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tinydeskwriter · 10 months ago

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Hi! Can I have a little bit of a headcanon of piastri!sister in a super uncomfortable situation like in a club or something where a past fling probably starts irritating her and Carlos is like a knight in shining armour (but they’re not dating) and he teases her about it but also worried about her

KEEP THEM COMING !!!

read little bitch here

Carlos didn't want to be at this club. The music was too loud, the air too thick with sweat and perfume. But Lando had insisted, saying they needed to blow off steam after the race.His eyes scanned the crowded room, more out of habit than interest.

That's when he saw her.

YN was at the bar, alone, idly stirring a cocktail. Even in the chaotic atmosphere of the club, she stood out. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, and she wore a sleek black dress that hugged her curves. Carlos felt his breath catch in his throat.

He'd always found YN attractive, of course. It was an objective fact, like acknowledging that the sky was blue. But he'd buried that awareness under layers of annoyance and rivalry. She was Oscar's sister, a constant annoyance in his side in the paddock. Their interactions were a mess of arguments and sarcastic jabs.

And yet, watching her now, Carlos felt a pull he couldn't quite explain.

He was about to look away when he noticed a guy approaching YN. Tall, handsome in a generic way, with an easy smile that spoke of confidence. Something twisted in Carlos's gut as he watched the man lean in close to YN, placing a hand on the small of her back.

Carlos told himself the feeling was just protectiveness. YN was part of the F1 family, after all. It was natural to feel concerned for her. It had nothing to do with the way his fists clenched when the guy's hand brushed YN's arm, or how his jaw tightened as he watched them talk.

He should look away. This wasn't any of his business. YN was more than capable of handling herself.

But as he continued to watch, Carlos noticed a change in YN's body language. Her smile became fixed, her shoulders tensing. She shifted slightly, trying to put some distance between herself and the man, but he just moved closer.

Carlos felt a surge of anger. Before he could talk himself out of it, he was moving through the crowd, his eyes fixed on YN. As he got closer, he could hear snippets of their conversation over the music.

"Come on, YN," the guy was saying, his hand now on the small of her back. "For old times' sake."

"I told you, Jake, I'm not interested," YN replied, trying to step away.

Carlos reached them just as Jake grabbed YN's wrist. Without thinking, acting purely on instinct, Carlos slipped his arm around YN's waist, pulling her close.

"There you are, hermosa," he said loudly, making sure Jake could hear him over the music. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

As YN's eyes met his, wide with surprise but also relief, Carlos felt a rush of emotions he wasn't prepared for. Protectiveness, yes, but also something warmer that felt dangerously close to affection. He pushed the feeling aside, focusing instead on the task at hand: getting YN away from this Jake character.

"Carlos! I was just... catching up with an old friend."

Carlos turned to Jake, fixing him with a cold stare. "And who might you be?"

Jake looked between them, confusion and annoyance warring on his face. "I'm Jake. YN and I used to date."

"Used to," Carlos emphasized, tightening his grip on YN's waist. "Past tense. Now, if you'll excuse us..."

He guided YN away from the bar, not stopping until they reached a quieter corner of the club. As soon as they were alone, Carlos dropped his arm from her waist, immediately missing the warmth of her body against his.

"You okay?" he asked, genuine concern coloring his voice.

YN nodded, running a hand through her hair. "Yeah, I'm fine. Jake's just... persistent."

Carlos couldn't help the smirk that spread across his face. "So, do you often need knights in shining armor to rescue you from clingy exes?"

YN rolled her eyes, but he could see the hint of a smile on her lips. "Shut up, Sainz. I had it under control."

"Of course you did," he teased. "That's why you looked so comfortable back there."

She punched his arm lightly. "I didn't ask for your help, you know."

"And yet, here I am, your fake boyfriend for the evening."

YN snorted. "Please. As if I'd ever date you for real."

Carlos clutched his chest in mock hurt. "You wound me, Piastri. I'll have you know I'm quite the catch."

"In your dreams, little bitch," she retorted, but there was no real heat in her words.

Carlos looked at her then, really looked at her. The club lights played across her face, highlighting the curve of her cheek, the spark in her eyes. For a moment, he let himself imagine what it would be like if he could pull her close and...

He shook his head, banishing the thought. This was YN, his rival's sister, the bane of his existence in the paddock. They argued more than they talked. It would never work.

"Well," Carlos said, forcing lightness into his tone, "since I've saved you from the big bad ex, I suppose my work here is done. Try not to get into any more trouble, okay? I can't always be around to play hero."

YN rolled her eyes again, but her smile was genuine this time. "I think I can manage. But... thanks, Carlos. Really."

