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rustedhearts · 10 months

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Raise Hell (Nascar!Steve x fem!reader)

summary: nascar driver steve harrington is a hot mess. literally. but when he keeps coming into your diner, staggeringly drunk and adorable, you can’t help but grow fond of him.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

hot wheels masterlist main masterlist

tags: nascar!steve, reader is referred to as ‘bunny,’ just fluff and flirting.

author’s note: i don’t know much about the mechanics of nascar because i’m more of a formula one fan, so some of the racing terms/descriptions might seem a bit more f1. sorry!

raise hell, praise…harrington?

talladega, alabama, summer 1995

In Talladega, a girl’s got two things to be: a country beauty queen, or stuck at her high school job. Stupid or stuck. You were stuck—specifically, stuck balancing trays of sweet teas and cokes, and burning your palms on the underside of steaming hot burgers and flapjacks. Stuck in the same stupid powder blue uniform and frilly lace apron you’d been swearing since you were seventeen. Sometimes, you started to wonder if you were no longer stuck—just plain stupid.

But two years ago, Nascar saw a new face on the tracks: one Steve Harrington. Donned ‘Pretty Boy’ for his princely good looks and boyish charm, he burned rubber like nobody’s business, and Alabama’s been in an uproar ever since. You normally didn’t welcome midwestern men with such open and loving arms in a place like this, but as the folks say: he’s one of us, honey.

And one of you he became. He even had the slight slur of a southern twang to prove it, and you came to hear it firsthand when he sat at the end of your counter one night last October, bleary-eyed and pink-cheeked.

“What can I get you, Hot Wheels?” You hadn’t meant for the name to slip, but once it was out there, you couldn’t take it back.

Luckily, Steve just laughed. Slumped on his palm, draped over the counter full of old crumbs and sticky syrup, he pointed toward a laminated menu beside him.

“You guys sell fries?”

You gave him a basket of hot, golden french fries fresh out of the fryer, salted to perfection by yours truly. When Steve saw them sitting in front of him, practically overflowing in their red plastic, newspaper-lined confines, his eyes got huge. He devoured the basket in five minutes flat. You turned your back to clean the coffee pot, and when you went to check on him, offer a glass of water to rouse him from drunken stupor, he was gone.

Sitting in his empty, grease-splattered basket were two hundred dollar bills. It’s still the largest tip you’ve ever gotten on such a small bill to date (or…on any bill).

When Steve Harrington stopped by the diner, you went home with a thicker wallet, a swollen heart, and a burning blush on your face.

You always heard his arrival before you saw his face. The smooth, low grumble of his Ferrari engine. His headlights blared through the blinds on the diner windows, whipping with effortless expertise into the front spot near the door. The headlights cut off, and moments later the door chimed as his lean figure stumbled through.

Designer sneakers scuffing the floor, black leather racing jacket with endorsement patches ironed on neat gleaming beneath the white fluorescents of the diner. He smelled like gasoline and boozy cologne—or maybe that was just the booze. Steve's favorite bar was just up the road: a swanky wood-paneled joint with a mechanical bull, and girls just out of college in skimpy denim shorts and leather cowboy boots. He always left with pink-tinged cheeks and a sway in his step, and though you disapproved of getting behind the wheel under the influence, you didn't mind that he raced all the way here just to get to you.

Tonight, like every night, he strode straight toward the counter and took his seat on a squeaky metal stool at the end.

He patted the counter, shot a finger gun at you, and smiled a half-cocked grin. "Hey, pretty girl."

Cheeks blazing, you rolled your eyes as you collected the coffee pot—freshly brewed just for him—and his basket of sizzling, golden fries. You placed the fries in front of him and flipped over a porcelain mug, pouring a steady stream until it pooled around the rim. No room for cream or sugar: how Steve liked it best. He was already five fries in by the time you placed the coffee pot back.

"Hey, Hot Wheels. Catch anythin' good tonight?"

Elbows pressed against the counter, you leaned over the stack of sticky menus and extra ketchup bottles to flash him your sweetest smile. You always laid it on real thick for guys like him. None of 'em tipped like Steve did, and none of 'em were nearly as handsome. None of 'em made you laugh like Steve did. Jesus, how stupid was that?

"Nothin' worth bringin' home, Bun," Steve sighed, head falling to his palm as his fingers made quick work of delivering fries straight to his mouth.

"Better luck next time." You shrugged, though you knew what this game was.

"No," Steve mused, eyes narrowed with a twinkle of mockery, lips coated in shiny grease and flecks of salt. "No, I don't think so. Know who I'd love to take out, though?"

You pulled away from the counter, that familiar flutter in your chest. You reached for the damp rag previously soaked in lemon sanitizing spray, wiping at the crumbs behind the counter. Steve always came in right when you were closing up. The first time he stumbled in, you threatened to kick him out, but something about those stupid puppy dog eyes and that sly, halfway smile made you stop. You always agreed to close on weekends, just to stay back and clean up after the strays and Steve Harrington. The diner was quiet, only the buzz of old lights and the distant whoosh of cars on the road keeping you company until he appeared.

"Who?" you asked, eyes flicking his way as he munched on his fries. The newspaper in his basket crinkled with his eager snatching.

Steve lifted his head, movements slow and bleary, and in your periphery, you could see it follow your every motion. His jacket made his shoulders look broad and big. You could smell the cigarette remnants still on his hands when you moved in front of him again.

"Come on, Bun," he huffed, that poor, sweet attempt at an Alabama drawl clinging to every word. The way he said your given nickname made your heart squeeze.

"Come on, what?" You flashed him a smile, pursed lips and scrunched nose, and he shook his head amusedly at it. He thought you were so beautiful, even in this ridiculous 1950s getup, hair frazzled and face gleaming with heat.

"When are you gonna let me take you out, sweetheart?" he pouted, hand bumping his empty, grease-stained basket when he dropped it to the counter.

Though your insides were stirring and the back of your neck felt like someone was giving it a pinch, you spun on your heel and reached for the coffee pot again, feigning an air of cool ease. You never wanted a man to have the upper hand on you, no matter how pretty that man might be. Your daddy taught you better than that.

Pressing close to the counter, you held the pot midway in the air, hovering, and caught Steve's eye. His were all whiskey brown and muddy green, more hazel than anything. It was only at this moment that you heard the Willie Nelson song humming on the jukebox in the corner. His lips parted when your eyes narrowed, catlike and dreamily charming.

You inched closer, leaning in like you were fixing to whisper a secret. "When you come in sober, Mr. Harrington."

You topped off his untouched coffee, placed the pot back, and sashayed toward the tables to wipe them down (for the second time tonight). Behind you at the counter, Steve gnawed on his lip, head tipping to admire the backs of your thighs where they caught the plump flesh of your ass beneath your shorts. He scoffed to himself, snatching the mug thrumming with heat, slurping at the potent black liquid.

If sober was what you wanted, sober you would get.

♡ ♡

Nascar was always on channel two, and when your manager Rod was working, he insisted on playing it on the tiny television behind the counter. He paced between the office in the sticky kitchen and the space behind the counter, munching on peanuts and sipping a jumbo Pepsi from the morning.

"Rod, maybe you should have somethin' else to eat." You whooshed a platter of burgers and fries over his head as you rushed toward your table.

"Nah, I'm waitin' for that-that Harrin'ton kid to come on," he excused, motioning toward the tv with a salted peanut palm.

You bit back a grin, sliding the plates onto the table for your eager customers. Wiping your hands on your apron, you headed back to the counter and leaned on the other side.

"What, excited to watch his engine crap out again?” you teased, giggling at Rod’s offended expression before flouncing off toward the kitchen for your break.

“That kid might not be from here, but he’s one of us now, Bunny!” Rod called after you, accent thick and slurred loose.

You waved a hand, eyes rolling. “Why d’ you think I give him such a hard time, Rod?”

You heard his hoarse chuckle as you hopped up on the empty steel tabletop in the kitchen, snatching a soggy fry from a half-empty basket. The cooks all murmured about a table that sent back a burger (there’s always one), and asked you about your shift today. The occasional ‘how are the kids,’ and ‘your garden holding up well in this heat?’ ensued, but most of them knew that when you had a moment to yourself back here, you preferred it in silence.

Billy, a line cook a few years older than yourself, whizzed by with a greasy silver spatula and a plate of perfect, crispy grilled cheese. He slipped it onto your lap as he passed, eye dropping in a wink, before he returned to the grill. You grinned in thanks, picking up the warm, shiny sandwich.

You were halfway through the first triangular slice when a holler jolted you on the table. You dropped the slice, rushing to place the plate on the table and skitter into the dining room again. Head whipping around, you searched for some sort of disaster—a hurt child, a choking customer—and found Rod screaming at the television, red-faced and glistening with sweat.

Huffing, you collapsed against the counter. “Rod, what the hell?”

Rod didn’t tear his eyes away from the television as he smacked his hands together. “Aw, come on! His car’s crappin’ out, he’s gon’ have t’ leave the race.”

You shifted toward the television, preparing to scoff at the urgency of Rod’s statement when sparks skidded over the track on the screen. Even in their pixelated form, the sparks were bright and sharp as a firework on independence day. You watched the cherry red car bounce, jostling the driver inside—clear cause for a biting backache. The car veered left, then right, then toward the off track where Steve stopped it.

Rod cursed, slapping his knee and shaking his head.

“Got-damnit,” he shrilled, easing up from the stool. “When’re they gonna put ‘im in a car that actually drives?”

Rolling your eyes and attempting to ignore the ball of worry the size of Texas aching in your chest, you slid away from the counter and headed back toward the kitchen where your food waited.

“When are you gonna get t’ work, Rod?”

“Eh.”

♡ ♡

That night, you soaked the linoleum in lemon cleaner and scrubbed at the vinyl booths, lights dimmed to keep customer count low until you actually closed. Rod left a few hours ago, and only a handful of cooks lingered in the back, shooting the shit and sharing smokes. You liked having the dining room to yourself while you closed up, humming along the radio and watching the road through the windows. You fantasized about a life with enough money to never wipe a table again.

Given the day he had on the track, the last person you expected to see that night was Steve Harrington. So when the door chimed open and shoes squeaked across the freshly-cleaned tile, you whirled around with a customer-approved smile in preparation for a sweet but curt “we’re about to close.” However, the customer service facade dimmed at the sight of that familiar pretty face and those colorful ironed-on insignias.

“Hey, Bun.” He sounded breathless and beat.

"Hey," you squeaked, dumbfounded by the sight of him.

The outline of his helmet still sat on his face: aggravated red lines indented around his eyes, across his cheeks and nose. His hands, Ferrari-red and raw, trembled as they swept through his tousled hair. "Mind if I sit, Bun? Long day."

Which is how he ended up slumped in a clean booth, head of slick locks thumped against the glass. It felt odd to see him in an actual seat instead of his usual at the bar, but he needed the rest. You could only imagine the sort of strain a car going 200 miles an hour while jerking around had on someone.

You slipped into the kitchen, and with a meek and quiet plead, had the cooks make one last batch of fries fresh for Steve before they left. Just enough for the driver to get his strength back up and feel at home again. The fried pile of grease glistened and sizzled in their plastic confinement on the way out of the kitchen, a cold glass of Pepsi fizzing in your other hand.

You brought them to the man still drooped in the furthest booth, head tipping to find his eyes. "Steve?"

"Hmm?" Blearily, the racer sat upright and blinked at you.

Flashing him a fond smile, you pushed the basket of fries closer to him. "Food."

"Oh."

He munched on the crispy golden potatoes for a while in silence. The back door clinked with the absence of cooks. You thought about getting up to flip the sign over to 'sorry we're closed!' but you couldn't find it in yourself to leave the table. Eventually, you slid into the booth across from him and watched him eat. He sucked down the Pepsi through a striped straw like a toddler gulping apple juice.

"Why did you come here tonight? I mean...you're in no shape, Hot Wheels," you remarked, watching him rub his fingers free of salt.

Steve's eyes flickered toward you below his brows, chin tipped toward his food. He straightened up when he saw you watching, giving his shoulders a shrug. He smelled like scorched rubber, gasoline, and a bit of bourbon-whisky.

"Had a shit day," he muttered, eyes returning to his fries with urgency. "Knew seein’ you would cheer me up."

A flutter disrupted the rhythm thumping in your chest. You felt it in your throat, too, settling like indigestion. You swallowed harshly to clear it away, easing the wonderment in your face with a little grin. Steve went back to finishing the thin strips of fry remnants sitting at the bottom of his basket.

Stripped free of liquored charm and that 'pretty boy' suave, Steve Harrington actually seemed...sweet.

"Hey, Hot Wheels?"

Steve looked up, lips glassy with grease. "Yeah?"

"You can take me on that date now."

♡ ♡

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planetmimi · 4 months

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decode - cl16

context: charles leclerc x black!fem!oc, some smau (cause i love those doooown)

faceclaim: @balialdn on insta

cw: none

summary: after a five-month social media break, artist Ahvi finally comes back to social media. her comeback is in the midst of dating rumors swirling around her and two of her...friends.

