#f1 imagine

[verstappenverse]

All Over You

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Touch has always been your love language, until one overheard conversation makes you question everything. When you start to pull away Max realises just how deeply he’s come to need it.

2.7k words / Masterlist

Max always says you’re like a blanket come to life.

You cling. You cuddle. You drape yourself across him the second the opportunity arises. If Max’s lap is free you claim it without hesitation. If he’s stretched out on the couch, you’re pressed against his side before he even blinks. Your hand finds his thigh during dinner, your fingers sneak into his back pocket when you’re walking together, and every morning, like clockwork, your nose tucks into the curve of his neck.

It’s not something you think about, it’s instinct. It’s how you express the things you sometimes struggle to say. How you offer comfort. How you say I love you.

And for the longest time Max never says a word about it.

He lets you curl up beside him during movie nights. He leans into your touch when you rub lazy circles into the back of his neck while he’s gaming, or when you lace your fingers with his under the table at dinner.

So you think, this is us. You think, this works.

Until one night, when you overhear something you weren’t supposed to.

It’s nothing serious. At least, not really.

You’re padding back from the kitchen with a cup of tea, bare feet muffled by carpet when you hear Max talking on the phone on the balcony. His voice is low, casual. He’s talking to Daniel you think. Laughing at something.

And then you catch it.

“Yeah, you noticed huh? No she’s super touchy, always has been. Like, always on me.”

A beat.

“No, I don’t mind it. It’s just... I’m not really used to it, you know?”

You freeze, feet still against the carpet. The tea sloshes slightly, forgotten in your hands.

He laughs again, easy and relaxed. “She’s like a human magnet. If I’m sitting, she’s sitting on me. I swear sometimes I think she’d climb into my skin if she could.”

Daniel says something you can’t hear. Max chuckles. “No, she’s not annoying. She’s just... really affectionate.”

You don’t stay to hear the rest.

Your fingers tighten around your mug as you quietly retreat, heart a little heavier than before. You curl back into bed without saying a word, staring at the ceiling while your tea goes cold on the nightstand.

You’re not angry. He didn’t say anything cruel. Not really.

But for the first time questions being to lodge in your chest like a thorn... do I touch him too much? Does he just tolerate it because he loves me?

And just like that, something in you begins to shift.

You're still beside him. Still laughing at his jokes, still making him breakfast. You kiss him good morning and smile across the table. From the outside nothing changes, but the little things in all the tiny invisible places, the things that used to come so naturally they stop.

You don’t climb into his lap while he’s watching race replays, don’t tuck your face into the slope of his shoulder like you used to. You don’t slide your hand beneath the hem of his hoodie when you hug him from behind in the kitchen, fingers sneaking against warm skin. You don’t curl into his side when the movie starts, don’t tuck yourself under his arm like you belong there.

Instead you sit beside him on the couch with your legs tucked neatly under you, wrapped up tightly in a blanket like armour. A careful distance. A subtle retreat.

You keep your hands in your lap at dinner. You nod and listen and smile, but your fingers don’t find his thigh. You don’t reach for his hand beneath the table.

You still want to. God, do you want to.

Your whole body aches to reach for him, to run your fingers over his jaw, to smooth back his hair, to trace lazy shapes across his stomach. You miss the warmth of his skin, the steady beat of his heart under your cheek.

You miss being held without thinking twice, but now that you’ve heard him say it out loud, that he’s not used to it, that he’s not like you, you can’t unhear it. It loops in your mind when the silence stretches between you.

Slowly you start to convince yourself you’ve been suffocating him. That maybe the way you love is too much for him. That maybe softness, when it clings like yours does, feels like smothering.

So you pull back, quietly, carefully, and hope he doesn’t notice how much it hurts. Or worse that he does, and lets you do it anyway.

Max doesn’t say anything at first, but after a few days he starts to notice.

A few inches of space on the couch. Your hand not finding his like it usually does. The way you don't crawl into his lap during breakfast, don't lean into his side during movies, don't rest your hand on his leg during long car rides.

At first he tells himself maybe you’re tired from work. Maybe it’s just one of those quiet moods that passes like the weather. He gives you space, the way people are always saying partners should.

But the distance doesn’t fade.

It expands.

One morning he slips behind you in the kitchen to steal a piece of toast. Normally you’d laugh, you’d wrap your arms around his waist and bury your nose in his hoodie, but this time you step aside without touching him.

He frowns, just a quick flicker, then hides it, but his stomach twists violently anyway.

It’s not like Max to spiral. He’s not wired for emotional uncertainty he prefers problems he can fix with strategy, planning, control.

But this?

This isn’t a problem he knows how to solve.

The way you sit on the far end of the couch, legs tucked under you, scrolling on your phone like it’s more comforting than him. You barely brush his arm when you slip into bed at night. When he tries to kiss your neck absentmindedly like he always does you duck away, not unkindly, but enough to make him panic

He tries not to panic, but that’s what this feels like panic.

It gnaws at him over the next couple days. The silence between your fingers and his. The distance that didn’t use to be there. The way you won’t look at him for too long, like he might read too much in your eyes.

Max isn’t good with emotional guessing games. He’s never been the type to bottle things up or pretend everything’s fine when it isn’t. He doesn’t do insecure. He confronts things. Fixes things. Puts it all on the table and makes it make sense.

And Max doesn’t know how to read silence the way he reads telemetry. He doesn’t know how to fix something when he doesn’t know where the break is.

He replays your interactions hunting for the mistake. Did he forget something important? Miss a signal? Are you sick or bored?

Is she pulling away because she’s planning to leave?

The thought stops him in his tracks. His chest aches with it, sharp and sudden. He sits with it, stunned, rubs at his sternum like he can soothe the ache.

You’re still sweet. Still say good luck before he gets into the car. Still text him updates about your day, what podcast you listened to, what ridiculous thing your coworker said. Still fold his shirts when he leaves them in a pile at the foot of the bed. Still laugh at the stupid jokes he makes when he’s overtired. You're still there.

But it’s different. Your body has gone quiet, your touch has gone still. Less warm. Less you.

And Max, who never thought he’d crave something so soft, so intangible starts to feel the absence like a phantom limb, it feels like someone turned off the sun and expects him not to notice. And it terrifies him because he doesn’t know what he did to lose it, or how to ask for it back.

You can feel the ache in your chest growing stronger every day.

You don’t want to stop touching him. You miss touching him. You miss his warmth, the way he instinctively leans into your touch even when he’s focused on something. You miss curling into his lap without thinking, his fingers combing through your hair like it’s second nature.

But now? Every time your hand so much as twitches toward him, doubt rushes in like cold water.

Am I smothering him again? Is this too much? Is this what he meant?

You thought you were just adjusting. Giving him the space you assume he needs. You told yourself it was mature, respectful, kind, but it’s starting to feel less like an adjustment and more like a punishment.

Every second you don’t touch him? It hurts. In tiny, deceptive ways like a thousand paper cuts.

By the end of the next week, you’re sitting on the hotel bed in Jeddah, scrolling through your phone in silence, without reading a word, wrapped in one of his hoodies that still smells like his aftershave. Max pauses when he sees how far you’re sitting from the edge of the mattress. From him.

That’s when he finally speaks.

“Did I do something?”

You blink. “What?”

“You’ve been...” He trails off, eyes searching yours. “Distant.”

You hesitate. “No, I’m just tired.”

He studies your face for a long moment hoping you’ll offer somthing more, but when nothing comes he doesn’t push. Just nods slowly, then climbs into bed beside you.

You don’t cuddle him that night.

You face the other way, pretending to scroll while your chest feels like it’s being wrung out.

Max doesn’t say anything, but you feel the shift, the slight dip of the mattress, the warmth of his body inching closer in the dark, not quite touching. He stops just shy of you, like he wants to reach out but doesn’t know if he’s allowed to, like he’s hoping you’ll turn around and meet him there.

It takes until Sunday night, after the race for everything to crack open.

You’re both back at the hotel. Max steps out of the shower, hair damp and curling slightly at the ends, sweatpants slung low on his hips. You’re perched on the window seat, knees pulled to your chest, phone resting forgotten in your lap as you stare out over Jeddah’s lights.

You think maybe you’ll just go to sleep early. Then Max sits beside you.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just sits close enough to feel the heat off your arm. He’s never been good at this part, the vulnerable bit. The what if it’s in my head bit. The what if I’m asking for something she doesn’t want to give me anymore bit.

The part where he has to name the thing that’s been gnawing at him for weeks. The part where he has to admit he's scared he’s already lost something and just hasn’t caught up to it yet.

He’s spent enough time memorising the way you speak when you're lying. You don’t flinch or fumble. You just get quieter. Softer. Like you’re afraid the truth will hurt more than the silence.

But he needs the truth now, because he’s been tying himself in knots trying to figure it out. Replaying conversations in his head, wondering if he forgot someone’s birthday or crossed a line or said something he shouldn’t have.

And now all he wants is to be close. To be touched. Held. Seen.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, voice low, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.

“Yeah…” you say, trailing off.

And then, when you don’t say anything else, something in your eyes flickers and he just knows.

Max’s heart kicks hard in his chest, the kind of lurch he only gets right before lights out. He swallows, throat dry, like he’s one bad move away from losing something he doesn’t know how to live without.

“I miss you,” he says, voice quiet. “Even when you’re right here.”

You close your eyes. Then you look at him, really look, and something in you gives. Like you’ve been carrying a weight for days and it’s finally too much to hold, too much to hide.

“I heard you,” you say.

His brow furrows. “Heard me?”

“On the phone,” you clarify. “With Daniel. A couple of weeks ago”

Max’s pauses for a second, trying to remember, and then his stomach drops.

“You heard that?”

You nod slowly, eyes still on the window. “You said I’m always on you. That I’m really touchy. That you’re not used to it.”

His expression shifts, jaw tight, eyes suddenly filled with something that looks a lot like guilt.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I wasn’t trying to. But after that...” You pull your sleeves over your hands, voice quieter now. “I started wondering if I’d been overwhelming you. If I was too much—”

“Wait, baby—”

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, force you into something you don’t want.” you rush on. “So I’ve been trying to give you space. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

Max’s heart actually hurts.

He didn’t even realise how it might’ve sounded. He remembers the conversation now, half-distracted, casual, him laughing while Daniel joked about your human magnet tendencies. It hadn’t meant anything to him, just a passing comment… but it had meant everything to you.

“Hey,” he says, reaching for your hand. “Look at me.”

You look up. Max’s brows are drawn together. He looks devastated.

“I swear I never meant that in a bad way,” he says. “I wasn’t complaining. I was just… explaining it. I’ve never been with someone as affectionate as you, it caught me off guard at first sure. But I love it. I love the way you love me.”

A beat. His voice softens.

“When you stopped reaching for me, I didn’t know what to do. I’ve been going crazy wondering why it felt like you were slipping away.”

You bite your lip, blinking quickly. “I thought I was just annoying you, that you were putting up with it because you love me, not because you wanted it.”

His forehead drops to yours, hands sliding to your waist, holding tight. “No. God, no. Baby, it’s the best part of my day. You crawling into my lap, always reaching for me. It makes me feel wanted... like I matter, like I make you feel safe.”

He leans back just slightly, fingers sliding to your jaw, cradling it gently.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “If I made you feel like you were too much. If I made you doubt what we have. That was never what I meant. I hate that I hurt you. I hate that you thought you had to pull away from me just to make me comfortable.”

Your lips part slightly, like you're shocked by the weight of his words.

“I didn’t know what to do,” he admits. “Watching you pull away, thinking maybe I’d done something. I was scared I lost you and didn’t even know when it happened.”

“I wasn’t,” you whisper. “I swear I wasn’t pulling away from you… at least not like that, I just thought I was doing the right thing.”

“I know that now,” he says. “But please don’t stop. Don’t ever stop”

Your arms are around him before he finishes the sentence.

He exhales into your neck, like he’s been holding his breath for days. Pulls you into his lap like he’s afraid you’ll vanish again. His hands spread across your back, and for the first time in a while something in him settles.

You crawl further into his lap like it’s where you belong. Arms around his neck. Fingers threading into his hair. He exhales like someone finally handed him back something precious.

“I missed you,” he murmurs, voice muffled against your skin.

“I’m right here.”

He pulls back, eyes soft. “Don’t stop being you, okay? Promise me.”

You nod. “Promise.”

Later, curled up in bed, you trace lazy lines across his chest with your fingertips.

“You really don’t mind?” you ask sleepily.

“Mind?” he echoes, mouth brushing your forehead. “I crave you.”

You smile into his skin, small and shy.

He kisses your hair again. “You ruined me.”

“Good,” you murmur, already drifting.

You’re here. Wrapped around him, where you belong.

And Max? Max feels like he can finally breathe again.

[jungwnies]

bf moments | max verstappen

୨ৎ : featuring : boyfriend!max x reader ୨ৎ : synopsis : compilation of fluffy boyfriend max moments

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : im so proud of the podium this week !! can't wait to see the rest of the f1 season omfg <3

boyfriend!max who says "you don’t need to thank me" every time he helps, whether it's late night tea or quietly fixing the kitchen light before you even notice it's out.

boyfriend!max who buys two of your favorite snacks because "you always eat mine," even though he'd give you his anyway without hesitation.

boyfriend!max who doesn't post much but keeps a secret folder in his phone full of candid photos of you, most taken when you're laughing or mid-sentence.

boyfriend!max who plays with your fingers while he drives, especially during long quiet night rides with music low and the windows cracked open.

boyfriend!max who acts annoyed when you steal his hoodie but pulls the sleeves over your hands and kisses your head before letting you walk off with it.

boyfriend!max who rests his chin on your shoulder while you're doing something, just watching without saying a word like you're the calm in his world.

boyfriend!max who doesn't say "I miss you" directly but sends you random memes or videos with no context just to start a conversation.

boyfriend!max who always adjusts your seatbelt when you get in the car, even if you've already done it, because it makes him feel like he's taking care of you.

boyfriend!max who hooks his foot around your ankle under the blanket when you're sitting on opposite ends of the couch, like he always needs a point of contact.

boyfriend!max who listens to you vent without interrupting, then hands you a snack and says "wanna play FIFA?" so you can yell at the screen together instead.

boyfriend!max who slips his race gloves into your bag or leaves a note in your jacket pocket before a trip so you have a piece of him when you're apart.

boyfriend!max who doesn't always find the perfect words but always shows up with your favorite drink, your playlist, and the softest "you alright?" when it matters most.

boyfriend!max who looks for you in the crowd after every race and sends a blurry photo of the grandstand if you're not there, with a simple "felt empty."

boyfriend!max who doesn't need to say much to show he loves you, because every quiet gesture speaks louder than any words ever could.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[cressidagrey]

A Pawfect Coincidence

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Margot Bonheur (Original Character)

Summary:

When Arthur Leclerc loses his brother’s emotionally codependent dachshund, he doesn’t just misplace a dog—he accidentally jumpstarts a full-blown Leclerc family crisis. Luckily, Leo is found by Margot Bonheur: local vet, egg chef extraordinaire, and the girl Charles Leclerc was once devastatingly in love with (and never quite got over).

Warnings and Notes: 

I am feeling so bad about bashing Charles in White Horse that I figured I needed a palate cleanser, so I pulled this out of the purgatory that are my Google Docs.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Arthur Leclerc was not in the habit of losing things.

Not his phone, not his keys, and definitely not his older brother’s ridiculously spoiled dachshund, who was currently - oh, merde—nowhere to be seen.

“Leo?” he called, spinning in a slow circle in the middle of the park, panic tightening his chest.

Ten seconds ago, everything had been fine. The sun was sinking, he’d taken a casual detour through Parc Princesse Antoinette, texting a friend back while Leo sniffed a patch of grass for the fifth time. Arthur had only looked away for a moment. A moment.

And now? No leash. No golden tail. No floppy ears. No dog.

Arthur cursed under his breath, scanning every path and hedge. He jogged toward the playground. Nothing. He doubled back to the fountain, heart rate climbing like he was doing qualifying laps in the rain. Still nothing.

“Leo!” he shouted again, louder this time, drawing a few curious glances from an elderly couple and a kid eating ice cream. “Leo, come on! This isn’t funny!”

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Charles. Of course.

Charles: All good with Leo?

Arthur stared at the screen like it had personally betrayed him.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he shoved the phone back into his pocket, muttering, “I am never going to hear the end of this.”

Because he could already imagine it. Charles’ blank face when Arthur admitted he’d lost the dog. The slow, silent stare of older-sibling disappointment. The inevitable “I asked you for one thing.”

And worst of all—Leo. Leo, who adored Charles more than anyone else in the world, probably off charming some stranger into giving him treats or belly rubs while Arthur had a full-blown anxiety attack in the middle of a public park.

He jogged toward the exit, breath catching. “I swear to God, if I find you eating someone’s sandwich again—”

Nothing.

Just the rustle of leaves. The empty sidewalk. And the slowly dawning realization that Charles’ dog might actually be gone.

Arthur ran a hand through his hair, frustration mixing with guilt in his chest.

He was so dead.

***

Text Messages: Arthur Leclerc & Lorenzo Leclerc

Arthur: I need you to swear on your life you won’t tell Charles.

Lorenzo: ...what did you do.

Arthur: Hypothetically If someone was walking Leo And he maybe slipped his harness And then vanished into thin air How bad would that be?

Lorenzo: Arthur. Where is Leo.

Arthur: THAT’S THE PROBLEM. I DON’T KNOW.

Lorenzo: You LOST Charles’ dog???

Arthur: No!!! I temporarily misplaced him. There’s a difference. (He’s very small and very fast and honestly too independent for his own good.)

Lorenzo: Do you want to die. Is that it. Is this a cry for help.

Arthur: Please. Help me. I can’t tell Charles. He trusted me. He said “don’t let him eat anything off the street.” He didn’t even think to say “don’t lose him” because he believed in me. And now Leo is GONE.

Lorenzo: Where are you?

Arthur: Parc Princesse Antoinette. I’ve done three laps. I checked the bushes. I even bribed a child with gelato to help me look.

Lorenzo: You bribed a child.

Arthur: WITH GELATO. I’M NOT A MONSTER.

Lorenzo: Okay. Breathe. Dogs like routine. Try retracing the walk. Call shelters. And vets. Someone might bring him in to check the chip.

Arthur: Do you think I should fake an injury so Charles pities me before I break the news?

Lorenzo: Try finding the dog first.

Arthur: Right. Right. Operation Find The Sausage is underway.

***

Arthur retraced his steps.

Twice.

He checked every corner of the park, the shaded paths, the trash bins—because Leo had zero shame when it came to half-eaten food. Nothing. No flash of caramel-colored fur, no jingling of a collar, no yappy bark announcing his tiny reign of chaos.

He even tried bribery. Again.

“Leo,” he called, crouching low with the last bite of a croissant he’d bought from the boulangerie around the corner. “If you come back now, I’ll give you the whole thing. No questions asked. No leash. No walk of shame.”

Silence. A pigeon stared at him, unimpressed.

Arthur groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. “You’re not even my dog,” he muttered.

But that wasn’t true, not really. Leo wasn’t his dog, but Charles’ ridiculous little dachshund had somehow made himself part of the entire family. He’d wormed his way into Arthur’s life with stubby legs, sad eyes, and an inexplicable talent for finding the most expensive thing in the apartment to pee on.

Arthur pulled out his phone again, hovering over Charles’ name. His thumb wavered.

Don’t you dare tell him you lost Leo, his brain screamed. He’ll kill you. Or worse—he’ll never let you walk him again.

And he really liked walking Leo. The little guy made strangers smile. Old ladies waved. Children asked to pet him. Once, a girl gave Arthur her number entirely because Leo was wearing a raincoat.

Now he was just a guy pacing a park, sweating through his T-shirt, muttering to himself like he’d lost his mind. Which, fair. He kind of had.

He circled back to the park gate for the third time when a flash of hope struck—a woman with a small dog!—but it wasn’t Leo. Just a fluffy Pomeranian in a pink harness who barked at Arthur like he’d insulted her personally.

��Not helping,” he muttered, stepping aside.

Maybe someone had found Leo. Maybe he was already somewhere safe. Maybe—please, please, please—someone would scan his chip and call Charles.

***

Text Messages: Arthur Leclerc & Lorenzo Leclerc

Arthur: It’s getting dark. I’ve checked the entire park. Twice. Then the neighborhood. Then the park again. Still no Leo.

Lorenzo: You haven’t found him at all?

Arthur: Unless he’s developed the ability to turn invisible—NO. I even asked a guy walking a chihuahua if he’d seen a dachshund. He asked if I was okay. I said no.

Lorenzo: You need to call Charles.

Arthur: No. Absolutely not. I will fake my own death before I tell Charles I lost his dog.

Lorenzo: Arthur. It’s LEO. You lost the love of his life. You think this isn’t going to end up in a group chat?

Arthur: I CAN FIX THIS. I just need a little more time. And maybe a tranquillizer dart.

Lorenzo: For Leo??

Arthur: For me. So I can stop panicking for five seconds.

Lorenzo: Okay. Deep breath. Have you called every vet in a 2km radius?

Arthur: Yes. One of them asked if I was crying.

Lorenzo: You're two hours in, and it’s getting late. If someone found him, they’ve probably taken him somewhere. You need to start thinking damage control.

Arthur: You mean like… buy Charles a new dog?

Lorenzo: Arthur. I will block you.

Arthur: Okay okay okay. I’ll call more vets.

Lorenzo: Good. And maybe prepare a will, just in case.

Arthur: Tell Maman I loved her. Tell Charles it was Arthur Jr.’s fault. That’s what I would’ve named the new dog.

***

Margot didn’t notice him at first.

Her hands were full—reusable bags weighed down with vegetables, pasta, a bottle of wine, and the fancy sheep’s cheese she only bought when she was having a day. The sun had long since disappeared behind the hills, the sky settling into a navy velvet dusk as she trudged home through the winding streets above the port.

She was thinking about the silence of her apartment. The way her keys still felt unfamiliar in the lock. The way everything in her life was still slightly off, like a puzzle someone had forced together with the wrong pieces.

And then she heard it.

A tiny, pitiful sneeze.

Margot turned instinctively, eyes scanning the dim sidewalk—and there, right at the edge of a crumbling stone wall, sat a dachshund. Small. Muddied. Trembling slightly.

“Mon dieu,” she whispered, kneeling immediately and setting her bags down. “What are you doing here?”

The dog blinked at her with glossy brown eyes, ears drooping dramatically, like a tragic Victorian heroine.

“No collar,” she murmured, reaching slowly. “No leash. You’ve clearly been on an adventure.”

The dog didn’t flinch when she touched him. He wagged his tail once. Then sneezed again.

“Okay,” she said softly. “Let’s get you inside.”

She looked around—quiet street, no one calling out a name, no footsteps approaching. Whoever he belonged to, they weren’t nearby.

So Margot scooped him up, balancing him against her chest with one arm while gathering her groceries with the other, and started the climb to her apartment.

Her building wasn’t far. Second floor, no elevator, uneven tile floors that made the dachshund snort when she carried him inside. He shook himself out as soon as she set him down, spraying mud across her hallway rug like he was blessing the space.

“Charming,” she muttered, flicking on the bathroom light. “Alright, monsieur, bath time.”

He did not resist. In fact, he seemed to enjoy the warm water, letting her rinse the grime from his fur, soap away the stickiness from his paws. Margot caught herself smiling as she towel-dried him, wrapping him up like a burrito and murmuring nonsense in a voice she hadn’t used in… well, a long time.

It had been almost three months since she’d moved back to Monaco.

Not a dramatic return—no big announcement, no confetti, just a one-way train ticket from Toulouse and a job offer she hadn’t expected to say yes to.

She hadn’t planned on leaving. She loved Toulouse. The city had been hers in a way Monaco never had—full of light and bustle and purpose. She’d built something there. Friends. A job. A future.

A fiancé.

Her smile faded slightly as she rubbed the dog dry.

It still stung, the way it had ended. The too-calm conversation. The finality of the phrase “I think we want different things.” The way he’d packed up and moved out like they’d been roommates all along, not five years of love and shared groceries and weekend hikes.

Margot hadn’t told anyone the full story—not even her mother. Just said she needed a change. A new pace. A return to familiar streets, even if they no longer felt like home.

The dachshund gave a content sigh, now wrapped in a fresh towel, head resting on her thigh like he’d always belonged there.

Margot looked down at him and exhaled.

“Well,” she murmured. “You’re a good distraction.”

***

Text Messages: Arthur Leclerc & Lorenzo Leclerc

Arthur: He’s still not back. It’s been hours. HOURS. What if someone took him? What if he joined a biker gang?

Lorenzo: Arthur. It’s past midnight.

Arthur: YES I KNOW. THE CLOCK IS MOCKING ME. Do you think I could set up one of those “MISSING DOG” posters?? Like old-school. With tabs and everything. “Answers to: Leo. Probably judging you.”

Lorenzo: I’m going to bed. Unless you are calling emergency services, do not text me again.

Arthur: What if he never comes back. What if I have to look Charles in the eye and say, “Sorry, your dog is now one with the Monaco shadows.”

Lorenzo: Did you eat dinner?

Arthur: I shared half a croissant with a pigeon earlier, does that count?

Lorenzo: No. You’re spiraling.

Arthur: I’m spiraling because Charles is going to MURDER me and use my body as a cautionary tale for Pierre or something.

Lorenzo: Arthur.

Arthur: WHAT IF HE THINKS I DID IT ON PURPOSE. What if he thinks I took Leo to emotionally sabotage him before a race weekend???

Lorenzo: What race weekend?

Arthur: I DON’T KNOW I PANICKED

Lorenzo: Eat something. Drink water. And stop pacing the same square kilometer like a cartoon.

Arthur: ...how did you know I was pacing?

Lorenzo: Because I know you. And because the last time you panicked this hard was when you lost your passport and it was in your pocket.

Arthur: Okay, that was ONE TIME and the pocket was weirdly deep.

Lorenzo: Look. If someone found him, they probably took him home. It’s late. Vets are closed. You’ll get a call in the morning.

Arthur: What if they don’t call? What if Leo decides he likes his new life better? What if he finds someone who gives him bacon without rules?

Lorenzo: Then you’ll be replaced. Which is fair.

Arthur: ...harsh. But valid.

Lorenzo: Go home, Arthur. Sleep. Or at least lie down and stare into the abyss like the rest of us.

Arthur: Fine. But if I die of guilt in the night, tell Charles I tried my best.

Lorenzo: I’ll tell him you wept nobly into a pile of posters with your own phone number misspelled.

Arthur: Okay that’s accurate.

***

Text Messages: Arthur Leclerc & Joris Trouche

Joris: Morning. Charles just asked me if you still have Leo. Can I tell him yes and get back to my already overbooked morning?

Arthur: So… funny story.

Joris: No. Absolutely not. I do not have time for a funny story. You either have the dog or you don’t.

Arthur: I don’t. I lost Leo.

Joris: WHAT. You’re joking. Tell me you’re joking. Tell me this is a Leclerc brother prank. I knew I should’ve never let you all have a group chat.

Arthur: I’m not joking. He slipped out of his harness yesterday afternoon in the park. I’ve been searching all night. I didn’t even go home. I’ve walked more than I did during preseason training.

Joris: ARTHUR.

Arthur: I KNOW.

Joris: DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU’VE DONE??? You lost Leo. LEO.

Arthur: I am aware!!!

Joris: Leo is not just a dog. Leo is Charles’ everything right now. You lost the one source of unconditional love he has left since the breakup. The love of his life. The only thing he’s cared about since the breakup. THE DOG WHO HAS HIS OWN MONOGRAMMED TOWEL.

Arthur: Okay in my defense that towel thing is not normal.

Joris: YOU DON’T GET TO JUDGE THE TOWEL WHEN YOU LOST THE DOG.

Joris: He cried watching a dog food commercial three weeks ago. THREE. Leo is the only thing he trusts. Leo is the only one he lets spoon him when he's sad. You lost the love of his life.

Arthur: I didn’t mean to!! I was texting back and he—he just disappeared. It’s like he melted into the pavement!

Joris: Oh my god. Oh my god.

He trusted you.

He handed over his entire emotional support system and said, “don’t let him eat anything off the street.”

And you said, “Great, I’ll just lose him completely.”

Arthur:

I bribed a child with gelato to help search. I tried. Can we not tell him yet? Maybe someone scanned the chip. Maybe he’s safe somewhere!

Joris: I swear, if we find out someone found him and called the chip number and you just didn’t answer, I am personally putting your name on a “Do Not Trust with Pets” list.

Arthur: That’s fair.

Joris: And if someone does call and Leo is fine, I’m still going to be angry. Just less angry.

Arthur: Okay. Please tell me if he’s okay. And, like. Tell Charles gently?

Joris: Gently?? GENTLY??

Arthur: He likes you.

Joris: So did Leo. AND LOOK WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM.

***

Joris had delivered a lot of difficult news in his tenure as Charles Leclerc’s personal assistant.

Travel mishaps. Press obligations. The time a well-meaning sponsor wanted him to pose with a falcon for reasons no one could adequately explain.

But this?

This was worse.

He found Charles outside the simulator room, still in his race suit from that morning’s promo shoot, looking relaxed in that suspiciously unbothered way that only made Joris more tense.

“Hey,” Charles said, wiping sweat from his brow. “Everything okay?”

Joris took a breath. Then another. He held up a hand before Charles could get a word in.

“I need you to remember that you love your brother.”

Charles froze. “What?”

“Just—just hold that thought in your heart for a second,” Joris continued, voice strained, hands gesturing like he was conducting a symphony of impending doom. “Because the thing is, Arthur was walking Leo. And then… he wasn’t.”

Charles blinked. “What do you mean, wasn’t?”

