#but anyways back 'home' and i can watch the podium!!!

[skitskatdacat63]

Late commentary since my stream kept lagging but YESSSSSSSSSS NANDO P2 DAMN FUCKING RIGHTTTTTTTT LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOO ALL PODIUMS BABYYYYYYY

[frogstappen]

𝐳𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐯𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐧𝐥

best friend!max verstappen x reader / 3k

you watch max's home race from the red bull garage.

⚠️: description of major crash, some mentions of injury. sickly sweet friendship with a hint of something more. jealous!max, soft!max, cheeky!max.

“Headset?”

“Yep.”

“I got some snacks for you. Where are the –?”

The bag rustles as you lift it. “Pretzels. Got them.”

“And you know where the bathroom is? Out that door, down the corridor –”

“Max,” you push his arm down, “You know who we sound like right now?”

His eyebrows lift. “Who?”

You giggle. “You and GP. Radio, check. Headset, check. Bathroom, check.”

Max sighs, propping a hand on his hip. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just – listen to me, please, okay?”

“I’m going to be fine,” you assure him. “I’ve watched you from the garage a thousand times before.”

“Yeah, well, you haven’t been down here in a while. I’m just making sure.”

The track is already deafening. The roar of tens of thousands of bloodthirsty Formula One fans isn’t quite as earthshaking as that of twenty racecars – but Jesus, there’s not much in it.

The attendance in Zandvoort this weekend has reached well over three hundred thousand. Earlier, you stood out front to watch the drivers’ parade with some of the team.

Max lifted his head as the bus turned the last corner and trundled down the main straight. The crowd thundered all around. He caught your eye and, with a smirk, lifted a waggling hand – and you felt your bones vibrating with the cheering.

An orange sea parted by a strip of black asphalt; they twirl flags between thick clouds of tangerine smoke. They paint their faces and wave their banners, topple their drinks with the thrill that just a half-second glimpse at their Dutch Lion ignites.

Formula One fans go hard. Max Verstappen fans go harder.

An assistant taps Max’s shoulder. She flicks up the mic on her headset as he turns. “Three minutes to anthem.”

He nods, and she totters off.

“Promise me,” he takes hold of your elbows, “that you’ll stay right here. I’ll find you after, okay? One of the guys will bring you to the podium.”

“Confident,” you snort, though his expression tightens.

Your phone buzzes on the desk. You flip it over and the screen lights a name adorned with a heart emoji. Beneath, a picture of the classic overhead of the grid, stretched across a flatscreen TV.

Bet your view is better than mine! Miss you. X

Max grumbles, grabbing his balaclava. “I should go.”

“Hey, wait.” You tug on the sleeve of his suit, dangling from his waist.

He sways back into your side, the weight of him familiar and gentle. “Mhm?”

“Have a good one, okay? Be safe.”

“Safe?” He smirks, toying with the cord of your headset. “That’s no fun.”

“I’m serious, Max. Don’t be a dick.”

Okay, he mouths, patting your head. “Speaking of dicks,” he taps your phone, “Better reply.”

His head tilts back in laughter when you shove him off, and he swaggers out of the garage. An assistant hoists a parasol in the air and scurries down the pit lane at his side.

He’s so calm, you think, that he may as well be out for a Sunday drive. It comes naturally enough to him.

He’s on pole today. The car has been good, Max’s form even better. The sky is clear (save for the fans’ fluorescent flares), and there’s no chance of rain – though, sometimes, you find yourself praying for it.

He’s Dutch, okay? The rain is always on his side.

It’s been a decent weekend, for once. No hiccups, no setbacks. He’s soared his way around the track, producing lap after perfect lap. The way he always does, when he knows you’re somewhere nearby.

His lucky charm, since his first go around a karting track. So Max says, anyway.

He’ll say it with humor; that wit of his that you’ve learned like a second language. Still – sometimes, after his hardest races, his toughest battles, he wraps his arms around you tight enough to convince you that he might just be telling the truth.

Just for a moment.

You’ve been best friends for as long as you can remember. Never one without the other; always whispering into each other’s ears or otherwise communicating through flashes of eye contact, kicks under the table.

Wherever he goes, you go. You bicker like a married couple, and trust each other much the same. From the school playground to the Circuit de Monaco – and everywhere in between.

The orchestra swings to life, sending the sound of Wilhelmus skyward. Onscreen in the garage, the camera focuses in on Max: calm, composed, staring off down to the first corner like it’s his next meal.

Nothing has ever happened between you. Not really. No secret rendezvous nor dear diary crushes. Once, and only once, a chaste kiss during a high school game of spin the bottle.

It was about as awkward as it should’ve been. This quick, electric shock of a kiss. Over all too soon and not soon enough. He tasted like the lager he’d been drinking. He steadied himself with a hand on your thigh.

You sat back on your heels, wiped your lips with the sleeve of your sweater, and aped Max’s look of disgust. You snickered with your girlfriends as the circle moved on – but anytime you snuck a glance at him, he was already looking straight back.

He never brought it up again, though – and so neither did you. As far as either of you were concerned, it never happened. You’re just friends.

Best, best friends.

This new guy you’ve been seeing – you met him in a bar in London. He said he liked your dress, said he liked your smile, then offered to buy you a drink. It’s been no more than six weeks, but Max had already quietly decided his thoughts over summer break.

He’s a nice guy, he said, deliberately bumping his rubber ring into yours.

You pushed away from him, floating across the pool. Nice? That’s all you got?

What do you want me to say? I’m not the one dating him.

I just don’t believe that nice is all you have to say. You’re not that good at pretending. I know you too well, Verstappen.

Okay, fine. Too much styling of the hair.

Too much…What?

Yeah. And he wears weird shoes.

Well, he likes F1. Said he’s a fan of yours.

Ha, Max clicked his fingers, That’s the biggest red flag of them all.

Your phone buzzes again. You turn it facedown without looking, and pull your headset on.

The circuit shudders as the anthem comes to an end. The drivers split up, pulling off ice vests and zipping up their suits. The mechanics prop chairs in front of the screen, thumping their helmets over their heads.

Almost ten years in, the anxiety still hangs heavy in your stomach. The rumble of the engines, the babble from the loudspeakers. The rapid-fire orders shot over your head in the garage.

It comes naturally to Max, sure – that doesn’t mean it’s easy for you.

You watch him as he lowers into his car. Eyes narrow and focused, blurring everything but that first bend from his vision. All good humor shaken off, replaced by a vicious hunger to hit the end of the straight first, to be a speck on the horizon before the first lap is through.

Your thumb picks at the 33 sticker on the side of your headset. You burst open the bag of pretzels.

Max checks the radio and GP replies: “Loud and clear.”

“Beautiful day,” the driver says, weaving through the formation lap. “Simply lovely.”

You smile, suckling on the salty snack. As nervous as you may feel, at least he’s having fun.

He brings the car to a soft stop on his line and waits as the others follow suit. The lights flick on one by one, a painful pause between each. One sharp breath, held at the bottom of your throat, – and the red dissolves.

The Red Bull fires down the track.

Your lungs fill with a gulp of fuel-fumed air. Veins flood with warmth – the ice-cold grip around each nerve thawed as soon as Max begins to lead the flock.

He fights off contenders for first all the way to turn four – snuffing the flame of a Ferrari here, squeezing the papaya of a McLaren there. He catapults ahead just past Hunserug, and the garage springs to cheerful life.

In your headset, the pit wall is serious, fixed on the race. They murmur over wavelengths, static fizzling between words. Voices flat and emotionless; statistics on top of statistics, strategies on top of strategies.

You crush more pretzels between your molars, watching, unblinking. You twist the cord around your index finger, draining the tip of blood, then loosen again as Max puts more than a second between his car and the next.

He’s doing good. He always does good, as far as you’re concerned.

He’s doing what he always says he was made to do. He was raised this way, weathered into shape by each storm he powered his way through. Not born, not destined – Max doesn’t believe in any of that shit.

God doesn’t drive F1 cars, he’ll say. I do.

A couple tense laps pass. The Red Bull is still up front, though he’s tussling with the Ferrari now hot on his tail. Each chance his pursuer takes, each split-second jab at his lead, Max has already squashed before it materializes.

He rips around turn fourteen, following the track through its widest bend down to fifteen, and hits the main straight to thunderous applause. The cars scream past the pits, a roar sliced in two as they barrel straight for Tarzan.

The gap is barely two tenths. The mechanics clutch their helmets. Max taunts the corner on the outside of the track, eyeing his target.

“Defend,” one of the mechanics growls. “Hold him, Max.”

The Ferrari tucks behind, its front wing edging closer and closer.

You blink.

The red car swings out, shuddering with the force of the maneuver. He steadies himself and floors it, each closing centimeter perilous.

Blink again.

They’re side by side. Almost wheel to wheel. There’s no way Max can’t see that scarlet smirk from the corner of his eye. The apex is right there, though, it’s right fucking there.

Another blink, and –

He’s gone.

He’s gone. He’s –

Hurtling off the track. At almost two hundred miles per hour. The gravel spits at him as he spins; smoke and dust billow from beneath. He slams straight into the barrier, and, finally, the moment ends.

Your chest shrinks; a weak wheeze passes your lips. “Oh, my God.”

The mechanics leap to their feet. They bark amongst themselves like a pack of angry dogs, though you can’t make out a word.

Your hearing is shot. Every sound bleeds into the next; one long, high-pitched scream. You move without thinking, without feeling; slip off the stool and tug your headset. It hits the desk with a distant clatter, though you’re already wandering away.

The sound of the crowd rattles against your skull. Numb, muted. An awful groaning sound as the cloud lifts, revealing the chewed-up car.

It’s bad. It’s the worst one in a long time. He must’ve hit that barrier at near-enough full speed. The dread fills your lungs like torrents of heavy, black water. Sickly salt, suffocating sea. Oh, God.

You scan the garage for any of his mechanics. Matt. Ole. Chris. Fucking – any of them. Who did he say would bring you to him when this was over? He said he’d meet you at the podium. He said he’d find you –

A rough hand grabs your elbow.

Max’s face flickers across your vision. Blue steel gaze, freckle above his lip. The dust pulls him away from your grasp. He hits the barrier again and again and again.

“Max –”

The voice is calm – too fucking calm, you think, when it tells you, “He’s talking. They’ve got him talking.”

“Talking,” you echo, begging it to solidify in your brain. “Can you put me on to him?”

The engineer pulls you over to the exit. He plucks at his mic, murmurs some response down the line to the team. He takes your wrist and leads you out, muttering, “C’mon.”

“Hey,” you tug on his arm, “Please let me speak to him.”

“You will,” he replies, snaking through the tight corridor. “Once he’s out, they’ll check him over. He’ll be taken in for evaluation, hitting the wall at that speed. Force must be bloody nuts.”

The thought sends another bitter stream of panic through your blood. “Can he move? Is he –? Can he get out of the car?”

He gives one quick nod. “Medics are there. They’re helping him out.”

Sunlight floods overhead, dazzling as you follow him out front and towards a sleek car. An attendant opens the door for you, and you slide into the backseat.

The engineer gives your shoulder a friendly shake. “He’ll be fine,” he says. “He’s done worse.”

The door falls closed and the car moves off, purring through the paddock towards the medical center.

You slump into your seat and press your fingers into your eyes; a headache already blooming between your temples.

He’s moving. He’s moving and he’s responding. They’re helping him up out of the car. He’s probably already being checked over.

He’s probably already asking for you.

“Jesus Christ,” you groan, fingers dragging down your cheeks.