He nodded, suddenly feeling awkward. "Anytime, YN. I mean, not anytime. This isn't going to be a regular thing. The fake boyfriend thing, I mean. Because that would be..."

"Ridiculous?" YN supplied.

"Exactly," Carlos agreed, perhaps a bit too quickly. "Completely ridiculous."

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tinydeskwriter · 10 months ago

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Feels Like Sabotage - Charles Leclerc x Red Bull! Reader

Summary: The Grid have decided that this is the season to see who can injure Yn the most. (Not intentionally, they all feel terrible about it). Fed up of seeing his girlfriend injured, Charles decides to enact revenge.

Pairing: Platonic! Grid x reader. Charles Leclerc x Reader (slight)

Warnings: swearing, slight injury

Word count: 3.3k

F1 Masterlist

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#1 Lando Norris

Cheers thundered throughout the track, vibrating through the floor and buzzing into the bodies of the podium winners. Max Verstappen stood in the middle, arms raised high as he bared his Grand Prix trophy to the roaring crowd. Another successful race, another win under his belt. The Dutch anthem was still ringing in his ears, and his smile widened as he turned to his left, finding his teammate beaming with her P3 trophy in hand. A double podium for Red Bull and another step closer to the Constructors Championship.

Jumping down from the P2 podium, Lando raced over to his friends, eager to share in their victories. He threw his arms around Max and Yn, dragging them both into a hug and shouting congratulations into their ears. Disentangling herself from the papaya racer, Yn turned to face the crowd, eyes scanning for a dark-haired Ferrari racer. Dimples deepening as he made eye contact with her, Charles blew his girlfriend a celebratory kiss. Unimpressed that Yn was distracted and not listening to his overjoyed shouts, Lando waved his arms about in front of her, hoping to garner her attention. Miscalculating his movements, his face morphed from delight to terror. Around them, cameras caught the moment that Yn’s face morphed from heart eyes to pain as the trophy came into contact with her skull.

“Oh, fuck! Yn, I am so sorry! Oh, no. That was so hard.”

Recoiling from the McLaren driver, her free hand came up to nurse the red mark forming on her forehead. Lando chased after her, apologies spilling from his mouth. Yn beat him back with her elbow.

“Did you just hit me with your trophy?” Yn asked in shock. “I didn’t even beat you.”

“I didn’t mean to. I was waving it about and…”

“And they say F1 drivers are coordinated,” chuckled Max, walking over to his teammate to inspect the damage done to her skull. He winced jokingly, fingers prodding the dark bruise forming. “Oh, dear, you have a bump.”

“Your protective P instincts are kicking in.” She teased, jerking back as pain lanced down the side of her face. “You going to put a Disney princess sticker on it next?”

Max laughed, the melodic sound breaking through the ringing in her ears. “No, no. I will save those for Lando after Charles runs him off the track.”

The three winners glanced down at the aforementioned Ferrari driver, although Lando quickly looked away. Fury blazed in his blue eyes at the dark mark on her forehead.

Sighing deeply, Yn placed the bag of ice (long since melted into water) on the table in her driver’s room. Post-podium interviews were always draining but it seemed to drag more so today. Although that might have partly been due to the pounding headache and the dull ache behind her eyes. After the disaster on the podium, the journalists had focused less on their momentous success and more on the injury she had sustained at the hands of Lando Norris.

The internet had already turned their moment into a meme, laughing at the incident, but the journalists decided to take a different route, complaining that Lando had done it deliberately. Fielding those questions was always soul-destroying, especially when they liked to twist whatever you said. Three short knocks sounded at her door, and it clicked open before she could turn from the mirror.

“Mon amour.” Charles’ head poked between the gap before wincing slightly at the look on her face. “Does it hurt? I can’t believe Lando hit you.”

“He’s like an excitable toddler.”

Charles pulled her into his arms, glancing down at his bruised girlfriend. “You look like an œuf.”

“Saying it in French doesn’t make it any less insulting, Charles.”

“You are the most beautiful egg I have ever seen,” he grinned, pressing a kiss to the wound Lando had left.

#2 Daniel Ricciardo

Sweat ran down the back of Yn’s neck as she gripped the steering wheel harder, flying through turn six. She tapped the brake slightly as the back of a Ferrari came closer, slowing down.

“What is he doing?”

“Leclerc seems to be having an issue.”

“No shit. He fucking slowed right down.”

“Overtake when you can.”

“Tell me how to do my job, why don’t you?”

Pushing the car forward, she inched past the Ferrari as they approached the next turn. Her teeth clenched tightly together as he faded from view, running right alongside her. She felt sweat run down her cheek as her heart pounded in her chest and tried to focus on her breathing. She could do this. Just a little more.

“Fantastic job,” her engineer praised. “P5 now.”