“Leo ran off,” Joris said, with the grave tone of someone delivering a eulogy. “Arthur looked away for maybe thirty seconds. Boom. Gone. No leash. No collar. Just vibes.”

Charles straightened. “You’re telling me Arthur lost my dog?”

Joris winced. “Arthur was walking him yesterday. In the park. And, uh… Leo slipped his harness.”

Silence.

“He what,” Charles said, very quietly.

“He… bolted. Arthur says it happened fast. He’s been searching all night, didn’t even go home. He’s calling shelters and—”

Charles dropped the knife. “He lost my dog?”

Joris took a careful step back. “Temporarily misplaced.”

“Joris.”

“He ran off yesterday evening,” Joris said, hands up in surrender. “Slipped his harness while Arthur was texting in the park. He’s been searching all night. I got the full unhinged confession this morning.”

Charles looked like someone had just unplugged him. All the light behind his eyes dimmed. “Leo has been gone since yesterday?”

“I didn’t know either,” Joris rushed to say. “Arthur didn’t tell me until an hour ago because he was apparently too busy bribing children and interrogating chihuahuas—don’t ask.”

“He lost Leo,” Charles repeated, voice rising. “He lost the only thing in my life that hasn’t let me down in the last six months.”

And there it was.

Joris had been waiting for the breakup to surface again, quietly lurking under every tired sigh, every too-long pause in conversation. Charles hadn’t spoken about her in weeks, but he also hadn’t not spoken about her. He’d just… poured all of it into Leo. Every bit of softness, every ounce of trust.

And now Leo was gone.

“He’s okay,” Joris said quickly. “Probably. He has a chip. He’s smart. And Arthur’s already filed a report and left his number everywhere.”

Charles sat down heavily on the kitchen stool, one hand running over his face.

“I knew it,” he said hoarsely. “I knew Arthur wasn’t ready. He doesn’t even like mornings. Leo’s entire personality is built around 6:45 a.m.”

“I think he genuinely thought he was doing a good job,” Joris offered. “Like… mostly.”

Charles didn’t respond. Just stared at the floor like it had personally betrayed him.

“He has a monogrammed towel,” he said suddenly, like remembering a lost heirloom. “He sleeps in my bed. He knows how to open the fridge.”

Joris nodded solemnly. “I know. You trained him well.”

“And now he’s alone somewhere. Scared. Probably judging someone else’s cooking.”

There was a long beat. Then Charles’s voice cracked—just a little, just enough.

“I can’t lose him too.”

Joris’s heart ached. He stepped forward, softer this time.

“We’re going to find him. I promise.”

Charles gave a slow nod, silent. His eyes were glassy, and he looked young—too young for the heartbreak in his voice.

***

Group Chat: Leclerc Brothers

(Members: Arthur, Charles and Lorenzo) 

Charles: So. I just spoke to Joris.

Arthur: 🥲

Charles: Tell me that this is some elaborate, deeply stupid prank and Leo is curled up in your apartment right now, wearing his stupid hoodie and judging your coffee table choices.

Arthur: I wish it was. I really, really do. Charles I swear, it happened so fast. I looked away for one second and he was gone. I’ve been searching all night. I didn’t sleep. I filed reports. I called every vet and shelter.

Charles: You lost him yesterday. And didn’t say anything until this morning.

Arthur: I panicked. I thought I could find him before you noticed. Lorenzo told me not to fake a leg injury to get your sympathy, if that helps?

Lorenzo: To be clear, I said that was a bad idea.

Charles: Leo is not just a dog. He’s not a weekend errand or a plant you forget to water. He’s mine. He’s family. He’s the only thing I’ve had that didn’t leave when things got hard.

Arthur: I know. And I’m sorry. Really, truly sorry.

Charles: I trusted you.

Arthur: I didn’t mean to break that. Please believe me.

Lorenzo: He does. He’s just scared right now. We all are.

Charles: If anything happens to him— I don’t know what I’ll do. He’s been the only thing keeping me grounded since everything fell apart.

Arthur: We’re going to find him. I swear it. Even if I have to knock on every door in Monaco and personally interview every dog.

Charles: He knows how to open the fridge, Arthur. You lost a genius.

Lorenzo: Let’s focus. No blame right now. Only action.

Charles: Joris is handling it. Of course. Because Joris always handles what we break.

Arthur: …do I send him flowers?

Charles: Send him a new spine. He probably needs one after carrying our chaos for five years.

Lorenzo: Okay, but seriously—Charles. We will get him back. And when we do, I’m buying that dog a GPS tracker, a backup GPS tracker, and probably a bodyguard.

Arthur: I already picked out a name. Sir Barkalot.

Charles: If I wasn't so emotionally ruined I’d block you.

Arthur: Fair.

Charles: I just want him home.

***

Sunlight streamed through the gauzy curtains, catching on the dust motes in the air and casting soft gold across the hardwood floor. Somewhere outside, a gull screamed at an unreasonable hour, and a scooter rattled down the street, but Margot barely stirred.

She rolled over, blinking sleep from her eyes, the quiet weight of morning settling gently over her shoulders. For a moment, she forgot about everything—about Monaco, about the clinic, about the fact that her life had recently undergone a full-scale emotional implosion.

And then she registered the sound. Not her alarm. Not traffic.

Snuffling.

She squinted down toward the end of the bed.

There, curled up like a smug croissant in the exact center of her duvet, was a caramel coloured dachshund.

Sprawled out on his back, paws in the air, snoring softly, utterly shameless.

Margot groaned, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes. “You did not start the night there.”

The dog gave a lazy tail thump in response but made no move to vacate the space.

“Oh, I see. You’ve claimed the bed. This is your apartment now,” she muttered, sitting up and stretching.

She padded barefoot into the kitchen,and flicked the switch on the coffee machine. As the familiar hum filled the space, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye.

The dog trotted in a moment later, completely at ease, and went straight to the spot in front of the window where the morning sun hit just right. He flopped down with a grunt of satisfaction.

Margot stared at him.

“You’ve been here eight hours,” she said. “Eight. You’ve already decided on a sunbathing spot?”

He blinked at her. Yawned. Rolled onto his side and looked deeply unconcerned about the fact that he’d technically been lost less than a day ago.

She crouched beside him. “You know, if you were a person, this would be deeply invasive. Just showing up in someone’s life, taking a bath, stealing the blanket, and claiming the best corner of the apartment.”

The dog offered her a single, slow blink. Margot sighed.

“…but you’re not a person,” she added, rubbing behind his ears. “You’re a spoiled little drama queen with big eyes and too much charm. No wonder someone’s probably out there crying over you.”

Margot watched him for a moment, her heart doing that soft little squeeze it hadn’t done in a while.

He didn’t seem stressed. Or scared. He wasn’t pacing or barking or trying to claw at the door. He was just… here. Cozy. Safe. Like this was temporary housing on his luxury tour of Monaco.

“Okay,” she murmured, “Let’s see if I have anything fit for a prince.”

She dug through the fridge—cheese, eggs, leftover roast chicken—and eventually settled on plain scrambled eggs. Just a little. No salt. Vet-approved. She plated them onto a saucer.

The dachshund sniffed the offering when she set it down on the kitchen floor, tilted his head like he was evaluating her taste level, then devoured it.

“Right,” Margot said. “A culinary success.”

He licked the plate clean and then followed her back into the living room, where he jumped up onto the couch like he paid rent. He curled into the throw blanket she’d left bunched in the corner, eyes half-lidded, already preparing for nap number three.

Margot leaned against the kitchen counter and watched him with a strange tightness in her chest.

He looked like he belonged there. Too easily. Too naturally. Like he’d decided she passed whatever secret dachshund test he’d run last night and now this was his summer home.

And Margot—who hadn’t expected to feel anything but detached competence and maybe a vague professional curiosity—felt something else entirely.

She felt… lighter.

Not fixed. Not whole. But not quite as adrift.

“I can’t keep you,” she said quietly, to no one and only him. “You definitely have someone. And they’re probably losing their mind.”

The dog, naturally, said nothing.

He simply sighed and closed his eyes, like he had all the time in the world.

Margot stared at him for a long moment.

She hesitated. Then added, “But if not… you can stay a little longer.”

***

The clinic smelled faintly of lavender and disinfectant, the way it always did first thing in the morning—clean, calm, full of potential chaos that hadn’t yet arrived.

Margot pushed through the door with a reusable tote slung over one shoulder, and the dachshund’s head poking around like that was a completely normal mode of transportation for him. 

“Uh-oh,” Céline called from reception, raising an eyebrow as she spotted them. “You’ve brought in backup.”

“Temporary guest,” Margot said, lifting her hand in greeting. “Found him last night. No collar. Took him home so he wouldn’t end up in traffic or under a Vespa.”

“He’s adorable,” Céline said, already standing up to lean over the counter. “What breed is he? Besides ‘absolute heartthrob.’”

“Dachshund,” Margot replied dryly. “Clearly spoiled. Possibly royalty.”

“I mean, look at him,” Céline whispered as Margot lifted the dog onto the floor. He strutted across the waiting room and flopped into a sunbeam like he was taking a press photo.

Within ten minutes, he’d made the rounds of the break room, had a staff member attempt to make him a tiny paper crown from post-it notes, and somehow convinced the vet tech intern to feed him a single piece of chicken from her sandwich.

Margot watched it all happen with an expression of pure disbelief. “He’s been here twenty minutes.”

“He’s got it,” one of the techs whispered. “Like… star power.”

“I think he winked at me,” another muttered.

Margot rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

She finally herded the dachshund into an exam room, gently lifting him onto the table. “Okay, rockstar. Let’s figure out who you are.”

He wagged his tail, smug as ever.

She grabbed the scanner from the wall, swept it slowly over his neck, and waited for the beep.

Beep.

“Good boy,” she said absently, turning to the screen.

The name appeared.

She froze.

LEO — Owner: Charles Leclerc. Contact: +33 —

Margot’s breath caught.

Her fingers hovered above the screen.

No.

No. There was no way.

She read it again.

Charles Leclerc.

She stared at the name, the familiar rhythm of it.

The Charles Leclerc.

As in, Formula One driver. Ferrari. International star.

Of course this was his dog.

Of course this smug, emotionally manipulative, blanket-stealing loaf belonged to him.

To Charles.

As in, the boy she’d kissed under the bleachers behind the tennis courts when she was sixteen. The boy who’d held her hand at the Monaco Grand Prix and whispered that one day, he’d be the one on the podium. The boy she’d cried over for at least three months after they broke up because “life was getting too busy.”

The boy who—apparently—now owned a dachshund named Leo.

“Oh,” she said faintly.

Leo looked up at her and thumped his tail, as if he knew.

Of course he knew.

Because the universe had a twisted sense of humor.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

***

The phone rang just as Joris was mid-scroll through yet another email chain titled “RE: RE: RE: URGENT: Helmet Sponsor Placement Issue.”

He didn’t recognize the number. Monaco area code. That wasn’t unusual—his number was attached to everything from Leo’s microchip registry to Charles’ old tennis club membership.

Still, he hesitated. Then answered, already bracing himself for some kind of insurance call or dog-related ransom demand.

“Bonjour, Joris Trouche speaking.”

There was a pause.

Then: “Hi, um—Joris? It’s Margot. Margot Bonheur.”

Joris blinked.

Margot Bonheur?

He sat up straighter, every neuron in his brain suddenly pinging like a crash at turn one.

“Wait. Margot Margot?”

She gave a slightly breathless laugh. “I… think so? We went to lycée together.”

“Oh my god,” Joris said, stunned. 

There was a short pause. Then a soft voice, low and slightly tentative: “You don’t happen to be missing a dachshund named Leo, do you?”

Joris sat up straight. “You found Leo?”

“Uh, yes. Last night. He sort of… found me, really. He was wandering near Rue Bel Respiro, no collar. I took him home for the night.”

Joris covered the phone’s mouthpiece and mouthed holy shit to the empty office. Then he cleared his throat. “Is he okay?”

“Perfectly fine. He had a bath, has been sleeping, eating scrambled eggs, sunbathing, and judging me silently ever since he woke up.”

Joris huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, that’s him.”

There was a beat of quiet on the line. The kind of silence that stretched just long enough to mean something.

Then Margot said softly, “He’s yours, then?”

Joris’s mouth twitched. “No. He’s Charles’.”

Another pause.

“Ah,” she said. Barely a whisper. “Of course he is.”

Joris leaned back in his chair, gaze flicking toward the ceiling like he might spot the ghost of Monaco high school past hovering above him.

Charles and Margot.

God. He hadn’t thought about that in years. The school hallway hand-holding. The shy smiles.

Margot Bonheur. Margot with the laugh that made Charles forget how to speak in full sentences. Margot who wore oversized cardigans, tied her hair with ribbons, and absolutely ruined Charles for other teenage girls.

Sixteen-year-old Charles, gangly and earnest and completely gone for a girl with curly hair and a laugh that cracked through his walls like sunlight.

Sixteen-year-old Charles, biking all the way across town with a melted chocolate bar in July because he’d heard Margot had a bad day.

Charles, heart-eyed and hopeless, telling Joris at least three times a week, “I think she’s the one, you know?”

And then the silence. The breakup.

Racing had come calling, and Charles—still a boy, really���had chosen speed over stability, pressure over presence. Not because he didn’t love her. Because he did, too much, and thought she deserved better than goodbyes over phone calls and promises he couldn’t keep.

It was the only time Joris had seen Charles cry in a hotel hallway. No cameras. Just him and a cracked iPhone screen with her name still at the top of his pinned messages.

And now?

Now she’d found his dog.

In Monaco.

At a time when Charles was still nursing emotional wounds, pretending he wasn’t sad, and sleeping curled around that ridiculous dachshund like Leo was a weighted blanket for his soul.

Joris stared at the desk.

The universe didn’t send you things like this for no reason.

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat. “He’ll be relieved. He’s been—look, let’s just say the household emotional stability has been tied directly to that dog’s continued existence.”

Margot made a small sound, part sympathetic and part amused. “I figured. He looked very loved.”

“He is. But also? High maintenance. Like his owner.”

Another pause. He could practically hear her raised eyebrow through the line.

“I’ll text you the address,” she said eventually, voice quieter. “I’ll be at the clinic most of the day. You or Charles can come by whenever.”

“Thank you, really,” Joris said. “This means a lot.”

When the call ended, Joris didn’t move for a moment.

Then he stood, walked to Charles’ door, and knocked.

This was going to be interesting.

And if—if—it led to something more?

Well.

He wouldn’t meddle.

Not directly.

But he also wasn’t above “accidentally” scheduling Charles to pick up Leo himself.

***

Charles was halfway through pacing the length of his hotel room for the fourth time when the knock came.

He turned sharply, the pent-up worry already pushing at his chest like pressure before a storm.

“Oui?”

Joris opened the door, face unreadable. “Good news,” he said.

Charles blinked. “You found him?”

“We didn’t,” Joris said. “But someone did.”

The world tilted slightly. His breath caught. “Wait—he’s okay?”

“He’s more than okay,” Joris said. “He was found last night. Someone took him in. He’s safe, healthy, probably being pampered as we speak.”

Charles ran a hand through his hair, barely processing the words. His knees actually went a little weak, and he leaned against the doorframe. “You’re sure?”

Joris nodded. “I spoke to the person directly. They found him near Rue Bel Respiro. No injuries. Fed him scrambled eggs.”

Charles let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a gasp. “He loves scrambled eggs.”

“I know,” Joris said, softer now. “He’s okay. You can breathe again.”

Charles pressed his hand to his chest like he needed to check that his heart was still there. “I thought—I thought maybe he got out of the city. Or worse. I didn’t know what to do, Joris.”

He nodded, too many thoughts tumbling around in his head. Leo. Safe. Leo, who he’d been picturing lying under a car or lost in some alley. Leo, who had become more than just a dog—his anchor, his post-breakup coping mechanism, the one living being who never asked for anything but a lap and a few treats.

His eyes stung. He scrubbed a hand over them.

“I know,” Joris repeated. “It’s handled. You can pick him up when we’re back in Monaco this evening.”

Charles closed his eyes for a second, letting it sink in. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “He’s really okay?”

“Completely,” Joris confirmed. “He’s just waiting for you.”

Charles looked away, blinking hard. “I thought—I kept thinking about the road. Or if someone tried to take him. Or if he was scared and cold—”

“He wasn’t,” Joris said gently. “Apparently, he made himself at home. Shocker.”

Charles let out a weak laugh, finally sitting down. “God. I feel like an idiot. I should have never let Arthur take him out.”

“No argument there,” Joris muttered.

A pause.

Then Joris added, voice casual: “Oh, and maybe don’t wear that hoodie when you go to pick him up.”

Charles frowned. “Why?”

Joris sipped his espresso. “Just a feeling.”

***

Group Chat: Disaster Mitigation Team

 Members: Joris, Lorenzo, Arthur

Joris: Update: Leo is SAFE. Found last night. Someone took him home, gave him a bath, scrambled eggs, and emotionally supported him through what I assume was a dramatic 12 hours. He’s completely fine. A little smug, but fine.

Arthur: OH THANK GOD. I’m not going to be disowned??? I can come out of hiding???

Lorenzo: Where was he?

Joris: Wandering near Rue Bel Respiro. A vet found him. Took him home for the night.

Lorenzo: This is the best news I’ve heard all week. Tell me who found him so I can send them a fruit basket and/or a handwritten apology.

Joris: …you’re going to want to sit down for this.

Arthur: Bro if you say it was someone from Ferrari PR I will actually combust

Joris: It was Margot.

Arthur: ...

Lorenzo: ...

Arthur: As in Margot Bonheur??

Joris: That would be the one.

Lorenzo: As in “Charles’ teenage girlfriend” Margot?

Arthur: As in “the only girl Charles ever wrote poetry for and then immediately denied it” Margot??

Joris: Yes. THAT Margot.

Arthur: NO WAY. Margot who used to make Charles forget how to speak?? Margot who literally ended all his teen crushes after 2012??

Lorenzo: Margot who knew how to shut him up with one look? That Margot?

Arthur: This is cinematic.

Lorenzo: This is fate.

Joris: I’m not saying I’m thinking about matchmaking but …I’m thinking about matchmaking.

Arthur: YES. FINALLY. She was the best of all of them. And she liked us. Remember when she brought cookies to family lunch and Maman asked if we could keep her?

Joris: The very same. Vet now. Back in Monaco. And apparently, Leo has chosen her as his new emotional support human.

Arthur: She was always my favorite. Honestly, best of all his exes. No contest. 10/10. Would support a redemption arc.

Lorenzo: Same.

Joris: I’m not saying I’m plotting anything. But I may have strategically left out her name when I told him he could pick Leo up tonight. Just… letting fate cook a little.

Arthur: Oh my GOD you’re playing the long game. I’m so proud.

Lorenzo: We support this. You have our blessing. 

Arthur: If they get back together, I’m taking credit. Even though I lost Leo in the first place. Especially because of that.

Joris: Focus, gentlemen. Tonight, Charles picks up Leo. From Margot. Let’s just see what happens.

Lorenzo: You want us on standby?

Joris: No interference. No chaos. Let them talk. Let the dog do his work.

 We may be watching the start of something ridiculous.

Arthur: Or something really, really good.

***

The clinic looked ordinary from the outside—white stone, blue shutters, a potted plant wilting just slightly in the sun. The kind of place you wouldn’t look at twice unless you had a limping retriever or a cat with dietary issues.

Charles had passed it before. Years ago. He hadn’t remembered until he stood outside the door, hand hovering over the handle, heart thudding with the kind of nervous energy he usually reserved for a final lap in the wet.

He wasn’t sure why he felt so anxious. Leo was safe. That’s what mattered.

And yet—he couldn’t shake it.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t seen Leo in two days. Maybe it was because this whole week had felt like a slow unraveling. Maybe it was because he’d been forced to confront the terrifying truth that he’d built his emotional stability on a dachshund with judgmental eyebrows.

He pushed open the door.

The bell above chimed.

Inside, it smelled faintly of antiseptic and lavender. Soft music played overhead. The waiting room was empty, save for a sleepy golden retriever stretched out across the floor tiles and an older man flipping through a dog breed calendar like it contained state secrets.

He wasn’t sure why he was nervous.

It was a veterinary clinic, not a press conference. He wasn’t here to face a grid of rivals or answer uncomfortable questions about tyre strategy or heartbreak.

He was just here for Leo.

That should’ve been it.

But his palms were sweating, and there was something tight in his chest he hadn’t been able to shake since the moment Joris said, “She found him last night.”

She.

He hadn’t asked questions. He’d been too focused on the relief of knowing Leo was safe. Alive. Fed. Unbothered.

But now?

Now, something about the quiet warmth of the waiting room made his heart stutter.

“Bonjour,” a receptionist called from behind the desk. “Can I help you?”

Charles pulled off his sunglasses. “I’m here for Leo. Someone brought him in this morning?”

“Oh! Yes, he’s in the back. Quite the charmer you have there, Mr. Leclerc. Margo found him yesterday. He’s still with Dr. Bonheur. She said to send you through.”

Dr. Bonheur.

Charles blinked.

The name hit like a gear shift slamming into place.

No.

He didn’t move right away—just stood there, rooted to the tile floor, as if his body hadn’t caught up with the memory. The receptionist gestured politely to the hallway, but her voice felt distant, muffled.

Margot Bonheur.

The girl who used to tuck daisy stems behind her ears. The girl who gave him her library card because he kept forgetting his. The girl he’d tried so hard not to look up after the breakup, because he knew he wouldn’t like the feeling if he saw her happy without him.

The girl he hadn’t seen in years.

And she’d found Leo?

Of course she had.

Of course it was her.

Because fate didn’t tap you on the shoulder. It threw your dog into the arms of your teenage heartbreak and waited to see what you’d do next.

Charles swallowed hard and walked toward the back hallway, feet moving before his brain could catch up.

The door to the exam room was ajar.

He pushed it open gently.

And there she was.

Margot stood with her back to him, crouched beside a small exam table where Leo sat like an unbothered loaf. She was tying a bandana around his neck—a soft green one that made him look outrageously smug. The same springy curls. The same soft concentration in her movements. She hadn’t changed.

And then she turned.

Their eyes met.

And for a moment, the world tilted.

Margot blinked. “Oh.”

Charles opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

She gave a slow, cautious smile. “Hi, Charles.”

He couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t move.

Memories rushed in uninvited—bike rides and beach afternoons, shared earphones on the school bus, her handwriting on the corner of his notes. And that goodbye. That stupid, quiet, I don’t want to make you choose kind of goodbye.

Charles couldn’t speak.

He was sixteen again, sunburned and awkward and head over heels. He was seventeen and heartbroken. He was eighteen and too busy pretending he didn’t still think about her. And now he was… what, exactly?

Margot didn’t look away.

She stood, slow and steady, wiping her hands on the hem of her white coat, as if grounding herself in the motion. She looked older, yes—but not in a bad way. She looked like someone who’d lived through things and come out steadier for it.

Leo gave a grunt, apparently offended by being forgotten in the middle of his reunion fanfare, and thumped his tail once against the exam table.

That was what broke the silence.

Charles finally let out a shaky laugh, stepping fully into the room. “He looks like he owns the place.”

Margot smiled softly, folding her arms. “He acted like it. Claimed my couch, my blanket, and the best sunspot in the apartment before I’d even finished putting my groceries away.”

“I believe it,” Charles said, crouching beside Leo. The moment he touched the dachshund’s fur, something in him cracked wide open. “I thought I lost him. I thought—”

“I know,” Margot said gently. “I figured someone would be looking. He’s… unforgettable.”

Charles let his hand rest on Leo’s back. “He’s been everything. These last few months… it’s been hard.”

She didn’t press. She never had.

“I’m glad he found you,” he said finally, lifting his eyes to hers. “I mean—really. Thank you.”

Margot looked at him for a long, quiet beat. “I wasn’t expecting you to walk through that door.”

“Me neither.” He stood slowly. “When Joris said someone found him… I didn’t ask who. I should’ve.”

“Would you have come if you had?” she asked, not accusing, just curious.

Charles met her gaze. “Yeah. I would’ve.”

Her lips curved, a little surprised. A little knowing.

There was a silence, comfortable and awkward all at once. The kind of silence that could only exist between two people who used to know each other completely and now didn’t know how to begin again.

“I heard you were back,” he said eventually. “From my mum, I think. Or someone in town.”

Margot nodded. “Three months ago. I’m working here full time.”

“That’s… that’s good.” Charles shifted his weight. “Toulouse wasn’t forever?”

“No,” she said, quiet. “It was good. Until it wasn’t.”

He understood that far too well.

“Well,” she said, patting Leo’s head, “your prince is in one piece. Clean, fed, slightly spoiled.”

“Always has been.” Charles hesitated, then reached into his pocket and pulled out Leo’s leash. “Can I… take him?”

“Of course.” She smiled. “Though he might pout for a while. I think he liked my eggs.”

Charles bent down, clipping the leash onto Leo’s harness as the dachshund made a snuffling noise of vague disapproval. “I can’t believe you cooked for him.”

“I was trying to win him over,” Margot said. “Turns out he’s an easy bribe.”

Charles glanced up, and for the first time, he smiled. Not the tired, strained smile he’d been wearing lately—but something warmer. Real.

“Can I walk you out?” he asked. “Just… for old time’s sake?”

Margot paused.

Then nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

***

Outside, the sunlight hit the street in soft amber as they stepped out together, Leo strutting ahead of them like a celebrity returning from a five-star vacation.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, their footsteps slow and in sync.

“You look well,” she said finally.

“You too,” he answered, and meant it.

Another pause.

“I’m sorry,” Charles said. “For back then. For how I ended things.”

Margot looked over, surprised. “That was a long time ago.”

“Still,” he said. “I never said it. And I should have.”

She looked at him for a moment, expression unreadable. Then: “Thank you.”

They reached the corner. Leo stopped, sniffed a bush like it owed him money, and flopped down dramatically on the warm pavement.

Margot laughed. “You may need to carry him. He’s decided he’s done.”

Charles crouched again, scooping Leo up effortlessly. “You really took care of him.”

“I was glad to,” she said.

Their eyes met again.

“Margot,” he said, quietly. “Would you—maybe sometime—want to catch up properly?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Like dinner?”

“Or coffee,” he said quickly. “Or a walk. Or, I don’t know. Something.”

She tilted her head, considering him. “Are you asking for you, or for Leo?”

Charles gave a sheepish smile. “Both.”

Margot bit back a grin. “Then maybe.”

Charles smiled back, a little stunned. A little hopeful.

And Leo—smug, full, and freshly bathed—closed his eyes in Charles’ arms, perfectly content.

***

Group Chat: Leclercs & Logistics

 Members: Lorenzo, Arthur, Joris, Charles

Arthur:DID YOU GET HIM???? IS HE OKAY?? IS HE MAD AT ME??

Lorenzo: Photos. Now. I need visual confirmation of the sausage prince’s wellbeing.

Joris: Are you still breathing or do we need to send a second emotional support animal to your location?

Charles: Yes, Leo is back. No, I didn’t cry. Yes, I nearly did.

Arthur: Tell him I love him. Also tell him I’m sorry and that I accept any form of punishment he deems fit.

Lorenzo: Start with a restraining order and work from there.

Joris: And how was Margot?

Charles:Yeah—about that. You could’ve warned me, Joris.

Joris: Warned you about what?

Charles: THAT MARGOT FOUND LEO. You let me walk in there unprepared, like it was any other Tuesday! I could’ve had a heart attack! Or worse—said something weird!

Joris: I believe I said, “someone found him.” That is technically true. I just didn’t say who the someone was.

Charles: YOU LEFT OUT CRUCIAL INFORMATION Like the fact that my teenage heartbreak was about to hand me back my dog.

Arthur: Did a breeze catch in her hair at just the right moment? Was Leo smug about it??

Charles: Yes to both. He refused to leave until she said goodbye. And she tied a stupid little green bandana around his neck that somehow makes him look even more entitled. It was… weird. Familiar. Like nothing changed, but everything had.

Lorenzo: So basically: cinematic.

Joris: So… how did it feel seeing her again?

Charles: Like getting the wind knocked out of me and then immediately wrapped in a warm blanket. She was Margot. Still Margot.

Arthur: CHARLES. ARE YOU IN LOVE AGAIN??

Charles: I never really stopped.

Lorenzo: Oh.

Arthur: OH.

Arthur:Did you ask her out?!?!

Joris:Are we preparing for a slow-burn second-chance narrative?!

Charles: I asked if she wanted to catch up sometime. She said maybe.

Arthur: A MAYBE IS A YES IN DENIAL

Lorenzo: A maybe is the foundation of hope. I approve.

Joris: I’m scheduling you both for a casual Leo-themed coffee run in two days. Nothing obvious. We’re letting the tension simmer.

Arthur: You’re terrifying.

Joris: I’m efficient.

Charles: You’re all insane.

Lorenzo: And yet here you are. Smiling at your phone like a lovesick teenager again.

Joris: We’re not rushing this. No chaos. We give them space. Let Leo work his magic.

Arthur: Can I at least put together a playlist??

Charles: You’re all insane.

Joris: Yes. And we love you. Now take that dog home, feed him something outrageously expensive, and start planning your next casual run-in with Monaco’s most emotionally significant veterinarian.

Lorenzo: I’m so proud. 🥹

Arthur: Tell Leo he’s getting a new raincoat. Embroidered. “Wingman of the Year.”

Charles: He deserves it.

***

Margot had no idea why she was nervous.

It was just coffee.

With her ex-boyfriend.

Her first boyfriend. The one who used to blush when their hands brushed and left flowers in her locker with absolutely illegible notes. The one who broke her heart the way only someone young and kind and convinced he was doing the right thing could

 And now… he was sitting at a tiny café table across from her, stirring sugar into his cappuccino like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Like it hadn’t been years.

