.”

She continued her pace throughout the laps, the continuous build up over 20 rounds had inched her closer and closer to Carlos who was struggling in P3, his braking getting worse and worse with each sharp turn.

“James- how much closer do I need to overtake?” Aisha gritted out, flitting her eyes to the large, white metallic DRS sign that entered her limited field of vision.

“Only a bit more Aisha, it’s time to push.”

Aisha stepped harshly onto the gas, her engine thrumming all around her as she charged closer to the bright red Ferrari ahead. She could see the rubber of the tyres in front burn and smoke with every swerve. The roar of her engine filled her ears, drowning out the noise of her own heartbeat as she braced herself for the challenge, “Here we go,” she murmured, voice firm and steely with determination.

She surged her car forward, pushing her machine to the limit as she matched Carlos’ pace with precision and determination, the desert heat bore down in mirage-like waves as the two drivers danced on the razor’s edge of competition. One by one measly lap, the distance shortened until they were wheel to wheel, and all Aisha could do was grit her teeth until she could taste the tangy calcium as she continued the precipice of a wipe-out, the promise of a podium too good to lose.

Aisha’s heart pounded with exhilaration as they hurtled down the straight once again, soon enough the pair were met with the sharpest corner yet, Aisha pushed further and Carlos relented, edging away meekly to allow her to slip by. The crowd’s cheers washed over her, a wave of euphoria crashing over her senses as her heart swelled with triumph.

“WOO! P3!”

“Amazing work Aisha, halfway there. Get some distance between you two.”

“I can take on Checo,” Aisha promised, her aggressive spirit burning deeply within her core as her eyes narrowed into the back of one of the red bulls.

“Go for it, but be careful, your tyres aren’t that good.” James warned her, his voice crisp with caution.

“I got this.”

Aisha revved up once her power had flashed a promising green on the screen in front of her, “It’s time to pounce.” She promised herself whilst flicking the DRS button with her thumb, letting the flap behind her quiver open, the force launched her forward like never before as the lap count leached into the 40’s, Checo hadn’t yet pitted, neither had she, and suddenly, it was a battle of the wills.

She tried all that she could, nudging her nose into the smallest of gaps and backing out when he had angled himself predatorially, grazing her front wing enough for her heart to jump into her throat, “What the fuck is he doing? Fucking cocksucker, he wants to kill me or what?” Aisha had to remind herself to lower her voice.

“It’s within regulation, keep pushing you’re approaching DRS again.” James assured her.

The car trembled beneath her, like a jaguar waiting to pounce again after one failure, she pressed again. This time she nipped Checo’s wheel, causing for him to quickly move out of the way, narrowly missing a spin-off and allowing Aisha to speed into P2.

“FUCK YES! HOLY SHI-“

Aisha’s celebration was cut short when a dangerous thrum approached her rapidly, she attempted with all her might to duck and weave into and out of his path, but Checo was relentless, continuously rubbing against her wheels and forcing her to utilise her power.

“Fuck, fuck what the actual shit?” Aisha screeched as she continued to sloppily defend, her anger bubbling up like hot water.

The red bull growled and pounced in front of her, clipping enough of her front wheel to send her spinning. Aisha shouted with malice, throwing up her hands as her wheels began to rotate rapidly, “BASTARD!”

Her vision blurred as the world around her continued to haphazardly shift, the fans above stilled with trepidation as they watched her strangle her wheel with both hands and wrangle the car back into position.

“Okay, so that’s P5- P5, Piastri, Sainz, Perez and Verstappen in front of you,”

“Copy.” Aisha grumbled darkly, manoeuvring the vehicle so that she could continue to viciously speed down the final lap, murderously defending her position as her stomach finally settled and head stopped pounding with adrenaline.

The race ended with Crofty heartily congratulating her over the commentary,

“And Verstappen has won the Bahrain grand prix! with Checo in P2 and Sainz in the Ferrari in P3. Now the fans have spoken, and new-comer Aisha Patel has been voted driver of the day, rightfully so, securing a solid P5 finish after a challenging battle on the track. it's fantastic to see her scoring valuable points in her debut race. And let's not forget the incredible debut of the Porsche F1 Team! It's clear that they're a force to be reckoned with in the championship.”

A view of Max passing through the finish line is shown, sparks flew behind his car as he speeds through and turned into the parc ferme. Aisha is also shown, her eyes steely from within her helmet and as she stops her car she clambers out of the cockpit and rips of her headgear, a scowl evident on her usually cool face.

She pushes open the gate to the media pen, narrowly avoiding Max, who spared her a dark glance from over his shoulder before turning back to the interviewer.

“Yeah, people make stupid decisions sometimes,” She heard him answer the unintelligible question. Aisha could already feel the anger burn her throat as she whipped her head around and met Max’s eyes, he stared back, an inferno raging within his blue iris’. She opened her mouth to speak but was stopped by her Media manager, pulling her away gently, Aisha followed tearing her eyes away from the Dutchman. Yet, she could still feel his heated gaze on her.

Aisha scoffed passing by Carlos and Checo, who were conversing in fast Spanish, and headed towards the common media area, where eager and ravenous reporters began to clamber on top of one another as they caught sight of her sweaty face and stringy hair.

“Aisha! Aisha!” They called, loud voices breaking through the microphone and blowing through the audio.

Aisha huffed and went towards the tell-tale white microphone, the sky sports logo sprawled all over the foam cover,

“Hi Aisha, congratulations on the P5 today,” Mark started, holding the microphone out for the visibly annoyed driver.

“Thank you,” She snipped, but blinked a few times before forcing herself to continue, “Y’know could’ve been a P2 finish for Porsche today, but I’m happy with both Pierre and I’s finish, at least we scored some valuable points.” Aisha robotically recounted her PR training.

“Definitely a tough break for you out there,” He nodded solemnly, “Care to walk us through what happened with Checo on lap 43?”

Aisha sucked in a breath, looking behind her where her PR person stood, arms crossed over her Porsche shirt as she shrugged, “Yeah, of course, it’s disappointing end to my race, P2 would probably be a dream, but Checo made a-“ Aisha bit her tongue momentarily, looking into the few dozen camera’s pointed at her, until she noticed Checo’s reflection walking behind her, heading to the cool-down room, “-a dickhead move absolutely dangerous, there was contact because he couldn’t use his eyes, and that caused me to spin out. It’s racing, I know, but you don’t see race winners or legends making moves like that.” Aisha hissed.

Mark stared at her, mouth agape before he recollected himself and forced a flabbergasted laugh, “Well, that’s one way to put it.” The other surrounding reporters were close to drooling at the mouth, their own mics pushed further through the gaps as they imagined the debaucherous headlines they could create from her outburst.

“How were you feeling during that moment?”

“Truthfully?” She tilted her head, “Pissed, but you probably didn’t you marky-moo, my radio probably told you that. But after I managed to regain my original position, I was more determined to just finish the race with a solid end.”

He laughed at that but stilled when Checo emerged once again from the cool-off room, “Checo!” Mark called, oblivious to the thunderous haze that overtook Aisha. She checked behind her shoulder, and her upper lip curled with malice,

“I’ll let Checo say his bit- “She murmured, “Excuse me.” And left the pen, heading towards the Porsche garage whilst avoiding eye-contact with Lucy, her fuming PR manager.

“Hey! Checo!” Aisha called out, throwing down her headphones, leaving her race engineer in concerned confusion as she approached the red bull driver, amid his team, oblivious to the storm about to hit him.

“Oh, hey Aisha-“

“Do not, hey, me.” She snarled, “What the fuck was that on track? Were you trying to kill me back there? You could’ve overtaken me in so many other ways.” Aisha approached him, prompting Checo to take a simultaneous step back, hands raised.