Italic = flashback

feedback is appreciated, this is my first one so please be nice

ahvi

liked by charles_leclerc, zendaya and 8.473.875 others

ahvi: my french is getting better, might use it in this project…maybe? (be calm yall)

f1lover: CHARLES WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?! welcome back queen (im trying to be as calm, i think i might actually explode from happiness)!!!

username74: oh look the whore is back

username54: awww we all hoped you would never come back

username12: no fr! when her contract ran out i thought that we were finally done with her

username276: YOU DIDNT SAY FOR A WHOLE YEAR MAAM

lewishamilton: new music, maybe?

ahvi: maybe… if you get me paddock passes

lewishamilton: ask your boyfriend...maybe

ahvi: blocked, reported and banned from listening to my music cause OMG?! i just got back too?! like please ntm on me

charles_leclerc: teaching you french has been quite the challenge, i would like some type of credit please

ahvi: if you podium i'll think about it

charles_leclerc: and if i get P1 i want a song written for me and to be in the music video

ahvi: *gasps in étonnement* thats asking for a lot, P1 twice this season and you've got yourself a deal

username67: you should have never come back nobody wants to hear your shitty music

stanningahvi: the fact that it’s been damn near two years without any new music… and a year since we've last seen you👁️👄👁️

lew_max.444: no cause if this is a trick…imma do something heinous

ahvi: is this a threat ? cause it’s kinda feeling like a threat

ahvi4f1: i mean…we can make it one if you want us to 🤷🏾‍♀️

zendaya: as your bestfriend i have to let you know, if you don’t drop this, i will do so for you (i will leak it)❤️

ahvi: sounds like less work for me tbh 🤷🏽‍♀️

zendaya: alright yall secret project dropping next month at 4 pm PST

ahvi: ouuu d*sney dupe 🤭

tomholland2013: please, don’t check your messages mate

zendaya: don’t listen to him. go check your messages babe. go ahead.

ahvi: #CANCELZENDAYA

liked by: zendaya, tomholland2013 and 45.856 others

ahvi

liked by: lewishamilton, sza and 5.946.087 others

ahvi: why didn't y'all tell me Australia is so hot ?? oh wait.. thats just me sorry y'all

landonorris : FIRST !

ahvi: 15th actually

landonorris : ......... you think you're so funny huh

ahvisdrafts: i mean she is actually a full time stand up comedian, part time singer-songwriter.

ahvi: you get it

username2: so, you and whats his face broke up and now you're going between F1 drivers?

f1grids: wow, never expected an A lister to become a grid groupie

girly2pop: are you ready to write a song for that man?

ahvi: stooop. shhhhhh. if no one mentions it EVER AGAIN i won’t have to do it

normani: tea is she's actually written like six of em already

georgerussell63: why is it always me?!

username29: girl we've heard the rumors about you getting around miss paddock princess

username : never would i have expected ahvi to become as close as she is with the f1 grid…like i didn't even know she knew what f1 was

username9: shes sleeping her way through it lol

username: girl you need to back up off charles

username6: no for real...going to australia three weeks before race week? way to scream desperate

Over the last year Ahvi has become somewhat of a hermit, between rumors swirling of a potential relationship between her and Charles, and her break up with her ex-friend becoming known to the public. All of this buzz around her name has generated a lot of hate, whether it be from her ex-friend's fans, Charles fans or her own haters. For the last year Ahvi has just been the internet's punching bag, despite not being active on the internet.

In the year she took away from social media a lot happened, a lot changed. Before she started her break, she was just off a stadium world tour, about to drop her first proper album. She felt on top of the world, until one day, with only three months left in her tour. Just before her second day at Wembly Stadium, when she fainted during soundcheck and was sent to the hospital.

- a year ago -

Her heartbeats so loud she almost can't hear what the nurse in front of her is saying. The nurse smiles lightly "I know this is probably very shocking, so I will give you some time, but your options are a bit limited with how far along you are." Ahvi nods, trying to process the words that were said to her, "I just- I'm sorry, I know I've made you say it to me a hundred times over but just...one more time and can I see the results."

"Don't worry, this is a common response in this situation," the nurse says as she hands over the blood test results. Ahvi looks at the blood test results, there it is, in black and white, "your HCG levels are higher than normal," the nurse points to her HCG results. Aleyah's eyes follow the nurse's finger, "Your results put you at being 17 weeks pregnant." There's that word again, pregnant, the one part of this she can't wrap her head around. As the nurse was talking to her an ultrasound tech brought in an ultrasound machine.

Ahvi tries her best to truly listen and absorb what the nurses are telling her as she lifts her shirt up to start the ultrasound. When the ultrasound tech brings the wand to where the gel was put a fast heartbeat fills the room and tears swell in the young singers eyes.

The 22-year-old looks at the ultrasound screen, a small incredulous whisper tumbles from her lips, "what the fuck."

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piastree · 4 months

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Take a Chance with Me | OP81

oscar piastri x reader (fc: huh yunjin)

— Part 4

Previous Part

Summary: When things aren't going well, Y/N takes a break for a while and redirects her focus to other things, spending more time with Oscar and her friends. Y/N's friends and Oscar consistently support her, ensuring Y/N is okay, even though she often insists she's fine. Disclamer: This is a story created for fun without any hate towards anyone. This work exists in a realm separate from the original canon. Characters may be divergent from their established personas. So, just enjoy the rollercoaster ride.

oscarpiastri added a story

landonorris are u proposing mate? oscarpiastri yeah mate, proposing to decide who pays the bill

yourbff

tagged yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, user and 29,112 others

yourbff Through thick and thin, we've been laughing side by side for ten fantastic years. Wishing you endless happiness❤️

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user friendship goalsss

user they are so PRETTYYYY

user both of you are not only stunning but also funny😂

oscarpiastri reserving my spot for the next decade😁

yourbff you're claiming to be one of my best friend spot now? i'll ask y/n first for the approval

lilymhe

liked by oscarpiastri, alexalbon, carmenmmundt and 29,112 others

lilymhe nature therapy🍃💖

view comments

user lily with y/n?????

user lol y/n just casually third-wheeling Lily and Alex😂

user mother, father and their daughter

user isn't y/n outfit too fancy for hiking??😂

lilymhe she thought we were just joking about going hiking😭

alexalbon y/n seemed a bit lost without oscar

oscarpiastri well, she loves being a dork

user MOTHER SLAYING AS USUAL😍

user Y/N is literally everywhere but not on her own Instagram :(

user yeah but we love seeing how people around her being so supportive

f1updates

liked by user, user, and 25,865 others

f1updates oscar was seen at a karting track with the young karteers yesterday

view comments

user finally we got new pics of oscar!!

user it's cute seeing the interaction between the kids and oscar

user AH OSCAR I MISS U POOKIE

user this is so lovely<3

user no y/n?

user i guess y/n isn't kind of wags who sticks to her partner all the time🤷‍♀️

user agreed, i've seen her at races only a few times

user when she doesn't need him anymore, she throws him under the bus

user lol wdym she just know what she should prioritize. Even oscar himself said she has her own life

imessage

f1wags

liked by user, user, and 10,901 others

f1wags After a brief hiatus from social media, y/n makes a cameo on her friend's IG Live today! In today's live, she spilled the beans on some questions about her christmas holiday in Australia and the short getaway in Japan with Oscar. She couldn't help but gush about the incredible experience—her first time in Australia. Oscar played the perfect tour guide, showing her around his hometown and introducing her to his family. He also told us about their short getaway in Japan. Y/N explained that they haven't seen each other for more than two weeks as Oscar is already back to work—busy with meetings, simulator sessions, and prepping for the upcoming F1 season at the McLaren Technology Centre, and she have to return to her work and projects too.

And can we just say, we're glad the couple is still in good terms after the recent not-so-great rumors?

view comments

user OMG, missed seeing you around, Y/N!

user she's talking about christmas in australia and their japan getaway? I need all the details!!

user she said they went to kyoto, disneyland, tried some street foods and traditional tea ceremony🥺

user i'm so happy y/n and oscar are still going strong and just ignore the haters and rumour

user their holiday stories are giving me major FOMO

user you radiate beauty and glow when you are unproblematic<3

twitter

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, yourbff and 102,999 others

yourusername in 2023, my journey went from ginger to black, mirroring the different stages of my life. It's like a colorful map of my growth and transformation, representing the beautiful journey i've had. Grateful for the lessons, the love, and the incredible people i met along the way❤️

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yourbff always proud of you!!❤️

user you're the sweetest, y/n! please always be happy❤️

landonorris what's wrong with the last photo?

yourusername my reaction when u got pole in Brazil

landonorris really?

yourusername whatever makes u happy🤗

user wish you nothing but the best, y/n❤️

user caption on point💯

yourusername

tagged oscarpiastri

liked by lilymhe, oscarpiastri, carmenmmundt and 29,954 others

yourusername same with me again next year?

view comments

user would be funny if oscar reacted with no

yourusername DON'T GIVE HIM IDEA

oscarpiastri i'll take that as reference thankyou😁

user adopt me

user the second pic is adorable😭

user this is the cutest photodump ever omfg

lilymhe ❤️❤️

yourusername love u mother, xo

oscarpiastri ready for another journey with me?

yourusername 💑💯

notes: honestly, i really want to put some conflict but i dunnoooo i can't bring myself to do it because i love them so much<///3 i dont want to mess with their lovey-dovey bickering dynamic:((( Maybe in the next part, I'll toss in some drama to keep things interesting hahaha lol. Thankyou for reading this chapter and hope u like it. Anyways, what do you think so far? Share your thoughts and let's have a chitchat with me<3

taglist: @fall-bambi @minkyungseokie @neoivy1

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri au #f1 fluff #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fluff #f1 smau #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #oscar piastri smau

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miss-kittys-kombucha-log · 11 months

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Black Tea F1

(got a big fizz when I gave it a stir - happy brew!)

Pear (270g) Orange (60mL) Cinnamon sticks (48g)

Kiwi (150g) Mango (150)

Kiwi (150g) Strawberry (150)

Going through a bit of a golden kiwi phase right now, they're so tasty! So naturally I decide to give them a go in the booch - and it was a good call. Kiwi mango & kiwi strawberry - 👍👍

The pear is a winner too, tastes a lot like cider. But once again the cinnamon didn't come through, and I put so much in! 🤔

So I've decided the problem is the type of cinnamon. I've been using Ceylon or "true" cinnamon - which is generally considered to be better quality, but it has a more subtle flavour. Cassia is less fancy, but it's much more potent. So I'm thinking subtlety isn't the way to go here 😁

#kombucha home brewing #kombucha #home brewing #black tea f1 #pear #orange #cinnamon #kiwi #mango #strawberry #main brew

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infinite-wanders · 1 year

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F1 SECRET SANTA 2022

Ocon - Spiderman book ❤️❤️

Daniel - Polaroid set, Harry Styles shirt ❤️❤️❤️

Latifi - Bee adoption, Nutella cookies ❤️❤️

Seb - Maple tree ❤️❤️

Lance - Bottas gin kit ❤️❤️

Valterri - Minion cycling gear ❤️❤️❤️🤣

Carlos - Pierre Gasly x Alpha Tauri jumper ❤️❤️❤️🔥

Pierre - Monopoly ❤️❤️

Fernando - mirror from Kevin's first car 🤣

Kevin - flag, stress ball, door stop, beard kit 🤣

Alex - used slippers, hair dye, golf lesson 🤣

Checo - Sake ❤️❤️

Yuki - Yukierre picture ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Lando - sexy black golf clothes ❤️❤️

Mick - adopted Lion ❤️❤️

Max - personalised f1 game 🥺😉🥰😍 ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Charles - tea set ❤️❤️

Zhou - dino and socks ❤️

George - drum with Brazil flag ❤️

Bonus:

I love how many people guess Daniel as he's thoughtful, takes time to get to know people and also just hilarious

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endofthelinexx · 2 years

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Roses and Flame | 1

Pairing: Female!Driver!Horner reader x Toto Wolff

TW: language, Christian Horner, slow burn, enemies to lovers, age gap

Rating: Mature, 18+

AN: Hiii! Quick little introduction to myself, I go by Lor or you can call me Dawn. A few months ago I was introduced to formula 1 by a podcast and very quickly became obsessed with it. When watching drive to survive I discovered this very handsome man and started reading fics about him. I soon realized there weren’t too many options, I haven’t written in a while but I’m going to try my best to provide y’all with another option! Hope you enjoy :) Comment if you want to join the taglist!!

Word Count: 1.2k

Mini summary: Collins Horner is the eldest of Christian and Geri’s children. She has been raised to be the fastest female racer Motorsport has ever seen and to despise Mercedes while doing it. But what happens when her world turns upside down?

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of it and claiming it as your own.

