#does the grid look straight to you?

[s-lycopersicum]

Well, you've probably seen something like this before, maybe with a different color scheme.

The static version is already really good, but the movement really exacerbates the waviness of it all (maybe even too much, let me know if I should tag this with some warning).

[daddyricsdoll]

Vanilla? ✭ Oscar Piastri

Summary: It's always the quiet ones that are the freakiest. But that wasn't what every other driver on the grid thought as they teased Oscar and you for being too innocent to know anything beyond vanilla sex. So when you guys didn't put up a fight, they figured they were right... until someone was lucky enough to see you and Oscar on the other end of the spectrum of "plain sex".

Warnings: not vanilla sex! fingering, oral (male receiving), bondage (hands tied together), spreader bar (if that even what it’s called), unprotected sex, rough because how else would you have it? Gagging and deep-throating Oscar’s huge dick 😩

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Oscar is the man who makes me wanna wake up in the morning and I love it!! I'm so obsessed with him it's making me go insane, but if I'm going insane it's fine because I'm going insane over him. Everything about him is beautiful and I wanna call him pretty and gorgeous and watch as he blushes. Then ride him and take control of him until he wants to teach me lesson and makes me pass out. (I’m just a girl) Based off of this request.

“Oscar, how would you say relationships outside of F1 have helped you grow in this sport as a driver and as a person. If they had an impact, and if not then why?” Oscar’s PR manager testing questions on him, posing as one of the many journalists trying to break Oscar’s wall that he’s been perfect at keeping up so far. He finds it amusing that they have so much interest in his life, only encouraging him to keep his words to a minimum. Well as long as you don’t come up– his cheeks immediately flush and he starts every sentence with “my girlfriend” before he looks at others and silently begs them to say something to shut him up.

“Well, everyone’s been supportive of my career. Which only makes me want to do my best, and better than that.” Keeping a straight face as he answers until he looks at you beside him then Lando with a proud grin on his face.

“Who’s everyone…? Your girlfriend?” Lando’s voice teases, like every schoolgirl talking about their friend's crush.

“I- yeah. She does a lot for me, helps me let off steam before and after races, she also-”

“Let off steam, huh? Is my Oscar making his girlfriend cum to let off steam?” Lando’s mouth wide open, making an ‘o’ shape. Both you and Oscar have mixed emotions– heat coursing through you remembering just this morning, but also shock from Lando’s unhinged question.

“You’d be surprised?” Oscar’s answer broad, but you knew. Letting Lando believe that Oscar lets you cum, when his favourite thing is edging you until tears roll down your face.

“Oscar, you probably just learnt what a clit is.” Lando having nothing better to do than tease him as his pale cheeks turn pink. 

“Believe whatever makes you happy.” Oscar shutting down the conversation before he reveals too much, a little smile on his lips as he chuckles and moves his hand further up your thigh.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

It wasn’t just Lando who would have a say about you and Oscar’s sexual life, but any driver who happened to walk into the conversation at the perfect time.

“Oh yeah, Oscar you’re vanilla.” His fellow Australian, Daniel Ricciardo, says. Joining them on their walk to wherever they all had to be next. 

“Well actually I think Oscar is a little more than vanilla. He’s vanilla but not vanilla.” Logan pops in too.

“No. Oscar is sooo vanilla. Like he’s too scared to choke his girlfriend because she’ll die and he’s never marked her so she knows she’s his.” Lando expresses his words with so much passion it makes Oscar roll his eyes but know exactly what Lando’s doing when their hotel rooms are beside each other and he’s invited a girl over. 

“Wow. Calm down Lando, I think we learnt a little bit more from you than Oscar. You definitely need a girlfriend.” Daniel spoke the words everyone was thinking. Letting Oscar finally breathe and have all the attention over to Lando and his desires.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

“Fuck, I needed you.” Oscar groans out, thrusting himself ever deeper into your mouth. “Talking ‘bout how vanilla we are. But look at us.” The position you were in was unimaginable. You lay on your back, head on the edge of the sofa as Oscar rammed into your mouth with his fingers opening you wide and making you cum. But still, that wasn’t enough, your hands tied together and a spreading bar made sure your legs couldn’t be shut, always ready for Oscar, but with a blindfold over your eyes how would you know? Each of your moans were muffled by his cock and as one of his hands played with your clit the other toyed with your nipple.

Blood rushed to your head from this position and it filled in for the loss of his hand around your neck. Oscar pounded into you, his dick making you gag as you deepthroated him. An explosion of fireworks inside of you as he continued making you cum, a loud scream trying it’s best to flee your puffy lips, but Oscar couldn’t help but enjoy hearing you struggle to make out any coherent sounds because of his cock. 

By now it was impossible to remember the amount of times he had made you release. From his mouth, fingers and dick, all you did know was that that number was only going to increase. 

Each of his moves were so intense, Oscar had you spellbound. Unable to notice anything other than him. Well that was until he pounded himself as deep as he could into your mouth and then stopped. Everything went silent.

“Oh fuck! Oscar?!” Those words certainly didn’t come out of your mouth, and when you realised who did say that, oh you couldn’t have been more embarrassed, but somehow aroused. Seconds later the door finally shut, and you could only think about the uncensored view Lando had of the both of you. 

“Fuck, I’ll deal with him later. But for now…you need to cum.” Pulling out of your swollen mouth and grabbing you off the couch to lay your shamelessly sinful body on the floor. Oscar doesn’t take his time, manhandling your legs so your feet are nearly inline with your head and then making your arms keep them back by going in front of the spreader bar.

Leaving your pussy so exposed and vulnerable that Oscar could do whatever he liked between those drenched folds. It was always a gamble with Oscar, sometimes he’d take his time to tease you, others he wouldn’t even give you time to catch breath. This was just as unpredictable as others, by now you would either be covered in your own tears from his edging or on the verge of passing out because you could feel him in your throat after coming in you repeatedly. 

You felt less of an advantage, not even being able to lay eyes on him, so you listened to your own heavy breathing until he touched you again. Fingers going between your folds and spreading them apart with his index and ring finger. Lightly teasing you with his middle one. “Looks like you’ve had enough today huh? Or can you take one more?” 

You nod your head as an answer, but it’s never enough as he asks you for words.

“Y-yes. I can take more.” You force out between breaths, in shock of how you even managed to say those words. 

“Oh really? Well that’s great.” Oscar holds your pliant body up even further and then makes a swift move of ramming himself deep inside of you. Once again it pulled all of the oxygen from your lungs and the stretch from the position couldn’t be compared to the stretch from his cock. You couldn’t complain as he thrusted in again and hit your g-spot. Bringing more tears to your red eyes.

Grunts and groans slipping past his lips and making his actions such a godly sensation. 

Oscar pounds himself into you with no mercy, finding pleasure in your moans and cries. You wish to hold him, dig your fingers into his shoulders and mark his back. Adorn his pale skin in love bites and make his lips swollen. Thinking about the way his body flexes with every thrust and how divine he would look from this position that you’ve been in many times but each new one has a different effect.

“What’d you think Lando’s telling them?” Oscar grips your thighs tighter–fingers certainly making bruises– keeping you in place as he vigorously rams inside of your overstimulated pussy. Never losing pattern or momentum.

“You think he’s telling them about how you took me so well? Your hands tied up? And how fucking good you looked between my legs.” Each of Oscar’s words having such an effect on you it could've been a trick of hypnotism. Your legs shaking and lips parted as you came. Oscar savoured the beautiful sounds leaving your mouth and he worked harder to fuck your high out and bring his in.

You clenched around him, forcing a moan to finally leave his lips and bless your ears. Oscar spasms and releases inside of you. Pushing himself so deep and his cum even deeper. He thrusts a few more times, easing both of you out and spreading his cum inside your walls. Oscar sits in you for a while before pulling out. “Fuck, that was so. Fucking. Good.” He starts untying you and helping you come undone from all of the restraints. Letting you lay flat on the floor as he did all the work.

“I would’ve been in you for hours if he didn’t come in. Can’t imagine what he said to them”

Oscar crawls up your body and plants a kiss on your lips. 

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

Finally leaving Oscar’s room you both didn’t know what to expect. Well definitely not drivers surrounding a small table as Lando spoke to them all with hand actions and his face even worse. 

“Y’know vanilla isn’t even that bad. But wow Piastri, I didn’t think that.” Daniel brings all the attention to you two. Every driver turned their head with a series of reactions on their faces.

“You are freaky Oscar.” Logan couldn’t hold back and somehow Fernando was there to agree with him.

“I have to tell Charles! Now I know what you two do.” Pierre smirks, making you blush and look at the ground.

“Well I guess I was wrong, but Oscar why didn’t you tell me you sneaky boy. Because then I had to see it.” 

“It seemed like you wanted to join.” 

“No I-”

“The way you’re speaking about Lando, it seemed like you wanted to join.” Daniel once again kind of saving Oscar from these unfortunate topics.

“What? Guys this is about Oscar and how freaky he is with his girlfriend!”

“If you want to join, just ask.” You finally speak, teasing Lando and watching the way his face changes. 

“Oh you guys are so not vanilla!”

[theemporium]

a wee blurb based off this and a conversation with @scuderiahoney 🤠

.

Oscar Piastri never got drunk, at least not in front of his fellow Formula One colleagues. 

It wasn’t obvious at first. He was a rookie, a new kid on the grid, the new guy who kind of started off with a bang before he even sat in the car with all the drama surrounding his contract. It wasn’t out of this world to assume he was a little shy and didn’t feel all that comfortable getting drunk with people who had known each other for years. 

But the season progressed and friendships grew, and yet still Oscar Piastri just never seemed to get drunk. 

He would have a drink or two, maybe a bottle of beer on top if he had a big meal beforehand. But he never passed the point of tipsy, never passed the point where he wasn’t totally aware of what he was doing. 

Lando had cornered Logan Sargeant after one of the races, hell bent on trying to figure out what the deal was with his teammate. 

“So what’s Oscar’s deal with drinking?” 

The blond turned to him, brows raised in surprise. “What?” 

“What’s his deal? Why does he not go beyond three drinks?” Lando questioned, insistent and eager for answers. 

“I don’t think that’s in my place to say—” Logan started before he was cut off. 

“Is he a recovering alcoholic?” 

Logan blinked. “What?” 

“I’m not judging!” Lando quickly added, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’d just feel like a right dick if I was pushing him to do something he was recovering from, you know?” 

“And you went straight to alcoholism?” Logan shook his head. “Dude, did it ever occur to you that maybe he just doesn’t like drinking?” 

Lando narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Have you ever seen him drunk?” 

Logan paused, only for a few seconds but it was enough to make the Brit gasp. 

“You have!” Lando grinned when he noticed a flush spread across Logan’s face. “Oh god, that must mean it’s embarrassing! What’s the deal, huh? Does he start stripping after four drinks? Get angry? Turn into the Incredible Hulk?” 

Logan rolled his eyes. “I don’t think Oscar would appreciate me saying, he gets shy about it.”

The Brit let out a huff. “You’re no fun to gossip with, Sargeant.” 

But as it would turn out, Lando and the rest of the grid would find out exactly why Oscar never went beyond his three drink limit in the Aussie’s second season. 

The season was young, the car was good and by some fucking miracle, Oscar had found himself on the podium at his home race. It was a thrill he never expected to feel, it was a buzz that he felt himself slowly becoming addicted to. And the fact there was a large group of people he called home cheering him on when he accepted his trophy definitely didn’t help. 

He was on a high and he didn’t want to stop—and neither did the drinks. It seemed like every driver he bumped into in the small club seemed eager to buy him a drink to celebrate, and Oscar was so high on adrenaline that he couldn’t bring himself to care about his limit. 

It was somewhere after his fifth drink and his third round of shots when Lando found him. He looked lost as he stood in the middle of the dance floor, his lips turned down (almost in a pout) and his wide eyes looking around the place. 

Lando frowned, making his way over as he clapped his teammate on the shoulder. “You all good, mate?” 

To his surprise, Oscar shrugged his hand off with a frown. “No.”

Lando blinked, something quite like concern bubbling inside him. “No? Did something happen?” 

“I—” Oscar paused as he continued to look around the club. “I want her.” 

“Huh?” 

“I want—” Oscar let out a frustrated noise, almost a bit like a whine. “I want my girl. Where’s my girl?” 

Realisation slowly dawned on Lando as he noted the fact you weren’t with your boyfriend. He knew you joined them at the club, the three of you had taken a taxi together but he hadn’t seen you in a few hours. 

“Uh, I don’t know, mate,” Lando answered honestly, which didn’t feel the right thing to say as Oscar began to push through the crowd. “Woah, Oscar—”

“I want my girl,” Oscar muttered once again, barely audible over the blasting music. 

Lando was quick to follow him through the crowd, aimlessly trying to help and make Oscar stand in one place so they could text you but the boy seemed hell bent on having you in his arms in that second. 

It took five minutes—five long, agonising minutes—before they found you. The second Oscar’s eyes landed on you, it was like the pouty boy from before was nowhere to be seen as a huge grin took over his face. 

“MY GIRL!” 

You couldn’t help but let out a giggle as your boyfriend barrelled towards you, wrapping his arms around you and practically pressing every inch of his body against yours. 

Lando watched as you hugged him back, as your grin matched his whilst you pressed a kiss to his cheek. He waited for the two of you to pull apart, to stand shoulder to shoulder because that was usually as touchy as either of you got in public. 

But Oscar didn’t let go. 

“Baby,” you murmured, your voice soft and amused as Oscar nuzzled his head further into the crook of your neck. 

“Uh,” Lando couldn’t even help himself, the alcohol in his system fuelling his confusion and loose lips. “Is he okay?” 

You turned to the Brit, a smile on your lips. “Oh yeah, he just gets a bit…clingy when he’s drunk.” 

“M’not clingy,” Oscar grumbled but he made no move to pull himself away from you. 

“Of course not,” you mused as your hands fell to either side of his cheeks, lifting his head enough to press a kiss to his forehead before letting it fall down to lean on your shoulder again. You turned to Lando with a shrug. “We’ll probably head out now. You joining us?” 

“Nah,” Lando waved you off, still somewhat flabbergasted by what he was witnessing. “You think you’ll get him home alright by yourself?” 

You snorted. “He’s basically a big baby at this point, I’ve got him.” 

“M’not a baby,” Oscar huffed out. 

You only grinned in response. “C’mon, baby, let’s go.” 

Oscar lifted his head, blinking slowly with a hopeful look on his face. “Cuddles?” 

“Cuddles,” you confirmed, waving the Brit goodbye before you made your way towards the exit of the club. 

Lando stood there, mouth agape as he stared at your parting figures when Logan found him. The American was grinning from ear to ear, taking a long dreg from his beer bottle. 

“It would’ve been less of a mindfuck if he was an alcoholic, right?” Logan commented with a snort. 

“I feel…dirty seeing him so touchy,” Lando whispered. 

Logan laughed. “Yeah, just be glad you haven’t seen him when he’s high yet.” 

Lando’s head snapped around, looking both intrigued and alarmed. “Why? What is he like when he’s high?” 

The boy grinned wider.

“LOGAN, WHAT DO YOU MEAN?”

.

[piggyinthesea]

Shoelace Theory

would they tie your shoelaces?

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ғᴏʀᴍᴜʟᴀ ᴏɴᴇ ɢʀɪᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ: ᴏsᴄᴀʀ ᴘɪᴀsᴛʀɪ, ᴅᴀɴɪᴇʟ ʀɪᴄᴄɪᴀʀᴅᴏ, ᴄᴀʀʟᴏs sᴀɪɴᴢ, ᴍᴀx ᴠᴇʀsᴛᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ, ᴄʜᴀʀʟᴇs ʟᴇᴄʟᴇʀᴄ, ʟᴇᴡɪs ʜᴀᴍɪʟᴛᴏɴ, ʟᴀɴᴅᴏ ɴᴏʀɪss, ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ ʀᴜssᴇʟʟ, ᴘɪᴇʀʀᴇ ɢᴀsʟʏ, ʏᴜᴋɪ ᴛsᴜɴᴏᴅᴀ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: ᴊᴜsᴛ ғʟᴜғғ, sʟɪɢʜᴛ ʀᴜᴅᴇɴᴇss

inspired by orange peel theory

✿

Oscar Piastri:

What? No. You could tie your own shoes. He’s not gonna stop what he’s doing to kneel down and tie your shoes.

“But why?!” You groan, following him around the paddock with your shoes untied. Almost suddenly, you trip. If it wasn’t for Oscar swiftly catching you, you would’ve ate shit.

He begrudgingly kneels down, tying your shoes. “Next time, I won’t tie your shoelaces.”

It was a lie. He did tie your shoelaces the next time.

Daniel Ricciardo:

He’s in the middle of entering his racing car when you ask him does. He looks at you puzzled but then quickly kneels down and ties them. It didn’t surprise you though, his kids must ask him all the time.

You wished him good luck before being ushered out of the garage. After the race, he comes to you with his shoes untied.

“Can you tie them for me?”

Will be salty if you don’t tie them for him

Carlos Sainz:

You asked him in the post-interviews, shamelessly interrupting. He stammers, “Could you excuse me one moment?”. At first you thought he was asking you to excuse him, until he quickly kneels down and ties your shoelaces, giving a small smile as he looks up at you.

He gets back up, mindlessly running his hand through his hair.

“What’d you think of the race?”, Carlos asks you.

“Great results! Proud of you.” You quip, raising your hands and offering a high five in which he quickly reciprocates. He watches you walk away, until he’s knocked out of his trance by the interviewer he had forgotten was still standing in front of him.

Safe to say Carlos is not so great at hiding his little crush on you.

Max Verstappen:

You catch him lacking in the Red Bull garage, and his face falls as soon as he sees you. You were the grid’s prankster and your go-to victim was always Max.

“Leave me alone, please!” He feigns fear, holding his hands up while guarding his face. He flinches when you’re in front of him, leaving you with guilt for all those pranks you’ve played on max. You had the poor boy traumatized.

“Tie my shoestrings, pretty please!” Your words came out innocent. Max looked at you as if you had grown two heads.

Suddenly he stands up, raising a fist towards you, “Get out of here!”. Of course he wasn’t actually going to punch you, he was just pranking you back.