The center is a polite little hut inside the circuit. By the time you pull up, the race has already resumed. The remaining cars whizz by as you jog over, slipping inside behind a couple guys from Max’s team.

He’s had his fair share of scraps on the track. You don’t make it to the top without a sincere sense of dare, and an even sincerer lack of fear. Some call it idiocy. You’re often one of them.

Sitting on the other side of the clinic door, though – knee jerking, nails picking at the skin on your fingers – you’d be thrilled to never see these four walls ever again. Idiot or not, you care about him.

More than anyone else in your life? Jesus. Probably.

The door clicks open, and your blood jumps.

A pale woman in a pale coat steps out. She peers over her glasses, eyes you from the sneakers on your feet to the worry on your face – and says your name.

You push yourself up, squeezing past her into the room.

Max is perched on the edge of the bed, still in his fireproofs. Hair disheveled, face flushed and exhausted. Translucent with shock or concussion or worse, he lifts his head and flashes a lopsided smile.

It’s weak, barely there – but it’s him.

You care about him more than anyone else in your life. Definitely.

He opens his arms, fingers beckoning you in. “C’mere.”

“Oh, my God,” you sweep over, already in tears by the time you meet his body, “Oh, my God – you fucking idiot.”

His shoulders shudder with a bottled laugh. He wraps his arms around your waist, turning his head against your chest. “How was I supposed to know he was going to turn into me, huh? I had the line, I was –”

“Max,” you pull back, staring into his bleary eyes, “I don’t care. Just – don’t do that ever again.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he whispers, corners of his mouth twitching.

You sigh, collapsing onto the bed at his side. You lean against him and he winces a little, before pressing his lips to the crown of your head.

“You really scared me,” you admit, turning in to his chest.

Max slings an arm around your shoulders, holding you tight. “I’m fine, no? I mean, everything’s blurry and I can’t really hear much, but – it could have been worse.”

He props the pillows against the wall and pushes himself back gingerly, reaching past you for a paper cup of water at his bedside.

You move slowly, carefully, waiting for him to get comfortable before settling back, too – leaving a safe gap between his battered body and yours. Your cheek rests on the curve of his shoulder; fingers trace the logos on his sleeves.

Max breathes in the scent of your hair. He turns his hand and watches as your fingers trail down his wrist, circling his palm. He sucks in a deep breath, sighing to the ceiling.

“Your heart’s beating really fast,” you whisper, and he hums.

“Nerves,” he mutters.

“From the race?” You lift your head. “You don’t get nervous.”

He takes another breath and turns to you. He’s blushing, and doing a shitty job at hiding it. “No,” he says. “Not from the race.”

You gulp. “Are you sore?”

“Yeah. My back, my ribs.”

“Do you want me to get up?”

“No. Stay.”

He wears the same expression he did all those years ago, sat too many people apart from one another in that drunken circle. The same expression you only allowed yourself fleeting glances at: bashful, a little awkward – all the more endearing for it.

Maybe he actually doesn’t remember that night. Maybe he was just too tipsy – alcohol gone straight to his teenage head. And maybe he won’t even remember this, what with the concussion and all.

It’d make things a hell of a lot easier, that’s for sure. You could go back to your old ways: arguing over the best flavor of chips, screaming while playing video games. No second-guessing, no jumping to conclusions. Hell, maybe you hope he doesn’t remember any of it at all.

Somewhere, though, deep down – you know that’s not true.

“How’s, uh…whatshisface?” Max asks, nudging you with his elbow. He takes a feeble sip of his water and offers you the cup.

“Oh,” you shrug, “No idea. I left my phone in the garage.”

He scoffs, staring at your lips as you take a drink. He takes the cup from your hands once you’re done. “I don’t mean to give him shit, you know. If you like him, I like him.”

“Well, there’s liking someone,” you pout, “and then there’s willingly watching them crash full-speed in a racecar.”

Max smiles, lifting his cup.

“Whoever that is, sounds pretty cool to me.”

[giannaln4]

I Missed You

lando norris x fem reader

summary: You missed seeing Lando being happy after a race, and you couldn't wait to tell him how proud you were.  (1.4k words)

warnings: fluff, stablished relationship, a bit of mclaren slander

a/n: when i tell you i loved this idea SO SO much. i’m not too sure i’m happy with how this turned out but i really hope you guys enjoy it 🩷 i apologise for posting this just before the race but it was a bit hard to get started for some reason 😭 anyway pls let me know what you think!!

check out the original request here!

↺ back to navigation — send me a request!

The weekend in Monza was one you were hoping to forget. The tension in the air reflected not only in the team but also in the comments people were making about it, having even sports commentators and content creators question McLaren’s entire strategy to keep their fighting position in the WCC and also have a shot at the WDC. 

Lando’s demeanour immediately after getting off the car was something you would never forget, though, even if you tried. It was pretty obvious for everyone, even if he tried his hardest to never say something bad about his team and his teammate. That team was his home anyway. He had been with McLaren even before his F1 career started, and even after weekends like this one, he would never doubt he wanted to achieve great things with them.

That is probably what made it harder for him. This year they were competing not only for points and podiums but for something bigger, and after knowing what he is capable of, ending up in that position absolutely crushed him, and you hated to see him debating with himself. 

Once the weekend was finally over and you were leaving Italy, you wanted to make him feel better, telling him how great he was and how proud you were. You even shot some comments at McLaren for everything that went down, but he didn’t want to hear it; he barely wanted to talk about it, so you just dropped it. You understood him anyway, so you had to leave everything behind and just be supportive of your boyfriend.

You were hoping this weekend would be different, better, everyone was, and there was a lot of talking in the team that they would make the right decisions to keep fighting now that they had the chance. This, of course, would only mean something until they actually proved it during the race. 

Lando was in a better mood coming into this weekend; he trusted his team and he was confident they were backing him up. That was until the qualifying came. A yellow flag being pulled out by mistake during Q1 caused him to lose the opportunity to even put up a fight, and he ended up being P17. It wasn’t even his fault, but you knew he was beating himself up for that result. 

“Lando,” you called him right after he came back to the garage to watch the rest of the qualifying. He looked at you with a disappointed smile. “It’s not your fault, baby.”

“I know.” He pulled you into a hug, not wanting you to worry about him too much. “There’s nothing I could have done. We just have to wait and see what we can do tomorrow.”

“I’m sure you’ll do amazing,” you replied into his chest, rubbing small circles in his back to let him know you were there for him, no matter what. 

“We’ll see. The car felt okay, but it’s hard to overtake on this track. It’s quite a long straight.” He let out a nervous giggle as he pulled away; he didn’t sound as confident as you were hoping, but you knew he was right. “Some of it is just going to have to cross our fingers.”

There was no point in fighting him when he got like that, so you just nodded. “I’ll be crossing everything I have then.”

He went off with the rest of his team as you stayed back to watch the rest of the cars complete the qualifying. The air was starting to get tense again, and even though you knew everyone was nervous with Lando’s result, you weren’t sure if it was just your own feelings talking. But like Lando said, you were going to have to wait and see what the team could come up with, you were just hoping they would do the right thing.

Race day was finally here, and with Lewis starting from the pit lane due to a new power unit and Pierre being excluded due to fuel flow rate, Lando had been promoted to P15. Sure, it would have been better if Lando had the chance to fight for his starting position, but at least that was something. 

You could see he was still not completely confident in how the race would go, but you trusted enough for the both of you. 

Watching the race from the garage was something that always made you incredibly nervous, but especially in this position. But Lando managed to get to P12 by lap 2, and everyone was incredibly excited by his overtakes. 

As the race went on and he felt more confident with the car, he started to climb his way up to the top 10, trusting the team’s decisions with the strategy they were sticking to, and you were so glad everything was falling in place. 

The rest of the race still made you bite your nails at how nervous you were, but the bliss in the entire garage when he overtook someone was indescribable. He was driving the race of his life, and even the radios he exchanged with the team radiated that. As always, the last few laps were nervewracking, but the fact that he made it all the way to P6 and was even helping Oscar with his own race left everyone with a good taste. Not a complete terrible weekend after all. 

During the last lap, however, an unfortunate crash between Carlos and Checo pushed him to P4, meaning he gained 11 positions during the race; not that you ever doubted him, but seeing him end up there with the fastest lap after an absolute mess of the qualifying made you excited to see him. After confiming everyone was okay, you took the liberty to celebrate your boyfriend’s race.

Lando got out of the car and went to greet his team, cheers and smiles all over the place. Everyone was praising him for the incredible work he made, and his smile didn’t go away for a second the entire time. 

You knew you would still have to wait to congratulate him; he still had to do media before coming back to his room, where you were waiting for him, but seeing him so happy in the monitors made you grow impatient. 

It felt like it had been a while since you saw him so happy after a race.

After what felt like forever, you heard him come back to the garage. You stoop up from the small couch and opened the door, where you were greeded by your boyfriend. 

“Hey, you.” You said, closing the door behind him.

“Hi,” he replied, smile so big you could see his dimples.

“That was amazing, Lando. I knew you would do amazing, but I can’t even describe how proud I am.” 

He smiled even more at your words. He closed the distance between you when he took a few steps, wrapping you in his arms and kissing you deeply. You could even feel him smiling then, and that filled your heart.

“Thank you; it was a good day,” he said when he pulled away, looking down at you with loving eyes. “I think everything worked out.” You just nodded as you admired him.

“I missed you,” you whispered as you brushed a few curls that fell on his forehead.

“What do you mean? We’ve been together the last three weeks. You saw me just before the race." To say he was confused was an understatement, and you could see it in his face.

“I mean you, this. I missed seeing you so happy and smiley. Looks good on you.”

Lando was a bit embarrassed by your confession; he thought he did a better job at hiding how much the results affected him, at least to you. It was never his intention to be so down when he was with you, but man, was he endeared by your words. “I needed this,” was all he said, and you know he was right. And it wasn’t only him; you knew the team needed this as well.

“I know, and I know you hate to hear it, but I told you.”

He let out a laugh, not a nervous one this time. “Yes, you did,” he hugged you again, much tighter as he buried his face on the crook of your neck. “Thank you for being here and supporting me, even during my bad times.” He spoke with so much sincerity. 

“I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

[fastandcarlos]

Welcome Home : ̗̀➛ Oscar Piastri

summary: after success in hungary, oscar finally arrives back home to you, only to find you not quite as awake as you promised him that you would be

A small smile appeared on Oscar’s face as he walked through into your apartment, finding you curled up on the sofa. He couldn’t help but admire you from afar, noticing your phone resting on your stomach, the television playing absentmindedly in the back ground. 

As he got closer, Oscar’s smile shrunk slightly as he noticed the uncomfortable position that you were laying in. Your arm was hanging off the sofa, hand probably numb, he could see how hard you were working, even in your sleep, to stop yourself from rolling off the end of the sofa and onto the floor. As he knelt down beside you, Oscar faintly whispered your name, brushing his hand over the top of your head.  

It took a moment for you to respond to what was happening around you, unsure if you were just dreaming the sound of Oscar’s voice. However, you soon knew you weren’t dreaming as you stretched your uncomfortable body out and felt many of your muscles scream out in pain.  

“Sorry,” you whispered, running your hand over the front of your face as you noticed that Oscar was there beside you. “I meant to stay awake so that I could celebrate properly with you, it’s not quite the welcome home I imagined giving you.” 

Oscar’s head shook as you muttered another apology, left unsurprised that you had fallen asleep. He had messaged quite late on that he was getting a late flight out of Budapest to return home to you, and after his win, you promised that you’d be there to greet him when he walked back through the front door.  

“I knew there was no chance that you’d stay awake anyway.” 