Like he hadn’t shown up at the clinic two days ago looking like he’d lost his entire world—until Leo launched himself into Charles’ arms, and then everything shifted. Warmth. Relief. Something deeper that still hummed under her skin if she thought about it too long.

“So…” Charles said, glancing up with a shy sort of smile. “I feel like we should start with something safe. Like weather. Or Leo’s digestive schedule.”

Margot snorted into her mug. “It’s Monaco. The weather is always smug. And Leo’s digestive schedule appears to involve manipulating humans into feeding him eggs.”

“I knew that smug face meant he was being spoiled,” Charles muttered, mock-affronted.

She leaned her elbow on the table, chin in her hand. “He was a perfect gentleman. Demanding, slightly judgy, but charming.”

“So basically me at seventeen.”

That made her laugh. “You were never demanding.”

He shrugged, a little sheepish. “Maybe not out loud. But I was kind of... all-in. With you.”

That stilled something in her chest.

She didn’t look away.

“I was too,” she said quietly.

There was a pause—gentle and heavy in equal measure. The little café noise hummed around them: clinking glasses, a scooter rattling by, someone’s dog barking at a pigeon.

Charles cleared his throat, voice softer now. “I’ve thought about reaching out. Before.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He gave her a small, honest smile. “Because I didn’t know if you’d want to hear from me. And… I didn’t know if I was someone you’d be glad to hear from.”

She sat with that for a moment. The honesty of it. The way it didn’t sting, because it wasn’t said to wound.

“I was angry,” she admitted. “Back then. Not because you left. I got it. But because I kept waiting for you to stop choosing everything else first.”

“I thought I was protecting you,” he said. “From the chaos. From me, honestly.”

“I never needed protecting,” she said. “I just wanted honesty.”

Their eyes met. This time, there was something calmer there. Grounded.

“I’m not seventeen anymore,” he said. “I can’t promise I’ll be less chaotic. But I know how to show up now.”

Margot’s lips curved slowly. “Even if I burn the eggs next time?”

He grinned. “Especially then. I feel like Leo would riot otherwise.”

She laughed again, warmth blooming in her chest. “Well. In that case…”

“In that case,” Charles echoed, brushing his fingers against the edge of her mug, just barely, “maybe this doesn’t have to be just coffee.”

Margot looked at him, really looked. And saw not just the boy he was—but the man sitting in front of her now. Tired, maybe. Bruised by life a little. But open. Trying.

And hers, maybe, if she wanted him to be again.

“Maybe it doesn’t,” she said.

And across the city,  snoring on Charles’ couch, Leo Leclerc dreamed smug little dreams of eggs, sunbeams, and the chaos he’d orchestrated to make this happen.

[p1astr81]

Trying to beat best friend lando at the racing sims by sitting on oscars lap so he can do the pedals and him getting hard mid game

so I may have gotten a bit carried away… smut!! you’re responsible for the content you consume!! dom!reader (if you squint), sub!oscar (if you squint), oral (m!receiving), semi public sex

“Ugh! It’s not fair! This is your job!” You complain, having been beaten by Lando for the third time on the sim.

He brought you to the mtc, wanting to give you a tour. You’ve now spent more than an hour racing each other on the development sims.

Lando laughed. “Sorry, I’m just better than you.”

“I can steer. I just can’t get the breaking points right.” You grumble, slumping into the seat with your arms crossed.

“Wanna go again?” He asked.

You thought for a moment. Then an idea popped in your head. You smirked. “Yeah, but I’ll be back.”

Lando expected you to be gone for a couple minutes, not ten. And he certainly didn’t expect to see Oscar trailing in the room behind you.

“Alright what are you up to?” Lando asked impatiently.

Beaming, your eyes drifted from Oscar to Lando. “Your very nice teammate has agreed to help me beat you.” You laid a hand on his bicep.

“He can’t race for you! That’s cheating.”

You frowned. Then, “okay. So he does the pedals and I do the steering.” You shrugged, peering up at Oscar for confirmation.

He blinked, hesitant to agree knowing that would mean you’d be sat on his lap. It was risky. He already had a thing for you. But it also meant you’d be close to him. And it meant making you happy.

So he agreed.

“Perfect!” You cheered and Lando rolled his eyes.

You let Oscar get situated before finding your seat on his lap. “Can you see?” You twisted over your shoulder to ask.

Your faces were too close. Your hair smelt too good. The heat of your body as you back was pressed against his chest was impossible to ignore. He swallowed nervously and nodded.

Try as he might, he realized a couple laps in that his task was going to be very difficult. You squirmed in his lap with every turn you made, leaning with the wheel. He tried so, so hard to tune it out.

Focus on the pedals. Focus on the pedals. Focus on the pedals. He told himself over and over again.

But it didn’t help. The stimulation was too much. He felt his dick get harder and harder with every movement you made. And he could do nothing but wish on the stars above that you couldn’t feel it.

Eventually, he held your hips in place, fearing he’d cum in his jeans if you continued to squirm. “Try not to move so much. You’ll have more control if you stay in one place.” He told you. Not a full lie, but definitely a coverup.

And thank god, you listened.

You lost, again. But not by much. Only by two seconds instead of twenty seconds.

“Hey, we don’t make a bad team.” You laughed, a hand clasped around his bicep. “Yeah.” He laughed, slightly breathless.

When you got off his lap, your ass cruelly brushed against the bulge in his pants. He bit back a gasp, coughing instead. “I’ve got to meet Tom. I’ll see you guys.” He waved, leaving the room as fast as he could.

“Oh,” you frowned. “He forgot his water bottle.” You plucked it from where it sat on the ground next to the sim rig, following him out to the hallway.

He heard you call after him and cursed under his breath. He played it cool, smiling.

The water bottle was held out to him. “You forgot his.” Your face was accented with a mischievous smirk. He took the bottle from your hands, muttering a thanks. “Oh and uhm,” you called again when he started to walk away. You closed the gap again, dropping your voice. “Sorry for that problem I’ve caused you.”

Heat pooled up his neck and colored his face a dark crimson. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to happen. I hope you’re not upset. I just-“

“Don’t worry, it’s natural, isn’t it?” You cut him off, laughing. “But you’ve also got the same affect on me.” You told him, your seductive voice rushing more of his blood down south. You took a step forward. “You know…” you started, taking another step. “I can make up an excuse.” Another step. “Tell him I’m tired.” Step. “Or hungry.” Step. “And you could… take me home.” And step. You were directly in front of him now, almost touching, batting your lashes up at him.

He faced the ceiling, not believing his eyes nor his ears. “Oh, fuck.” He whispered.

You giggled. “If that’s what you want.”

He hesitated, and then, “shouldn’t I take you to dinner first?”

Smiling, you shook your head. “Your mother raised you right, but no, you don’t have to.”

He paused. “But can I?”

Your smiled brightened, and you turned back in the direction of the sim room. “Wait for me!” You called back.

“Hey, I’m kinda hungry and I know you’ve still got something with Zak so Oscar’s just gonna take me home.” You told Lando. He had no reason to suspect anything, not when your smile was so innocent.

He shrugged. “Thats fine. Tell him I said thanks.”

You bit back a laugh. “Will do.”

Oscar’s car was nice, like Lando’s but with cushier seats. “I did it on purpose.” You confessed. His brows shot up, eyes widened. “Well, not at first. But when I felt how hard you were against my ass and heard how hard you were trying not to make any noise… I couldn’t help but tease you a little—push you to see if you’d slip up.”

He breathed out, an attempt at a laugh. He was in disbelief. “I underestimated you.”

“As did I. I didn’t know you felt that way about me.”

“I meant I underestimated your innocence.”

You grinned. “Turn left up here.”

His brows furrowed. “But that’s-“

“Just turn left.” You chuckled.

He did as you told. “You listen so well.” You teased, a hand finding his thigh. His breath hitched. “Can I tell you something?” You asked after a moment. He nodded. “I always thought you were handsome.” Your hand trailed up his torso, feeling his abs tense. “With this hair,” you ran a hand through the messy strands. “and all your freckles,” your hand cupped his cheek, running your thumb over his cheekbones. “and this jawline.” You traced it with a finger before placing a kiss to it. Pink lipgloss was left in place of your lips. You smiled at the sight.

“You’re very distracting.” His voice was uneven, and the strain of his pants was getting more uncomfortable by the second.

You continued kissing down his neck. “Am I?”

“Yes.” You felt the vibration of his voice against your lips.

“So find a place to pull over.”

The area was secluded, lying outside of the city. He pulled the car into some parking lot in front of the football fields, far from the main street and secluded by tall grass planes. He shut the car off, cutting the headlights.

You wasted no time in freeing his dick from his pants. “You wanted me this bad?” You teased with an evil grin. He nodded, not caring how desperate it looked. Not when your hand was wrapped around the base of his cock.

You didn’t even need anything extra, his cock was already slick with pre-cum, making it easy for your hand to give him tantalizingly slow strokes.

He bucked up into your hand, his head thrown back. “Shit, please,” he gasped.

“Hm? Please what Osc? You’ll have to be more specific. I’m not a mind reader.” You chuckled cruelly, fully knowing what you were doing to him. The sight of him losing himself just from your hand was making you dizzy.

He groaned, hands balled into fists. “Please, suck me off or just… anything! Please, oh fuck! Please!” He gasped as your strokes sped up.

“You want my mouth on you?”

“Yes! Please, baby!”

You pouted, feigning sympathy, and kissed his cheek. “Since you asked so nicely…”

“Ah! Yes!” He moaned as he felt your lips wrap around his lip, tongue darting out to lick up the underside of his cock.

You sunk deeper and deeper on him, earning louder moans and groans with each inch. If anyone where around, they’d surely hear them from outside the car.

“Oh fuck, you’re perfect.” He praised, bucking his hips into your mouth to hear you gag around his length.

You continued to suck him off, cheeks hollowing around the length of him, your tongue continuing to run along the underside. “You’re- hmm, ah! Shit!” He whined when your hand went to play with his balls, whatever way he was going to praise you flying out the window.

His hand settled on the back of your head, tangling in the strands. He didn’t do anything, though. No pushing or directing the frequency at which you were sucking him off. It was just there, perhaps so he could feel at least a little in control.

When his moans turned to whines, you knew he was close. He confirmed as much with a desperate, “‘m gonna cum!” Followed by thick ropes shooting down your throat. You swallowed every drop.

He slumped against the seat, breathing heavy while looking at you like you were a slice of his favorite cake.

“How about that dinner and then I’ll take you back to mine for dessert?”

[mywritersmind]

IN THE WAY - KA12

summary : You and a specific curly haired f1 driver may or may not be sneaking around. You think you’re a distraction. He calls you good luck. Relentlessly teased by other drivers and preoccupied by a certain young girl, you both sneak around the bahrain GP in a mess of laughter, kisses, and compliments.

listen up : one of my fav kimi fics ever!! kissing! insinuating sexual acts! lando, george, alex, and max being funny as hell and way too nosy!! no actual p in v but pretty hot and heavy! dual pov! hickeys!

words : 6003

⋆｡‧˚⋆

you

I shouldn’t be here. I know it. He knows it. But how could I say no? Kimi’s mother is fantastic and kind and invited my family to watch her beloved son do what he loves.

What she doesn’t know is she just brought a certified distraction for Kimi.

My mom always says I should support Kimi as much as possible, reminding me of how close we used to be and making it sound like her biggest regret in life was moving into the town over.

I support Kimi more than she knows. And not with homemade posters I would bring to his karting races.

“Fuck.” Kimi mumbles against my lips, pressed against me in his race suit while I'm sitting on his driver's room table. “Need ya.”

“No…” I groan into him, the feeling of rushed kisses and his hand hiking up my skirt too familiar. We both know we should stop. And then his lips find my neck and with ease, my head lols back, making me lose all memory of why the fuck I would say no.

“We have time.” He’s a liar and I know it.

Pulling away for real this time, I push him back. His face is flushed and his curls all messy from my grip. He looks drunk on me.

“You have got to focus.” I hop off the table, smoothing down my skirt, ignoring the pulsing between my thighs, and fixing my hair in his mirror. “And I've got to go.”

Kimi grabs my wrist, pulling me back with a pitiful look on his gorgeous face. “Just stay for a bit longer… we don’t have to do anything.”

I try to not look at his lips which are pulled into a frown and looking extremely kissable. “That’s the thing, Kimi. We will.”

He shakes his head, “No no. I won’t do anything. I’ll stay all the way across the room and do my warm ups while you take selfies or whatever.”

I cross my arms, “You’re looking at me as if you want to eat me.”

“Looking is different than doing… I'm a very patient man.” I don’t miss the way he tugs me closer, his grip soft and his eyes full.

I laugh, “Kimi!” He tries to kiss me again.

“Y/n.” He groans when I dodge him, pulling my hand away and grabbing the door handle, “Fine, leave me then! All alone…”

“You have Quali in thirty minutes!” I twist the handle, shaking my head, “Good luck, Kimi.”

“No good luck kiss?” I keep the door shut as he walks closer, rolling my eyes, I kiss his cheek.

“You got enough good luck five minutes ago.”

He smiles in that cheeky way he does whenever he reminisces. “Want me to walk you out?”

I scoff, walking out the door backwards, “I know the way-” What I don’t realize is how small the hallway is and when I don’t look before leaving the room, I slam the door into someone.

“Shit!” The British man says, making my eyes go wide along with Kimi’s. We hurry out of the room to see George Russell rubbing his head.

My hand slaps over my mouth as the idiot beside me, laughs! “Are you okay!?” I say quickly, punching Kimi in the stomach to shut him up.

“Yeah-” George looks up and registers the situation, “Yeah i’m fine.” He looks at me, then Kimi, then me again. I feel like I'm about to get scolded by my mother.

My phone rings in my pocket, I pull it out to see my actual mother calling me, “I really have to go now! Good luck, both of you!”

⋆༺

kimi

Qualifying goes well and just as I'm about to make it into the media pen, George whistles me over. He’s standing with Lando and Max, all looking at me as if they know something I don’t.

“Little Antonelli…” Lando grins, “I’m impressed.”

“Sorry…?”

Max claps me on my shoulder, laughing, “So, she your girlfriend or what?”

“I mean- she better be.” George pipes up, “Have you seen the way he looks at her?”

“Excuse me!?” I push Max’s hand off me, “What the fuck are you guys talking about?”

“The girl, the one who slammed the door in my face when sneaking out of your room. She’s pretty.” George grins at me as I narrow my eyes. What the hell is happening right now?

I scoff, “She was not sneaking out-”

“You work fast, kid.” Lando nods, “At eighteen I couldn’t even imagine a girl in my driver's room.”

“Probably because you didn’t have a girl or driver's room.” Max shoots back, Lando flipping him off and pushing his arm. Max looks at me again, “So, answer my question.”

“What q-”

“Is she your girlfriend?” George answers for him.

I blink. They’re asking if Y/n is my girlfriend right now? Seriously!? “I- uh… No.”

“More of a sneaky link then?” Max asks and gets punched in the arm by Lando promptly after. I’m too caught up on the fact that Max said ‘Sneaky Link’.

“You can’t ask that!” The man in orange says.

Max scoffs, “Why the hell not!?”

“That’s a child!”

George mumbles, “Didn’t seem very childlike when he was leaving his locked room with swollen lips and a hard o-” Lando hits George this time.

“Can you all shut up!?” I look around us, people milling about and starting to pay attention to the three men hounding me, “Why do you even care?”

“We’re just curious.” George shrugs, bringing his water to his lips.

“And nosy.” Lando adds.

“Nosy about what?” Alex walks up to us, dapping up George and nodding at the rest.

“Kimi’s got a girlfriend.” Max explains.

“I do not!” I groan again.

Alex raises a brow at the group. “How do you know?”

“Saw him sneaking her out before quali.” my teammate passes along his gossip.

“Seriously?” Alex crosses his arms, “I didn’t even risk Lily in my room until a year after we started dating.”

“Well we’re not dating!” This shuts the group up, as if they all are just hearing me for the first time.

“Well…” Max smirks, “What are you doing then?”

“She’s my friend, okay!?” I shake my head, wishing I was with her instead of these idiots, “Just my friend.”

Lando nods past me, “Just a friend who’s getting flirted with by Franco right now?”

I swear, if looks could kill, Franco Colapinto would be dead right now. Y/n is listening to him talk animatedly, nodding along politely. I refuse to believe she’s actually intrigued by the argentinian.

I turn back to the drivers who are all staring at me, “You okay…?” Alex asks.

“Yes! Why wouldn’t I be? She can talk to whoever she wants.”

“Even ‘Flirty Franco’?” Lando teases the nickname, something I don’t find funny.

“So tell me more about this little room rendezvous…” Alex asks George.

“Yeah!” Max agrees, “She hit you with a door?” Alex laughs at this piece of information he didn’t know.

George tells the story, I don’t expect it to be so embarrassing until he mentions her LIP GLOSS ON ME. I facepalm myself, “I gotta go-”

“Oh no you don’t Serena Vanderwoodsen.” Alex grabs my sleeve, pulling me back with ease, “I want to know more about this girl. Did you just meet her?”

“No! You really think i’d hookup with some random girl in my driver room?” They all just stare at me, “Have you!?” I get no response, telling me that they definitely have.

“So you admit you hooked up!” Lando points out, clearly not caring that i’m a ‘child’ anymore.

“Not today! I mean, shut up! This is not your business.”

“But she’s not some random girl?” George asks.

“I told you! We’re friends. Her family knows mine.” I cross my arms, watching George who nods suspiciously as if he doesn’t believe me.

They all go suspiciously quiet and I get the same feeling as before, like they know something I don’t. “She’s coming over here.” Max says, making my eyes go wide and answering my question-

“Hey.” I’d know that voice anywhere. I turn to face her, smiling because I simply can’t not when she’s around, “Sorry to interrupt.”

“Please, Don’t be!” I hear Lando say as she looks around at the group politely.

“I just-” her eyes flick from the guys to me, “Kimi, your mom wants to know when you’ll be at dinner…” She looks almost uncomfortable to say it and it makes me mad because I know exactly why. The four drivers are staring at her as if they’ve never seen a teenage girl in their life.

I’m about to answer her but am soon cut off by Max, “Kimi! You’re a horrible host. Introduce us.”

“Host…?” I look at him confused, then back to Y/n who I shoot a reassuring smile. “This is Y/n.”

“Friend, girlfriend…?” Lando adds teasingly. This makes Y/n laugh, I mean, actually laugh. It surprises me most out of the group.

“Friend.” She answers for me. “Kimi isn’t that lucky.” My jaw drops at this, the guys cracking up at my utter humiliation. She smiles at me and to the naked eye, one would think it’s innocent. But I know her, I know that wicked glint in her eye and the second her genuine smile turns into a mischievous smirk.

“I like her.” George says, bumping into Alex as they laugh harder.

“What were you saying about my Mom-” I turn back to Y/n, looking even more stunning then when I last saw her. If that’s even possible.

“Oh yeah! She wants to talk to you.” She points to where my Mom and dad are, they wave me over and when I look back to see if Y/n is following me, I realize she’s staying and already laughing with the drivers.

“Don’t worry, Kimi.” Max grins, “Go talk to mommy and daddy.” Lando is laughing even harder now, trying to say something but failing through choked laughs.

I hurry over to my parents and rush through the conversation, looking back frequently to make sure they’re not laughing with Y/n too hard…

“Just be at the hotel tonight at…” My mom finishes saying.

“Yeah, yeah, I'll be there!” I practically run back to Y/n, my hand drifting across her elbow as I smile. “Wanna grab a snack?”

She turns to me, “Why don’t I remember you crashing George’s car last year?” I glare at George who looks far too proud of himself.

“Maybe because you barely listen when I talk-”

“Oh don’t blame this on the poor girl!” Lando cuts in, “It’s okay to admit you were too embarrassed.”

“Okay!” I say quickly, turning back to Y/n and surprising the urge to take her hand. I know my parents are nearby and I'm not even sure how she would react if I did. “Come grab a bite with me.”

“Ordering the lady around now?” Alex raises a brow, “Y/n you better stand up for yourself.”

She just smiles, “Don’t worry, Kimi knows his place. I’m pretty sure he just wants me away from you lot.”

“Absolutely correct!”

Max leans in, “Before you go, what did Franco say to have you laughing so much-”

“Okay bye!” I do grab her hand now, pulling her away from the older drivers as she laughs.

⋆༺

I’m sitting across from her and trying to pretend her heeled foot isn’t tapping against my leg. My dad is telling a story and Y/n is laughing and listening along but I can’t do anything but watch her.

Maggie is next to her, smiling at the girl I know she looks up to. “Can we have a movie night?” my sister asks.

My mom shakes her head, “Not tonight love, everyone’s tired.”

“That’s alright!” Y/n says quickly, “I’d love to! I mean, if it’s okay. She can sleep in my room too!”

My mom adores Y/n, she’s always going on and on about how we should be closer and that Y/n’s mum wants the same. I don’t know how they haven’t noticed that we are close.

“Am I invited?” I ask, not even allowing myself to think before I speak.

Maggie grins, “Yes! Yes!”

“I don’t know…” Y/n eyes me, “Are you going to buy us snacks before?” Maggie gasps at this, giggling along with my friend.

I sigh, “One each and only from the vending machine-” Maggie jumps out of her seat at this, Y/n pushing back her chair as well.

“Wait, wait!” my dad says, wiggling his finger as he beckons me over. I lean into his ear, “Maggie stays with you two the whole time. No funny business.” I nod, slightly embarrassed even though no one else heard.

“Get a good rest too, Kimi!” Y/n’s mom says to me sweetly, “And Y/n, don’t keep Mag up too late.”

She smiles, her arm around my sister, “Yes ma’am!” The two hold hands and skip to the elevator, I get held back by a few people asking for photos but make it just before the doors close.

They sing Taylor Swift the whole way upstairs and Maggie bolts down the hall when she sees the vending machine. “So, when you imagined your big fabulous Formula one life, did you imagine getting ready for a race with a movie night?”

I smile softly, walking slower so we have more quiet time together, “Maybe not. But I'm glad it turned out this way.” I glance at my shoes, somewhat intimated by her, “You look really pretty tonight.”

She laughs as if it’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard, “I’ve been wearing the same thing all day and sweated all my makeup off.”

I shrug, not taking back a single thing. “My compliment still stands.”

My slow steps don’t matter because Maggie squeals at the end of the hall, rushing both of us.

I buy Maggie a candy bar and Y/n a bag of sour strips. “Nothing for you?” She asks, ripping open her package as we make our way to her room.

“Kimi is all healthy now.” Maggie pretends to gag as we walk in, making Y/n laugh and me roll my eyes.

Maggie decides that rapunzel is the correct choice for this magical Bahrain night. She plops herself in between us, candy in hand as her eyes grow big at the cartoon.

Maggie leans her head against my shoulder at some point, singing quietly with the songs.

I’ve never prepared for a race like this. Snuggling up with my little sister and my gorgeous friend, watching a childhood movie as they both sing and snack. Still, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

At some point, Maggie falls asleep between us, slouching into the pillows and blanket. “You’re really sweet.” Y/n says out of nowhere. “With your sister, it’s cute.”

“Thanks?” I lean my head against my pillow, watching her watch me in the dim light of her hotel room.

“I really like that about you.” Her eyes leave mine, “Not just with Maggie- like with me too.”

“What do you mean?”

She blushes a bit, something I don’t often see from her, “Like, I know we just mess around and stuff. But you’re really nice about it. You’re nice to me.”

“I’m… I'm glad you think that.You deserve it.” She smiles softly, the faint sound of rapunzel and her lantern song in the background, “So uh… I saw you talking to Franco today.”

She laughs out loud, “Yeah?”

“Did he say anything interesting…?”

“Kimi.” she blinks, “He’s twenty one.”

“I know!” I say in a quiet tone, “I’m just wondering.”

“He’s funny.”

I bite my tongue, “That’s good.”

She tilts her head against the wall, “He’s way too old for me.”

I smile, wide. “That’s even better.”

She rolls her eyes, shaking her head, “Jealous.”

I scoff, “What about the other drivers, what’d they say to you? Besides mentioning my crash.”

“They asked me about my intentions.” This piqued my interest, “with you.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm… George seemed to know something.”

“He wouldn’t shut up after he saw you leave my room.”

She hums, “That explains it.”

“They didn’t give you too much trouble, yeah?”

“No.” She laughs, “They’re funny. Big brother like.”

“They do give that vibe.” I say, “How was your view of quali?”

“Great. I saw this really hot guy in black and teal take off his helmet on TV. A highlight for me.“

I grin, “Curls and all?”

“No actually he was really tall and almost villain-esc.” I throw a pillow at her. She laughs so hard that Maggie wakes up, sad that she missed her favorite scene but fully awake once that horse is back on.

We stay quiet for the rest of the movie, sparing glances and small smiles over my sister's head. She falls asleep again, this time against Y/n’s shoulder. “I should go.” I whisper as the credits roll.

Y/n nods as I stand slowly. She replaces her shoulder with a pillow for Maggie, standing up with me and walking over to the door.

I don’t open it, I don’t really want to.

She looks tired, crossing her arms over her hoodie and leaning against the wall. “Night, Antonelli.”

I take a step, “You sure you don’t want to come to my room?” She smiles sleepily, her hand dropping to my pocket and tugging me closer.

“Your sister is staying in my room.”

“Yeah and she could literally sleep through an apocalypse- come on…” I beg, leaning in with a smirk. She shakes her head before she kisses me. Her lips are soft, slow… stable.

I don’t care about sleep or my sister or what my dad said. I care about how perfectly she fits against me and the feel of her hand slipping under my shirt.

We stay like that for a while. Kissing gently in the dark. I don’t want to leave. But I know I have to.

She pulls away first. Her face is only lit by the light that sneaks in through the hallway, just barely letting me make out how she’s biting her lip. Fuck it makes me want to kiss her again. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Night…” Is all I can choke out, opening the door and letting my hand drift off her. She waves slightly, her cheeks rosy and her eyes tired.

I force myself to walk away, force myself to not look back even though I know she’s watching me walk down the hall. I like this. I like us. I really fucking like her.

⋆༺

you

I’m wearing a teal dress. My mom said I look like a fish but Maggie said I look beautiful so I smile as I walk into the paddock. I’m wearing sneakers, for once, with my hair down and my dress flowing around my thighs.

My phone rings just when I walk into the Mercedes hospitality. KIMI🧐🏎️🥵🍝😘 is calling me.

I roll my eyes at the contact name, something he did for himself when I left my phone in his room, and pick it up. “Don’t roll your eyes.” He says immediately, making me a bit freaked out.

“You usually like it. Stalker.” I say, hearing him chuckle and having to turn in a full circle to finally spotting him next door, looking at me through the glass.

In baggy jeans and a very cute sweater I've borrowed multiple times, he looks really good. Especially when one hand goes to his pocket and the other to his hair. “C’mon those are different circumstances.”

“Why’d you call?”

“Come to my room?”

I frown, even though my stomach does a little flip when reminded of what happened yesterday in that same room. “Now?”

“Just to hangout…” He smiles at someone passing him before looking back at me, “Promise.”

“I wouldn’t be mad if you broke that promise…” He lets down a slow groan, tilting his head against the glass and looking away from me. I can’t help but smile when I see his curls pressed up against it.

“We can’t. I can’t- Fuck Y/n why did you have to say that?” He stands up straight, a hand over his face as he responds, “Just come. I mean- don’t! But wait. Shit.” I laugh at the accidental dirty joke and nod.

“I’ll be there in ten.”

He sticks up his thumb, now fully facing away from me, and hangs up.

I’m with him fifteen minutes later, getting caught up by George who introduces me to Carmen as ‘Kimi’s friend’, very suspiciously.

Kimi and I sit on his table-like bed, except I'm the one who’s sitting and he’s laying on his back with his head in my lap.

“Are you always this nervous before a race?”

He opens his eyes instantly, “I am not nervous.”

I push his hair back just like I've been doing for the past five minutes, “Kimi, your hands are shaking.” I take one of his hands in mine, his eyes following the movement.

“Maybe you just make me nervous.” He says quietly.

I smile softly, “It’s not the fact that your whole family is showing you off to mine?”

He sits up at this, keeping my hand in his, “Maybe it’s a bit of that too.”

“My family loves you.” I reassure him, scooting closer, “And they watch all your races anyway. This time it’s just… a bigger screen.”

He nods slowly, leaning in and saying my name the sweetest I've ever heard it. “Can I break my promise now…?”

I’m reminded of last night now, his soft voice in the darkness of my room. I swear I slept like a baby because of how gentle he was. How he always is.

I nod but he doesn’t like it when I don’t use my voice, “Words?” His lips are an inch away from mine as they curve into a smirk.

“Yeah, Kimi. You can do anything you want.” And then his lips crash into mine. It’s more hungry than last night, one hand on my waist and the other bracing himself on the bed.

“I like this dress.” Is all he mumbles before sliding a hand under the fabric and moving up the side of my leg. I get goosebumps immediately, his big hands warm against my skin.

He cups my boob, something that, might I add, looks excellent in the dress he likes so much. In fact, I get the sneaking suspicion that it’s the reason why he likes it. His lips trail down my throat, to my chest.

“You leave a mark and I'll kill you.” I moan halfway through my sentence and all he does is shoot me a hot little smirk.

“I’ll just make it hidden.” And then he grabs my waist and physically pulls me over to him, sitting me down on his lap.

“Didn’t know you had a marking kink.” I say as he carefully slips the shoulders off my dress, pulling it so carefully down as if it could rip at any moment.