Glancing in the mirror, she startled at the sight of Charles skidding off the track and onto the gravel, coming to a stop just before the barrier.

“Is he okay?”

“Gearbox malfunction. Leclerc is fine and out of the car. Car behind is Ricciardo, two seconds.”

“Okay.”

Relieved that Charles was fine, Yn returned her attention back to the track, doing her best to keep the McLaren behind her.

“Defend. He’s going to try and overtake.”

Turning the corner, Yn kept on the inside, yanking the wheel in order to achieve the tight turn. Despite pulling left, she felt the car veer off to the right, ignoring her command as she slammed her foot down on the brake. Her body snapped forward as the car came to a sudden stop, smacking into the foam barrier. The plastic coating with Pirelli splashed across it broke, landing atop her head.

“You okay?”

“What the fuck was that?!”

“Ricciardo made contact.”

“No shit. He fucking shunted me into the wall!”

“Obviously we’re going to have to retire the car.”

The cameras honed in on the Red Bull racer as she pulled herself out of the car. The crowd sighed in relief, pleased that she was alright but recoiled as she turned, violently kicking part of the plastic barrier. “Fuck!”

Storming over to the McLaren garage, Yn called out for the other driver forced to DNF. Behind them, the race was continuing, only another ten laps left to determine who would find their way onto the podium. And Yn wasn’t one of them.

“What the fuck was that! Do you know how to drive?”

“Me? You turned into me!”

“Don’t give me that shit! I was ahead of you, I was doing my turn first! You fucking clipped my wheel because you didn’t leave enough space and you want to blame me.”

Flashes of light went off around them, capturing the furious racer as she yelled at the sheepish Australian.

“I am sorry but coming in here to yell at me won’t put you back in the race.”

“No, it won’t because my car is fucked! Learn to fucking drive next time.”

“A pleasure talking to you as always, LN.”

“Suck my dick!” She yelled back, ignoring the numerous journalists smirking to themselves over their next juicy headline.

Debriefed and dismissed for the evening, Yn dragged her weary body out of the Red Bull motorhome. Despite having been cleared by medical, she was covered in bruises and looking forward to a night off.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Charles teased, taking his hand out of his pockets and holding it out for her. Lacing her fingers through his, Yn’s broke out in a smile when he pulled her closer.

“You didn’t have to wait for me.”

“What sort of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t drive you back to the hotel after your accident.”

“But, my car-”

“Will be dropped off later. I’ve already sorted it, mon ange.”

“You take such good care of me.”

Charles bent down, lips tracing her ear. “It does not end here. What do you say we take a bath when we get back?”

Yn laughed, leaning into him as his breath tickled her neck. Before she could answer, the pair of them were out of the paddock and assaulted by the media.

“Yn. Yn. How are things between you and Daniel after your argument today? Things looked to be quite heated.”

“Daniel and I will be fine. We haven’t spoken since our argument but it’s very hard to remain mad at someone like Daniel.”

“Charles, do you feel the same way? After all, it was your girlfriend he crashed into.”

“Obviously there was a bit of anger at seeing someone you care about crash. Um, but Yn is a driver much like anyone else. These things happen. If she forgives him then that is all that matters.”

The two drivers excuses themselves, walking past the rest of the media without stopping. Charles’ arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close. A muscle in his jaw ticked and he was relieved when they entered the safety of his car.

“You handled that very well.”

“Could you tell I was furious?”

“No. You were very diplomatic.”

“Just another name to add to my list of people to hit with my car.”

“Char, you can’t say things like that,” giggled Yn.

“Only to you.”

#3 Lewis Hamilton

Waving at the crowd, Yn made her way across the paddock, eager for the day ahead. Another Sunday, another race, another chance at the podium. Stopping every now and then to take pictures with fans, Yn chatted animatedly with her PR manager as they discussed her upcoming media obligations. Unlike her teammate, she was much more amiable towards media appearances but only enjoyed the ones that didn’t feel more like a conference.

“Beep beep,” a British voice called out behind her, alerting the two women clad in Red Bull polos that he was approaching. “Good morning, lovely ladies.”

He pulled up alongside them, foot slipping off the brake. Instead of coming to a stop, he felt the scooter roll over a bump in the end. Jumping off the two-wheeled contraption, he winced as his on-track rival hopped around clutching her left foot.

“I am so sorry. I didn’t realise your foot was right there.”

“Why can’t you walk like everyone else?” She grumbled, wincing at the throbbing sensation when she put her foot flat on the ground.

“Because it’s slower?” He offered weakly, looping her arm around his shoulders and helping her hop the remaining feet towards the Red Bull garage.

