#ALSO THE VOICE SOUNDS??? KINDA LIKE OSCARS????

[decodedparagram]

So I got dragged into the blindfaith trenches against my will

Anyways WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT!

A SONG ABOUT A MAN WRITING A LETTER FOR SOMEONE AND HE DOESN'T REALLY KNOW WHAT TO SAY BUT HE MAKES IT CLEAR THAT NO MATTER IF THEY JUST MET HE LOVES HIM!

WHAT COULD WE EVER DO WITH THAT?

[inchidentally]

am I insane or between British boarding school and Lando, has Oscar's polite outraged voice become exceptionally pommy

Wouldn’t it be incredible if Lewis Hamilton won this year [at Mercedes]?

No, what are you talking about? (…) I think Oscar Piastri winning first world championship is a much better story

self-love icon

[hamable]

Oh my god oh my god I’m going to fly out to LA myself and strangle whoever they put in charge of the audio engineering for the Oscars.

[jamminvroomvroom]

as sick as it sounds, i loved you first. 1

LN x fem!leclerc reader

part 1 of 2 -> find part two linked HERE!

in which you just can’t help yourself and neither can lando…

I’M BACK BITCHES!!!! hi sorry it’s been a while but we are back with what i hope is a bang lol. i’ve missed writing so much and as stressful as this was, i’m so so glad to be uploading something! i worked hard on this one and, of course, now i hate it whoops, but my girlie @lavenderlando made this possible and worth it. that’s my hype woman fr fr. N E WAY enjoy! lemme know what you think, and use some imagination for the timeline…

songs to set the vibe: i love you, i’m sorry by gracie abrams, 2hands by tate mcrae, love in the dark by adele, illicit affairs by taylor swift, think twice by suki waterhouse

warnings: 18+!! minors GO AWAY! smut, angst, fluff, kinda enemies to lovers? kinda? r is charles sister oop, miscommunication, both of them are down bad for eachother but they are also extremely dumb! breeding kink, size kink, pain kink (if u squint), unprotected p in v (don’t be silly!),

part 1: 10.3k words

1. oncoming traffic 

“hey, osc, who’s that girl hanging around leclerc? thought he was still with alex.” lando tries his best to sound nonchalant, but oscar can see through him like a freshly buffed window, the way lando clears his throat and nervously ruffles his unruly hair. 

“mate, i know you’re not the sharpest but i didn’t think you were that slow.” oscar laughs, side-eyeing the brit. he was baffled that lando was even asking. lando just shoots him a glare. “wait, you really don’t know?” lando’s glare hardens further, his eyes demanding an answer and oscar just laughs. “that’s his sister, you idiot. how have you never seen her?” 

lando didn’t know how he’d never seen her. this year had been nonstop, what with the pseudo-championship battle and the never ending media shitstorm that rained on him whenever he reared his head. he’d also learned in his years of racing never to look too closely at the women in another drivers entourage. that’s how you ended up in the wall during a race. but charles’ sister? how had he never noticed? 

“maybe i should go and introduce myself.” lando trailed off thoughtfully, his voice remaining playful. oscar snorted beside him, adjusting his racesuit. 

“ooh, yeah, send twitter into a frenzy. it’s been boring lately.” the aussie driver drawls sarcastically, successfully dodging lando’s rapidly approaching elbow to his ribs. 

“glad to know that you take pleasure in my never ending public humiliation!” lando grins maniacally, sauntering out of the garage, no longer any intention of seeking out the pretty girl in the short, black skirt. it was for the best. 

he’s passing through the pit box, immersed in a groupchat thread with max and p about a trip to portugal that he didn’t really want to go on, and bam! like the idiot oscar had just accused him of being, he slams blindly into oncoming traffic. 

oncoming traffic: the pretty girl in the short, black skirt.

“are you incapable of looking where you’re going?” your accent comes out thick, low with rage. it tickles his brain, like he’s heard it before. lando opens his mouth, like a fish out of water, closes it again pathetically. “seriously, for a pilot you have abysmal spacial awareness!” 

“sorry… what the fuck.” lando mutters. why is this woman shouting at him like she knows him? like he regularly barrels into her? 

“lando, yes?” you’ve calmed down a bit now, but you still speak through gritted teeth. 

“…yes?” he replies like he’s not so sure. 

“learn to look where you’re going.” you wrinkle your nose, composing yourself before stepping around him and strutting down the pitlane as if nothing had happened. 

lando stands there, fixed in place, watching her walk away in utter confusion. 

“smooth!” oscar calls from inside the garage, flanked by several laughing mechanics. 

“go fuck yourself!” lando’s flushed red, now, and beeline’s for the pit wall. 

he’s out of earshot when oscar says it. 

“think he just met his wife, boys.” 

-

lando is staring at the data on the screen when it hits him, will’s voice somewhere far away all of the sudden. 

the mysterious leclerc had every right to reprimand him, because she was right. he did need to learn how to look where he’s going. 

she’d told him that already, during their actual first meeting. 