Kimi eyes me, then he dips his head down to my stomach. “I don’t.” He mumbles against my skin as I purposefully grind into him. His hands grip my waist tighter when I do, kissing up my skin and shifting my lace bra just enough so he can get his lips just below my boob.

“So you’re not drooling at the idea of your marks on me?” He responds through movement, using his other hand to drift over my nipple and make me grind into him even more. “Shit, Kimi.”

“Say my name again.” I swear I've never heard anything so hot. He leaves my skin, I can’t tell if there’s a hickey or not because his lips are on mine again.

My bra is out of place, now covered by his hands. I grip the back of his neck and rub against him, wanting to go farther but knowing my limit.

“Kimi.” I whine as he grabs my ass. I don’t even know if the door is locked and honestly- I don’t care.

I can feel him under me, the hardness growing at every move I make. I kiss his jaw, his neck, tug at the fabric covering him.

I bite his lip, “I like this sweater.”

“Yeah?” He says against me, tugging at the hem already.

“Yeah.” I pull it off for him, uncovering his body. God I love his body. Saying Kimi is fit would be an understatement, I take in every hard line of him before kissing him again, running a hand down his bicep.

My hand goes to his chest, down his abs and teasing the waist of his jeans. His cheeks are red, his eyes wide with lust as he stares up at me. I smirk and just as I unclasp the button, an alarm blares.

“No!” Kimi groans in frustration, grabbing his phone and turning it off immediately, “Fuck.” He leans his head back so hard that he knocks it on the wall.

I frown, knowing what it means.

I go to get off of him but he holds me firmly in place, “No.” He looks genuinely so defeated that it’s hard not to laugh.

“Kimi.” I slowly climb off of him, smiling at the boy who’s now cupping his hands over his dick print. “Kimi!” I laugh, adjusting my dress as he groans again.

“You’re so fucking hot…” He says, his eyes closed and sounding as pained as he looks.

I smile at his words, How could I not be flattered?

“And I really wanted you to give me a hickey.” He tugs my dress back down like it’s nothing, “Look how good mine looks.” Now he’s smiling and the second I follow his instructions, I understand.

There’s a bruise on my rib, still a bit shiny and aching. It does look really good. “I wish we were in my car again.” I laugh at his sudden words.

His car, as in, the first time we had sex.

I remember the whole thing so well that it makes me bite my lip just at the memory. He was just gifted his mercedes and wanted to give it a test drive, no one else wanted to go so Kimi and I hopped in the car, ditching our families and dinner, blasted music, and drove to the beach.

There was no one around because of how far up this hill we went. And for some reason, Kimi made a joke about getting in the backseat. And then we did.

Our parents asked what took us so long and when Kimi went red, I just shrugged and said he lost his keys for a moment. Lost his mind more like, but we won’t dwell on the details.

“I can’t give you a hickey now.” I pull out my lipstick, swiping it on in his mirror, “But I can still leave my mark.” He’s moved to be laying down now, his hands over his face and his boner painfully obvious.

I kiss him right in the middle of his chest, my lipstick rubbing off and leaving a perfect mark. He opens his eyes, smiling at it and then promptly frowning.

“That won’t stay.”

I shake my head, grabbing my setting spray from my purse and spraying it. He yelps slightly at the cold feeling, Sitting up and tilting his head at it. “Have I ever told you how hot you are?”

I kiss Kimi’s cheek, smearing some red on the area by accident this time. “Good luck today.”

“Good luck!?” He sits up, “You’re gonna leave me with this!?” He motions down to his dick which makes me laugh.

“You’ll be okay.” I pat his shoulder but he holds my hand there with his, shaking his head.

“I will not. I will not be okay!”

“Just don’t think too much about the mark on me.” I say, “The one only you can see…”

“You're evil!” He says as I back up, “Absolutely evil.”

“I’ll be screaming your name.” I wiggle my fingers at him, “Have fun.”

“I hate you.” He lies right to my face and we both know it.

⋆༺

kimi

The race went okay, besides almost fainting when I got out of the car, it was boring from my side.

I almost pass out again when my family corners me after I finally get out of media. All I want to do is go to the hotel and fall asleep, even if I know I won’t be able to.

They talk to me all the way to the hotel, Y/n sitting in the front seat quietly on her phone. I wonder if I did anything wrong, especially when she doesn’t say anything after my family gets out of the elevator on their floor.

Our rooms are on the same floor, something I was looking forward to. “Are you okay?” Is the first thing she asks me, “You looked really bad getting out of the car.”

I blink, “Jeez, thanks.”

She shoves my shoulder and just like that, we’re back. “I was worried, idiot!”

I smile tiredly at her, watching her lips pull together in a line, “Wanna come to my room tonight?”

She sighs dramatically, “I guess I can spare a few hours.” I roll my eyes as we step out of the elevator. “You did good today. I like coming to your races.”

I love hearing her talk like that. I slip my hand into her back pocket, her dress replaced with jeans. “Thanks for coming. I like having you here.” I don’t mean to make it sound so… domestic? But the way she looks at me after, I swear I feel my heart grow.

She’s about to say something but shakes her head and kisses me instead. I kiss her back, in the middle of the hallway, my hand still on her denim.

And then… a little gasp interrupts us.

I swing my head back to see what could possibly get in our way now. The answer?

My little sister.

“Holy shit.” My jaw drops at her use of swear words. Holy shit is right though.

“Maggie!” Y/n practically tears away from me, her eye wide and refusing to look at me. “Hi.”

“Uhm…” Maggie steps closer, still looking shocked, “Kimi, you forgot this.” She hands me my phone. My fucking phone!? Why do I have to be such an idiot.

“Thanks.” I don’t even want to look at her i'm so embarrassed. I grab my phone and pocket it quickly, “Uh Mags?”

“Hm?”

“Could you not tell mom and dad about this…?” I look at Y/n who’s nodding along enthusiastically,

“Or anyone, for that matter.” Y/n adds on.

“Sure.” She blinks before turning around, “One more thing. Are you dating?” I swallow.

“No.” Y/n says right as I nod, “Yes!”

Oh just kill me now.

I close my eyes, wondering how my life has led to this moment.

“We uh…” Y/n gives me a look, “It’s new.”

Maggie nods slowly, “Okay! Well, never kiss in front of me again.” And then she turns around, skips away, and the second she turns the corner to where I know the elevators are, Y/n hits my arm.

“Hey!”

“You need to be more careful.”

“Me!?” I scoff, swiping my key against the door, “You kissed me!”

She shakes her head, dropping her bag on the table and walking in. “Your hand was on my ass.”

“I didn’t expect her to be there!” I lay flat on my bed, shaking my head in mortification still, “Do you think she’ll tell?”

“Maggie?” She asks, “Honestly, no. She’d do anything you ask.”

I roll over, shoving my face into my pillow, “I can’t believe I told her we’re dating.” I say muffled by the soft fabric.

“Neither can I.” I feel her hop onto the bed next to me.

“I didn’t mean to.” I sit up quickly, realizing she’s now changed into one of my hoodies, “Honestly I just panicked and didn’t really feel like explaining… us.”

She’s smiling. “That’s okay.”

She said no. Maggie asked if we were dating and she said no. Of course she said no! We’re not dating. So why the hell would I say yes!?

“If she tells our parents, we’re screwed.” I blink, not sure if she’s understanding what I might have just gotten us into.

“Kimi.”

“No- Like actually we’re gonna have to pretend to date and act all lovey dovey because if our moms finds out I swear they’ll send out the wedding invites.” She laughs at this, “I can’t believe you’re laughing! We’re going to fake date and you’re laughing!”

“Or… you could just ask me out for real.” My eyes go wide. Sorry? What!?

“Come again?” my brows furrow as she laughs harder.

“I mean…” She fiddles with the sleeves of my jacket, “If you don’t want to, that's fine.”

“No!” I shoot up to my knees, looking at her and probably looking crazy, “I absolutely do! I thought… I thought you didn’t.”

“Why would I not want to? Kimi. I’m in your bed right now.”

“Cause I thought you wanted to hook up-”

“I’m wearing your hoodie.” She deadpans.

“Ever heard of aftercare?”

“Kimi!” She groans in frustration, pulling up my shirt and reminding me of the kiss mark she left there. It’s a bit smudged now, but definitely still visible. “I really want to go out with you. For real.”

“Oh.” I breathe out, “Okay.”

“Okay!?” She slaps my arm, “Kimi!”

I laugh, pulling her in again, “I really want to go out with you too.” Kissing her cheek, I smile. “For real.”

A moment passes between us, quiet and completely comfortable. And then I laugh, “You like me.” She hits me with a pillow- hard.

“Shut up!”

⋆༺

you

Kimi holds my hand as we walk into the elevator. I rest my head against his shoulder as we start moving. I’m in shorts and his Mercedes jacket, we’re both holding our luggage and ready to leave the hot country.

The elevator stops at one floor, Lando Norris and Max Verstappen walk in. “Morning.” Lando says to both of us, squeezing into the metal box.

Kimi sends me an apologetic look. He’s already embarrassed, his cheek go red easily and this morning is no exception.

“Fun night?” Max asks, clearly trying to get a rise out of the curly haired boy.

“Fuck off.” He mumbles.

The elevator stops again and Alexander albon walks in. His eyes go wide for a moment before nodding at the lot and entering.

Kimi squeezes my hand even harder as I bite back a laugh, the group all eyeing each other with tension thick in the air.

Just as I think we’re almost done, the elevator stops one more time. George Russell stands outside of it.

George eyes me, then Kimi. He says nothing, walking in with a bag slung over his shoulder. And then, Lando coughs.

For some reason, this is what makes Kimi break.

“Alright, let it out!” They erupt in laughter, shoving and talking to each other loudly as we finally descend to the lowest level.

“This is the best morning of my life!” George claps Kimi on the shoulder as Lando literally holds himself up by Max.

“This made my weekend, mate, really.” the brit nods.

“I get five bucks!” Alex yells out, grabbing the bill out of Lando’s hands.

“Oh my god.” I actually laugh at this. As if they forgot that I was there, the group of older drivers stared at me! “You’re all rich, five bucks is all you could spare!?”

The doors open and Kimi physically pushes past the group, all of them staring at us as we leave. I snatch the bill from Alex’s hand and smile. “I’ll take that, thanks.”

[81pastrys]

Sleepy Solution

Summary— Max had a morning problem and she compromised, but he couldn’t hold back

Warnings— morning sex ; ‘just the tip’ ; overstimulation ; no aftercare (she falls back asleep)

A/N— why hello, I’m back

Max One Shots

Dividers @bernardsbendystraws @dollywons

Request— Hi! I have a new idea. Max and his girlfriend in the morning, in bed under the sunlight. His girlfriend is really tired while Max wakes her up with sweet, insistent kisses. He has the morning problem, so he wants her terribly and insists. But his girlfriend, still half asleep, wants to rest, so she offers him "just the tip." Max accepts, but as time goes on, he can't hold back any longer and he ends up putting everything in.-🫦

Mornings were usually calmer with Max. He was usually tired from gaming all night and she was usually tired from being such a housewife.

Max had been home from a break a few days and she loved the fact she could get cuddled to sleep again. He’d hold her tight and all her muscles would relax and she’d let out a sigh of content.

She was a peaceful sleeper, especially with Max holding her. Otherwise she would toss and turn all night. Max had less calmer ideas when he woke up hard though. “Schatje.” He murmured in her ear.

She hummed and he kissed her, non-stop. Her cheeks. her hair, her neck, anywhere he could reach without disturbing her too much. “Morning.” She grumbled tired.

“So cute when you sleep in me like this.” He hummed. He smiled and she wriggled her body to get more comfortable and brushed a leg against his ‘issue’ his breath hitched. “Can we fix that? Please?”

She groaned, her eyes already shut but creasing from her closing them more. “Just the tip?” She offered. “I’m too tired Max.” He chuckled but nodded at her.

“Okay, we can do just the tip.” He whispered back, in between his insistent kisses. They were already half dressed, so he pulled his boxers off and moved her panties to the side.

He reached and hand down to her and felt her arousal. She moaned at the touch and he smiled again. He lined up his tip and breached her entrance just the slightest, only the head of him inside her. He groaned, feeling her tight walls getting tighter at her muscles trying to get more of him.

They stayed how they were for a minute and he whined, he needed more than just the tip, he needed all of her around all of him. “Het spijt me schatje.” (I’m sorry baby) he whispered before he pushed all the way inside her.

She moaned loud as he did. She gasped a took a few bigger breaths at how much he filled her in this angle. “Fuck Max.” She arched her back, the feeling too much for the morning haze. Her body shook as he held her close.

He ran his fingers through her hair, shushing her as he stayed where he was. She whined from how full and overstimulated she was. “Do you want me to move?” He whispered in her ear. She whined again and pushed at his hip.

“No, but I might cum if you pull out.” She strained in her tired and raspy voice. Her breath shaky as he slightly twitched inside her. He hushed her again and stayed as still as he could.

What got her to climax wasn’t just the slight twitches, but when he got deeper by pulling her closer. She gasped and he let her body shake from the pleasure. “Too much?” He asked.

She shook her head in disagreement and they stay connected for a while longer, his dick slowly softening inside her. “Never again.” She panted. He chuckled after pulling out, her body wracked from the intensity of it all.

“No morning sex, got it.” Max noted. “Thank you.” He pecked her cheek and she groaned, still overly tired from not just the previous day but now from the orgasm he quickly pulled from her. “I didn’t know you were that sensitive in the morning.”

She rubbed her face on her pillow, now lying on her belly. “I told you just the tip.” She grumbled into the pillow. He chuckled again and let her be. They never had morning sex before now and he now knew why.

“Are you going to shower or do I have to manhandle you to clean up?” He asked from their shared bathroom. She was already claimed by sleep again and he chuckled to himself. Clean up can wait apparently.

Apologies for the absence. Easter kicked my ass and then my ex decided to break no contact SO!

@il0vereadingstuff @pandabiiissh @itznotsophia @justaf1girl @kallanfiona

[dreamauri]

Could you please write something with Fernando when you’re Ayrton Sennas daughter. When you and Fernando first started dating and finally got married you decided to keep it a secret you wanted to enjoy you’re live together without the scrutiny from the outside world which would without a doubt would come if the public found out with you’re last name and you’re and Fernandos age difference but you couldn’t careless you’re pretty sure that some people will figure it out under them Lance which made it too his personal quest too get Fernando too talk about his personal live. The speculations only get worse when Alain congratulated Fernando when you gave birth to a boy not realizing that they get filmed. Much Love❤️

♪ — 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗤𝗨𝗜𝗘𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 fernando alonso x wife! senna! reader ( fluff ) fic summary . . . fernando likes to keep his life outside of an f1 paddock as private as possible, because it's not every day an Alonso gets married to Senna's younger daughter and has a boy with her.

( my master list | more of fernando alonso ) ( requests )

There’s a house in Oviedo that the press doesn’t know about.

It sits at the edge of town, near the woods, where the trees thicken and the sun spills gold through cracked shutters in the morning. It’s all quiet up here — the kind of quiet that can’t be bought with fame or fortune, only earned by sacrifice. This is where Fernando Alonso becomes just a man — not a champion, not a headline. Just a husband, a father.

Inside, you hum to yourself, barefoot on tile, a spoon of mashed avocado in one hand and a sleepy toddler in the other. Your boy — with his father’s eyes and your late father’s defiant brow — babbles nonsense through a gummy grin, fingers smearing green across the bib that says Papá’s Champion.

“Yeah? Is that so?” you laugh, brushing his hair back. He squeals, kicking, and your phone buzzes.

One message. Then three. Then ten.

The screen fills up like a warning light. Your fingers tremble as you scroll.

Did Prost really out you? Are you married to Alonso?? WTF, Y/N. YOU HAVE A BABY???

Your chest tightens. You barely hear the soft sound of your son dropping the spoon to the floor.

It happened.

You glance at the television across the room — volume low, a racing recap airing muted highlights — just in time to catch it: a blurry shot of Fernando laughing with Alain Prost, the older man’s voice still mic’d.

“Congratulations on the baby, Alonso. A son, no less. You and your wife must be over the moon,” Prost said with a soft smile. “I saw the photos. Your boy looks just like you.”

Your breath catches. The camera pans away too late. The footage is real. Raw. It aired.

You stare at it like it might change, like time could reverse.

“Fernando,” you whisper, grabbing your phone. “They know.”

It had started with stolen glances.

Portimão, five years ago. A WEC afterparty, golden wine and neon lights. You hadn’t meant to meet him — hadn’t planned to sit beside the legend your father once raced against, his legacy braided into yours through decades of track history and bloodline myth.

But he had leaned toward you with quiet curiosity, not flirtation, and asked, “Do you ever feel like your name isn’t yours?”

And you’d laughed. Not because it was funny, but because it was true.

You’d danced once that night. And then again the next time you met. He never asked for your number, only said, “I’ll find you.”

And he did.

Every city, every season. Barcelona, Tokyo, Monaco. Always quiet, always private. No photos. No red carpet.

He loved you in the in-betweens — the sleepy mornings, the grocery runs, the scar behind your knee from a childhood fall. When he proposed, it was in your mother’s garden, hands covered in dirt from planting tulips.

“Say yes,” he said, breathless. “And I swear I’ll protect you from all of it.”

You said yes.

Two years married now. One child. Zero tabloid mentions — until today.

Fernando returned to Formula 1 like a man possessed — sharp, hungry, invincible again. But even in the chaos, he stayed private. Not cold, never. Just... contained. Like he carried something precious beneath his skin.

To the world, he was the bachelor prince of motorsport. Too fast for commitment. Too busy to settle.

But his teammate, Lance Stroll, had always found that a little too tidy.

“You never bring anyone to race weekends,” Lance pointed out once, half-teasing, half-prodding. “Even Max has a plus-one sometimes.”

Fernando shrugged. “I like my solitude.”

“Mmm.” Lance sipped his coffee. “Or maybe Oviedo’s just that interesting.”

Fernando’s jaw twitched. A subtle thing. Most people wouldn’t have caught it. But Lance had grown up under scrutiny, too. He knew how to see what wasn’t said.

Later that night, he found a receipt in the simulator office. Oviedo. Children’s clothing boutique. Paid in cash.

Lance never mentioned it. But he started watching closer.

It was a Netflix crew, staying late to shoot B-roll for DTS.

They weren’t meant to catch anything useful. Just paddock shots, maybe a few driver interviews. Alain Prost had stopped by for a surprise visit, all smiles and nostalgia.

When he greeted Fernando, they embraced like old war generals. And Alain — always sharp, but not mic-conscious — leaned in with a grin.

“Congratulations on the baby, Alonso. A son, no less. You and your wife must be over the moon.” Prost said with a soft smile. “I saw the photos. Your boy looks just like you,”

“He has Yn’s eyes,” Fernando answered, so softly and quietly. “We named him Ayrton.”

The crew caught every word. Every frame.

It aired five days later — a 10-second snippet buried in a longer feature.

But fans are scavengers. They clipped it. Cropped it. Shared it with captions like:

FERNANDO HAS A BABY? FERNANDO HAS A WIFE?? WHO IS HIS WIFE???

Within hours, #WHOISTHEWIFE was trending in Spain and Brazil, the fandom going feral in real-time.

At first, no one knew. The identity of the mysterious mother was the crown jewel of F1 conspiracy culture. But then — someone made the connection. The baby’s name.

Ayrton.

And with that, the internet spiraled. Theories turned to threads. Threads turned to receipts.

“It has to be someone connected to Senna.” “What if... it’s his daughter?” “Wait. Didn’t she disappear from the public eye a few years ago?” “FERNANDO. ALONSO. MARRIED. SENNA’S. DAUGHTER??”

And just like that, you had been found. Not with a press release. Not with a soft reveal.

No.

They found you like hunters in the forest — following the breadcrumbs you never meant to drop.

You watched the storm bloom from your couch in Oviedo, one arm wrapped around your son as your whole life unraveled in pixels. Faces you'd never met were stitching together your love story like it was a puzzle box.

Your phone rang just after sunset.

“Mi vida,” Fernando said, his voice low. “I saw it. I’m so sorry—”

“I know,” you interrupted. “I know. It’s not your fault.”

You could hear him breathing hard, like he’d been running. Or pacing. “I never wanted you to be exposed like this.”

“It’s not your fault,” you said again, though your throat ached like you'd swallowed glass. “I always knew it wouldn’t stay secret forever.”

“I should’ve told them. About you. About our son. Maybe not everything, but... something.”

You closed your eyes, heart pounding under the quiet weight of it all. “What do we do now?”

A beat. Then his voice — quieter. Stronger. Like the eye of the storm.

“We stop hiding.”

Fernando wore his wedding ring for the first time on a race weekend in Italy.

Not on a chain. Not tucked into a drawer. But boldly, openly, on his left hand — gleaming in the sun as he tightened his gloves, as he signed autographs, as he stood for press photos.

There was no press conference. No prepared statement. He simply was — as if this was how it had always been.

And maybe it was. Maybe the truth had always lived in the way he smiled after races, the way he flew home the second the checkered flag waved, the way he rarely posted on Instagram but always checked yours.

The paddock noticed. The fans noticed.

And back in Oviedo, so did you — watching from your quiet living room as your son clapped and pointed at the screen, babbling “Papá” through a mouthful of banana.

You touched your own ring. Still warm.

They never fully stopped talking.

You were Ayrton Senna’s daughter. He was Fernando Alonso. Of course they speculated.

But over time, the noise softened.

Photos emerged — the three of you on a beach, grainy but sweet. The internet went insane, but it couldn’t change what you had.

Your home stayed your sanctuary. Your son learned to say fast before he learned to say car. The world kept spinning, faster and faster, but for once, you weren’t chasing it.

Fernando came home between races and kissed you like the world hadn’t fallen apart.

“You’re not mad?” he’d asked one night, after the baby had fallen asleep.

“No,” you whispered. “I’m relieved.”

Because after five years of shadows, after vows exchanged in quiet corners, you were finally seen.

And still safe.

And still in love.

[moonlightwritingf1]

Craving You | LN4

✩‧₊˚ summary ━━━━━━━ Pregnant and aching with need, Y/N finds herself craving sex with Lando after weeks without it, though their attempts are humorously awkward due to her baby bump and slipping pillows. 

✩‧₊˚ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

✩‧₊˚ word count ━━━━━━━ 4.5k

✩‧₊˚ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, creampie?, slow sex, pregnancy sex, nipples play?, multiple positions

Based on this request.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably on the bed, her back propped up against a mountain of pillows. Her hands rested on the swell of her belly, the baby within kicking softly as if sensing her restlessness. She glanced over at Lando, who was lying beside her, his head resting on one hand, the other tracing absent patterns on her thigh. His eyes were half-lidded, that familiar teasing glint shining through.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he murmured, his voice low and rich, like honey dripping over velvet. “Thinking about something… or someone?”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, someone is definitely on my mind,” she quipped, her tone playful yet laced with a deeper undertone she didn’t bother hiding. She’d been feeling it all evening—that restless, electric energy buzzing under her skin. It had been weeks since they’d been intimate, and though she’d been the one to hesitate at first, now the craving was undeniable.

Lando’s eyebrows shot up, and he shifted closer, his hand sliding up her thigh to rest on her hip. “Care to share your thoughts?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave, the teasing replaced by something far more serious.

She bit her lip, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her oversized t-shirt. “Maybe,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m not sure I can… say it.”

His gaze softened, and he moved even closer, his chest brushing against her arm. “You can tell me anything, you know that,” he said, his voice gentle but insistent. “Anything at all.”

She took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. “I… I want to… be with you,” she finally admitted, her cheeks flushing as she spoke. “But… it’s been so long, and I’m just… I don’t know how we’d…”

Her words trailed off, but Lando didn’t need her to finish. He understood. His hand moved from her hip to her belly, his touch tender as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “We’ll figure it out,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring. “We’ll take it slow, just like we always do.”

She nodded, her breath catching as he brushed his lips against her temple, then her cheek, before finally capturing her mouth in a kiss that was both sweet and searing. His hand slid under her t-shirt, his fingers skimming over her skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. She moaned softly into his mouth, her hands tangling in his hair as the kiss deepened, the tension between them crackling like a live wire.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads pressed together. “You’re so beautiful,” Lando whispered, his voice rough with desire. His fingers traced the curve of her belly, his touch reverent. “I don’t know how you do it, but you just keep getting more and more stunning.”

She laughed softly despite herself, her cheeks flushing even darker. “You’re such a charmer,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Always know the right thing to say.”

He grinned, his dimples flashing. “Can’t help it if it’s true,” he said. “Now… let’s see if I can remember how to do this.”

His hand began to move with purpose, fingers trailing a slow, deliberate path downward. His touch was electric, every inch of her skin buzzing as he traced the curve of her waist, down to the soft swell of her belly. He paused there for a moment, his palm resting protectively over the life growing inside her.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he whispered, his voice thick with awe and desire. “Every part of you. Every inch.” His hand drifted lower, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin just above the waistband of her sleep shorts. She bit her lip, her breath hitching as his fingers dipped beneath the fabric, teasingly slow, as if he was savoring every second of this.

“Lando…” she breathed, her voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and desperation. Her body tensed, her hips lifting slightly off the mattress, as if urging him to take what she was so clearly offering. His hand stilled for a moment, his eyes locking with hers, searching for any sign of hesitation. But there was none—only need, raw and unfiltered, burning in her gaze.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice soft but laced with an intensity that made her stomach flip. She nodded, her hands gripping the sheets as she whispered, “Yes. I want you. I need you.”

Her words were all the encouragement he needed. His fingers slid lower, brushing against the warmth between her thighs, and she gasped, her back arching as he found her most sensitive spot. His touch was light at first, a gentle exploration that made her toes curl and her breath catch in her throat. But then he pressed deeper, his fingers circling in a way that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through her body.

“God, you’re so wet for me,” he groaned, his voice rough with desire as he leaned in to capture her lips in a searing kiss. His other hand cradled her belly protectively, his touch a grounding contrast to the fire he was igniting between her legs. She moaned into his mouth, her hands tangling in his hair as he deepened the kiss, his fingers never stopping their relentless pace.

“The baby…” she murmured against his lips, her voice wavering despite the ache coursing through her.

“We’re fine,” he assured her, his voice steady and reassuring. “I’ve got you. Both of you.” His lips trailed down her neck, his teeth grazing her skin in a way that made her shudder. “Just let me take care of you.”

And she did. With every touch, every kiss, every whispered word, he reminded her why she’d waited for him, why she’d let herself fall so completely. Because when it came to Lando, it wasn’t just about the physical—it was about the way he made her feel, the way he cherished her, even in moments like this when the world felt too big and their bodies felt too small.

“I need you,” she whispered again, her voice breaking as his fingers curled inside her, sending a wave of pleasure so intense it stole her breath. And he didn’t hesitate. He never did. Because when it came to her, Lando was always ready to give her everything.

“Stop,” she gasped, her voice breaking as his fingers curled inside her again and again, sending a wave of pleasure so intense it stole her breath. But it wasn’t enough—not anymore. She needed more. She needed him. “Lando, please… I need you. Your fingers… they’re not enough.” Her hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as she pulled him closer, her hips arching off the mattress in a desperate plea. “I need your cock. Please, I need to feel you inside me.”

Lando’s eyes darkened, desire blazing in them as he looked down at her, his chest heaving. “You’re sure?” he asked, his voice rough, strained with restraint. “I don’t want to hurt you. Or the baby.”

She shook her head, her hands moving to cup his face, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “You won’t,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “I need you, Lando. Please… fuck me. I’ve been waiting… dreaming about this. I need to feel you, all of you.”

His jaw tightened, a low groan escaping him as he leaned down to capture her lips in a searing kiss. “God, Y/N… you have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured against her mouth, his hands moving to grip her hips. 

“I’ll give you everything. Always,” Lando whispered, his voice a low, gravelly promise that sent shivers down her spine. He leaned down to press a searing kiss to her lips before pulling back, his eyes locked on hers as he slowly, deliberately reached for the waistband of his boxers. He tugged them down, his gaze never leaving hers, the heat in his eyes enough to make her heart race and her breath catch.

She lay there, watching him, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths as he moved closer, his hands now on her pajama bottoms. “Let’s get these off,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His fingers brushed against her skin as he slid the fabric down her legs, his touch deliberate and teasing, sending waves of anticipation coursing through her. She lifted her hips to help him, her body trembling with the intensity of the moment.

Once she was bare before him, Lando’s hands moved to her hips, his touch both possessive and tender. “Turn on your side for me, love,” he said softly, his voice gentle but laced with urgency. She nodded, her breath hitching as she shifted onto her side, her back now pressed against his chest. His hand rested on her thigh, his fingers tracing slow, maddening circles as he adjusted behind her, his hips aligning with hers.

His hard length pressed against her entrance, and she gasped, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through her body. His hand tightened on her thigh as he rocked his hips forward, rubbing himself against her, the friction teasing and torturous all at once. “You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, his voice roughened with need. His breath was hot against her neck, his lips grazing her skin.

But then—“Ow—wait, wait, babe—cramp!” she gasped, her body tensing as she reached for his hand to stop him.

He froze instantly, pulling back slightly. “Shit, sorry! Is it your leg or…?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

“No, no—it’s the bump,” she explained, grimacing slightly. “It’s just squished.”

They paused for a moment, their heavy breaths filling the room as they both laughed softly, the tension easing for a second. “Okay, okay,” Lando said with a grin, his hands moving to help her shift onto her back.

“Okay, let’s try something different,” she suggested, her breath still uneven as she pushed herself up from the pillows. Her hands slid over Lando’s shoulders, her touch lingering as she shifted her weight, her movements slow and deliberate. She swung one leg over him, her belly pressing gently against his thighs as she positioned herself above him, facing away. Her back was to him now, the curve of her spine and the swell of her bump exposed, the dim light of the room casting soft shadows over her skin.