Interested in the laces of her shoes, Yn shuffled in her seat. The top half of her racing suit had been discarded, tied around her waist, but when she sat down the sleeves had created an uncomfortable mound. P4 had been a helpful finish for the battle for Constructors but she couldn't help the disappointment at her finish. Lando, noticing her movements, asked if she was still in pain. One of the journalists called her name, preventing her from answering.

“We noticed you limping earlier when you got out of the car. Was that in relation to the videos of Lewis helping you into the Red Bull garage earlier?”

Lewis shifted awkwardly in his seat, offering the young woman another apologetic smile.

“Uh, yes. Unfortunately, earlier today, Lewis ran over my foot with his scooter. I have some lovely bruising to show for it.”

“Do you blame Lewis? Do you think that was what stopped you from achieving P1? Perhaps it was deliberate.”

“Both Lewis and Toto made their way down to the Red Bull garage to apologise personally. It absolutely wasn’t sabotage. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Unfortunately, yes, my boot was tied looser than usual, and putting pressure on my foot was painful in terms of braking. However, the onus is on me in terms of my performance. I don’t feel like I gave it my best today, and Max is very fast,” she finished with a laugh, earning scattered laughter from the room.

A buzz sounded in her pocket and she discreetly slipped her phone from it, checking the notification. The little race car next to the name had her smiling.

Charles: You. Me. Celebration later? I’ll find the greasiest food

Yn: I miss you. This conference sucks

Charles: No, you miss being in the podium conference. Don’t lie to me x

Yn: That too

#4 Max Verstappen

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is another perfect 1-2 for Red Bull! I imagine it’s smiles all around in their garage.”

The Dutch anthem was still ringing in her ears when the 2nd place trophy was placed in her hands. Grin plastered across her face, Yn raised her trophy high in the air, relishing in the roar of her team, watching down below. Once Charles’ trophy had been securely handed over, and the presenters had scurried off the stage to safety, Max lunged forward for the large champagne bottle. Shaking it profusely, he popped the cork and aimed at his teammate.

Not even having time to reach for her own bottle, Yn was waterboarded by the bubbly liquid. Spluttering violently, she clapped her hands over her face, trying to ward off the onslaught of champagne. It was up her nose, down her throat and, most painfully, burning her right eye.

“Max, you bastard,” she hissed, stumbling towards the edge of the stage where her engineer was waiting with a damp towel. Pressing it tight against her eye, she grumbled to herself about the dangers of champagne.

“Oh, bebe, not another injury.” Charles murmured, glancing at her bloodshot eye. Champagne rolled off the tip of his hat, flicking the tip of her nose.

Max bounded over next, laughing in elation at his win. He apologised at the sight of her eye but it felt a tad insincere when he followed it with, “They should call you the driver’s champion of non-race related injuries.”

“More like the champion of idiotic work colleagues.”

“Don’t be like that. You love me really.” Max pulled her in for a headlock, wet arms wrapping around her head. Yn stomped on his foot when another drop of champagne rolled into her stinging eye.

Fiddling with the cord of her microphone, Yn’s high from achieving P2 faded with each passing moment. Winning a podium was euphoric until she remembered it entailed a ninety minutes press-conference afterwards. Ignoring how badly she wanted food, Yn leaned over, whispering to Max, who looked as equally bored as she.

Charles’ hand slipped from her thigh as she moved, and he shook his head with a smile when he caught her gossiping. Her teammate grinned at whatever she said before the pair of them heard her name being called. Snapping to attention, Yn pulled away from Max and sat upright in her chair.

“Apologies but would you mind repeating the question?” Yn asked sheepishly.

“Following your recent accidents at the hands of your fellow racers, there’s rumours flying around that the male members of the Grid are opposed to your presence on the track. Care to comment?”

Yn leant forward towards her mic. “I must admit I’m starting to believe these rumours,” she let out a small laugh, informing everyone she was joking. “No, no. In all seriousness, I do seem to be getting attacked an awful lot by my fellow racers this season - uh, most recently was being blinded by Max after the podium - but I don’t believe there is any animosity behind it. They’ve all been very apologetic. I’m just unfortunate.”

“Mon amour maladroite,” whispered Charles but the microphone picked it up regardless.

Fake frowning at him, she reiterated for the crowd. “There’s a lot of love between me and the rest of the drivers so these are all just inCHIdents.”

Charles looked at her in shock, offended by her mockery. “Hey!” He whined. “I’m the only person not trying to sabotage you.”

Yn pressed an apologetic kiss to his cheek and the cameras lapped up the rare glimpse of affection between the two during a race weekend.

Charles' Revenge

A race in Monaco meant that the majority of drivers were able to spend the week beforehand at home. Padding across the living room barefoot, Yn made her way towards the kitchen. Wrapping her arms around Charles’ waist, she pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades. He turned in her arms, beaming down at her in his oversized hoodie. After her racing suit, this look was his favourite.