You clench a paper-ball in your back pocket. You slowly pull it out, and instantly throw it at him. You make a run for the door, and frantically start screaming “Help!” as you hear a pair of monster feet stomping behind you.

Charles Leclerc:

He had always been nice to you. Your conversations with him had always been friendly and extremely normal. So of course, when you asked he did it. No questions asked.

The two of you continue your conversation and end up splitting ways shortly after. A few days later, he came to you with a box of converse shoes, in your size.

“So you don’t have to ask people to constantly tie your shoes.” Charles stands by as he watches you open the box, a cute smile placed on his face. He had bought you strap on shoes. He genuinely thought you didn’t know how to tie your shoes.

You did develop a little crush on him because of this.

Lewis Hamilton:

No. He avoids you at all costs. Word had gotten around on the grid about you and your shoelaces. He refused to take part of this tomfoolery and when you asked him all he did was look straight in your eyes.

He stared at you silently. A few moments pass, and suddenly he books it and runs out of the Mercedes garage and leaves you there.

That man runs INCREDIBLY fast.

Lando Noriss:

He was waiting for you to ask him and nearly sheds a tear when you do. This boy feels incredibly honored tying your shoes.

“Why yes, Madam, I will tie your shoes.”

He definitely feels included and takes it as some sort of badge of honor being included in your pranks. He goes around telling everyone about how you asked him to tie your shoes but then he finds out how many people have already tied your shoes. He was under the impression it was only Max and Oscar who had tied your shoes already but when he found out Lewis, Carlos, Charles, and Daniel had already tied your shoes before him, he felt BETRAYED.

This man ignores you for three whole days because of how late he was included. You make it up for him by doing the one thing he loved, including him in pranks. He takes it extremely well when you surprise him by shoving a face in his cake randomly and sprinting away. He laughs and begins speaking terms with you again.

George Russell:

George Russell noticed your shoes. They weren’t regular ones, these were the strap on converse Charles had gotten you. It’s funny really, because somehow they still ended up unstrapped. How was that even possible? Wasn’t the strap made of Velcro or something?

Though there’s no possible way you could hurt yourself by having unstrapped shoes. He watches you for 10 minutes, engaging in conversations with Charles. He hyperfixates on that unstrapped shoe like it’s the end of the world. It irks him to no end.

Maybe it was an ocd thing, but he completely stops the conversation you and Charles had, to stick your strap onto the sticky part of the velcro.

“Your shoe wasn’t strapped.”

Pierre Gasly:

You CAN’T find him. It’s like he completely disappeared from the face of the world, and it sucks because this time you wore your regular laced shoes for the purpose of getting him to tie them.

I mean, he had to turn up at some point, for racing season. The day you finally saw him was during qualifying. Pierre was being interviewed and you took this as your opportunity to sneak up on him.

“Pierre, can you tie-”

“No. So anyways-”

Pierre completely shuts you down, and engages in the interviewers conversation. The interviewer gave you an awkward side-eye, luckily, Max overheard him and quickly runs to the rescue as your partner in crime.

He grabs a firm grip on Pierre’s neck from behind, “Mate, you’re gonna have to tie her shoes.” He adds slight pressure, enough for Pierre to oblige, but not enough to catch a case or a fine from the FIA.

Pierre kneels down with Max’s hand still on his neck and obediently ties your shoestrings. Max lets go of his hold on Pierre once he ties them, and gives you a high five ‘mission accomplished’ style.

Yuki Tsunoda:

Nope. Not unless you tie his shoes. He hears none of your complains and refuses to tie your shoes unless he gets something in return. Honestly, give him a piece of candy and he’ll do it. Unfortunately, you’re too stubborn.

Why won’t he just tie your shoes? Totally not cool. What if you trip, hit your head, and end up in a coma for ten years? It would be entirely his fault.

You fill his mind with all these over exaggerated ways on how you could die by not having him tie your shoelaces. It doesn’t work on him and so you leave him be & angrily huff out the room. He finds himself rethinking all the ways you’ve stated you could have possible died. It’s kind of realistic falling and hitting your head ultimately ending with you in a coma. He begins to spiral and before he knows it his anxiety has taken over his mind. He sets out to look for you, walking into various empty rooms and starts searching even more frantically.

What if you’re already on the floor unconscious??

He whips open the ferrari’s garage door and finds you talking to one of the mechanic’s you made friends with. He looks down at your shoelaces, still untied. He rushes over, double knotting your laces and letting out a sigh of relief before leaving you confused.

[imaginaryf1shots]

Rival? Friend? Lover | Max Verstappen

WC: 1.8K

Max Verstappen x Driver!Reader

Summery: (REQUESTED) You and Max have been rivals for so long but does that mean you hate him, did you ever hate each other.

Masterlist

Getting into F1 as a female was always deemed impossible, only on the basis that you are a female. The mostly male sport was never welcoming to different people who do  it for their mould, doesn't matter how many videos they do or empty words they say. However, that didn't stop you from trying. Driving in F1 has always been your dream, you didn't care about other motorsports, you wanted to be a part of the pinnacle of motorsports, to race in the best and fastest cars in the world. Getting there wasn't easy, the road was filled with blood sweat and tears and  ups and downs, more downs than ups, but nonetheless here you are today the first female in over 30 years racing an F1 car. And so is your rival Max Verstappen.

It's a well known fact between everyone who's into F1 that you don't have to be enemies to be rivals, as evident by all the friendships on the grid, but you and Max seemed like you're enemies. Since you've been in your karting days and you've always been against each other, always trying to best the other. So many edits of your rivally from Karting to F1 have made their way online.

*

“Max is right behind.” your race Engineer says through the radio.

“Really? I didn't notice.” You day dryly focusing on defending from the number 1 car behind you. He's all over your mirrors. “What is wrong with him? The track is too narrow for this shit.”

“Just focus on defending.” The RE says and you would've rolled your eyes if it weren't for the fact that you're racing at a high speed. 

“Please stop talking!” You're stressed, Max is about to get DRS on you. You're turning the corner before a straight, and what do you know it seems your years of racing together affected your driving because you both went right at the same time and he had DRS on you, causing his car to slam straight into yours. The world stops for a moment, you let go of the steering wheel and hold your breath. You hit the wall once and stop, not a second later Max’s car slams into yours. Red flag is instantly issued and you breathe. Both cars are damaged with bits all over the track.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Your RE asks and you take a breath before saying you're okay. Adrenaline is rushing through your body and you lean back going through your limbs seeing where it hurts.

The moment Max’s car stops he gets out of the car and rushes to your car, he doesn't see you getting out making his heart beat in his chest as dread washes all over him. 

“Y/N! Y/N!” Max shouts going to your car, you look up at him through the visor, his visor is up so you can see his worried eyes looking at you. “Are you hurt?”

“I don't think so.” You say and take out your wheel and slowly stand up, Max has his arms in the air to help you if you need it. The Marshalls are arriving and you jump out of the car, Max has his arm on your back as you get your balance back. 

“Are you sure you're okay?” He asks, seeing how out of balance you are.

“Yeah, just a bit shocked.” You mutter not sure if he heard you or  not. But the safety car is here, and a Marshall leads you to the car to be taken to the medical bay.

You're out of there in no time, walking out you find Max standing near the entrance.

“Did you get hurt?” You ask the Dutch driver, he looks up at the sound of your voice taking you in, your hair is loose and the suit is by your waist. 

“No.” 

“Why are you still here then?” You ask him frowning.

“What, you own the medical bay now?” He says and you scoff, shaking your head at his tone and words, you show him your middle finger as you walk past him. Max curses himself and looks at your figure walking away asking himself the million dollar question ‘since when do I care about this nuisance Well being?’ 

Later on Max is with Lando after the race at a club, with a few drinks in each they're both feeling the effects of the alcohol.

“You know with the crash today, if it was anyone other than y/n you would've had their head for the crash.” Lando says and wiggles his eyebrows teasingly at the RedBull driver.

“No I wouldn't, that's old me.” Max mutters while taking a sip from his drink.

“You literally had a fight with Ocon a few races ago because he clipped your front wing, mind you, you still came first.” Lando points out and Max says nothing. “Also a birdie told me you stayed at the med bay to check on her.”

“Huh, and who might this birdy be?” Max asks and Lando does the motion of zipping his lips. “ you know if you keep saying things like this i'll go find someone else to drink with.”

“I'm sure you'll find y/n somewhere around here.” 

Lando laughs as Max leaves him in the direction of the bar.

*

At another race week, y/n is in the media conference after a race at your home race.

“Y/n, tell me it's been a tough getting past the RedBulls and especially Max, it's been a while since you got a win and some had their hopes on you today, and a lot of the fans are upset and are saying that its become boring now with Max winning every week, what's your take on this?”

“Uh, I feel like it's a bit unfair.” You say looking at the interviewer, Max is literally next to you on the sofa, sometimes you wonder what the interviewers expect to happen when they ask things like this. “It's unfair to hate on someone just because they're winning, you can't expect someone to lose when they can win, if I was in his position I'd give it my all and try to win as much as I could as well.” You shrug. “So all the booing and the hate makes no sense to me and frankly it's unfair.”

“So you don't want to win?” They ask and you frown.

“Where did I ever say that, of course I want to win, I wouldn't still be driving if I didn't think that, this is my home race of course I wanted to win but that's besides the point.” They open their mouth to ask something else and you roll your eyes before cutting them off. “Thank you, next question and to someone else please, I'm not entertaining this any further.”

You place your microphone next to you and take one out of Lewis's books and put on your sunglasses, you're clearly unamused. 

It takes everything in you not to look at Max and wish for this to be over already.

Later on you're walking with Alex and George. “You know I thought you and Max are like the biggest enemies in F1 history.”

You roll your eyes at Alex's words and say nothing.

“Me too, but did you hear her at the conference?” 

“Piss off both of you, I mean I barely said anything, I just don't get how so many people hate on him just for winning, yes I'm tired of the RB dominance but you can't hate an athlete for just winning. How is that girl?” You ramble a bit not realising the looks the taller drivers shared.

“I don't think you realise how you and Max aren't enemies any more.” You scoff at George's words and cross your arms.

“He's still annoying and stuck up.” You mutter frowning.

“You're convincing no one.” Alex says and you sigh.

“Okay whatever, see you later losers.” You say and break off from them to head to your motorhome.

You hear them laughing and flip them over your shoulder. Making them laugh even more.

*

You blame luck, honestly why is your luck so bad? What are the chances of you and Max staying in the same hotel, and what are the chances for you to be in the same left at the same time. AND what are the chances of it breaking down.

“What the heck?” You ask once the left stops moving, you were looking at your phone since you got on. Your eyes fell onto the other rider, who you just realised is Max.

Max presses the floor numbers before pressing the help one. Nothing. 

“Press the help button.” You say.

“What do you think I just did?” Max says frustrated you unlock your phone only to see no signal.

“Do you have a signal?” 

“No.” 

A few minutes later you're sitting on the elevator floor with Max sitting on the other side. You've been silent for a while before Max broke the silence.

"You know, someone said we would make the perfect team." He said out of nowhere. 

"Eww! No!" Was your natural response.

"That's what I thought." Max said and you fell into silence once more. 

“Why do you think we wouldn't make a good team?” You ask Mqx curious about his answer.

“You literally said no too.” Max replied.

“I know… but why do you think that.?” 

“I don't know, we've always been rivals, to be teammates and work together it's just… it's weird.” Max says and you hummed. “What about you? Why do you think we wouldn't make a good team?”

“It's the same I guess.” You shrug and look at your fingers, thinking it over you don't know why, being Max's rival has been all you know for so many years, it's like second nature to you, but thinking back you don't think he's ever done anything to warrant the hate that you realise is not there anymore. You're not sure if it ever was. You whisper. “I'm trying so hard to hate you.” 

“why?” Max asks and you look at him only to find him already looking at you. 

“I have no idea, you've been my biggest rival since we were kids and it's ingrained in me to not like you, but, I don't think we have to hate each other to be rivals.” You say not to overthink the words coming out before you say them. “I just realised that I have no reason to hate you and I don't think that I ever did.”

“To be honest we were kids and then teenagers, lots of unbalanced hormones there.” Max points out and you agree with him, there's a long moment of silence before he says “I don't think I've hated you for a long time as well.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

It takes another ten minutes before the left is working again and you're out. Later that day you get a text from an unknown number.

Unknown Number

Hey its Max

I got your number from Lando

Y/N

Hey it's okay 

What's up?

Max

I know it might be weird but

Do you want to go out with me?

Y/N

Like a date?

Max

Yeah

Y/N

When and where 

[cheriladycl01]

Ghost - Oscar Piastri x UnknownDriver! Reader Part 3

Plot: Reader is the first female F1 driver of the century, however no-one knows that as you are a ghost on the grid. You started in 2022, coming in P12 in the championship. You get moved to Red Bull Racing in 2023 with the off year for Sergio Perez.

Credit to yrsonpurpose for the GIF

Standing up on the podium, not being able to do anything as you watched Oscar run off was torture. You had to stay there while your national anthem played that should have been amazing considering it was you, Lewis and Lando all up there together.

And of course, there were no breaks for you afterwards. Everyone wanted you, from SkySports, to F1, to Netflix. Everyone was throwing questions at you and asking how different your achievements feel now knowing that your the first woman to have completed many of them.

You were fine answering them, because like they said. All of your previous achievements were now bigger than they were as Ghost. People could tell that you weren't fully with them, you were a little spacey and sometimes struggled with hearing and answering the questions.

Most of them put it down to the post race fuzz of the win and revealing who you were, but upon getting to the Sky Sports Team who consisted of Jenson Button, Nico Rosberg, Natalie Pinkham and Danica Patrick questions turned sour.

"So Y/N aside from racing we caught light of Oscar Piastri's quick depart after the reveal, any insight on this?" Danica asks, making you look down.

"I don't think these questions are necessary" Jenson says just as the Red Bull PR manager was about to ask for racing related questions only.

"Yes please stick to racing questions only" the Red Bull PR backs up, nodding before taking a step back. You look back up, straight to Nico who had a soft look on his face.

"I'm just interested, you raced for Alpine last year when he was a reserve driver... for Alpine and you've been promoted to Red Bull this year while Piastri's made the move to Mclaren. Can't help but wonder if its underlying sexism that's made him this mad, you all cant deny he was blunt and rude in his interview with us earlier" Danica pushes and you head snaps up. You feel a hand on your shoulder as if to stop you from what your about to say but you go ahead anyway.

"I've hurt a dear friend. So how dare you stand there and try to victimize me, when he is the one that I've hurt. He knew me as Ghost's assistant and media manager... we were close and I've not been truthful to him for obvious reasons. So don't stand there and try to make him out to be a misogynistic twat when he isn't. I don't know what you experienced in NASCAR Danica but in F1 all I've experienced today is love and support. Just because your sport sucks doesn't mean mine does" you snap, and recoil shocked that you'd just said all of that. She looks at you also in shock, Jenson and Nico were trying to stop their laughter.

"Well, some strong opinions there from Y/N Y/L/N" Jenson says as he watches you turn away and walk off. You were done with interviews for the day. You just wanted to find Oscar and talk to him now.

"Lando! Lando" you shout as you see the curly haired boy ahead of you walking into the Mclaren motorhome.

"Hey, Y/N or should i say Ghost" he smiles before pulling you into a hug.

"I was not expecting that bombshell today, and I will admit I'm sorry for assuming you were some ugly guy... your very obviously not" he laughs.

"Where's Oscar" you ask, you didn't want to seem rude but of course he was your priority right now.

"Y/N, I don't think its a good idea to see him right now. I think maybe just wait for him to come to you. He's upset and" he starts but you look him dead in the eye.

"He upset me too, he just ran off... at my first race win" you say as selfish as it was... but he also ruined that experience for you.

"I know, but you did like lie to him for just under 2 years" Lando says softly not wanting to rattle your already unstable cage of self hatred.

"And what was i supposed to do Lando, tell him a secret that Red Bull had me sign an NDA over and break my contract and risk loosing my seat?" you ask, hoping he would start to understand.

"Look Y/N you really should go..." Lando pushes looking around the area you were currently in. He put a hand on your lower back as to guide you back out, but you planted yourself still.

"No, I'm not leaving till i talk to him" you grunt.

"Y/N I'm telling you this as your friend and your co-worker. You need to go" he says, you'd actually never seen his eyes this serious before and it had your head cocking to the side in confusion.

As your about to ask him why the hell he's being so twitchy, two people stumble out of the next room a little disheveled and both laughing. You eyes lock on them.

"O-Oscar?" you ask in shock, the girl looks up at him confused and his face turns red but also a sour expression comes onto his face.

Before any of them can say anything your turning away from them, everything feels slow motion, all the voices around you blur and your heartbeat comes erratic.

You couldn't understand why it hurt so much, the thought of him not even for a moment being happy for you up on a podium that he come here to be with some other girl ... or was it because in the time you'd spent with him you'd fallen for the racer.

You round the corner, stumbling behind the Mclaren motorhome so that you could just breath. You crouch down, your head leaning back against the side.

"Fucks sake" you say to yourself, once you'd calmed yourself from the initial shock you fully sat down on the metal edging outside the Mclaren motorhome.

"Y/N?" you hear a voice ask, your head peaks up and you spot Alex and Logan.

"Oh, hey guys. Great Race today!" you smile.

"Why are you just sat outside the Mclaren motorhome?" Logan asks raising an eyebrow at you.

"Oh, erm no reason. I just got lost on my way back to Red Bull" you smile standing up and walking to the long strip and turning left.

"Your still clearly lost, Red Bull's that way" Alex says pointing to the right hand side, that you weren't facing.

"Right, yeah i knew that" you smile, turning round and scuttering off the other way.

To say that the UK was the start of something spectacular was an understatement. You didn't go out and celebrate that night, you stayed in with your family.

The next race was Hungary where you proceeded to take the win away from Max in the last 3 laps, being on the fresher tires. They asked you to let Max take the win but you begged for them to let you fight it out. You shared the podium with Max and Lando, in Spa you came second, sharing the podium with Max and Charles and in The Netherlands you came 4th.

Throughout all of this Oscar hadn't reached out to you. You'd kept in contact with Lando, asking how he was and what had been going on. However Monza changed things.