Lando’s hands immediately found her hips, his fingers gripping her possessively as she lowered herself onto him. “Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice rough with desire as he felt her warmth hovering just above him. His cock strained against her, hard and aching, and he couldn’t help but rock his hips upward, a silent plea for her to take him in.

She felt him nudge against her, the tip of him brushing against her entrance, and she shuddered, her breath catching in her throat. Slowly, she sank down, inch by inch, her body stretching to accommodate him. The sensation was overwhelming—warm, tight, and electric, a mix of pleasure and a deep, aching fullness that made her toes curl. She gasped, her hands gripping his thighs for support as she felt him fill her completely, the pressure and heat of him sending sparks of pleasure radiating through her body.

For Lando, it was pure bliss. Her wetness enveloped him, her warmth wrapping around his cock in a way that made his head spin. The tightness of her, the way her body seemed to cling to him, was almost too much to bear. He let out a low, guttural groan, his hands tightening on her hips as he fought the urge to thrust up into her. “You feel fucking incredible,” he gritted out, his voice strained. “So tight, so warm… like you were made for me.”

She moaned softly, her hips rocking slightly as she adjusted to the feel of him inside her. But then, the strain in her thighs became impossible to ignore, and the weight of her belly pressed uncomfortably against her lungs. “Oh god,” she wheezed, her hands trembling as she tried to hold herself up. “Lando, I’m either going to pass out or fall over.”

He chuckled, though his voice was thick with lust. “Let’s not have that happen,” he said, his hands moving to help her shift her weight. Gently, he helped her move off from on top of him, guiding her down until she was lying back on the bed. He grabbed every pillow within reach, stacking them beneath her hips as she lay back. The angle was better this way—less strain, more focus on them. His hands lingered on her thighs, his touch possessive but tender, as he positioned himself between her legs.

She could feel the heat of him against her, the tip of his cock brushing her entrance, and a shiver ran through her. “Ready?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, thick with desire. She nodded, biting her lip as he pushed into her slowly, inch by torturous inch.

He felt divine. The way her body welcomed him, warm and wet, was almost overwhelming. She gasped, her hands gripping the sheets as he filled her completely, the stretch and fullness sending sparks of pleasure radiating through her core. His name spilled from her lips in a breathy moan, and he groaned in response, his hands tightening on her hips.

But then—of course—the pillows began to shift. She felt herself sliding down awkwardly, the angle changing as gravity betrayed them. “Okay, so gravity is not on our side tonight,” she mumbled, her voice tinged with both amusement and frustration.

Before she could adjust, Lando’s cock slipped out of her, leaving her feeling strangely empty. She let out a soft whine, her body craving the heat of him again. He chuckled, his hands moving to steady her hips. “Let’s try that again,” he said, his voice rough with need.

This time, he didn’t hesitate. He guided himself back to her entrance, the tip nudging against her folds. She gasped as he pushed in again, the sensation of him sliding inside her for the second time even more intense. The initial stretch was sharp, almost too much, but then it melted into a deep, aching pleasure that spread through her entire body. Her walls clenched around him instinctively, drawing a low, guttural groan from his throat.

For Lando, it was pure bliss. Her tightness enveloped him, her warmth wrapping around his cock in a way that made his head spin. The wetness of her, the way her body seemed to cling to him, was almost too much to bear. He let out a shaky breath, his hands gripping her thighs as he fought the urge to thrust into her with all the pent-up desire he’d been holding back. “You feel fucking incredible,” he gritted out, his voice strained. “So tight, so warm… like you were made for me.”

She moaned softly, her hips shifting slightly to take him deeper. The sensation of him filling her completely, the pressure and heat of him, was overwhelming. It was as if every nerve in her body was on fire, every touch, every movement, sending waves of pleasure crashing through her.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “You’re so perfect, Y/N. Every part of you.” His thrusts were slow and deliberate, each one drawing another gasp from her lips. She could feel the rhythm building between them, the tension tightening like a coil ready to snap.

But then—again—the pillows slipped, and she felt herself sliding down. Lando cursed under his breath, his hips stalling as he tried to adjust. She let out a frustrated laugh, her body trembling with the effort to hold itself up. “Okay, so maybe this isn’t going to work,” she said, her voice breathless.

Lando chuckled, though his voice was thick with lust and a hint of exasperation. “Let’s not give up yet,” he said, his hands moving to help her shift her weight. But as she tried to prop herself up again, the pillows beneath her slid completely out of place, and she collapsed back onto the bed with a frustrated groan.

They both froze for a moment, staring at each other, before bursting into laughter. His deep, resonant laugh mingled with her breathless giggles, the sound filling the room and easing the tension that had been building between them.

Lando leaned down, his forehead resting against hers as he caught his breath. “It’s not about the sex anyway,” he whispered, his voice soft and tender, his thumb brushing her cheek. His tone was sincere, but the teasing glint in his eyes betrayed him.

She rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched into a smile. “Speak for yourself,” she grumbled, already leaning in to kiss his jaw, her lips brushing against the stubble there. Her hands moved to his chest, fingers tracing the firm muscles beneath his skin. “I’m the one who’s been craving you all night,” she murmured against his neck, her voice low and needy. “I’m desperate, Lando. I need you. I need your dick.”

He groaned, his hands tightening on her hips as she shifted closer, her belly pressing against his side. “Fuck, Y/N,” he muttered, his voice rough with desire. “You’re killing me here.”

She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, her eyes filled with want. “Then stop teasing me,” she whispered, her voice trembling with desperation. “Please, Lando. I can’t wait anymore. I need you inside me.”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching hers, before letting out a shaky breath. “Okay, okay,” he said, his voice gentle but laced with urgency. “Let’s try this again. Slowly. Just… let me take care of you.”

She nodded, her breath hitching as he moved back between her legs, his hands guiding her hips into a more comfortable position. Their laughter had eased the tension, but now, as his cock brushed against her entrance, the urgency returned full force. She whimpered, her hips lifting slightly, silently begging him to take her. “Please,” she whispered again, her voice breaking. “I need you so much.”

And this time, he didn’t hesitate. He pushed into her slowly, inch by agonizing inch, until he was buried to the hilt. She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as the overwhelming sensation of him filled her completely. For a moment, they both just stayed like that, suspended in the intensity of the moment, before he began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate, drawing gasps and moans from her lips.

But then—again—the pillows slipped, and they both collapsed onto the bed, tangled in each other and laughing breathlessly. Lando shook his head, his chest heaving as he pressed a kiss to her temple. “We’re a mess,” he murmured, his voice warm with affection.

She grinned, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “Yeah, but we’re our mess,” she whispered, already feeling the warmth of his body seeping into hers. 

Y/N let out a frustrated sigh, her hands tugging at the hem of the oversized t-shirt she was still wearing. “This fucking thing,” she muttered, her voice laced with irritation as she tried to adjust it for the umpteenth time. It was bunched up awkwardly around her belly, the fabric clinging in all the wrong places. She glanced over at Lando, who was watching her with a mixture of amusement and desire in his eyes. “What?” she snapped, though there was no real bite to her tone.

“Nothing,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “You’re just… adorable when you’re annoyed.”

She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched into a smile. “Help me get this off,” she said, tugging at the shirt again. “It’s driving me insane.”

Lando didn’t need to be asked twice. He leaned in, his hands sliding up her sides under the fabric, his touch warm and electric against her skin. Slowly, he pulled the shirt up and over her head, tossing it onto the floor beside the bed. And there she was—finally completely naked, her pregnant body bathed in the soft glow of the lamplight.

Lando’s breath caught in his throat as he took her in, his eyes roaming over her with a hunger that made her shiver. Her breasts were fuller now, her nipples peaked and sensitive, and her belly was a beautiful, rounded curve that he couldn’t resist touching. His hand rested gently on her bump, his fingers tracing the smooth skin there before moving lower, teasingly close to where she needed him most.

“Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. Her hands reached for him, pulling him closer, her nails digging into his shoulders as she kissed him hungrily. “Please,” she murmured against his lips. “I need you. I need you so bad.”

He groaned, his cock twitching in response to her desperation. “Let’s try this,” he said, his voice rough with desire. He helped her shift to the edge of the bed, her legs spread wide to accommodate him. He stood between her legs, his hands gripping her hips to steady her as he positioned himself at her entrance.

For her, the sensation of his cock brushing against her was almost too much to bear. She was wet—achingly so—and the thought of him filling her again sent a wave of anticipation crashing through her. When he finally pushed inside her, the sensation was electric. The initial stretch was sharp, almost overwhelming, but then it melted into a deep, aching pleasure that spread through her entire body. God, he felt so good. Her walls clenched around him instinctively, drawing a low, guttural groan from his throat.

For Lando, it was pure bliss. Her tightness enveloped him, her warmth wrapping around his cock in a way that made his head spin. The wetness of her, the way her body seemed to cling to him, was almost too much to bear. He let out a shaky breath, his hands gripping her hips as he fought the urge to thrust into her with all the pent-up desire he’d been holding back. “You feel fucking incredible,” he gritted out, his voice strained. 

She moaned softly, her hips shifting slightly to take him deeper. The sensation of him filling her completely, the pressure and heat of him, was overwhelming. It was as if every nerve in her body was on fire, every touch, every movement, sending waves of pleasure crashing through her.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “You’re so perfect, Y/N. Every part of you.” His thrusts were slow and deliberate, each one drawing another gasp from her lips. She could feel the rhythm building between them, the tension tightening like a coil ready to snap.

She was desperate for him, her body trembling with the need to feel more of him, to be closer to him. Her hands gripped the edge of the bed, her nails digging into the mattress as she arched her back, offering herself to him completely. “Lando,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “Please… don’t stop. I need you so much.”

He groaned, his thrusts growing more urgent as he felt her desperation. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice rough with need. “I’ll always take care of you.” His hands moved to her breasts, his fingers brushing over her nipples, sending shivers of pleasure through her. She gasped, her head falling back as the sensations overwhelmed her.

“Your tits,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire as he leaned down to take one of her nipples into his mouth. She moaned, her hands tangling in his hair as he suckled gently, his tongue teasing her sensitive skin. The combination of his cock filling her and his mouth on her breast was almost too much to bear. She could feel herself teetering on the edge, the pleasure building to a crescendo.

“Lando, I’m close,” she gasped, her voice trembling. “Please… I’m so close.”

He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking with hers as he continued to thrust into her, his movements steady and deliberate. “Come for me, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice laced with urgency. “Let go. I want to feel you come around me.”

His words were all it took. Her orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave, her body trembling as pleasure radiated through her. Her walls clenched around him, milking his cock as she moaned his name, her voice breaking with the intensity of it.

For Lando, it was too much. The feeling of her pussy squeezing his cock, pulling him deeper into her, was unbearable. He let out a low, guttural groan, his thrusts growing erratic as he felt his own release building. “Fuck, Y/N,” he gritted out, his voice rough. “I’m going to… I’m going to come.”

She moaned softly, her body still quivering with the lingering waves of her climax as she felt Lando’s thrusts grow erratic, each one driving deeper into her. His hands—which had been gripping her hips with such possessive intensity—now roamed over her body, one sliding up to cup her breast while the other traced the curve of her belly. His fingers moved with a mix of reverence and desperation, as if he couldn’t get enough of her, even now.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groaned, his voice ragged and thick with need. “You feel… so fucking good.” His thumb brushed over her nipple, the touch sending a jolt of pleasure through her already oversensitive body. She gasped, arching into his hand as he leaned down to capture her lips in a messy, heated kiss.

She could feel him trembling above her, his control slipping as his thrusts became shallow and unsteady. “I’m gonna come,” he warned, his voice low and gravelly, his breath hot against her skin. His hips stuttered, and then he was spilling inside her, his cock pulsing as he filled her with his warmth. The sensation was overwhelming—intimate, possessive, and so fucking good. She clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders as he buried himself to the hilt, his release flooding her completely.

“Fuck, fuck,” he panted, his forehead resting against hers as he rode out the last waves of his orgasm. His hands roamed over her body, one cupping her breast while the other slid down to her hip, his touch grounding and possessive. “You’re fucking perfect,” he murmured, his voice rough and awed. “Every inch of you… I can’t get enough.”

She felt him softening inside her, but he didn’t pull away, instead staying connected to her, his hands continuing to explore her body with a tenderness that made her heart swell. His fingers traced the swell of her belly, then slid up to graze her nipple again, his touch feather-light and teasing. “So beautiful,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her temple. “I love you so fucking much.”

She sighed, her hands moving to cradle his face, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “I love you too,” she murmured, her voice soft but filled with the same intensity that had been between them all night. She pulled him closer, her lips brushing against his in a slow, tender kiss that spoke of everything they’d just shared—and everything they still had yet to discover.

[clara-a7]

Facetime || OP81

彡PAIRING ; Oscar Piastri x fem!reader

彡WARNINGS ; fluff

彡REQUESTED? ; No~ (requests are open!)

彡WORDS ; 934

彡DISCLAIMER ; Everything written here is FICTITIOUS.

彡AUTHOR'S NOTE ; I just wanted to write something fluffy after Oscar's win. It's not my best writing, but I hope you will like it!

Your phone buzzes the second you settle into bed, still grinning from the race you just finished watching. Oscar’s car crossing the line in P1, the crowd roaring in the background, his voice crackling through team radio, joy and disbelief tangled together.

FaceTime Incoming: Oscar🧡

You swipe to answer, anticipation rushing through you as the screen lights up.

His face fills the frame immediately. He’s still in his race suit, sweaty hair sticking out under a McLaren cap that’s tilted slightly to one side. A towel is draped around his neck from the post-race interviews. He’s exhausted, but there’s an unmistakable glow about him, the one you know so well, the one that only comes after a win.

And when he sees you, his eyes light up, brighter than anything else in the world.

“Hey, Champ” you tease, raising an eyebrow playfully.

He laughs, the sound wrapping around you like a warm hug. It makes your chest ache in the best possible way. “Not Champion yet”

“P1 today. Top of the standings. Sounds like a pretty solid start to me” you grin.

Oscar leans back against a wall in the garage, his eyes flicking over the screen, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he seems to double-check that you’re actually there, that you’re not just a figment of his imagination. “It feels insane” he says, his voice tinged with wonder. “I still can’t believe it”

“I can” you reply easily, letting your smile slip into something warmer. “I’ve believed in you since your Formula 3 days”

He chuckles, his eyes lighting up again. “You’ve been saying that for ages, haven’t you?”

“I knew you were capable of it” you say, giving him a teasing wink.

“You watched the whole race?”

“Obviously” you say, feigning offense. “I screamed when you took the lead. I’m pretty sure I woke up half the street”

He laughs, that deep, boyish laugh that always makes you feel like everything is going to be okay. “That explains the noise I heard from the car”

There’s a moment of silence, but it’s comfortable. The kind of silence you two share, where words aren’t necessary, and yet everything feels a little more profound because you’re both there connected, even through a screen.

He shifts the phone slightly, as if trying to get a better look at you, like you’re the calm after the storm, the one person he can lean on after everything.

“You know” he says, more quietly now, “every time I win, I think it’s gonna start to feel... normal. But it never does”

You nod slowly, your heart squeezing a little at the vulnerability in his voice. “That’s because you’re not just racing anymore. You’re fighting for the whole thing now”

Oscar exhales softly, and you can almost feel the weight of everything he’s been carrying. “Yeah. I guess I am” His gaze never leaves yours.

You can hear the pride in his voice, but there’s something softer underneath it, too. Not doubt, but the quiet realization of how far he’s come and the responsibility that comes with it.

“And I’m not gonna lie” he adds, his voice lowering slightly, “being up here, top of the board, after everything... I kinda wish you were the first person I saw when I got out of the car”

Your chest tightens, the words hitting you harder than you expected. It’s not just about a race win. It’s about everything they’ve been through together, every moment where he’s pushed forward, every time he’s crossed a finish line with her in his thoughts. It’s about his journey and the way it always circles back to you.

“I wish that too” you whisper, your voice soft but full of meaning.

“I heard the cheers, saw all the orange in the stands, the fireworks... but it still didn’t feel real until I saw you” he says, his voice full of emotion, the weight of the moment obvious.

Your heart swells, and you can’t help but smile, even though the lump in your throat threatens to choke you up. “Oscar—”

“I know,” he interrupts, smiling sheepishly. “I’m getting sappy.”

“You’ve earned it” you say, your voice light but full of affection. “Go ahead. You’ve got every right to be”

“I will” he says, a playful glint returning to his eyes, but it doesn’t quite mask the warmth that still lingers there. “But next time, I really need you trackside, okay? No more excuses”

“I’ll buy my own ticket” you joke. “Just tell me when and where.”

He laughs, that deep, genuine laugh that always makes you feel like he’s just here with you, no matter how far away he actually is. “Deal. We’ll make it official”

Another voice calls out in the background, muffled and distant, but Oscar doesn’t look away from the screen. He lets the moment stretch for just a few seconds longer, as if savoring it. Then, with a reluctant glance toward the chaos behind him, he sighs.

“I’ll call you later tonight” he promises.

“I’ll be waiting” you say, your heart light and full. There’s something about the way he says it like he’s already thinking of how he’ll make up for the distance, how he’ll carve out time just for you.

“Love you”

“Love you more”

He doesn’t say goodbye. Instead, he gives you one last look the kind that says more than any podium interview ever could, more than words could ever capture. And then the screen goes dark.

The call ends, but the warmth stays, like he never really put the phone down.

✿彡did you enjoy this? comments, likes, and reblogs are immensely appreciatedミ✿

© clara-a7 - all rights reserved.

[harrysfolklore]

grumpy - op81

summary: oscar is always grumpy, never smiles and claims not to want any friends. yn is determined to crack his armor no matter how much he tries to push her away word count: 8.4k + social media posts

folkie radio: NEW LONG FIC !! i wrote the first bit of this fic a while ago and i picked it up and this was the result, i really hope you like it. let me know your thoughts

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Oscar didn't want to be at this party. The pulsing music, the crowd of unfamiliar faces, and the overwhelming sensory assault of flashing lights and laughter grated on his nerves. He stood in a corner, nursing a drink he hadn't really wanted, wondering how long he needed to stay before he could politely excuse himself.

Lando had been excited about this joint birthday celebration for weeks. He'd explained to Oscar that he'd reconnected with an old childhood friend who, by some cosmic coincidence, shared his exact birthdate. Oscar had been surprised when Lando told him about it; he'd never heard of this friend before. But then again, there was a lot about Lando's life outside of racing that Oscar didn't know.

Oscar's eyes scanned the room, searching for a familiar face. He spotted Lando in the center of a laughing group, his arm slung casually around a girl Oscar assumed must be the co-host of this ridiculously extravagant party.

He couldn't recall if Lando had ever shown him a picture of this mysterious childhood friend. The invitations Lando had sent out mentioned her name - YN - but Oscar had paid little attention to the details. Racing consumed most of his thoughts, and social events like this were far from his priority list.

The girl standing next to Lando was pretty, Oscar noted absently, with an easy smile that seemed to light up those around her. She laughed at something Lando said, throwing her head back in genuine laughter. Oscar found himself wondering if this was the famed YN, but he couldn't be sure. There were so many people here, and Lando seemed to know them all.

Lost in his observations and internal musings, Oscar didn't notice someone approaching until a voice piped up beside him. "Not much for parties, huh?"

Lost in his observations and internal thoughts, Oscar didn't notice someone approaching until a voice piped up beside him. "Not much for parties, huh?"

He turned to find another girl standing next to him, her eyes twinkling with amusement. She was attractive too, he couldn't help but notice, with flowing hair and a smile that seemed genuine rather than the forced pleasantries he was used to at such events.

Oscar shrugged, not particularly in the mood for small talk. "Not really my scene," he replied, his tone cooler than the drink in his hand.

He glanced back at Lando and the girl he was with, then back to the newcomer. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if this might be YN, but he quickly dismissed the thought. Surely, the birthday girl would be at the center of attention, not chatting up grumpy partygoers in the corner.

The girl, not minding his frosty response, leaned against the wall next to him. "I get that. These big bashes can be overwhelming. But hey, the night's still young, right? Maybe it'll grow on you."

Oscar raised an eyebrow, his voice tinged with sarcasm. "Doubtful. I'm only here because Lando insisted."

"Oh?" the girl prompted, seeming genuinely interested despite Oscar's clear lack of enthusiasm. "You're friends with Lando then?"

"Teammates," Oscar corrected, taking a sip of his drink. "In Formula 1."

"That must be exciting!" the girl's eyes lit up, "I've always been fascinated by racing. The speed, the strategy, the teamwork… it's like a high-stakes chess game on wheels."

Despite himself, Oscar felt a flicker of interest. It wasn't often he met someone outside the racing world who seemed to genuinely appreciate the sport. But he squashed the feeling, determined to maintain his grumpy demeanor.

"It's just a job," he said flatly. "Not all it's cracked up to be."

"Well, aren't you a ray of sunshine?" the girl laughed, the sound warm and melodious. "Do you know the birthday girl, by the way?"

Oscar's frown deepened at the mention of the birthday girl.

"No, and honestly, I couldn't care less," he said bluntly. "I'm just here for Lando. In fact, I'm seriously considering leaving already. This whole thing is just… too much."

The girl's eyebrows raised slightly, but her smile didn't falter. "Oh? What makes you say that?"

Oscar, emboldened by the anonymity he assumed he had with this stranger, decided to let loose. "Where do I even start? First off, this music is atrocious. It's just noise. Who even picked this playlist?"

"Not a fan of pop, I take it?" the girl chuckled, shaking her head.

"Not when it's blasting at eardrum-shattering levels," Oscar grumbled. He gestured around the room. "And look at all these people. Half of them probably don't even know Lando or this girl. It's just a crowd of random people here for the free drinks and the chance to rub elbows with a Formula 1 driver."

The girl nodded, her eyes twinkling with what Oscar failed to recognize as suppressed laughter. "I see. Anything else bothering you?"

Oscar was on a roll now.

"It's probably all because of this other girl who thought it would be a brilliant idea to have a joint birthday party with a Formula 1 driver. I mean, who does that? It's like she's using Lando for the publicity or something, because I've been Lando's teammate for a year and I've never heard of her util now. This whole thing is over the top. The decorations look like a McLaren gift shop exploded in here. And don't get me started on that ridiculous cake I saw earlier."

Throughout Oscar's rant, the girl beside him simply listened, nodding occasionally and biting her lip as if trying not to laugh. When he finally paused for breath, she said, "Wow, you've really given this a lot of thought. It must be tough, being surrounded by all this… excess."

Oscar sighed, suddenly feeling a bit sheepish about his outburst. "I just… I don't get it, you know? Why make such a big deal out of a birthday?"

The girl's smile softened. "Maybe because birthdays are worth celebrating? Especially when you can share them with friends – old and new."

Before Oscar could respond, a familiar voice cut through the noise of the party. "YN! There you are! It's time for the cake!"

Oscar's head snapped up to see Lando weaving through the crowd, heading straight for them. His eyes widened as realization dawned, a mixture of embarrassment and disbelief washing over him.

The girl – YN – turned back to Oscar, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Duty calls," she said with a wink. "It was nice chatting with you, Oscar. Thanks for your honest feedback on my terrible music taste, my excessive decorations, and my 'brilliant' idea to share a birthday party with my childhood friend. Maybe next time you're at a party, try to enjoy it a little? You might be surprised."

As YN walked away to join Lando, leaving Oscar rooted to the spot, he couldn't help but feel a wave of mortification wash over him. He had just spent the better part of an hour criticizing various aspects of the party to one of the hosts herself. And not just any host – Lando's childhood friend, the girl whose birthday they were also celebrating.

Oscar watched as YN and Lando made their way to the center of the room, where the enormous cake he had mocked earlier was being wheeled out.

As YN and Lando took their places in front of the extravagant cake, the crowd began to gather around them to sing Happy Birthday. Oscar, still reeling from his embarrassing revelation, found himself shuffling closer to the center of the room, trying to blend in with the crowd.

As the song concluded, Lando stepped forward, raising a hand to quiet the crowd. He cleared his throat and began to speak, his voice filled with warmth and excitement.

"Thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate with us," Lando started, grinning widely. "YN and I have known each other since we were kids, and it's always been a bit of a joke between us that we share a birthday. Who would've thought we'd end up throwing a joint party like this years later?" He paused as the crowd chuckled. "YN, you've been an amazing friend all these years, and I'm so glad we reconnected. Here's to many more birthdays together!"

The crowd applauded as Lando raised his glass in a toast. Then, to Oscar's mounting dread, Lando handed the microphone to YN.

YN took the mic with a smile, her eyes scanning the room before landing on Oscar. He swallowed hard, wondering if she was about to call him out in front of everyone.

"Thanks, Lando," YN began, her voice warm and filled with amusement. "And thank you all for being here tonight. It means so much to see so many familiar faces… and some new ones too." Her eyes twinkled as she glanced at Oscar again. "You know, planning this party was quite an adventure. We wanted to make sure everyone would enjoy themselves… well, almost everyone."

Oscar felt his face grow hot as a few people near him chuckled, clearly not realizing the jab was directed at him.

"And now, let's cut into this 'ridiculous' cake I picked out. After that, feel free to enjoy more of our apparently ear-shattering music. Who knows? It might just grow on you!"

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by landonorris, lilymhe and 109,847 others

yourinstagram when you share your birthday with your childhood bestie who happens to be an f1 driver… you go BIG or go home! thank you @/landonorris for the most incredible joint celebration ever! from the "atrocious" music to the "ridiculous" cake, every moment was perfect 😉 and thanks to everyone who came - even those who stayed in the corner judging my party planning skills. here's to another year of chaos!

view all comments

username1 SLAAAAY

username2 omg lando celebrated BIG this year

landonorris Best joint birthday ever! Thank you for being one of my best friends ever

charles_leclerc The music was actually great! Don't listen to the haters

username3 I NEED TO PARTY WITH LANDOOOO

username4 imagine being lando's childhood friend and sharing your birthday with him THE DREAM

iamrebeccad That cake was anything but ridiculous! Still dreaming about it 🎂

username6 why do I feel like there's a story behind those quotation marks…

username7 Still can't believe you pulled this off! Best birthday party ever!

username8 there's an inside joke we're missing

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Oscar was making his way through the paddock when he spotted her. YN was chatting with Lando near the McLaren garage, wearing team merchandise and looking completely at ease in an environment that was supposed to be his territory. His stomach did an uncomfortable flip - a reaction he immediately attributed to embarrassment from their last encounter, nothing more.

He quickly turned around, hoping to avoid another interaction. The last thing he needed before qualifying was to be reminded of how he'd made a complete fool of himself at that party. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

"Oscar!" Lando's voice called out. "Come here, mate!"

Oscar suppressed a groan, plastering what he hoped was a neutral expression on his face as he approached them. YN turned to face him, that same amused smile from the party playing on her lips. He hated how his heart skipped a beat - clearly just residual embarrassment, he assured himself.

"Hey, grumpy," she greeted cheerfully. "Ready for qualifying?"

Oscar's jaw tightened. Something about her easy demeanor, the way she seemed so unfazed by their previous interaction, irritated him. Or maybe what really irritated him was how much he'd thought about that interaction over the past two weeks.

"Just focused on the session," he replied curtly, trying to ignore the way her eyes seemed to see right through his cold exterior.

"YN's going to be hanging around this weekend," Lando explained, either oblivious to or ignoring the tension. "I thought it'd be cool to show her around."

Great, Oscar thought. Just what he needed - another distraction. He'd caught himself checking her Instagram more times than he cared to admit since the party, telling himself he was just curious about what she'd posted about that night. The fact that he'd spent an embarrassing amount of time looking at her other photos was something he refused to analyze.

"How exciting," Oscar deadpanned. "The glamorous world of Formula 1. I'm sure you'll love all the noise and chaos."

YN's smile didn't falter. "Oh, I don't mind noise when it has a purpose. Race car engines are quite different from 'atrocious' party music, wouldn't you agree?"

Oscar felt his cheeks warm at the reference to his party complaints. The memory of that night had been replaying in his head for two weeks - how she'd stood there letting him rant, those knowing eyes twinkling with amusement. How different would things have been if he'd known who she was from the start? Would he have actually tried to enjoy himself? Would he not think about his ex for half of the night?

Because that was his reality, he thought about his ex more than he cared to admit that he did.

"I should go prepare for qualifying," he muttered, turning to leave, trying to escape both her presence and his confusing thoughts.

"Wait," YN called after him. "I actually wanted to apologize."

This made Oscar pause, turning back with a confused frown. "Apologize?" His heart was doing that annoying skipping thing again.

"Yes," she nodded. "I should have introduced myself properly at the party instead of letting you vent. It was a bit mean to let you go on like that without telling you who I was."

Her sincerity caught him off guard. He'd spent two weeks convinced she must think he was a complete jerk, and here she was apologizing to him? It didn't make sense. None of this made sense - including the way his pulse quickened when she smiled at him.

"Right. Well, no harm done. If you'll excuse me…" He needed to get away. Now. Before these unwanted feelings got any more confused.

"I made you a playlist," YN continued, her eyes twinkling. "All non-atrocious songs, I promise. Thought it might help with your pre-race preparation."

She held out her phone, showing a Spotify playlist titled "For Grumpy F1 Drivers Who Hate Fun." The fact that she'd taken the time to make him a playlist, even as a joke, did something strange to his chest.

Lando burst out laughing. "Oh mate, she's got you there!"

Oscar stared at the playlist, his expression hardening. The championship battle was too tight, the pressure too intense for these kinds of distractions. They were so close to securing the constructor's championship. He couldn't afford to let anything break his focus, especially not some girl who seemed determined to get under his skin.