“Thank you for helping me with this, handsome.”

“Help you? It was my idea, mon coeur. Especially because you would not let me run them off the track.”

“Because that is…” she prompted.

“Dangerous,” he finished with a pout.

The doorbell alerted them to the arrival of their first dinner guest, and she smirked to herself before flitting over to the door. Max stood there nervously, a bouquet of flowers in hand. She stepped aside to let him in, and thanked him when he handed the large flower bunch to her.

“To apologise for blinding you, and to thank you for dinner.”

“That’s very sweet of you, Max,” she inhaled the sweet fragrance of the flowers, almost feeling bad for deceiving him. He probably deserved this the least but her boyfriend needed a way to release his anger. “I’m going to put them in some water. Charles is in the main room with some sport thingy on the television. Gin and tonic?”

“Just one.” He nodded, placing his discarded shoes on the rack before sloping off in search of the brunette driver.

Hands clasped, Charles and Yn placed dishes of pasta in front of Lando, Daniel, Lewis and Max, smiling when they thanked them. Yn was well-known for her cooking throughout the paddock, often cooking sweet treats in the week and bringing them in for the Grid to share. Having a birthday on a racing weekend was a much coveted holiday because it meant a homemade cake from the Red Bull racer.

Watching as each of them took a big mouthful, she watched them all grimace in disgust when they swallowed. Taking a sip of wine before speaking, she informed them of the true reason behind their meal. “I lied to you. I didn’t cook dinner for you this evening.”

The four of them turned to face the devious Ferrari driver looking innocently at them, horror plastered across their faces. “Charles did.”

Friday - Practice

“Four F1 drivers are reportedly suffering from food poisoning. Perhaps a racing dinner gone wrong? They’re still set to race on Sunday, just two days from now, but images of them have emerged from today’s free practice, and the four look particularly under the weather.”

Seated opposite her Team Principal, Yn fiddled with her fingers as Christian berated her. Shame crept up the back of her neck and for the fifth time that day, she wished Charles was with her. Hands perched on his hips, Christian stared down at her, waiting for an explanation.

“I didn’t think they’d be ill for this long?” She defended weakly. “I just thought they’d suffer through a gross meal and that would be the end of it. I bought pizza afterwards!”

“You let them eat Charles’ food! What did you think would happen? The boy can’t cook.”

“Oops…?”

Christian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You could’ve at least left Max out of it.”

“He blinded me!”

“And I’d do it again!” Max groaned, clutching his stomach. Sweat beaded his forehead despite the cool compress resting atop it.

“The alternative was Charles pushing you off the track,” she shot back.

“He’d have to catch me first,” argued Max.

The two drivers broke out into good-natured bickering, voices raising as they got more heated. Sighing yet again, the Red Bull principal sank into his chair and muttered to himself, “I’m working with children.”

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A/N: I'm not sure what this is (laugh) I apologise but writing fics isn't my strong suit. I should probably stick to smau's lol

On that note, requests for F1 smau's are open. You can see who I write for on my masterlist :)

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tinydeskwriter · 10 months ago

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lando norris being down bad for his girlfriend: a compilation

summary: lando norris can’t help but talk about his girlfriend whenever he cans, fans make compilation videos about it

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Lando Norris could be described as someone who's not scared of saying whatever crossed his mind.

And that's why he never, ever, missed the opportunity to talk about his girlfriend whenever he had the chance.

He mentioned her during interviews, press conferences, social media post and even fan interactions. To the point where fans started making compilation videos with all the moments he publicly obsessed over his girlfriend.

The most popular one gathered millions of views on YouTube, showing multiple occasions Lando couldn't help but be down bad for her.

The video started with a clip from Q&A with fans, someone asked him about his favorite way to relax after a race. Without missing a beat, Lando replied, "Cuddling up with my girlfriend, of course. Nothing beats that."

"You're really whipped man, It's embarrassing," Oscar, his teammate, teased beside him, making the audience laugh.

"It's not, really." Lando shrugged proudly.

The next clip was taken from McLaren's Tiktok account, their content creator tried to do the "Can you watch my ___ for a second" prank on Lando.

"Oh my girlfriend already did this prank to me," Lando said, laughing at the camera, "Baby, If you're watching this, I miss you. Your pranks are way better than McLaren's"

The video moved to show Lando during a post-qualifying interview, his suit hanging by his waist and his fireproofs showing, when asked about his strategy for the race, he cheekily replied, "Well, first I'm going to call my girlfriend for some good luck wishes. Then, I'll focus on getting to the front."

"Zak Brown should hire your girlfriend as your strategist then," the interviewer joked.