“It’s racing Aisha, I had to make a split-second decision.”

“We all make decisions, Perez,” She snarled, hands balling up into fists, “You don’t see Charles or Carlos or anyone with half a brain doing what you did? You messed up my race!” Aisha’s voice begins to raise, drawing attention of the red bull personnel, since the pair had manged to slowly move up to the entrance of the garage, and prompting a few camera men, who were following around Lando and Oscar to pan over to her.

Aisha groans, smacking her palm against her head a few times as a display of aggression before turning back to a very sweaty, nervous driver, “Never mind my race- you had fucking so many other options, why? Why did you decide to clip my wheel? Is it because being overtaken by a woman was so embarrassing, for red bull’s number two, you couldn’t handle it?” Aisha mocks him, before starting to approach his frozen form, a violent fire burning in her eyes and spreading to her limbs, igniting them with her fury.

Just as there was merely a centimetre between the two, a pair of strong arms hooked themselves around her elbows, holding her hand away from Checo, who had started shouting about his “personal safety”.

“Are you fucking stupid?” A gruff voice whispers into her ear.

Aisha kicks out, a futile attempt to free herself, “Let me go,” She whips her head around, her hair flying,

“Can you stop? I will literally knock you out.” The voice continues, grunting when her foot narrowly misses his groin.

“Fine-“ She huffs, going limp as she shoots daggers into Checo’s retreating back being escorted by a flurry of blue clad workers, “Fine, let me go,” She mumbles.

The man drops her onto the floor instantly, allowing her to stumble over her feet. Aisha finds her footing once more and spins around to meet his eyes, “Max?”

Max stares down at her, his eyes squinted with annoyance, “Who else? You’re in front of the red bull garage.” He rolls his eyes and steps a large stride away from her.

Aisha blinks once. Twice. Before scoffing and crossing her arms, “Yeah. Thanks.” She snarks before walking away from him, leaving the dutchman standing, fuming in his spot. She manages to skip over the McLaren crowd but had attracted almost half a dozen cameras on her, the large intimidating lens’ were pushed into her face haphazardly, narrowly missing her face a few times.

Aisha had to hold herself back from stealing the cameras from their holders and smashing them onto the ground. She could feel a self-depreciating throb begin to build in her head, the memory of all the idyllic children watching her, and those who had felt represented by her made tears prick at her eyes. In that moment, with too many lens’ focussing on her quivering lip, she hoped that they wouldn’t catch the salty sadness that threatened to stream down her face

The post-race interview scene fades away, and a familiar red bull jersey is announced into the scene, the dark blue merging pleasantly with the dark grey background. We’re introduced to Checo’s frame, a placid smile on his face.

“Hi checo,” The interviewer greets the driver, who nods in acknowledgement, “Well, Bahrain was an intense time for you, especially the on track accident with Aisha, would you care to talk us through the whole thing?”

Checo clears his throat briefly, “Yeah, uhm, it was a tight battle with her, and she was holding her ground y’know, but I saw an opportunity to make a move and I took it.” He shrugged once, reverting his gaze away from the camera, “And, as an unfortunate by product, she ended up spinning out, but it’s racing, these things happen.”

“I think everyone knows that she seemed quite upset about the incident, did you have a chance to speak with her afterwards?”

“uhm, people say things when they’re angry, and Aisha was frustrated but I’m here to win races, that’s what I’ve been hired to do. Once again, it was a choice that I had to make, and it’s hard to consider everyone’s emotions while I do it.”

“Max, we recently interviewed Checo, and he had some…words to say about the situation in Bahrain, specifically with Aisha after the race. Now, we saw that you had intervened just in time, what was going on during that moment?”

Max shifted in his chair, slipping down slightly, and crossing his arms over his chest, “Yeah, I could see that the situation was escalating, with Aisha getting increasingly angry, it would’ve ended pretty badly.”

“You sound so sure about that.”

“Trust me, I know anger when I see it, and I know that races can get heated especially when avoidable occurrences aren’t avoided, but I also think that emotional regulation is crucial to compete.” He distractedly runs a thumb over his bottom lip.

“Does this change your initial views on Aisha entering the sport? Since you were pretty, pessimistic.” The interviewer cringes just as the words escape their mouth.

“I wouldn’t say I was pessimistic,” He quickly rejects, “But I think she had something to prove, just like any of us, she isn’t exempt from it. And she, raced like any of us would’ve in the moment, so do I suddenly think of her as a saint? No, but do I think that she’s building up to something? Maybe.”

“Aisha!” A voice calls from behind her, Aisha smiles at the fans who had offered her a notebook to sign, she watched them walk away before responding,

“Yeah?” She tucks away her pen into the silver, Porsche gym bag that hung from her shoulder.

Lando jogs up to her, tapping his card against the scanner before pushing through the gate and reaching her side, “Great race, you handled it...well…” He trailed off, unsure of how to spin off his compliment.

Aisha laughs at that, throwing her head back, ”It’s okay Lando, you don’t have to say anything” She tugs at the sleaves of her tight black jacket, the hugo boss label stretched over her chest as she pulled at the fabric, “I- I can get pretty mad,” Aisha shrugs, kicking an imaginary pebble with her shoe, rustling her oversized tracksuit bottoms, the three parallel lines on both her legs fluttered with the airy clothing.

“Yeah, that probably didn’t go down to well on camera,” He itches the back of his head, “I actually came to ask if you’re staying at the same hotel as the rest of us, Oscar took my car and I’m stranded.”

“Lando…” She sighs, adjusting the strap of her bag, “If you wanted to ride in my Porsche, you could’ve just said so.” Aisha gestured to her silvery 918 Spyder, the high-end sports car shimmered beneath the spotlights of the private car park.

Lando hissed through his teeth and grinned, “You caught me.” He held his hands up, “It’s the only way I can be photographed in the car without causing an uproar.”

Aisha tilted her head at him, “Oh, so nothing else is convincing you?”

“Hmmm, that, and maybe the very beautiful and scary woman who drives it?” Lando offered, holding out his hand for her to take.

She looked down at his open palm before searching the area around them, the rest of the grid had departed long before, leaving just her car and another in the parking. Aisha squinted her eyes at the remaining automobile, a Honda NSX, the only owner being none other than a certain grumpy blonde, who was more focussed on his back seat than on the couple who still stood in the middle of the concrete.

Accepting his hand, she revelled in the feeling of her fingers intertwined with his, soft skin against coarse knuckles, a warm aura enveloped her being as she guided them towards her car, pulling out the flat fob to click open the expensive machine.

Yet, as she watched Lando retreat into the passenger’s seat with an amazed, “oh damn.” and went to unlock the trunk to slip her duffel bag into, she felt an icy gaze glued to her back.

Aisha turned once behind her to where Max was sitting in his driver’s seat, eyes glued at first on Lando, an unrecognisable expression painted on his face before he slowly slid it up to her face, and his once oddly neutral gaze turned into an annoyed squint.

With that, the dutchman tore his eyes away from a now, slightly agitated Aisha, towards the open road and pulled out of the car park, speeding away to what she assumed would be the hotel.

“Hey,” Lando leaned over the dash, reaching for her hand that rested on the headrest of her seat, the other braced on her car door as she watched the retreating Honda, “You okay?”

Aisha jumped out of her disturbed haze, and back to where Lando was now rubbing his fingers over hers that had tensed enough to turn her milky brown skin into a pale white, “Yeah- I’m fine, just checking for reporters.”

“I’m that embarrassing?” He teased, watching her intently as she fastened her seatbelt and smiled at the sound of the purring super engine.