“I know, but I promised you Osc.” 

Oscar offered you a sympathetic smile as you spoke, moving your hair out of your face for you once again. “It doesn’t matter to me that you weren’t awake when I got home, I’m just glad to be home again and be back with you,” he tried his best to assure you. 

“I can’t believe you’re a race winner,” you hummed, turning your body so that you were facing Oscar. “All those times we’ve talked about it happening one day, and now that moment has come true.” 

“It feels pretty cool,” Oscar proudly laughed, reaching behind him. Your eyes were glued on what his hand wrapped around, your smile turning up as you got your first glimpse of the trophy that you watched Oscar lift at the top of the podium hours before.  

“I’m so proud of you,” you sleepily told him, trying your best to find a bit of energy, but your body let you down. All you could do was reach out and cup the side of Oscar’s face, brushing the pad of your thumb gently against Oscar’s cheek. 

Despite your best attempts to convince Oscar that you were awake and ready to spend some time with him, he knew you much better. He could see the battle you were having with yourself to try and stay awake but after a long day of nerves and excitement from watching Oscar race, you were well and truly done for the day. 

As soon as you met Oscar’s eyes you knew exactly what he was trying to tell you too. Words weren’t needed between the two of you, you knew Oscar like the back of your hand and knew exactly what he was thinking too. “You want me to go to bed, don’t you?” 

“I know that you’re tired and that if you even try and tell me anything else that it’s a massive lie,” Oscar smugly told you, placing his hand over yours. “We can catch up properly tomorrow and I’ll tell you all about how amazing today has been.” 

Your head nodded in agreement with Oscar, “I want to hear absolutely everything about today, I feel like I’ve missed out on so much not being able to be there for the first race that you win.” 

You were meant to be there, you were meant to be there to cheer for Oscar in the paddock and give him that hug as soon as he climbed out of the car. And then work decided to call. You were stranded, left with no choice but to stay behind in Monaco and just hope that you didn’t miss out on too much. 

And it was just your luck that you ended up missing out on more than you ever could have imagined. You knew Oscar was in for a good week, but you never imagined that illusive first win would be the one that you’d miss.  

“Come on, I’ll treat you tonight,” Oscar smiled as he slowly stood himself up, placing his trophy on the coffee table in the centre of your living room before turning back to face you again. 

Soon enough, one of Oscar’s hands had slid underneath your back, the other was draped across your shoulders, scooping you up and off of the sofa as if it was the easiest job in the world, pulling you in tightly to his chest to keep you secure in his arms.  

“I got you,” he murmured as your head settled against his shoulder, allowing Oscar to carry you across the apartment, laying you down gently on your bed as soon as he was there, tucking the duvet over the top of your frame.  

You turned inwards once you were settled, watching as Oscar stripped himself down to join you. He had a wide smile on his face as you pulled the duvet back to invite him in, nuzzling against his side as Oscar was there with you.  

“Thank you love,” Oscar grinned as it was your turn to tuck him in, moving his arm to wrap around your body and keep you as close to him as he possibly could. “I’m so glad to be back home with you.” 

You hummed as Oscar spoke, allowing your eyes to close. “I’m still sorry that I wasn’t awake for you. Do you know how many hours I dreamt about leaping into your arms as soon as you crossed that finish line this afternoon?” 

“It would’ve been nice, but this is nice too,” Oscar sweetly argued, determined to not let you feel bad about falling asleep before he returned. “Just knowing that your proud of me is more than enough for me, there’s nothing else that I need love.” 

“I’m always proud of you,” you very quickly noted, “but I am quite looking forward to going into work and bragging about the fact that I’m actually dating a grand prix winner now, they’re all going to be so jealous.” 

Oscar couldn’t help but chuckle as he listened, “are you happy for me or happy for the new status you’re going to have in the office tomorrow morning?” 

“Of course you...but bragging rights is a nice bonus to have as well.” 

Oscar’s eyes rolled as he rested his head on top of yours, “you know my mum said the exact same thing about going back to Pilates now too. 

You couldn’t help but laugh too, “I saw some of her social media posts before I fell asleep, it’s so easy to see where you get your sense of humour from sometimes.” 

“Don’t tell her that, it’ll only make her even more embarrassing,” Oscar warned. 

You both were in fits of giggles as sleep loomed over you both. Oscar’s adrenaline had finally left him, and for you, sleep had greeted you a long time ago, trying your best to fight it with the last remains of energy that you had. 

It might’ve been the worst race that you could’ve possibly missed, but that didn’t matter to Oscar. These were the moments that he enjoyed the most, that post race cuddle when he could remind himself just how lucky he was to have you cheering him on. 

“Sleep now,” Oscar instructed as he felt your body relax in his hold, “the sun will be rising soon.” 

You hummed in acknowledgement, “I think I might be a little too excited now to have you home to fall asleep.” 

“I can always sing to you,” Oscar offered, feeling your hand hit down against his chest.  

You screwed your eyes as tightly shut as you could, “if there’s one thing that I don’t need to help me fall asleep, it’s definitely that.” 

“I thought you’d say that,” he whispered, “goodnight sweetheart, I love you.” 

“I love you too Osc, congratulations again.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[fangirl-dot-com]

Chapter 1 - Wishful Thinking

“AND THAT IS A CHAMPIONSHIP WIN FOR Y/N L/N! THIS MAKES IT THREE BACK TO BACK RACE WINS FOR THE DAMS’ RACER” 

The roar of the crowd is almost deafening. Well, it would be if you could actually hear it. 

“Good job, well done on another season. We couldn't be more proud,” your strategist Stella tells you over the radio. You can only sigh as you raise your hand to wave at the crowds. You don’t even know if they can see, but you try your best. 

You finally reply, “Good work team.” The switch to the radio is flipped back off, you don’t really want to hear anything else. You and your car finally arrive to Parc Ferme and stop right in front of the number 1 sign. It’s a familiar sight to behold. A second home if you will, since most of the season had been dominated by you. 

The steering wheel is turned off and undone and you gently place it down below. Reaching for the hallo, you pull yourself up with a grunt. Standing on the nose, you quickly turn around and raise your fists, earning you multiple cheers and screams. 

Instead of a usual jump, you quickly clamor down and walk to your team. You reach their open arms and are met with the multitudes of pats and hits to your helmet. Your eyes never settle on two specific people that you try to look for. Oh well, they didn’t have to come anyway. It wasn't like you were making history. However, Stella is right in the middle and you give her a giant hug. 

A second sigh is released, but a good one this time. It was more of a relief to be in the arms of one of your closest friends. 

A pat on the shoulder brings you out of your reverie. Turning around, you are met with the helmet of your teammate. 

“Arthur!” you yell and open your arms. It was a P1 – P2 finish for your team for the fourth time this year, the first where Arthur was on the top pedestal. This race not only decided your first championship, but his third second place since becoming your teammate. 

He quickly returned the hug and led you over to the weigh-in stations. After the number had been jotted down by an unknown official, you are finally allowed to take your helmet and balaclava off. Your baby hairs stick to your forehead, but you know your hair is going to get messed up by the champagne in just a few minutes.

“Think I will have a turn next year, non?” Arthur asks with a cheeky smirk, his accent emerging on the last few words. 

"Well, you will have all the chances,” you respond, setting your helmet down on podium. You both make your way to the cool down room and sit in your respective 1 and 2 chairs. 

“And welcome back to the y/n podcast,” Arthur jokes and you take a giant swig of your bottled water. 

“Ah Bearman is late today,” you say, “I guess he got tired of being number 2 guest.” You grin as Ollie walks in a few minutes later. 

“Already started without me?” he asks, watching your impressive overtake in turn 2, which in the end, helped you reach the finish line in a comfortable P1 finish. 

You just shrugged, “You were late.” 

Your eyes were glued to the screen. An impact between Ollie’s teammate Frederik Vesti and Theo Pourchaire had red flagged the race about halfway through. You possibly could have won by 30 seconds, if you had been able to continue and not have a second standing start. 

But oh well, you won anyway. 

A steward came to get you three a couple of moments later. 

She shook her head with a smile, “Why is it always you three?” 

The three of you looked at each other, shrugging. 

It just so happened that the only female, the one who was dominated the F2 world, her teammate, and his best friend almost always found themselves on the three podiums. Most of the time it was her, and others, her teammate, and then the rare sighting of the bear. 

But you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Well, that was a lie. 

But for now, you wouldn’t want it any other way. Just the three of you. 

Ollie went first, followed by Arthur. 

Then it was your turn to take the middle and highest podium. Taking the trophy from the man, you raised it above your head, fist clenched above. It was truly a sight to behold. Your head was held high as your national anthem blared through the sound speaker, and then the French anthem played for the team. 

Right when the anthem finished, the familiar tune of “Les Toreadors Carmen” began. You quickly picked up your bottle of champagne. Slightly shaking the bottle, you quickly pointed it towards the two boys, who had already started spraying theirs at you. 

Trying to get away, you accidently kicked your trophy off the top step. With wide eyes, you watched at the top popped off, leaving the base and the actual trophy apart. You quickly looked up and saw both the boys pointing and laughing. You stood in amazement and looked around as if to see if anyone had seen it. Who were you kidding though, of course people had seen it and cameras as well. Oops. At least it was your trophy. 

Your hair soon became sticky with the sparkling liquid, your race suit becoming a darker color as it was saturated. You wiped your eyes and you brought the over-sized bottle to your lips. Looking straight into the go-pro, you took a swig and crossed your eyes. 

The F2 page would definitely use that footage later. 

After the celebrations were over, you quickly made your way towards the journalists that were waiting outside of your garage. 

They all shouted your name, wanting to get a quote for whatever paper or website they were writing for. You quickly walked up and grabbed one of the microphones. 

A familiar blond woman spoke up first, “Wow, what an amazing accomplishment you’ve done today. How are you feeling?” 

There was the overused question. 

You took a deep breath before replying, “Ah it was a good run. Not everyone gets an opportunity to do this so I am very happy.” Your smile, however, never really reaches your eyes. 

A man with glasses speaks up next, “I know you must be ready for the break after this history breaking win. Do you have any plans for the upcoming winter vacation?” 

“Well, you know. Just be at home and enjoy it,” you paused before smirking, “And get some more hours in on the sim. Just doing what I normally do when I’m home.” You shrug after you finish. 

They reporters jot down things on their pads of paper. You think that you can finally go back to the comfort of your driver’s room when one more man speaks up. This time with a weird colored tie. 

“Regarding the recent hiring of Bianca Bustamante at McLaren for their Driver Development Program, how are you feeling knowing that a woman, not even in F2, now has a chance to drive an F1 car before you do?” 

Now that question gets you and you pause. 

What? 

You stutter out, “I’m sorry?” 

The man takes a deep breath. “Well I know that you recently projected that you’d be interested in an Formula 1 team as big as McLaren and hoped that you’d be able to get one foot in the door. I mean, you’ve been in F2 for three years now, and you aren’t even a reserve driver?” The man pressed his recorder closer to you. 

Suddenly, the outside felt like it was closing in. Taking a deep breath, you try to answer to the best of your ability. 

“Well, number one, I wasn’t aware that Bianca had been signed, but good for her. There always needs to be more openings for women in motor sports and I’m glad that she got in. Am I disappointed? Sure, but that’s life. My turn will come soon.” 

The man nodded and looked away. 

Seeing as no one spoke up after your statement, you said a quick thank you before handing the microphone to someone else. 

Finally you could retreat back to your room and finally change. 

The minute the door close, you leaned back against it and slid to the floor. Reaching for your phone, you quickly open the Instagram app. Orange upon orange is the first thing you see. 