-

2. the first collision 

the music was too loud, suffocating him along with the overbearing smell of cheap perfume, but the alcohol in his system and the outpouring of validation kept lando going. 

three time race winner, lando norris. 

five years of clawing back points and grabbing at podiums with two impatient hands had built up to this, to the incomparable glory of gracing that prestigious top step, and lando wasn’t about to let go of this moment just because of a pressing headache. max and pietra were waiting for him in a booth, surrounded by the rest of lando’s touring entourage. he was wracking up quite the tab, but it was all worth it. every slap on the back, seductive grin sent his way, made it worth it. 

he’s stumbling over his feet, wasted, or close to it, grinning lazily, peering through hooded eyes. the vodka cranberry in his hand is sloshing dangerously around in the glass, his careless movements propelling him towards disaster. 

lando hears the splatter of liquid, first, the scoff of disgust immediately after. long hair whips against his face as she turns, eyes wide with fury, set into a face that was never meant to look angry. he can smell vanilla, flowers. she’s an angel, turned devilish under the strobe lights, her delicate face morphing when he takes in the sight of him. 

“are you fucking serious? mon dieu!” her accent twists his tummy, as does the increasingly see-through material of her tight white dress, layers of chiffon turning transparent with the stark red liquid. it’s all over her back, running slowly down the length of her exposed thighs, sticky. lando stands there, utterly transfixed and useless. she looks like she might slap him; he kind of wants her to. “of course, just stand there. fucking pilots.” 

she mutters the last part and lando gulps. what does she know about other drivers? the implication makes his skin crawl for no reason, the idea of this nameless, mystery woman being familiar with his co-workers. he’s flushed with embarrassment for a multitude of reasons, opening his mouth just to close it again. 

“‘m sorry!” he finally calls out to her, over the music. can the dj turn that shit down? “can i buy you a drink?” she just glares at him, gesturing at her ruined dress. “or… a new dress?” lando tries again, flashing what he hopes are puppy dog eyes. 

he wants to take her back to his hotel room, lick the sweet liquid off of her frame, lap at her til she’s clean and crying. he wants to peel the stained white material off, tear it a little - it’s already ruined anyway! he can’t, though, because she’s wrinkling her nose at him, eyebrow raised, judging, and he’s awash with embarrassment all over again. the club spins and he feels nauseous. he finds max’s eyes on him, his friend stifling laughter at the tragic scene. 

she’s gone when he looks back, seems to have disappeared into a cloud of distinctly expensive perfume, and her friends are curling their lips up at him, dismissive. they don’t care who he is. he wonders if they’re redbull fans, ferrari fans, perhaps. 

he’s met with hoots of laughter as he slumps into the booth. he grabs a shot without a thought, doesn’t even register what liquor it is as it slides down his thick throat. 

“can’t believe you just did that. only you would spill a drink all over leclerc’s sister.” max teases, elbowing him playfully. 

“wha- he has a sister?” lando slurs, spluttering. 

he doesn’t remember much after that. 

youruser just posted on instagram:

tagged: francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc

liked by francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc and others.

youruser: shoutout to the guy that spilled his drink all over me!

francisca.cgomes: so beautiful so slay i miss u already

alexandrasaintmleux: love you!!!

charles_leclerc: delete this 🤦‍♂️

and other comments.

-

3. the watchful eyes of the big, black horse 

your arm is linked with kika’s, giggling with her as you walk through the paddock. 

“what about him?” kika whispers, pointing her chin towards one of the passing alpine mechanics. he’s blonde, pale, eyes dark.  “pierre said he heard that he’s good with the ladies.” she wiggles her eyebrows and your cheeks heat up, swatting her playfully. 

“i am not about to get a reputation for sleeping my way through the paddock.” you scoff. “plus, he’s not my type.” you shrug. 

“you need to start putting yourself out there more, you keep saying you want someone.” the portuguese girl reasons. you nod sheepishly. 

“i don’t wanna look for something, i want it to find me. is that pathetic? i just see how you are with pierre, how alex is with charles, and that’s what i want. something… real.” you sigh. kika sees the way your eyes gloss over with sadness. 

“it’s never as easy and as perfect as it looks, babe, trust me. and anyway, maybe just focus on… the thing you were telling me about.” kika lowers her voice, giving you the look.

“shut up!” you squeal. “god, i am not discussing that here!” 

“discussing what?” you hear pierre before you see him, hot with embarrassment. you’ve know him since before you could even walk, which is why you have no problem voicing your deepest, darkest shame. 

“how i’m not getting laid, apparently!” you drawl sarcastically, slapping your hand over your forehead. 

a poorly concealed laugh that you don’t recognise has you whipping around, eyes wide with bewilderment. it’s hearty, smooth, surprisingly warming. you practically growl when your eyes land on the source of the noise, standing next to pierre who looks embarrassed for you, his lips pressed thinly together to prevent himself from cackling. 

“why is he here?” you grit your teeth, squeezing your eyes so tightly shut that you feel a pang in your temples. 

“as polite as ever.” lando smirks. you open

your eyes just in time to catch him eyeing up the skin of your thighs that your skirt doesn’t quite cover. is he checking you out? 