Aisha snorts, “No- not at all, just making sure that McLaren’s golden boy isn’t photographed inside a Porsche- with the grid’s certified crazy woman.” She pressed on the gas.

“Yeah, but…what if I want that?”

“What?” Aisha’s eyebrows knitted together; eyes still glued to the unfamiliar roads ahead as the GPS stopped squawking at her for a brief moment.

“I don’t care if you’re the crazy woman…You’re just, you. I don’t care about the rest.” Lando smiled lazily, his eyes studying her quickly flustered face.

“You’re a horrible flirt Norris.” She grumbled.

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everythingne · 3 months

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ➛ looking in a mirror, riptide (op81)

last installment / series masterlist

mark and sebastian have vastly different ideas for how the strategy should go for bahrain. oscar has a mini victory, daisy struggles to adjust from f2 and people learn her politeness is more of a facade than anything.

warnings/notes: hate comments, no injury accidents, lance stroll being bitchy, this took so long to get out i apologize. i changed yns faceclaim to cecilia chancez

Mark and Sebastian had been behaving for the most part. Porsche was using them as trainers alongside the rest of their staff, and so far it had been smooth sailing. Mark was good at keeping to a regimented plan, keeping both drivers with strict meal plans, workout schedules, and media duties, while Sebastian did more of the experimental work. The car had come along beautifully, the uniforms were gorgeous, and everything was sleek and ready to go.

And then it came to team strategy.

It was a bit of a bicker point for the two retired drivers, and while it was clear you had a big strength with overtaking while Oscar had a bigger strength on defense, it was often bickered about who should do what.

The plan for Bahrain, excluding all the minute details, is mostly for you to lead with Oscar defending you from behind. The two of you are to stick together like a pack, trying not to get seperated. It's clear Mark doesn't want Oscar to get pushed to a second drivers position either, not that the younger Aussie minds it, but knows you have a better chance of shooting ahead with overtaking last moment, so it's a weird balance back and forth for Mark alone. Add Sebastian in and it’s a whole mess.

Arriving in Bahrain, you and Oscar are ushered to the hotel to drop your stuff and then immediately to the paddocks. Its been a mix of dread and excitement for the whole eight hour flight, and Oscar's easy to talk to about it. Hence why you both buckle down in your drivers room, snacking and laying back.

"I still haven't spoken to Rhys about the swap." You admit when Oscar asks, causing him to hum as he leans back against the wall he's sitting against while you stretch against the opposite wall.

"I mean, you haven't really been home. We've practically lived in the garage for weeks." Oscar shrugs, "my sisters are getting real impatient with me not answering them, I imagine with Rhys being just as busy its hard."

"And now he's in a new time zone too. It's so weird." You huff, lowering the bar you've been using to stretch out your shoulders and neck absentmindedly while Oscar rolls his wrists out on one of the small pediatric balls you've been given.

And as deadpan as usual, he says, "It'll come up this weekend, probably. Are you still angry about it?"

You shrug. It's a betrayal, for sure. You'd both promised to always stick together, but here you were... left behind. Like all baby sisters were eventually. On the other hand, you understand his desire to chase what may give him the best chance at a strong future. No other team had offered you a contract, but McLaren wanted Rhys. So it made sense to you.

"Being conflicted is better than just hating him, y'know." Sebastian's voice chimes and you turn to the German who smiles softly, welcoming himself in. Not that you or Oscar will complain.

"I don't hate him, I don't think I can." You shrug, handing Oscar the pipe for his shoulders when he asks for it softly. Sebastian just nods, its not like he's told you that Rhys was chasing money rather than a dream.

"Twenty minutes to media," Mark steps in too, giving Sebastian a soft smile and nod in greeting before turning to you and Oscar, "How are you guys feeling?"

"Fine," Oscar hums, "same old, same old."

"A bit nervous." You admit and Seb leans over to nudge you while Mark gives you a sympathetic smile, but allows your strategist to give you a pep talk while he kneels down to talk with Oscar.

"Ay, it's not nothing you haven't already done." Sebastian leans on the wall near you as you stretch a bit, "Just go slow, and we'll be nearby if you need to like get out of a weird situation."

"Its not weird shit I'm worried about, its Rhys." You huff, leaning to pop your head on Sebastian's shoulder, "you know how he gets, and I don't want media getting any crazy ideas that we like.. hate each other or something."

"Do you hate Rhys?"

"I... I'm fucking pissed and right now, in this moment, I hate him a little bit."

Sebastian nods and wraps an arm around you, shrugging as he says, "You think after everything I did, I didn't hate at least one person in the moment? Hell no, it used to be impossible to put Mark and I in a room together."

Mark laughs at that, but nods.

"But, we got over it. Or, more so, I realized it wasn't his fault and that I was being reckless. But we were young, now we're older and we get it."

Mark chimes in, "Look at Lewis and Nico, they hated each other. But now Lewis buys Nico's girls gifts all the damn time."

"It's a rough patch," Oscar says when your expression looks a little too confused, "they're saying, basically, one day it's something you'll look back at and be able to accept. It's nothing set in stone. You and Rhys are two peas in a pod or whatever, just let what happens, happen. He's still your brother."

“I know it’s just… I dunno.” You groan, burying your face in your hands. There's not much more to say at that point, so Sebastian just gives you a hug and soft reassurances before sending you and Oscar off for media day. Oscar takes your wrist to tug you along, before you both get settled in the media pen, Logan's the first to come up to you.

"Why don't you go see Rhys? He's right over there!" Logan cheerily notes, giving you the biggest all-American smile he can muster.

And when you peek behind Logan, Rhys has amassed a small crowd with his flare. He's smiling, definitely chatting it up with one of the McLaren volunteers or interns and you feel a weird sickness settle in your stomach.

"Uhm. No, I don't think he wants to see me." You say, "I'll just stick with the interviews, I'm not used to this yet so I just wanna be in and out, y'know?"

Logan and Oscar share an odd look but simply let you go off on your own. And for the most part, media is kind to you. You doesn't have to worry about any harsh comments about being a woman, or rude assumptions about your relationship with Rhys after the exchange... or questions about your ex. It's surprising. But, that surprise, you mostly equate to Oscar literally glaring daggers at any reporter who even tries.

The best part of your day, however, is meeting Jenson. He happily brings you off to the side a bit more, laughing as he bids away, "your guard dog, Piastri."

But Oscar smiles and steps closer, humming as he says, "Hey, I don't trust half of these media people."

"Oh, neither do I." Jenson smiles, patting Oscar's arm to show the dismissal was in jest. Cameras capturing you laughing at the two, and answering Jenson's simple questions. It takes maybe twenty minutes, purely because you find Jenson hysterical as you both keep going back and forth. It's Sebastian who comes to get you and Oscar, shooing Jenson away as he shouts,

"You're stealing me and Mark's kids!"

"Oh! Are you two married now?" Jenson doesn't miss a beat, grinning and making everyone in the nearby area start laughing. Sebastian kicks at him jokingly, Jenson sticking his tongue out in jest as he dodges and then bids the Porsche drivers farewell.

The rest of media day passes in a blur, and by the time the last event rolls about, you've got Oscar's face squished against your shoulder as he softly snores. You're about the same distance away from completely falling asleep when Oscar's hand shifts from where it's across his stomach to wrap around you, and you smile, snuggling into the warmth that is your black cat of a teammate.

porscheracing

liked by f1, rhyspearce, markwebber, and 569k others...

porscheracing: look like our drivers had a long day!! see you tomorrow for our first ever quali!

oscarpiastri: in my defense I was tired ?

landonorris: i told you for two years naps rock, and now that we arent teammates you finally nap??

msdaisypearce: im a comfier pillow <3

landonorris: BETRAYAL OF THE HIGHEST ORDER.

rhyspearce: good luck!

msdaisypearce: the tik tok doom scroll rlly got to us

user1: ok seriously. they are dating.