"That would be great but I don't think we would be getting any job done. You know what they say about mixing business with pleasure."

The next clip showed Lando with his friend and fellow driver Max Fewtrell, playing a trivia game about how well did they knew each other. Max had to answer what was Lando's worst habit.

"I'm going to say leaving dirty plates around the house," he said, showing his board, "You do mate, admit it."

"My girlfriend would agree on that," he admitted, "She's always complaining about it."

"I don't know how she's still living with you."

"Because she loves me, and I would die if she leaves me."

On the same note, a video of Oscar teasing Lando followed right after.

"Who's most likely to snore?" Lando read the question, and Oscar quickly put ut the cutout with Lando's face, "How are you so sure? You didn't even hesitate."

"Mate, I've heard you, plus your girlfriend literally complained about not being able to sleep properly last night because you kept snoring."

"I did keep her up last night, but it wasn't just because of the snoring," Lando said, a cheeky grin on his face.

"Put the not safe for work disclaimer at the beginning of this video please."

The next segment was from Lando's own Youtube channel, he was doing a little vlog in Miami before the race weekend.

"Hi everyone," he said, filming himself in the mirror with his camera, "Today I'm back with another LandoLog, I'm going to be filming some behind the scenes of this Miami weekend, so without further ado, let's go," he moved the camera around, focusing on his girlfriend who was putting some mascara on her eyelashes, "Here's my beautiful girl, who takes ages to get ready. Say hi baby."

"Hi everyone," his girlfriend waved, laughing, "I'm not taking ages, I'm just making sure I look good."

"You always look good for me," Lando said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before turning the camera back to himself, "See, I told you she's the best."

The next clip showed Lando and Oscar together once again, this time they were giving a tour around the McLaren hub.

"This is my driver's room," Lando said as he opened the door, "It's cleaner than Oscar's, clearly, and looks like I have a bed."

Lando moved to put together the small bed that was behind the door, "This is an upgrade from last year, we didn't have this. I'll be definitely giving it some good use, to nap or with my girlfriend."

"Can we have a video where you're not a horndog please?" Oscar said, putting his hands on his hips.

"You're the horndog, I never said what we were going to use it for, we're just going to cuddle."

The video moved to show one of Lando's post race interviews after winning the Miami GP, he had been asked ho would be the most excited person about this win besides him.

"My girlfriend, definitely. I couldn't have done it without her," Lando said, his voice filled with emotion, "She's been my biggest supporter, my inspiration, and my motivation. This win is as much hers as it is mine."

The video then cut to a scene from Lando's gaming stream with Max Verstappen. The two drivers were deep into a game of Call of Duty, their banter and laughter filling the screen. Lando was focused, his eyes glued to the monitor as he coordinated with Max.

Just then, Lando's phone buzzed on the table beside him. He glanced at the screen and his expression softened, the comment section noticing, "Hey, mate, I need to go. My girl needs me for something," he said, setting down his controller.

"Lando! Are you serious right now?" Max said, his eyes still glued to the screen.

"I am, see ya," he turned to the camera, smiling not so apologetically "Sorry, guys, duty calls. See you next time."

The last scene was a snippet from an interview, Lando had been asked what he saw in his future.

He paused, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Honestly? I see a lot of racing, hopefully some championships," he laughed, "but most importantly, I see her. I can't imagine my life without her."

The screen faded to black, showing a text that read: Get you a man who is as down for you as Lando Norris is for his girlfriend.

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tinydeskwriter · 10 months ago

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Friday | 2024 Dutch Grand Prix 🇳🇱

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tinydeskwriter · 10 months ago

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Training Season| Häkkinen!driver!reader

A/N: so this has being in my drafts since January, after Hamilton announcement, the calendar is a little off because I used the 2023 calendar when writing, but I would like to point out that I wrote that Lando has three podiums with Charles and Max and finishes second in the Championship. Also I had big hopes for Williams this year, I know, but hope is a fools gold so... sue me. This is kind of a super rookie scenario where she can be a beddie even in a Williams.

ships: I am not sure yet... It can either be Landoxreader or Charlesxreader, I was unsure even when writing...

Y/n Häkkinen was signed by Williams for the 24’ season, taking the seat previously owned by Sergeant. The young Monegasque driver was the 2023 F2 champion and 2022 F3 champion, the daughter of double-World Champion, Mika Häkkinen, her seat at the team came backed by some big sponsors—sponsors that had supported her career since the early days.

She’s also the first woman on the grid since Giovanna Amati in the 90’s, which in itself brings a lot of attention to the team.

Williams is the gateway for her to prove herself to the world.

The door that no other team would have opened for an untested female rookie.