“says the drink spiller.” you bite back, rolling your eyes. 

“hey, i tried to pay for the damage.” lando looks utterly amused, pink lips still twisted into a punch-worthy smirk. 

“so, you’ve met lando, then.” pierre grins, staring between you both. you don’t register the way he’s trading looks with kika, watching whatever this scene is unfold. 

“unfortunately!” you smile tightly at the racing drivers. 

“pretty sure you walked into me that second time. distracting me in the workplace, or something.” lando chimes in, enjoying this all a bit too much. 

“if you did a better job at looking where you’re going-“ 

“okay, so this has been delightful!” pierre buts in, knowing that you have the shortest temper of all the leclerc offspring. “you,” he points at you. “get laid. you,” he points at lando. “don’t piss her off, you won’t like the result.”

kika can only send you a sympathetic smile, and remind you of the coffee date you have scheduled for tomorrow morning, as she’s dragged away from your place of social suicide. pierre winks, tilts his head far too pointedly for your liking towards lando. you fantasise, in that moment, of clawing his eyes out. 

“i am sorry, for the record.” lando smiles at you, genuine and gleaming. something inside of you twists. 

“for which time?” you’re just teasing now, but he doesn’t need to know that. 

“you have quite the attitude on you. that why you’re not getting any?”

you’re about to rip his head off and give max an even easier ride towards the championship, but lando steps forward. you can smell old spice, tangy and alluring and masculine. 

“how fucking dare you-“ 

“because most men don’t know what to do with a woman like you. don’t know how to treat them right.” he’s so confident when he says it, leaning towards you in a way you can only describe as enticingly. 

“oh, and you do?” you scoff, arms crossed. you must remain combative, or else you’ll give in. is this rock bottom?

“i’m free tonight if you wanna find out.” 

“i’ll be far too busy doing literally anything else.” you can only pray he hasn’t caught the tremble in your voice, the ever so slight quiver of you bottom lip. you chew it into your mouth to stop yourself. 

“but not anyone else.” lando doesn’t pose it as a question. it seems that he’s got you all figured out. 

“whatever helps you and your hand sleep well tonight.” you spit. there’s heat between you, sparking into a flame that could burn down your whole life. you feel eyes burning into the back of your head - green ones that match yours. you falter. “i’m done here, lando. have a fantastic evening.” 

he takes another liberty, leaning in even closer. spearmint and the idea of a million bad choices flood your every pore. you can feel the big, black horse watching over you, now, set into bright yellow, adorned with ferrari red. looming, warning, turning you in. 

“you know, something tells me i will.” 

lando disappears first, not even giving you a chance you spin on your heel and storm off. you want to kill him, hurt him, sink your teeth into that bronzed, thick throat, claw into his back, down, down, down… until you’re on your knees and- 

“why were you talking to lando?” charles’ voice cuts through your filthy thoughts and you sign yourself over to god immediately, purifying yourself as you banish the visions of delicious sin. after all, you’re standing in the presence of il predestinato, the prince of monaco, a saint to many. but to you, he’s just your brother. your big brother, always in the way, always meddling, always, always watching. you sigh. 

“friendly conversation.” you quip, short. you love him dearly, would take bullets for him, but, god, he keeps you on a leash. leo’s has more give than the conceptual tether charles has to you, keeping you close, boyfriendless, out of “trouble”. you know why, and deep down, you’re beyond grateful, all things considered. you can’t admit that, though. 

“that’s not how pierre described it to me.” charles raises an eyebrow, voice bitter despite the clear attempt he’s made to try and hide it. 

“fucking pierre.” you grunt. “it’s nothing, he came over with pierre. i was with kika. first time i’ve ever even had a conversation with lando.” that didn’t result from a drink being spilt over you to the point of transparency. you leave that bit out - charles really doesn’t need to know that. 

charles mulls over your words, eyeing you suspiciously. you want to stomp your heeled foot like a child, a brat, scream and shout and kick and wail that he has to back the fuck off eventually, but you just smile innocently and pray he believes you. 

“okay,” he mutters, making his peace. “i don’t want you getting too… familiar with him. bad reputation. he used to be quite sweet until his last breakup and now he will fuck anything with a pulse.” you wrinkle your nose at your brothers crude words, feeling the need to jump in and object. but why? you don’t know lando, you don’t care about lando. you press your lips into a thin, painful line. “you should go back to the hotel with alex. looks like i’ll be here late.” he rolls his eyes, you know how it is. 

“sure, good luck.” you offer, smothering the rage that pools in your belly. let me fucking live, you think. just because he’d had to swoop in and save you from yourself once before, didn’t mean that you could live like this forever. 

he has lit a spark under you, one that spreads like a wildfire towards the flame that lando ignited minutes before. if only your brother knew how to keep his big mouth shut, you wouldn’t be spurred on to bad behaviour. 

if only lando hadn’t spilled that drink over you, maybe you wouldn’t be opening his instagram profile and sending a message request. 

a place. your room number. a time. 

you only wish you’d gotten to see the devilish grin on his face when he received it. 

lando can’t want you for the reasons that other guys do. your status as charles leclerc’s little sister, and the gateway to your brother that you provided, meant nothing to the brit. that’s why you’d let him have you; he wouldn’t try to take more than you wanted to give. 