Years on years you had put into this sport, from go-karting to your newest opportunity, formula 1. It was something that you grew to love and was a big part of your life. Your last season in f2 was definitely your best season by far, winning your first world championship. You could’ve sworn that the second you lifted that trophy over your head f1 teams started reaching out to you. None of them really caught your eye besides Porsche. It was a new team in the 2022 season led by Michael Schumacher, and this team had big expectations held by the fans for obvious reasons. Your teammate, Dennis Hauger, was a rookie as well which made it clear you would have some competition for the unofficial number one driver for the team.

It was a warm spring day in Oxfordshire, the sun peered through your thin curtains brightening up your room. Your alarm contrasts the sound of the birds chirping and the water of the large pond outside hitting the shore. You did live in your own home, but it had been built on your family’s land. It was a small cottage-style home surrounded by modest English gardens. You had moved in at the age of 22 with your dog, Rooster. You let out a sigh and sat up, rooster already impatiently waiting to go outside. The second you stood up he bolted downstairs. Throwing on a pair of shorts, you looked in the mirror. Your dark hair that you had neatly put up in a bun the night before was now chaotic and messy. You stared at it for a second before deciding to leave it, walking downstairs and opening the French doors to let the dog out. You left them open, letting the fresh air fill your home as you made your morning tea. Coffee had never been your thing, the bitterness paired with how shaky it made your hands was far from worth it. Holding the warm mug, you stepped out into the garden, heading over to the large tree with a bench swing hanging from the largest branch. As you sat you took a breath in, thinking about the upcoming season. This time next week you’d be shipped off to Bahrain for your first f1 race, it brought a smile to your face followed by a wave of stress.

You sat outside for a little bit before heading inside to do a quick workout and get ready for the day. Going back downstairs, you put on some faint music as you heard a car pull up in your driveway. Peaking out the window you saw a matte black Audi which could only be your best friend, Audrey Blanchet. She got out of the car, dressed casual, and approached your home. She was probably about 5’8” with long blonde hair, if someone were to just glance at her they would be able to tell she’s Dutch and they’d probably think she’s a model as well. You had met her through racing, she was one of the other female rookies starting in f1 for this season. It was clear what team she raced for due to her fancy car, Audi Sport.

She pulled you in for a hug, laughing a little as she spoke in her Dutch accent, “hey girl!”

You hugged her back, “hey!”

You both went in and sat in the living area, talking about gossip for a little while snacking. Her teammate, Tayla Thompson, was the only other female rookie and she was insufferable. She got jealous easily and would definitely be the type to sabotage, but even with all these negative characteristics, she was a great driver and true competition.

“So, are you excited for next week?” Audrey began.

You looked up from your glass of wine, “I have mixed emotions.” As you spoke she nodded in understanding, “I’m very excited but this race sets the tone for my career and yours too. My goal is top 10.”

She laughed, “then you’re going to have some big competition because I’m sure that’s everyone’s goal.”

Laughing with her, you nodded, “now that’s true.”

You worked well under stress, I mean your father is Christian Horner, and he knows how to apply pressure. You’re just used to it, but this was a whole new level. You wrapped up your conversation over the next hour and a half and she left.

Wednesday rolled around fast and before you knew it you were giving your luggage to the driver as he packed it. Hopping in the car, you sat next to your father who was on the phone, clearly annoyed with the person on the other end.

‘Probably an engineer,’ you thought and looked out the window as the driver took you both to the private airfield.

In a blink of an eye, you were on the plane and in the sky.

Your father looked at you, speaking in a sarcastic tone, “can’t wait for the jet lag and the idiots in the Mercedes garage this season.”

You rolled your eyes at the thought of the Mercedes team. You had been taught to hate them, especially Toto and Lewis, who both repeatedly stood in the way of your father’s success and soon yours as well. It was a natural rivalry and you couldn’t wait to put pressure on them.

There was light chat about strategies and press throughout the flight as well as a quick nap. And soon enough the plane was landing and you meeting up with your agent, Florence, heading to the track. Sitting in the passenger seat while Florence drove and went over some tips with you when it came to the press, reminding you what to say to certain questions. Walking from the car to the paddock was unreal, cheering fans and the press taking photos. You’d never thought you could sign so many cards and hats. The second you stepped onto the paddock it all became real, press taking photos and videos of you walking, you’ve never been more self-aware. Looking around at all the fellow racers, you had truly entered the men’s club.

While battling your negative feelings you were basically tackled followed by a, “ha! Got ya!”

From a man with a British accent, you huffed and shook him off, “Lando really?!”

He laughed and started walking with you, “our teams’ garages are right next to each other.”

“Really?” You questioned, spotting the luxury logo of Mercedes on one of the hospitality buildings, immediately spotting the tall Austrian.

You both locked eyes, immediately you sent him a glare and he looked away to talk to one of the team members next to him.

The team member looked at you and then back at Toto, “that’s Collins Horner.”

You read his lips, Toto rolled his eyes and nodded, seeming to now understand your glare.

“Hey! I’m talking to you,” Lando snapped his fingers in your face.

You jumped a little, snapping out of your focus and looking over at him, “yeah? Sorry.”

He laughed a little at your reaction, “it’s fine, I just said I was going to get a higher position than you in quali.”

You rolled your eyes and walked into the garage.

next chapter >>

#toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #oc x reader #oc #roses and flame #lando norris

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liquidisedfrogs · 19 days

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EUROVISION RANT 2024

Last night was the night of creativity and culture that all (probably only like 20%) of Europe adores. Eurovision is one of the times when I, who am a very chill and non-judgemental person, will barf out my thoughts and write my commentary (cos I'm better than Graham Norton). STRAP IN MOTHERFUCKERS.....

We started this wonderful evening with a performance of Hooked On a Feeling which I gotta say is a banger but what's with that Burger King background? He was decent, to say the least but more or less it was just an old dude who stood on the stage singing which is just quite meh. Loved the flag parade, Swedish music is awesome.

PERFORMANCE 1 : SWEDEN- UNFORGETTABLE- MARCUS & MARTINUS This is a damn catchy song but how are you supposed to tell those twins apart?! I loved the sort of club/ravey vibes it gave. The staging with all the flashing lights was pretty awesome. (ngl those twins were kinda cute) THE MEN IN BLACK DANCERS KILLED ME. It gave Matrix vibes and I'm here for it. The costumes reminded me of F1 drivers but I love it. Rank no. 10

PERFORMANCE 2: UKRAINE- ALYONA ALYONA & JERRY HEIL- TERESA & MARIA Honestly, one of my favorites. Feminism in a good way. The taller woman gave off such Boudicca vibes and I love that, both women were so gorgeous and had amazing voices put together. I did say the rock reminded me of The Lion King but I really liked that. The costumes were also so aghhhh the Rey-Boudicca and the knight were such a great combo and the song was really catchy. Rank no.4

PERFORMANCE 3: GERMANY- ALWAYS ON THE RUN- ISAAK So. Much. Fire. Ya know, I'm actually disappointed by the fact that it wasn't in German. It's a solid song. It was quite rag-n-bone man style but I appreciate that. I do have to say it wasn't something ridiculously special but it's a nice song and a guy who looks like he gives a good hug. Rank no.14

PERFORMANCE 4: LUXEMBOURG- FIGHTER- TALI Firstly, I love her hair. It's so long and so pretty and she has got an insane voice. I'm not a fan of the song, though. It's too repetitive, extremely forgettable, and just mid song. It just wasn't anything special, it was a quite nice Middle Eastern vibe tho. Rank no. 23

PERFORMANCE 5: He got disqualified so I will not be ranking this.

PERFORMANCE 6: ISRAEL- HURRICANE- EDEN GOLAN What in the voodoo contortionist shit was that position at the beginning? Her dress tho, why she looking like she's just escaped Ghostface. Oh and look more shirtless men. This isn't the worst song it's just not the best. Another mid one like literally all of them this year. The dance was giving ring a ring a roses and the floor screens just were not it. She has an amazing voice, I won't lie that she doesn't but it's just not my vibe. Rank no. 17

PERFORMANCE 7: LITHUANIA- LUKTELK- SILVESTER BELT This is one of my favourites. It's a catchy European bop and I love itttttt. The tracksuit looks well warm. I adore his jewelry its so nice. I literally started cossak dancing it was so catchy. It's a real vibe and I really appreciate it. The short people had me in stitches it was hilarious. It gave off severe jamboree vibe sbut I love that cos it's vibrant and bright and just pretty fucking awesome. Rank no.7

PERFORMANCE 8: SPAIN- NEBULOSSA- ZORRA I am ashamed to say that I thought this was gonna be high ranking in my books but no. I am a changed person. This is a family show. I get that there's one like this every year but damn this was fucking scary. The men. In fucking thong arsed things. Nicht gut. The song was pretty good tho so and the 80s vibes rlly sold it to me. On the basis of the song not the staging, it was great. And, I mean, making out with a dancer on stage in front of your partner is very eurovision. Rank no. 13

PERFORMANCE 9: ESTONIA- 5MIINUST x PUULUUP- (NENDEST) NARKOOTIKUMIDEST EI TEA ME (KÜLL) MIDAGI I swear this is just a group of dads who've gone screw it we're doing eurovision and rocked up with 90s rap up their sleeve and traditional instruments. I think its such a vibe and I would kill to be them when I grow up. The suits were great, idk what was up with the slits but for some reason it felt like what a k-pop group would wear to the met gala. Literally the cha cha slide. Rank no.9

PERFORMANCE 10: IRELAND- BAMBIE THUG- DOOMSDAY BLUES Fucking incredible song. Harry Potter mentioneddddd. Their make up is on-point. The song is on point. The outfit is on point. Everything abt it is so wonderfully perfect. The nails are a bit odd but its a vibe. The witches circle was incredible, the screaming bit was too. so witchy, so emo, so awesome. I loved the chilled out bit, in contrast to the rest it was perfect and probably needed. The reduction of clothing towards the end was pretty funny, my brother stared a bit too much but oh well it was great. Rank no. 1

PERFORMANCE 11: LATVIA- DONS- HOLLOW What in the blue man x Gru crap is this? Honestly I didn't really register this one so I don't have a huge opinion on it. Also gives of Rag-n-Bone Man vibes even if it is a typical eurovision song. Altogether its a meh song, not a fan, and the fit is just downright strange. Rank no.24

PERFORMANCE 12: GREECE- MARINA SATTI- ZARI I am confused by this one. She has impeccable vocal control. I am extremely admiring that. The song was just a bit of a rubbish mishmash. There was too many elements. I did quite like that and the live stream addition watching on tv was quite nice. I'm confused by the outfit as well, everything just seems all over the place. It's giving Doja Cat but European. I liked the dance moves and it was pretty darn funny but just a bit mental. Rank no. 18

PERFORMANCE 13: UNITED KINGDOM- OLLY ALEXANDER- DIZZY As the youtube comments said, this gives severe gay lockerroom corn vibes. Just what the friggity frack. The crotch protection while dry humping each other?! It's just a bit odd. I did like the song. It's super catchy and very annoying. That guy can sing but maybe he needs to reevaluate where his loyalties lie in that. The staging was so confusing like for the whole thing I didn't know what was up or down or left or right, it was just mental. First proper European vibe English vibe that I've got. Very odd but it's sorta loveable. Rank no.19

HONOURABLE MENTION: LISA WOODRUFF - My whole family were so confused by this but the song was so funny for no reason such a vibe. It was genuinely better than some of the artists we've had this year. Mental but awesome.