"I don't need a playlist," he said, his voice sharper than before. "What I need is to focus on qualifying. We're fighting for a championship here. This isn't some game."

YN's smile faltered slightly, but she maintained her composure. "Right, of course. The championship."

"Yeah, the championship," Oscar continued, his tone cold and professional. "Something that requires actual focus and dedication, not parties and playlists. So if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

"Oscar, mate," Lando started, looking uncomfortable, but Oscar cut him off.

"No, Lando. You might be comfortable mixing your personal life with racing, but I'm not. I'm here to win, not to socialize." He turned to YN, his expression neutral but his eyes hard. "Enjoy your weekend at the track."

He turned and walked away, his steps quick and purposeful. Behind him, he could hear Lando apologizing to YN, but he forced himself not to care.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Oscar sat on the edge of his hotel bed, his phone illuminated with photos he should have deleted months ago. Lily's smile beamed back at him through the screen - holidays in Melbourne, race weekends, quiet moments at home. Four years of memories he couldn't seem to let go of.

"This is pathetic," he muttered, tossing his phone aside. The Vegas skyline glittered beyond his window, a stark contrast to his dark mood. The text from Lando about the drivers' party at some upscale club sat unanswered on his phone.

He ran his hands through his hair, feeling the familiar weight of loneliness settle in his chest. Lily had ended things right before the season started, claiming she couldn't handle the distance anymore. The truth was, she'd found someone else - someone who wasn't away racing cars most of the year.

The thought of sitting alone in his hotel room on a Saturday night in Las Vegas, scrolling through old photos of his ex, made him cringe. Even Alex, who usually preferred quiet nights after races, was going to the party.

"Fuck it," he declared to his empty room, standing up abruptly. He'd rather feel uncomfortable at a party than feel sorry for himself.

The club was exactly as he expected - loud, crowded, and dripping with excess. He spotted several drivers immediately: Lewis holding court in a VIP section, Max and Kelly laughing with Charles, Alex and George arguing about something while Franco watched in amusement.

Then he saw her. YN was wearing a silver dress that caught the light, making her look like she belonged among the glittering Vegas lights. She was chatting with Lando and Carlos, her head thrown back in laughter at something Carlos had said.

Oscar ordered a drink and found a quiet corner, trying to ignore the way his eyes kept drifting back to her. Their last interaction in the paddock hadn't been great - he'd been cold, dismissive. Yet here she was, seemingly unbothered, lighting up the room with that easy smile of hers.

"Didn't expect to see you here," her voice suddenly came from beside him. He hadn't noticed her approach.

"I live to surprise," he replied flatly, taking a sip of his drink.

YN leaned against the wall next to him, mirroring their positions from her birthday party. "You look about as thrilled to be here as you did at my party."

"If you've come to mock me again-"

"I haven't," she cut him off, her voice gentle. "I actually came to see if you're okay. You seem… different tonight."

Oscar tensed. Was he that transparent? "I'm fine."

"You know, it's okay not to be okay sometimes," she said softly. "Even Formula 1 drivers are allowed to have bad days."

He looked at her then, really looked at her. There was no trace of mockery in her expression, just genuine concern. It made something in his chest ache.

"I don't need your pity," he said, but his voice lacked its usual bite.

"Good, because I'm not offering any," YN replied. "I'm offering friendship. Or at least a dance partner who won't judge your moves too harshly."

Despite himself, Oscar felt the corner of his mouth twitch. "My moves are fine."

"Prove it then," she challenged, pushing off the wall and holding out her hand.

Oscar stared at her outstretched hand, feeling the weight of his phone in his pocket - the one still full of photos of Lily. He thought about his empty hotel room, about scrolling through memories of a relationship that was long over.

"I don't dance," he said finally, his tone cooling again. "And I'm not interested in whatever this is."

YN's hand dropped slowly, but her eyes remained kind. "Okay," she said simply. "But if you change your mind about either - the dancing or the friendship - I'll be around."

She turned to leave, pausing only to add, "You deserve to be happy, Oscar. Even if you don't believe it right now."

Oscar watched her disappear into the crowd, his drink suddenly tasting bitter in his mouth. He pulled out his phone, thumb hovering over his photo gallery. After a moment's hesitation, he opened his settings instead.

"Delete all photos?" the prompt asked.

He pressed yes before he could change his mind.

It wasn't much, but it was a start.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by username1, username2 and 12,958 others

f1gossip SWIPE to see Lily Zneimer (Oscar Piastri's ex) hard-launching her new relationship! 👀 After 4 years with the McLaren driver, she's officially moved on. Lily shared multiple pics on her Instagram with the caption "Finally found my perfect match ❤️"

view all comments

username1 the way she waited until oscar had a good race weekend to post this… calculated af 💀

username2 "perfect match" girl you dated an f1 driver… downgrade much?

username3 anyone else notice she limited her comments? 👀 guilty conscience maybe??

username4 oscar deserves better anyway, he's so focused this season!

username5 well this explains why oscar's been in his villain era all season

username6 her loss tbh oscar's having his best season yet

username7 the way she's trying to make it seem like they just met… girl we all saw you commenting on his posts since last year 🙄

username8 imagine breaking up with oscar piastri… couldn't be me

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The Monaco streets were quieter than usual at 6 AM, which was exactly why Oscar had chosen this time for his run. His feet pounded against the pavement in rhythm with the aggressive beats flooding his headphones, trying to drown out the thoughts of Lily's Instagram post that had been haunting him since last night.

Perfect match. The words echoed in his head, mocking him. Four years, and she'd replaced him so easily.

He pushed himself harder, taking the hill towards Casino Square at a punishing pace. The physical exertion wasn't enough to quiet his mind, but at least-

"Oscar!"

He ignored the voice, assuming it was meant for someone else.

"Oscar! Hey!"

The voice was closer now. Persistent. Familiar. He yanked out one earbud, turning around with an irritated scowl that only deepened when he saw who it was. YN was jogging towards him, wearing running gear and looking annoyingly fresh despite the steep incline.

"What the fuck?" he snapped when she caught up. "Are you following me now?"

YN raised an eyebrow, barely winded. "Don't flatter yourself, Piastri. I was already running when I spotted you."

"You don't even live here." His heart was racing, and he told himself it was just from the run.

"Staying with Lando," she shrugged, falling into step beside him despite his obvious displeasure. "He's got a spare room."

Oscar stopped abruptly, turning to face her. The morning sun caught her face in a way that made her eyes look impossibly bright. He pushed that observation away immediately. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what? Running?"

"This," he gestured between them, frustration evident in his voice. "Being… nice. Showing up everywhere. Trying to talk to me. I don't like you, okay? I don't want to be friends. I don't want whatever this is."

YN studied him for a moment, completely unfazed by his hostility. "You know, for someone who doesn't like me, you spend an awful lot of energy trying to convince me of that fact."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," she said, stretching her arms above her head casually, "that if you really didn't like me, you wouldn't care enough to tell me repeatedly. You'd just ignore me."

The logic in her statement irritated him more than her presence. She had a point, but he'd rather run up this hill ten more times than admit it.

"I prefer running alone," he said flatly, trying to ignore how his stomach did a weird flip when she smiled at him.

"Cool. Me too, usually." She grinned. "But sometimes life throws you unexpected running partners. Kind of like unexpected friendships."

"We're not friends."

"Not yet," she agreed cheerfully. "Race you to the casino?"

Before he could protest, she took off up the hill, her ponytail swinging with each stride. Oscar stood there for a moment, torn between irritation and something else he refused to name. The morning light cast long shadows across the street, and he watched her figure getting smaller as she climbed the hill.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered to himself, but his feet were already moving, chasing after her up the winding street.

He told himself it was just his competitive nature, that he couldn't let her win. It had nothing to do with how her presence somehow made his chest feel lighter, or how the morning felt less lonely with her there.

They reached Casino Square nearly neck and neck, both breathing hard. The square was empty except for a few early morning workers, the famous casino building looming above them in the soft morning light.

"Not bad, Piastri," YN panted, hands on her knees. "But I totally had you on that last corner."

"You cut me off," he accused, trying to catch his breath.

"Did not! I took the racing line," she grinned, mimicking his Australian accent on the last two words.

Despite himself, a laugh escaped Oscar's lips before he could stop it.

YN's eyes lit up triumphantly. "There! You laughed!" She pointed at him accusingly. "You actually laughed! Quick, someone alert the press - Oscar Piastri has emotions other than grumpy and grumpier!"

Oscar immediately tried to school his features back into their usual scowl, but he could feel the corners of his mouth fighting to turn upward. "Shut up," he muttered, but there was no real heat in it.

"Make me," she challenged, starting to jog backwards. "Come on, one more lap around Monaco? Unless you're scared I'll beat you again…"

Oscar felt something shift in his chest, a crack in the walls he'd built so carefully. He blamed it on the endorphins from running, on the early morning air, on anything but the way her smile made him want to smile back.

"In your dreams," he called out, already moving to chase after her.

And if he was smiling as they ran through the empty streets of Monaco, well, there was no one else around to see it anyway.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

YN burst through Lando's front door, still riding the runner's high from her morning excursion. She found him in the kitchen, bleary-eyed and hunched over a cup of coffee, his hair sticking up in every direction.

"Morning, sunshine," she chirped, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge.

"Why are you so… awake?" Lando groaned, squinting at her. "It's inhuman."

"Guess who I ran into?" She hopped onto the kitchen counter, grinning. "Your grumpy teammate. And - wait for it - I actually made him laugh!"

Lando's spoon clattered against his mug. "Oscar? Laughed?"

"I know, right? I mean, it was more like a surprised laugh that he tried to take back immediately, but still. Progress!" She took a long drink of water. "I don't get why he's so… intense all the time. Like, I know F1 drivers are serious, but he takes it to another level."

Lando's expression shifted, something like concern crossing his face. "Ah, right. You don't know."

"Don't know what?"

"About the breakup."

YN stopped mid-sip. "Breakup?"

Lando set his coffee down, suddenly looking more awake. "His girlfriend - well, ex-girlfriend now - Lily. They were together for four years. She ended things right before the season started."

"Oh," YN said quietly, her earlier enthusiasm deflating. "I had no idea."

"Yeah, it was…" Lando ran a hand through his already messy hair. "It was pretty rough. They had this whole life planned out, you know? She moved to Monaco for him when he got the McLaren seat. They were talking about getting married eventually."

"What happened?"

"She met someone else," Lando said grimly. "Some business guy in Sydney or something. Oscar found out when he got back from winter training. She'd already moved her stuff out."

YN felt her stomach sink. "That's horrible."

"Yeah. And the worst part? She posted about her new relationship yesterday. All these loved-up photos, calling the guy her 'perfect match' and everything." Lando shook his head. "Oscar saw it last night. That's probably why he was out running so early."

"Shit," YN whispered, remembering how she'd teased him about being grumpy. "I feel awful now. I've been giving him such a hard time about being antisocial."

"You didn't know," Lando assured her. "And honestly? You getting him to laugh is kind of huge. He's been… different since it happened. Throws himself into racing, barely socializes. The only time I see him smile is on podiums."

YN thought about Oscar's surprised laugh in Casino Square, how quickly he'd tried to hide it. "Four years is a long time."

"Yeah," Lando agreed. "And they were good together, you know? Or we all thought they were. She was at every race, knew everyone in the paddock. When she left…" He trailed off, taking a sip of coffee. "Let's just say there's a reason he keeps people at arm's length now."

YN slid off the counter, her earlier victory feeling hollow now. "I should probably back off then. Give him space."

Lando looked at her thoughtfully. "Actually… maybe don't?"

"What?"

"It's just…" Lando set his mug down, choosing his words carefully. "That was the first time you've mentioned him laughing since January. Maybe what he needs isn't more space. Maybe he needs someone who won't let him push them away."

YN thought about Oscar's determined scowl that morning, how it had softened just slightly when she'd challenged him to another lap. "I don't know, Lando…"

"Just… be yourself," Lando suggested. "You've already cracked the grumpy exterior once. And Oscar… he's a good guy. He just needs to remember there's more to life than proving his ex wrong."

YN nodded slowly, her mind going back to their morning run. She thought about the way Oscar had tried not to smile, how his eyes had lit up during their race to the casino despite his best efforts to remain stoic.

"Okay," she said finally. "But if he murders me for being annoying, I'm haunting you first."

Lando grinned. "Deal. Now please tell me you're making those pancakes you promised yesterday."

"Only if you tell me more about this grumpy teammate of yours."

"Oh, I've got stories," Lando laughed. "Let me tell you about the time he got lost in Singapore…"

As YN moved around Lando's kitchen gathering pancake ingredients, she couldn't help but think about Oscar, wondering if he was still running through the streets of Monaco, trying to outrun memories of a relationship that had shaped the last four years of his life.

She understood his coldness better now, but somehow, that only made her more determined to break through it.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by username1, username2 and 10,983 others

f1gossip SPOTTED: Oscar Piastri jogging around Monaco with mysterious girl ! Sources say they were laughing and racing each other around 👀

view all comments

username1 OHHHH

username2 WHO IS THIS

username3 oscar healing era we love to see it

username4 isn't this lando's friend? the one he shares the same bday with

userame5 THIS IS YNNNN lando's bday twin

username6 OSC BOYFRIEND ERA AGAIN??

username7 cry lily zneimer

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Oscar stared at his phone screen, the message he'd sent to Lily still showing just one gray checkmark. Not delivered. He'd blocked her months ago, but last night, in a moment of weakness (and perhaps too much room service wine), he'd unblocked her number.

"I hope you're happy," he'd texted. Four simple words that made him feel pathetic now in the harsh light of day.

Of course she'd changed her number. Of course she hadn't responded. What had he expected? That she'd suddenly remember all their plans, their shared dreams, their life in Monaco? That she'd realize her Sydney finance dude wasn't her "perfect match" after all?

He tossed his phone onto the hotel bed, disgusted with himself. Four years of his life, and here he was, still orbiting around her like a satellite that didn't know its planet had disappeared. The worst part was, he wasn't even sure if he still loved her or if he was just haunted by the future they'd planned.

The Qatar paddock was already buzzing with activity when he arrived, the air conditioning doing little to combat the oppressive heat. He had an engineering briefing in ten minutes, and he needed to focus on the race weekend, not on unanswered texts to ex-girlfriends.

Then he spotted her. YN was chatting animatedly with Carlos near the Ferrari garage, wearing a McLaren team shirt that he suspected was Lando's. Her hair was pulled back in a loose braid, and she was gesturing enthusiastically about something, making Carlos laugh. She looked so at ease, so comfortable in this world that had taken him years to navigate.

Oscar immediately turned around, hoping to duck into the McLaren hospitality without being noticed.

"Oscar!"

No such luck.

He kept walking, pretending he hadn't heard her. The sound of quick footsteps behind him told him his escape attempt had failed.

"Hey, grumpy!" YN fell into step beside him, seemingly unbothered by his obvious attempt to avoid her. "Still maintaining your daily scowl quota, I see."

"Don't you have somewhere else to be?" he asked coldly, not slowing his pace.

"Probably. But bothering you is much more fun." She grinned, matching his stride effortlessly. "You know, most people say good morning when they see someone."

"I'm not most people. We're not anything."

"Still stuck on that 'we're not friends' thing? Even after our romantic morning run in Monaco?"

He tensed, acutely aware of the heads turning in their direction. Since their morning run in Monaco, social media had been buzzing with speculation. F1 fan accounts had somehow gotten hold of a blurry photo of them running through Casino Square, and the paddock rumor mill had been working overtime. The last thing he needed was more fuel for those fires, especially not when his embarrassing text to Lily was still fresh in his mind.

"Stop," he cut her off, pulling them both to a halt in a quieter section of the paddock. "This needs to stop."

"What needs to stop?"

"This. You. Being everywhere." His voice was low, controlled, but inside he was a mess of conflicting emotions. The ghost of his unanswered text message haunted him, making him feel vulnerable and defensive. "People are talking. They saw us in Monaco."

YN's smile faltered slightly, but her eyes remained kind. "And? We went for a run. Last I checked, that wasn't a crime."

"You don't get it," he said, frustration seeping into his tone. "I don't need this right now. I don't need people speculating or making assumptions." I don't need to feel things I'm not ready to feel, he added silently.

Understanding dawned in her eyes. "Are you afraid your ex might see?"

The question hit too close to home, especially after his pathetic attempt at reaching out to Lily. His jaw clenched. "You don't know anything about me."

"I know you're letting someone who left you control your life," YN said quietly, her words cutting through his defenses with surgical precision. "I know you're so afraid of getting hurt again that you'd rather push everyone away."

"Don't," he warned, his voice sharp. "You don't get to analyze me. You don't get to act like you understand anything about my life just because Lando told you some story." The fact that she could read him so easily only made him more defensive.

"I'm not-"

"We're not friends," he continued, his words precise and cutting. "That morning in Monaco was a mistake. I was…" Vulnerable, lonely, weak. "…it doesn't matter. Just stay away from me."

He turned to leave, his phone feeling like a lead weight in his pocket, the unanswered text message a reminder of everything he was trying to forget.

"You know what I think?" YN called after him, her voice carrying across the paddock. "I think you're not actually afraid of what she might see. I think you're afraid of what might happen if you stop letting her ghost rule your life. And you know what the saddest part is? You're so focused on pushing people away, you don't even notice who's trying to stay."

Oscar didn't turn around, but his shoulders tensed. Her words hit home with devastating accuracy, making his chest tight. Without another word, he walked away, leaving YN standing alone in the sweltering Qatar heat.

But as he headed into the briefing, YN's words kept playing in his mind: "You're so focused on pushing people away, you don't even notice who's trying to stay."

The worst part was, he was starting to wonder if she was right.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The private jet hummed quietly as they crossed over Saudi airspace. Oscar kept fidgeting with his phone, refreshing Instagram for the tenth time in as many minutes. Another photo of Lily, another glimpse of her perfect new life without him.

"If you stare at that screen any harder, it might actually burst into flames," YN's voice cut through his thoughts.

Oscar locked his phone quickly, jaw tightening. "Mind your own business."

From across the aisle, Lando pretended to be absorbed in his game, but Oscar could see him watching their interaction from the corner of his eye.

"Want to talk about it?" YN asked softly, closing her book.

"No."

"Want to keep brooding dramatically while pretending you're not stalking your ex's Instagram?"

Oscar's head snapped up. "I'm not-"

"You've refreshed that page twelve times in the last hour. I've been counting."

"Why are you even watching me?"

"Hard not to when you're sighing like a sad protagonist in a period drama."

Despite himself, Oscar felt the corner of his mouth twitch. YN caught it immediately.

"Was that almost a smile? Quick, Lando, document this rare occurrence!"

"Leave me out of this," Lando mumbled, though he was clearly fighting back a grin.

Oscar tried to maintain his scowl, but YN's theatrical gasping was making it difficult. "You're ridiculous."

"And you," she pointed at him, "are coming out with me tomorrow night."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you need to get out of your hotel room, and I know for a fact you don't have any plans besides rewatching her stories and making yourself miserable."

"I don't-"

"You know what?" YN continued, leaning forward in her seat. "We're going to that new rooftop bar at the W. You're going to wear something that isn't team gear, you're going to have at least two drinks, and you're going to remember what it's like to actually enjoy yourself."

"And if I say no?"

"You won't," she said confidently. "Because deep down, you know I'm right. Also, I've already told Lando he's coming too."

"Traitor," Oscar muttered at his teammate.

Lando shrugged. "She's very persuasive. Also, slightly terrifying."

"So?" YN raised an eyebrow at Oscar. "What's it going to be? Another night of Instagram stalking, or actually living your life?"

Oscar looked between her determined face and his phone, still dark in his hand. The thought of another night alone with his thoughts was suddenly exhausting.

"Fine," he said finally. "But I'm not dancing."

"We'll see about that," YN grinned triumphantly. "Now, hand over your phone."

"What? No."

"Yes. Consider it confiscated until we land. Doctor's orders."

"You're not a doctor."

"No, but I am your friend, whether you like it or not. Phone. Now."

Maybe it was the altitude, or the way she said 'friend' so matter-of-factly, or just the sheer exhaustion of maintaining his walls, but Oscar found himself holding out his phone.

"Just until we land," he warned.

"Of course," YN agreed, tucking it into her bag. "Now, want to hear about the time I accidentally locked Lando in his own garage?"

"That was YOU?" Lando's head shot up from his game.

"In my defense, I thought you were already at the track…"

As YN launched into the story, Oscar felt something in his chest loosen slightly. He wasn't ready to admit it yet, but maybe - just maybe - she had a point about living his life again.

"…and that's why Lando now triple-checks every door before closing it," YN finished, making Lando groan.

"I knew it wasn't a 'random malfunction,'" he accused.

Oscar found himself actually laughing, the sound surprising even himself.

"There it is," YN said softly, her eyes meeting his. "That's the guy I'm taking out tomorrow night."

And for once, Oscar didn't argue.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

texts between lando and yn

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Oscar stood in front of his hotel mirror, already regretting the black button-down shirt he'd chosen. His phone buzzed with a message from Lando: "Sorry mate, stomach's not great. Going to skip tonight. You two have fun ;)"

The winky face made Oscar's jaw clench. He immediately typed back: "Not going if you're not."

Lando's reply was instant: "Yes you are. YN will murder me if you bail."

As if on cue, there was a knock at his door. Oscar considered pretending he wasn't in, but-

"I can hear you overthinking from out here, Piastri!" YN's voice carried through the door. "Open up!"

Sighing, he opened the door to find her leaning against the frame, wearing a simple black dress that made him suddenly very aware of his heartbeat.

"Lando's not coming," he said immediately.

"I know, he texted me." She stepped into his room uninvited. "We're still going."

"I don't think-"

"Nope," she cut him off. "You're not bailing. You're dressed, you look nice, and I'm not letting you spend another night hiding in your room."

"I don't hide-"

"Your Instagram search history would disagree." She grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the door. "Come on, one drink. If you're still miserable after that, you can come back and brood in peace."

Something about the way she said it - teasing but kind - made it hard to argue. "One drink," he conceded.

The rooftop bar at the W was busy but not crowded, the Abu Dhabi skyline glittering around them. They found a quiet corner with a view of the water.

"See? Not so terrible," YN said, sliding into her seat.

Oscar had to admit the view was spectacular. "It's alright."

"Such high praise! Should I alert the media?"

He tried to maintain his scowl but failed. "You're impossible."

"Yet here you are," she grinned. "Now, what are you drinking?"

Two hours later, they were walking along the waterfront, their earlier drinks having taken the edge off Oscar's usual guardedness. The night air was warm but pleasant, and the city lights reflected off the water like stars.

"No way," Oscar laughed - actually laughed - at YN's story. "You did not steal Lando's car."

"I didn't steal it! I borrowed it. There's a difference."

Oscar shook his head, still chuckling. "You're chaos."

"Better than being predictable," she shrugged, bumping his shoulder playfully. "Speaking of which, you know what I noticed?"

"What?"

"You haven't checked your phone once tonight."

Oscar realized she was right. He hadn't even thought about Lily since they'd left the hotel. "I guess I was… distracted."

"By my sparkling personality and amazing stories?"

"By your criminal tendencies, apparently."

YN stopped walking, turning to face him. "You know what else I noticed?"

"What?"

"You're smiling. Like, actually smiling. Not that fake media smile you do, but a real one."

Oscar felt his defenses start to rise, but YN continued before he could retreat.

"And the world didn't end," she said softly. "You had fun, you laughed, and somehow life went on."

He looked out at the water, processing her words. "It's not… it's not that simple."

"No, it's not," she agreed. "But it's a start." She turned to face the water too, standing close enough that their arms brushed. "You know what your problem is?"

"I'm sure you're going to tell me."

"You're so afraid of getting hurt again that you're missing out on all the good stuff. The random nights like this, the unexpected friendships, the moments that make life worth living."

Oscar was quiet for a moment. "I thought I had all that figured out," he finally said. "The whole future planned."

"And now?"

"Now…" he looked at her, really looked at her, illuminated by the city lights. "Now I don't know anything anymore."

"Good," she smiled. "That's where all the best stories start." She pulled out her phone, checking the time. "Come on, one more stop before I return you to your cave of solitude."

"Where?"

"There's a gelato place around the corner that's still open. And before you say no, just remember - I've already seen you smile tonight. Your reputation is already ruined."

Oscar found himself following her without argument, watching as she practically bounced down the sidewalk, chattering about the best gelato flavors. He thought about what she'd said about missing out on the good stuff.

Maybe, just maybe, she had a point.

"Hey YN?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks. For… you know."

She turned back to him, her smile soft. "I know." Then, because she was YN, she added, "But if you try to go back to being grumpy tomorrow, I'm telling everyone about how you sang along to Taylor Swift in the bar."

"I did not-"

"The security cameras would disagree!"

Their laughter echoed off the buildings, mixing with the sounds of the city, and for the first time in months, Oscar felt like maybe, just maybe, there was life after Lily after all.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by landonorris, lilyhme and 102,648 others

yourinstagram turns out mr grumpy does know how to smile 😌 (he's gonna kill me for posting this last pic but it was worth it)

view all comment

username1 AWE THIS???

username2 weird plot twist but i love it

username3 YN AND OSCAR???

landonorris my stomach miraculously feels better seeing this 😇

↳ oscarpiastri I trusted you norris

↳ landonorris you'll thank me later mate

↳ username1 is there an inside joke we’re missing?

alex_albon WHO IS THIS MAN AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH OSCAR

↳ oscarpiastri Delete this immediately

↳ yourinstagram no ❤️

↳ username2 WHATS GOING ON

yourinstagram for someone who "hates" this post you sure are commenting a lot @/oscarpiastri

↳ oscarpiastri ...i know where you live

↳ yourinstagram no you don't

↳ oscarpiastri Lando does

↳ landonorris leave me out of this 😂

username4 hear me out… oscar and yn

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The McLaren garage had erupted into absolute chaos the moment Lando and Oscar crossed the finish line, securing the Constructors' Championship for the team. Zak was crying, Andrea was hugging everyone in sight, and Lando had already lost his voice from screaming.

Oscar's head was buzzing pleasantly from the multiple champagne showers and whatever drinks had been pressed into his hands during the celebrations. His race suit was stained and sticky, his hair a mess, but he couldn't stop grinning.

"WORLD CHAMPIONS!" Lando screamed for the hundredth time, jumping on Oscar's back.

Through the crowd of celebrating team members, Oscar spotted YN chatting with some of the engineers. She was wearing a McLaren shirt (definitely stolen from Lando's collection) and had champagne dripping from her hair.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or the high of winning, or just the way she'd been beaming at him from the pit wall when he crossed the finish line, but Oscar found himself moving through the crowd toward her.

"YN!"

She turned, her smile growing wider. "Well, if it isn't the man of the hour-"

Before she could finish, Oscar had wrapped her in a tight hug, lifting her slightly off the ground. YN froze for a moment, clearly shocked by this uncharacteristic display of affection from him.

"Oh my god," she laughed, hugging him back. "Are you drunk or just really happy?"

"Both," he admitted into her hair, still not letting go. "We did it."

"You did it," she corrected, pulling back slightly to look at him. "Though I have to say, I'm a little concerned. First you're smiling in public, now you're initiating hugs? Who are you and what have you done with Oscar Piastri?"

"Shut up," he grinned, finally releasing her. "I'm allowed to be happy today."

"Quick, someone record this! The evidence that Oscar Piastri has emotions!"

"I take it back, I hate you again."

"No you don't," she sing-songed, poking his cheek. "You just hugged me in front of the entire paddock. Your reputation is ruined forever."

Oscar's eyes widened slightly as he looked around, suddenly aware of the knowing looks and smirks from nearby team members. Lando was practically vibrating with glee.

"I can still blame the champagne," he muttered.

"Sure you can," YN patted his cheek condescendingly. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, champ."

"I'm never going to live this down, am I?"

"Not a chance. I'm having this moment framed. 'The Day Oscar Piastri Showed Human Emotion: A Historical Event.'"

Despite himself, Oscar laughed. "You're impossible."

"Yet you hugged me anyway," she grinned triumphantly. "Face it, Piastri, you actually like having me around."

Maybe it was the champagne, or the victory high, or just the way her eyes were sparkling with mischief, but Oscar found himself saying, "Yeah, maybe I do."

YN's teasing smile softened into something more genuine. "Careful there, that almost sounded like admitting we're friends."

"Don't push it."

"Too late!" She called out to the garage. "Hey everyone! Oscar just said-"

Oscar quickly covered her mouth with his hand, both of them laughing now. "You're the worst."

She licked his palm, making him snatch his hand back. "And you love it."

Before he could respond, Lando crashed into both of them, wrapping his arms around their shoulders. "GROUP HUG! WORLD CHAMPIONS!"

As more team members joined the huddle, Oscar found himself pressed close to YN again. She caught his eye and mouthed "softie" at him with a smirk.

He rolled his eyes but couldn't stop smiling. Maybe she was right. Maybe he did like having her around.

But he was definitely blaming the champagne for that hug.

(He wasn't.)

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 104,759 others

yourinstagram to the boy who "doesn't smile" and the guy who "never shuts up" - you just made history. beyond proud to watch you two achieve this. thank you for letting me be a small part of the journey (even when one of you claimed to hate me 😌)

view all comments

username1 MCLAREN CHAMPIONSSS

username2 AHHH HAPPY OSC

landonorris MY FAVOURITE HUMAN ❤️

↳ oscarpiastri Excuse me?

↳ landonorris …my favourite humans*

↳ username1 THIS TRIO

username3 the grumpy one and the chaotic one

username4 I SHIP OSCAR AND YN

username5 she's lando's coolest friend

oscarpiastri Never hated you btw

↳ yourinstagram i know, you were just a grumpy boyy

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

texts between lily and oscar

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The McLaren Technology Centre had been transformed for the end-of-year celebration. Music thrummed through the usually pristine halls, and fairy lights twinkled everywhere. YN was nursing her second glass of champagne, watching Lando attempt to convince Zak to try some viral TikTok dance.