-

4. generous 

the knocks are soft against the door, yet they manage to have every hair on your body standing to attention. you’re quick to let him in, itching to get him inside and away from prying eyes. this is clandestine, secret, could even feel somewhat sacred once it’s over, and the last possible thing you could ever need is for another soul to know what you intend to do with lando, what you intend to let him do to you. 

“hey.” 

“hi.” 

you stare at each other. 

he steps forward. you don’t move away. he takes it as an invitation to close the space entirely, so close that, there it is again: oldspice, except this time it’s mixed with something fresh, shower gel you guess, sea salt. his curls are crisper than they were a few hours ago, still damp from the shower he must have just taken. 

“what changed your mind?” he asks. 

“i was feeling generous.” you deadpan. he bites back a laugh. 

“generous, huh?”

“very.” 

“considering your alleged dry spell, i’d say i’m the generous one, no?” his voiced is edged with something dark, dropped a few octaves. you could absolutely squirm under his gaze, but you hold strong. 

“you know where the door is if that’s how you’re gonna be.” you coo, mocking his seductive undercurrent. all he does is flash his teeth, grinning cheekily, his way of accepting your challenge, your attitude. 

“i think you want me to stay, honey.” 

honey. you fear it works on you. the gap closes even further, you fear it’s your doing. 

“you’re only getting this opportunity because i invited you here.” your resolve is slipping. you’ve admitted that you want him in your pathetic bid to hold the power, when the truth is, you want him to pounce on you, strip away every layer and barrier and make you see stars, feel euphoric. 

“okay, honey, whatever you say.” he chuckles, cruel and taunting. “so, how dry of a spell has it been? wanna know what i’m working with.” 

lando touches you then, lightning shooting down your arm as he traces from your elbow down to your fingers, featherlight, barely there, a ghost of a touch that haunts you so deliciously. your fingers intertwine. you initiate it, but really, it’s his fault. this is all his fault.

you try and laugh, but it sounds broken, quivering it’s way out from your dry throat. 

“dry.”

he just stares at you, expectant. he needs to hear more, needs to know. he craves details about you, has ever since you body slammed him outside his garage - leading to some very covert instagram stalking on his behalf and his oh so convenient way of worming his way into a conversation with pierre when lando could see that the other driver was on his way over towards you. it’s pathetic, maybe, but he craves you the way one craves nicotine forever after just one puff of a cigarette. he has you, just for tonight, maybe longer if he gets this right, so he will know everything he needs to know so that he can touch you just how you need. 

“i’ve only… it’s been a while.” 

he sees right through you. 

“you’ve only what?” he presses. he needs to know.

“i’ve only done this once.” you whisper. it’s the meekest he’s seen you. he loathes it. 

“and was it good?” lando murmurs so attentively that you want to cry. 

your fourth interaction with this man, and he has you melting. 

“not really.” 

“do you trust me?” his nose is bumping yours. you’re locked in, twitching. he has both hands on you, now, one still laced with yours, the other trailing up your arm, tempted to brush his fingertips against the taut skin of your neck. 

how the fuck can i trust you? i don’t know you! what the fuck are we doing? what the fuck am i doing?

that’s not what you say, though, because for some reason, you are so sickeningly comfortable and okay that you worry that something is wrong with you. 

“yes.”

“then this time will be so, so much better. i’ll make it all better.” 

when his lips meet yours, you’re surprised at how good it immediately feels. you don’t know what you were expecting, but his lips are plush, enveloping yours softly, but firm enough that you sink into him, allowing him to cement that grip on the side of your neck that he’d been taunting you with. 

he kisses you like he’s sure of everything, like this is second nature and you’ve done it a thousand times. you want to kiss him a thousand times. why it’s so good, you’re not sure, but it gives you the confidence to lean into him, grab the bottom of his hoodie in your hands and tug. 

“be patient, ‘n i’ll make you feel so good, honey, i promise.” he mouths down your cheek, nipping at your jaw, down your neck until he finds that special spot below your ear. he nibbles there, lapping his tongue over your sensitive skin like he already knows your body. you want to see just how familiar with you he can get. “but,” he punctuates the word with a sharp bite. you both dread and revel in the mark it will leave. “you have to behave for me, okay?” 

his words are whispered against the shell of your ear and you shiver, eyes rolled back already. you wonder if he’ll get them to do a full three-sixty rotation in your skull. 

“‘kay.” you breathe, mindless, floating away. it’s already better than last time.

“‘kay’?” he mocks. “no, honey, you gotta promise me. can you promise me?” 

“promise.” you lock eyes, conveying your obedience. his eyes blow wide, pupils dilating to shove away the mysterious bluey green. his teeth grit. he knows he’s hit the jackpot. 