PERFORMANCE 14: NORWAY- GÅTE- ULVEHAM I really enjoyed this one. The vocals are so ethereal and the 90s grunge mixed with Norwegian instrumental influences match perfectly. Stunning lady with an amazing band with her. The song just flowed ad the staging was all sea-witchy and I loved it. Great song, great staging, awesome euovision track. Rank no. 3

PERFORMANCE 15: ITALY- ANGELINA MANGO- LA NOIA The see through ish glittery tights were quite interesting I have to say. Her outfit was breathtaking. Her voice like many of these artists is incredible but not my vibe I have to admit. Its catchy I know it's someones cup of tea but it ain't mine. Overall, it's not too bad like I love the whole Mediterranean vibe but its just samey to the rest. Rank no.21

PERFORMANCE 16: SERBIA- TEYA DORA- RAMONDA The witchy vibes don't really match the song. I think it's really sweet. It's not super up there but it's a tune and I enjoyed listening to it. Here hair is so lovely as well. It really comes across as a bit of a plea for help but it's a lovely message and I always really enjoy Serbia's input because they're always shockingly good. I would love that dress as well if someone wants to go snag it for me. Rank no.8

PERFORMANCE 17: FINLAND- WINDOWS95MAN- NO RULES! This is the one I've been waiting to yap about. Bloody hell this one was a ride. I'm gonna start with the fits and staging: it was so random, I am so here for it. The egg was just perfect for the randomness and running about the stage was awesomeeeee. The shorts descending from the heavens and then bursting into flames was a real highlight, so iconic. The guy dressed in all denim was such a vibe as well. I actually feel sorry for him cos the other guy stole the spotlight a bit but that was a true eurovision act. I feel I can always rely on inland to deliver something crazy and they smashed it out the park yet again. Rank no. 6

PERFORMANCE 18: PORTUGAL- IOLANDA- GRITO The staging gave a beige mom house in the US, the makeup gave Coachella. I really thought it was quite a vibe, maybe a bit dentist office wedding but who cares shes a cracking voice and the dancers went down as 'the beekeepers in my house'. The light was giving Loreen's panini press again but it's not that bad and is a solid mid range one. Rank no.16

PERFORMANCE 19: ARMENIA- LADANIVA- JAKO This one HIT man. It was just a vibe, the like trumpets and the woman's mental ness. The patterns almost sent me into a seizure but it's eurovision, you're gonna have a migrane the next morning. She was so cool in her dress and I just loved it, the band was cool as well and jumping around the stage while singing complicated stuff like that is a talent so kudos to the singer. Rank no.11

PERFORMANCE 20: CYPRUS- SILIA KAPSIS- LIAR Yet another same samey song. It just wasn't giving me enough to get a notable score. This is no criticism to her herself but it just got too repetitive this year. Far too many scantily clad men dancing around young women. Particularly with this one, she's only 17 and she looks so much older and I was just worrying for her and praying that the dutch dude wasn't towards her. Rank no.22

PERFORMANCE 21: SWITZERLAND- NEMO- THE CODE One of my favourites for the evening. They looked like nemo as well it was so adorable. The talent to stay on that pendulum wheel thing is so freaking awesome. They cooked hard. Their vocals are so freaking stunning as well just an incredible, catchy one. The drum beat gave breakcore and it's just an ear-scratcher. It's just such a snazzy song. Rank no. 4

PERFORMANCE 22: SLOVENIA- RAIVEN- VERONIKA What in the water-coated body suit? The fit was questionable and so was the dance moves. Yet another situation where the contestant made out with the dancer. The light up tits and crotch were weird as well. Like highlighting the bits you shouldn't want to show off. Oh welllllll. IT was an interesting song, not particularly special but pretty typical eurovision. The eye makeup was on point also. Rank no.15

PERFORMANCE 23: CROATIA- BABY LASAGNE- RIM TIM TAGI DIM The pirate vibe meets My Chemical Romance were real. One of my favourites of the night. The cat pictures sold it to me heavily. I loved the fit it was such a vibe. I had it goin through my head all night. The meowing absolutely killed me. Such a banger a true sea shanty turned rock is the recipie to please my ears. Rank no.2

PERFORMANCE 24: GEORGIA- NUTSA BUZALADZE- FIREFIGHTER Yet another woman singing warbly surrounded by muscular men in interesting clothing. Her dance moves were extremely strange and probably not appropriate for the kids watching, particularly in that short of a dress. The song wasn't the worst though ( take that back probably one of my least favourites). The dance was just a bit odd. Rank no.20

PERFORMANCE 25: FRANCE- SLIMANE- MON AMOUR It was so boring. Like I was falling asleep. It needed spice. It was giving shit drake that sings falsetto that's too high for him. It was too repetitive, too boring. It didn't appeal to me one bit. Probably my least favourite. Rank no.25

PERFORMANCE 26: AUSTRIA- KALEEN- WE WILL RAVE Now, I'm not usually a fa of this vibe of music but kaleen executed it so freaking perfectly, its a n earworm that I hate but its so funny. Very Europop vibe to it, giving me jamboree vibes yet again. She reminds me of Taylor Swift and her little daughter was so sweet. This has gone down pretty well I think. Rank no.12

Now, I've finished my part and I didn't watch the after bits cos I was too busy falling asleep from slimane. Compared to last year, completely underwhelming but its decent. Some hhits hit, others missed the board completely. Sorry about even worse grammar and spelling than last year but that's all folks, see you in 2025.

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f1tyreslightmyfyre · 7 months

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Immortal Artistry - Ch. 4

Series Main List

A Vampire AU F1 Fic Featuring Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader, George Russell x Fem!Reader, hints of Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader, Lestappen, Sebchal, and Sainzell (or Russainz?)

Also on AO3

Ch. 4 Warnings: Language; stalker behavior; abduction; vampire blood violence and thrall; WWII references to Hitler and Nazi regime; non-graphic violence, murder and death; reader panic attack

A/N: Thank you for all the love on this fic!! This one holds a special place in my heart, so hope y'all enjoy ❤️

2023

Just a dream.

Only a dream.

You have to keep reminding yourself. Because thinking any differently just… rots your stomach.

It doesn’t help that it’s all so vivid. You can still see the handsome features of Max’s sharp profile in the parking garage lot lights. You can still hear Charles’ mellifluous tones inside his elegant home. You can still remember the crippling fear followed by blinding relief.

… And that’s when you woke up in your bed. Utterly alone. Utterly discombobulated. Utterly just… exhausted.

The workday hasn’t treated you any better, unfortunately. The company is still evaluating their options after Xavier’s passing and you’re supporting however they ask you to. Somehow, it only feels like your workload has tripled, though. At least, it helps keep you distracted from… well, whatever happened last night.

“Just a dream.”

With a sigh, you take another sip of your tea, letting the heat and herbal flavor wash over your tongue. After leaving the office, the last thing you wanted to do was go back to your disconcertingly empty apartment, and the coffee shop around the corner has always been a favorite. With cushy chairs and secluded nooks, it’s a perfect place for you to keep working through your email backlog long after the setting sun paints the sky black.

And to keep you from not dwelling on the unsettling memories of Charles’ handsome smile or Max’s broad shoulders. Or the inexplicable fact that George seemed to be the whole reason that they… well, that you supposedly dreamed this crazy dream.

“Just a dream.”

With another sigh, you rub at your stiff neck and glance up at the ceiling. Your muscles pop and creak with the motion, relaxing even as your mind continues to churn. Just what the hell are you going to do now? Do you do anything? What even can you do? It wasn’t real, right? It didn’t happen, right?

Right??

You glance back down at your laptop, reaching for your tea when a sudden knock on the window makes you jump. With wide eyes, you turn and the sight makes your stomach drop to your feet. George’s handsome, smiling face peers down at you through the glass as he waves enthusiastically. Words fail you as you sit, just stunned to see him so… so suddenly. He motions towards himself and around the building, and your heart rate jumps as he walks towards the door.

Your mouth goes dry at the implication, and quickly you debate if you can chug your tea and pack your belongings quick enough… but no such luck.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a night owl.” George says with a kind smile as he approaches your small table.

Despite the unease churning in your stomach, you can’t bring yourself to be rude. “I’m not… at least, not usually anyway.” Your offer a small smile. “My boss preferred early morning meetings.”

George’s face softens with concern. “I can’t imagine how hard of an adjustment it must be for you… I don’t think I would be able to set foot in the building again if my boss died.” He nods at the chair opposite you. “May I join you?”

Your anxiety ratchets to a whole new level, and you work a dry swallow down your throat. Why are you so ridiculously nervous? It was just a dream… it was, right? “S-Sure.” You say with a nod, exhaling a heavy sigh. “I’m just… just trying to wrap some things up.”

“Oh, man, tell me about it,” George sighs in return, gracefully sitting opposite. “It’s like the work never ends, I swear. How many people can possibly have so many legal troubles all at once?”

A smirk lifts the corner of your mouth. “It is a bit crazy… seems like it’s a byproduct of our modern world. Every time you buy something, you buy the right to sue someone, I guess.”

“Except that’s the funniest part.” George laughs softly. “People don’t even know what they’re buying. Each time they blindly click on ‘I agree’ in the terms and conditions boxes, they could be agreeing to sell their firstborn, for all they know.” He shakes his head as his face falls. “It’s sad how many case reports I write where the answer is just to quote some paragraph of the vendor’s terms agreement and then, case closed.”

You hum in agreement. “That’s why we get paid the big bucks, right?”

George scoffs. “Yeah, right. Maybe someday… or maybe if I was my boss….” He trails off, and silence hangs between you. His blue eyes linger on your face, and you quickly glance down at your laptop, suddenly unable to stop nagging words that churn in your brain.

“And paramount for your own safety, never look him in the eyes.”

Another spike of anxiety stabs through you as you wet your top lip.

“Forgive my asking,” George says quietly. “But are you alright? You look… unwell.”

Your heart lodges in your throat as you scramble for words. “I’m fine, I just….” Your palms turn sweaty against your laptop as you refuse to look up. “It was just a day, you know.”

“It’s more than that, I think.” George’s shadow shifts closer on the table. “The dark circles under your eyes speak to at least one sleepless night.”

“I-I didn’t sleep well last night. Hence, the bad day today.”

“Oh, I am sorry to hear that. Sounds like you should call it a night – may I… as corny as this may sound,” he says bashfully. “May I walk you home?”

An anxious sigh escapes you, and you can’t hold back. “Look, George – that’s really sweet of you, and you’re very thoughtful for asking but I… well, I don’t know if we should speak anymore.”

A stunned beat of silence passes, and you chance a glance up to catch the surprised set of his mouth. “My goodness,” he says, more bewildered than offended. “That seems so sudden, but look, whatever I’ve done, I fully apologize – I never meant to offend you or intrude. You could have just told me no when I asked to join you.”

“I know I could have, and I’m sorry about that. It’s just been… hard, lately. And I don’t…” you sigh heavily. “Ugh, I don’t know what to think.” Bracing your elbows on the table, you drop your head in your hands, grasping for a moment of clarity. If your meeting with Charles and Max wasn’t the dream you think is, then just why should you believe them over George? After all, it was Charles and Max who maybe kidnapped you last night, and George has done nothing but offer you kind support at every turn.

Perhaps that should make him all the more suspicious.

A chilled hand comes to rest gently against yours still holding your head. George’s skin is soft and his fingers firm as he gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “Again, if you’ll forgive me,” he murmurs. “It looks like the last thing you need is to be alone right now. Perhaps an ear for your troubles is just what you need.”

“I think I just need to go to bed.” You say to the tabletop, not thinking about the tender brushes of his thumb against your hand.

“Well, if you’d really like… I could help with that, too.”

Your head jerks up, a flush rising in your cheeks at his blatant innuendo. Despite all his proper manners to date, he doesn’t look the least bit ashamed as the hint of a wicked smirk lifts his lips. It tugs a flustered smile to your own face as you withdraw your hands and shake your head. “I… definitely don’t think that’s a good idea,” you sigh and go for broke. “I was warned about you, you know.”

His eyebrows climb to his hairline. “Warned about me? Oh, no,” he laughs incredulously. “By whom? It couldn’t possibly be someone at work… I haven’t been there long enough…”

“It was…” you pause as you scramble to answer. “Err, my boyfriend.”

George fixes you another look of astonishment and you deliberately focus on a point over his shoulder. “No way… that’s just insane you’re actually dating one of my mates and he never told me. Well, come on – now I have to know!” His face brightens with an amused laugh. “Is it Lewis? Or Mick?”

You nibble your lip, shaking your head. “No.”

“Well, how about Fernando? Or… maybe Charles?”

Your spine stiffens as your breath catches. Just why the fuck did he say Charles? It’s not possible that he just conjured that name out of thin air. There’s no way in hell that should have happened… coincidences like that just don’t happen.

Do they?

Your stomach sours as your mind races into overdrive. Oh, fuck, what have you done? Have you just ruined everything?

“So, it is Charles.” George says with a definitive edge, and you dart your hopefully not-too panicked gaze up to him. But clearly, the look on your face has told him everything he needs to know as he fixes you with a suddenly hard, assessing stare.

You force your eyes closed, quickly turning your head. Your heart threatens to beat out of your chest, and God, you need to leave. Now.

George clucks his tongue as he shifts forward in his chair. “I must confess that’s disappointing. Both of him and yourself.” He shakes his head as his mouth tightens with resolve. “I really thought you were smarter than that. Smart enough to see through him… to see that what he’s doing is just wrong.”

“I don’t have the first clue what he’s doing… or what you’re talking about.” You say, shaking your head, frustration tightening your voice. “I don’t have a fucking clue about anything going on here!”

“But he gave it to you. You have it, don’t you? Xavier didn’t have it.”

Fear ripples down your spine, mixing with your confusion. “I-I don’t have anything… he’s given me nothing.”

George’s sharp gaze runs you up and down as his nostrils flare. “Yeah, I can see that, but that doesn’t mean you don’t know where it is.”

He moves faster than you can blink and the breath punches from your lungs at the impact. You’re on your feet, held by the impossible strength of his slender arms as your mind spins. Your back connects with the solid wall as he cages you close, and while the impact is gentle, the rush of motion leaves your vision blurred. A cry lodges in your throat as his hand finds the smooth skin of your neck, pinching off the sound. Your hands try to claw at him, but he’s too strong and you’re too trapped.