Headlines of “BUSTAMANTE SIGNS WITH MCLAREN FOR DRIVER DEVELOPMENT” were all you could see. 

Tears pricked your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Of course they would go with her. Much more pretty, definitely meets the CEO’s look of younger drivers, would look gorgeous in papaya. 

All the things you believed yourself not to be. 

You knew it was a long stretch sending an email wanting to discuss future plans with the papaya team. They already had all the reserve drivers they needed, and apparently the development drivers too. 

It seemed like every door for every team was closed at the moment.

Hauling yourself off the floor, you peeled your racing suit off, leaving the champagne soaked material to hang at your hips. 

Walking over to the small desk in the corner, you grabbed your headphones. Connecting them to your phone, the familiar voice of Noah Kahan filled the void. 

You were there for a little more than an hour before someone came looking for you. Not surprised, you let Arthur into your own little paradise. Someplace where the reporters and cameras could not get to you. 

He sat down on your bed while you sat down on the floor. 

He inhaled sharply before speaking. 

“I saw the interview.” 

Your head bowed in defeat. “Yeah.” 

“You know, it’s not true what they’re saying. You deserve a seat and you know this.” 

You nodded. “Well, they don’t seem to think so. What is it going to take Thur? I've already exhausted my options. There's nothing here for me. I don’t think I’ll ever be promoted. I’m not…” you trailed off, not knowing what to say. 

Arthur quickly shakes his head before sliding down to join you on the floor. He places both hands on either side of you head and maneuvers you to look at him. 

“Listen to me,” he tells you, accent a little heavier, “you are one of the best drivers of our age. You cannot go bashing yourself when a reporter thinks it good to get a rouse out of you.” 

“Well, I’m no Max Verstappen…or your brother.” 

“And you don’t have to be. All you need to do is be Y/n L/n.” 

He smiled. You only nodded again, soaking in his words. 

After a small bit of silence, you spoke up in a wishful voice, “If you were to sign with any F1 team, which one would it be?” 

He thought for a moment, “I think the answer for me better be Ferrari, to be with my brother. But with their shit season so far, I don’t think I’d want to drive that tractor.” 

You wheezed and held him tight as the giggles shook your body. Arthur could help but join in. After you both calmed down, your breaths were only heard. 

“What about you?” he turns his head, wishful asking. 

“With my luck, I’d also have to drive a tractor,” you cracked a smile. 

“Then we’d be driving tractors together. But I’m serious, which one?” 

You hummed, before silencing. Thoughts scrambling to come up with an answer. Sure, you had dreams. Dreams of papaya, green, teal and black, white and navy, burgundy. But never red as Arthur wishes. 

You finally answer, “I’d take the Bull. Drive a little illegal rocket ship.” 

Arthur huffed. “Are we destined to be rivals Miss L/n? I don’t think the racing world could handle another Leclerc-Verstappen rivalry.” 

“Oh be quiet. I’m not on his level. And besides, if something were to happen, it would be nothing but an inchident…on the race.” 

Now it was Arthur’s turn to sputter and laugh. You decided to disconnect your headphones and let the music fill the small room. 

Placing your head on Arthur’s shoulder, you both let out sighs. 

Wishful thinking, that’s all it was.  

[makwebba]

better than a podium l LN4

summary: lando could've won his first race in silverstone but he ended up not finishing. pairing: lando x gf!reader warnings: mentions of lando crashing and swearing. note: my first formula 1 fan fiction! not my first time writing fan fictions but it has been a couple of years since i wrote something and lately my love for writing is slowly coming back. the pictures are from pinterest and idk who the owners are so if you guys know the owner or if you are the owner, please lemme know :( also no hate on checo but it just kinda make sense cause he's in a red bull idk. dont come for me. anyways, i hope you guys enjoy it!

- lando was leading the race in silverstone, his home race. you could've not been more prouder for your boyfriend, you were certain he was gonna win the race but not until checo hit the rear tyre of lando's car which cause him to spun out and hit the barrier. your heart sank, everything went numb and it felt like the world just stopped. it was a bad crash, you waited for his voice to come through the mclaren headset that's snugged onto your ear. "lando, are you okay, mate?" randy asked through the radio. you can hear him grunt and groan in agony, breaking your heart even further. you hated seeing him like this every time you come and watch him race. what felt like ages, the medical car finally showed up to retrieve him back to the garage. lando didn't even bother making any eye contact with anybody once he got to the garage, not even you. he just went straight back to his driver's room, hearing the door slam behind you. you sighed as you rubbed your face with your hands in frustration. you walked over to where he locked himself in, you didn't even have to see him to feel the tension that was building in the air as you knocked on the door. "lan...?" your voice muffled against the wooden barrier between you and lando. lando's eyes closed shut when he heard your voice behind the door, he always loved how soft spoken you were to him. he hasn't responded back to you as he stayed where he was sat before deciding opening the door for you. there he is. what he once was; a ray of sunlight beaming through the morning sun to becoming the loud rumbling sound of thunder at night. you furrowed your brows as you quickly but gently swift his hand up against yours while you closed the door behind you. "hey..." you whispered as you brought your hand up to his face, searching for his eyes. lando was not the type to cry but boy, he was just on the verge of losing it. you brought him into a tight embrace, your face nuzzled on the crook of his neck and his arms wrapping around your back. he held you tight as you started to hear him sniffle which ached your heart painfully. you had to fight your tears back because he hated seeing you be so empathetic for him whenever he had a bad race. "i was close... so fucking close..." he mumbled, his voice getting choked up. "i know, my love. i know." you slowly pulled away from him as he quickly wiped the tears building up in his eyes with the palm of his hand before it could stream down his face. you rubbed his arms for comfort as you stood before him, you finally managed to see his eyes. oh so beautiful but it was filled with so much anger and pain. "you did so well out there. and i know your fans wanted you to win as much as you do. we all did. but sometimes things just doesn't go our way..." you said, running your fingers through the side of his head, intertwining with his curls. "could never win a race, huh?" he muttered, moving your hand away from him. "i don't know why i got into this sport in the first place. not even good at it." it broke your heart to hear him talk so low about himself. you tilted your head slightly to the side as your brows furrowed when he moved your hand away from him, stopping you from running your fingers through his hair. you didn't let him get away from it when you placed both of your hands on his face, staring directly into his eyes. "you don't have to be a race winner to be a great driver. you are enough." lando looked back into your eyes which eased him a little. he took a deep breath in when his hand found a place down on your lower back, a soft smile appeared on his face which made you smile back at him.

it was that contagious. "in everyone's eyes you're a winner. to me you're a champion." a wave of warmth cruised all over lando's body when you said those words to him. it definitely hit a nerve in his system but in a good way. it didn't take long until lando pulled you in closer to him and placed his lips against yours, gentle and passionate. "i wouldn't know what i would've done if you weren't here..." he said. landonorris and ynusername

liked by mclaren, user1, user2 and 1,233,754 others landonorris shoulda woulda coulda, right? but i’ve got something better than a podium.

the end x

[landograndprix]

「Feel the magic ๛ l.n」

part i

✧.* you're going back home, your new teammate is all too excited and his fans aren't afraid to call him out.

✧.* another fic? yeah 😔 I don't know about you guys but I need a good dose of cutesy lando fluff in my life after all the angst I've written so far. reader is older so once again, if that's not your cup of tea, don't drink it 😉 anyway, taglist for this fic is open and I hope you enjoy it as much I I enjoy making it ☺

✧.* next part

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y/nusername posted to their story

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redbullracing

📍 circuit of spa francorchamp

liked by maxverstappen1, y/nusername and 78,652 others

redbullracing brining home another 1-2! 🥇🥈

#f1 #redbullracing #belgiumgp

view all 345 comments

leon187 amazing drive from both drivers!

julieeeexo robbed my girl from p1 like usual

luvy/n for real, she was way faster than max and yet they refused to let her pass..:/

norrizz you might want to treat your 2nd driver a bit better, you should be embarrassed

patrickm there's a reason woman should not be in f1 and y/n showed us why.

norrizz oh shut up you dumbwit, all women on the grid ended up in the top ten today, y/n even got on the podium just say you have a small dick

norry4 their dicks be bigger than the average male fan, ofcourse they're scared

benmorris would've loved to see y/n in p1, fingers crossed for the Dutch gp.

maxmaxmax sir they are in love 🥰

bott_ass they're both in a relationship..

maxmaxmax no offense but that never stopped y/n 💀

bott_ass girl you did not go there 😂

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mclaren

liked by y/nusername, landonorris and 110,672 others

mclaren Bringing the rebel, the birdie and our favorite girl back home 🧡

tagged: y/nusername

view all 563 comments

mclarensnorris back where she belongs 🧡

mclaren where it all started 👏

markklein what a disappointment..

hamilt44n y/n and lando are gonna bring mclaren back to the top, mark my words

norrizz did somebody check up on lando yet? Does he know yet?

clsixteen lando 'I have a crush on y/n' norris losing his mind right now 💀

landonorris sick bro, gotta watch my back from now on

y/nusername if you can get infront of me, yeah..

landonorris fair enough, you should watch your back then

landolando omfg I already love this duo 😭

sharl16 lmfao I never knew I needed this duo in my 😂

mcy/n the queen is coming home 🧡

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y/nusername

liked by landonorris, milouberger and 283,672 others

y/nusername girls girls girls ☀

tagged: milouberger, cecilemoulin

view all 726 comments

f1ladiess seeing the girls do things together outside of f1 is my favorite thing 🥰

charlos16 live laugh love grid sisters

julieeeexo God y'all so hot what the fuck?!

cecilemoulin we should've left milou at the bottom of the ocean but hey, who am I?

milouberger I wish you did.

y/nusername girls, no fighting without me..

cecilemoulin okay mom 🥰

zhou_ey just a little bit jealous..just a little 🤏

landonorris invite?

y/nusername no boys allowed

cecilemoulin put on a dress and you're welcome

norr4slando this is the grid that I adore 😭

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y/nusername posted to their story

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if you want to be removed from a taglist, let me know ☺

feel the magic taglist:

everything taglist: @thomaslefteyebrow @hopefulinlove @smoothopz @softboystarkey @buffysummrsx @honethatty12 @cixrosie @parkersmjs

lando taglist: @beatricemiruna @simp-for-fictional-people

[cheriladycl01]

My love, is mine all mine - Max Verstappen x Norris! Reader x Charles Leclerc Part 1

Plot: Norris' Twin sister is also a driver in the 2021 line up and is in her rookie era. Not only do the commentators struggle to now talk about the pair in the race, but they also struggle to talk about talent. What happens when two drivers find her eye-catching.

A/N: A lot of back story explaining the 2021 season so far!

"So when we talk about the Norris twins, obviously due to Y/N being female it has pushed her career back further than her brothers, where she is debuting into McLaren alongside her brother we will be able to see a real test of talent"

"Yes i think it will be really interesting to see them both in the same team competing against one another while still driving for that same team. They have very similar driving styles and I can imagine them helping one another out when it comes to pole positions and keeping both of them within the top ten for points" Jenso replies to Nico.

This was from an interview at the start of the 2021 season, just before your first race in Bahrain. When Zac Brown reached out to you, you were more than happy to take up the offer. Being able to not only race alongside your brother once again but by being his team mate as well had you so excited for the season.

Bahrain went really well, Lando being in his 3rd year of Formula 1 and within the same team now felt comfortable in his car, and it had the pace this year and he came P4, you had some difficulties where you weren't fully used to the difference in the F1 car, compared too your old F2 but still managed to wrangle 6 points for the team in P7.