“good girl.” 

you’re stripped naked, mustering all of your energy to shove his clothes off, his hoodie flying away, his sweats kicked into a faraway dark corner. you’re left naked, him in some increasingly tight boxers, and you tumble into the freshly made bed. he slinks over you, crawling on his hands and knees, predator stalking prey. 

he stains your inner thighs purple, tugging your legs over his shoulder, huge hands warm and rough as they manoeuvre your malleable body to his liking. lando presses kisses to every inch of skin, dragging his tongue over your bare flesh before he spreads you open, sucking and tasting and savouring. he moans into you, open and wet, and it ricochets off of every nerve ending, sending your body taut and arched, catlike. you’re trying to get away, whilst simultaneously grinding yourself closed to him, feeling that broad, sharp nose of his bump messily and firmly against your clit, an ache spreading through your pelvis that makes you shake and shake and whine his name out to the gods. 

“taste like heaven.” lando’s words are simple, straightforward, make you bite your lip so hard you taste something metallic seeping over your tongue. “so tight, even around my tongue,” he slurs, drunk, lost. “gotta stretch you out for me. that okay, honey?” you can just about make it all out, and you nod furiously, pleading. 

his teeth graze your clit. 

“say please.” 

“putain! please!” you kick your feet out when all he does is laugh into your wet flesh. 

one finger grazes through your folds, parting them and collecting a mess of your slick. he looks transfixed as it drips down his finger. 

honey.

you watch him watch how he opens you up, revelling in the utter fascination painting his features, pussy drunk and curious, transfixed. 

“can’t believe you’ve never been fucked right.” he coos, breathless, genuinely shocked. you quake under his skilful hands and his awful, sinful, dirty mouth. 

“more.” you plead, not ashamed by your crude begging. you’re a mess for him already, might as well get the full experience. 

“think you can take another?” 

a second finger slides in, rocking against your walls, testing the waters. you writhe, meeting his movements with shallow thrusts of your hips. 

“faster, i need- mon dieu! anything, lando, please just-“ he really goes to town then, scissoring your dripping cunt open, curling and twisting and grinding the two digits so deep that you see white, hazy chocolate coloured curls and deep, glazed over eyes. 

“that’s it, honey, there you go. so fucking pretty for me.” lando whispers the last bit, awestruck, and you’d take the time to wonder why if you weren’t on the verge of tears, overstimulated, ears ringing. your orgasm crashes over you like a surge of electricity, tearing through your body like it’s trying to escape and take cover. it’s so strong that you’re damp everywhere, sweating and crying and so fucking shocked that it can feel like this. 

“lando.” you pant, mouth dry, voice hoarse.  

“you did so good. was it okay?” he rubs small circles into your hips, eyes flitting between your own and where you’re still leaking for him. he manages to tear his eyes away, like a trance has broken, snaking up your body until he’s laying next to you, propped up on his elbow. he hovers over you, raking his eyes over the rising and falling lines of your body. 

“pretty good, i guess. didn’t know you had it in you.” you tease, smirking lazily up at him. 

you want to keep staring at him but your vision is blurring as your eyes begin to droop. what a long day it’s been. 

“high praise coming from you.” lando reasons, laughing lightly. he strokes over your hipbone and you jolt, curling around onto your side. his skin is warm against yours, soft and smooth, and you dare you press your even closer, shy, as if he wasn’t just buried mercilessly between your legs. you hum in response, spent and languid. “you wanna get some sleep?” he asks. 

“we didn’t… i mean, you didn’t…” you trail off, awkward, gesturing towards his middle. 

lando just smiles. 

“guess i’ll just have to come find you in monaco.” 

you flush, cheeks burning as you consider the fact that you’re gonna be in the same country, a very small, very private city. who knows what could happen? 

you fall asleep quickly, easily, far too comfortable next to the british driver. if you were to ask, he’d say he left immediately. he watches the way you breathe far too intently, ever so slowly pulling his clothes back on. he doesn’t know how long passes, but what he does know is that he can’t wait to have you like this again. 

-

5.  some guy 

you sink into the oversized armchair, sitting back and letting kika and alex talk, nattering backwards and forwards about nothing in particular. or, maybe you’re just zoned the fuck out. 

you can’t stop thinking about the way he touched you, your body littered with evidence, dark purple bruises turning a stale green between you thighs. when you woke up, you initially wondered if it was all a dream, but the dull, sweet ache thrumming through your bones told you just how real it really was. you went through the motions, embarrassed momentarily before deciding to just embrace it, try to bask in the way he’d made you feel: sexy and desirable and electric. 

it was just a shame that it had to be him. that’s what you kept telling yourself, at least. 

kika’s nodding along to a story alex is telling about leo, about to respond with a similar anecdote about simba but she gasps instead, almost spilling her americano all over herself. this gets your attention and you open your mouth to ask her is she’s okay, but she beats you to it. 

“my god, what is that?” she chokes, staring at you. or, well, your neck. 

you flush, heated, blood pooling in your cheeks. 

you’d tried to cover it up, seriously, applying layer after layer of concealer and strategically placing your hair in such a way that you prayed it wouldn’t be noticeable, but nonetheless, there it is, clear as day. red raw skin tinged purple around the seams, branded into your neck like some kind of public humiliation ritual. 

fuck you, lando fucking norris!

you avert eye contact, leaning away from alex who is now making a point of leaning in, going as far as to push your hair back so she can get a closer look. 