Some distant part of your mind wonders why any of the other patrons in the shop aren’t rushing to your aid, but it’s drowned by the panic that threatens to consume you.

A whimper escapes your lips as you pry at the iron grip of his hands. “Please… George, I don’t-”

“And it doesn’t matter.” His voice drips with wicked sin as he hovers by your ear, so close to feel the puffs of his words on your skin. Because he doesn’t breathe… he doesn’t. “Your fear smells delectable,” he murmurs as you tremble. “I imagine it must taste even better.”

“N-no,” you gasp as a tear slides down your cheek. “Please, don’t…”

Another tear rolls down your cheek as he nuzzles along the exposed side of your neck, and you feel the scrape of teeth along your skin. Terror grips you tight as you claw at his shoulder, desperate to flee, helplessly caught in the trap of his embrace.

“Were you this frightened for Charles, hmm?” He pulls back just enough to reveal the deep sapphire tint of his eyes and sharp, pointed canines that steal your breath. Your eyes go wide, fixated on the unnaturally lethal teeth as he holds you closer. He hums in open appreciation as he lowers his head. “I can’t imagine how he resisted you��”

His cool lips seal against your skin before the solid weight of him is ripped away. You draw a shuddering gasp as the weight of him lifts from your throat and you watch with blurred vision. The face from your dream - Max - stands just a little shorter than George but seemingly more powerful as he wrenches the slender man around as if he weighs nothing. Max’s superhuman strength dominates the rapid confrontation until George lays on the floor, seemingly unconscious.

Tears stream freely down your cheeks as you gulp for breath, wrapping your arms around yourself. God, you’ve never been attacked like that… or assaulted, or so close to being… well, what exactly was George going to do to you? His teeth… fuck, you’ve never seen teeth like that, either. It’s like… like something out of fantasy.

Or horror.

Incredulity mixes with the confusion and terror and panic overloading your system as you heave for breath through uncontrollable sobs.

“Careful, hey - just calm down.” Max’s disconcertingly familiar voice echoes above the roar of blood in your ears. “You’re alright. He didn’t get you.”

“But I don’t -” You gasp as you exhale another rushed, tearful breath. “I don’t know what’s happening. I didn’t do… anything!”

“Yeah, I know,” Max nods with an apologetic shrug. “You’re… collateral damage, I suppose.”

Another sob wracks your fame as you struggle to gulp down air. “That’s not helping!”

“Then, what will?” Max counters, glancing around before he motions down at George’s motionless figure. “He won’t bother you for a while yet, and no one else here will remember this.”

You raise your hands to your head as a splitting ache threatens to crack your skull open. “That’s not… what I meant…. This - this is so fucked up!”

“Come on, you - you should really calm down.” Max tries again as he steps forward, and you instantly step back.

You have to keep the distance between you. You can’t let him get you. You can’t let him play you like George… you can’t let him take you like he did last night… you can’t… you just can’t -

“Breathe,” Max’s voice suddenly sounds far away, faint over a growing buzz in your ears. “It won’t help if you hyperventilate -”

Darkness consumes you.

1943

Ever since the Spanish Inquisition, Carlos has lost his taste for religion.

Perhaps it’s because he was arrested off the street with no explanation. Perhaps it’s because the priests drove needles under his fingernails to get his confession for sins he didn’t commit. Perhaps it’s because he was sentenced to death by purifying fire by the very church he spent his life honoring.

But perhaps it’s because he was saved by a devil masquerading as an agent of heaven. And that devil gave him a whole new life.

Not that Carlos still considers his sire to be a devil. Nor himself, for that matter. 517 years have long given him perspective and patience to understand the identity of ‘vampire’.

Even though his eternal existence is confined to nightfall and subsists feeding from mortals, he still tries to make the most of it. Over the centuries, he finds that his appetite for contribution far exceeds his appetite for confrontation – and that’s what leads him to Italy.

Or what’s left of it.

The Allied advance towards Rome has stalled in the harsh winter months, unable to break through the heavily fortified Nazi lines. Wounded soldiers pour in from the front lines around the clock, and no one asks Carlos any questions as he tends to them by candlelight. The pungent odors of death and decay don’t bother him, and the sight of blood has long stopped tempting him.

But if he’s honest with himself – as he lays for dreamless rest in the wee hours of dawn – it’s the men’s agonized cries that haunt him the most.

Perhaps he’s just a glutton for punishment. Perhaps Catholic guilt never abandoned him after all. Perhaps he is just too empathetic.

He doesn’t let it slow him down, though. Wearing a soiled uniform from a fallen soldier, he moves among the dim shadows, surveying the rows of wounded men trying to sleep. Coughs permeate the air, combined with low whispers, whimpers and moans – there’s precious little peace to be found, but somehow, Carlos knows this is where he belongs.

A soldier’s high-pitched gasp echoes in the crude tent. It’s closely followed by a moan and cry of anguish, and Carlos weaves through the cots towards the source of the sounds. The man’s fingers clench with a white-knuckled grip on the bedcovers as he writhes in obvious pain. Carlos doesn’t know what brought on the sudden fit, but there��s precious little that he can do for the soldier. Except….

“Here, be still.” Carlos shushes quietly, reaching a hand down to cup the soldier’s youthful face. “Look at me… just at me.” His gaze connects with the panicked agony in the man’s hazel eyes, and Carlos reaches out.

The soldier falls quiet, stilling against the bedcovers as Carlos’ thrall takes hold. Gently, he eases the soldier’s head down against the pillow. “Descansa ahora, mi hijo.” Carlos whispers, satisfied as the man’s eyes drop closed before he moves his hand down to the poor excuse for a blanket and resettles it over the soldier’s gaping uniform. Most of the shoulder fabric has been cut to make way for the doctors and bandages, and there’s little else to ward off the invasive winter’s cold.

“I thought Spain was neutral.” A British accented voice calls out softly. “Yet you wear a British uniform.”

Carlos turns and finds another soldier propped against his flat pillow, staring at him with sharp ice blue eyes. Most of the mortals seem content to ignore him, but through the grime marring the man’s face, Carlos can read the open curiosity. “I’m Spanish through my father, and British through my mother.” Carlos says, reciting the easy and familiar falsehood. “So, here I am.”

The blue-eyed soldier blinks up at him. “It’s obvious that you have a way with people.” His gaze slides down at the now quietly dozing soldier. “Not everyone can do that.”

Carlos shrugs as he steps over towards the soldier. “I’ve been told I have a gift for helping people.” He reaches down, tucking the blanket tighter around the man’s legs and the scent hits him. Gangrene always tinges blood with a rotten musk, and if this soldier hasn’t lost his leg yet, he soon will. Carlos swallows the thought as he gently arranges the blanket around the festering wound. “You should be sleeping.”

“In this place?” The soldier replies with a scoff and a weak shake of his head. “Yeah, that’d take a miracle.”

True enough, dark circles sag under his blue eyes, not helped by the sharp angles of his gaunt face. Carlos blinks down at him as he speaks. “How long have you been here?”

A baffled smile cracks the Briton’s face. “Are you serious, mate? Time has no relevance in hell.”

“This is not hell.” Carlos counters with a quick shake of his head. “I think Hell would be more merciful than this.”

“Well… I’ll let you know when I get there.” The soldier’s eyes drop closed as a hard swallow works down throat. “It’s gangrene, they say. Lack of supplies prevents them from amputating, and maybe I should be grateful for that, but now… I’m just waiting here to die.”

“Everyone here is just waiting to die.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t seem to bother you.”

“Humans have been dying for centuries and will continue to do so, even without global war.”

The soldier nods as his mouth pinches to a tight, frustrated line. “Then, may flights of angels sing me to my rest.”

“Shakespeare.” A fond smile comes to Carlos’ face. “Not many people quote him anymore.”

The soldier arches a brow. “Did they ever?”

Carlos nods. “Around the 18th century, I think it was – his plays were very popular throughout the continent.”

“You must be a historian, then.”

“Something like that.”

The Briton’s blue eyes narrow. “And here I thought you were a doctor.”

“Whatever I am, I’m certainly not that.” Carlos says, glancing up as he overhears a gurgled cry above the other sounds of human noises. “Now, you should really try and get some rest… what’s your name?”

The corner of the soldier’s mouth lifts with a wry smirk. “Dead Man Walking… or rather, Laying.” He glances up at Carlos. “What’s yours?”

An answering smirk tugs to Carlos’ face. “I’ll tell you tomorrow after you sleep.”

“If I’m still here, that is.”

Carlos runs his gaze over the prone man before nodding definitively. “You will be.” He rests an encouraging hand on the man’s thigh. “I promise.”

“Maybe I was wrong.” The soldier says the following night. “You’re not a historian or a doctor… you’re a philosopher.”

Carlos shakes his head as his brow furrows with suspicion. “You’re quite intent on finding out what I am.”

The man shrugs weakly. “I’ve had little else to do but watch, and talking with you last night was the most stimulating conversation I’ve had in ages, and you’re… you’re different.” He tilts his head as if trying to understand. “Somehow, you don’t just look, but instead you see. You don’t just touch, instead you feel. It’s obvious that you care, but you… you’re so indifferent to it. As if you know it couldn’t possibly touch you-”

“And you’re far too perceptive for your own good.” Carlos cuts him off swiftly, stunned by the gravity of the soldier’s words. Rarely has he ever met such a keen mortal. Rarely has anyone ever observed him so closely. As the hunter used to stalking his prey, the realization is unnerving and perhaps troubling. Has he been too obvious? Would others start asking questions? Would he need to relocate to a different unit before long?

“I’m dying and you know it.” The soldier says quietly. “What does it really matter what I am?”

Carlos cuts him with a sharp glare in the dim candlelight. “Everyone matters. Every soul at every moment, no matter how long their moment.”

The soldier glances around the tent in contemplation as the sounds of life and death echo around them. When those blue eyes reconnect with Carlos’, they hold something infinitely sad. “My name is George. George Russell.”

“Carlos.” For once, he doesn’t hesitate to give his real name. “Carlos Sainz.”

“What do you suppose happens after we die?” George asks two nights later. Fever flushes his skin, and his breathing holds the faintest waiver. The putrid odor of gangrene drowns out every other scent as Carlos approaches his bedside.

Honestly, it’s a question Carlos has wondered about for 500 years as countless generations rise and fall before his eyes. He doesn’t know if he’ll get to learn the answer for himself, but he’s hardly the person to ask. “I can call for a priest, if you like.” He answers softly. “I’m afraid I… wouldn’t really know what to say otherwise.”

George’s eyes drop closed, exhaustion evident in every line of his face. “I just hope it’s warm, you know… on the other side. I don’t care if that means heaven or hell.”

Something about that gnaws at Carlos’ heart. He doesn’t know why George has gotten so under his skin, but he can’t recall the last time he was so taken with a mortal. So taken that he… “What if I told you,” he starts carefully. “That death doesn’t have to be the end. That it can be… a transformation.”

George snorts faintly. “Then, I would ask if you’re sure you aren’t a priest.” A tremor seizes his voice as he rasps for breath. “Isn’t that what they all say? ‘Death is just a beginning….’”

“Mortals have always found that thought comforting.”

George’s blue eyes go wide despite his weakened state, staring up at Carlos with newfound, bewildered realization. “Mortals… implying that you’re….” His voice trails off as a visible swallow works down his throat. “I knew there was something off about you, but for the life of me… I couldn’t place it.”

A sad lift comes to the corner of Carlos’ mouth. “You asked me if I was a historian, or a doctor, or a philosopher – I’m not any of those things.” He shakes his head gently. “I’m just someone who has lived over five centuries of lifetimes.”

“Five centuries….” George echoes in a faint, rattling whisper. “That… that must be… nice.”

“You can judge that for yourself… if you want.” The unspoken offer hangs in the air as Carlos holds George’s gaze, heavy with the gravity of intention. He’s careful to hold back his thrall, though – this needs to be George’s unimpaired decision.

Another swallow works down George’s throat and his lungs rattle with fluid as fever burns. “If I want… to become like you…” His eyes break away to glance down at his dying body. “And it’s not already too late…?”

“No,” Carlos reassures. “But you’re nearing the point of no return.”

“Would you have chosen differently?”

It’s a question that Carlos has long asked himself, but each time he does, he’s taken back to the squalor of his dungeon prison cell. To the agonizing pain that crippled his hands and the tarnish upon his soul for the lies that he told just to ease the pain. Pushing the sickening memories away, he shakes his head. “No,” he says with conviction. “The men of the Inquisition only knew savagery without mercy, and this… this transformation was a blessing. And I still try to treat it as such.”

George stares up at him as if just truly seeing him for the first time. Perhaps Carlos should feel a little guilty for sharing his experience with immortality – not everyone adjusts to it or finds ways to pass the endless stream of days. But even in the short time Carlos has known George, the bright blue-eyed mortal has continued to surprise him.

“Then, how…” George sighs with a grimace. “How do I receive that blessing, too?”