She found herself on one of the balconies overlooking the lake, enjoying the crisp December air. The door clicked behind her, and she didn't need to turn to know who it was – she'd recognize those footsteps anywhere.

"Escaping your own party, world champion?"

Oscar leaned against the railing beside her. "Needed some air."

"Too many people trying to hug you?" she teased. "I know how you hate showing emotion in public. Though after that champagne shower in Abu Dhabi…"

"Are you ever going to let that go?"

"Never," she grinned. "It's my favorite memory. The day Oscar Piastri admitted he had feelings."

He was quiet for a moment, fidgeting with his glass. "Speaking of feelings…"

"Ooh, are we having a heart-to-heart? Should I record this rare moment?"

"Lily texted me." He blurted it out almost defensively.

YN's smile faltered for a split second before returning. "Oh! That's… that's great! You must be over the moon. I mean, you've been waiting for her to-"

"I blocked her number."

"You… what?"

Oscar ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture she'd come to recognize. "She wanted to meet for coffee, talk about getting back together, but I just… I couldn't."

"Why not?" YN asked softly, even as her heart picked up speed.

"Because I think I'm falling for someone else," he said in a rush. "Have been for months, actually. Someone who never gave up on me even when I was being an absolute dick. Someone who somehow got past all my walls and made me laugh again. Someone who steals Lando's hoodies and makes terrible puns and calls me out on my bullshit and-"

She kissed him.

It wasn't a grand, dramatic kiss like in the movies. It was soft, quick, almost shy – but it shut him up immediately.

She pulled back, watching his stunned expression with amusement. "I always liked you, you idiot. You were just too busy being grumpy to notice."

"I… what?"

"The guy I've been telling Lando about for months? The one he keeps teasing me about? That's you, dummy."

"But you're always making fun of me!"

"Because you're cute when you're flustered! And it was the only way to get you to actually interact with me at first."

Oscar stared at her, processing. "So all those times you were 'accidentally' showing up wherever I was…"

"Lando might have helped with that," she admitted. "Though in my defense, you were being very stubborn about the whole 'I don't need friends' thing."

"I was an idiot, wasn't I?"

"The biggest," she agreed cheerfully. "But you're my idiot now. If you want to be, that is."

Instead of answering, Oscar pulled her closer and kissed her properly this time. She could feel him smiling against her lips.

"Finally!" Lando's voice made them jump apart. He was standing in the doorway, grinning from ear to ear. "Do you know how exhausting it's been watching you two dance around each other?"

"How long have you been standing there?" YN asked.

"Long enough to know I was right all along," he beamed. "My best friends are in love!"

Oscar groaned. "I'm never going to hear the end of this."

"Never ever," Lando confirmed cheerfully. "Now come on, there's a party inside and I want to see everyone's faces when they find out!"

YN turned back to Oscar, who looked like he was contemplating murder. "Well, at least we don't have to worry about how to tell everyone?"

"I'm going to kill him."

"No, you're not," she said, pulling him closer. "You're going to kiss me again, and then we're going to go inside and face the music together."

"Or," he suggested, "we could stay here and kiss some more."

"Look who's being soft now," she teased.

"Shut up."

"Make me."

So he did.

(Inside, Lando was already planning how to work this into his best man speech – not that he'd tell them that just yet.)

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 219,048 others

yourinstagram 2 months of making mr grumpy smile (and yes, there's photographic evidence of the smiles now). who would've thought all it took was stealing his hoodies and annoying him until he fell in love with me 😌 ps: thanks @/landonorris for being the world's most obvious wingman

view all comments

username1 THIS IS SO CUUUUTE

username2 i’m crying. they’re the most adorable couple ver

username3 this is what osc deserves!!!

landonorris MY WORK HERE IS DONE

↳ oscarpiastri You're the worst best friend ever

↳ landonorris you're welcome mate 😘

↳ yourinstagram thank you for your service

charles_leclerc The grumpy one's gone soft

↳ yourinstagram he really has 🥰

↳ oscarpiastri I hate both of you

↳ yourinstagram no you don't x

↳ oscarpiastri ...no i don't ❤️

alex_albon aremember when he used to pretend he couldn't stand you

↳ yourinstagram look how that turned out

↳ oscarpiastri In my defense she was very annoying

↳ yourinstagram still am, you just think it's cute now

↳ oscarpiastri ...no comment

username4 BEST COUPLE IN THE PADDOCK

username5 the day oscar piastri used a heart emoji. historic.

oscarpiastri Fine. You win. 2 months of pretending to be annoyed by the most incredible girl who somehow sees past my "resting grumpy face" (your words, not mine). Thanks for not giving up on me even when i was being difficult. ps: that's my favorite hoodie you're wearing in the last photo, i want it back.

↳ yourinstagram no you don't, it looks better on me 😌

↳ oscarpiastri ...yeah it does

↳ landonorris Get a room you two 🙄

↳ yourinstagram says the guy who took half these photos without us knowing

↳ landonorris SOMEONE had to document the enemies to lovers arc

↳ yourinstagram i love you, grumpy ❤️

[dannyriccsystem]

i love your oscar fic!! we need more. what about oscar dating fernando alonso's daughter and him finding out and being every supportive, meanwhile the whole grid is teasing them

GOT A LITTLE TASTE OF YOUR LOVE THE OTHER DAY!

FORMULA ONE DRIVER X READER

Summary: Oscar Piastri dating Alonso’s daughter… You!

Warnings: Y/N usage, slightly broken Spanish (been a few years I’m rusty), PAPA FERNANDO

Featuring: Oscar Piastri x Alonso!Reader

SO MANY OSCAR REQUESTS expect so much more for him soon! I love Oscar this is perfect

y/n.alonso

liked by fernandoalo_oficial and others

y/n.alonso My summer break 🫶 Ft. Mi gente favorita 😙❤️

tagged friend.user1, friend.user2, fernandoalo_oficial

—

username1 - Prettiest girl ever

♥︎ by author

friend.user1 - Beautiful girl ❤️ Te amo 😍

♥︎ by author

y/n.alonso - stoopp you’re beautiful

fernandoalo_oficial - Mi pequeña niña ❤️ All grown up

♥︎ by author

y/n.alonso - te amo papa 🥹

username2 - IS THAT A MAN IN THE LAST SLIDE

username3 - QUICK. EVERYONE ANALYZE THAT JAWLINE RIGHT NOW.

> username4 - COMPARE IT TO EVERYONE SHE FOLLOWS

> username5 - WE MUST PROTECT HER 🫡

username6 - These comments are crazy 😭

friend.user2 - Best summer ever ☺️ Such a joy

♥︎ by author

lance_stroll - 👍

♥︎ by author

y/n.alonso - Thanks Lance very cool

> username7 - IS IT HIM?

> username8 - girl 💀

oscarpiastri

liked by y/n.alonso and others

oscarpiastri Nice break 👍 Time to get back into the swing of things. 🏎️

—

username9 - Getting major boyfriend energy here

username10 - Let’s go Osc!! 🧡 Papaya boys got this

lando - Mate hired a professional photographer 😂

♥︎ by author

username11 - no because seriously who is taking his photos for him

opeightyone - Back on track🔥🙌

♥︎ by author

lnfour - Let’s aim for P2 (Gotta save P1 for the best 😉)

♥︎ by author

y/n.alonso - FERNANDO ALONSO P1!!🗣️🔥

♥︎ by author

> username12 - rare Y/N sighting…

> oscarpiastri - He may be young but he’s done it 🔥

username13 - Y/N and Oscar. The duo we didn’t know we needed

fernandoalo_oficial

liked by y/n.alonso and others

fernandoalo_oficial Mi princesita 😂 Still just as bossy

tagged y/n.alonso

—

username14 - I live for Nando dad content

y/n.alonso - Stop this made me cry 🥹 I love you papa thank you for everything

♥︎ by author

oscarpiastri - What a queen

username15 - ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE AHA

georgerussell63 - Who is this diva?

opeightyone - Admin’s fav girl 🫶

username16 - I feel like I’m being left out on a big inside jokes

> username17 - No real

Summer break for Formula One drivers had officially ended, landing them back in the competition for the Dutch grand prix. All the way over in Zandvoort.

You and Oscar were making your couple’s debut amongst the rest of the grid, excluding your father. You both had to calmly sit him down over dinner and explain that you were in love, and nothing would change that. Despite how protective he had been in the past, Papa Nando seemed to take the news quite well.

“Well, there were worse options. Could have been Lando,” you remember him saying as he patted your boyfriend on the back, who seemed gobsmacked at the polite reaction to such big news. The older gentleman offered him a hug, which settled their newfound father-son dynamic.

It was always interesting to see your father and your boyfriend interact, on or off the track. They seemed so unlike, but their chemistry balanced out nicely. Fernando always teased your boyfriend, making comments such as “I started racing before you were even born” and “you’re so young, I can’t believe you’re dating my daughter!” despite the fact you were only a few months older than Oscar.

You stepped into the paddock holding his hand, feeling oddly nervous. It shouldn’t have mattered since only the most important people in your life knew— That being Oscar and Fernando, although you were pretty sure Lando and Lance figured it out as well— but it was always a strange feeling to make your relationship public.

A chill ran down your spine when you heard someone call out, “Y/N!” Oscar’s hands squeezed yours reassuringly as you turned around to see Lewis rolling towards you on his scooter. He had his bright Ferrari red kit on, with a pair of sunglasses and a hat to pull the look together. “Are you here with your d…” His eyes trailed down, and he paused knowingly. “Oscar!” He cheered, clapping him on the shoulder aggressively. Your boyfriend flinched, a grimace of a smile popping up. “Moving up in life! Congrats.”

“Thank you, Lewis.” You answered for him. “But no, I haven’t seen my dad. Check his garage.” He nodded, giving you both one last glance over before rolling off again. “Charming as ever,” You reply teasingly.

“Yeah. Charming…”

The teasing didn’t end there. Being Fernando’s daughter meant a lot of these guys watched you grow up. You were there running around the tracks while some of them were in their rookie years— For anyone wanting to become a dad themself, you were probably good practice.

After Lewis came Max, who just made a few jokes about Fernando targeting him on the track now. Then came George, who went on a whole rant about how the fans would react, but ended it with a congratulations. Next was Leclerc, and then Sainz, and then Albon… It was driver after driver leaving a little teasing remark.

By the end, you were getting a bit tired of it. Not angry or upset, just… Feeling like you had to force a laugh with every joke that was said. When it seemed like they all had their share with poking fun, the both of you were sitting in Oscar’s driving room.

You watched him organize some of his stuff for the weekend quietly. Finally, he broke the silence when he came to kiss your scalp, “Well, we never have to do that again at least.”

Yeah, no. The teasing didn’t stop there.

y/n.alonso

liked by oscarpiastri and others

y/n.alonso My boyfriend makes the same face all the time. 🙂

tagged oscarpiastri

—

username18 - SORRY??? boyfriend?! like. BOYFRIEND?

username19 - She knew what the people wanted when she posted these

opeightyone - Promoted to our best photographer 📸

♥︎ by author

y/n.alonso - how much am I being paid

> oscarpiastri - My love is payment enough?

♥︎ by author

> y/n.alonso - Sigh. I guess

fernandoalo.oficial - Nice kid 😀

♥︎ by author

y/n.alonso - Gracias papa 😇☺️🫶

username20 - PAPA NANDO APPROVES

username21 - HARD LAUNCH ERA!!

oscarpiastri - 🙂

♥︎ by author

y/n.alonso - Wouldn’t have you any other way 🙂

[norristeria]

Miss Independent ! LN04

━━━━━━ Part of the LOVESICK IDOLS anthology!

SUMMARY 𝄡 You can buy your own diamonds and flowers, you always have. This independence is so sacred, it blinds you to Lando's need to provide.

PAIRING 𝄡 Lando Norris x A-List Actress! FemReader

TAGS 𝄡 Fluff, Angst.

WORDCOUNT 𝄡 4k.

NOTE 𝄡 The idea hit me in the face in the middle of the night & I knew I had to get the words out before they vanished. I don't know if I like it, it's quite messy ( & not as poetic as Thy Trophy, I fear⏤I'm keeping all my pretty metaphors for another fic lol ) but oh well! This is not proofread so if you see a typo, no you did not... Enjoy!! <33

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

It all began with the bouquet of peonies.

Paris’s avenues stirred to life with the coming of spring, perfumed by the powdery scents drifting from adorned Haussmann balconies and overflowing flower stalls. Color, in all its revelry, reclaimed its dominion, dazzling eyes long dulled by winter—a resurrection both olfactory and optical, which served as a gentle reminder that Hope would always prevail.

Even the blinding fabrics of the archival pieces chosen by your stylist could not compare to Mother Nature, who had woven her finest tapestry the moment April’s soft sun had peeked through the clouds.

The prosaic birthed Beauty, and what could embody both better than a bouquet of flowers?

There, tucked on a side table in a corner, the peonies reigned. You had spotted them the moment you had walked in, and since then, they had haunted your gaze and mind.

Pink and violet blurred at the edge of your vision. Whenever the stylists were not looking, you would breathe in, hoping to catch their delicate scent, but were left only with frustration and the stiffness of your stance atop that damned pedestal.

You had been invited to yet another dinner—something of the “upmost importance,” according to your agent—and now you had to decide on a dress.  

Not on sunlit café terraces, nor in the gardens of the Tuileries, no, but here, in a showroom lit by artificial light and chilled by aggressive air conditioning.

Since morning, people had poked and prodded, measured and tightened corsets, adjusted layers of tulle and silk. More doll than human, you suffocated in the vast white hall of the 30 Avenue Montaigne, longing to trade its sterile walls for the breezy avenues of the 8th arrondissement.

Your gaze drifted again to the peonies, and you sighed.

Spring would have to wait.

Suddenly, your phone rang. The chime cut through the whispering—though not-so-discreet—remarks of the stylists, their brutal musings on the shape of your hips or the width of your arms.

You silently thanked whoever had called for silencing them, even if only for a heartbeat.

Unable to move—a stylist was pinning lace across your torso—you asked your assistant, Marguerite, to bring the phone to you. When you saw the name written on the screen, a breathless smile spread across your lips.

“Hello!”

“Hi, my love,” came Lando’s weary voice.

“How’s Japan?”

You heard the rustle of bedsheets through the speaker as he shifted. Night had long fallen in Suzuka, stealing away the euphoria of race day and leaving only its ghosts—the stress, the nerves, the doubt.

“It’s fine. It’d be better if you were here, though.”

You winced, guilt flaring sharp in your chest. You closed your eyes.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry... I’d rather be with you than do these stupid fittings.”

You ignored the scalding looks from the stylists.

Lando did not reply. He sniffed. Your heart broke.

How you wished you could pick up its pieces, but the corset pressing against your ribs held you prisoner in your pain.

You dreamed of following Lando across the world, cheering from the paddock instead of watching grainy videos shared online. But your career came first—whether you liked it or not. Your agent made sure of that.

Such was the price of passion: loving by proxy, surviving on scattered calls and whispered promises.

The gods had not been kind to you. They punished your love, destined to transcend physical laws and only exist on different time zones.

His breathing echoed in your ear as you searched for a distraction, something to take his mind of the weekend. He rarely called during races—it reminded him too much of your absence in the McLaren garage.

You knew this call meant more. It was flare in the dark.

Your eyes swept the room once more and found the peonies. They would do.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, perhaps a little too brightly. “Dior has the most adorable bouquet of peonies I’ve ever seen. Hold on, I’ll send you a photo!”

You snapped a picture and sent it before he could say a word.

“Don’t you think they’d look perfect in the apartment in Monaco?”

The apartment. Not yours. Just another in-between you lived in. Not quite London, not quite New York. Not quite Monaco, not quite Paris. Such was the life of an actress, a never-ending wanderer.

“I trust your taste more than mine,” he said.

You nearly cried when you heard the smile in his voice. One spark of joy in Lando was enough to ignite your own. They had grown so rare these days, each one deserved celebration.

The start of the season had been rough, and it had not let up—even with the glory.

Heavy is the head that wears the crown, especially when your name is Lando Norris, and the internet has decided to make you its scapegoat.

You spoke of anything and everything, trying desperately to pull him from the darkness, though you knew—traitorous and stubborn as they were—those thoughts would crawl back to him later, whispering their lies in the night.

Minutes passed. A seamstress pricked you five times. Then came the question, sudden and soft.

“Do you think you could make it to Bahrain? With the triple header, we won’t see each other for another two, maybe three.”

Despair bled into every word. But you didn’t hear it—Marguerite was trying to tell you something. You bent toward her, the corset biting into your waist.

“Hmm?” you asked distractedly, straightening up. “Ouch!”

The stylist apologized, trembling, needle still in hand. You sighed and waved her off.

“Sorry, Love,” you said. “Marguerite was asking about my lunch order. What were you saying?”

“Nothing. Forget it.”

You wanted to insist, but he beat you to it.

“I should sleep. Jon will kill me if I don’t. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Of course. Good luck for tomorrow. Dream of me.”

“Always.”

You hung up.

An hour later, after endless fittings and the final selection—a Spring 1998 gown—you said your goodbyes, promised Marguerite to update her on your whereabouts, and stepped out onto Avenue Montaigne, bodyguards in tow.

The peonies had colored your thoughts, and you were determined to bring a piece of Parisian Spring back to Monaco.

Your flight would not leave till late afternoon, leaving you enough time to find a florist. Luckily, you did not have to walk far. Monsieur Dior had loved flowers, and the whole neighborhood bloomed for him.

The chime of the shop’s bell greeted you. That small melody lifted your heart, though you couldn’t explain why.

You saw them instantly.

An explosion of color rather than a mere bouquet, the peonies demanded attention. You imagined them in your white-walled Monaco living room, an impressionist painting come to life, and did not hesitate.

You pointed to them, all smiles. The florist quickly wrapped them in tissue paper.

“That’ll be two hundred euros, please.”

You did not blink and paid absently, already lost in the scent of the blossoms. They wrapped around you, filling the hollow Lando’s absence had left.

Your phone rang again, just as you stepped outside. You frowned.

“You’re not asleep?”

“Can we FaceTime?” Lando asked, ignoring your question.

“Of course. One sec…”

You fumbled for an angle, nearly dropping the bouquet. The peonies spilled into the frame, half-hiding your face.

“Oh... you bought them?” His voice was unreadable.

Odd, you thought.

“Yeah! I couldn’t resist. I hope they survive the jet ride, but I don’t see why not! What do you think?”

“They’re beautiful. Not as beautiful as you, but close.”

You snorted.

“Flatterer.”

A silence.

“Are you okay?” you asked gently.

He sighed.

“Nervous. And I can’t sleep without you.”

“You have my hoodie, don’t you?”

“Not the same,” he mumbled. “And your scent’s fading.”

Your heart clenched.

“I promise I’ll talk to Christopher and my agent. Maybe I can free up a Grand Prix weekend. Miami? I’m not due back in Sicily until mid-May.”

Paris blurred around you. The Grand Palais, the Champs-Élysées. None of it mattered when Lando needed you.

Eventually, after reluctant goodbyes, you hung up and walked on under the bright Parisian sky.

Far away, in a hotel room in Suzuka, Lando sighed and, with a swipe of his thumb, canceled the peony order he had placed with a florist in Monaco.

Then came the restaurant.

Amid the empty plates and crumpled napkins, red circles had seeped and stained the once-pristine tablecloth of the three-star establishment. The wine bottle lay on the table, empty, but its effects were palpable.

The candles that had not yet melted cast a hypnotic glow on your face and illuminated what Lando loved most about you: your pupils, dilated from intoxicating love?

You had long since abandoned any sense of decorum. The tip of your stilettos had begun to stroke his calf, leaving Lando to grip his cutlery so hard his knuckles had turned white.

When you bit your lip, he snapped and stood up so abruptly he almost knocked over his chair.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” he muttered.

But instead of heading toward the back of the restaurant, he went the other way, stopping in front of the waiter. Lando handed him his card in an agitated gesture, running a hand through his curls. His thoughts were already drifting to the warmth of your skin, the softness of your lips, the tightness of your–

“It appears Madame has already paid, Mr. Norris.”

Both the effects of wine and desire evaporated in a heartbeat, leaving him pale. His hand froze in his hair. He blinked. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“What do you mean ‘she already paid’? When?” he finally choked out.

The waiter consulted his ledger.

“She left her card earlier in the evening. Here it is.”

He slid a black leather folder across the stand. From it, a metallic rectangle protruded. Lando inwardly cursed.

The black-and-bronze Centurion card, a symbol of wealth and privilege.

Now his nemesis.

Lando snatched it up. An intrusive thought crossed his mind as he held it in his large hand. What if he broke it? He’d pretend it was an accident, of course, but this temporary setback would give him the chance to finally, finally, provide for you.

He shook his head and returned to your table. The card dug painfully into his palm, a sharp reminder of its constant, unbearable presence.

You looked up when you heard him approach, a seductive smile painted on your red lips, completely unaware of the storm rising inside him.

You gaze dropped to his hand, which you admired for a few seconds, then lifted back to Lando’s now-dull green eyes.

“You got my card?”

He sighed and handed it back to you.

“Let’s go.”

Lando helped you with your coat, his hands lingering longer on your shoulders than etiquette would’ve allowed, and together you left.

“Next time, I’m paying,” he said as you waited for the valet.

“Of course,” you replied distractedly, tracing his jawline with the tip of a finger.

Your mind was already elsewhere, on the rest of your evening and the promises your smoldering gazes had recklessly sealed. Lando’s, however, remained stuck on the matter of the bill and the uneasy feeling that had spread through his veins like poison.

Insecurity.

His movements turned mechanical as he heard the engine of his Lamborghini roar. He tipped the valet, thanked him in a flat tone, opened the passenger door for you, offered his hand to help you sit down, then slipped behind the wheel.

His large hand instinctively found your bare, warm thigh—and squeezed.

In the hollow of his palm, the imprint left by the metal card still burned.

But it was the necklace that broke the camel’s back.

The streets of Monaco held a familiarity that comforted Lando after the chaos of the triple header. The narrow lanes and tight turns—walked instead of raced—distracted him from the season and the pressure it carried. The Monaco Grand Prix was still far enough away that he could see the city as nothing more than Home.

He rejoiced in the familiar scent of the Mediterranean Sea, curiously mingled with the tang of luxury car exhaust and the heavy perfumes spilling from boutique doors. Monaco oozed opulence, and you, at his side, fit so seamlessly into this surreal world.

His gaze wandered to you, dressed head to toe in haute couture. In a giddy rush of love and admiration, he stole a kiss from your lips.

Sometimes, he still could not believe you were his.

Hand in hand, the two of you wandered through the principality, with no purpose other than to enjoy each other’s company. You had managed to negotiate a break from your current project—Christopher Nolan would not need you in Sicily for The Odyssey until the end of May.

Lando had pounced on the opportunity, inviting you to join him in Monaco. Your moments were counted; every chance was too precious to be wasted.

Eventually, your idle stroll led you to the ever-crowded Casino Square. You weaved through a sea of phone cameras and autograph requests, sunglasses on, love-drunk smiles on your lips.

“Y/N! Can I get an autograph?”

“Lando! My son’s your biggest fan!”

“Can we do a fit check for my TikTok?”

When a fan strayed too close to you, Lando pulled you behind him and, in a sudden flash of protectiveness, veered you off your usual route, his hand against your lower back.

“What are you doing?” you whispered to him.

“An Oscar-winning actress deserves a proper gift,” he replied with a mischievous glint.

He ignored your questions and wrapped an arm around your waist. Your fingers laced through his on instinct—your body recognized and sought his.

Together, you slipped away from the crowd, past terracotta and granite facades, until you stumbled upon the discreet Cartier boutique tucked into the corner of the square. The chaos outside had already begun to fade, but you both knew iPhone lenses were still quietly tracking your every move.

The rules of paparazzi didn’t apply to phones—much to your dismay.

It was funny to think that just four months ago, you would never have had to consider such a thing; still cocooned in secrecy then, wrapped in love and shadows.

Though he hated the sacrifice of privacy he had made—your little paradise now dissected by the public eye—Lando could not suppress the flicker of pride that warmed his chest.

No more misplaced hopes from admirers; he could walk beside you in broad daylight, and finally, silence them all.

“It’s been almost two months since I got that Oscar,” you teased, realizing where he was leading you. “And you’ve said the same thing every time.”

He only shrugged.

“So what?”

You laughed softly and rolled your eyes.

A doorman opened the door, ushering you into the hushed, velvety quiet of the shop. The boutique, curiously empty, felt as though it had been waiting just for you.

A man greeted you both with open arms.

“Madame L/N, Monsieur Norris, what a joy to see you again! May I offer you a glass of champagne?”

You were guided to a private salon, away from wandering eyes. Some fans would have pressed against the glass just to glimpse at a fragment of your day.

“It’s been some time since we’ve had the pleasure, Madame L/N.”

The salesman’s attention naturally fell to you, and Lando didn’t mind. You were a loyal client—draped in their creations at every red carpet, every press tour, and even in the quiet of your everyday life.

The man waisted to time to present a diamond bracelet. You slid it on gently. The stones, dazzling and vibrant, were blinding, but you remained unmoved by its beauty.

And thus began a familiar dance. A necklace, then an emerald ring, ruby earrings. Each time, you shook your head.

Lando watched you, entranced by the dhow you were unconsciously putting on, happy to offer his opinion when you asked.

“That one’s cute.”

“Oh, gorgeous.”

“Pretty.”

When he complimented yet another jewel, you delicately placed the ring back in its crimson box, raising an eyebrow at him with a knowing smirk. He knew every one of your expressions—that spark in your eyes meant affectionate exasperation.

“You’re not being very helpful, you know.”

“Not my fault you make everything looks good,” he said, glancing at the salesman. “Right, Hervé?”

“Absolutely, Monsieur Norris.”

You stared at the glittering display before you—each piece more beautiful than the last—a pout tugging at your lips.

Lando had to resist the urge to kiss it away.

“Hmm. I don’t know. Nothing really speaks to me.”

“Perhaps you might consider this one?”

Lando tuned out Hervé’s voice. He stood and walked around the room, his gaze caught by thousands of gems shimmering in the light. The luxurious kaleidoscope made his head spin.

He blinked and stopped before a particular display. The necklace inside seized his attention instantly.

“Have you tried this one yet, love?” he asked, mesmerized by the play of light across its surface.

Hervé stood to get a better look.

“Ah oui. Our Reflection necklace. Crafted in eighteen-karat white gold and set with no fewer than three hundred and seventy-six diamonds. A masterpiece of craftsmanship.”

He stood up, unlocked the case and brought the box to the Louis XVI-style table, placing it reverently before you.

Lando returned to your side, unable to tear his eyes from the jewel. The reflection of the diamonds danced across the molded ceiling and glinted in every glass pane.

He could not wait to see them against your skin.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured. “Could I try it on?”

“Of course, Madame. May I?”

With gloved fingers, Hervé fastened the necklace around your throat. The diamonds and gold sang a symphony of excess as they settled against your skin. Lando’s mouth went dry.

“What do you think, darling?”

He stammered a few inarticulate compliments, unable to look away from your diamond-clad neck.

His gaze dropped lower.

He swallowed.

“That’s the one.”

“I think so too.”

His phone rang, shattering the moment.

You cast him a sharp look before offering Hervé an apologetic—or rather embarrassed—smile. You loathed rudeness.

He shot you a sorry glance, excused himself and stood up.

“I have to take this. Excuse me.”

The call with Jon lasted less than five minutes—but it was enough.

When Lando returned to the room, Hervé was handing you a bag.

You turned toward him as he entered, a radiant smile on your face. For once, he did not return it. He did not linger on your beauty either. No. His eyes went straight to that damned paper bag.

His heart dropped and reverberated in his now-empty mind. Its echoes gave rise to a strange unease that took over him completely—the same one he had felt at the restaurant.

“We can go. I already paid.”

“What?” he asked, voice hollow.

“You were right,” you said, oblivious—or indifferent—to his torment. “The necklace was the best choice.”

“You paid?” he repeated.

“Yes. I didn’t know how long your call would take.”

Something deep within Lando finally snapped.

The male ego is a curious thing. Poke it—and brace for the fallout.

Lando clenched his fist as a plan began to take shape in his mind.

“Love, have you seen my card?” you asked three days later from your shared bedroom.

Lando, lounging on the couch, quickly shoved the said card into the pocket of his hoodie. The metal clinked against his silver ring.

“No,” he cleared his throat. “Why?”

You stormed into the living-room, one hand tangled in your hair. Stress radiated off you in waves. Lando swallowed hard as a cold sweat slid down his spine. You had a gift for making him panic with a single glance—and of the two, he was certainly not the better actor.

“Shit! I had it this morning! I saw this bag that looked really nice.”

“I can get it for you, if you want,” he offered, almost shyly.

But you didn’t hear him—too busy tearing through cushions and knick-knacks, muttering under your breath.

“It’s alright, baby. I’ll buy it for you,” he tried again, more insistent this time.

You straightened up, frowning, the catch-all bowl clutched in your hand.

“I’m perfectly capable of buying this bag myself, Lando.”

The words cracked through the air—sharp, wounded.

Way to go, Norris. That’s not how you’re going to win her over.

“I never said you couldn’t,” he murmured. “It would just make me happy to do it.”

You ignored him and went back to searching. Lando watched, mouth slightly ajar. So, you weren’t even going to acknowledge him? He called your name several times, but you stayed deaf to his pleas.