Imola came after a larger break where you and Lando got to travel home for a few weeks before and check on everything in the MTC before travelling to Italy. Lando got a podium in P3 and like the interview had said, he kept enough of a time gap to help you defend of the two Ferrari's behind you. You came P4. To say that Charles wasn't happy with this, as you knocked him down a place was an understatement.

Portugal was the week after and you travelled straight there, sightseeing with your brother, Daniel, Carlos and Charles. You would often leave them in bars and clubs and find yourself in cafe's and museums. Portugal wasn't as good as a race as you could have hoped, but even with car issues you still managed to get points in P9, while your brother came P5.

After this race, where you went straight to Spain, you started to get home sick. Only having your brother by your side as your parents and other siblings couldn't come out for the last few races due to their own busy schedules. Spain was an incredible race for you making you feel better for the next week ahead. You came P4 managing to overtake Charles on the last lap, which again heavily annoyed him, and very nearly catching up to the Mercedes in P3 while you left your brother in the dust in P8.

There was another break after this race, you and Lando both went home you saw Max and his girlfriend who you'd missed dearly and your family, then Charles had invited you and Lando to come spend some time on his yacht in Monaco with his younger brother who you knew of from the F2 garage when he'd been invited to come watch.

You had been nervous for the race in Monaco, it was a difficult track and so far, you hadn't been in a position where you hadnt gained the team points. However Monaco was clearly not your race, from the mixture of your nerves and car issues you came P12, while you brother stood on the podium, in P3.

The next week in Azerbaijan went so much better, with Max, and both Mercedes not having pace, you'd managed some effortless overtakes and insanely quick pit stops. You'd had a second pit stop and was on fresher tires that your brother so you were behind him, you were flying and going much quicker than him but your engineer didn't want you to go for the overtake.

You did anyway against their advice, pushing until you were behind Charles Leclerc's Ferrari, you went for a cheap move that you knew was safe but would have him fuming in interviews afterwards until you were up alongside Pierre Gasly, you were P4 and he was P3, driving alongside him you couldn't tell who went over the checked flag until you heard from your radio engineer that this was your first podium win.

You cried... of course you did. But this was the start of a rocky patch for you and Lando, he was fuming at you the minute you got out of your car. You were asked not to go for the overtake but you did anyway. He was yelling in your face angrily, taking away the beaming smile.

Lando hadn't realized you'd got your first podium, he was just angry that you'd bumped him down a place. You looked upset on your podium, a sad smile as you raised you trophy, stood up there with Sergio and Sebastian. They'd both given you a hug trying to cheer you up having seen on the TV what happened with you and Lando.

"Well done on your win Y/N" a voice startled you as you turned to your side seeing Max Verstappen stood there congratulating you.

"Thank you. I'm sorry about the DNF, France will be better next weekend for you I'm sure" you smile, a light blush held on his face.

"I'm also sorry about how your brother reacted. I've been in this sport for 6 years now and as a word of advise sometimes you have to go against what your team ask of you, you gained more points for the team today than you would have if you did stay put behind your brother. So take it as not only as a win for you but a win for McLaren as well" he smiles before pulling you into a comforting hug. His words had really hit you, nobody had said that to you today, but then again Seb and Checo probably didn't here the opposing radios yet as they'd been on the podium with you.

"Thank you, i really needed to here that Max" you smile genuinely.

"Hey, that overtake was so risky!" a voice shouts over, and thundering footsteps stand behind you.

"Huh?" you'd asked looking over your shoulder, Max's gaze following yours.

"Charles, leave her alone!" Max says with pointed eyes at the Ferrari golden boy coming close to you.

"No, she needs to stop doing overtakes like that at the last minute. They are dangerous and have no thought behind them, you even put your own brother at risk today because she can't listen to her own team" he yells his exaggerated hand gestures going everywhere.

"Her overtakes today was phenomenal. She just got her first podium, her brother has already spoiled that don't make it worse by being a prick" Max says, but Charles is fuming and too far gone that the stuff coming out his mouth is there from pure anger.

"She shouldn't have even had that win today! It's not fair, she shouldn't even have that seat!" he exclaims, Max gasps and you look down.

"Charles!" he exclaims, but before you can hear anything else you are out the door running towards the McLaren motorhome. You packed up your stuff saying quick apologies to the engineers who would take anything you left behind. You didn't have a car here so you walked from the track to the hotel, a few people spotted you but thankfully didn't interrupt seeing the tears streaking down your face. They must have seen both Charles and Lando yelling at you today.

You booked a flight to London for that night, you had your bags packed and sent to the airport before you had Seb offer to drive you to the airport.

"Thank you Seb, I really appreciate it" you smile, looking down at your phone. It rung with Lando's icon popping up. You pressed decline and put your phone on do not disturb.

"It's okay. I saw the videos of Lando and Charles with you surfacing. I'm sorry" he admits, rubbing your shoulder, as you turned to look away from him so he couldn't see the tears coming down your face.

In no time you were at the airport, you'd thanked Seb who promised he'd see you in France and asked you to let him know when you were safe and home.

You sat in the airport alone, your covid mask on, but you knew people still recognized you as you went through security and waited for the plane where they would take pictures of you. Some even came up asking for pictures or signing their merch, but where it was so late there wasn't too many that it alarmed you or security.

When you landed in the UK, your dad was right there pulling you into a hug, cussing his son out saying how he should have been there to celebrate the win. You cried to him, telling him about how shit you felt after what Lando and Charles had said.

"Lets go home" he says rubbing your shoulders.

As you both walk into the house, you can overhear you mum and younger sister on the phone to someone.

"No mum, I just want to know if she's home safe" you hear your twin's voice across the phone.

"Look hunny, your dad's gone to the airport but I don't know if he's got her yet. She's upset though Lando" you hear your mum reply.

"I know, and I know its my fault, i didn't realize she got the team more points because she overtook Charles and Pierre. I didn't get to apologize because she left right after the race"

"Because you were?" his mother pushes and he groans.

"Mum"

"No Lando where were you"

"At the club"

"Yes you were at the club, celebrating while your sister was packing her bags in her hotel room crying her eyes out because she gets her first win in F1, and her brother cant even congratulate her and watch her podium with the rest of their team? She'll see you in France but for now she needs some time alone" you mother rants at him.

"Arghhh that boy Flo, can you believe him. When i next see him, i swear to god!" she exclaims and you and your dad finally make yourself known.

"Hey guys!" you try to smile, but it doesn't reach across your face like they are used to. Flo immediately runs up to you pulling you into a hug. You started to cry into her again, before Cisca, your mother and father all join in the hug.

"Come, we'll order your fave tonight as a treat okay?" your mum guides as she sits you down at the table.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover

[alotofpockets]

Birthday wish | Mary Earps x Reader

Summary: Where you surprise Mary for her birthday.

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.2k

-----

Your wife has been the England goalkeeper for quite some years now, but her being away on camp, and away for matches never got easier. With quality time and physical touch being your main love languages, it was hard being away from her. Mary always made sure to video call you once a day when she was away. It didn't matter if she was surrounded by her teammates or not, she would get the call in before you headed to bed. 

You had been missing her a lot today, so when you heard your phone ring in the other room, you rushed to it to answer. “Hi baby, I missed you so much!” Mary's face lights up at your words, “I missed you too, my love.” You hear a chuckle in the background, “She really did, y/n/n, she wouldn't shut up about you.” Mary rolled her eyes, “Shut up, Bright.” 

She focussed her attention back on you. “How was your day?” After Millie's comment it was hard to wipe the smile off of your face. “It was alright, I did some chores and errands today. Too little distraction to not miss you constantly though.” Mary knew you struggled with time apart from each other for longer periods of time. While she was always working when those periods happened, she put extra effort into texting you about her day, no matter how much teasing from her teammates it got her. “How was your day?” Mary told you about practice and their afternoon off. “Oh, and just checking, you haven't opened your birthday present yet, right?” Mary shook her head, “I have not. I promised you I wouldn't, my love.” Mary's birthday would be during camp, and though you had planned to celebrate together when she would be back home, you still wanted to gift her something for the day off.

After you hung up the phone you immediately texted Millie.

You: Hey Mills, can you help me with something?

A couple days later it was your wife's birthday, you had sent her a voice note wishing her a happy birthday, and texted her that you were heading into work. Millie was an hour behind, so you knew she wasn't awake yet. With one more picture of you sent her way, you headed to the car.

-----

y/nearps just posted

Liked by 1maryearps and others

y/nearps: Happy birthday to my wonderful wife. May you always be a kid at heart. I love you.

-----

Back at camp, while Mary was still asleep, Millie opened the hotel room for the rest of the team. When everyone had quietly moved into the room, Millie counted down from three on her hands. After one, everyone in the room loudly started singing, “Happy birthday to you.” Mary sat up in the bed instantly with widened eyes, in shock from the loud wake up call. “Happy birthday dear Mary, happy birthday to you!” She should've known her teammates were up to something, there had been whispers all around her yesterday.

A couple hours later, when training was done, the team met for lunch in the dining hall. The whole team, including staff this time, sang happy birthday to Mary. She got her present from the coaches, and blew out the candles on the cake. While everyone is enjoying a piece of cake, Millie speaks up. “We've got one more thing.” She walked up to the small podium where the projector was stationed, and connected her phone. A still of your face showed upon connection, and the team started whistling, making Mary roll her eyes jokingly. Millie pressed play, and moved to the side. “Hello my birthday girl, and everyone else who is watching along.” You waved to the camera. “I hope you will have an amazing birthday. You have a lot of great people surrounding you today, so I know it will be great. I wish I could be there to celebrate with you. Anyways, happy birthday baby, I love you. See you soon.” You ended the video with blowing a kiss.

When everyone settled down Beth turned to Mary, “It's disgusting how in love you two are.” Mary raises her eyebrows, “You're one to talk, Mead.” The rest of the group laugh at the both of you.

Mary grabs her phone to send you a text.

Mary: Just saw your video. Thank you so much my love ❤️

She didn't expect you to text back instantly, but she immediately felt giddy when she saw you were typing.

Y/n: Ofc baby, I wanted to make sure your day had some nice surprises :)

Y/n: Speaking of surprises, have you opened your present already?

Mary: Not yet, I wanted to open it on call with you.

Y/n: I have a moment now, if you're free?

Mary: Yes! Give me like 5 minutes? The team has been nosy, so I'm gonna head to the room quickly.

Y/n: Okay baby, take your time.

Mary quickly made her way to her room, her phone ready to call in her hand when she opened the door. She was about to press call when she noticed something from the corner of her eye. She looked up and could not believe her eyes. Under a bundle of balloons stood the person she had just wanted to call. So, instead of pressing call, she ran into your arms. “You're here? You are really in Italy with me?” You smiled and kissed her lips. “I am, until the end of the week. Happy birthday, baby.” After a few more kisses, Mary takes your hand and guides you to the side of the bed. “I am so glad you're here. I've missed you so much. I wished for you to be here when I blew out the candles earlier. I'm going to need to take these birthday wishes more seriously, if all it did was one wish to get you here.” You peck her lips, “You're very cute, but I think instead of the birthday candles you should thank Millie, she helped me set all of this up.”

You spend a moment together, just the two of you to catch up on some cuddles, and just conversation. Mary opened the gift you got her. It was a necklace that matched with her wedding ring, and had it engraved with the date of your wedding in it. Mary loved it a lot, she had been saying she wanted more necklaces, so this was both perfect and super special.

In the meantime Millie had shared the plans she had set up with you with the rest of the groups, so they understood why their goalkeeper was away for so long. When the two of you made your way over to the group, you hugged all of the girls. 