Carlos fixes him with a firm, solemn gaze. “Is that what you want? I need to hear you say it…”

Another hard swallow works down George’s throat, but he holds Carlos’ gaze with determined resolution. “Yes… I want it.”

Carlos nods gently, casting his gaze about the tent. There are too many witnesses, and really, it’s best to be alone for such an intimate, vulnerable moment. “We’ll need to go away from here, outside… to draw less attention.”

Despite his frail state, the corner of George’s mouth ticks up. “Hopefully I won’t die before then.”

Carlos takes a second to focus on the steady rhythm of George’s heart before shaking his head. “You won’t.” He reassures as he starts to pull back the bedcovers. “Your lungs may be filling with fluid and your flesh rotting, but your heart still beats strong.”

George’s face flashes with incredulity. “You can hear all of that?”

“And smell it.” Carlos catches George’s gaze. “Soon enough, you will, too. Not in yourself anymore, but in others…” He lifts his head for one last survey of the tent. “I’m going to carry you out of here, but you need to stay quiet if we want to go unnoticed.”

A weak snort that ends in a gurgle passes George’s lips. “I can’t imagine you carrying me will hurt any worse than I already do.”

“I hope not.” Carlos agrees as he works an arm under George’s knees and behind his shoulders. Up close, the pungent odor of dying, rotting flesh nearly makes Carlos wretch, but he forces himself to focus. “On three,” he says softly. “One, two… three.”

A whimpering groan sounds in George’s throat as Carlos hefts him from the bed, holding him close against his chest in a bridal carry. George’s breath comes in quick, shallow draws as he bites down on his lip, and Carlos starts towards the main tent flaps, careful not to jostle George any more than he needs to.

He nearly makes it through the dim shadows before a stern-faced doctor steps in front of him. He glares down at George before staring up at Carlos, his face full of disapproval. “Where are you taking this man?”

“He asked to see the stars, sir.” Carlos answers without flinching. “For one last time…”

The doctor darts his wary gaze back down to George, looking him over in quick assessment. “In his condition, as cold as it is outside…” he pauses to look back at Carlos with a hard, grim truth. “His bed won’t be waiting for him.”

George summons a weak – perhaps it’s meant to be a chuckle, but his voice rasps and rattles too much. “I won’t need it, doc.”

A helpless, heartbroken expression cracks the doctor’s face for the briefest of seconds as he nods and steps out of Carlos’ way. He tightens his hold on the man in his arms as he shoulders his way out of the tent and into the bitterly frozen night. Shivers immediately seize George’s thin frame as he curls in closer to Carlos, and Carlos does his best to offer a shield against the wind. But the cold is too suffocating, too biting.

It doesn’t take him long to spot a half-splintered, rotting tree trunk that stands lone sentry on the outskirts of the military encampment. It takes even less time for him to sit with his back against the frozen bark and situate George between his outstretched legs. With George’s back flush against his chest, Carlos can feel each tremble that shakes George’s bones, feel each rattling breath in his rotting lungs.

George tips his head up, gingerly looking around. “You know, they are beautiful.” He says wistfully. “The s-stars… until you said something, I… I had forgotten they were up there.”

Carlos wraps a comforting arm around George’s stomach, holding him close. “That’s important, you know.” He says softly as he turns in towards the young Briton, nuzzling the young man’s cheek. “To keep finding the beauty in this world no matter how ugly things get.”

“I-is that w-what 500 years has taught you?”

“That,” Carlos agrees softly. “And much more.”

George attempts to draw a deep breath, but between the cold and his failing lungs, he stutters out a cough. “I’m ready – p-please…”

Carlos bares his fangs, dragging his nose down George’s jaw towards where his jugular rests just beneath the skin.

“W-will it hurt?”

Carlos shifts to tuck in closer against George’s neck, affection stirring in his chest as George’s arm wraps around his, holding onto him. “Yes,” Carlos whispers against George’s skin. “But whether it will hurt more than the pain you’re already feeling, I don’t know.”

George’s fingers grip Carlos’ forearm and his heartbeat quickens as the scent of fear fills Carlos’ nose. It’s unfair how sweet mortal fear smells, even when it’s heavily tinged with the acrid odor of death. He blinks the thought away as he sinks his teeth into the soft flesh of George’s neck. The hot spill of blood washes over his tongue as he seals his lips to the punctured skin and sups in long, steady pulls.

Strangled moans die in George’s throat as he arches into the sensations flooding his body. Each time Carlos hollows his cheeks, the strength of George’s grip on his forearm fades and the rhythm of his heart slows. The Briton goes limp altogether and the moment is critical. Raising his own arm, Carlos pierces the vein on the underside of his wrist and presses it to George’s parted lips.

A transfer of blood and venom. That’s all it takes.

The mechanics are really quite simple even if the biology behind it escapes Carlos’ understanding.

Once he’s sealed both wounds, he tips his head back against the tree and waits. But it doesn’t take long before George starts seizing and convulsing in his arms.

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elisysd · 8 months

Text

7. Maybe together we can get somewhere

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack: Tracy Chapman - Fast Car

The sun was piercing through the curtains, waking up Julia. She took her time getting out of bed, letting the memories over the previous night rush over her. She took a quick shower before putting on an old Ferrari tee-shirt that she once borrowed from her dad (and never gave back) and some sweatpants. She was going to work a little bit on the data that some engineer from Warsaw had sent yesterday. She needed to be comfortable. A quick detour to the kitchen to make herself some toast and a cappuccino and she was ready to face her day. She came back to her room and sat at her desk. Before logging in, she unplugged her phone and quickly wen through the few texts messages and social media notifications. Her gaze was attracted by a name trending on Twitter and soon a text message from the same person that was under the spotlight on the app.

It worked.

She knew that she should stay away from the posts on social media, but curiosity got the better of her. She clicked on Ethan’s name and soon she was overwhelmed with pictures of them in the restaurant and hundreds of comments of people trying to guess who the girl in the pictures was. Investigations had begun and Julia knew it was only a matter of time before they get to her. A part of her knew that nothing would give away that it was her. The picture was blurry, the only thing you could see was her back and a brunette wearing a black dress was something pretty common. That was the rational part of her brain that was talking. But the tiny insecure one couldn’t help but play the devil’s advocate. What if someone had seen her and decided to speak? What if there were other pictures that were not online yet and someone decided to release them? Monaco was after all a small city, almost a village where everyone knew everyone. She could feel herself spiralling and nausea coming over her. She only had time to go to the toilet before emptying her stomach.

“Julia? Are you okay,” asked her mom that was passing by.

She knelled beside her daughter and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“I’m fine, I must have eaten something that my stomach didn’t like yesterday, that’s it.”

“You sure? Did everything go well yesterday? I didn’t hear you coming back.”

Julia’s only answer was to throw up again. It was as if her body was trying to tell her that the whole thing was a bad idea. She felt her mom’s cold hand on her neck and then moving up to her forehead.

“I’m not sick, mom.”

“You are throwing up and you are shivering, excuse me to feel a little worried.”

“It’s just the stress. That’s it. We have a lot of work to do…”

It was not a lie. It was just not the reason why Julia felt so sick.

“I knew it might not be a good idea to let you work in F1 right after graduating…” she heard her mom sigh.

“That’s my dream. I don’t want to work anywhere else.”

“I know, but sometimes you have to delay your dreams in order to feel ready. Maybe you could have started in F2, I know Fred still have some ties with Art Grand Prix…”

“No! I’m okay. I just need to get used to the pressure and I’ll be fine.” explained Julia, getting up.

“Come with me, I was about to make myself some tea. I’ll make you one. You need to drink.

Julia followed her mom as they make their way to the kitchen. Julia sat on a bar stool and watched silently her making the water boil in the kettle. The comfort silence was suddenly interrupted by angry footsteps coming from her father’s office. She heard him hanging up his phone call with rage and barging through the kitchen’s doors before sitting on the stool next to her. From the corner of her eyes she saw her mom taking another mug from the cabinet and pour a third cup of tea for her dad.

“What is happening?” asked Charles’ wife.

“We are screwed. We are not going to win a championship this year. It’s over. Lamborghini won.” he explained.

“Didn’t take you for a quitter, honey. That’s not the man I married.”

“It’s just… the data between the simulation and the actual data we collect during the race are strictly different. We are losing speed during straight lines, with or without DRS. We don’t know where the problem comes from yet, but I just had a call with our technical director isn’t optimistic about the upgrades we are working on for the Casa Grand Prix. I know I shouldn’t tell you that Julia, but I needed to let this out.”

Julia had rarely seen her dad so defeated and frustrated. Sure it happened before, when he was still driving, but he never was under the amount of pressure a Team Principal could receive and Julia could see the toll it was taking in him. She drank the rest of her tea in one gulp and went back to her room. Rummaging through her suitcase, she finally found the envelope she was searching for. She took out the USB drive and plugged it in her computer. In front of her eyes, dozen of documents could be seen. Pictures of the car, of notes taken by engineers, of date displaying on screens even blueprints of the car that Ethan might have copied from someone else’s computer. She was impressed by the dedication of her fake boyfriend to get her onboard. He really was not joking when he told her that he had important pieces of information. Of course, some things were lacking but Julia knew that if she studied them really hard, she could fill the blanks. A least she hoped so.

Downtown Monte-Carlo, in his flat Ethan was expecting Maserati’s PR manager phone call and was not surprises when he received it, right after his morning run.

“What were you thinking? We asked you to fake settling down not keep acting like a dick!”

Ethan sighed before drinking a huge glass of water in one gulp.

“And I’m working on it, but I can’t appear at the next GP with a girl out of nowhere. We have to make it believable. That’s what I’m doing. I called the paps yesterday. It’s under control, relax.”

“Who is the girl?” she asked.

“Not going to say. You will corner her and make her sign stuff, I know you. I don’t want you to make her run away, it was hard enough to get her onboard.”

“Ethan…”

“No. You will know when I’ll deem it useful for you to know. For now it’s not the case, but don’t worry, she is perfect. You have to trust me.”

He couldn’t help but smile, imaging the PR officer probably rolling her eyes at the idea of having to trust him. She was pissed of, he could hear it. But he didn’t care. For once, he had control on his life. Ever since he started to get big and under the spotlight, people tried to get advantage of his image. He stopped counting the number of brands that contacted him and the photoshoots he had done in the past. And of course people that tried to use him because of his father. He was not stupid, contrary to what other people might think and what it seemed. He knew who he could trust and who he couldn’t. But as his dad once said to him, really early in his career: “ You will attract dishonest people like corpses attract vultures, don’t hesitate to use them the way they will use you.”

“You’ve never made it easy for us to trust you.”

“See that as a new start.” he replied.

Ashley ended the call, not without making him promise to not do anything stupid. They didn’t need another scandal. Right after hanging up, his phone rang again and the name of his mother appeared on the screen. Ethan wondered if he should ignore it. He knew why his mother was calling, she must had seen the pictures and she wanted to know everything. But Ethan knew better, if he was not answering she was perfectly capable to come to his place and that was the last thing he wanted.

“Mom…”

“Were you on a date yesterday?” was the first thing she asked.

“Oh I’m fine mom. My flight was amazing and I made it home safely. The beginning of the season is not so great but I hope it will get better. I’m so happy you asked.”

“Smartass. So, do I know her? Is she from Monaco? How long have you seen each other? Why am I not aware of anything? You don’t tell me anything about your life lately…” she complained.

“Maybe I’m not telling you anything because it’s always like this! You are intrusive. It doesn’t matter what i do or it’s not good enough or it’s too risky or it’s too stupid. But it’s my life. I’m not fifteen anymore, I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”

He didn’t know where this was coming from. Probably a mix of everything that had happened the last few days. He was tired, under pressure and a part of him was scared the whole fake-dating would turn sour really quickly. He din’t entirely trust Julia. After all, he was giving the responsibility to save his career to a girl that hated his guts.

“I’m worried about you. And I wouldn’t need to if you had given me reasons to trust you in the past.”

He knew this conversation was not going anywhere. They both were too stubborn to admit their wrongdoings.

“How is dad?” he asked.

“Don’t try to change the subject, I still want to know who that girl is.”

“And I won’t tell you.”

“Is she from Monaco? Or Italian maybe? Or French?”

“She is Monegasque, born and raised here. See, happy?” he ended up saying, fed up by her questions.

“Oh so I might know her, then. Monaco is not that big.”

Ethan knew his mom. She was going to dig he was sure of it and that was the last thing he wanted. Because she knew that she was going to talk to other people and soon everyone will know that Ethan was dating someone. And that would mess with the whole plan him and Julia had come up with.

“Mom, it’s still early and I’m not even sure it will lead anywhere. Please, I’m not asking for much just let me go at my own pace and if it becomes serious I’ll let you know. I promise. But for now it’s too soon.”

He heard her sigh.

“Fine. Just one more question. How long has it been going on? Because with the scandal…”

“It’s been a few weeks.”