“oh my gosh!” she squeals, giggling with kika. 

you take a long, slow gulp of coffee, not caring that it burns your tongue. 

“who was it? holy shit, was it lando?” kika whisper shouts and you officially drop dead on the spot, watching her connect the dots so easily. 

“oh jesus, no! no!” you lie, feigning offence, your leg bouncing shamefully under the table. the two girls eye you suspiciously, but you assume you’ve played it off well. 

“who, then?” alex asks. you wonder if kika has told her about yesterdays interaction. 

“just- i don’t even know, some guy.” you huff, playing with a loose thread hanging from your jumper. 

“some guy? after what you were saying yesterday? okay, babe.” kika teases sarcastically. “no, cmon, who?” she pouts, leaning in as well. 

“just… someone.” you squeak, unable to look up at them. 

“okay, well, we will find out eventually.” alex wiggles her eyebrows and you stick your tongue out, mock-glaring at your sister in law. 

“no, the fuck you won’t.” you try and fake some confidence, scrapping for a mere shred of control. 

yes, the fuck they will, because when you leave for the bathroom, you leave your phone unlocked like the utter fool you are. god has it out for you, you figure, because that’s when he chooses to strike. 

the message lando sends you is short and sweet, and alex chokes on a piece of cake when kika starts gesturing wildly at the notification that pops up on your screen. 

for when you’re lonely at home and can’t find anyone to fuck you right.

attached is his address. 

they don’t breathe a word when you come back, but they share a knowing smirk when they catch you smiling at your phone, and again when you ask if either of them have anything with a higher neckline that you can wear for the race. 

youruser has just posted on instagram:

tagged: francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux

liked by: francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris and others

youruser: race day, big slay

user1: LEO!!!

alexandrasaintmleux: prettiest girl in the world

user45: lando what are you doing here 🤔

6.    manners

“are you even listening to me right now?” charles scoffs, finishing off his drink out of annoyance. your eyes snap back to him, the thumping music vibrating through your body. 

“sorry, just tipsy.” you purse your lips, attempting to lock back in on whatever he’s saying, but it’s hard. it’s hard, because sprawled out in a booth across from where you stand at the bar, lando is watching your every move. 

you’ve managed to avoid him thus far, no contact since you’d liked the DM he’d sent you a few weeks back. you’d be lying through your teeth if you said you didn’t think of him and what you’d done at literally every waking moment, so the way he’s watching you, hooded eyes sparkling under the strobe lights, has you squirming. it was easier to tell yourself that, surely, it wasn’t that good when he wasn’t right in front of you in a half unbuttoned shirt. the navy blue fabric is wrapped around his body deliciously, taut where his muscles are, the colour popping against his tanned skin - which you can practically feel writhing against yours. 

you wish charles would go away so you could crawl into that booth and commit public indecency. 

speak of the devil, your brother seems to have clocked that you have zero interest in what he has to say so he huffs, ordering another round for the table and telling you he’s going to find alex. he shuffles away and you subtly search for the british drivers mindful eyes, but he’s disappeared, left his entourage in the booth. you swallow disappointment that makes you feel pathetic, head in your hands against the bar top, but the lightest brush of fingers against your waist drags you out of your spiral. you know immediately. 

“did you dress like that for me, or are you just a slut?” he’s grinning, light and teasing, surprisingly sober, tipsy at most, just like you. 

“i could ask you the same.” you smirk, blatantly eyeing his exposed chest. he shrugs, leaning in. 

”might have left an extra button undone just for you.” lando winks and you hope the lights hide the way you flush. 

“sure you did, just for me and every other girl in here.” you challenge. his eyebrows furrow. 

“nope. just for you.” his eyes darken, just a tad but enough that you notice. your mouth runs dry. “you never replied to me.” 

“not true, i liked the message.” you smile coyly, sipping your drink. your lipstick smears against the rim of the glass and you watch him stare at the print, tongue wetting his lips. 

“you are something else.” he shakes his head, pushing his curls back. it could be frustration, but he still seems at ease, like he’s enjoying your combative nature. you smile into the glass, hoping he doesn’t notice. he does. “how much have you had to drink?” 

“this is my second.” 

“you sober enough for me to take you home?” lando’s face is mere inches away from yours now, and you can feel the pull, desperate to crawl into the space that still remains and lose yourself there. 

“depends.” 

“on?” you truly exasperate him, but he thinks he loves it. 

“if you’re actually gonna fuck me this time.” you casually take another sip, playing it off as if your crude words had no impact on you. 

lando’s eyes widen at your bluntness, and so does his grin. 

“meet me by the valet.” 

lando leaves, and you quickly follow, downing the remnants of your glass and touching up your lipgloss. 

-

alex watches from her booth, and pulls out her phone. 

to: kika gomes 

oh, she’s deeeeefinitely sleeping with lando!!!  

-

pietra leans towards her boyfriend, close enough that he can hear her over the noise. 