While the girls would be busy with training during your stay, you know you were going to have a great few days here. The team had the afternoon off, so with Mary and a few of the girls you explored some parts of Italy. It was safe to say that Mary had a great birthday, with you by her side.

-----

💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging! You can also supporting me by leaving a tip 💗

[cieloclercs]

what would you say (if i told you i love you)? — charles leclerc

PART: 5/? (read part 4 here)

summary. in which childhood best friends blur the lines between what they’ve always known, and something more

pairing. charles leclerc x artsy!reader

warnings. it’s GROVELLING time !! sad charles, sad reader, swearing, everyone still kind of hates charles (as they should) angst but not quite as angsty as the last part

face claim. tara michelle

author’s note. i hope this is enough suffering for you guys 😭 i’m weak tho so there’s a tinyyy bit of progress at the end 👀 i feel like this one’s a bit messy so i’m sorry about that?? it’s also kind of just setting up the next part but oh well 😭 anyways, LAST PART COMING UP NEXT ☹️ i’m gonna miss this series :’(

NOW PLAYING | Singapore 2023 post-FP1 interview: Charles Leclerc

COMMENTS 32k

username i’m still charles’ number 1 hater rn but he looked so sad at the end… ☹️

username girl no we need to be strong! don’t fall for the sad puppy dog eyes (i know he’s cute but srsly don’t) 🫠

username you’re right, you’re right 😔 haters until the end 🫡

username sir don’t try and blame your shitty mistakes on y/n 😭😭

username HE LOOKS SO SAD I CANT 🥲

username i really hope y/n sees this and realises he’s actually sorry

username no way that’s too easy. charles needs to apologise properly !!

username oh my GOD the way he started smiling when he said y/n is his ‘lucky charm’ AND THEN THE WAY IT DROPPED WHEN HE REMEMBERED THEY’RE NOT FRIENDS ANYMORE IM GONNA SCREAM 😭😭😭💔💔💔

username charles do you see what you’re doing to us charlesy/n stans?? PLEASE JUST TELL HER HOW YOU FEEL FFS 😫

username i swear if these two don’t pull their heads out of their asses soon I WILL COMMIT MURDER

username so real bestie 😔

username it’s such an invasion of privacy to ask about this though 😭

username fr the press don’t know when to keep out of it 😒

username i think he knows he’s in love with her now, he’s just not sure how to fix things ☹️

username i’m scared this feels like right person wrong time you know? 😃

username don’t say that 🫣 i’m just praying y/n forgives him. as soon as he apologises properly ofc, can’t make it too easy for him mwahahah

username i want to keep hating him but i’ve never seen him look that sad 🥲

username CHARLES YOU DONT GET TO ACT LIKE THE VICTIM WHEN YOU’RE THE ONE THAT’S CAUSED THIS

username so true. he needs to stop feeling sorry for himself and apologise 🙄

liked by yourfriend and 47,837 others

yourusername always on my mind ☁️💫

view all comments…

username SHE’S BACK IN MONACO GUYS EVERYBODY STAY CALM

username MOTHER HAS RETURNED !!!

username wait is that f1 she’s watching on her phone? 🤨

username omg it is 🤭

username SHE WATCHED THE RACE OMFG

username charles podium as well 😩😩

username it’s like he knew she was watching 🥹

username i hate how quickly everyone’s switching up on the charles situation just because of that interview but at the same time i can’t deal with my parents fighting anymore i need them to make up 😫

leclerc_pascale Bienvenue à la maison, ma fille ❤️ / welcome home, my girl

yourusername 🥰

arthur_leclerc YOU’RE BACK

yourusername did you forget? i literally saw you twenty minutes ago 😭

username the caption 🤔

username we can all agree she’s talking about charles, right?

yourfriend ma femme 🤩 / my wife

yourusername mon amour 😘

username she is everything.

username forget her art SHE IS THE ART RIGHT THERE

charles_leclerc belle / beautiful

username EXCUSE ME??

username SIR WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE PHAHAHA

username charles get tf out of here 😭

username i love how y/n’s just straight up ignoring him 😭

username CHARLES IS HERE GUYS HOW ARE WE FEELING

username i’m so conflicted rn

username like i want them to make up but at the same time he needs to SUFFER like he made y/n suffer

username fr, make him squirm a little 😌

username idk guys, if charles leclerc commented ‘belle’ on MY instagram, i’d be on my knees in an instant 🫣

username girl please 😭

username charles babe please go away you’re ruining the vibes x

username i swear to god if he’s here just to fuck with y/n’s head again i’ll fucking kill him

username he wouldn’t do that

username @charles_leclerc if you want to win her back this is NOT the way to do it

arthur_leclerc @charles_leclerc what did i tell you? 👀

username HAHAHA ARTHUR STOP

joris_trouche @charles_leclerc you should listen to our advice mate 😃

yourfriend @arthur_leclerc @joris_trouche shut up both of you 😒

joris_trouche yes ma’am 🫡

username they’re all ganging up on him 😭

liked by formula1updates and 9,736 others

f1gossip Charles Leclerc and Y/N Y/L/N spotted at the same night club in Monaco 👀

view all comments…

username OH MY GOD IS IT HAPPENING??

username there’s no way this is coincidence charles is boutta beg for forgiveness i’m calling it

username y/n’s actually smiling tho 😭 charles please don’t ruin it x

username we need y/f/n to scare him off before he can ruin her night 🤞

username AHAHAHA YES

username what i’d give to be in that club rn 😔

username fr y/n better be roasting him 😭

➜ part 6

taglist: @cxcewg @incoherenciass @formula1mount @allywthsr @meabhcavanagh @driveswiftly13 @zzblooda @gaslysainz @be-your-coffee-pot @siovhanroy

[nyoomfruits]

choscar anon again. okay so we choscar fans have definitely been reading the same fics bcs i love love looove no harsher than the bark. that fic is definitely a blueprint for choscar.

also do you think oscar would just be waiting in their!!! living room with a glass of water and charles's fav throw blanket to welcome charles home from all those late night events/parties with a side of extra warm cuddles? before he drags charles for a quick shower in which oscar washes his bf's hair and and and i need to shut up

no pressure but if you do write abt choscar, just know that i will be lurking on your ao3 account like the little starved gremlin that i am

IM SORRY I COULDNT HELP MYSELF I HAD TO WRITE IT

Oscar’s in the middle of his second mediocre action movie on Netflix, when the front door creaks open ever so quietly. He only hears because it’s directly followed by a loud thunk noise and someone softly cursing to themselves.

He smiles, shakes his head, pauses the movie and sits up a little straighter, right as Charles appears in the doorway of the living room. “You’re awake,” Charles says, face lighting up in that soft, quiet kind of way as he leans against the doorjamb.

His face is flushed, his hair tousled, the top buttons of his shirt are undone. It’s a pretty classic ‘Charles who just went clubbing’ look, though Oscar doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of it. There’s a certain glow about him, a mischievous sparkle in his eye, a confident, relaxed slant to his posture. He looks the same when he wins a race.

Sometimes he thinks back to the early days, when he still thought that tight curling feeling he felt in his stomach when he looked at Charles on the top step of the podium, of him soaking in the roar of the crowd, head tipped back and smile tugging at the corners of his mouth was jealousy. When he thought he simply wanted what Charles had.

And he does. Of course he does. He wants podiums and wins and a World Driver Championship. But he also wants just Charles. Wants him when he’s like this, all glow-y and happy, but also when it’s been a long day and he’s tired, head tipping onto Oscar’s shoulder on the car way back to the hotel. Wants him when he’s sad, when he looks like the weight of the world is on his shoulder, when Oscar can do nothing but hold him and kiss the top of his head and tell him everything will be okay.

Wants early mornings of moving around the kitchen, Charles chattering at him excitedly and accepting the monosyllable answers Oscar gives in return, wants afternoons spend out on the waters around Monaco, sprawled out on Charles’s ridiculous super yacht, the sun too warm for them to cuddle but Charles insisting on it anyway. Wants hang outs with friends, where Charles is always the center of the universe, pulling everyone into his orbit, and yet Oscar is the center of his.

Wants quiet nights like these, where Charles might’ve gone to a party Oscar hadn’t felt up to, where their lives might have been separate for a bit, but he still comes home to Oscar.

“Was watching a movie,” Oscar says, with a shrug, which they both know means he’s been staying up, waiting for Charles to come home. “How was the party?”

“Fun,” Charles says. “You would have hated it.” He pushes off the doorjamb then, makes his way over to Oscar on the couch, slots in next to him easily, fits like a puzzle piece.

Oscar pulls him close, kisses him soft and sweet. “Yeah?”

“For sure,” Charles says, pillowing his head on Oscar’s chest. “There were shots and people were dancing.”

“The horrors,” Oscar jokes. He doesn’t hate clubbing, perse. But he doesn’t love it the way Charles does. Never quite knows what to do with his hands, always feels a bit awkward and off center. Never quite manages to command a room the way Charles does.

“Missed you, though,” Charles says, looks up at him with those big doe eyes of his.

Oscar smiles, soft and quiet. “Missed you too,” he says. “Now, come on, let’s go shower. You reek.”

He gently pushes Charles off of him, who squawks indignantly but lets himself be pushed towards the bedroom, towards the ensuite bathroom. Charles grumbles the whole way there, but Oscar knows he doesn’t mind. Especially not when Oscar gets into the shower with him, soaps up his hair and carefully rinses it out, presses Charles against the back of the shower for lazy, unhurried kisses that don’t really lead anywhere, before getting out of the shower again and quietly drying off.

It isn’t until they’re back in bed together, Oscar on his back, Charles on his side with his arm slung over Oscar’s chest, his face pressed into the space where Oscar’s shoulder meets his neck, that Charles speaks again. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Dangerous,” Oscar deadpans. It earns him a smack on his bicep.

“I’ve been thinking,” Charles repeats. “You have been staying here a lot.”

Oscar tenses. They haven’t really talked about. Whatever they are. Everything happened just sort of… naturally. They grew together so slowly, so organically, they hadn’t ever had to talk about it, really.

But Charles is right. Oscar can’t remember the last time he went to his own Monaco apartment, would probably have to dig around his bag for a good while to even find the key. And even tonight, when Charles wasn’t even here, Oscar still spend it on his couch, watching movies on his TV, instead of. Well. Just going home.

Had he been overstaying his welcome?

“Yeah,” he says, and desperately tries to keep the slight croak out of his voice.

“Right, so I was wondering. I mean, you totally don’t have to, we can just keep going the way we have but, if you wanted to, you could, well. Move in?”

Oscar breathes out. Feels the tension seep out of his body again. It’s like a weight has lifted off his chest, a weight he never even realized was there. The realization they’re both on the same page here, that they both want the same things. “Yeah,” he says, turns his head so his nose brushes against Charles’s. “Yeah, okay.”

Charles beams. It takes over his whole face, though it’s hard to see in the dim light of the bedroom. Their bedroom. Oscar can’t help the grin that spreads over his own face.

“Okay,” Charles says, nods, and then presses his lips to Oscar, softly, gently, like a promise. Like this is just the beginning of so much more. Like this is the start of forever.

[eichornia]

So I had a thought:

- It's 2024. Daniel is back in the grid, his hand is completely healed, his curls are thriving. He feels confident again and he's happy. He's in a low dose of antidepressants and the therapy does wonders. 2022 seems really far away.