And that was another lie he could add on the pile that was starting to get big. He had to explain it to Julia so they wouldn’t mess with their relationship timeline in case questions were raised.

“Okay. Well, I’m happy for you Ethan, really. And I will be waiting for the day I’ll get to meet her. I won’t force you to talk about her if you don’t feel ready but you must care a lot about her if you are asking me to not mingle in your life. I’m glad you are happy and you finally found someone you want to spend time with.”

Ethan couldn’t help but feel a pinch of regret in his heart. He could hear his mom being genuinely happy for him and he knew that if she happened to know about the lie, it would crush her. He said his goodbye to her, promising to visit her soon and decided to go out. He needed to clear his mind after this conversation and to forget how of a liar he had become in the span of a few days. He was not proud of it. He felt bad, but Ethan was ready to do anything to keep his seat, even if he had to go as far as lying and potentially hurting his loved ones. He just hoped that the truth would never see the light of the day.He put on a jacket that was lying on his couch and left his flat. It was windy in Monaco, even a bit chilly, he could feel the salty air coming from the sea on his face. He took a deep breath before turning his dead to the left to see if a car was passing by before crossing the road and was surprised to notice a silhouette that he was becoming familiar with running in his direction.

Her brown hair pulled in a ponytail was bouncing from left to right, rhythmically with her footsteps. When she finally arrived near him, she was breathless and bright red from her run. He was about to say something when she interrupted him, pointing her finger in front of his face, silently shutting him up.

“Louis knows.” she said.

Ethan took a minute to understand what she meant.

“He knows? About us? What did you tell him?”

“Nothing, I swear. My brother is a genius and knows me better than anyone. I didn’t say anything, he put 2 and 2 together. He thinks we are dating. ”

“But you didn’t deny it.”

“I don’t want to lie to him.”

“Well you did lie, because technically we are not dating for real.”

“I don’t want to lie to him more than necessary.” she added.

“My mom is suspicious. I mean, you know her, you know how much she likes gossips so it shouldn’t surprise you to learn that she knows about the rumours and she saw the pictures. It will probably only be a matter of time before she finds out about you and I.”

Julia leaned over the wall and let herself gliding to the floor. She didn’t think about that. She didn’t think about how great friends her mom and Ethan’s were. If Kat met up with Lyanna, chances were high that they would talk about their kids. And Ethan’s dating life would be mentioned and then Lyanna would probably tell Kat that Julia had been on a date, because Julia knew for sure that her mom didn’t believe her when she said she was going to meet some friends. And then, their cover would blow up. Their moms would questioned them. Julia closed her eyes and try to take a deep breath that was soon caught up in her throat preventing her from exhaling normally. She tried to stand and started to pace back in forth, her breathing shallow, to organised her thoughts. But no matter how hard she tried to compartment her thoughts, new ones were adding up to the pile and she soon felt like the whole world was crushing down on her shoulders. She tried to keep the tears from falling by shaking her head but it was no use.

Ethan didn’t know what to do and he ended up doing the one thing he thought about. He put his body in front of her and his two hands on her shoulders firmly, forcing her to stop. She looked at him, anchoring herself in his blue eyes that was staring at her with a harden look.

“Julia… hey, Joolsie. Stop and listen to me. We are in this shit together, I dragged you into it. I may be an ass but i’m not ungrateful. You were kind enough to help me and you will go through enough of shit because of me. I promise you, I will try to make this whole dating thing the less painful possible. I owe you a big one, I’m not going to let you down. And you know me, you know that when I promise something, I don’t back down on it.”

It calmed her down a little bit. They tacitly decided to walk along the harbour, as Ethan lived nearby and they knew that there wouldn’t be a lot of people. The walk was silent as they didn’t know what to say. Julia was still deep in her thoughts and Ethan was eyeing her from the side. She really looked like Charles, he thought. The same way to carry themselves, the same hazel eyes, the same driven attitude and fiery look when they set their eyes on something. He never really paid attention before. He would even go as far as to say that she was pretty and in another life, she would have been his type. But she was Julia and he was Ethan and so, he put this thought in a box and far away in his mind.

They found a quiet spot away from the main road and near the sea. They sat on the only bench and looked at the coastline.

“This is my favourite place when I need somewhere to cool off.” Ethan told her, breaking the silence.

“Mine is the big cabin in our garden, at home. It’s used as a screaming room when someone needs to let go of some stress or anger. It was my mom’s idea, so no one would shout again one another and Louis had somewhere to go if he felt the need to be on his own, in a safe environment.” she explained with a bittersweet smile when she mentioned her brother.

“How is he? Is he still home schooled?”

“Yeah. It’s still hard for him to be around a lot of people for more than an hour…”

“But, how can he get used to it if your parents keep him sheltered?”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell them but… they are scared I guess.”

‘It must be hard, no? To have a brother like him.’

He saw her glared at him and added quickly that in no mean did he think that Louis wasn’t normal.

“He has ups and down. Like everyone, I guess. But his are always very high or very low. He doesn’t know how to recognise what he feels. It can take him days to put a word on a feeling. So, yeah… it’s hard. Sometimes it feels like no matter what we all do to help him, it’s not enough.”

“Does he have friends or is he really lonely?”

“He has Percy, Lando’s son. I don’t know if Louis considers him as friend, but I know that they chat online from time to time. That’s the closest thing he has of a friend and contact with the outside world.” she fidgeted with her red bracelet, her gaze set on it.

“And you, do you have friends, Joolsie?”

She was about to answer when a girl interrupted them. She was young, probably around fourteen years old with blond curls falling down on her shoulders.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt but, are you Ethan Verstappen?”

Julia looked away and put distance between them as Ethan replied with a smiled and posed with the girl for a selfie. As she left, not without thanking Ethan one last time and wishing him the best of luck for the season, they left their spot and wandered off the street. As they were planning their next move, Julia’s phones buzz and a text from her mom appeared on the screen.

It’s getting late, Ju’. Are you far from home?

She looked at the time and realised that she was almost late for dinner and the sun was about to set.

“I have to go. I don’t want to upset my mom more than she probably already is, I didn’t realise that it was late. We’ve been out for hours, I didn’t notice.” she told Ethan.

“Who would have thought that we could manage to stay out together for hours and not rip each other’s heads off? Look, we made it out alive. Maybe, this whole fake dating thing might work.” Ethan teased her.

She laughed slightly before waving him goodbye.

When she finally got back home and was surprised to see her dad playing with Bailey and her ball. He was sitting down on the stairs of the porch and seemed down which alarmed Julia. She didn’t like seeing him like this because it meant that something happened with Louis.

“Dad? Is everything okay?”

He looked up to her and sighed, before scooting over to give her some space to sit down.

“I messed up with your brother. Again.” he confessed with a low voice.

“What happened?” she asked gently putting her head on his shoulder as she felt her dad’s cheek resting on the top of her head.

“I involuntarily triggered him and now he locked himself in his room and doesn’t want to see anyone. He… he was playing piano and I… I’m stupid. I just thought that maybe I could play with him, that it could be a nice bonding moment. That if I can’t get through him with words maybe I can let music do the talking, you know? I startled him. I know that I should have made myself seen. Instead I just went and scared him. He started to panic because he didn’t feel that I was around and I tried to reassure him. I naturally put a hand on his shoulder and I shouldn’t have. I know that he doesn’t like when someone touch him without his permission. And he started to scream. The more I was trying to calm him down, the worst I made everything.”

“It’s not your fault, dad…” Julia tried to comfort him.

“I fail him, Ju’. Times and times again. I’ve always failed him and I keep on doing so. Why am I such a bad dad to him?”

“You’re not a bad dad. You try your best, like you always do. And maybe it won’t be today or tomorrow, but I know that it will get better. Because when you want something, you do everything you can to achieve it.”

She felt her dad’s head nuzzling against hers and his embrace being stronger.

“I love you, princess. I feel like I don’t tell you that enough.”

She grabbed his hand and squeezed it before standing up. The house was quiet. Her feet dragged her to her brother’s bedroom where her mother was talking to a closed door.

“Louis, baby, please open the door. Talk to me, please. Daddy is so sorry he didn’t want any of that to happen.”

She seemed tired and Julia regretted to have not come back earlier. Maybe if she had been there, the incident wouldn’t have happened.

“Mom? I’m taking it from here. Go see dad, I think he needs you.”

“You sure?”

Julia nodded and when her mom was out of sight she stuck her ear against the door, trying to hear something from the inside.

“Hey munchkin. Can I come in? I promise you, it’s only me.”

She waited for what felt like minutes before the door opened slightly. It was just a crack but it was big enough to allow Julia to slip through it. Louis was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall near the door. Getting closer to him, Julia noticed he was shaking slightly. She sat beside him, careful to not go to close in case it would trigger another crisis.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked softly, her voice barely a whisper.

“Dad hates me.” he ended up saying, is voice hoarse from the screaming and the crying.

“Why would you think that?”

“I just know it. He is ashamed of me.”

“Louis… it’s not true. You know that.”

“Yes it is. I surprised a conversation between him and mom once. I know it’s bad to eavesdrop and I didn’t want to but then I heard my name…”

“What did you hear?”

“Dad saying that he would have loved to have a son that was into racing and who would have been like him. That he would have loved to know how grandpa was feeling when dad was competing in karting. Because it would have brought him closer to his dad. He would have preferred to have a normal son and not a weirdo like me. He didn’t say that but it felt like it.”

Julia didn’t really know what to say but one thing was for sure, she knew that Louis had misinterpreted whatever he had heard and was not meant to. She would talk to her mom about it later.

“Normality is overrated Louis. And I wouldn’t want another brother. You are perfect just the way you are.”

It made him feel a little bit better. At least he wasn’t shaking anymore. She pulled out of her pockets his favourite sweets that she always kept on her in case of emergency occurring with him. The smile that she managed to get it from him, made her happy and it’s with a lighter heart that she went back to her room. As she was about to plugged her phone, she saw he text from Ethan, appearing at the top of her notifications.

Hey, I hope you made it home safe and sound. The fan that asked for a picture earlier posted it online and she said that I was with who she thought was my girlfriend. It’s on a lot of gossip accounts. Just thought that I should let you know. Take care.

Julia gulped. Of course it was something that she imagined could have happened but she was so used to control everything that this slight inconvenience in their plan well thought was enough to make her anxious. It was real now, they could not back down. She couldn’t, not anymore. She opened Instagram and went to her profile. Maybe it was time for her to make it public. It would give her a sense of control over what was posting about her. She went in the app setting and opened the access to her profile.

author's note: This chapter was a pain in the ass to write so I'm very curious to have your thoughts about this one.

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. It helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

Taglist:

@herondalism @aundercover @musingsbyshreya @karmabyfernando @reengard @mycenterfold @smoooothoperator

#writing #fiction #charles leclerc #max verstappen #charles leclerc fanfic #max verstappen fanfic #f1 story #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x oc

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silverstonesainz-archive · 2 years

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i paused writing blurbs because i saw someone on tiktok say how many shots they would need to sleep with an f1 driver so i'm gonna do it here with the 2022 grid. how many shots do i need to approach and then sleep with an f1 driver, with commentary. no one asked but here i go.

for a frame of reference, it would take me about more or less 7 shots of hard liquor to get me to a good kind of drunk. anything beyond that i will be very stupid.

RED BULL

max - 2. i just need a bit of liquid courage to walk up to him. otherwise i think i could handle myself fairly well. also max lately??? whew. it doesn't take much to convince me. checo - 10. he is simply not my cup of tea. i look at him like a cool older cousin.

MERCEDES

lewis - 4. i just know his aura would be so intimidating but in the best way. i need all the help i can get to even APPROACH THAT MAN. george - 20. not a fan. will need to be blacked out to get through it.

FERRARI

charles - 3. another man with an intimidating aura. i feel like i couldn't get to him as easily, and i will need the alcohol to calm my weird and erratic behavior. but also look at him? i don't need much to convince me. carlos - 2. only needed to walk up to him. again, i think that i could pull that man if i tried hard enough. i would charm him. i also need to be about my wits if i ever sleep with this man are you joking?

MCLAREN

daniel - 5. i think i can match his energy, i just need the shot before i walk up to him. the other 4 is to get through the fact i'd be sleeping with someone who i share a name with. like imagine moaning your own name???? no. lando - 0. i can pull this man with minimal effort. he's easy, he looks easy. and i wanna be about my wits if i sleep with another scorpio man.

ALPINE

esteban - 7. he's also not my cup of tea. i think i could approach him and talk to him sober, but i need to be drunk to do it. fernando - 16. please i literally call him tío. i can't do it.

ALFA ROMEO

valterri - 6. im gonna need my sorority personality to be more amplified if im gonna pull anything from this man. he's so put together and im just naturally a hot mess. so yeah. zhou - 10. also not my cup of tea, not my type. so i need all the alcohol i can get to muscle through that.