An article came out about an interview Oscar had done about you and how you hadn't spoken to him since. He hadn't spoken very nicely about you when all you'd done was stick up for him. You guys got into a massive argument outside the garages that of course people caught on camera.

You had a really bad qualifying, the car just didn't have pace and your mind wasn't in the right place. So you were starting P14 on the grid, after a cry to Christian that you were so overwhelmed and him assuring you that it was today that really mattered.

You had turned off everything when you got in the car on the Sunday. No thoughts in your head just the racing. On the start you managed to get yourself to P12 overtaking Liam and Nico right of the bat.

"Excellent start Y/N lets keep pushing"

Martin Bundle - I have to say that Y/N is incredible with these races where she starts down in the back of the grid, and she gets those amazing starts where she slips in the middle of the two drivers ahead and is able to confidently get herself up too places

"Okay, and Alonso are ahead, you have DRS" your engineer tells you, and you are able to overtake Yuki who doesn't go as aggressively into the chicane as you do. You have a little spin but recover enough to pull up aside Alonso on the straight, going for the overtake.

"Amazing Y/N, that's P10 right now. Keep pushing"

Eventually you were left fighting Carlos, Max clipped a tire and was now down in 4th fighting with Charles.

"Y/N this has been a fantastic race, from P14 up to P2, Carlos is 1.8 second ahead. Lets get him and bring home a double podium. Max is fighting for P3 right now. 5 laps to go" he advises.

"Tell him to speed up, I'll give him DRS we can overtake Sainz together so its a 1.2" you advise looking seeing the Ferrari behind you. You slow down on the hairpin, breaking early, which Charles didn't expect where he was concentrating on defending from Max. You speed up, watching as he spins out a little leaving room for Max on the inside.

"Okay, Sainz has sped up there's now a 2.6 second gap"

"Copy that" you say, Max was using your slip stream, but didn't go for the overtake, you easily defended from Charles together while gaining on the other Ferrari.

"Okay last two laps, Sainz, 0.3 second gap"

"Yeah i can fucking tell I'm riding his rear end" you say, the minute you get onto the straight you and Max both go either side of Sainz, sandwiching him in as your about to go into turn 11. He breaks early falling back leaving you to take the optimal racing line and get ahead of Max.

"Is Max fighting this last lap?" you ask.

"He's been told is free to fight. Mode push and bring us another win" your race engineer advises, you breeze through the final lap, it was a close call but you came first.

"Y/N Y/L/N winner of the 2023 Italian Grand Prix" your race engineer says a big grin coming onto your face as you flip up the visor holding your fist up as you see all the Red Bull crew cheering for you on the fencing.

"Where did Oscar place?" you ask, you hadnt thought about him up until now. Even as you passed the orange 81 car, it was just another car then.

"Not a good race for Piastri, P12 behind Lawson"

"Okay. Thank you for the great drive today. Thank you Christian" you say before preparing yourself for the podium.

Would Oscar be there?

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 @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle

[swallowsummer]

My latest sashiko patch, using the asanoha (hemp leaves) pattern.

This is the second mend I’ve done using a tissue paper template. See below for details on how it works (or doesn’t - I’m undecided).

1. Pin your patch in place on the inside of the item of clothing.

2. Trace grid and design onto tissue paper. My tissue is just scrap from packaging. I traced over a quilting ruler to get everything lined up.

3. Pin in place over the fabric. I didn’t bother removing the original pins, but did leave a wide border round the tissue to help with pinning.

4. Use the pattern guide to sew, stitching through the tissue, original fabric and reinforcing fabric. The tissue will start to tear as you do this. I took out all the pins once I’d stitches all the vertical lines.

5. Peel away the tissue paper and your pattern is revealed! I actually did this a little early, as I had enough lines in place to complete the pattern without a template.

This is the second time I’ve tried this approach. It is really good for getting an accurate pattern - I’ve never had much luck with marking grids straight onto the fabric. However, it does make it really hard to get the fine details right, as the paper obscures them as you’re stitching. That’s why the centre points on my piece look so messy - I just couldn’t see where the other stitches were.

[disneyprincemuke]

you called * cl16

you called, so he came.

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: none.

notes: well, now i'm in the mood to write this bc i just found out my ex-boyfriend now has a girlfriend so i aM PULLING THIS OUT FROM THE DEEPEST PART OF MY SADNESS AND GUT

(i quit drinking) // (to forget you) // (you called)

charles wasn't actually going to come. when you called him, you were slurring and stumbling over your words about how you wanted to see him. he told you it wasn't a great idea until you started full-out sobbing on the phone about how much you missed him.

it was then shortly cut to max scolding you in the background. something about how he already told you not to call charles, but you still did. then max took the phone from you and told him off sternly that he better not show up.

yet, here you are in the passenger seat of his car, buckling your seatbelt on.

carmen was more than shocked to see him at max's front door, but max blew his head off when he walked by and caught a glimpse of him.

but you managed to convince him to let you go, promising the man that you would send him a text message when you got back to your hotel.

"thank you for coming," you say barely above a whisper. your eyes are set on straight the car parked in front of his.

he sees your thumbs fumbling with one another. "of course," he answers, "you called."

you turn your head to the window, completely away from him. being in this car only brought back so many memories. you're a lot more sober than you were about 20 minutes ago, after you'd puked in the toilet after a quick sob.

being in this car gave you flashbacks to when you'd be driving around on the way to parties or the bar with the grid boys. it was in this car that he'd driven you around monte-carlo for your first date, ending up by the bay into a private yacht for dinner.

“but why?” you turn back to him, your doe eyes piercing into his. they’re slightly red from the crying, your makeup has been taken off (courtesy of max after you cried and puked), and your lips swollen. “why did you come?”

charles can’t find it in himself to start driving. he turns his head, avoiding your gaze. “i wanted to come see you.” and very softly, he adds, “i missed you.”

you freeze. you were expecting numerous types of responses but him admitting that he missed you was not one of them.

“what?” there's an expression on your face that he cannot fathom at all.

"i said i missed you," he says slower. though, with most of your relationship spent in the presence of alcohol, he knows pretty well that you're not even drunk anymore. you're just using it as an excuse,.

you stare at him, mouth gaping wordlessly at him. you scoff audibly and click your tongue. "you miss me?" you shriek, eyebrows furrowing at his confession. “you miss me? are you fucking serious right now, charles?”

“yeah?” he raises an eyebrow, genuinely not knowing how to respond to you.

"charles, we broke up." there's a sadness in your eye that made his chest ache. he knows very well that you did, in fact, break up.

"why are you saying that like it was a one-sided thing? you also agreed it's better off we just part ways." charles' growing frustration is very evident on his face, and it's still clear to you. "i didn't break up with you."

you still know when he's slowly getting irritated, or which expressions told you what's on his mind.

"because i saw you!" you throw your head back, running your hands through your hair as you tug on them roughly. "i watched you distance yourself from me, charles! the way you withdrew in the last couple of days we spent together, and apart. you called lesser, you stopped inviting me to your parties with friends, and you couldn't even look me in the eye anymore."

charles had no idea that this was what went through your mind. to him, he stopped inviting you to parties because he valued the fact that you hated waking up in the morning with a hangover. you had mentioned that it made getting up so much harder.

he started calling you lesser when you were apart because he was just simply busy. but, he did send you messages that he thought were enough to reassure you of the state of your fresh relationship.

not being able to look you in the eye had a simple explanation - he's fallen in love with you and has been afraid to admit it. after you spent a week apart busy with different projects and workload, he had picked you up from the airport for a race weekend and he felt it in his chest. he was just afraid to say it out loud for the fear that you would be too overwhelmed.

"that's not true." charles shakes his head. he turns his body away from you, looking ahead.

"then what's the truth?" you probe, lifting your shoulders to edge him for an answer. there is no way that you spent your days sulking over a man who missed you but never reached out.

but who are you to speak? you didn't either.

charles opens his mouth but quickly closes it. he shakes his head again. he contemplates the risk of saying it to you. you'd called him drunk, not expecting him to even pick up; it should be his turn to risk his feelings and possible embarrassment.

"i got scared," he says slowly, turning his head to look at you, "because i realised i love you. but i was just so scared to tell you. don't ask me why. i wanted to have you without the alcohol, that's why i didn't ask you out anymore."

"you can't just lie your way out of this, charles!" you scold with the roll of your eyes.

he rolls his eyes, finally starting up the car for a drive. "i'm going to drive you home now."

"yeah, maybe you should." you fold your arms over your chest and turn your head towards the window. your hotel isn't far, but it's quite a drive.

charles didn't even have the time to turn some music on, so you had sat in his car together in silence. the sound of the engine is the only thing that occupies the deafening stillness in the air.

you'd spent days locking yourself away, the thoughts of charles hopping on to someone else eating hours of your day away, taking up most of your breath as you'd sit on the floor crying with your cat in your arms.

to the point your mother had to remind you that charles is just a boy.

"do you mean it?" you break the silence as he turns into the lobby of the hotel. your eyes are glued to the window still with tears filling it to the brim.

you hear him sigh then shift in his seat. "of course, i do. i spent every waking moment of the past 6 weeks thinking of you and missing you. i hated every second i spent without you," he rambles. he takes a deep breath as the car comes to a slow stop. "i should have called you. i'm sorry."

you press your lips together. you turn to face him, but his stare is right ahead as he chews on the inside of his cheek. "i didn't think you liked me without the alcohol. i'm not as fun without it."

charles turns quickly to face you, instinctively grabbing your hands into his. "don't even say that," he pouts his lips out, "you are an even better person without it. please don't say that."

you close your eyes, knowing you might regret the decision in the morning. you open them and meet his blue eyes, a small smile stretching your lips.

what's the worst that could happen? if he meant his words, everything should be alright.

"do you want to have some coffee upstairs?"

you see relief wash over his face. with a deep breath, he exhales, his body melts into his car seat. he leans his head on his headrest. "as long as you promise me there's no alcohol."

[natailiatulls07]

grid’s reaction to driver reader giving them a hug or them hugging her ?

Hugs all around

Formula one grid & female!driver!reader

Summary - How does the drivers react to you hugging them

Warning - FLUFF

A/n - 😚😚😚

-

- Okay imagine this

- You’re in your drivers room after free practice one

- And you are just mindlessly scrolling through TikTok

- Until!

- You come across a TikTok of this girl

- She’s hugging her siblings and seeing how they react

- You immediately get the idea to do it with the drivers

- Planning that you were slightly upset with something and ask them to hug it better

- First victim: Daniel Ricciardo

- He immediately recognised the upset mood

- And crushed you into one of his big bear hugs, like the ones gave everyone Abu Dhabi 2022

- “Aww what’s up?”

- Second victim: Charles Leclerc

- This Ferrari was hard to track down but you found him in the media tent

- You sneak up on him

- Fully aware of all the cameras set up around the tent

- Hugging him behind

- He jumps before turning to discover you looking upset and hugging him

- “Oh hey, everything alright?”

- You nod your head and deepen the hug

- He actually gives surprisingly good hugs

- After a few seconds, you both come back o your senses and finish the hug

- Deciding to not tell Charles, you leave

- Third victim: Lewis Hamilton

- So when you joined the formula one grid, you looked up to Hamilton and you still do

- But you were never confident enough to even talk to him

- He was this god of the sport and you were just a rookie

- Until during a media press conference we were paired together with Lando who was late

- And he made conversation with you

- “Hey, Y/n right?”

- “Oh yeah, hi it’s so nice to meet you”

- Since that press conference Lewis sort of became like a fatherly figure to you in the sport

- So when he opened his drivers room door to find you looking ‘upset’

- He became very very concerned

- “Y/n hey what’s going on?”

- Having not thought of a backstory, you just asked for a hug which happily accepted

- Rubbing your back

- You two just stood there hugging for about five minutes before you quickly nodded your head and said thank you

- “It’s okay, don’t worry”

- “Hey Y/n, next time just come straight to me we’ll watch that show you were talking about”

- Fourth and final victim: Lando Norris

- He is soo cuddly!!

- You had texted him but without your usual energy

- He noticed IMMEDIATELY

- Two minutes later there’s a knock at your drivers room door

- Your drivers room is on the different side of the paddock to the McLaren garage!

- “Let me in. Now.”

- Making sure to put on that upset face before opening the door

- He has the most concerned face imaginable

- “What’s wrong?”

- You panic, you have no backstory

- “Can I just have a hug?”

- Great save!!

- Immediately Lando crashes you into the most bone crushing hug ever!

- His hand smooths up and down your back

- In that moment, you decide that if you were ever actually upset Lando is the best person to go to

- “Thank you Lan”

- “Anytime. You know that I care for you always.”

-

[mbappebby]

Sometimes you just need your brother || Pt.1

Summary: in which max's little sister finally feels free from her home life and max is there to support her straight away.

Makayla Verstappen (OC) x f1 grid

Series

makaylaverstappen

Liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 123,828 others

makaylaverstappen: study & new friends🦈💗

view all 1,183 comments

user12 Prettyyy😍

user61 Sharks are your new friends ?!

user81 Future marine biologist here !!

user62 The aesthetic✨

maxverstappen1 If u die, it’s your own fault!

makaylaverstappen wow, thanks bro

maxverstappen1 welcome Mack :)

user15 I love their relationship🥰

user61 Max and Kayla >>

user29 🥰🥰

user33 Max💀😭

landonorris How are you not scared ??

makaylaverstappen Nothing to be scared about!

landonorris It’s sharks!!

user19 Lando😭

user44 The fact that she’s 16 and so many people wouldn’t want to do what she’s doing🤣

//

Everyone knows what Jos Verstappen was like treating Max Verstappen growing up. Everyone saw that Max didn’t see his mother Sophie and his sister Victoria much due to him always travelling around the world.

When they got divorce, Jos went off and got married again and had more children who became Max and Victoria’s step siblings.

Max couldn’t say he had a favourite siblings, but when it came to Makayla Verstappen, her and Max got very close despite the big age gap.

Makayla Verstappen is a 16 year old, she has all her focus on her studies to hopefully achieve her dream of becoming a marine biologist.

If her father let her, that is..

Jos’s relationship with Makayla wasn’t good, they both argued all the time just because of the career Makayla wanted to have wasn’t good enough according to him.

They were always having an argument, like right now.

“Why can’t you just accept it’s the career I want to have!” Makayla said. “It’s not good enough Makayla, what good in the world does a marine biologist do?” Jos shouted.

“Mhm I don’t know! Making fucking looking after the animals and the planet?” Makayla shouted at him, something that she never had to courage to ever do until now.

“Don’t you dare shout at me, you know what will happen if you do that again? You’ll be out of this house” Jos spat has her. “I don’t wanna be there anyways!” Makayla said.

“Go then, I won’t care you are always in your bedroom all day everyday anyways!” Jos replied. “So, this is what you are doing? Kicking out a 16 year old!” Makayla exclaimed.

“Yes” Jos replied as Makayla just stared at him as he walked into the kitchen. She slowly made her way up to her bedroom to start packing a suitcase. After a few hours she had everything packed.

She was finally free.

//

Something that Max Verstappen wasn’t expected was to see his 16 year old sister the other side of this door, with a suitcase and a sad look on her face.

“Mack, how’d you get here?” Max asked her softly as helped her into his apartment and pulled her into a hug. The girl could see quite a few drivers there so she buried her head into his chest.

“C’mon, talk to us we won’t be able to help you otherwise” Daniel said as he walked over to the two siblings. “He kicked me out..” Makayla mumbled and all the drivers faces fell.

All that Max felt was anger, why in the world would his father kick out his daughter who is only 16 years old? He pulled out of the hug and went to go find his phone.

“Max! Don’t do anything please!” Makayla said as he tried to go after him but she was pulled into a hug by Lando. “Let him calm down,” Lando whispered.

Daniel went after Max to try to calm him down, Makayla had been led towards to couch and started to have a small chat with the drivers.

“Wait! What happens if I get put into care?! I’m not a legal adult!” Makayla exclaimed as Max appeared back into the room and wrapped his arms around his sister.

“Everything is going to be alright, I’ll get it all sorted out I promise you..” Max told her as he left a kiss on her forehead.

[pucksandpower]

Roll the Dice

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: You and Charles throw your own private celebration after one of the best races of the season

Warnings: 18+ content

The roar of the crowd still rings in your ears as you make your way through the paddock to find Charles. Your heart is bursting with pride after watching him fight his way to a hard-earned P2.

Las Vegas may be a new circuit but Charles drove it like he had been racing here for years. He made the Ferrari dance in ways you didn’t think were possible, squeezing every last hundredth out of each corner.

You spot him up ahead, finally free from the mob of reporters and post-race press conference. He’s leaning against the wall near the media pen in a rare moment of solitude, eyes closed and head tilted back, no doubt mentally replaying each complex sequence of braking points and apexes.

You take a moment just to look at him — the way his damp curls cling to his forehead, the zipper of his race suit undone and its sleeves tied at his waist to reveal soaked fireproofs that cling to every contour of his chest. He’s breathing heavily, a post-race flush still clinging to his cheeks.

He’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

As you draw nearer, his eyes blink open and immediately lock with yours. Relief, affection, and something more primal flash through them as a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“Y/N!” He shouts, hurrying over to sweep you up in a massive hug.

You squeeze him tight, not caring at all that he’s drenched in sweat and sticky with champagne. “I’m so proud of you!” You beam.

He sets you down, his hands lingering on your waist. “I couldn’t have done it without my good luck charm.”

You playfully smack his shoulder. “Oh stop, this was all you! I can’t believe the drive you put on out there. You were incredible!”

Charles glances down shyly. “Thank you, mon cœur. It was a good race tonight.”

“A great race,” you correct him, “You drove incredibly. I was on the edge of my seat the whole time, watching you battle with Max and Checo like that. It was the best thing I’ve seen all season.”

Taking his hand, you lead him away from the crowds. “Come on, let’s get you out of here. I think it’s time we celebrate!”

A flight in the early afternoon means you both decide to forego the wild Vegas parties and instead make your way straight to the hotel. Once you’re in your suite, Charles heads for the shower while you pour champagne. When he emerges in a billow of steam, you hand him a glass.

“To my champion!” You declare, clinking your glass against his.

Charles smiles graciously but you catch a flash of disappointment in his eyes. “I’m hardly a champion finishing P2.”