Qualifying went... alright. Oscar ending in P7, with you, even after penalties from other drivers, ending up in P18. Rhys ending up P9.

You try not to let the side eyes and sneered comments over the low placement get to you, but its hard when its just about every damn male reporter. Lissie and Jenson are by the far the only saving graces you find in the absolute shit show that is the post Qualifying interviews, and then you tuck yourself into a corner in the back of your drivers room to hide from the world for a moment--headphones on and blasting something as you keep your head leaned against the wall.

Three knocks rumbling the wall cause you to open your eyes, Sebastian sitting down next to you. He taps his ears and you oblige, sliding the headphones off and pausing the music.

"You had a great drive today, you know that, right?" He hums and you shrug, "c'mon. Don't let the media get to you, it's your first race. A lot of drivers flunk their first race. You're new to the car and everything, just be a bit easier on yourself, okay?"

"I hold more than just my own successes on my shoulders, Seb. I hold the door for every other girl after me. Doriane, Chloe, Amna and Hamda, Maya, Bianca, Abbi-- you get it." You huff. Having come from F1 Academy, you'd spoken to Susie on countless occasions about how she felt like she'd closed the door. Never scoring points, never getting a podium. She made the academy to open it again, and you were the test subject of all of her hard work.

Hooray.

"If I fuck this up, how can any of them get here too?" you try to bite back the btter tone in your voice. It's not Sebastian's fault this all sucks, but hes the only person close enough to take your anger out on, and you grunt, "and Rhys isn't even here."

Sebastian just leans back against the wall a bit more for a few moments before he asks, "but would having Rhys here help?"

You pause, looking up at Sebastian as he watches your vacant expression, watching the way you slowly sink down and shake your head, "I think he would honestly make me feel worse. He's always been the better driver of us. People are gonna compare us a lot as is, but if we were on the same team I think it would be a lot worse."

Sebastian just nods slowly, then stands, offering you his hand so you can get up. He peels you off the floor, bringing you back out now to the much quieter garage. There's a few engineers walking around, and Sebastian brings you up to the monitors and sits you down.

"Look at your statistics." He says, pointing at the screen, then glancing over his shoulder as Mark approaches and leans on a nearby wall, and Sebastian continues, "your marks, overall, are almost just as high as Oscars are. See? In training, you guys are neck and neck. I honestly think you were just in your head about it today, tomorrow you're gonna have the track nailed down, and know how the cars gonna handle, it hopefully it'll be easier for you."

Mark turns to leave then, giving a curt nod in goodbye. You notice the odd bristling along Sebastian's shoulders, but make an effort not to mention it. Not worth digging into years worth of drama this late on a race night.

"Just..." Sebastian sighs when he can tell you arent' fully convinced, "Go out there tomorrow, try your best. There's no real... real danger if you do terribly. Media can say whatever, but what matters most is here in this garage, right?"

"Sure." You sigh, "sure. Thanks, Seb."

"Don't mention it, Dais. Go get some sleep." He smiles, punching your shoulder as he stands, turning to the offices to go collect his items. You get up, moving to the hall where the drivers rooms are and pause. Mark murmurs something to Oscar with crossed arms, and you'd feel rude to interrupt or accidentally eavesdrop. But when Oscar's eyes meet yours, you can't deny the flame of competitiveness you see in them.

Oh boy. Here we go.

It's hot. Abnormally hot for Bahrain at night in March, settling around 32 degrees celsius. It's set to drop quickly to somewhere around 15, but you're burning up as you start the race. Hands stay firm on the wheel, your eyes firm on the Alpine ahead of you.

Your engineer, Jovanni, is softly speaking in your ear as you cruise around the first few passes, getting you firmly into P16 within the first five or so laps. You squeeze around Lance, getting some sort of near miss as you force him out of the way in the turn, and confirm your spot ahead of him.

"Keep pushing, you're doing amazing so far." Jovanni says, "uh... adjustment up for rotary, everything else seems good."

"Copy." you take a sip of water, adjusting the rotary in the straight as you come up alongside Alonso. Which is... such a weird feeling when you grew up watching him win as a kid. As you get level with his back wheels with your front, you go around the turn and are forced wide. It knocks you back behind him but you hum, speeding up to take the inside line in the next turn.

You almost make contact, but luckily he eases off to the wide and you manage to get in front of him. A soft laugh leaving your throat as you happily grin at the feeling. It's weird to pass a childhood hero, but you grip your hands tighter on the steering wheel as you press forward.

"Great overtake, keep pace." Jovanni says and you affirm his statement, pushing forward to where Checo's fallen back due to car issues in the first few laps. Glancing ahead in the crowded turn, you see Oscar overtake someone beautifully, and then you maneuver your way to the outside of the curve to try and overtake Checo.

And shit.

"Contact with Perez." You curse as his rear tires hit yours, "not sure of damage."

"Still on the track?"

"Yessir." You push ahead, but Checo blocks you. So, its a comfy P14 for now.

"Copy, box this lap."

You continue driving, keeping yourself firmly behind Checo until it becomes apparent someone is riding your ass a bit too close. Glancing in your rearviews you can see an Aston Martin, but you aren't sure which one. Pressing to keep the racing line as best you can, you force your way closer to Checo until there's a sudden slow. Cursing, you break and weave out of the way of whacking into the back of the Red Bull in front of you, but not of the Aston behind you.

The driver hits you and nails you into the gravel, causing you to spin out. It takes you a moment to recover, but quickly you push yourself back onto the track.

"Whichever Aston hit me needs to be paying better attention, he's being dangerous." You grumble out the complaint, "Definitely have damage."

"Get back in and box, we'll go from there." Jovanni says, but he sounds void of any confidence he might've had prior to this. You let out a string of frustrated curses and continue the drive, not worrying about passing or getting too far up before you have to box. Its a struggle just to keep the car moving at the point, and you can feel dread pooling in your gut. As you pull to the pits, you're disappointed to see Sebastian standing off the pitwall and instead at door of the garage.

"Damage is too extensive to the rear axle, you're going to have to retire the car." Jovanni says softly and you feel your head just fall to hit the steering wheel.

And then you lift your head and slam your hand into the steering wheel, "Motherfucker!"

By the time you're approached by Sebastian, it's been long enough for you to stew in your anger in your drivers room. You'd been taking our your anger on one of the training tennis balls, throwing it at the wall progressively harder until the small green scuff on the wall started to turn into more of a dent. After the last throw, you just batted it down to the ground like a cat and sunk to a ball on the couch in frustrated tears.

"Not yours, but he got a ten second time penalty." Sebastian's voice chimes from the door, you can't even find the strength to look over. He continues, "Oscar had brake issues, ended P10. Honestly, a better start than I was expecting."

Your head perks up at that, narrowing at Sebastian who just shrugs, "two drivers completely new to cars that have never been on the track before, from a brand new team? I expected P20 and P19."

"I had to DNF." You deadpan, "that should count as a shit start."

"Y/n. You got rear-ended because Stroll couldn't keep his eyes focused on one thing at once. It wasn't your fault, it happens." He stays in the doorway, eyes narrow on you, but Sebastian doesn't make a move to come into the room. He can sense you need the space.

When you don't respond he just sighs, "Look. You've got media in twenty. So you have about fifteen minutes to wipe the attitude off, Pearce."

The door clicks shut shortly after and you groan into the air, slowly dragging yourself up. Media. Yay. After ten minutes of pacing to get the last bits of angry energy out, you change into normal team gear and head out to the main bit of the garage to find whichever poor soul from the PR team is going to have to deal with your mood. You get stuck with a just out of highschool girl named Mollie, shes shy and bouncy as you walk, and her excitement rubs off on you a bit.