ALPHATAURI

pierre - 1. for confidence. that man lowkey seems easy, i think i can pull. yuki - 20. pls hes so smol and i think of him as a little brother. i simply would not be able to take him seriously if i have any less than 20.

ASTON MARTIN

lance - 8. he's cute but he also doesnt do it for me. i also think that i wouldn't do it for him LMAO. but yeah like the first 3 to approach him, the last 5 to simply get through it. seb - 12. only because i do look at him like a fun uncle. but rbr seb? ferrari seb?? different story

HAAS

mick - 4. for sheer confidence. but i think i can charm him?? i think??? also like i want to be semi about my wits if it happens. kevin - 6. he also seems like such a stoic man and has that aura about him. i will need all the confidence i can get.

WILLIAMS

alex - 5. for confidence and to relax. i think hes so sweet, and i need that extra help to not come across as psycho. nick - 5. ngl... him post japan kinda hit different. im not normally attracted to him so 5 is a good middle ground to get through it all.

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totowlff · 2 years

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chapter five — trust

➝ ross brawn’s tumultuous departure from mercedes was nothing compared to what elisabeth and toto’s relationship had become. elisabeth goes to brackley to manage the fallout, but things only get more complicated.

➝ word count: 2,4k

➝ warnings: none

➝ author’s note: enjoy!

NOVEMBER, 2013

Elisabeth slammed the black car door with a force completely disproportionate to what it took to close it, but proportionate to the anger she felt. The sound caused by the impact caught the attention of two employees, who were standing in front of the curvilinear building, talking, their eyes widening as she approached.

— Good morning, Elisabeth — one of them greeted her. He had a smile on his face.

— Good morning — she replied, dryly, not even looking at him. Her steps were heavy as she entered the lobby of the Mercedes AMG F1 headquarters in Brackley, focused on a singular mission.

Confront Toto Wolff.

She’d received an email from Bradley Lord, the team’s communications director, the night before. The message contained a link to an article — an exclusive Motorsport Magazine interview with Ross Brawn, who had just said goodbye to the team after a turbulent season. His departure was apparently all very hush-hush.

Her personal relationship with Brawn was cordial, but it was impossible not to notice something strange in the air when he was with her father and Toto. The harmony that had existed between the three of them at that first dinner in Vienna had completely disappeared. The way she saw it, the reason for such animosity was the simple fact that there were too many people wanting to run the same team. His interview confirmed her suspicions.

However, Elisabeth hadn’t expected his revelations to be so harsh.

— What happened at Mercedes was that people I couldn’t trust were forced on me — she muttered, reading the article's lede, dropping the cup of chamomile tea she was sipping on her desk in disbelief.

The rest of the interview made her stomach churn, with Brawn claiming to be disappointed in her father and Toto’s approach to the business. However, what made her drive nearly two hours from her Soho apartment to Brackley was Ross’ statement regarding the hiring of Paddy Lowe as the executive director earlier that year. According to Ross, Toto laid all of the blame on Niki for the decision.

— Liar — she growled, clenching her fists.

She was at the dinner where the matter was discussed — it had been Toto’s idea to ask Lowe to work for Mercedes, starting in 2014. Her father was against the idea, saying it would be better to talk to Ross about it before signing anything with Paddy.

“How could he have been so underhanded?”, she thought, clenching her teeth.

With the clack of her heeled black shoes echoing on the gray floor, Elisabeth entered the building in silence, frowning. Her right hand was gripping the strap of her black bag that was slung over her shoulder. The oddly empty trophy case and the W03 displayed in the foyer were just blurs in her peripheral vision as she made her way to the elevator.

— Good morning, Miss Lauda — she stopped when she heard Alina, the receptionist, greet her warmly. As Elisabeth turned to face her, she concluded that her expression must have been frightening, as it made the smile on her face abruptly disappear.

— Is Wolff here today? — her voice came out cold as ice.

— Yes, Miss Lauda — she said, timidly.

— Great — she muttered, continuing towards the elevator in silence, the click of her heels following her.

The metal doors opened and Elisabeth stepped inside, pressing the button for the third floor. As the silver doors slid close, she turned to the mirror in the back of the elevator car, examining her reflection. Dressed in a black coat and with a red scarf wrapped around her neck, she looked elegant, however, her irritation was clear in her posture and in her expression.

As she exited the elevator, she looked both ways down the corridor before heading in the direction of Toto’s office. Elisabeth walked like a woman on a mission. She approached the glass-walled room and realized it was empty. The lights were off. However, the suit jacket hanging on the back of the chair was an indication that he was here, somewhere.

But… Where?

Elisabeth turned to the right and noticed that several pairs of eyes were looking at her with curiosity, peering over several rows of computer screens. They were probably wondering what Niki Lauda’s daughter was doing there in Brackley on a freezing Thursday, and why she looked so furious.

— Where is he? — she asked, jerking her thumb towards the office behind her. Her voice was completely absent of any warmth. It caused the employees to glance at each other, nervously.

— He’s in a meeting — a young man said, almost bracing himself for her reaction.

— Where? — Elisabeth said, looking directly at him, her tone firm. She wouldn’t be leaving that building today without speaking to Toto, face-to-face.

— End of the hall, last door on the left — a red-haired woman, sitting next to him, replied, her voice a little shaky.

The shadow of a smile passed over her lips.

“Time to talk, Toto”, she thought.

— Thanks — she said, abruptly. Elisabeth turned back to the hallway and walked towards the room the staff had pointed out. As she approached the door, she could hear voices from inside. One voice stood out — one with a distinct accent that she knew very well.

— Last on the left. Here it is — she muttered to herself. She reached out to grab the doorknob and took a deep breath. Elisabeth needed to gather her courage for this.

“Moment of truth”, she thought as she turned the knob, flinging the door open. Inside the room, there were at least seven people seated around a rectangular table, watching a presentation by a representative from Puma of next year’s team kit.

— Toto, we need to talk — she shouted. In one movement, all of the eyes in the room went from her to Toto, seated at the head of the table. He was sitting with his mouth slightly open, as if he couldn’t believe what she was doing.

— Elisabeth, I don’t know if you noticed, but you just…

— Interrupted your very important meeting about — she added, looking at the screen, which displayed some sketches — Commemorative caps? Yes, I’d noticed, and I don’t give a fuck.

Toto took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. He was irritated.

— Could you wait in my office until I’m done?

— Negative — she snapped.

— Please? — he practically purred.

— My business with you is way more important than this… Shit — she spat, gesturing at the screen with her head. The Puma representative glared at her, clearly outraged by her words.

— Liesl…

Toto using his silly nickname for her had her clenching her jaw, anger building inside her. Elisabeth couldn't understand how he could treat this situation like a joke, especially when it involved something as serious as her father's relationship with investors. Trying to control herself, she crossed her arms over her chest, impassive. With his eyes glued to her, Toto shifted in his chair and ran a hand through his brown hair, visibly uncomfortable.

She had definitely put him in an incredibly awkward position.

— I think a five-minute break wouldn’t do any harm — a woman said in a placating tone, rising from her seat — Right, Toto?

— Yes, absolutely — Toto replied absently, his eyes locked with Elisabeth’s.

— Shall I show you to our coffee counter, gentlemen? — the woman said, gesturing toward the door. Elisabeth was still standing at the threshold with her arms crossed, staring Toto down.

Slowly, the meeting’s attendees rose from their chairs and passed through the doorway, walking by her without a word. “Stupid asshole”, she thought as the Puma representative walked past her, staring at Elisabeth with a reproachful look, which was answered by her raised eyebrow.

When the final attendee left, she entered the room and turned back towards the door, closing it and clicking the lock shut. She didn’t want any interruptions, or for Toto to try to make a run for it. Then, Elisabeth turned to face him, dropping her black bag on the table as she walked in his direction. Toto followed her with his eyes, shifting in his chair, running a hand through his hair again.

— I’m all ears.

— You’d better be, because I have a lot to say — she said, resting her palms on the table, leaning over the surface. She was trying to stare him down, but Toto’s height meant that their eyes were level.

Toto sighed.

— Go ahead.

— What’s this I hear about you blaming my dad for hiring Paddy Lowe when Brawn came to talk to you?

— Ah, I see you read the interview — his expression changed as he connected the dots.

— Of course I read it, Bradley sent it to me last night!

He continued to gaze at her with an appraising stare.

— Come on, speak! — she exclaimed.

— Speak what?

— What the fuck was that idea of blaming my father? — she said, slapping the table.

— Well, Niki agreed with me…

— But he didn’t come up with the idea!

— I know, Elisabeth.

— So why did you say that to Brawn? — she was practically yelling now, standing from where she was leaning at the table. As she moved, Toto rose from his chair as well.

— Because I needed to buy time!

— And do you have any idea what you’ve done?

— What did I do, Elisabeth? — he asked in a mocking tone, which added to her irritation with him — Tell me what I did!

She rounded the table to approach him, her pulse roaring in her ears.

— You just sold out my dad as the main culprit for Brawn’s departure and you know how much investors liked him! What about my father’s image, Toto?

— You talk like Ross didn’t say I couldn’t be trusted, either! — he snapped, taking a step forward. He walked toward her, drawing himself up to his full height. He was so tall that Elisabeth had to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact with him. However, if Toto thought that would intimidate her, he was very wrong.

Actually, she found that she was… Turned on.

— How will he deal with the questions when he's not to blame?

— You're far too worried about this considering you have nothing to do with it — he spat.

— My father has a reputation to uphold, Toto!

— If he cared about his reputation, he would be here talking to me like a normal person instead of…

— Instead of what? — she screamed, getting as close to his face as she possibly could.

He stared down his nose at her, hesitant.

— If you have any balls, you’ll finish that sentence — she growled, close enough to him that they were practically touching, close enough that Elisabeth could feel the heat radiating off of his body.

— If he cared — Toto said, putting emphasis on each word. — He’d be here talking to me instead of sending his pretty little girl to yell at me.

She blinked. She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard.

— What did you just say?

— Fuck, Liesl — he growled, before putting his hands on her face and pulling her toward him. He brought his lips to hers with a delicacy that was a sharp contrast to the harsh words they’d just exchanged. The gentleness of his kiss dissolved all the anger and contempt Elisabeth was feeling, leaving only the desire that was dammed up inside her since New Year’s Eve, in his office. His tongue asked for passage and, almost immediately, Elisabeth gave in, leaning her head against his left palm. Soon, her hands found his torso, pulling his body flush with hers as she felt her own body laying back against the hard surface of the conference table.

What had started as a curious exploration, as if they were both getting to know each other, became an intense exchange between the two of them, each of them holding onto each other as if they were the air each of them needed to breathe.

She’d never wanted to feel a person’s touch like she wanted to feel Toto’s.

She’s never wanted to taste someone as badly as she wanted to taste Toto.

And Elisabeth wanted more.

But then, then, in a fit of awareness, she realized what she was doing.

She was kissing Toto. He was on top of her.

Toto was the closest thing her father had to a friend.

“This is wrong”, her mind screamed.

Moaning against his mouth, Elisabeth managed to push him away, panting.

— No, no, no, no — she muttered, completely disoriented — We can’t do this, I can’t, no…

— Elisabeth — Toto spoke quietly. She completely ignored him, rising from the table Toto had placed her on without her even noticing, adrenaline and regret coursing through her veins. In her mind, millions of thoughts were going on at the same time, faster than a Formula 1 car.

“I need to get out of here”, Elisabeth told herself mentally.

She picked up her bag from the table and dashed towards the door. Then, she turned the knob, unable to get the door open.

— What the fuck — she snarled, tucking a strand of her light-brown hair behind her ear.

— Have you tried unlocking it? — Toto asked, trying to hold back his laughter.

“Damn it”, she thought. Her hands trembled as she released the lock, freeing her from the conference room. Then, she strode quickly down the hallway towards the elevator. Around her, the faces were just a blur, the words seemed far away. Everything was drowned out by the roar of her pulse in her ears.

— Are you okay, Elisabeth? — someone asked.

— Miss Lauda, we heard screaming — said another.

— Liesl, wait — a voice yelled.

However, she ignored them all. She smashed the button to take her down to the ground floor and breathed a sigh of relief when the elevator door opened immediately, allowing her to step inside. Then, Elisabeth heard the elevator doors close behind her and allowed herself to look up, staring at her own reflection in the mirror. Her hair was messy, her lips red and slightly swollen, the red scarf around her neck was lopsided.

“What did I just do?”, she asked herself, hearing the pleasant, disembodied voice of the elevator announce that she was on the ground floor. Adjusting the posture and taking a deep breath, Elisabeth slung her bag over her shoulder, and walked back through the lobby, leaving the building.

— Miss Lauda — she heard Alina call behind her. Stopping halfway, she turned her face over her shoulder.

— Yes?

— Did you find Mr. Wolff? — she asked.

She hesitated for a few seconds.

— Yes, I did.

#toto wolff #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #wlffog #natsversion #f1 x oc #formula 1 x oc #toto wolff x oc #scwlff

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