- He's starting the season in a good mood, flirting his way through the paddock, joking with the Netflix boys. It's Thursday and they're in Australia. Australia, baby, his favourite place in the world. His family is coming to see him race, Isaac being old enough to really enjoy being in the garage. He's curious and funny and Daniel misses him a lot when he's away. He loves Isabella too, she's his princess. But she's not really interested in the sport (yet) and she's in a hardcore Bluey phase. So Isaac asks him if he can go with him to the garage and when they're there, he asks if they can go visit the Red Bull garage because he's obsessed with the RB and to be honest, with Max too. Just like his uncle, Blake likes to say. Usually that makes Daniel to show his karate moves but not for long because Blake is a scary motherfucker sometimes even if he hides it well.

- So to the RB garage they go. They chat with Christian for a bit (Do you want to run for us when you're big, Isaac?, he asks) (And Isaac says yes, yes, yes) and they dodge Helmut when he appears in the garage because he's scary and not in a nice way. (Isaac says he smells like moths and Daniel has to fight really hard not to laugh) and then they spot Max. He's talking with GP but when he sees them, he waves smiling and he talks with Isaac like he's an adult (and even invites him to look into the car and explains to him everything, twice when Isaac asks again about some things).

- And yeah, Daniel has feelings. Like, he knows he had feelings for Max since... Well, a long time ago. He knows but he was scared of being bisexual (thanks Josh Allen for fixing that) and older than Max, and he was scared of being reciprocal because yeah, like Max was his teammate? His hot, younger, faster teammate.

- But now Daniel is (even) older and has learnt to not give a fuck about what people thinks. And yeah, watching Max with his niece? It's doing things to Daniel's heart.

- So yeah, Australia is awesome, racing in Australia is even better, getting points in Australia is a dream come true after these past years. He's high on endorphins and that's his excuse to intercept Max when he's on his way to his driver room after the podium. (Hey, hi, Maxy, Maximus, I was thinking, like, congrats in the podium, by the way, good trophy and all that, but I was thinking of asking you if you wanted to come to Perth?)

- The craziest thing to happen is that Max says yes. No doubts at all, just his big smile that makes his eyes go small and a 'yes, Daniel'.

- PERTH. It goes like this: Max comes to the farm, falls in love with Daniel's house, Daniel's falls in love a bit more with him. And Max knows nothing about it because Daniel is a bit immature but he's not stupid (not about this anyway) and Max is one of his best friends and he doesn't want to ruin their friendship.

- So he says nothing and he enjoys having this week with Max in his home. They race dirt bikes, they cook together (well, they try) and they play with Isaac and Isabella when they come to visit. And then it's Sunday, a whole week has passed and they're going to fly together soon to Japan. They're enjoying the hot tub after having a nice dinner and Max is laughing at Daniel's impression of Toto and Daniel feels like his chest is filled with helium, feels high, lucky, funny. And that's his excuse to kiss Max.

- Max doesn't stop laughing for a second even in the middle of the kiss and then he stops moving and breathing and Daniel is panicking a bit. Because he knew it would ruin everything, this thing he feels for Max. But then Max's hand is in his neck, drawing him against his lips again, magnets in the dark.

- So yeah, that's a thing they do now. Making out. Heavy petting. Every time it happens, Daniel wants to flail his arms, run in circles, scream like fucking Tarzan. It's like getting a podium over and over again, it's like champagne bubbles getting trapped in his chest. Max kisses him like he races (point-blank, non-stop, making him weak at the knees) and he likes to make Daniel straddle him and he likes to caress his thighs, draw his tattoos again, the three against his lips before kissing each of his fingers.

-It makes Daniel effervescent with happiness and when they're racing in Japan, he's fourth in the race, almost a podium and he comes back to the garage and hugs everyone and laughs and almost cries because he's coming back, baby, he's so coming back. And he goes back to the hotel and doesn't go to his room, he goes straight to Max's room and he doesn't stop to think because he's going to chicken out otherwise.

- And he's on his knees.

- He's on his knees for Max, and he puts his forehead against Max's tummy and kisses his belly button and blows a raspberry against his hip and Max pushes his head away, silly-laughing, and Daniel says let me, let me, please, I won't do it again, Maxy, but let me and Max touches one of his brows and touches his hair and then brings him against his body.

- And kissing Max is like getting a podium but blowing him is getting second place, getting drunk, getting sweaty, getting high-high-high.

------------------------------------------------------

You can read the continuation here.

[httpiastri]

PERFECTLY FINE – 2023 SEASON SOCIAL MEDIA RECAP

author's note: dropping this off for yall ahead of the weekend bcs i have important sports stuff these next two days and likely won't be on here at all (i won't even have time to watch the races 🙃). just a little cute thingy before the first chapter hehe! the twt pics are unevenly cropped so pls open them to read all 😚 also this is my first social media au so go easy on me <3

author's note #2: you may not notice this if i don't say it but i'll say it anyway… i actually edited out zak from like four pics so that i could post this 😭 lol

series masterlist

MELBOURNE, APRIL 2023

yourusername amazing weekend here down under!! so thankful for my fantastic team for all of the hard work, the car is a pleasure to drive. and shoutout to my lovely teammates, i love being annoyed and pushed around by you all ❤️

show all 86 comments

user icon!!!

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

frederikvestiofficial i would never annoy you 🥲

→ yourusername oh fred no, i didn't mean you 💔

→ olliebearman did you mean me?

→ yourusername nooo teddy bear, never 😢

→ dinobeganovic_ did you mean me??

→ yourusername take a guess 😐

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user not her calling ollie TEDDY BEAR ??? im out

→ user right in front of my salad 😪

→ user right in front of paul too

→ user chill 😭 she's allowed to have a nickname for her FRIEND

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

paularon_ ❤️🏆

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

dinobeganovic_ time for a haircut? paularon_

→ yourusername don't hate on the curls, they're cute 🐑

→ paularon_ i can defend myself

→ yourusername do it then?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user great drive today!! u really deserved that win 💙

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

saacha_fqt thank you for the champagne! 🥳

→ yourusername merci merci 🍾

???, MAY 2023

SPA-FRANCORCHAMPS, JULY 2023

paularon_ p3 in spa. thanks to the team for the good work

show all 98 comments

user good job paul!! still not sure why prema thought the slicks were a good idea but 🫶

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user why is he looking so upset 😭 mate you just got a podium, celebrate a little

→ user rumor has it he and y/n broke up… so i would understand if he isn't too happy

→ user omg you're kidding

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user that first lap was mega 🔥

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

mercedesamgf1 great job all weekend paul. good points to head into the break with. 👏

yourusername had a pretty good time in spa 🤭

show all 72 comments

user sprint race win and then 4th in the feature? queen behavior

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

jakcrawford_ dino and ollie looking great

→ dinobeganovic_ 😎😎

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

redbulljuniorteam amazing work!! 💪

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user y/n rlly is red bull personified omg, she truly loves her team

→ user and they love her back 🥺 always commenting on her posts, aww

ZANDVOORT, AUGUST 2023

yourusername look how happy jackie is for his podium <3 thanks zandvoort!!

show all 61 comments

user i love to see ollie being bullied on his bike

→ yourusername me too

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

olliebearman adorable jakcrawford_

→ jakcrawford_ 👍😀

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user love to see y/n happy even after what happened with paul 💓

→ user yes yes! she was hanging out in the prema paddock all weekend, joking around with ollie and fred. and then she even went out for dinner with jak and clem 🥺

→ user i didn't know she's friends with clem?

→ user she probably isn't lol but she follows jak anywhere like a puppy 😭

MONZA, SEPTEMBER 2023

yourusername the best season ever 😭 where do i even start? massive massive thanks to the entire team. all of the engineers, mechanics, workers back home at the factory, and everyone else involved, i'm so thankful for you all. and big thanks to my family and friends for supporting me all the way, i couldn't have done any of this without you all. and to my dear, lovely teammates: you're the best, i'll see you all again soon. ❤️ (and congrats gabrielbortoleto_ for the championship! 🏆)

show all 132 comments

user why does it sound like she won't stay with prema 😭

→ user tbh it seems unlikely since kimi will probably move up to f2... and ollie will stay with prema too, so idk where she would go

→ user please :( let me stay delusional

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gabrielbortoleto_ congrats on p2! see you again next year

→ yourusername 😉🤩

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user congrats on a great season!! can't wait to keep following you in the future <33

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redbulljuniorteam you made us proud this season 🫡 let's keep pushing!

→ yourusername thank you!! can't wait to see where 2024 takes us 💙❤️

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user had so much fun meeting you in zandvoort 🥺 hope you have another amazing season 2024!

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user is that her and paul in the fourth pic?

→ user no, it's her and dino from when they both ended up on the podium in hungary!

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user she went from posting several pics of paul in her dumps to posting none… 💔

→ user i can't handle being a divorce child 😭

CAMBRIDGE, DECEMBER 2023

yourusername happy holidays 🤍🤶❄️🎄

show all 295 comments

user is that OLLIE in the last slide??

→ user byeeee i've never felt more single

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dinobeganovic_ send me the gingerbread cookies, won't you?

→ yourusername oh we will, don't worry 🥰

→ user WE will ?!??!! 😭

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user kinda icky how she moved on from paul in like a week

→ user it's been months. get over yourself.

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user bearman with a bear plushie 🥺 i'm so soft

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user the matching pjs.... when is it my turn???

???, FEBRUARY 2024

[blorbocedes]

resharing riddle of rosberg by Will Buxton, because OP who originally posted it deactivated, and it's a very interesting read. since WB recently talked about how he didn't like Nico until they had a breakthrough moment and he realised that's his German sense of humour, this contextualises how people perceived Nico. Buxton wrote on Nico back in 2014, which covers his early GP2 career, the 2014 F1 season and provides a fascinating insight into Nico’s character. Highlights below:

I can’t recall the first time I met Nico Rosberg. All I remember is that I despised him, everything he was and all he represented: the cock-sure, entitled, bolshy son of a world champion. No grace, no humility. Wafting in, a blur of blonde hair and arrogance. A Formula BMW champion yes, but only a few F3 wins and just three years in single seaters gave what I held to be little foundation for such seeming conceit. I disliked him intensely. It got to the point where I held such disdain for him that I would actively seek for our paths to not cross… which was fairly hard given I was PRing the championship in which he was racing. I’d simply ask someone else to grab his quotes for me. They always seemed to be able to pull more out of him anyway.

Nico Rosberg had been quick from the outset, and watching his racecraft develop as the season went on became a growing point of emotional turmoil for me. He was so impressive; seemingly effortlessly rapid and blessed with a precision that was metronomic. But I just couldn’t like him. I wished he’d been a good guy, one I could get excited about. But instead I felt huge sadness that such a wonderful talent had been given to a guy who was apparently such a Class A prat.

I recall the low point only too well. He was breezing past on his way to dinner. His team-mate Alexandre Premat had topped qualifying, and I’d used the staggeringly unoriginal press release headline of “Premat Powers to Pole.”

“Why don’t I ever “power” to anything?” he pointedly sneered as he walked past.

I looked up, trying to figure out what he was talking about. Then it hit, and I wondered why he was being so petty. The headline was simple alliteration. I had probably or would probably use “Rosberg Reigns” at some point of the season on the back of one of his wins. It was just Nico being typical Nico.

“Dick!” I whispered under my breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

Later that night, I needed to talk to his then-PR guy Karsten Streng and hopped into the ART truck to find him.

“Karsten, can we have a chat?”

Out from behind his race overalls jumped Nico.

“Oh, so you don’t want to speak to me then? Huh? What’s that all about? You’d rather speak to Karsten than to me?”

I turned on my heels and walked out.

Karsten ran after me.