You fix him with a serious look. “That was the drive of a champion tonight. You left you heart on the track out there. If it wasn’t for that safety car, you would’ve won. I would have bet my life on it.”

He looks thoughtful as he takes a sip. “You really think so?”

“I know so! The way you managed to regain the lead from Max? And then from Checo? The move you pulled in the last lap to take P2? Incredible. My only regret is that you don’t have a car that would give you an opportunity to compete like this all season.”

Charles sighs. “The team is doing their best with what we’ve got.”

You set your glass down and rest your hands on his bare chest. “I know and you’re so patient with them. But a driver like you? You deserve to be fighting at the front in every single race.”

Looking into your eyes, Charles brushes a strand of hair from your face. “We’ll get there, I know it. This result today, it shows progress.”

“You’re right. It does,” you smile up at him. “And when you do get a car worthy of you, the rest of the grid better watch out. Because you are going to do great things, Charles Leclerc.”

Charles gazes at you tenderly before pulling you in for a kiss. Your lips move together unhurriedly, his hands trailing down your back.

When you finally break apart, breaths mingling, he gives you a mischievous look.

“You know, I never did properly thank you for being my good luck charm today.” His fingers toy with the hem of your shirt.

You bite your lip coyly. “I think the good luck charm wants to properly congratulate her driver on the podium. I want to make you feel good. You more than earned it.”

Charles grins and tugs your shirt up over your head. His lips find your neck as he backs you towards the bed, hands roaming your newly exposed skin.

You fumble with the ties on his sweatpants, shoving them down as the back of your legs hit the plush mattress. He gently lowers you down, hovering over you.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs, eyes dark with want.

You pull him down for another heated kiss, reveling in the feel of his solid weight above you. Your hands grasp at his back, nails digging in slightly to leave crescent marks on his skin.

Charles groans into your mouth at the sensation, pressing his hips down firmly against yours. You can feel his arousal even through the thin fabric still separating you.

Breaking the kiss, you trail your lips along his stubbled jaw to his ear. “I want you so much,” you whisper hotly.

He shudders in response, hands gripping your waist. “Take what you want, mon amour. I’m all yours.”

You slip a hand between your bodies, palming him through his boxers. He hisses in pleasure, bucking into your touch.

“These need to come off. Now,” you demand.

Charles obliges eagerly, stripping the last barrier between you away. You waste no time to wrap your legs around his waist, gasping as he enters you in one smooth motion.

You move together unhurriedly at first, simply reveling in the feeling of being joined so intimately. Charles peppers your face and neck with tender kisses as your hands caress every inch of his back and shoulders you can reach.

As the pleasure builds, your hips pick up speed, chasing release. Charles shifts his angle, hitting that sweet spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

“Just like that! Don’t stop!” You cry out, nails digging into his shoulders again.

He increases his pace, pounding into you relentlessly. You feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you.

“Charles, I’m so close ...” you gasp.

“Let go, mon cœur. Come for me,” he growls breathlessly into your ear.

His words send you tumbling over the edge with a wordless cry. Your vision goes white as intense ecstasy washes over you. Distantly you’re aware of Charles following right after, your name a reverent sigh on his lips.

As you float back down, Charles collapses on top of you. You hold him close, heart threatening to burst from the love and pride swelling within you.

Charles presses his lips to your forehead. “Have I mentioned that you’re the best girlfriend ever? I don’t know what I did to deserve someone as wonderful as you. But I’m so glad you’re here with me through all of this. I love you so much.”

You grin and pull him in for a kiss. “You deserve the world, Charles Leclerc. And I plan on spending every day of our lives proving that to you.”

[momotorin]

no risk, no return

f1 driver!momo x f1 driver! reader au — fluff, angst if you squint

[keji sent a note!]: first of all, i've been in such a writing slump and this fic helped me to get out of it! i'm sorry if it took really long!!! here it is <3 ++ this is a series btw! @saiidahyunie here it is pookie i hope u have a blast reading it 🙏

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for most of her life, momo has only known what it feels like to win. born to one of the wealthiest families in japan, it's like opportunities come falling to her lap even if she didn't ask for it. but, there's one thing she pursued.

it's the thrilling, blazing speed of having to be in closed circuits— going around and around until you're flying, getting ahead of everyone else. it's a lavish, fun, and insanely challenging lifestyle.

momo thinks that she's everlasting in facing every single golden trophy that comes her way, and she'll do anything to take it.

for you, winning was a privilege. it was always something that not only you worked on.

you started racing because your dad enrolled you into a free session, and totally fell in love with karting. many years and sacrifices pass, but still, you're in love with the speed and the feeling of flying on the ground.

every golden medal and trophy is earned by you, the people who helped you and everyone else.

you'd do everything to win, as momo does too.

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on one rainy f2 race, it was either a hit or miss, and one move equates to a life.

“we can't continue this,” momo arugues, standing up.” “spa has been a killer, even when dry. do you want your lives to be at risk?”

you scoffed, “why, afraid to lose your points, hirai?” you looked at her and everyone agreed.

this was racing, and you know there were risks. with the advancement of technology in these fast cars, risks were lessened, and you're now confident that you could still fight. you just can't back down after being so competitive, fighting for the championship. if anything else, why the hell would hirai momo scour away from this?

“look,” momo sighs. “i just want safety. we all know it's not safe-”

you stood up now, looking at her with a fire in your eyes. “then go to the damn back of the grid if you wanna play safe?”

momo steps closer to you, looking at you straight into the eyes. “if you die tomorrow, i don't mind if you're head is flying off because of me. got it?”

you smiled, sinister and scary. “of course, hirai. my head would say hi and fall onto your lap, too.”

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“you guys are so damn funny.” sana laughs after you've woken up from your coma. she's been your number one friend since diapers, and this sport was one of the things she pulled you in with her. sana was the extrovert friend who always said hi to everyone else for you, and you couldn't take her more.

you sighed in defeat as momo was right. after the rise at eau rouge, and a blind spot, even blinder when raining at the turn in radillion; you were too busy that your attention shifted to the upcoming car that wanted to take over your position in that corner, that you missed the turn, and only you came to a huge spin, hitting the wall at almost 250 km/h. it was a miracle that you were still alive.

you know that the person in that upcoming car was pushing you to the limits, rightfully so in this sport, but you hope they know it isn't their fault. if anything, it was yours.

“momo won, by the way.” sana reminds as she fixes your blanket.

you scoffed, “yeah, right, of course she'd win.”

“all of this wouldn't happen if you just,” sana makes her hands into like two lips, making it kiss and showing you a demonstration. “you know…”

“sana,” you whined. “even over my dead body. no. never.”

sana laughed, “you'll eat your words someday, y/n.”

you dismissed as you rolled your eyes, “and i won’t be full of it because i’ll eat none.”

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[breaking] carrera scaglietti’s world champion, hirai momo moves to jyp shinhan racing team for the 2024 season.

your eyebrows creased into the middle of your forehead, your attention shifting away from the data after you've read the news. momo was through and through red, loud, powerful, rich— very much like the italian scaglietti team. why the hell would she choose to go to jyp?

“oh, that's crazy,” hyunnie takes a peek at your phone, very amused at what is happening. “maybe she fought with her teammate?” hyunnie wonders.

“i doubt,” you sarcastically say. there's a high chance that momo had a dispute with her teammate. but you doubt, her teammate was minatozaki sana, she could literally turn anyone her teammate if she wanted to. “but it's momo, so we never know.”

“right,” hyunnie just agrees with the statement, and proceeds reading the data of the wind tunnel for the new car. you two were checking data in the factory for the new season. “don't you think it's a bit stuck up in the middle?” hyunnie points out at the monitor, seeing the air flow ruin the aerodynamics. it was important for the development of the car, and you're glad that hyunnie was reliable to point it out.

after the first stream of the air through the front wing, it doesn't continue to flow the same to the front wheels, making it scattered which results in it being slower.

“soobin!” you call onto your lead engineer loudly, and he comes running with a couple of coffees in hand. “look, it's not going up the wheel,” both you and hyunnie pointed. “that's gonna cost at least a tenth of a second in the straights.”

“yeah, yeah,” soobin kindly hands your coffee and nods. “better front wheel wing, and a smoother air inlet to have a great slipstream.” he suggests, sitting down on his desktop and setting a new creation into reality. “hey, y/n, have you seen the news?”

hyunnie laughs, “trust me, y/n’s the first person who saw it.”

“really,” soobin condescends, still concentrating on his work. “you know, you'd see her a lot this season.”

“i know, don't worry,” you laughed. “i'm ready for it. it'll be a breeze beating her.”

[breaking] f2 champion y/n to gochiya skyline after being offered a 5 year contract.

“i thought she'll be in vantage?” momo sighs under her breath. they were in the middle of a break from a team photoshoot for the new season. momo throws her head back in a deep disappointment that can be felt across the room.

jihyo greets with a smile, both of their helmets in her hand. “what's that, champ?”

“news,” momo blatantly answered, shutting her phone down. “and just news.”

“i think i know,” jihyo says, having that little amused smile on her face. “it's y/n moving to a different team, no?”

momo just nods. she can't believe that this woman knew exactly what she was thinking.

jihyo chuckles, “well, it's nice to know that we have someone on the grid who can put up a fight.”

jihyo’s not wrong. momo dominated the last season, nearly winning all 24 races. 5 were won by her previous teammate, minatozaki sana, and 2 were won by jihyo in jyp shinhan.

well, it was no shocker to her after your coma, you'd make it to f1. as she said to herself, you were a champion, just like her. you fight like hell with your car, and you in this cup isn't any different.

but, in racing, there's only going to be a sole winner, although three people share the podium— there's always the sole, shining golden first place, and she can't give that up for you.

jihyo tapped momo's shoulder as the photographers came and called her. “c’mon, i think they need us back.”

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the next thing you know is that you're already starting the season. after long hours of development in the factory, it's finally set to be used in bahrain. this was nothing like your previous tiers of racing before, and it's something you've only seen from the surface level, but now that you're in it, you can't help but feel a little nervous.

it was a thursday, and the pit lane was full of people from the media. you spot your best friend from just a few meters from you, talking to her old teammate. from that scene alone, you know that momo's reason for leaving the scaglietti isn't a teammate thing.

“hey.” you greet sana as momo leaves to be interviewed by a sports channel.

“you look constipated,” sana holds down your shoulders, looking you in the eye, worried about your state of health. “you okay?”

“it's hot, dude,” you said, panting. “uh, anyw-”

“sana,” you saw momo come back from the interview, and she was already taking sana by the wrist. “let's go.”

“give me a minute,” you dismissed her, your palm outward to let her know that you were still talking to your best friend. “i’ll let you have her after we talk, okay?”

momo yanks at sana's arm in disapproval, making your best friend wince, “no, what the hell-”

sana was already angry at this point, her eyebrows meeting in the middle. “oh, come on!” she sighs. “okay, y/n, what is it.”

you smiled in confidence, “hyunnie invited the whole grid to a party tonight. well, as she calls it a party, but it's not the club type of thing, though. one last before the actual testing, you know, just to get everyone familiar with each other.”

momo stares and scoffs under her breath, “like we aren't tired of each other enough.”

“you have a choice in declining, though!” you smiled at sana, but you said it loudly that momo hears. “and yeah, drinks are on her, sana. you don't have to worry about that.”

“that's nice,” sana smiles. “um, i’ll get going now with grumpy pants number two here. i’ll catch up with you later, hm?”

“yeah, yeah.” you waved at sana, winking at her. “i’ll just text you the location!”

momo fakes gagging on her own spit at your reaction, “gross.”

“nah, you like it,” sana nudges at her as they walk back to their teams. “why the hell do you pretend to hate each other?”

“sana, you know i can’t pretend,” momo sighs. “if you're still convinced that we have some sexual tension going on… maybe you're blind i don't know, get your eyes checked.”

“you can pretend, i’ll give you that.” sana laughs, patting momo on the back. “but you're not too good at lying, are you?”

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the rookies all got on for the media interview for the day, which included you, and chou tzuyu, the newest addition of carrera scaglietti. you two were the newest addition to the grid, and you know tzuyu well that you know she could compete with you.

“um, hello y/n, hello tzuyu,” the reporter flashes a smile to the both of you, anticipating their question. “the grid has made some pretty solid adjustments following the data made from the practices. as two fairly experienced drivers, do you think that you have a shot at winning at least a grand prix for the year?”

“oh, that's,” tzuyu then smiles, finding the question to be quite expectant of their performance. “it's not impossible, but it will be really hard. as you said, the adjustments for the cars are huge. it will be very competitive, and we will race. but you also have to be a little considerate on the part that we've only been to f1 testing at least twice in our f2 careers, and tested just now, so it's a bit of a mix for us getting used to the feel of the car first, then winning.”

“exactly,” you follow. “although i think i've been through more testing than tzuyu, we're now driving in a completely different car from our teams. i don't wanna brag about the experiences that i have, sorry, tzuyu,” you comfortably tap her arm as you slightly bow with your head, showing your apologies for the little arrogant move. “but, it's pretty fair to say that i can and will compete. i can say that our car is competitive, and from the data, it could catch up to last year's scaglietti’s top speed. so, we're definitely putting up a fight.”

“thank you y/n, and thank you tzuyu,” the reporter smiles once more. “can i have a little request from the both of you to say something for the rest of the guys on the grid?”

tzuyu raises her hands in happiness and says, “let's all have some fun!”

“cute,” you cooed, but then, your face went serious afterwards. “there's no turning back for us now. no risk, no return, and i hope you know i'm fighting for the same thing you're fighting for. let's race!”

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the party was a quiet one, with only most of the women in the grid attending. it was held at a small speakeasy at a hotel, and hyunnie rented it all for the night. pretty impressive, as she was, well, quite occupied with your best friend.

you're left to mingle with a couple of guys from the other teams, saying and wishing well that you have a good time, clinking margheritas.

“hey,” mina, another gem from lagonda vantage, smiles as she makes her way to sit beside you on the bar table. “thank god you're here.”

you looked around to spot her teammate, “kazuha didn't come?”

“she's more of a…” mina then takes a sip of her wine. “couch potato.”

you nodded, understanding the preference of the real rookie, although you know that her teammate was your teammate last few years ago. “well, that's unavoidable,” you laughed, also taking a sip of your own drink. “um, how's everything in vantage?”

“same old, same old green car livery,” mina dismisses. “how's everything at skyline?”

“a whole lot of testing,” you exclaimed and sighed. “a whole lot more than vantage in f2. i'm so shocked to see them make me run a lap just because they read something wrong.”

“you don't get babied there anymore, aww,” mina cooed in sarcasm. “anyways, i know that the car is definitely in deep shit right now for us, so, it's good that you moved there.”

“hey, don't say that,” you deny. “but then, i don't think it's time for me to be a champion yet.”

“it's not you who'd determine that, though, stupid,” mina lightly budges at your arm. “it's the race that does, and you know damn well that you're beating the race even if it means to put a carbon fibre part in your skull.”

“i think everyone does,” you sigh, looking blankly at your drink. “we're not here for a good time. we're here simply to win.”

“jesus,” mina scoffed. “look, i'm doing all of these as a hobby. i’ve only seen a few people be like this with racing, and there's only two of them. you and momo. always talking about the same shit— i'm here to win. you think the same even if you don't get along and that kinda scares me.”

“what…?” you then stared blankly at her as she just nodded at affirmation.

“can i get a sazerac, please? and can you please add a little bit more of the lemon zest? thank you!” you heard a familiar voice order from your back, and mina just full on smiled at you.

mina just tapped your shoulder as she stood up with her drink, off to someone else, “there's your answer.”

you looked down at your own drink. it was a sazerac with a little bit more lemon zest. you think it's a good way to lessen the strongness of the bitters and the cognac.

“oh,” momo sighs deeply, knowing that you were beside her. “good evening, y/n.”

trying to be civil and playing it safe? “good evening too, hirai.” you reply with a smile as you take a sip of your drink. you saw the bartender finally completing hers and you watched her take a sip.

“look,” momo looks directly into your eyes— showing you the littlest, slightest scowl, but her ears tell a different story. it was beet red that you were a tiny bit afraid that all her blood was pumping only in that one part of her body. “i'm not trying to be friends, but,” momo sighs deeply, once more. “i hate being in front of newspapers and these people tell me that i have a bad attitude.”

you scoffed and took a sip of your drink, “what does that have to do with me?”

momo deeply sighs, completely facing you now. “you're the new shining thing. you have all the spotlight from all the media people, and you have their eyes, ears— literally everything locked on you the moment you're on track.”

“do i have to repeat that again, hirai?” you then looked at her once more, half scowling at her at this point. “what does that have to do with me?

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momo thought about it until she tucked herself to her hotel bed. she doesn't know anymore.

she doesn't know if she'd feel guilty for treating you badly since that karting race when you were twelve, impeding her advancements to the scaglietti driver program that you rejected, that one overtake in the japan f4 cup, that one crash in f3, and your crash in f2. she has a list in her mind on how she hates and grieves your presence on how she was literally formed because you were beating her.

you sure know how to create warfare in momo's head. she couldn't sleep well that night.

“jesus fucking christ,” you tucked your pillows between both sides of your ear, trying not to hear the noises coming out of your teammate and bestfriend's room. “please stop, my god …”

more sounds came out of the other side, trying to make you uncomfortable in your bed.

the only way is to get out, so you went out of your room, still hearing them in the hallway until you reached the elevator.

you sighed, finally escaping from the noises and you pressed the button to the cool, high place, the top of the hotel. it was nice, windy, and the greenery spread all around, making you calm.

you went and took a rest on one of the padded benches, closing your head eyes but not fully sleeping.

you thought of how momo approached you, surprisingly a little friendlier, like she's really willing for a change. you really were no stranger to change, as you've been recreating and dying for yourself to create another version of you for another day, for other people to fit their needs and preferences.

you think about how adorable momo was when you were younger, karting— her hair held up by sanrio hair clips before she gets on her helmet, and she stomps after getting at the podium for a second place. you know she absolutely hates losing, but that's exactly why she hates you. you're the reminder of her loss, her guilt, and her dissatisfaction in everything.

you sighed as you took a look at the countless stars of the night sky, wishing that you two just grew together normally. like how you and sana did. momo was a constant in every step of your career too, she did well with sana, but how come that she didn't even spare her meaningful conversations with you? how come she can't share her victories with you? how come she didn't want to be in the same space with you yet continued to reach for her dream?