“isn’t that charles’ sister?” she shouts, pointing to the bar, where lando is stood. 

max analyses the way he’s stood, leant  against the bar, nice and close to the ferrari drivers little sister. he knows that look on lando’s face, and he knows it far too well. max pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“oh for fuck sake.” 

-

it’s weird, sitting with him in silence. he’s only had half a drink, able to drive back through the winding hills to his apartment. you stare out the window, mostly, when you aren’t staring blatantly and curiously at lando. you can see the sea, glistening under the moonlight and you wish you could focus on that instead, but he’s there, and you have to admit - begrudgingly, albeit - that he’s stunning. his hands wrap around the wheel tauntingly, as if he’s trying to convey how he’ll touch you, all consumingly. your thighs press together, your fingers clasping together as if you’re subconsciously stopping yourself from reaching out for him prematurely. 

as if he can hear your thoughts, his palm smoothes over the skin of your bare thigh, right where your dress has ridden up, without a second thought, nothing tentative about the way his digits curve around your skin. 

“so, you’ve been thinking about that night, then?” he breaks the silence, glancing over at you. 

“what makes you say that?” you whisper, not even meaning to but the silence had been so heavy. 

“well, you only left with me on the condition i’d bend you over.” he laughs loud, whole and warm. you fight it, just for a second, but then you join in, giving in to him. you can’t help it, he makes it easy. 

“you got me.” you concede, rolling your eyes. without realising it, you’ve relaxed completely into his touch. 

he pulls off of the road and into a private garage. you breath hitches.

-

“do you want a drink or…?” lando gestures blindly towards his kitchen, walking further into the apartment. 

he’d spent the elevator ride up to his place leant against the opposite wall, taunting, making you wait. he’d let himself look at you, totally unabashedly, raking his eyes over your frame, meekly tucked into the corner, shy under his intense gaze but frustrated by his lack of urgency. 

“i’m good. didn’t come here for a tea party.” you hope your words push his buttons. they must, because he turns on his heel, facing you again, suddenly towering over you. 

his eyes are steel, face serious, and you don’t know what to do. you’ve never seen him look at you like this. 

“i think we need to work on your manners.” he speaks condescendingly, down at you, and if you weren’t so needy, hadn’t been waiting weeks, you’d turn around and leave just to really prove his point. but you stay planted, looking up at him through mascara coated lashes, softening you gaze until you’re sure you’re conveying faux innocence. 

“maybe we can work on them in your bedroom.” you truly don’t know where you get this confidence from, he’s the second man to have ever touched you so intimately, but he’s magnetic, drawing you out of your own head and straight towards him. 

he tugs you towards him, kissing you messily, right there in the dim light of his kitchen, pawing at your waist hungrily. his tongue brushes your and you moan, humming into his mouth at the faint taste of mint and vodka, long gone but you can taste everything. his thick fingers find your ass, hoisting you up until you have no option but to wrap your legs around him, your dress scratching at your thighs the higher it rides up, but all it does it turn you on more, rough sensations on sensitive skin. 

lando walks you blindly to his bedroom, never breaking the kiss, and you wonder how many times he’s done this to get it down to muscle memory. the thought makes you nauseous, drags you mercilessly right back into your head, and you pull away, your lips barely brushing his. 

“why me?” you breathe, panting into the shallow space where your mouths have parted.

“what?” he whispers, confused. 

“why do you want to do this with me?” you have to check, past insecurities rising to the surface like bile in the back of your throat. he looks genuinely baffled and you feel foolish for ruining the moment. 

“why wouldn’t i? you’re gorgeous and-“ he cuts himself off, his eyes glazing over. the demeanour slips and you’re stuck, his arms still tight around you, holding you close in the empty space at the foot of his bed. 

“what?” you whisper. 

“you’re part of the same life.” the way he looks at you says words that he can’t. 

words that will sound too shallow and too selfish and too meaningless, even though you will understand them because you’re here for similar reasons, and therefore, they will mean too much. 

you can’t take things from him. you can’t fake it. you can’t break him into a million pieces when he finally discovers that you want him because of what he can give you.

you nod once, firm.  

“i get it.” you smile sadly. lando wants to know more. he can find out some other time. a moment of clarity passes between you. “kiss me, again?” you ask. he delivers immediately. 

kisses you all the way onto the bed. kisses you while he helps you take off your heels, while he drags the zipper of your dress down. you both feel safe now, understood, and that really moves things along. 

“so pretty.” he mutters into your skin, shedding you of your tight dress. 

your shaky fingers work over the buttons of his shirt, peeling it off of his broad shoulders, taking in the sight of him all over again. you’re left in your panties, braless already, and he gawks down at you, like he’s seeing everything for the first time. it makes you feel powerful. 

“can you hurry up?” you writhe, arching into his touch. he smiles, covering his body with yours and pressing a kiss to your lips. his fingers slide over the curves of your body, finding the band of your underwear and toying with it. 

“want me to take them off?” he purrs, trailing his lips down your jaw to just below your ear. 

“now.” you beg, eyes fluttering closed as his warm breath pricks at your skin, teeth nibbling. “no marks.” you whine, flashing back to the weeks over knowing looks and attempts at covering the last one up. 