“Will, man, you can’t let that get to you. You know he’s only joking, right? Just fire it straight back at him. He’ll love it. He’s really a fun guy… honestly. But if you don’t give it back to him he’ll think he’s got the high ground. He loves a challenge.”

The next day Nico sent some pithy comment my way, so I turned around, flipped him the bird and winked. “Fuck you Rosberg.”

He looked taken aback. I broke out in a cold sweat. This was not behavior becoming of the championship’s press officer. Had I just managed to ruin any relationship I might have had with the man destined to be our first champion?

A smile broke across his face, and we never had a cross word again. Indeed, we started to get on really well. At the end of the season I received a package to my home, from Monaco. In it was an ART team shirt, signed by Nico, thanking me for my support. I had it framed, and it remains one of my most treasured pieces of memorabilia from my career in racing.

Nico was the most savvy driver I ever worked with. Stepping down from the podium after winning the GP2 title, he spoke to the awaiting press in turn, each in their own language. I’d only ever seen him in individual language press briefings, and to see him utilise such cool and calm intelligence so soon after the elation of what was at the time the most meaningful moment of his career left me astounded.

But therein lies the deepest issue with Nico Rosberg. He isn’t just smart. He’s the sort of smart that makes the rest of us question if we’re quite as clever as we thought we were. And at times it can be his undoing.

I’d seen his intelligence and need for the high ground cause him trouble time and time again in interviews, even in the GP2 days. The interviewer would sit down, all smiles, ready to start the conversation. But Nico, fearful of being on the back foot, would fire retorts and wrestle control of the interview back into his own hands. He would put the interviewer at ill ease in order to make himself feel more comfortable with the situation. What resulted was a terrible interview, and the prevailing opinion of Rosberg being precisely the one I’d drawn when first we met: that he was cocky and arrogant. When I came back to journalism in 2008 I had booked a sit down with him at Williams and for the first 2 minutes of the interview, that’s exactly how he was: back against the wall, stand-offish, arrogant, unlikable. I switched off the Dictaphone and asked him if he was going to carry on being a prick or if we could do this properly. He looked sheepish, apologised, and we picked back up with what ended up being a great interview.

All of which led to a question often asked: is Nico Rosberg too smart for his own good?

It’s a question that has come back again this year.

Many will point to Monaco as a stand-out point of the season. I always felt Rosberg was smart enough to pull off that stunt in qualifying, but I never believed he was that cynical or cold. To be a world champion takes more than intelligence and speed. As I argued over Multi-21 last year, while we may hate to admit it, what marks the champions out from the also-rans is the ability to be a complete bastard when the moment arrives. In Monaco, Nico was the bastard and turned that qualifying controversy into a race win that had the ability to completely shift the tide of the season.

That it didn’t, however, is his own doing.

Lewis Hamilton is widely regarded as one of the best qualifiers in modern Formula 1. And yet, with a dominantly fast car at his disposal, he has lost the Pole Trophy to Nico Rosberg, the German amassing 10 poles to Hamilton’s seven. That metronomic precision has played into the Rosberg’s hands on many occasions this season, and more often than not it has given him the upper hand going into the race. On Saturdays at least, Rosberg has proved beyond doubt that he has the pace. But he hasn’t turned that Saturday pace on regularly enough in Sunday’s race.

Mentally, what happened in Budapest was also a tremendous shock. Hungary should never have affected him as much as it did. Perhaps it all comes down to how much brain capacity we consider Nico Rosberg as having, but that August break should have been used to move on from what he perceived as injustice, and start the second half of the season fresh and with total clarity of mind. Rosberg used all of that mindfulness, however, to focus on the negatives and came back to Spa with it still playing on his mind.

That incident on lap 2 of the 2014 Belgian Grand Prix has been poured over to frankly ridiculous degrees. To me, it was a nothing moment. Rosberg could have backed out, Hamilton could have given more room. That both went into it so pathetically ultimately resulted in the damage it did. If Rosberg had truly wanted to teach Hamilton a lesson then he should have gone in hard. That he didn’t is the only reason that Hamilton’s tyre was sliced. Any intent, and Rosberg would have snapped his front wing, bouncing it off the side of the Briton’s tyre. Hamilton would have stormed off into the distance while Rosberg was forced to switch his wing.

I argued at the time that Rosberg needed to embrace one side or the other. He needed to be a hero or a villain, because if he was neither, he risked becoming nothing. And so it emerged after the race that he had told Hamiton he had allowed the impact to happen. A step towards becoming that villain? Perhaps, but it wasn’t enough. And that’s the big sadness of his season. He has been so fast and so consistent, but his inability to pick a side and his attempts at being all things to all people has led to him being left wide open to attack from all sides.

The way he interacts with broadcast crews is an incredible illustration of this. In Monza, in speaking with me on American television he spoke in confident and unashamed tones despite his apparent dressing down by the team over Spa. With the Germans he was the same… almost bullish. And then to the British TV and radio crews, his shoulders slumped forward, his head bowed down, his tone was full of contrition and regret. What he was saying was no different to what he had told the German or international crews, but the way it was said was at total odds with how he had been just 10 seconds before.

Just as in Bahrain at that GP2 finale 10 years ago, I stood in awe. So savvy, so intelligent to his audience… but perhaps, in this instance, a reflection of him trying to be just that little bit too smart.

The thing is, he can be so charming too. He has a dry and sarcastic wit, which can sometimes be played out with a deft finesse. In America and Brazil, he started to have a very subtle jab at his championship rival by adopting Lewis Hamilton’s apparent mot du jour. In almost every interview, Rosberg would drop in a little comment about how “blessed” he felt. Shrewd. Subtle. At times, however, he can be a total child. In Hungary this year I was running from my commentary position to the GP3 podium to conduct the post race interviews. Time is tight at the best of times, but when I arrived at the swipe gates I felt an arm around my waist pulling me back. At first I thought it was an over-zealous security guard. But no. It was Nico, giggling away with a huge grin plastered across his face.

Should he be crowned 2014 Formula 1 world champion, be it through double points or, let’s hope, a barn-storming wheel-to-wheel thriller, some will still argue that Nico Rosberg does not deserve to be world champion. With them, however, I would disagree. Lest we forget, this is the only man who, over the course of a full Formula 1 season, finished ahead of Michael Schumacher as a team-mate. As if to reinforce the point, Rosberg achieved this giant toppling feat not once, but thrice.

His out-and-out pace in qualifying this year has been insurmountable. That he has won the inaugural Pole Trophy is evidence of that. So we know he has the pace, we know he has the temperament to win races, and we know that on occasion he can embrace his inner bastard and drive with the ruthlessness that sets world champions apart.

Nico Rosberg has shown repeatedly in 2014 that he possesses the attributes shared by the best of the best. We should not deny him his glory should he be confirmed as such on Sunday.

[girlsdads]

just doesn’t make sense when you consider that daniel likes his cars the same as max, setting the car up for checo will just make max more frustrated with the team!! Maybe he can drag the rb20 to a wdc with checo’s setup but he definitely won’t be happy about it

And putting danny in the car, even if he isn’t getting podiums every race he’s at least a much safer pair of hands!!

I get that sponsors are powerful, I can’t imagine that Disney will roll over and let their one sponsored driver be dropped when he has a special coming out soon and 3 home races still to go, but this will just tarnish any reputation that redbull has managed to build over the last decades, and sour their relationship with the biggest success story to come out of their team

i completely agree it makes NO sense… atp a 10 year old could manage this team better 🤡 but at the same time, i’m actually kind of glad they’re going this route if only because that puts wayyyy less pressure on Daniel. i fully believe he could cook with that rb20, but at the end of the day it’s looking like the mclarens and mercs are just better this year, so there’s no guarantee that rbr could still win the wcc even if they did a driver swap. and you know Daniel would get blamed for it if that was the case, which would almost certainly do much more damage to his career trajectory than if he stays at vcarb and continues to extract max performance from a car that no one is expecting to be winning any championships anyway. i’ll just sit back and watch Checo help RBR run itself into the ground thank you very much 😊

[kazumist]

EPISODE 7 ★ FUZZY FEELING

FAKE IT TILL WE MAKE IT — A SCARAMOUCHE SMAU

masterpost / prev ep / next ep / timestamps don't matter

scaramouche must have been crazy.

seriously? a date? it was the last thing you expected! however, if you were going to pretend to be a couple, going on dates is actually a given. and like you said in your message to him:

we both have to suck it up.

even if that means having your first date with the guy you hate.

luckily enough, the awkward ride to the aquarium ended faster than you expected. but now that you’re here, how does one enjoy an aquarium date anyway? or what does one even talk about on their first date in general?

these were the questions running through both of your heads as you mindlessly wandered around.

“hey,” scaramouche starts.

“hmm?”

“this fish looks a lot like childe for some reason.”

when you turned to look at what he was looking at, you seriously had to hold back a loud laugh. because why does the fish actually look like childe? “that’s a clownfish, right?” you ask him.

“you know about these things?”

“not really; i just watched finding nemo back then as a kid.”

“oh wait, here’s the description. yeah, it’s a clownfish, and it seems like even their description fits childe even more,” scaramouche says, pointing his head at a podium nearby with his hands inside his pockets.

“clownfish are active and territorial fish with an erratic swimming pattern who sometimes appear to be doing acrobatics while defending the area around their anemone," you read aloud. “see? it fits him perfectly.”

“are you saying childe seems to do acrobatics sometimes?”

“no, i’m saying that he’s way too hyper for his own good.”

“isn’t that supposed to be venti, though?”

“they’re practically the same kind; does it really matter who is who?”

you laugh at his response. 

maybe this isn’t so bad. just maybe.

with the sun almost setting, your little trip to the aquarium ends, and you both decide to stop by a cafe on the way home.

but unfortunately, the awkward tension comes back.

what now? are you supposed to say, “hey, i had fun today,” and just move along? are you supposed to ask, “so how did the date go for you? did you have fun like i did?” you couldn’t find the right words to say, but you couldn’t stand this awkward atmosphere either.

“i… kinda had fun today.”

can this guy read minds or something?

"likewise."

time flew by faster than you expected, and now you were walking out of the cafe with scaramouche. “thanks for today, even though i was kinda against it at first,” you said.

“i hope you realize that we have to do this often if we really want to be convincing.”

“yeah, yeah, i get it. give me a break. who would’ve thought that i would be going on a date with you, of all people?”

“why do you sound so icked by the thought of going out with me?” he rolled his eyes.

“because i am icked by it, smart ass.”

“says the one who equally enjoyed the day like i did?”

“sorry, my pride is too high to make me admit that i actually enjoyed your company.”

he shakes his head at your response. how very… likely of you to say such a thing.

“i guess this is goodbye, then?” scaramouche asks.

“yeah. why? do you not want the day to end?”

“don’t put words into my mouth.”

“you didn’t really deny it, you know.”

“why are you like this?” 

“why shouldn’t i be like this?”

from your peripheral vision, you could see a familiar sight of blue-ish white hair as well as a blonde walking nearby. since they didn’t really know that this wasn’t real, you acted out of impulse. but what did you do exactly?

you kissed scaramouche on the cheek and waved him goodbye, just like that.

extra notes.

i didn't expect this chapter to be so long uhm idk im 50/50 on the narrations bc deadass it was hard 2 write for me ... OTL

theyre kinda getting close! emphasize on kinda though

more silly little romance in the next chapter haha pls stay tuned

synopsis.

what happens when scaramouche, your rival since the first year of highschool, had some annoying admirers on his back? easy—he (fake) dates you to shoo them off. nothing can possibly go wrong with faking a relationship with the guy you hate, right?

spoiler: apparently, a lot can go wrong.

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