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the next day was qualifying day, and you got up extra early. you savoured on your iced latte while reading some data gathered from the practices yesterday. then you suggested changes from your highlighted, printed out, tabbed fia rulebook (1, because you're a damn nerd; 2, you don't wanna break the rules; 3, you needed to beat their ass if ever they charge you for something ridiculous. it's better to be safe than sorry.)

the moment you changed into your race suit after a couple of interviews, you saw daehyun already suited up right in front of the garage, talking with her twin sister, dahyun.

“good morning guys,” you said to both of them from behind. they were watching the first few guys try out the track for practice already. “oh, good thing that you are both wearing your suits, or else i would have trouble telling you apart.”

“i'm taller though,” hyunnie mentions. “dahyun's a teeny tiny bit smaller.”

“shut up,” dahyun laughs. “anyways, goodluck to you two today,” dahyun gently pats her sister's shoulder and yours. she looks at you, “especially you, rookie.”

you smiled widely, “thanks.” you watched as dahyun waved goodbye before coming back to her team's garage. the integra team, where dahyun is at, is known for their humility and strength— and you're just so shocked at how dahyun contains all of it.

“how come you two don't fight?” you asked hyunnie as you went inside the garage.

“hm,” hyunnie smiles. “we fight only on track because we're sportspeople. not at home, not at parties, not at the dinner table since we're siblings and friends. the only time we got in a big fight was when dahyun crashed our father's car and drove crazy drunk.”

“people,” you repeat. “yeah…”

“you're blanking out, dude,” daehyun laughs, handing you over your gloves by hitting it playfully on your chest. “you go first, team orders.”

“ah, why,” you whined, removing the case of your helmet. “you go first, i was sleep deprived because of you!”

hyunnies eyes went wider, “what.”

“i’ll tell you later.” you teasingly showed her your tongue out then you put on your blue balaclava to cover your face, then your helmet.

you then went inside the car, and started it with the help of the crew getting your steering wheel. they checked everything from breaks, to temperature, to speed, to limits, to literally everything before they gave you the go signal to be on the track for testing.

a couple of teams had already completed their own session, and you were told that you could be sharing the track with scaglietti as they had 2 more laps left. there was no problem as the pace between this car and scaglietti was impressive, as your race engineer said through the radio that you'd gain a whole second after several laps.

“5 laps for you,” lewis, your amazing race engineer, says on the radio. “5 laps for you, y/n. pace increase in the first lap. pit lane exit cleared.”

“i understand, lewis,” you said at the radio, exiting the pitlane safely, starting your lap. “what's the fastest one here?”

“scaglietti's 1:31:23,” lewis clarifies as you make a turn. “it's set by chou.”

“great,” you chuckled, although lewis couldn't hear that on his end clearly as you were driving through your first sector. “what's my expected fastest?”

“1:29,” he says. “the car can push up to 1:29, y/n.”

“that's on medium tyres, right?” you clarified, as you know that on simulator, the car could run way more than 1:29, and it is on soft tires when you tried it out.

“we tested with kim last night and she said that her best lap time is 1:29 on mediums,” lewis says. “tyre degradation is minimal for the first sector, expect the tyres to be warmer on lap 2.”

you were already at the last turn of the first lap, and you throttle fully on the straight. you were focused in getting that 1:29, but the radio breaks out and says, “hirai from jyp is going to share the track with you for your last two laps,” lewis says. “hirai is going to share the track with you.”

“oh hell no,” you sighed under your breath, not even caring if your voice was heard through the radio or not (you surely hope that it wasn't, since the team records all radio for the duration of the races) “what's jyp’s predicted lap time?”

“1:32 on hards,” lewis clarifies on the radio. “that could be lower though, since it was driven by park on the data they've given.”

“oh,” you descend. “right, okay. i’ll try to make the lap time.”

“push as much as you want,” lewis says. “the car can take it.”

lewis wasn't wrong in any way, the car could take it. it was good and smooth on the corners, even on the hards, but there's a bright blue car, lined up with strips in chrome, flying by your side as you finish the lap.

“1:29:22,” lewis said over the radio once more. “box, box now, y/n. session finished.”

you sigh as you went to the pit lane, returning the car to its original place in your garage now that hyunnie was set to exit. you went out of the car, immediately taking off your helmet and the blue balaclava underneath.

“how’s the laps?” you asked your engineer, watching closely at the current world champion’s car gliding fastly on the track.

“it's as predicted, y/n,” he says. “the simulation did well at the temperature degradation as well, but be careful of the dirty air intake on the second sector during the actual race.”

“okay,” you also watch the car on the screen, it's a live feed from the ones in cable, and you see that momo is doing really well on the straights, gaining much more speed as much as you did (you assume). “how's hyunnie doing?”

“oh, well,” lewis looks at the other data board, and checks on with sebastian, hyunnie’s engineer. “you two are the same on the 1st and 3rd sectors, but kim is getting dirty air intake on the second sector as hirai’s ahead.”

you cursed under your breath, “fuck.” you're fucked. momo was a champion way before you stepped flat out on the pedal and worked your laps around. she's not in any less team than scaglietti, and you might just think that she just took all the talent out of jyp to set a stunning 1:28:12. A whole second in front of you.

that's something momo does. she's always been ahead.

────────────────⋆⋅🏁⋅⋆───────────────

that leads you to a spot on the grid, front row, but it sure is annoying to see that smug face just show on screen as she puts on her helmet for the race. you saw her as you were reviewing the strategy for the race today.

but despite all the anger, you can't deny that momo was an attractive entity. underneath that bright pastel pink and purple helmet was a woman with such a strong will to win. that image of her plunging in the ice bath, only in her compression underwear pops in your head. (you saw it on their social media okay, it's not something to be guilty about.) but you wriggle your head side to side still, brushing off the thought.

a formation lap later, your heart beats a thousand times more, and your throat gets a little stuck as you see the same red lights that indicate the start. this was it. you are so ready to see it.

and finally, “lights out and away we go!”

it felt like you're in the right place, playing the right game as on the first corner, you nearly overtook momo. but she won't let you do that and didn't even break a sweat.

it was safe to say that you're given a little bit of caution since you are a rookie, same thing with tzuyu on fifth, as it was said that she was keeping the other positions captive in their states as she was conducting a drs train. pretty impressive defence, but what's more impressive is that momo's on her 17th lap out of 57, and she's not even bothering to box.

better late than sorry, you go to the pit lane to get your overly worn set of soft tires into medium ones, just like what you practised last time and set the fastest lap time.

in the 52nd lap of the race, you and momo were chasing each other, quite literally, as she was going wheel to wheel with you. it has been going on for a few couple of laps already, and momo's worried that if the cars could talk, they'd already be best friends.

“let her pass,” lewis commanded over the radio. “just a teeny tiny bit, y/n.”

you just hummed and braked late on the next turn, making momo purposefully go ahead. you sacrificed a few milliseconds to gain a whole couple of seconds to push the whole car in the straight sections, and approaching that turn in front of momo locked in your chance to be the future world champion for the season.

“fuck,” you hold onto the steering wheel ever so tightly as you turned, just grazing behind momo's tires, going ahead of her. “did i do it?”

“smoked a little but you're in p1,” lewis says. “p1 is secured, go flat out.”

you were handed the mic as you fitted your cap, “how does it feel like to be the first winner of the season?”

“ah,” you smiled. “of course i'm very thankful for the team, to daehyun who kept her place defending, and for lewis keeping me in check for the whole race. thank you for the gochiya skyline team for guiding me on this journey.”

“that’s such a great thing for you, y/n,” the interviewer complimented. “you had an amazing drive from the last laps that you encountered on the track. it was a genius and smart race. what more could we expect from you in the future?”

“some more great racing,” you chuckled. “and some more wins, maybe even a championship if the races let me.”

momo, on the other side, tried to put on a face— one that smiles, but you just know the side of her lip was twitching to frown and launch at you when you went up the podium and received your trophy and medal.

momo couldn't sleep that night.

she hates that she has to see that smug little smile on your face after you knew you won over her, she hates the way you pop the champagne gently, careful to not spray her so hard, and how your hand brushed on hers kindly when you said your little ‘congratulations’ in your soft voice.

she hates that you fill her head ever so dearly like she doesn't feel guilt when she sees you.

────────────────⋆⋅🏁⋅⋆───────────────

“what do you mean you heard us last night?” sana argues, laughing as you two made your way to the hotel elevator going to your floor. you had a couple of drinks with your best friend at the bar, and had a little celebration as well.

“sorry i have ears,” you jokingly plug your ears with your fingers. “you owe me those earplugs. i didn't know that you two were an … item.”

sana laughs. “what, you sincerely thought that i was fucking around with that jimmy choo model i told you?”

“i mean, she's hot,” you commented. “and definitely your type, so, who am i to question. but hyunnie?”

“yeah, why,” sana raised her eyebrow at you, suspecting. “she’s also hot and good at everything, especially in be-”

you rolled your eyes in sarcasm, “oh shut up,” you whined. “i don't need to know that.”

“hyunnie and i were talking about something last night,” sana laughs as you two go out of the elevator as you've reached your floor. “we kinda are still on that ‘y/n and momo would kiss someday’ agenda, but please hear me out,” she sighs, standing in front of you as she knows you'd deem it ridiculous and look at her with your eyes rolled upwards, showing your utter disgust. “we remembered momo literally smoked someone from vantage last year just because she didn't like them. that's why they played the villain card on her in the stupid documentary. but then, the guy's really just ass and mina complained about him too so, point valid…”

you looked at her, grounded her by holding her on her shoulders, “minatozaki, please tell me what you're trying to say.”

“yeah, right,” she then snaps back. “if she really didn't like you, she wouldn't even bother to save face or be civil with you. even though i was all up and cuddly with hyunnie last night, i saw you two. momo has never made a move like that because she doesn't like begging, and you know that too.”

“maybe she's just helping herself, you know,” you chuckled. “it's really not that deep.”

“you're so…” sana hits you lightly. “you've been so empathetic with me but how come you can't see through momo?”

────────────────⋆⋅🏁⋅⋆───────────────

you thought about that for days on end. how come you haven't seen through momo like you did with everyone else?

maybe it's the time, maybe it's the banter, or maybe, you're just too deep in thought when you're facing her. you're even so shocked when you realized just how self conscious you are around momo— you're hyper aware of how you look, if your clothes look decent, or if you smell good. like you're having a little crush.

it was already mid-season. you and momo were alternating from winning races. it was so funny because the fans say that you two give up each other's places so that you could create an alternating pattern, but that isn't really the case.

“ah, i'm really going crazy,” you sighed, finally taking a hit with your golf club after contemplating. you went out with jeongyeon, a fellow racer from the estrella racing team, and her teammate, nayeon. “i mean, you two know i've been doing really well, but i don't know. i can’t sleep and all.”

nayeon straight up laughs after taking a shot as well, the ball flying to the air, back to the ground, “sana was right, you are silly.”

you looked at them, puzzled as jeongyeon laughs with her wife, wrapping an arm around her waist. damn, they were even in sync leaning back as they laughed.

“you're just like her,” nayeon points to jeongyeon. “that's what she said exactly to me when she confessed.”

jeongyeon then finally stops throwing a laughing fit and puts a grounding hand on your shoulder, “maybe you two need a moment. like an actual talking moment. there's something to unpack between the two of you.”

you get antsy just thinking of it. maybe it was really something you needed, something you craved, but you just can't bring your mouth to say it.

────────────────⋆⋅🏁⋅⋆───────────────

being in formula 1 isn't just about the racing, of course, it's also a lifestyle. now, you figured it isn't easy to get out of momo's sight. you basically have the same social circle, and every single break between races, there's got to be a time where you parked beside each other, sat close to each other, talked to a common person, got the same drink, and said the same things.

“you act like you can't see me.” momo laughs silently, taking a sip of her drink. it was a night before going off to the race, and surprisingly, you also live at the same compound as her, and you were itching to get a drink. that's why you're at the local bar.

“just didn't want to bother you,” you sighed, getting more comfortable on your barstool as you ordered another drink. “you told me that, right? you don't wanna be bothered.”

“on the race, yes,” she sighs. “what, you wanna race me here too?”

“oh, no,” you laughed, immediately dismissing the idea. “i can’t go home shitfaced. i still need to pack my things.”

“you really are a crammer,” she mentioned. you looked at her, quite puzzled at how she knew about it. “sana told me, you know.”

“what,” you then turned to her, meeting the pool of her deep dark brown eyes that matched her leather jacket. “why?”

“i- um-,” she scratched the back of her nape as you observed the slight tinge of red shading the back of her ear. “visited you, when you crashed.”

“oh,” you uttered, holding your breath under your tongue. “um, well, thank you.”

“no need,” momo chuckles. “i'm the one who needs to thank you.”

you asked, “why?”

“nothing.” she shyly looks away from you once more and takes a drink. “aren't you scared?”

you looked at her, seemingly shocked at the question, “of what?”

“crashing,” she mused. “we're off to belgium and i guess you're quite sca-”

“i am,” you claimed, smiling as you looked at her. “i'm scared that i might do one split second decision that could absolutely ruin the whole race, the whole season again.”

momo turns to you again, “you're not afraid of dying?”

“a little,” you take a sip of your whiskey as you contemplate. “i would be more worried about the people blaming themselves, though. some of them don't know that i'm thick skulled and i want to do everything including the risks,” you said. “that one in spa isn't yours, it never was, so never feel guilty about it now that you've seen me.”

her eyebrows clinched together in the middle of her forehead, and her lips turned into a mocking smirk, “what?”

“you know it,” you return the same smirk at her. “that's why you're trying to be nice, aren't you? that's why you're working your ass off trying to tell me about the weather when we're on track, trying to pair up with me in those silly little games that the marketing team says. momo, you don't need to deny. i don't want you to feel guilty for me.”

“who the hell are you to say that i feel guilty because of you?” she scoffed.

“you reek of it,” you held her wrist, making her look at you. “and i hate to see it. you weren't this cautious with me before, momo. i hate that you have to sacrifice your breaks, your speed, just because you don't want the same thing happening. i want you to fight.”

she catches the lump in her throat and gulps, the rim of her eyes threatening to spill the tears, “i can’t do that anymore.” she removed your hold on her wrist and ran away to the door of the bar.

you then leave several bills on the table, letting the bartender know that you're leaving too, and you chase momo, who was just running a few blocks away.

you then start your car, pulling up and honking the horn as you roll down your window. “hirai!” you called out.

she then stops on her tracks, sitting down at the nearby bench. her eyes were bloodshot in tears, and you immediately came to her, taking her in the car.

you swore under your breath as you pulled out a box of tissues in your glove compartment, handing it to her as you reached out for her seatbelt.

“i'm sorry,” you sighed as you continued to drive, and momo wipes off her tears. “i, um-”

“i know,” she chuckles. “you're guilty too, huh?”

“i guess it's just fair to say that,” you said. “mind telling me?”

“about what?”

“how you've been, since that day.”

“well,” she sighs. “guilty. like by a lot,” she laughs. “i shouldn't have let you. sana wanted to get you away from it but she was that much of a tolerator that she wouldn't mind crashing with you.”

“ah, well,” you paused for a while, greeting a red light as you thought. sana did talk to you about it, but she ended up getting upset with you as well before the race. “we actually fought.”

“oh,” she laughs again. “come to think of it, i should've collided with you during that practice, you know? that was a close call.”

you just nodded, it really was a close call as she was so aggressive with her drive that day.

“there's a lot we need to ponder on.” you sighed, lightening your grip on the steering wheel.

momo then looks at you, “wanna ditch the flight?”

that's how you ended up in momo's flat, playing mario kart and downing a couple cans of beer.

“no fair,” she pouts, seeing the result— it was wario who took the lead, and princess peach for the second. “i had the first place for like… most of the game!”

“it's all fair in mario kart,” you smirked as you stood up and looked at your watch. it was already 1:00am, and your flight to belgium with your team is at 3:00am. “i wish i could stay for longer but look,” you showed her the time on your wrist. “it’s a bit late.”

she then held your wrist, the one with the watch, seemingly not wanting you to leave just yet. “nice watch,” she laughs as she traces her fingers on the cold steel band of it. “it’s not late. come on, i didn't think you were this boring.” she then pulls you down again and hands you the blue nintendo switch remote. “just one more round.”

momo's one more round turned into two, to three, to four, and you didn't seem to mind the time anymore until you're bombarded with calls from your team manager.

“stay the night,” momo smiles as she takes the cans of beer with you to her trash can. “it's late anyway. plus, you won't catch that flight.”

“i know,” you laughed. “i’ll sleep on the couch.”

“no,” she insisted. “my bed is big enough.”

“alright,” you just nodded, as you were also getting caught on with sleep. “do you have like… a spare toothbrush though? i can't go to sleep with my mouth smelling like beer.”

“yeah,” she cackled and led you to her bathroom. “i keep these things if ever someone asks me to hand them over one.” she handed you a dental care set, complete with a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a mouthwash in a small pouch.

“you're unbelievable,” your jaw dropped in just pure shock. you didn't know momo was this much of a girl scout. “you're ready for everything, huh.”

“of course,” she smiled. “just call me if you ever need anything else, hm?”

that night, you learned that: momo's a clean person and everything in her room was organised through and through, she likes to take the right side of the bed, and that she has trouble sleeping.

you've been lying on your side for what it seems like forever, and you don't even know why you can't sleep. you've shared beds with your friends for most of your life, most of them with the impeccable cuddle monster minatozaki sana, which you thought was the final boss when it comes to sharing beds.

but she says, “hey, aren't you asleep yet?”

“no, not yet,” you responded, still laying on your side. “i'm thinking of a good excuse.”

momo scoffed, “just don't. just tell them you'll book a direct flight to belgium.”

“that's rude.”

“it's not like they're gonna remove you out of the team,” she laughed. “if you really want it to be believable, try to lie. like your dog had an emergency or something.”

“i don't raise a dog on my own,” you then laughed and faced her side, surprised that she was also facing you. “they won't believe me.”

“then, tell them that you're with me.” she says.

“they're not going to believe that,” you grinned. “plus, i don't think that they'd take that as valid, you know.”