You ask her a few questions about her work within Porsche and she happily explains how much she adores the media team, and you let her go on and on while you walk because its sweet.

And when you get to the reporters, and she can sense you tense up, she gives a tiny smile.

"Media can be bitches," she murmurs lowly, making you laugh as you wait for the Bahrain reporter to organize his notes, "just give it back to them."

You give her a little fistbump, seeing a friendship forming in front of you, before you start down the wall of reporters. Most are very forgiving of your race result, wishing you better luck for the rest of the season. You make it halfway down, finding yourself in front of Sky News. Jenson is kind, happy to report to you, giving you a hug when you tell him how frustrated you were with your placement. And then you make it to the last ESPN reporter.

He's a lively guy, accent clearly from somewhere in the States. He starts calmly, slowly bringing you in, before you can see the pin is about to drop. Even Mollie sends you a nervous look.

"And, I wanted to avoid bringing it up, but how did you feel after the rear-ending that ended in your retirement from the race?"

You sigh, digging through your head to formulate some sort of classy response, eventually stammering out, "I mean.. it's unfortunate. We all had to slow due to an accident on the track. I tried to swerve out of the way, but Stroll drove into the back of me. He damaged my rear axle enough I had to retire. It's unfortunate but sometimes it happens."

"Yes, it is unfortunate." The reporter nods, looking over to his camera man before saying, "We did speak to Lance about this earlier. And uhm... he said, to quote, 'she's an idiot. You can't just stop in the middle of the race so yeah, I hit her. Maybe she should go back to F1 Academy and learn how to drive, or not have paid for a seat in F1.'"

Your jaw ticks shut. Mollie clears her throat and you glance down as she shows you whatever your PR agent wants you to say and you shake your head at her. She nods softly as you murmur, "no, thats too nice for a dick like Stroll."

Turning back, you lean closer to the mic hissing through your teeth, "Well, for one, Stroll has a lot of room to talk about being a pay driver. He's got a lot of room. And Lance has been driving for how long? He's not a bad driver, never has been particularly awful, but he's got a lot of attitude. I don't need to go anywhere to learn how to drive, and I'll come back next race and show that. Trust me. But what Lance may need to do is hire someone to teach him to not opening his mouth when it should be shut. This isn't the first time, and I know it won't be the last. He wasn't looking, he drove into the back of me, end of story."

The reporter blinks, shocked at the sharpness of your voice as you continue with a rough growl to your tone, "Everyone knows you watch the car in front of you. That's like the cardinal rule of driving. Regardless of if you're on in a road car or on a race track. He put me in danger, and if the accident had been worse, other drivers in danger -- especially with how fast we were going. He should rethink his choices before commenting on my skill and my ability. I got here because I deserve to be here, end of--" you click your tongue to avoid cursing, "end of story."

The reporter just slowly nods, thanking you for your time, and as you leave Mollie grins as she says, "that was kinda badass."

"Thanks," you grin, taking a drink of the Red Bull you snagged off a random table in the garage earlier, "I feel better now."

"Good." Mollie giggles and you smile, moving along with her back to the garage.

liked by sebastianvettel, oscarpiastri, lewishamilton, and 816k others...

msdaisypearce: not the first race i wanted to have in f1. but we keep pushing. see u in saudi <3!

user1: last pic is a whole mood

oscarpiastri: no pic credits :(?

⤷ msadaisypearce: ur so spoiled. (oscar took the last pic)

user2: shes an f1 driver and yet didn't post herself in uniform?

user3: erm. oki girl whtv u say like u didn't slam on the brakes.

rhyspearce: u did ur best !!

⤷ user4: why is this so passive aggressive??

⤷ user5: daisy hasn't even LIKED her brothers posts since he moved to mcl

⤷ user6: that's so conceited of her. like if ur butthurt ur brother got a better team just be better next time?

sebastianvettel: tough start of the season but like i said before, you've got this kid !!

user7: her beef w lance is SOOO good like pop off daisy

user8: just proving f1a hasn't prepared its drivers AT ALL.

( taglist is open ! )

@evie-119

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula one fanfiction #formula one fic #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfic #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri x reader #op81 x you #op81 x reader #op81 fic #nicole wrote this

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miloformula123fan · 6 months

Text

okay like 2 months ago, I put out this moodboard, and @evans-dejong replied to it, and im gonna be honest that kind of inspired this whole fic

carlos sainz x male!royal!reader

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

and if you want to be added to my taglist lmk :)

carlos sainz x royal!reader

2022 Spanish Grand Prix

“AND George Russell has locked up at the final chicane and Carlos Sainz sails on through BRINGING HIM ONTO THE PODIUM OF HIS HOME RACE ON THE LAST LAP OF THE SPANISH GRAND PRIX. AND WHAT A RACE THAT WAS. Max Verstappen crossed the finish line first, followed by his teammate Sergio Perez, and rounding out the podium we have Carlos Sainz for ferrari.”

It had been a hard race, Carlos spinning in the first 8 laps. But he’d done a very good recovery drive, getting up to the podium.

Y/N couldn’t help but clap his hands as he saw a ferrari and a spanish driver on the podium from the back of the Ferrari garage. He saw himself on the screens, and flashed a winning smile. His mum looked at him with exasperated fondness as he hopped around waiting for the drivers to get on the podium, so she could hand the trophies over. He’d been looking forward to it all weekend, the previous highlight being handing off the pole position award to the other ferrari driver.

“And now to present the trophies to the drivers on the podium, we have Crown Prince Y/N, representing the Spanish Royal Family.”

Y/N could almost feel his hands shaking as he picked up the 3rd place trophy and prepared to hand it over. He ran himself through what he was supposed to do

‘Pick up the trophy, display it to the cameras, don’t drop it, first to the person closest, they’re 3rd place, hopefully you’ve picked up the correct trophy Y/N, then as you’re handing it over, shake their hand, congratulate the spaniard, pose for a photo handing over the trophy, and then walk back. Repeat for 2nd place, they’re the one furthest away, not a Spaniard, repeat for team, it’s the mechanic who looks hella awkward on the really small podium, and finally do it for 1st. Then get out of the way before they start spraying champagne.’

And it almost entirely went to plan. He had nearly kissed the Spanish driver on the podium, because damn he was hot. But otherwise it had gone to plan.

Well, until, while trying to get out of the way and completing his task, he had gotten sprayed on the back of his new shirt. Damn.

He heard the cheers and yelling stop as everyone realised that he had been hit. Y/N snickered in his head at the thought that people were scared of him, worried that because he’d been hit by some champagne, that everyone would be executed. Instead he laughed it off, grabbed Carlos’ bottle and took a chug before wandering off the podium, laughing at the ruined shirt. His mother chastised him and fussed over him as he walked away laughing.

The Spanish ferrari driver was hot, sue him.

---

2022 Silverstone

“AND IN HIS 150TH RACE, CARLOS SAINZ WINS THE BRITISH GRAND PRIX. HIS FIRST VICTORY IN F1”

Y/N could hear the cheers, the announcement was a little blurred as he hugged Carlos O, Carlos’ cousin and manager, after waving the spanish flag through a gap in the fence, yelling and cheering over the noise of the engines. There wasn’t a lot of celebration in the garage, as Charles, who was contending for the championship, had had a horrible race, but who cared? Carlos had won, at least Red Bull hadn’t won, they were still contending for the championship.

“And what a day for Ferrari, but they won with the wrong car!” Ted shouted into his microphone as the celebrations kicked on.