Their 2024 car is ok-ish, good, but not really great. Yet, it does not stop her from overtaking several drivers with better cars and far more years on the grid than her.

She bulldozes her way on each track from the get-go, driving in a level far above her paycheck and far beyond her years of experience, leaving her own teammate and stronger teams in her wake.

She does not win her first race.

She never expected to do so in a Williams, however she does end up in the podium, below Norris and Verstappen. Though she’s not the day’s winner, the reporters seem far more interested in the only girl on grid pushing her Williams to a third place than in Red Bull’s three times World Champion or McLaren’s golden boy.

She’s the first women to ever put foot on a F1 podium—and on her very first race too.

Y/n Hakkinen is history in the making, a bold French journalist states.

One that the press finds a lot more interesting and appealing than the 7 times world champion that does not seem anywhere near his eighth title, or the current one, who can’t stop winning, until now.

Her second race, Jeddah, is another show of great skill, another podium, she finishes the race once again on third place. Scoring in just two races more points than Williams scored the whole of the last season.

In Australia she takes second.

When it comes to the comparisons, her rookie year can only be compared to Hamilton, she demonstrates the same prodigious talent on the track that the seven-time champion did in 2007, with the added mystic of doing so in a midfield car—she eventually breaks a few of his records, most consecutive podium finishes and most points in a debut, but she does not bet his record of most wins in a debut season.

Though she admits that Hamilton is one of her F1 idols she does not accept to be called the next Hamilton, “It is 2024, we should stop comparing people, I am not the next anybody, I am the first and only Y/n Häkkinen, thank you.”

There is no denying that she’s popular with the public, who find the quiet Monegasque who sings in her radio during races quite endearing.

She warm and inviting to the public and with fans, however, does not get closer with the other drivers until after her first win.

It is in Imola, the seventh race of the season.

She had developed a bit of an arrogant/cocky reputation with the lack of interaction with the rest of the grid—not even with her own teammate—and monosyllabic answers to the press.

At Ferrari’s home race she qualified third, behind Leclerc and Norris. On race day Sainz DNS’s, Verstappen has trouble with his car from the beginning and DNF’s and Russell crashes against the barrier taking out Alonso and Piastri.

Y/n/n overtakes Leclerc on the 22nd lap, and after some battling from the older Monegasque to regain position, she proceeds to lead the remaining of the race until the finish line, sharing the podium with Ferrari and McLaren, leaving the world speechless.

A Williams beating a Ferrari…in Imola.

She has a celebratory dinner with the team, picking up the bill and thanking everyone for the hard work, apologizes for sometimes being so closed and difficult to approach and promises to do better. Alex finally breaks his teammate's out of her shell, after only seven races, the two have a long—first conversation—during dinner, the Monegasque confesses that she kept her distance because she never got along with teammates, they always end up resenting her for winning—God forbids a girl winning in Formula.

The dinner ends up with Alex and Lily dragging her to a nightclub to meet with a few of the other drivers—who were celebrating Leclerc and Norris podium.

Most seemed shocked by her arriving alongside the couple—and the fact that she was dressed in something that didn't have the Williams logo in it—overall, after the initial chock, everyone was surprisingly welcoming. It surprises everyone that Y/n/n, is far from being the Ice Queen portrayed by the media, with monosyllabic answers and cold glares—she earns some points when as the winner of the day she puts her card on the bar to pay for drinks.

She gives as good as she gets to Pierre’s natural flirting, amusing everyone around, declares herself in love with Kika and Lily—Oscar’s girl—after half an hour talking about fashion. She sings with Yuki on top of her lungs, dances with Lando and Arthur and drinks them both under the table. At the end of the night leaves the club between George and Charles, the two most sober ones of the group, Albon's blazer jacket around her shoulders and a pair of sunglasses she doesn't remember who she got from covering her eyes.

Photos of the night appear all over the internet in gossip pages, there is speculation and some amount of hate in her comment section bellow her photos on Instagram, and although none of those involved or their teams comment on anything, it becomes clear in the following races that it was nothing more than a bonding moment between the rookie and the other drivers on the grid.

Being social does not affect her performance on track, she comes in seventh in Monaco after tire problems, fifth in Austria, and takes her second win in Silverstone.

For the first time in years, it seems like Williams Racing has a shot at the Championship, surprising all—though it is undeniable that the public loves an underdog by the growing number of Williams fans at each race wearing caps with the number eight and the soaring numbers on Y/n social medias.

It is after Silverstone that the other teams start to approach her about her next season, eager to bring her to the front row after she showed what she’s capable of with a Williams.

“I have yet to think about my future, as of now, I am focused on do my best with Williams.” She says during the press conference after avoiding several questions of the same content. “Deciding where I will be next season is something I have to do with a very cool head, without getting carried away by sentimentality. Like many drivers here, I have many dreams, but my main goal is to win. That's the only answer I'll give on the matter."