“then, what is?”

“i’d probably just tell them that i got something else to do.”

momo chuckles, “like what?”

“nintendo,” you laughed. “i mean, that's a valid enough reason, right?”

that's how you ended up with your limbs and arms tangled with momo's body.

you come to your senses as you feel a warm breath fanning your neck, and you slowly open your eyes into the morning light. you checked on your watch, surprisingly still there on your wrist, and it shocked you. it was already 12am.

it was 10:00 am, and yet the current world champion is cuddled up in her bed with you.

momo then grunts, stretching out her arms and legs but still keeping ahold of you by your wrist, and she opens her eyes, immediately dropping your hand and her hold.

“good morning?” you smiled.

“good morning,” she forces a smile back, immediately sitting down in nervousness? embarrassment? excitement? honestly, she doesn't know. she then clears her throat and asks, “slept well, rookie?”

“yeah, um,” you cleared your throat too and sat up, feeling the mattress beneath you. “you have a good bed.”

“you're lucky,” she stretches. “you're the first one to know that.”

what? “um,” you gulped. “sorry?”

“sana always slept on the couch when she comes over,” she chuckles. “i owe you breakfast, let's go.”

“and a flight,” you corrected and she nodded, making her way to her kitchen. “you'll cook?”

“of course,” she laughs, taking out some thickly sliced bacon, and some eggs. she saw you quite skeptical about her choice of breakfast, “why, would you like something else?”

“uh,” you thought for a little while. sliced bacon and eggs are exactly what you needed, but, “do you have some coffee?”

“yep,” she says. “if you'd be of some help, then you could make our coffee.”

you then nodded and she handed you over two mugs, getting ready for coffee as she heats a pan on her stove.

“ah, this is great,” momo says as she looks over her window, drinking her cup of coffee and eating her sandwich. “ever had a breakfast this great?”

“yeah,” you smiled. “in monaco, my hotel was just overviewing the whole city so…”

“i won that one though,” she teased. “how's the dnf?”

“awful,” you joked. “like really, it's my first race there and the engine suddenly fails me. that's pure unluckiness.”

“don't worry,” she comforts. “you'll stick around for a long, long time.”

“i know,” you chuckled. “unless i don't find the spark in it anymore.”

“same,” she then looks at you, bringing her cup of coffee down on her wooden table once more. “who do you think will win the race this week?”

you bat your eyelashes at her, “wanna bet?”

“oh, of course,” she laughs. “i’d bet $100 on you.”

“okay,” you then laughed too. “i’ll bet $200 on you, too.”

she looked at you, puzzled, “why?”

“you didn't say that i couldn't bet on you,” you sighed. “and based on the race status, you're ahead of me by several points, you won last week, then, it's just right for me to nominate you.”

she stretches her hand, “deal?”

and you shook it with yours, “deal.”

────────────────⋆⋅🏁⋅⋆───────────────

“y/n,” daehyun, back at the hotel, looks you in the eyes and sits in front of you. “why the hell did you come with hirai momo, and even riding the same plane as hers? and she even took you to her private pl-”

“yes, i know, but please calm down,” you held her by the shoulders and made her a little grounded so you could talk to her. “we sorted things out,” you sighed. “and it went well. we stayed up all night playing nintendo, so i missed the flight and she let me stay.”

“she let you what?”

you looked at her, puzzled. “let me stay?”

“did you kiss?”

“no,” you dismissed. “that's weird.”

“ah, fuck,” she sighs. “really?”

“yes, really,” you said. “please don't be weird about it. she's trying to really change for the better, you know?”

she smiles and stood up, “yeah, alright, i get it,” she said. “lewis is so pissed with you though, good luck with that.”

hyunnie wasn't lying. your race engineer called you unprofessional the moment you step at the team garage for the day, but you sorted it out by saying you had to attend to something personal. (in this case, the personal was playing nintendo with the current world champion, but you didn't say that part because he didn't ask for it anymore.)

friday came and practices were on. you worried as it was your first race in this car with this weather— surprisingly cold and overly wet. the track was wet, the seat inside of the car was wet, and everything just slid. just like before your crash.

the fear creeps up through your veins, but it doesn't let you not hold onto the wheel. you raced, as promised and as dealt with in your bet with momo. you don't want to lose a couple of hundred dollars because of her.

it rained on the track heavily over the weekend. you successfully finished and secured a pole position for the sunday race, with momo taking place just behind you on the grid in third.

“44 laps, y/n, we're opting for a safe plan a,” lewis says over the radio. “keep your tires guarded and we'll do two stops if needed.”

“okay,” you said. “is the rain expected to worsen during the race?”

“not exactly,” lewis confirmed. “but expect it to seem a little heavier on laps 22 to 34, since the downpour is expected to be harder on those parts.”

“got it,” you said. “careful and fast.” you repeat to yourself until it was lights out.

two things were on your mind during the race: one, is that the rain will get worse and potentially knock people off the track so you're extra careful, and two, why was hirai momo so damn slow?

in lap 29, the rain started pouring harder, but you continued to lead. as expected, the tyres held on for longer as it wasn't that hot nor too slippery, and it feels as if you're just gliding on the ground.

“box, box.” lewis says on the radio, and you immediately put the button ‘okay’ to pit.

you enter the pit lane safely, but you saw a huge spin off just not so far away from the pit exit. it wasn't a crash (thankfully), but it was a spin-off causing drivers to pass by that leading driver.

“who's that?” you asked over the radio as you exited the pit lane safely.

“it was hirai,” lewis updated. “nothing too serious, no calls since she re-entered the track.”

“okay,” you said. your heart skipped a beat the moment you heard her name, but then, you're just glad that she's back on track. “am i still p1?”

“yes,” lewis confirms. “expected to keep p1 till the end of the race.”

you then wondered, “who's behind?”

“hirai,” lewis says over the radio. this is where it starts. “team ordered to switch. watch out for eau rouge.”

“got it.” you confirmed over the radio.

────────────────⋆⋅🏁⋅⋆───────────────

“what the hell, hirai?”

“don't what the hell at me,” she guilty hangs her head down, sitting with her legs apart at the cool down area. you didn't care if the cameras were on you, or if someone just came in, but you were so mad that you couldn't even get yourself to take the ‘1st’ cap on your head. “i was just trying to not cr-”

“please don't do this here,” sana, after successfully overtaking for the third place, mediates the hot headed arguments. “let's just get this done and go home, okay?”

“okay, sorry,” you stepped down from that attitude and fixed your cap on your head. “it's just tha-”

sana interferes as she pushes her pointer finger on your chest, “save it.”

this is the first time you've ever received a trophy where you felt awful. not because you were upset with a fellow driver, but because it feels like a repayment for guilt.

you went back to the hotel with a heavy heart even after celebrating with your team, but you still can't tuck away that feeling— one rooting from the unjustified move from hirai momo, breaking and not taking the chance to fight for the position that you had.

she was about to do an overtake just after the eau rouge, but she didn't even try to fight, causing her breaks to lock up, but she was quick to recover to second place. you think it's entirely stupid, yes, she doesn't want to crash into you, but then she did that without thinking of the other drivers behind her. you knew that there would be a significant lag to recover after locking up, which had you worried about that move.

momo: meet me here

📍tavern solo, stavelot

you: why would i?

momo: free drink?

you: i could buy one myself.

momo: i've got your hundred dollars and an explanation. isn't that enough?

that was the momo you know. never backing out even after saying no. on the way to the bar, it was cold, and your hands were nearly freezing when you saw momo at one of the tables, waiting patiently as she looked outside, two drinks ready on the table.

“hey,” you sighed, taking the seat in front of her. “was i late?”

“no,” she smiles. “i’m sorry,” she says. “i know you wanted to have a good race and i rui-”

“i understand,” you sighed once more, a little deeper as you sipped on the cocktail. “you just wanted us to be safe. i get it.”

“but still,” she refutes. “that's so unsportsmanlike from me.”

“well, yes,” you chuckled. “there's always a next race to catch.”

“i want you to fight even if it makes my head fly to your lap, y/n!” she suddenly screams, shocking you and other people in the pub.

“momo,” you suddenly went and held her by the shoulders to ground her. “i know it's upsetting but,” you said. “do you trust me?”

“um,” she thought for a while. “yeah…?”

“okay, great,” you chuckled. “you have your car with you?”

“no, my hotel's close by.”

“great,” you then held her wrist, dragging her outside of the pub. you were careful and stopped in front of your car, opening the door for her to sit down. “get inside.”

momo's just in shock. she's fine with trusting you, but, she's conflicted. for all she knows, you could've taken a blow on her stomach or something (it's definitely going to be or something) but she also knows that you're a good person.

she intently watched you as you went to the driver's side, carefully sitting and starting the engine. she realizes it wasn't her first time inside this car. you were known to take this car on cargo with the team's. it was a nissan r34 skyline, beautifully detailed in metallic blue (she thinks it's your favorite color), with a twin turbo inline six engine.

“well,” you say, clearing the air a little. momo can't hide the fact that she was tense. “do you need the ac to be a little higher?”

“no,” she hesitated. “actually, yes, please…”

“okay, if this helps you to relieve,” i sighed. “i'm gonna pay a visit to one of my old friends.”

“and…?”

“he owns a karting track,” you laughed, seeing momo sigh in relief. “if you thought i’d kill you, well, i should've done that way, way back.”

“why didn't you?”

“was there a valid reason?” you ridiculously say. “i mean, apart from anything else that we've been through, i don't hold any grudges from that.”

“well, okay,” she chuckled. “why take me there?”

“show me just how much you wanna beat me.”

“why?”

“i just wanna see,” you laughed. “and i told you. never feel guilty for what you've done before. give me all you've got, ‘kay?”

“okay.”

a few minutes (and a few awkward stares and silences) later, you've arrived at your friend's karting track. as expected, there were no other people who were karting as it was already past midnight, just the lights open, and a person with a towel covered on their face.

“mick,” you called out. “mick!”

“oh,” the guy quickly removed the towel, and immediately fixed his hair to look at you, processing what he was seeing. “oh! hey,” he stands, finally getting out of his desk and greets you with a hug. “been a while since i've seen you here. won the race?”

“definitely,” you smiled. “what have you been up to?”

“oh, you know,” he smiles. “someone's got to keep the place’s lights on.” he pointed at the lights of the karting track. he's runs it with his dad, who was also his mentor and a great mentor to other young racers as well.

“no i mean,” you said. “racing gigs.”

“wec, wrc, heck even indycar teams were calling me,” he sighs. “but i don't think i'm ready for that yet.” he confirms, looking to your left. “ms. hirai!” he comes over to shake her hand, happy as he can be. “i'm mick,” he introduced. “part owner of the track and y/n’s friend from vantage!”

“nice to meet you,” momo partly smiles. “you look familiar. have i met you somewhere?”

“oh, right,” he says, remembering the instances where he passes by momo. “we competed together in the junior karting series. i entered the formulas a year after you two though, so i think that's it?"

“oh, that explains why.” momo says, and you nod.

“okay,” you clasped your hands together, bringing the attention to yours. “i told you we'd race, right?”

“yup.” momo nodded.

“then,” you took her wrist again, now walking slowly towards the helmet and suit section. “gear up.”

momo then changes into a fitting racing suit as you do so too, and she puts on a pink helmet, while you put on a red helmet to match the suit.

mick guided you through the controls of the kart (even though you two were very much familiar with it already) as a precaution, and you two started a lap to determine who'd take the lead on the opening.

you were off to a good start, and momo was pushing hard as well, which was predicted. you wanted her to fight and she gave you exactly that.

not only did she lead that opening lap, but after 40 laps, she did dominate the hell out of you in the kart. you didn't think it was a whack, of course, she's still momo— 2 time world champion, three, possibly if she doesn't fuck it up (which is very unlikely, because she's just that good).

“oh, man,” you threw yourself onto the grass of the open spot between the track after your little session, breathing loudly as you sighed, taking the spot beside momo. she hands you over a cold bottle of water. “thanks,” you smiled in comfort, finally feeling the bottle's coldness as you finished the race. “feel better?”

“you bet,” she laughs. “how about you?”

“hm, feeling great,” you smiled, looking up at the stars. it wasn't any different from what you've seen from any part of the world, but it was a great sight to see. “wow…”

momo shot up her eyes to the sky as well, watching the clouds thread through it and the stars shining its familiar light.

“i have a weird question,” you say. “do you think there are other people much crazier than us when it comes to racing?”

“everyone on the track is,” momo laughs. “you just pay attention to the ones who you're really close with in competition.”

“hm, makes sense.” you then turn to her side, admiring her as she looks at the stars.

she turns to you, admiring your eyes and how it slowly droops to match your little pout, “you tired?”

“a bit.”

“rest,” she taps on her shoulder twice. “don't worry, i won't hit you in your sleep or something.”

still, you were suspicious. “you sure?”

she just nodded and pulled you to her side, slowly guiding your head to lean on her.

you laughed and just succumbed at her warmth as you wrapped your arms around her waist comfortably, the peach scent of her shampoo lacing you into a deep, peaceful and fulfilling nap.

[mick-ey schumi sent a photo]

mick: you two look cute…

you: shut it please

mick: you bet i won't

this is louvre worthy

you: ??? shut up

mick: told you, you bet i won't

sana was right

maybe you two should kiss

[youkissedareaderinthedark]

The Day the Music Died

I’m sorry that this is gonna be so angsty, but I used to be in the marvel fandom where the reader died all the time and I love this trend on tiktok so

Summary: The Grid has to say goodbye to their favorite girl

2023 F1 Grid x young!fem!reader

(For the sake of this story, reader is Aston Martin driver alongside Fernando, and Lance is the reserved driver, she can also be American if you want to really fit the song)

It was your favorite kind of race, a few hours away from midnight, and it was pouring rain, meaning the race was going to be more unpredictable and chaotic than usual.

You’ve always loved the rain and the extra risk factor it bought to Formula 1, so when your engineer told you the conditions were going to stay the same for the race, a bright smile took over your face, brighter than your usual one.

Your smile was one of your trademarks on the grid, often being compared to Daniel Ricciardo on the matter. Despite the age gap, you and the Australian were quite close and were like walking rays of sunshine when the two of you were together.

You were closest with the other young drivers the most though, Lando, George, Zhou, Yuki, and your teammate Lance being your closest companions.

You describe the grid as being like in a family, your teammate Fernando was like your grid dad, always looking out for you and defending you when the media felt a little extra vicious. The older men on the grid like uncles, looking out for you but letting you have your fun.

Drivers like Carlos, Charles, Pierre, Max, Esteban, and Alex were like cousins, you messed around with each other but always looking out for the other. Reporters called you “the glue” saying that your youthful spirit had helped bond the drivers as more than just competition.

So it made sense that a lot of drivers were worried when your car went into the barriers during the race.

Sunday started off fine, you had a goodnight sleep, hung out with your PR officer for breakfast and walked into the paddock with a smile on your face.

You greeted other drivers and the co-workers you knew as you worked your way to your garage and into your drivers room, changed into your drivers suit and reviewed your strategy with a few engineers before you had to head into the garage to get into your car.

“Radio check Y/n, radio check” Your engineer came over the radio. “Loud and clear” You replied, the adrenaline and excitement already kicking in as you were given the go-ahead to head onto the track for the formation lap. The mist from the cars around you and your soaked visor limited your vision, but you managed to find your way to your spot on the track. You were starting P5 today and were already anxious to start the race.

The flag was waved, the five red lights came on and off before all 20 cars were accelerating down the track, trying to gain positions early. You held on to P5 throughout the race, trying to defend against Carlos Sainz’ Ferrari behind you and trying to overtake Charles Leclerc’s Ferrari in front of you.

It was Lap 25 when you attempted another overtake on Leclerc, speeding down the straight and trying to gain on him before the corner. Right as you were beginning your turn into the corner, your tires locked up and you headed into the barriers, going too fast for your brakes to properly stop the car.

You felt the impact on the right side of your abdomen first, then your head, then your legs. It was like being compressed into a small box then slammed against a cement wall.

What happened? Why aren’t I on the track? Your vision went dizzy as you tried to remember what happened. I must have locked up, but why does my side hurt so bad?

“Oh no! Big crash on Turn 7, I think that was Y/n L/n’s Aston Martin! That looked bad, might be a red flag if L/n doesn’t show responsiveness” Martin Brundle spoke worriedly, crashes during stormy races were never good.

Just focus on getting out of the car, you told yourself. You wrapped your arms around the halo to try and lift yourself up but the dizziness in your head combined with the immediate pain in your right side made you sit back down. I probably hurt my ribs, you thought. It’s fine, I’ll just wait for the medics.

Brundle was right, the yellow flag was waved first and the cars slowed down, but it soon became clear that the race wasn’t going to continue for a bit. After a few minutes of waiting for you, a red flag was waved and the medical team was sent out.

Black spots danced in your vision as you tried to look around for the marshals. You expected your vision to clear up after a second, but it never did. Your world just became fuzzier and darker.

You started hearing sirens of an ambulance approaching, but your arms felt too heavy to raise in a sign of acknowledgement.

“The safety car and marshals arrive at the scene, still no movement from L/n” Martin’s voice becomes somber but he stays hopeful, of course you were fine, you never get hurt, you’d get out in a moment and everything would be fine.

You couldn’t keep yourself awake for much longer. It’s okay, at least I’m okay, right? Right? You asked yourself that question, expecting to wake up in a couple minutes. You weren’t scared of going unconscious, you’d be okay. But your eyes closed for the last time before you could find an answer and it was over before you even realized it’d begun.

The drivers were still in their cars, wondering what had happened. They knew you had crashed, but they knew you were strong, you’ll walk out of your car and dramatically insist Daniel give you a piggy back ride when you saw him. “You didn’t even hurt your legs!” He’d complain and you’d just shrug and tell him to let you climb on.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the race might not continue for a bit, at least until Y/n L/n is safe and taken off the track” Martin tries to keep the viewers updated as curtains are placed around your car to keep the cameras away from you.

Everyone is getting antsy at this point, your engineer got no radio from you and there is no word from the medics yet. The drivers are calling in every other minute, anxious to hear from you. “Is she okay?” Fernando calls in. “Do we know if Y/n’s alright?” Carlos asks, having seen the crash up close. Daniel even walks into your garage, wanting to see for himself if there was any news on your crash.