“I’m sorry?”

“Uhh, sorry to everyone at home we now have Crown Prince Y/N from the Spanish Royal Family. Now Your Royal Highness, what did you say?”

“Well first, my title is Prince of Asturias. Not this ‘Your Royal Highness’ bullshit that you’re trying to lower my status to…”

“Sorry, language for the kids at home.”

“Oh, says you, Ted Kravitz. Hi Kids, my name is Crown Prince Y/N, or the Prince of Asturias, and I’m going to give you a… what’s the word…unbiased view of the grand prix today. Charles and Max were struggling today. Then there was a safety car, and Carlos was given a better strategy. Now, keep in mind kids, this was because Charles was not having a great day. Then Carlos was once again screwed over by Ferrari strategists, however for once in his life he stood up for himself, and made himself a good strategy and won himself the race. His first race win, after 150 race starts. There is no wrong driver to win with for Ferrari, and Carlos deserved that win as much as Charles did. Thanks Tommy.”

“It’s Ted…”

Y/N waited in Carlos’ driver room for him to arrive back from the media. Carlos meanwhile had been told by his cousin that Y/N was waiting for him, and tried to pass off his impatience as excitement over the win. He had barely seen Y/N since the win, being celebrated with his team, but he had spotted him on Carlos O and Carlos Sr. shoulders, cheering with the other Ferrari engineers, and butchering his own national anthem, which was always fun to watch. But he hadn’t seen him properly, been able to hold him and scream and kiss him.

And he couldn’t wait for that.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he reached the door of his driver room. He could sense Y/N behind that door, actually he could hear him, chatting to what he assumed were his younger sisters and parents.

He slowly opened the door, pushing it with his hips as his hands held his water bottle and his trophy.

He watched for a second, not wanting to disturb Y/N, especially if he was saying something royal that he wasn’t supposed to hear.

Y/N was lying on his stomach on the massage bed, his feet hanging off the end as he had propped his phone up against the wall. His feet were kicked up in the air, swinging backwards and forwards, as his head, which he was holding up by his hands, was bopping side to side as he talked to his family.

“Yeah, so just waiting for him to finish his post race debriefs and media and then he’ll be here soon, and I’ll hang up then, I don't want to scare Leonor again. By the way, Leo, how’s Gavi going? Feel like the last I heard was from some media article about how he wanted to focus on football and didn’t want a girlfriend distracting him, but I'm sure you’ve managed to persuade him otherwise…”

While Y/N was teasing his younger sister, he was cut off by his (quite unmanly) screams as Carlos grabbed him from behind and hugged him to his chest, swinging him back and forth.

Once he had reassured both his family and the bodyguards who had burst into the room with their guns drawn that he was fine and Carlos had just scared him, he hung up the facetime call and snuggled in with Carlos on the small massage table, and admired the trophy.

“It’s pretty…” his hand hovered over all the details “like you mi amor.”

“...huh, most people would describe me as handsome rather than pretty, mi vida”

“Not me, you’re my pretty boy.”

---

Silverstone 2023

“Hello! You must be Lando!” Y/N walked towards the Mclaren boy and gave him a hug.

“You're the crown prince of Spain.”

“Wow, he’s observant eh Chilli?”

“Mate, i mean this in the nicest way possible, how the fuck did you manage to bag the crown prince of spain?”

“I think the real question you should be asking is how I managed to bag the most attractive f1 driver?”

“Have you seen Fernando?”

“Good point. The most attractive Spanish f1… no no, that doesn’t work. Uhhhh, the second most attractive F1 driver.”

“what?”

"nothing darling, good luck for your race Lando and nice to meet you!"

---

Singapore 2023

“AND RUSSELL IS IN THE WALL. GEORGE RUSSELL IS IN THE WALL AND CARLOS SAINZ IS GOING TO TAKE VICTORY FOR THE SECOND TIME IN AMAZING CIRCUMSTANCES. SO FAR THE ONLY NON RED BULL DRIVER TO WIN A RACE THIS YEAR”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD!” Y/N couldn’t help screaming through the ferrari garage as the entire ferrari garage erupted as Carlos crossed the line first. His bodyguards were clearly trying to reach him, but he didn’t care as he gave a massive hug to every mechanic and an even bigger one to Fred as he kept screaming his head off.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD YES! VAMOS YES!”

He was gonna lose it. Carlos had won a race. And this one for so many more reasons felt better than the Silverstone win. No disputes about team orders or who was the better driver.

Carlos had done it all on merit.

Once again he was hoisted up on the Carlos’ shoulders to horribly butcher his own national anthem. He could see his bodyguards trying to push through the throng of mechanics, but the mechanics were pushing back equally as hard. Well if his bodyguards couldn’t get through a crowd of overexcited mechanics, then maybe that was a sign he needed new bodyguards. First one’s who could get through a crowd when necessary, but also ones who understood that he could do what he wanted. He saw the cameras, flicking between the 2 of them singing to each other horribly, but he didn’t care. So what if these photos and videos were all over the tabloids tomorrow.

Tonight was their night.

And nothing could change that.

nothing.

---

Spain 2024

Y/N walked onto the podium again, remembering how 2 years ago he had walked onto this stage and met the love of his life at that time.

Except this time, he was standing with the spanish flag around his shoulders, on the P1 spot, instead of the P3 spot as he was 2 years ago. His smile was bigger, and the cheers were louder, especially with Fernando Alonso in P2.

As Y/N handed off the P3 trophy to a grumpy Max Verstappen, a P2 trophy to an elated Fernando Alonso, who gave him a massive hug and shake as they jumped up and down. Very different from 2 years ago.

And after giving a constructors trophy to a confused team member, finally it was Carlos’ turn. Y/N smiled as he handed over the trophy, adoring the goofy grin on his face. He also hugged him, and Y/N only cringed slightly at the sweat that was now on his suit.

It’s okay. He was never expected to wear this suit again.

He barely got out of the spray zone before the champagne spraying had begun. At least as he thought.

He let out a very unroyal scream as he felt the cold champagne trickle down his back, turning around to the silence with Fernando having a cheeky grin on his face (this seems hella clunky). The rest of the paddock and the podium was frozen, as if worried that he was going to order Fernando’s execution. Instead, he held his hand out, as his mother passed him a bottle of champagne that he proceeded to spray straight in Fernando’s face.

And then as the champagne started to drain, Carlos leaned over and kissed Y/N square on the lips. First official show of affection, and as Carlos pulled away and flashed the cheeky grin at Y/N, he thought about how the royal PR people would be scrambling to confirm that yes, Carlos was courting the crown prince of Spain.

But he didn’t care

So he leaned in and kissed him again.

Y/N walked onto the podium again, remembering how 2 years ago he had walked onto this stage and met the love of his life at that time.

As Y/N handed off the P3 trophy to a grumpy Max Verstappen, a P2 trophy to an elated Fernando Alonso, who gave him a massive hug and shake as they jumped up and down. Very different from 2 years ago.

It’s okay. He was never expected to wear this suit again.

He barely got out of the spray zone before the champagne spraying had begun. At least as he thought.

But he didn’t care

So he leaned in and kissed him again.