The press quickly catches on in the ‘bidding war’ amongst the teams for the hot commodity that is the prodigious young Monegasque.

Not to say that every race is perfect. Y/n/n is a consistent driver, but sometimes crashes are beyond her own control. Ocon crashed on her in Baku ending her race on the 15th lap, and at Spa she is unable to avoid crashing into Pierre after being hit by George and Zhou.

After several rollovers, Y/n/n ends up upside down, the driver is quick to turn off the engine, but it doesn't take long to notice that she has no radio and probably has a sprained wrist, which leaves her unable to get out of the car on her own.

She felt like a lifetime, when it barely took more than two minutes for Pierre and George to get to her—their own crash site not being far—and help her slide out of what is left of her car. Y/n watches the rest of the race from the medical unit, but she is there for the podium, with her wrist bandaged, smiling and cheering Lando third win of the season, a podium once again shared with Charles and Max.

Zandvoort is good, but not half as good as Y/n/n would have liked, it was almost a month in between Belgium and Netherlands, and her wrist is fully healed she had no excuse for not doing better.

After personally meeting with Toto Wolff in Monaco during the break for talks about taking a seat at Mercedes, the last think she wants is to underperform. She had other offers. But she won't be Verstappen's second at Red Bull, and she won't carry Stroll on her back at Aston Martin, much less wait two years for Audi debut in 26’, she’s too hungry for wins to wait.

It is after taking second place in Monza, that Y/n gives the go ahead so that her manager—her father—starts negotiating a contract with Mercedes.

Car issues stresses her out in Singapore and Suzuka. But she's more of a social butterfly as the season starts to come to an end.

By the time Interlagos arrives her contract with Mercedes in signed, securing a seat for her in 2025.

In Abu Dhabi, the last race of the calendar, she has her father by her side—and her older brothers, who did not attend for most of the season due to their own careers, are present. It's easy to see how important the three men are to Y/n—although she races with her father's surname, and the same number as he did, she does so under the Monegasque flag instead of the Finnish.

They say that when your career is soaring, your love life does not exist, and it couldn't be truer for her.

Her rookie year is one for the motorsport history books.

Y/n signs a Netflix deal for a Drive to Survive’ spin-off focused on women in motorsport and her own career. Brands she always admired reach out for endorsement deals and ambassadorship.

However, she never knows if a guy is interested in her or the privileges of dating a Formula One driver.

She did not take part in the podium at Yas Marina, yet her final position at the parc fermé kept her with just enough points to finish the Championship in third place.

Max is once again the World Champion, but different from previous years, it was not without sweat, this time it was a tough competition with Lando in his McLaren and the points difference between the first and second is tight.

To end the year on a high note, Y/n/n presents the entire Williams team with gift baskets, a kind of thank you and farewell gift, even though no one would know that she signed with Mercedes for a few more days. All the drivers receive a gift from her during Secret Santa, nothing too extravagant, she still feels shy about giving them a gift.

The announcement of Y/n/n's signing with Mercedes comes hours before the FIA Prize Giving Ceremony, it is posted with a photo of Y/n on George's right, both in Tommy Hilfinger apparel, Toto in the middle just a little behind his young drivers—looking every bit like a Ralph Lauren dad, proud of his preppy children, as a user on X pointed out.

It shocks everyone who thought that Toto had his eyes on Alonso or young Kimi Antonelli from Formula Two—even Ocon had shown up on the betting pool.

The ceremony happens in Abu Dhabi due to the last race of the year being near mid-December. Y/n arrives solo in a custom-made midnight blue Dior gown, glimmering in Cartier diamonds and blood-red lips, she was the focus of every flash on the red carpet with a thousand questions thrown her way, she smiles and waves and dodges questions like a pro.

She ends the night with three prizes, 3rd place in the World Championship, Rookie of the Year and Action of the Year—for that phenomenal overtake on Leclerc in Imola.

“How did you managed? It was a Williams against a Ferrari!” The presenter asked her impressed once the driver joins the stage.

“Big balls.” She jokes, sending the room in an uproar. “On a serious note, Leclerc is an amazing driver, it was tough, he hunted me down all the way to the finish line, winning when going against your idols, the people that inspire you, that you look up to, it is an amazing feeling, especially when their cars were much superior to your own.”

Y/n/n cracks another joke on stage after receiving the crystal trophy as she was seated beside Lando during the ceremony—and the internet can’t get enough of the screenshots from the broadcast of the two drivers talking and giggling, with Verstappen looking sternly at them for their shenanigans before smiling.

A/n: share your thoughts!

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