As a Formula 1 Medic, Rowan should be prepared to handle any type of crash a driver was in, ranging from a bruise on their stomach to a broken leg, she was trained to handle it. But Rowan had never seen a dying person before, so her hesitation to help her coworker with lifting L/n out of her car was understandable.

Two other medics immediately crowd the girl. Rowan searching for a pulse, one taking off the teen’s helmet, and the third wrestling with the drivers suit, trying to assess the damage that could by covered by the clothing.

“Rowan, have you found a pulse?” One of the other medics who’s rummaging ambulance for supplies asks. Rowan doesn’t want to answer. She doesn’t want to face this. She wants to check her neck, her heart, and her wrist again even though she already did three times. Rowan doesn’t want to be one to tell everyone that Y/n L/n is dead, but Rowan knows better than that, so she removes her hands from the drivers body, hangs her head low, and closes her eyes as if that would stop her tears from falling.

“No pulse. I’ve checked everywhere three times. She’s gone.” The medic’s voice cracks as she says the last sentence, and a silence overcomes the team of safety marshals.

Nobody on the team had ever encountered a death before, so the medical staff was stuck in a mournful silence, letting the rain wash away the tears that threatened to drop from their cheeks.

The head of the team snaps out of it first. “Someone has to radio the Aston Martin garage and tell them” Everyone seems to step away, wanting to avoid being the one to announce the death. There was nothing to worry about though, as Rowan spoke up. “I’ll do it. I’ll make call” No one disagrees, and Rowan’s glad because she felt partly responsible, she should’ve gotten to Y/n quicker, helped her out of the car, told everyone to move quicker.

Rowan’s voice comes over the radio, shaky and somber. “Y/n L/n is dead. She has no pulse.” She pauses as her throat closes up. “We’ll take her to the medical center-“ That’s all the woman can manage before she bursts into tears and started shaking with sobs. Another medics pulls her closer to them, as they give a moment of silence for the driver.

The young medic is only a few years older than the girl who just died, questions herself, “What if I got there faster?” It lingers in her mind.

Gasps. Tears. Hands cover faces and people are pulled into hugs. Dead? Daniel thinks, no, she isn’t dead, Y/n- she can’t- she’s not dead. Before he realizes, he’s saying the words out loud and pressing the radio button before Otmar can stop him. “I- what do you mean she’s dead? She can’t be dead- she can’t be” The Australian has tears running down his face and he’s pulled away by one of the Aston Martin engineers.

Nobody knows what has happened except those in the Aston Martin garage, and nobody will know until 7:00am the next morning, when Y/n L/n’s death is announced by Aston Martin.

It seems like the entire world came together to offer their support. Millions of messages are sent to Y/n’s family and her friends and bouquets of flowers are sent to Y/n’s P.O. Box.

The funeral is held on Friday, family, friends, drivers, and co-workers show up to Y/n’s home town to mourn their beloved driver.

A moment of silence is held at the race three weeks later, nearly every driver cries and everyone that has a helmet has a sticker with your initials on it. Fernando wins for you and points at the sky as he sobs for his teammate that was like his daughter.

The paddock no longer feels the same. There was no longer a green suit to watch as she bounced around, talking to anyone and everyone, keeping a smile on her face through it all. There is something so clearly missing in the Aston Martin videos, no matter how much time passes. Fans rewatch her live streams and interviews because it’s all the comfort they have. You used to call the grid dinner outings “family dinner” but families smile and laugh together, and it takes a while before the grid can do that again.

Y/n L/n goes down in the Formula 1 Hall of Fame as the best female driver that has ever lived, but the whole world wishes she was there to see her induction herself.

The day the music died

So bye-bye Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the levee

But the levee was dry

Them good old boys were drinking whisky and rye

Singing, “This’ll be the day I die”

This will be the day that I die

if you’re confused on how y/n dies, I wrote it as her internal organs got crushes as she crashed straight into the barrier, i know it doesn’t really make sense and it took me me awhile to make this edit but I kinda forgot about it

also, I want to write more f1 fics after this, so if you have any suggestions on what team the reader should be on and what driver the reader should be with lmk 🫶

[nico-di-genova]

For the ask game:

22. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

For Lestappen please! 🙏🏼

Thank you, have a lovely day 🫶🏼

22. "I've seen the way you look at me when you think I don't notice."

Charles has just about had it. Had it with the media who shove microphones in his face and demand to know what happened, why he and Max had ended up tire deep in the gravel. Had it with Pierre making little jokes about Charles and his ‘anger issues’. Had it with the disappointed looks Fred keeps casting his way during debriefs, as the damage to the car is discussed and the cost it will take to fix it. He’s had it with the social media team, the word ‘inchident’, the way his bad English in his teens seem to be one of his longest lasting legacies.

“It’s okay, we can spin this," they say, as if he gives a shit. It was a race. He raced, he saw a gap, he went for it, Max moved, and they both ended up out. It wasn’t anything.

But jesus, if Max gives him another one of those looks, Charles is going to lose every bit of media training he’s ever endured and strangle him right on this stage. In front of God, the cameras and everyone. He clenches his fists in his lap, grinds his teeth, feels his jaw tense. The cameras are probably picking it up, so he schools his expression into bored indifference. A neutral mask, they will know he is unhappy but they will not know it is with the Dutch bastard staring him down from the other end of the couch.

“It was nothing. Just an inchident, right Charles?” Max says, with that edge of ‘I think I’m hilarious, aren’t I?’ that makes Charles want to actually scream.

Instead, he picks up his own mic and laughs, nearly a giggle as he’s been instructed, it plays cuter. Makes him look less like the track menace who rammed into the back of Max’s car on turn sixteen of the Chinese circuit, as he cursed out Max’s speed in the straights over the radio.

“Yes, hah, right. We will, uh, we will do better this weekend.” He hopes he doesn’t sound as strained as he feels, rehearsed, it’s harder to pretend when he can feel the weight of Max’s gaze on him like the full weight of his own car, plus half the rest of the grids just for good measure.

Max grins, wicked little glint in his eye, “Absolutely.” And then he’s spinning the attention away from Charles and back to the Red Bull’s performance in high wind conditions – there’s a tropical storm brewing off the coast and it’s been fucking with the weather. How his team is confident they will be able to pull away from the rest of the grid with enough ease that situations like the last race don’t happen again.

Charles thinks about beating him to death with the microphone in his hands. Not seriously, not in a way he would ever act on, just in a way that would mean he doesn’t have to stare at the back end of a Red Bull wing for another fifty-seven laps.

The rest of media day is fairly uneventful. He knocks out some joint video stuff with Carlos, does a few social media photos and merch signings, and tries to ignore the questions about Max that just seem to keep coming.

Only once does he bite, when someone asks him if he and Max will ever refollow each other on Instagram.

He laughs, “He will have to follow me back first.”

There’s a camera recording his response, grainy iPhone footage that he will definitely see on Twitter later. Good. Let Max see the gauntlet he’s thrown down. Let him see the Ferrari cap Charles had been signing with the easy flick of his wrist and sharpie across the brim. Let him see Charles does not care.

Because he doesn’t.

Why should he?

Except that maybe he does, because when Max shows up at his hotel room that night he can’t help the annoyed sound that escapes him.

“What?”

“What?”

“What?”

“So we’re fine a week ago, but you send me into the gravel and it’s you who gets to play the silent game?”

He’s been ignoring Max’s texts. There had been a lot of them.

“There is no game, I am busy. Meetings. Repairs. You know, the damage to the car.”

“Oh you’re moonlighting as your own mechanic now? Ferrari is that desperate?”

Max is angry, but more than that he’s hurt. Charles can see the flash of it in his eyes and in the tension when he clenches and unclenches his fists at his side.

“You’re-“ Max glances down the hall, at the Aston Martin employee who’s casting them glances.

Charles waves.

Max lowers his voice until only Charles can hear, “You are such a sore loser.”

The sting of it is well aimed, lands right between Charles ribs, pisses him off enough that he drops the act for a minute and tells Max to go fuck himself in Italian before slamming the door in his face.

It’s not that he’s never been called that before, more than he’s never been called it by Max. Somehow that hurts more.

Max wins in Miami. Charles has engine trouble on lap thirty and has to retire by lap thirty-two. The smile that he forces on afterward when he lies through his teeth that ‘it is like this’ hurts more than his pounding head after the DNF in China.

He tries to drown it all out by hiding in his room until his flight the next morning, instead he ends up at Max’s door.

“I hate you,” he says when the man opens it wide enough that Charles can slink past.

His hair is damp, sticking up in spikey points atop his head, and his white shirt is sticking to wet patches of his skin. He smells like ember, or leather, or something distinctly sharp. Charles tries not to think about it.

Instead, he paces tracks into the plush carpet and keeps his eyes glued to the movement of his own feet while the words spew out of him faster than he can stop them. It’s not all in English, spoken so fast he’s sure Max has missed most of it.

“I fucking hate you. You stupid. Moronic. Annoying. Idiot. You and your inchident like I am stupid. Fuck you. That was my race. My line-.”

“Is this about China?”

“Yes,” Charles spits, “Of course it is about China.”

Max crosses his arms. Watches as Charles motions wildly in the air.

“It is about China. And Suzuka. And Melbourne. About every circuit you follow me onto.”

“I follow you onto?”

“Shut up.”

“Interesting perspective.”

“Stop.”

“I didn’t even finish Melbourne.”

“Shut. Up!” He yells, he can’t help it, feels like something in his chest finally snaps and then there is a long silence where neither of them say anything at all. They both stare at each other, like someone took out a gun and shot the other. Charles does not yell. He is polite, kind, he is exceedingly lovely.

He does not yell.

Except that sometimes he does, and right now he would like to just so he could feel the pure release of it. Sometimes he does not want to be fucking kind. But he also does not want to yell at Max, realizes the pointlessness of it all.

“You want to be friends? Still?” Charles asks, because it is Max who had begun this whole dance of repairing whatever shattered thing sat between them from when they were kids. Max who had started texting him asking to play FIFA and paddle, to go running with him, offered his private jet for flights if needed. Giving everything hand over fist to Charles, assumedly because Red Bull had seen how well he listened to team orders, and behaved, and wanted to own him before Ferrari could lock him down again. Charles had played the game, and he’d maybe even become Max’s friend in the process, but there’s still a part of him that is twelve and bitter – bitter that Max has always had the money, the better kart, bitter he can’t seem to catch up no matter how hard he pushes down on the throttle.

“Do you want to be friends?” Max asks, keeping a wary distance from Charles that once would have felt normal but now seems unfamiliar. He looks at Charles like he is a ticking time bomb. Charles hates it. He hates feeling weak.

“I…I don’t know.”

“We don’t have to be, “ Max says, like the thought has not occurred to Charles.

“I know-.”

Max cuts him off like he can hear the growing edge in Charles' voice and wants to avoid alerting the housekeeping staff in the hall to their bickering.

“Then just say that. I won’t text. I’ll leave you alone. Don’t do something you don’t want to do, Charles.”

It is reminiscent of Max telling him choose whatever team he wanted a few months back, telling him to fuck expectation and do something just because he wanted it. Which was ironic coming from the three-time world champion who only wanted to race cars online. Charles chose Ferrari, because there was never realistically a world where he wouldn’t.

The simpleness of it, the way Max is so willing to just let him go, to give up on the bridge they’d slowly been building between them – Charles suddenly hates him all over again. Max Verstappen and his chivalry and his kindness and his brutal honesty because he has no need to lie. It sparks that familiar jealousy in Charles.

Which is maybe why he throws some of Max’s own medicine back at him.

“I have seen the way you look at me,” he blurts out, “When you think I will not notice.”

Max takes a moment to catch-up with the twist in conversation. His eyebrows doing this expressive little dance that Charles almost finds endearing before it settles on hurt shock.

“What?”

“You are not subtle.”

“I don’t-.”

“You’re only nice to me because you think you can fuck me now. That doesn’t make you special Max, that is all anyone wants me for anyway.”

There is a moment where he thinks Max will tell him to get out, a moment where he would go, it is a moment that is quickly lost in the anger that makes itself at home in Max’s eyes. The bridge crumbles, they are twelve and all they want to do is hurt.

“God, how do you see anything over that massive ego of yours, Leclerc.”

“You’re the three time champion, Verstappen. You tell me.”

Max steps closer, Charles steps back, he meets the resistance of the dresser and Max is suddenly there. Chest to chest, the two of them staring each other down with enough vitriol that it would probably put Pierre and Esteban to shame.

“You’re a fucking dick, Charles.” Max growls, “It’s not my fault Ferrari can’t pull their shit together enough to put you in a decent car.”

“Your car is a violation,” Charles spits back, “easy to win when you ignore the rules. Like always.”

They should stop, Charles thinks, knows they’re toeing along the precipice of something. But he’s sick of playing by the rules, so he pushes.

“Cheating is how you win, yes?”

Max's hands fist in the fabric of his shirt and push him further against the dresser before he even has the chance to blink. The furniture digs into his spine, until Charles can’t help the wounded sound that escapes him.

Max wrestles with something inside himself, Charles watches the struggle. He starts to pull away, but Charles grabs him by the hips and keeps him there. Max looks at him with that familiar expression, the one that Charles has been ignoring for months, want and need and longing all wrapped in steely grey that should be cold but might be warmest thing Charles has ever been cast in the light of.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Max says, and Charles feels rage. But it isn’t rage, not at all. It’s want. It’s the same feeling he gets when he’s gaining on Max in a race, hungry with the need to pass, to overtake, to get ahead and taste the clean air for once. It’s what landed them both in the gravel two weeks back.

Charles is smart, calculated when he needs to be, and right now he doesn’t want to play dumb.

“If I want you to hurt me?” he asks, really asks, even if he’s sure he hasn’t read the signs wrong.

Max’s expression does another dance, settles on the same want that Charles is reflecting back at him, “I don’t cheat.” He states.

Charles smiles, and it’s not the PR smile, all pretty for the cameras, it’s the smile of a man who drives on the limit and curses when he still can’t get ahead. “I don’t care. I’m going to beat you one day either way.”

Max wins in Imola, but Charles wins in Monaco.

They stand on the podium as the Monégasque anthem blares and he looks at Charles with pride, longing, reverence.

Charles notices, he always does.

[imaginaryf1shots]

Fan Favourite Moments | Lewis Hamilton

Words count:

Lewis Hamilton x reader

Summery: just some of the fans favourite moments of you and Lewis.

warning: not edited, none

Masterlist

Kissing in the rain

This race week is set in Spa and the weather condition isn’t the best, it’s forecasted to rain a lot as you go through weekend, but at the moment it’s sunny. The sun is up that it makes you think that there’s noway it’ll rain but you’ve been to too many races and places to know that. Mother nature is very indecisive with mood swings so bad you want to know if she’s okay. Anyways Lewis hasn’t done his track walk yet, so he went around looking for you, finishing you in a corner in the garage with Susie, she was telling you about her plans with women in sport and what they’re working on to change their role in the sport.

You looked concentrated, you were so into the conversation he almost felt bad for breaking the conversation, but if you wanted to come with him then now’s the best time to go and take advantage of the weather. You were already dressed in running shoes and sports trousers ready for the walk, you talked about the day before.

“Sorry to interrupt, but (y/n) do you wanna come on a track walk with me?” Lewis asked if you changed his mind, that’ll be okay with him even if he wanted you to come. It’s been a couple weeks since you last saw each other because of schedule conflict.  

“Go,go, we’ll continue talking later.” Susie said straight away waving you off. “We spend most of the time together anyway.”

“Okay, but we’re definitely continuing later.” Waving bye to her, you lace your hands with Lewis, as you leave the garage.

“Here I got you this.” Lewis said and gave you a jacket he had in his other hand, you let go of his hand and he helped you put it on, it’s one of his jackets that were waterproof, but provided warmths. 

“Thanks.” You say with a satisfied smile, Lewis smiled down at you, he found you so cute with you engulfed in his jacket looking cosy and warm. Lacing your hands once again you start your walk down the pitlane and the track. It wasn’t the most athletic walk, you were just walking at a slow pace. You were telling Lewis about how his fans turned you into a grid mum online, gathering all the cute moments you had through the years you’ve been with Lewis. You were very animated as you told him about the memes and what not, even showing him a couple that you saved on your phone. It was over halfway through the track that it started to get gloomy and dark. “So much for the sun.”

“To be fair if we walked faster we would’ve been done by now.” Lewis said looking up at the sky as you walked, the clouds were dark and heavy looking.

“True but I like having those slow walks with you, especially when we haven’t seen each other in a long time.” You pout as you say this, Lewis wraps his arm around your shoulder sideways, and yours goes around his middle.

“I do too, you know some would argue that two weeks aren’t that long of a time to not have seen each other.” Lewis said and you shake your head scoffing. “I’m not saying that, because you know I hate spending a day without seeing you.”

“You know that some wou;d argue that that’s not healthy and that this is attachment issues.” You fire back and Lewis laughs, you fight the smile creeping onto your face. “I’m not saying that, I for one love that, my only complain is that sometimes I can’t sleep when you’re not next to me.”

“And you love your sleep.”

“I love my sleep.” you felt it then the first drop hitting your face making you flinch slightly, looking up, it’s like heavens doors just opened and you’re both wet in seconds, pulling up your hood, Lewis does the same, you could see the pitlane from where you walked. “We should hurry up.”

“Wait for a second.” You were confused, Lewis stopped walking and held your wrist to halt your walking before you faced him, he had his head tilted back, eyes closed, clearly enjoying the rain.

“Lew, you can get sick my love.” You warn him thinking of his health. 

“Just a moment.” He answered, your worry visible on your face but he couldn’t see it with his eyes closed. You take in the peaceful look on his face, and find yourself smiling. This Lewis is your favourite Lewis, the one only you and close friends and family get to see. Slowly you move your arms around his middle pressing yourself against him, but your head was back to look at your boyfriend. Lewis opens his eyes and looks at you, water was running down your hoodie and you both were getting wetter and wetter. However you looked so good to him right now, so carefree and smiley. 