---

taglist: @leosxrealm, @tallrock35, @wolf-knights, @janeholt3, @badblondebisexualboy, @ghostking4m

#f1 x reader #miloformula123fan #f1 fanfic #f1 x male reader #f1 fic #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x male reader #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n

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nataliasquote · 8 months

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Masterlist

Welcome to my masterlist! Alongside my work on Wattpad and AO3, you can find all my mini series and oneshots linked down below. I usually only write for Natasha Romanoff and occasionally Yelena Belova, but feel free to send in any requests. But no smut, I’m not comfortable with that :)

Natasha Romanoff | Series

[F = fluff, A = angst, H = hot af ]

⧗ Double the Trouble AU | WandaNat x daughter: [F] Natasha and Wanda have their work cut out raising twin girls. But despite the struggles and the arguments, there is nothing that would break the bond this family has created

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

Canon oneshots:

A Day Out: [F] summer and sunshine calls for family trips out. To the zoo, naturally[2.9k words]

Groceries: [F] Natasha volunteers to do the weekly shop. Mundane, perhaps, but with two babies, things are never smooth sailing [1.4k words]

Cuddles: [F] a tipsy Y/n only wants one thing when she comes home from a party- Natasha’s hugs. And who is Natasha to refuse cuddles from her teenagers? [800 words]

New Families: [F] Natasha was content keeping her little family to herself. But Yelena and Melina weren’t. Which is how the family of four find themselves in Ohio, resurfacing memories for Natasha and challenging the three year olds in a whole new environment. Isla loves it, Y/n… not so much [4.4k words]

Yelena’s Day: [F] it’s finally Yelena’s turn to babysit the twins… a big responsibility for a usually messy Russian. [4.3k words]

⧗ My Songbird AU | Natasha x Willow (O!C): It’s the 70s. Final summer of high school. Why not spend it getting high, partying and sneaking off with your girlfriend in a town that is so disapproving of anything deviating from the norm.

Mood board | part 1 [F]

⧗ Back in Time | Winterwidow x daughter: Natasha and Bucky’s daughter seeks comfort in her Aunt Wanda as her parents go missing on a mission. She doesn’t ask for much, she only wants to see them again.

part 1 [F] | part 2 [A]

⧗ Midas Touch | Maid!Natasha: no amount of money will ever save a broken marriage or a broken woman. But maybe the right person can turn everything she touches into gold and this time won’t be cursed to break everything she cares about.

part 1 [F + A] | part 2 [F + A]

Natasha Romanoff | Oneshots

⧗ Promises: [A] Natasha and Anastasia didn’t know love… not until they found it in each other. But the Red Room was cold, in more ways than one [2.6k words]

⧗ Ghost of You: [F + A] Learning to move on after Natasha’s sacrifice is the hardest thing in the world [3.2k words]

⧗ Lost in the Fire | f1 AU: [A] A horrific crash tests Natasha’s nerves to the limit as she has no choice but to sit back and watch from the garage. Her girlfriend and her sister push themselves for that all important win. [4.5k words]

⧗ I Will Rescue You | natasha romanoff x adopted daughter reader: [F + A] An alert from the Red Room sends Natasha, Yelena and Bucky on a last minute mission. But what they find is far from expected… [3.7k words]

⧗ Can’t You See This is Breaking Me: [A] Natasha isn’t quite ready to give her entire life for the woman she loves [5.2k words]

⧗ Tattoos For Troubled Minds: [F] Natasha struggles to trust anyone when it comes to touching her body. But that becomes rather difficult when a tattoo idea comes into her mind that she just can’t shake [3.6k words]

⧗ Midnight: [A] Natasha has never learned how to rest, and at midnight is where she is most vulnerable [1.1k words]

⧗ I Know What You Are: [A] The bane of Natasha’s existence had finally slipped up but when sent to eliminate her, feeling get in the way far too easily. [5.9k words]

⧗ Mustang | cowgirl Nat AU: [H] The mayor’s daughter. A bounty hunter. One has freedom, the other does not. But will one fleeting night be enough to convince Natasha to leave everything she’s ever known behind? [4.3k words]

⧗ Is It All For Nothing?: [A] You just want a friend. Is that so bad? How is it fair that everyone else gets one but you. What did you do that was so wrong? [1.3k words]

⧗ Welcome To My Head At Midnight | song fic: [A] Natasha Romanoff is her own worst enemy and maybe this fight isn’t one she’s so sure she can win. [2k words]

Yelena Belova | Oneshots

⧗ For Her: [F + A] Yelena tries to find the balance between spending christmas with her girl and tracking down Clint Barton… [1.7k words]

#double the trouble au #natasha romanoff #fanfic #marvel #kaya speaks!

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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year

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The Aftermath || LN4 {11}

Pairing: Lando Norris x widow!reader Summary: Lando just can't help himself, he's drawn to you even when he's supposed to leave you alone like the bachelorette party and before the wedding. Warnings: 18+ only, sexual themes, alcohol WC: 2.3k

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten || Eleven || Twelve || Thirteen || Epilogue

The day could not have been more perfect for sailing along the Côte d’Azur as a warm breeze tousled your hair and the bottomless mimosas kept coming. You couldn’t think of a better way to spend summer break, and it was only going to get better.

You were surrounded by friends, both old and new. You had been afraid of reconnecting with the people you had ignored in your grief but the fear of rejection had been created in your mind and they had welcomed you back, grateful to have your friendship once again. As were you.

“Thank you for organising this,” you said to Maria as she refilled your glass and her own.

“You’re welcome, chérie.”

The captain had anchored the boat in a quaint inlet so some of the girls could swim but you had opted to catch the sun on the deck with Pietra. You had grown quite close to Max’s girlfriend when she came to the races with him and it was nice to have another female in the garage with you. As good as Max’s company was, it wasn’t the same as a female companion.

“It’s not too late to hire a male stripper,” Pietra suggested as she toyed with the rainbow umbrella spinning around her glass.

“No offence, but have you seen my soon-to-be husband?” you laughed with a shake of your head. “No man can compete with him.”

“It’s a bachelorette party, it’s tradition.”

You rolled onto your stomach and sighed as the sun warmed your back. “Nothing about our relationship has been traditional, why start now.”

Your eyes drifted shut as you listened to your friends laughing and splashing, music playing from the speakers and the smile on your face never faded until the sound of an engine grew louder.

“Sorry, boys, this bay is taken, find your own,” Maria called out and you peeked up to see a speedboat pull up, Lando’s smile growing when he spotted you.

“Oops, power failure,” he replied as the engine shut off and Carlos tossed an anchor into the water so they didn’t drift away. “Law of the sea, you have to save us!”

Lando’s best man was the first to dive overboard and make his way to the boat while Pietra went to meet him.

“He just can’t help himself,” Maria chuckled as she settled into Pietra’s empty sun-lounger and took your glass. “Go on, he’s not here to see any of us.”

You dove into the tepid waters as Lando bombed off the front of the sleek speedboat before resurfacing closer and shaking his hair out, sprinkling you with water drops as he swam closer.

“Do you come here often?” he flirted as he pulled you against him and wrapped your legs around his waist.

You shrugged coyly. “Just with my boyfriend.”

“Ugh,” he complained, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. “A gorgeous babe like you, of course you are taken. Is it serious?”

“Only enough to spend the rest of my life with him.”

You giggled as he nipped at your neck and pulled back with a smile. “Well, that’s a relief. I was totally prepared to dunk you if you said no.”

“Do you really want to start your honeymoon sleeping on the couch?”

His lips kissed down the line of your jaw before tracing his way back to your ear and admitting, “I don’t plan to be doing any sleeping, love.”

Your legs tightened around his waist in response and he chuckled knowingly as you asked, “Think anyone will notice if we disappear?”

“Yes. Do I care? No.” He was already paddling deeper into the water where the speedboat was anchored but a sharp whistle had you looking back to the yacht.

“Don’t even think about it, mate!” Max shouted with a finger pointed your way.

Carlos joined him at the edge of the yacht and reached into the pocket of his swim trunks with a laugh. “I got the keys, cabron!”

“Bastards,” Lando muttered under his breath. “I can’t get out of the water now.”