“Can you just let me spoil you for once?!” he finally burst out.

The peonies, the restaurant, the necklace—all the frustration he had buried deep in his chest bled out in his voice—an uncontrollable hemorrhage of ego.

You arched a brow and placed the bowl back on the table with a frightening calmness. The soft chime rang through the silence as you slowly stood.

“Who are you talking to like that?”

“I just–! I mean– Argh!”

Lando dragged a hand through his curls, pulling at them—a gesture he had picked up from you. Love bred mimicry. The little quirks of one became second nature to the other.

“You don’t let me buy you anything,” he said again, softer.

“That’s not true. You gave me that dress not long ago.”

“Yeah. Because it was Christmas! Four months ago, Y/N.”

You scoffed and crossed your arms. From where he sat, he could see the tension in your shoulders, the pinch of your lips.

You were angry.

“Look, I—” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It just feels like… like you don’t need me.”

The truth burned his throat. He lowered his gaze, afraid to see pity, or pain, or worse—incomprehension—in your eyes.

“That’s ridiculous.”

He exhaled, eyes shut.

“Maybe. But that’s how I feel.”

Silence fell over you both, thick and heavy. It struck him full in the chest. His heart thundered in his ears.

Why couldn’t you try and understand him? Why were you so stubborn? How long would you speak at cross purposes?

Eventually, the couch dipped beside him, and your scent wrapped around him.

“I don’t need you to buy me bags or necklaces, Lando,” you said, voice gentler now.

He flinched and his heart stung.

“But… I guess I understand why you’d feel that way. And even if it doesn’t make much sense to me…” You sighed. “Well, I suppose I can try.”

Lando looked up, chest already lighter. His pinky found yours on the cushion, and when it did, he did not let go.

You looked at him, lips pressed tight.

“One gift a month.”

“One big gift a month. Small ones have no limit.”

A beat.

You sighed.

“Fine.”

You held out your hand to seal the pact, but Lando pulled you into his chest instead.

There you stayed, quiet. He nestled into the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent—yours and yours alone—and closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry for not listening to you earlier,” you whispered minutes later, your throat vibrating against his lips.

“It’s okay.”

You pulled away, bracing a hand against his abs. Lando tried to tug you back against him, already missing your warmth, but you resisted, determined to make your point across.

“No, it’s not. Communication is important in a relationship, and I didn’t consider your feelings, only mine.”

He cupped your face and kissed you deeply before meeting your gaze. A mischievous grin crept onto his lips.

“Let me get you the bracelet and ring to match that Cartier necklace and all is forgiven.”

You rolled your eyes but did not argue. That alone made Lando beam.

Victory tasted sweet—but not as sweet as your lips, which he kissed again. His hands roamed, and yours soon followed.

But just as quickly, they stilled.

You pulled away, eyes narrowing.

“Is that my fucking card in your pocket?”

Lando winced.

[theonlyonesora]

First Meeting

Synopsis. His parents want to meet you.

Pairings. (SEPARATE) Oscar Piastri x Reader, Lewis Hamilton x Reader, Lando Norris x Reader, Carlos Sainz x Reader

Oscar Piastri x Reader

The cozy kitchen in Melbourne. It smells of eucalyptus and freshly roasted ham.

Oscar’s hand is damp in yours as you step into his childhood home. The floor creaks with memories. His mom has flour on her nose, his dad is making tea, and suddenly you’re twelve again, meeting your best friend’s parents for the first time.

“They’re going to love you,” Oscar whispers.

The minute you say hello, your mom wraps you in a vanilla-scented hug.

“You’re even prettier than in your pictures!” she beams.

Oscar blushes. “Mum…”

His dad smiles at him. “You didn’t say she was funny too.”

You glance at Oscar. “What have you been saying about me?”

Oscar smiles, shy and proud. “Only the best parts.”

And as you help his mother roll the dough and laugh with his father over old go-kart photos, Oscar watches you with a silent reverence, as if he can already see the life you’re building, brick by sweet, buttery brick.

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

In a swanky rooftop restaurant in London, with soft lighting, champagne flutes and hushed jazz.

You’ve never worn heels so high or felt so nervous.

Lewis squeezes your hand under the white linen tablecloth. “They’re just people.”

“They’re your people. Your mother is the grace, literally. I’m… a person with spinach in my teeth.”

He laughs and leans in. “You’re doing well, darling.”

His mother, glowing in lilac silk, asks about your dreams. His stepfather compliments your laugh. You manage not to spill your wine.

Just when you’re feeling confident, dessert arrives and you accidentally mistake your cheese knife for your spoon.

Silence. Then Lewis’s mother starts laughing. “Oh, I did the same thing on my first date with Lewis’s father.”

You exhale so hard that your soul leaves your body.

Lewis smiles. “See? You’re family now.”

Lando Norris x Reader

They’re in your childhood home in Bristol. Warm, a little chaotic, and full of oddly shaped mugs and sarcastic banter.

You’re not sure who’s more nervous: you or Lando.

“Don’t criticize me in front of them,” he says, fixing his hair in the hallway mirror.

You raise an eyebrow. “What am I supposed to say when your mother shows me baby pictures of you, with chocolate all over your face?”

“I was adorable!”

“You were clingy.”

The door opens. His mother hugs you tightly. His father gives Lando that “you better not screw this up” look. And then you’re all gathered in the living room, drinking tea and telling old stories.

“She keeps him grounded,” his mother says, winking.

Lando groans. "Mom, please—"

And somehow, somewhere between roast dinners and childhood videos, you find yourself laughing until your belly hurts, Lando's arm around you, your parents smiling with that unmistakable look of yes, this is different.

Carlos Sainz x Reader

On a sunny terrace in Madrid. Olive trees sway, plates clink, and the Sainz family gathers around a long table with an abundance of food.

Carlos is smiling like a child.

“My mother made a tortilla just for you,” he whispers.

You’re doing well. Seriously. Until his father approaches and says, “So… how do you keep up with our Carlos, huh?”

Carlos nearly chokes on his wine.

“I run really fast,” you say, deadpan.

There’s a moment of silence. Then Carlos’ mother bursts out laughing, wiping her eyes.

“You’re going to need humor, my dear. He’s the best.”

Carlos gives you a wry look. “Traitor.”

Later, when you help his mother with the dishes and his father pats Carlos on the back and says, “This is a smart one,” you know — deep down — that you’ve been welcomed, not just tolerated.

Carlos watches you from the patio, smiling into his glass of wine. You look up at him.

And he says, Thank you.

[p1astr81]

hii could you do Oscar × Reader size kink fic? Random hookup or enemies to lovers or anything really! thanxx

smut!! You’re responsible for the content you consume!! size kink, praise kink, pain kink, begging, no mention of protection (wrap ur willy’s), this is just… the filthiest thing I’ve ever written.

Oscar needed to get his head straight and he couldn’t do that when he was frustrated.

Sexually frustrated, that is.

Which is how he found himself at a club at the beginning of the night. He expected to go home with a random girl. He definitely didn’t expect his on-track rival to be the one under him to end the night.

He made you cum on his fingers first in preparation for the real thing. He wasn’t a monster.

You reached for the waistband of his pants, impatient and incoherently begging for him to fuck you.

“What happened to those glares you love to give me?” He teased, fiddling with the button of his pants.

Like it was a cue, you glared at him. “Fuck you, Piastri.” You bit, but you couldn’t held the was your hips bucked against his hand when his fingers ghosted your clit.

Oscar smirked, uncharacteristically smug. “You know, I’ve heard you say that quite a bit. Guess you’re finally getting what you want.” He continued to tease, loving how it riled you up.

His pants dropped to the floor along with his boxers, earning a soft gasp from you. “Jesus fucking Christ.” You breathed, eyes on his dick. Thick, but also longer than any you’d ever seen. “That’s not gonna fit.” You laughed, breathless and nervous.

And it was then that he truly realized the size difference. You were shorter than him, by a noticeable amount. He towered over you when you stood next to each other. Heat flowed to his dick at the thought.

“You flatter me.”

“I’m serious.”

He crawled up the bed to meet you face to face. “I’ll go slow.” He promised, planting a kiss to your forehead—far too domestic for two people who claimed to hate each other.

You nodded, closing your eyes. You felt his tip nudge against your clit and you let out a small whimper.

“You ready, baby?” The pet name wasn’t intentional—just a slip of the tongue—but neither of you dwelled on it, too drunk on the promise of a good fuck.

You nodded. Not enough for him. “With your words.” He said, soft but authoritative.

“Yes! Stop fucking teasing, Piastri!” You mewled, bucking your hips.

He chuckled, a low, gruff sound that was too appeasing to your ears for your liking.

Oscar eased in slowly, inch by inch, letting you adjust to the size of him. “There ya go. I knew you could do it.” He praised once he was fully seated inside of you, teeth grazing your ear. He felt you squeeze around him at the praise. Duly noted. “Whenever you’re ready.” He advised.

Your breathing had already picked up, quick breaths as the pain of him turned into pleasure. Nails found his broad shoulders, just ghosting over the skin. “Okay, okay. I’m good.” You nodded, eyes still closed.

He started his thrusts at a slow pace, still unsure how ready you were. Especially when your head was already thrown back and your jaw hanging open with shallow moans already escaping. Your nails finally dug in, earning a sharp inhale. But it didn’t pain Oscar, actually, it felt too good. “Fuck me properly.” You told him.

“You gonna ask nicely?”

Any idea of continuing with the banter ended when he slowed his thrusts almost to a stop. You whined. “Please! Please just fuck me!”

He grinned, picking up the pace of his thrusts, his hips near slamming into yours. Obscene repeats of ah! ah! ah! echoed around the walls, tangling with low groans from Oscar when he felt your nails dig lines down his back, and the wet squelching and slapping. It was straight from a porno.

Oscar looked down, trying to catch a glimpse of where your bodies meet. Big fucking mistake.

“Oh, fuck.” He groaned, seeing his dick poke through your lower stomach with every thrust. The sight was too much, getting him too close too quick.

“Look at you, look at how well you take me.” He groaned, directing your eyes to witness what he was. “So fuckin’ perfect for me.”

The sight and his words drew a high pitched moan out of you, your stomach tightening. “I can feel you’re getting close, squeezing me.” He groaned, throwing his head back. “Fuck, you’re amazing.”

Another high pitched moan rang off the walls. “Oscar! Please! ‘M gonna cum!” Your nails dug in father. He was sure you drew blood, but he didn’t care. It felt too good.

“Go on, I’ve got you.”

That’s all you needed to let go, gushing your release all over his cock. You squeezed him tight. It’s all he needed to cum with you, moaning your name, telling you how pretty you look all fucked out.

After he cleaned you up, he came to lay beside you. You were only half awake by then.

“No wonder you’ve never gotten disqualified for being underweight.” You mumble, instinctively cuddling into him.

He let you, wrapping his arms around you, laughing at your joke. “I don’t think we can say we hate each other after that.”

“Hm. Maybe you can’t, but I can.”

He smiled. “Fine. But only if we can do this again.”

You looked up at him, lazy smile and eyes only half open. “That good, huh?”

“Best I’ve ever had.” He shrugged. “Even if you did make me bleed.”

Your brows furrowed. “What?”

Oscar carefully pulled away from you, turning his back to you. You gasped. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” You reached out, pads of your fingers brushing over the wounds—no longer bleeding.

He shrugged, lying back down, tangling with you once more. “It’s okay.” He hesitated. “It felt kind of good.” He admitted.

You chuckled, resting your head over his beating heart. “Guess I’ll remember that for the next time.” You grinned.

[astonmartinii]

who's afraid of little old me? | [guilty as sin part six] | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x sainz!reader

alls well that ends well.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

maxverstappen1

liked by pepemarti, oscarpiastri and 1,934,209 others

tagged: kimiantonelli, yourusername & charles_leclerc

maxverstappen1: ootd for court!

view all comments

user379: HE’S SUING CARLOS?

user380: i think i saw that he’s in switzerland which means he’s probably referring to the court of arbitration for sport

user381: so red bull defo have the data to back up the claim that carlos purposefully crashed into max?

user382: they’d be stupid not to have it and still risk going to CAS

user383: so how do i go about getting into the court room?

yourusername: it’s not particularly weird that i’ve taken my brother to court, but it was weird that i’ve now done it twice

maxverstappen1: save some court dates for the rest of us

oscarpiastri: soooooooo selfish of you

yourusername: well at least we all get to come this time!

charles_leclerc: can our next group trip please be to somewhere fun like ibiza or bali not COURT

yourusername: why? i clearly love it here?

charles_leclerc: but you love me more?

yourusername: why do you think i keep getting dragged to court?

maxverstappen1: because your brother is a prick?

yourusername: well there’s also that

user384: so like who is going to be live blogging this?

user385: can you live blog court proceedings?

user386: why haven’t sky managed to get ted kravitz in the court room?

user387: if i have to listen to him slander max for the rest of the year it’s the least they could do…

olliebearman: omg the silence in the comment section @yourusername you should’ve sued him sooner

maxverstappen1: hey! i’m the one suing him give me the credit

yourusername: yeah sorry ollie, unfortunately carlos sued ME the last time

pepemarti: @charles_leclerc i still think you’re a pussy for not speaking up during this…

charles_leclerc: I KNOW

charles_leclerc: I’M SORRY

yourusername: it’s okay baby, i’ve forgiven you

pepemarti: i haven’t

charles_leclerc: okay?

yourusername: he’s just protective 🥰

charles_leclerc: what the hell sure

user388: pepe marti i am fond of you

user389: surely one of these grid kids will live tweet?

yourusername: do NOT tempt them with a good time

WHAT ON EARTH IS HAPPENING IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS (CAS?)

By BBC Sport

14:30

One of the most high-profile court cases in sport kicked off earlier this month and the rest of the world has been left baffled by the proceedings.

Max Verstappen, and his team Red Bull Racing, have taken Carlos Sainz, Ferrari driver for the 2024 season, to the Court of Arbitration for Sport following their crash in Azerbaijan.

The final lap at the circuit in Baku saw Sainz storm into the side of Verstappen’s Red Bull, pushing both cars into the concrete barriers at the street circuit. Although neither driver were seriously injured, Verstappen was kept overnight in the hospital for precautions, while Sainz was able to hop straight out of his wrecked car and into his private jet to his picturesque holiday spot.

Verstappen, ever the joker, immediately ran to social media where alongside his gang of other drivers and friend Y/N Sainz poked at the situation. It wasn’t until a couple of days after the incident that Sky Sports reported that Red Bull were enquiring into the possibility that this crash was on purpose, perhaps even with malicious intent.

The much-needed context to this crash doesn’t come from an on-track incident, in fact, it hardly has much to do with the sport at all. Y/N Sainz is an integral figure in this controversy. Earlier this year when it was revealed that her brother, Carlos, wouldn’t be resigning with Ferrari in favour of Lewis Hamilton, Carlos lashed out and revealed his sister’s years-long secret relationship with Sainz’s teammate at the time, Charles Leclerc.

Both Carlos Sainz Jr and Sr immediately threw accusations against their own blood of backstabbing and betrayal, despite it being very clear that Y/N Sainz was none the wiser to Ferrari’s move.

Y/N Sainz is far removed from Formula 1 aside from her relation to Carlos and her relationship with Charles. Y/N Sainz is a successful author who prior to this incident seemed to be in good favour with her family.

Amongst the fallout, further accusations flew from both parties. Y/N accused her father and brother of attempting to sell her off in the paddock for favours from teams while her brother and father regurgitated their points of her supposedly being a ‘gold digger’.

The first round of this controversy also culminated in a courtroom. Sainz Sr took his own daughter to court, claiming that he was entitled to all of her earnings from her book sales. It must also be noted here that those court proceedings exposed that Y/N had never had a bank account of her own, rather that all of her earnings were funnelled to her father to which she was then given a stipend.

Y/N won that court case, as it’ll be likely that her close friend Verstappen will win his. It was ordered that Sainz Sr had to pay back all of her earnings alongside damages. However, it was not the win she had hoped for as Ferrari had a gag order on her boyfriend, meaning she went through the proceedings alone, with distant support from Verstappen and Oscar Piastri.

Following worldwide outrage, this gag order was dropped and the pair were reunited and attended races again as a united front - even picking up a group of rookies that stuck to the side of Y/N.

Leclerc even commented following the crash that he felt it was meant for him, which reinforced the theory that it was premeditated. We’ll keep you updated as the court proceedings continue.

15:30

It is to BBC’s understanding that texts between Sainz Jr and Sr have been revealed to the court that imply a plan to cause as much damage before they are ousted at the end of the season. The texts themselves do not state that Verstappen was the intended target, that incident seemed to be a crime of opportunity. Rather, that Ferrari and Leclerc were the targets of their rage but fortunately for Leclerc in Baku, he was simply too fast for Sainz to catch.

Amongst the texts was on damning one, ‘I’ll put that mongasque cunt in the wall as many times as I can to make sure Y/N can only have her happily ever after with a cripple or a headstone’.

It’s shaping up to be a slam dunk against Carlos Sainz as Red Bull prepare to present their telemetry evidence.

16:45

Our court side reporter states that Red Bull’s telemetry data was damning. Another ‘betrayal’ for the male Sainz contingent as Ferrari happily complied with Red Bull’s investigation, handing over all of the data which conclusively proved that Sainz purposefully crashed into and endangered Max Verstappen.

We now just wait on the final verdict.

17:38

GUILTY!

Carlos Sainz Jr has been given a guilty verdict for endangering a fellow athlete with malicious intent. The Court of Arbitration of Sport has ruled that Sainz is hereby banned from Formula One indefinitely. He will not complete his final season with Ferrari and his entry to the paddock will be monitored on a case-by-case basis.

This is a landmark ruling in the sport but you can’t help but think it was necessary. The sport is dangerous enough, it was simply too dangerous to have a man who admitted in texts to wanting to inflict as much damage as possible on another driver.

yourusername

liked by logansargeant, pepemarti and 2,762,092 others

yourusername: family is not always the people you are born to but the people who you find along the way

view all comments

user390: yeah sis this is cute and all but like your biggest opp just got taken out back and shot let’s dance on his grave a lil bit

pepemarti: dw i’m doing the hoedown throwdown for the whole team 🫡

user391: you’ve just earned stanship good sir

pepemarti: i don’t play about my first celebrity crush

yourusername: you’re making me feel old josep

charles_leclerc: also can you like stop doing the hoedown throwdown you’re being the worst upstairs neighbour ever right now

pepemarti: just because carlos plotted to kill you doesn’t mean you have to take my shine 😖

user391: this is all a bit chill for idk the historic court ruling that just happened

user392: i mean if i were them i’d be getting crunk and celebrating

user393: one of them is literally doing the hoedown throwdown right now???

oscarpiastri: you guys don’t even want to know what max is doing right now

yourusername: yeah lets keep that off the internet for now

user394: not even one morsel queen?

charles_leclerc: max has been arguing (with himself) for an HOUR over how he should give y/n away at her wedding because he BASICALLY DIED for her

maxverstappen1: i don’t detect any lies…

yourusername: you didn’t die though did you

maxverstappen1: i COULD HAVE???

maxverstappen1: if carlos’ aim was better i would be splattered across the concrete walls of baku…

kimiantonelli: GROSS

maxverstappen1: i know kimi, it is gross that they’re minimising my trauma

charles_leclerc: okay buddy we bought you a couple gin and tonics for your trouble

maxverstappen1: SILENCE BOY

yourusername: how could we possibly repay you max?

maxverstappen1: charles could let me past on track?

charles_leclerc: i would rather let carlos make road kill of you

yourusername: CHARLES?

charles_leclerc: too soon?

maxverstappen1: and to think i was going to offer to take lando out for you?

yourusername: you don’t really need prompting for that?

maxverstappen1: it’s the thought that counts !!!

olliebearman: i know linkedin is sick of my ass

olliebearman: thanks for the ferrari drive charles, max and y/n!!!!

yourusername: what the hell, sure you’re welcome ollie

maxverstappen1: i know how you can repay me…

charles_leclerc: don’t listen to him ollie!

maxverstappen1: just got the biggest pain in your ass sent to the shadow realm but god forbid i ask for a cheeky tow

user395: after the absolute shitshow that was the ferrari gag order and the first trial… i prayed for times like this

user396: what will i do now i no longer have carlos to dunk on?

oscarpiastri: real haters find a way

f1

liked by maxverstappen1, olliebearman and 1,308,293 others

tagged: landonorris, oscarpiastri & charles_leclerc

f1: you might have been distracted by the off track drama… but we’re back and the title battle is probably a lot closer than you think… lando is leading the championship, with oscar following three points behind and charles just four points back from him. can ferrari finally clinch a championship in the second half of the season?

view all comments

user397: oh i lowkey forgot about this sport

user398: i was too deep in the how to get away with murder court room drama

user399: you people are what’s wrong with the sport

user400: and not the guy who tried to kill another driver based on the fact that he’s insecure about his sister’s relationship

user401: bro gets indefinitely banned from the sport for a malicious crash and somehow “DTS fangirls” are still the issue for these men

user402: make it make sense

charles_leclerc: what off track drama?

yourusername: we were just enjoying a family trip to switzerland

maxverstappen1: a very cultural trip i will say

olliebearman: the chocolate was yummers

oscarpiastri: never say yummers again

olliebearman: omg god forbid i want to get whimsy with my language choices

oscarpiastri: i think if anyone here is the authority on words it’s the literal author

yourusername: i ain’t getting involved in this nonsense

olliebearman: Y/N ???

user403: oh she really is a MOTHER

user404: I can’t believe my favourite driver has been banned because his sister couldn’t keep it in her pants

user405: and charles kept it in his?

user404: well yes he was clearly seduced

user406: how has this been an argument for over a year and yall are still coming to this conclusion

user407: it’s called hating women babe

user408: but like what do i do with my carlos merch now

user409: you still had that shit?

kimiantonelli: burn it!!!!

yourusername: kimi no!

kimiantonelli: kimi yes!

charles_leclerc: oh wait there’s a damn championship to win

charles_leclerc: idk how to focus just on racing after the past year omg

yourusername: get to winning mr

charles_leclerc: for you, of course

yourusername: i might be in love with you, hopelessly so, but i’m still a part of the tifosi HURRY UP

user410: y/n’s priorities have always been the realest

olliebearman: she just made me cookies and then said if i don’t protect charles from the world’s greatest evil (mclaren) then i’m disowned

landonorris: how are we the worlds greatest evil when your brother and dad plotted to kill charles and nearly killed max

yourusername: i thought i had you blocked?

landonorris: I’M SORRY

yourusername: i… don’t give a fuck - sorry!

charles_leclerc

liked by olliebearman, maxverstappen1 and 3,109,377 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: it’s been a tough ol year this one. alongside a tough title battle, we’ve fought tough personal battles as well. no matter what happens tomorrow, i will forever be grateful to have the most wonderful woman at my side. i love you y/n, this is the start of the rest of our life and i’ll do whatever i can to make you the happiest woman in the world.

view all comments

user411: tough personal battles - and it was him having no backbone

user412: i mean in the court case it literally came out he had a gag order…

user413: well he should sort his gag reflex and get to sucking off

user413: the metaphor got wholly lost there my bad

user413: point is they would’ve had to put my ass in space to keep me from my love who also happens to be the Y/N SAINZ

user414: always saying what we’re all thinking

charles_leclerc: i’m not sucking off fred

user415: i don’t think -

yourusername: oh baby there’s a reason i’m the writer in this household

charles_leclerc: let me live !!!

user416: oh i am so glad that bros biggest personal battle now is reading comprehension

user417: happens to the best of us

user418: idk my brain doesn’t automatically go to sucking off my boss

charles_leclerc: I DIDN’T REALISE

charles_leclerc: IT WAS A BAD METAPHOR

charles_leclerc: @user414 you will pay for your crimes

maxverstappen1: bro can’t read lol

charles_leclerc: SHUT THE FUCK UP

charles_leclerc: did i or did i not write a very cute caption for this post

yourusername: yes! it is very lovely darling

charles_leclerc: HAH

user417: personally i think i could make y/n happier if i am given the chance

charles_leclerc: nuh uh

user418: bro is scared

charles_leclerc: no !!!

user419: he knows he’s outnumbered

oscarpiastri: he’s started pacing

yourusername: guys, i appreciate the sentiment but please refrain from threatening my boyfriend

user420: i demand a TRIAL BY COMBAT

yourusername: girl this ain’t game of thrones

user421: just because charles won’t fight for your hand…

charles_leclerc: YES I WILL I’LL FIGHT ALL OF YOU

olliebearman: my dad has officially gone crazy - and before i solidly made it into the will, you hate to see it

pepemarti: i can’t believe i’m missing out on a charles meltdown 😩

oscarpiastri: he’s shadow boxing with max and i’m pretty sure max is just biding his time to get a hit in on him

maxverstappen1: and that’s for the inchident motherfucker

yourusername: okay! time to stop!

charles_leclerc: this was meant to be a nice post 😖

yourusername: you know i love you baby

yourusername: let’s go win this championship

maxverstappen1: or lose it to me, i don’t mind

charles_leclerc: MAX???

yourusername: really?

maxverstappen1: omg he could win his first championship and now a man can’t make a joke?

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri and 3,987,019 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: i won’t make this post all about karma, but good things come to those who wait… i’m overwhelmingly proud of my boy that i don’t quite know how to put it into words. there’s just something about seeing the person you love achieve their dreams, it’s otherworldly, just like charles. you said this was the start of the rest of our lives? i couldn’t think of a better way to start

view all comments

user422: well if you won't i will

user423: KARMA

fernandoalo_oficial: karma

user424: FERNANDO?

fernandoalo_oficial: KARMA! do i make myself clear

user425: omg the old man said fuck that guy

user426: the two carlos fans left just fell to their knees

user427: TWO? generous.

olliebearman: i COULD !!!!

charles_leclerc: oliver, no meddling

olliebearman: you just won the championship would it kill you to be a little more fun?

charles_leclerc: as much as i love you peoples annoyingly persistent presence in my life, lets leave some things to us

olliebearman: ANNOYING?

olliebearman: after i just won you a championship?

yourusername: ollie...

olliebearman: did i or did i not hold up lando?

landonorris: for like three laps?

olliebearman: CEASE SPEAKING TO ME

charles_leclerc: thank you ollie, those three laps 100% did it

olliebearman: you're welcome ☺️

yourusername: he's such a good dad omg

maxverstappen1: that's one way to put it

user428: bro won the world championship and immediately went into dad mode

user429: i fear y/n might need to make the man a father

oscarpiastri: HE'S A FATHER ALREADY

kimiantonelli: us erasure

pepemarti: there's not enough room for an actual child sorry

yourusername: ???

charles_leclerc: you guys are not helping in any way ever for anything

charles_leclerc: i don't think it'll set in for a long while, but i know now and forever that i love you and that i'm glad you've been by my side through all of it

yourusername: the pleasure has been all mine

maxverstappen1: believe me WE KNOW

yourusername: MAX?

maxverstappen1: sorry i just 100% heard you guys in the drivers room and am SCARRED but yeah you guys go back to being all lovey dovey

kimiantonelli: drivers room?

maxverstappen1: i protected your innocence, never say i don't do things for you people again

user430: well at least we know he didn't just get lucky on track

yourusername: gUYS?

charles_leclerc: anyway!

charles_leclerc: i love you !!! and your strength has inspired me since i met you and all throughout this season!

yourusername: i need you to know that i love you and i would do this all again 100 times if i meant that i would still be with you and see us achieve our dreams

charles_leclerc: you have my heart, forever and always

yourusername: as do you, you're my 1

user431: they're so sickeningly sweet

user432: thinking about a wedding... i might die

user433: it's defo happening - i can see right through you ollie

olliebearman: I SAID NOTHING

charles_leclerc: ugh. ollie !!!!!

yourusername: be patient charles - you chose him as a kid

charles_leclerc: well let me know when we can make our own and we can get busy

maxverstappen1: ENOUGH.

fin. EPILOGUE COMING SOON...

note: yes guys i did fall into a hole and forget about this blog - jokes! but life did get super busy, so i just had to get this out before i go on holiday this weekend !!! i hope you enjoyed and can now enjoy reading guilty as sin in its entirety (well, nearly). i have a long journey so i will be working on my other WIPs lol don't worry.

taglist: @2pagenumb @marshmummy @dullypully @scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir @minkyungseokie @sarah-thatstings-ann @callsignwidow @six-call @babyphotos0325 @velentine @honethatty12 @halleest @bruinsfan234 @woozarts @jaydaaasworld @random-human02 @blueberry64857959 @shimmermotorsport @xoscar03 @danielshoe @deamus-liv @jiminssmallpinkyy @eugene-emt-roe @emryb @aadu2173 @rhythmstars @booksandflowrs @2bormaybenot @firelily-mimi @evie-119 @mehrsdigitaldiary @sltwins @bibissparkles @evans-dejong @eiaaasamantha @23victoria @venusacrossthestars @boywondrgrayson @rare2306 @sinarainbows @chaoticbouquetangel @awritingtree @armystay89 @ggrgcribg @ct2302 @czennieszn @swangelss @sumlovesjude @hashmiya @airsky27 @chaoticbouquetangel @chenlesbitxh @iamkaku @scorpiomindfuck @samantha-chicago @trevuorzegras @personwhoisther @green-thots @madszoca @silentreader128 @buckybarnessweetheart @justzluv@toldyouitwasamelodrama @crowsnfrogs @charlesgirl16 @reguluscrystals @hiireadstuff @destinyg237 @mael1pastry @sweet-creature98 @changetyre @eclipsedcherry @its-elias-world @brune77e @exotic-iris13 @alenix @sheridamn @boherahpsody @e-nonsense @vogueprincess @loloekie @dckgzz @cluvsya