So you can't blame him for not resisting, his hand cups your cheek before he's pulling you in for a kiss. You squeak surprised, Lewis is a very private person and isn't big on PDA, so kissing while there are cameras possibly around is usually a thing when he's winning. You don't hesitate once you get over the shock to kiss him back your hands holding his jacket tighter. The kiss doesn't last long, and it isn't a deep kiss but it was filled with love and passion. It left you warm and tingly, with butterflies in your stomach, how he still gives you butterflies after all those years you'll never know. 

Cameras catch the kiss from the pitlane the long lenses capture the moment between you two. And even though you hate how much cameras are always in your face the pictures from that day you have saved on your phone.(maybe even framed in your Monaco house? 

Training

It really was just a  series of videos he posted to his story.

Story 1. He told his fans that you were going to try and train like him, you could be seen in the background stretching in your gym wear.

Story 2. It was easy, just some cardio, you were all smiley giving the camera thumps up and everything.

Story 3. You move to goblet squats, you’re again doing okay no thumps up but you’re okay.

Story 4. Deadlifts. Of course all the training you’re doing is fitted for your body and your limits, but you don’t really do deadlifts while you’re in the gym. So you’re frowning while LEwis is hyping you up, you managed to do them but sweat is appearing faster and faster now.

Story 5. It starts with you complaining that you can’t even do press ups, much less dumbbell press ups. Yeah… you only managed to do five and Lewis was generous with his counting. 

Story 6. You’re laying on the ground breathing heavily and refusing to move. You glare at Lewis when he tells you what you have to do next. 

Story 7. You’ve given up, sitting on the ground, your back to the wall, knees bent and your water bottle in your hand. Lewis was amused but he praised you for what you’ve done. 

Helmet kiss

You didn’t mean for it to happen, it wasn’t planned really. But you found yourself kissing Lewis’ helmet every time you were at a race from the start of your relationship. After and before every race it just became something that you always did. He’d have his visor up and you could see his eyes in a smile. It was something for the both of you, for you to show Lewis that you’re proud of him, that you’re there for him, even when he didn’t win or wasn’t on a podium you always kissed his helmet or him to be honest, if there were cameras or there weren't any.

Getting pulled in an interview by the reporter

Media days, usually are the days you spend the most time with Lewis on track. All the time between interviews and breaks he had, it gave you enough time, and you were able to stand with the Merc staff behind camera and watch him.

And so here you are, media day after a week off between racing, Lewis was pulled into an interview in pitlane, you were standing off camera watching him with his PR manager.

“We just saw you last week at Milan fashion week,” The interviewer said, just last week you both were in Milan and attended a few shows and walked a couple red carpets together. “Along with your girlfriend y/n, are times like this you spend destressing or just taking time off away from racing”  

“I mean yeah, it’s always fun to spend time away and have a break and it’s something we’re both interested in.” Lewis kept it short and sweet, but the interviewer had other things on her mind.

“You both looked amazing, actually we have y/n here.” She said and the camera turned around and panned to you, you had a startled look on your face for a split second before you smiled and waved to the camera. “Come here y/n, come on.”

Timidly you walked to your boyfriend’s open arm, you wrapped an arm around his waist, while his rested on your back. 

“y/n tell us, you spend so much time on the road with Lewis, what is something that you both like to do that helps you take a break from formula 1?”

“Uh, I don’t know, because once we’re off track we usua;;y just do something fun and don’t think much about formula 1.” You looked at Lewis for confirmation and he gave you a smile of encouragement. “It’s our way of not letting it consume us, and I do a lot of my work on the road as well, so we just have time off around the races and do something we like.” 

“That’s lovely, it’s great to have some stability in each other, lewis?”

“Definitely, having y/n with me gives me a sense of stability, and just having her with me helps me a lot.” You just couldn’t fight the smile on your face hearing his words, because you both sacrificed so much for his job, and if there is ever moments where you’d think maybe it’s too much or you can’t push back any of the things you want in life, you remember how happy you are with him and how sacrificing some things is okay, every relationship has some sacrifices and you’re okay with that. The highs are really good and you’ve managed to go through all the lows together, the support you have for the other is really one of the foundations to your relationship.

Driving

It’s a well known and documented fact that you can drive, and you love driving and that you’re actually a very good driver. But no matter what you’re not a super car driver. Mercedes thought it’ll be good idea to film a video of you driving a car in Silverstone, with Lewis in the passenger seat before you switch. 

You’re not used to being in those kind of things, yes you have sealed with your fair share of paparazi and media but not in a video where you had to be miked up and everything. So you were a little nervous, Lewis saw your eyes as they ran over all the cameras and filming crew, your eyes were the only indication that you were nervous. Walking up to you he smiles, you were dressed in a Mercedes race suit, matching his. Even your helmet was the same as his, he had it made for you. 

“Are you okay?” Lewis asked you, shielding you away from everyone’s view. 

“Yeah, just a little nervous.” You mumbled and pouted as you looked up at your man leaning into him slightly, Lewis pulled you in for a hug.

“It’s okay, the moment you want to end this and not film just tell me and we’ll end it.” Lewis reassured you, he wouldn't want to pressure you into doing anything you didn’t want to do. 

“No, I’m powering through this, nerves never stopped me before.” You winked at him and smiled, you remembered the first time you met Lewis how nervous he made you it almost made it hard to talk to him but you pushed the nerves aside and talked to him and here you are now, so happily in love. 

You got called to start filming, both Lewis and you stood next to each other in front of the camera, as someone introduced you.

“Driving with Lewis is his girlfriend, (y/n) (l/n)!” You smiled and nodded to the camera trying to keep your cool, Lewis placed a comforting hand on your back. “(Y/n) will take a turn driving around the track first before they switch and Lewis will drive.”

“Am I allowed an out lap to get the track?” YOu asked raising a hand, you’ve walked it before with Lewis, but you haven’t drove it.

“Sure.”

With that you got in the driver’s side and LEwis in the passenger. “This is familiar.” You say once you were in, meaning that you almost always drive when it’s the two of you. 

“Let’s go!” Lewis was excited, he wanted to see what you got. You never sped up or drove over the speed limit, so seeing you driving fast is going to be something new to him. 

“You have to give me some tips.” YOu said as you turned on the car and started driving, you were taking it easy not fast and not slow, a happy 80km/h. Lewis then pointed to where you should break where you can speed up. Once you had a lap around the track, your actual lap started. 

Speeding up, you were so focused on the road in front of you. “Break here, here.”

“You go, love.” “Speed up!” “Babe that was amazing.”

You laughed as you slowed down for the end of the lap, Lewis held his palm up and you high fived him. “We should get you a seat at Mercedes.”

“Shut up… this was super fun.” You said unbuckling your seat belt and opened the door before you two switched places. 

“Ready?” 

“Ready.” 

You were not ready, Lewis pressed his foot down on the paddle and off you were.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” For some reason you didn’t expect the car to go that fast. At least not that fast straight away. You clutched the door and the seat tightly your knuckles turned white. Lewis was laughing. “Lewis!”

“Hold tight.” He said before he pulled the handbrake and turned, your body was pushed to the side of the car, making you scream. 

“Lewis, lewis, lewis, babe, please-aaah.” He was showing off, he was, breaking late, accelerating faster, using the car as if he was racing and in his F1 car.

“Okay, okay.” He slowed down for a bit, and you sighed in relief, Lewis looked at you grinning.

“I’m not going to even tell you to look at the road.” You muttered shaking your head, Lewis laughed before pressing his foot down and once again you went flying down the track. 

By the end of the TWO laps, you knew one thing for certain. “This is why I drive us around and not you.” 

Road-trip 

It's a well known fact that Lewis hates driving when he's not racing, He's said it before a million times. So all the cars the both of you own are basically your cars. Lewis is a passenger princess and you absolutely love it. 

Even though you have your own money and make a good living, Lewis loves spoiling you and doing everything in his power to make it so you need nothing, craving some dessert you have in Italy you got it. Saw some bag in the passing and asked him what he thinks about it, you got it. Want to try a new hobby, you got the top of the art supplies. Anywhere you want to just think it and he'll book it straight away. Its not that you can't do all that, he just loves spoiling you, simple as that. And its not to say that you don't spoil him as well, but there's something about driving him around that makes you so happy. 

"Let's go princess." You called out the car, the windows were down, and Lewis was checking that you had everything you needed before you hit the road. The GPS was already set up, your sunglasses were on and you were itching to get going. 

"Haha, just making sure we have everything." Lewis said before he got in the car, he had his glasses on, you both were dressed very casually, you'll be in the car for a while so looks weren't important. "You look so happy." 

You couldn't help the smile on your face as you pulled from the building. "Yeah, you know I've been wanting to do this for a couple years now."

"I'm glad you're happy." Lewis said with a smile. They can now relax after a long season flying and being everywhere, Lewis thoughts its the best time to have a road trip from your home in Monaco to the UK. As much as Lewis hates driving on normal road with normal speeds you love it, this idea has been on your mind for years, so the moment Lewis suggested that you do it you jumped at the chance. 

Driving through France and seeing the country from a different perspective than what the both of you are used to, and just spending time with him away from everyone else for a few days.

The music was on and you both had your windows down and singing softly along to the music. Lewis took a few photos of you, he couldn’t help but wanting to document the trip.

You guys made the 14 hour drive into a three or four day drive, spending afew hours on the road, before staying in a hotel/inn and going around sight-seeing. Both of you were severely underdressed than your usual selves, sporting sunglasses and hats to keep a low profile. Your hard effort did in fact pay off, no one was the wiser, and having a less known name than Lewis everything was booked under your name.

Lewis did post a few things on his insta story, making the fans go crazy. 

The first story he posted was from where you were singing, your hair flying everywhere, and he was hyping you up, the video ended with you both laughing. Both sounding and looking so happy.

The second picture was a selfie of himself enjoying being a passenger prince. He captioned the picture with a best passenger❤️

The second day you posted a picture of Lewis changing one of the tires, followed by a short video showing you in the middle of the countryside, with nothing to be seen around you. Honestly all of the content the fans were fed during the trip was enough to keep them satisfied for a while, before they were starved once again.

Lewishamilton

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Ghost - Oscar Piastri x UnknownDriver! Reader Part 2

Plot: Reader is the first female F1 driver of the century, however no-one knows that as you are a ghost on the grid. You started in 2022, coming in P12 in the championship. You get moved to Red Bull Racing in 2023 with the off year for Sergio Perez.

Credit to yrsonpurpose for the GIF

"Ghost, Radio Check Please" you engineer says as you pull from the pits.

You hadn't got a win yet, of course you'd had many podiums. Some even last year when you were with Alpine, more this year with Red Bull.

You wanted the win, even though it meant showing who you were and that came with a price, you felt ready. You just needed a reason to come forward with it.

However, even with Oscar's assuring words earlier in the day your P15 start because of the way qually went for you didn't feel like a win was applicable.

"Check" you say before driving out of the pits and into P15 behind Sargent and in front of Tsunoda. You really though that today might be the day and it would have been iconic it being your home Grand Prix and all. But it just didn't look possible when you weren't even in the middle sector of the grid.

You released a big breath as the red lights went out, you dived forward taking over Sargent gaining one place. Esteban who was ahead of him, seeing your Red Bull immediately forgot about Stroll ahead of him and starting defending against you.

For the first 14 laps, in your sector there weren't many changes in positions. Up ahead you had no idea what the grid looked like. But nothing much had changed behind you.

It wasn't until you could feel your tires both getting warn out and starting to struggle with the typical UK drizzle that was upon the race.

"Need to pit soon, cars getting harder to manage with the rain" you admit, knowing that the pit crew already probably have the intermediate tires ready for you.

"Pit on the next lap. Max will pit after you" he advises. However as your coming into the pits, you can see that Vertsappens Red Bull is currently there having its tires changed.

"What the fuck is going on?" you ask pulling up behind Max just as he leaves making you pull forward.

"Copy" is all you get and you let out a frustrated sound that was between a yell and a grunt.

Red Bull made up for it with an exceptionally quick stop for you and you got out on the track again. Luckily, others had pitted as well due to the weather conditions, so you came back out in P15.

"Look, I'm sorry about the incident Christian and the strategists are looking into it but there something I got to ask you, because clearly these methods are no longer working!" you hear you engineer say, you ignore him for a split second taking the corner before you throw back your moody reply.

"What?"

"Who runs the world?" he asks and a smirks comes onto your face. Lewis may have hammer time, but boy oh boy...

"Girls, John, Girls run this mother fucker" you shout into the radio before breaking late and overtaking Lance who was the unfortunate soul currently trying to defend from your driving.

You gain further up, Ocon ahead of you.

"Gap to Ocon?" you ask.

"0.3" you hear, you drive up so your behind him, you swerve the tiniest bit right, he does the same making for a accelerated swerve from you to the left and a clean move up to P12. And just like that you started combing through the grid, Hulkenberg, Gasly, Alonso, Albon, Russell, Sainz and Leclerc all got combed through until you were sitting sweetly in P5, Max, Lando, Lewis and Piastri just ahead.

"Lewis and Piastri are ahead. Fighting for P3, if you catch them both by surprise thats a podium. Gap is 1.2 seconds. Increase on Sector 2"

"Copy that" you say, both the McLaren and Mercedes drivers once you get closer to them are dancing around each other slipping in and out of P3.

"Like two ostriches doing a tango up ahead John" you laugh into the radio.

Just as you manage to overtake the two distracted drivers down the small straight John comes back onto the radio.

"Max has damage to his car. He had to come pit and he's currently P9. You can win this, go prove Beyonce right" he says, this was all you needed. You were currently P2, Lando the only driver ahead of you and thanks to the straight a significant gap had been created between you and Lewis and Oscar.

"Distance to Lando"

"2.4 seconds, speed up that Sector 3 now and you've got him. He's on the newer tires but you can get him. Bring it home" he tells you and you go very serious. No thoughts just the track, you catch up to Lando within a lap, fighting with him for P1.

"Max has climbed back, he's P5 and Oscars trying to defend" you engineer says, you didn't currently care about how close Max was to you, just getting that stream on Lando that would get you the overtake.

SKYSPORTS LIVE: David Croft- Can i just say Martin todays race has been one of the best of the season, for some reason we haven't been allowed to aire the radio between Ghost and his engineer but whatever was said... he's had an amazing drive today, going from P15 all the way to P2 and potentially P1 depending how Norris actually ends up defending against him. Its just been tremendous Martin Bundle- Yes its been amazing from Ghost's comeback to, Lewis a 7 time world champ struggling to overtake and defend the current rookie on the grid, to Max Verstappen reporting car issues, to the lack of DNF's we've had here today at Silverstone David Coft- Oh my lord whats this? He's going for the overtake

Lando goes too wide, his wheel clipping against the track edging making you be able to accelerate past as he struggles to re-gain control.

You manage to get a good gap ahead around corners that prove difficult for the McLaren now behind you.

"One lap Ghost, hold" John advizes and you keep driving, the last lap feeling like a cool down, the sweat drenching all around you due to the panic and sheer oomph of the driving conducted today.

SKYSPORTS LIVE: David Croft- AND WITH THAT FOLKS, WE HAVE THE FIRST WIN FROM GHOST WINNER OF THE SILVERSTONE 2023 GRAND PRIX, LANDO NORRIS BEHIND HIM AND OH MY GOSH A LAST MINUTE OVERTAKE FROM HAMILTON MEANING A TRIPLE PODIUM HERE FOR BRITAIN! Martin Bundle- What a day here at Silverstone, and now three brits are on the podium at their home race

You took yourself out the car, handing the wheel to a Red Bull member before pulling yourself with the halo to stand on the front of the car. John and a few other members pull you down to celebrate with them, before you are ushered off to be weighed.

The cool down room was awkward as you could never speak to the people in there, so you would shake hands before excusing yourself. You took the balaclava off, before tucking your hair in and placing your helmet back over your head.

Now it was time for the podium! Your first winning trophy and you couldn't be more excited, nothing could bring down you mood!

Or so you thought.

You went onto the stage, knowing this was the reveal. You and Christian had spoken about it, knowing your first win was inevitable.

"Today has been a historic day at Silverstone. Not only do we have three Brits standing proud on their home podium, we've had one of the biggest comeback of the year today, despite the mistimed pitstops and the weather, he has pulled his first win out of the bag!" an announcer says coming onto the stage.

"Before we go any further Christian Horner would like to say a few words" an announcer admits, Lewis and Lando turn to you excited to finally see the person behind the helmet. Lando had this running joke that you must be obscenely ugly which is why the helmet is kept on because 'Ghost' is intimidated by him and all the other attractive faces present on the grid.

"Hello everyone. Today doesn't just mark historic reasons for the ones just said. Ghost joined us at the end of the 2022 season when we brought them out of their 2 year contract with Alpine, there was ability and promise there that the team didn't want to both miss out on or go to an enemy team and become a menace on the grid. However, Alpine let a few of us at Red Bull in on Ghost's little secret and to say we were excited was an understatement. This year they have proved their worth and i cant wait for their future at Red Bull. That being said, i think its about time i introduce you to Ghost" he says gesturing towards you.

"This is Y/N Y/L/N" he shouts as you take of the helmet displaying your face to the world. Not only could gasps be heard from the drivers right next to you but from the whole crowd not expecting this outcome.

Lando was in a state of shock, he didn't know what would unveil from that helmet but Oscars longtime crush Y/N Y/L/N the sweet Social Media Manager for Ghost was not one of them.

He was confused at how she had managed to pull of this double life, but ultimately was so happy. This was an important day for her, being the first female to ever win a F1 race.

His eyes flicked down to Oscar in the McLaren section as he'd promised to come watch his best friends win, even if he wasn't up there with him. Lando's gaze met his and there were too many emotions upon the usually chill and placid male that he couldn't dechiper what he was feeling.

There was anger, sadness, frustration, betrayal. And he could have sworn, there were a couple of tears brimming the edges. Lewis had you pulled into a hug right now, congratulating you for everything you've achieved up until now, as all of your achievements were bigger and meant more.

As you went to turn to Lando to pull him into a hug, seeing as you guys were friends as yourself, but seeing his gaze fixed on Oscar a feeling of hurt formed in your chest. His gaze locked onto you and the force of his anger and betrayal could have knocked you back.

He ran off into the crowd back towards the paddock, you wanted to go follow but Lando shook his head. As much as this had hurt Oscar, you deserved to enjoy this moment.

But knowing you'd hurt Oscar, you didn't enjoy a single moment.

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