“It’s a shame the water isn’t a little colder.” You kissed him softly before pushing away with a smile you couldn’t suppress. “I’ll see you on deck when you…calm down.”

“You could help me,” he countered as he started swimming to catch up.

“The water is crystal clear, you perv,” you said as you looked back with a laugh. “I’m not getting arrested today because you got horny.”

“It’s your fault,” he pointed out, grabbing you to stop your retreat to the yacht and wrapping his arms around your waist. “I take one look at you and lose my mind.”

“You don’t make it any easier by doing this.” You wriggled in his arms to prove your point as he groaned as it rubbed your ass over the prominent bulge in his swim trunks. “In fact, you make it hard.”

“Good thing I have a human shield,” he chuckled as he continued to the yacht with you held firmly in front of him. “I can still sunbathe with you on top of me.”

“Are you sure you don’t want the big white wedding?” You had asked Lando plenty of times but it was the last opportunity for him to change his mind.

“I would’ve been happy to go to the courthouse last year, love,” he said with a laugh. “Plus, I’ve already stood with you in a church for all that before. I mean René was standing between us but…same diff.”

“Good,” you sighed in relief, “because it’s a little bit late.”

“Can you open the door now?”

You put your foot in front of it as the handle turned and you pressed your back to the cold wood so your hands were free to text Max to collect the wayward groom. “No, it’s bad luck!”

“Come on, mate, stop slipping your damn leash,” Max’s voice trickled through. “Leave the girl to get ready.”

“I just want to talk to my bride real quick. Would’ve seen more of her last night if it wasn’t for you.”

“Be lucky you got to gate crash the bachelorette party.”

“I would have got lucky, if it wasn’t for you.”

You tipped your ear to the crack of the door as you heard Lando complain about tripping over Max in the hallway and they both heard your laugh.

“Did you really sleep outside the bedroom door?” you asked.

“I take tradition seriously, thank you very much,” Max stated proudly. “And I knew this muppet wouldn’t be able to stop himself from finding his way to your bed.”

“I don’t sleep well without Y/N,” Lando murmured and he nearly fell into you as you suddenly opened the door.

Max threw his hands up with an exasperated groan as he saw you wrapping your arms around Lando but when you heard the longing in his voice you hadn’t been able to fight the urge to keep the door closed. He needed your comforting touch and you needed him.

“I got a crick in my neck for nothing now. I hope you’re happy.” Max took one look at Lando and he couldn’t help smiling at how awestruck his best friend was as he saw you in your wedding dress for the first time. With a clap on Lando’s back and a kiss to your cheek he retreated down the hall and gave you a moment alone with your husband-to-be.

“You look…whew,” Lando exhaled loudly. “Wow, I…”

“You clean up pretty well yourself,” you praised as you ran your fingers over the lapel of his suit and admired how perfect the tailoring was on him.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby,” he begged as he caught your hands slipping down his chest. “If I’m going to have you now, it’s going to be as your husband.”

You gently pushed back before you were too tempted to close the door and make the guests in the backyard wait. “Then what are you waiting for? Let’s go.”

When Lando said Daniel could be the celebrant you had thought he was joking. You couldn’t imagine the goofball, who never took anything seriously, being the one to lead you through your vows but he had taken the role seriously.

“How did you get your celebrants licence?” you had asked him when you found him the next day. “Why?”

He had grinned and sat back in the chair as he stared at the clouds overhead. “I love love. It’s beautiful to see and be a part of, so I thought why not. I can be more than just the class clown.”

You nodded at his sincere answer and leaned in. “Okay, good, ‘cause I could do with some help with my vows.”

The guests were spread across the back lawn admiring the petals and tea light candles that floated in the pool. Their light would only grow as the sunset later and the fairy lights would come on soon after when the party really began, but first you needed to gather the guests.

“Danny,” Lando called out the kitchen window and waved him inside, catching the attention of some of the curious guests. “A change of plans.”

“Okaaaay..?” he asked dubiously before you stepped into the kitchen too and he smiled brightly. “You look beautiful!”

“What about me?” Lando propped a hand on his hip and tossed his hair back. “I look good too.”

“Very dashing,” Danny laughed. “So what’s changed?”

“We want to start now. Everyone’s already here so just round ‘em up and skip to the good part.”

“The good part?”

“I do, she does too, you know, the good part.” Lando was growing more animated by the second, the excitement filling him from head to toe to the point he couldn’t keep from bouncing on them. “Can we?”

“It’s your wedding, bro,” Danny laughed, clapping him on the back. “You can do it however you want, or more accurately, as much as your girl lets you get away with.”

“I’m happy with whatever Lan wants,” you confirmed as the same excited energy began to flow into you and you knew it was time. “The sooner the better.”

“Alrighty then, follow me.” Daniel stepped out onto the back patio and stuck his fingers into his mouth to let out a piercing whistle that had everyone turning his way. “Ladies and gentlemen, come on, come on, gather round. I could do with a sheepdog to get the stragglers at the back.”

There was no separation between the groom’s guests or the bride’s, you considered them all family and it was only the closest people to you and Lando that had been invited to the intimate ceremony. The other F1 drivers and crew, the Quadrant members, Lando’s family and Maria, they all gathered closely at the bottom of the stairs waiting to hear what Danny had called them together for. The ceremony wasn’t meant to start for another half an hour.

“Since everyone’s here on time, which is a miracle in itself, these two want to crack on and sign their lives away,” Danny said, earning a round of laughs.

“Ready, love?” Lando asked as he slipped his hand into yours and lifted it to his lips.

With your free hand you reached for the necklace you had clasped around your neck that morning and ran your fingers over the metal band that hung upon it. Your finger felt naked without the wedding ring but when you woke up there had been a sense of clarity wash over you and you had slipped it off for the first time since it went on.

Removing the ring didn’t change your past and it didn’t erase the memories. Those would always be yours to keep no matter what the future held. But today was about making new memories and that would start with a blank space for the ring Lando was itching to slip on.

You let the necklace go and felt the ring settle over your racing heart. “I’m ready, are you?”

His smile grew but he didn’t answer with words as he stepped out onto the sundrenched patio and turned to watch you follow. You could see the future in his shimmering blue eyes, the promise of a life full of love and happiness. You could see it all as he waited for you to take the final step towards him.

“I love you,” he whispered, his eyes darting down to see your shoe peek out from the floor length dress as you took a step forward.

“I love you too.”

The air stilled as if the world took a breath and only you and Lando existed in the moment. It hung suspended like the fairy lights around the yard and you could have stared into his eyes for eternity but eternity would have to wait just a few more minutes.

Lando could sense the need and urgency to make your vows, to make him your and you his, as he pointed to Max. “Rings, rings, tell me you’ve got them.”

“Of course I’ve got them. What kind of best man do you think I am?” he said as he pulled the matching set from his breast pocket and placed them in your palms.

“The best,” Lando grinned before nodding to Danny. “The good part, yeah?”

“Someone’s a little eager,” Danny teased as he flipped through his folder to the last page.

“More than a little. I have been waiting for this moment all my life.” Lando turned to face you and shook his head like he still couldn’t believe he wasn’t dreaming. “Now would you please hurry up so I can call this angel my wife?”

Click here for chapter twelve.

Tagging: @yunnie-f1 @neiich @zendayabelova @stillbreathin @dr3lover @writerscurse @christianpulisic10 @alwaysclassyeagle @alexisquinnlee-bc @purplephantomwolf @lightsoutletsgo @pleasantducktimetravel @pierre-gasllllllyyyyyy @holy-macncheese-balls @belennasif @ophcelia @love4lando @ryiamarie @mickslover @tyna-19

#lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #f1 imagine #f1 rpf #f1 fanfic

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