“what were we saying about manners, hm? gonna need to start hearing some ‘pleases’ and ‘thank yous’, okay, honey?” he bites down again, harder this time, and you squirm underneath him, your soft belly moulding to each dip of his abs.

his fingers dip into your panties, finding your clit amongst your wetness. you just about bite back a moan, but you can’t help but roll your hips into his hand, his fingertips gliding easily through your folds. 

“va te faire foutre.” you mutter, teeth gritting at the pleasure and his words. go fuck yourself.

“i’ve lived in monaco long enough to know what that means.” lando whispers, pinching your clit once before plunging a finger inside of you. 

you hiss, head thrown back, the feeling of him smiling against the hickey bittersweet. and to think, it was almost healed. you can’t help but keen into his touch. 

“more,” you pant. “please.”

“you learn fast.” lando approves, and quickly fulfils your request, adding another finger. 

they flex inside of you, grinding deeper and deeper until you’re whimpering his name and leaking down his wrist. your arms wrap around him, nails digging in to his smooth back, his ropey muscles tensing under your firm touch. his thumb bumps your clit, over and over, pushing you to the precipice, so close you can taste the impending orgasm on your tongue. 

“it’s so good, merci, god.” you sound wrecked already, and lando can’t wait to see how far he can push, how far apart he can take you.  

“that other fucking loser didn’t know what he had, jesus, you’re so fucking hot.” he rasps, admiring the rise and fall of your chest, how your breasts bounce with every thrust of his fingers, the way his hand is glistening in the low light of his bedroom. his words are your undoing, the awe in his voice sending sparks shooting through every nerve ending. 

“lando, ‘m gonna… putain!” the way you switch languages is sexy to him, tells him how scrambled your brain is, and he twitches in his boxers. when you cum, it’s as gorgeous and as enticing as the first time, and he jolts against your hip, desperate to get inside of you finally. 

“you’re so beautiful.” he groans, pulling his fingers from your entrance. he stares blindly at the mess you’ve made on them, salivating, remembering the way you taste. it’s a no brainer for him, and he licks both digits clean, giving you just a moment to recover. 

“i need you.” you whisper, your legs still spread, quivering slightly. 

you pull him in once more, his covered crotch grinding against your slick and you cry out, the friction sending you into overdrive. his teeth dig into your shoulder, the sensation entrapping him, leaving him weak, ready to give you whatever you ask. he pushes his underwear away, and your eyes go wide. 

“you can have me,” he grunts, running his hand over himself. “think you can take it?” he wets his lips and you think you could cum again at the sight of him. sweat slicked, tight curls falling over his eyes, lips licked pink and kiss swollen, hard and heavy in his own hand, body curved over yours possessively. you’re a simple woman, really. 

“i think i can try.” you want to sound confident, but it comes out as a squeak. 

he sits back on his knees and brings his free hand to cup your jaw. 

“i’ll go slow with you, honey, okay? you can tell me to stop.” lando promises. “you sure you want this?” 

you nod, pouting up at him. 

“i want you, i can take it.” you manage through a deep breath. 

the stretch is brutal, splitting you in half. all you can do is breathe, watching the way he watches you, and that’s what you hone in on, his pretty eyes watching where he’s filling you up. when he bottoms out, he stops for a second, scanning your face for discomfort. 

“are you okay?” 

“c’mere.” you coo, and he falls back over you, paws at your waist. “move, lando.” you plead. 

it’s slow, deep, makes your toes tingle. you can feel each and every drag of him against your walls and it makes you dizzy, a knot twisting and tickling in your belly. your fingers are twisted around him, around his biceps, crumbling a little bit every time he flexes in your grip. 

“oh, mon dieu.” you’re whimpering, legs wrapping around him like vines, tighter and tighter with every buck of his hips. 

“‘s it feel good, honey? yeah? you’re so fucking tight for me.” lando chokes, licking over the sweat on your collarbone. “‘m i making it feel good?” he sounds so cocky, sexy, but there’s a soft edge around his words. it matters to him, how he’s treating you, this, a certain delicateness hanging around your intertwined bodies like a cloud. 

“so good, lando, so fucking good.” the words scratch your throat raw, and your teeth sink into your bottom lip. 

“no, no, lemme hear you, pretty girl. can feel how close you are for me.” you can hear the edge to his voice, can tell the end is near for both of you, the way his words wobble despite his best attempts at hiding it. “need you to look at me, and i need to hear you.” 

you don’t even realise until then that your eyes are shut, screwed up tight as the pleasure rolls through your body, flooding each and every one of your senses. you free your lip, and everything pours out, whines, raw slurs of his name. 

“i’m so close.” he grunts, watching the way your face moves, hanging on to every micro expression, the way you battle to keep all of your attention on him. 

“fill me up.” you urge, squeezing his hips between your thighs. his eyes widen, the request slowly registering, and he blinks away the voice in his head telling him to do it. 

“you know i can’t.” he’s firm, sensible even if you aren’t. 

“want it so bad, lan, please, wanna feel it.” you reason, cupping his face and pushing his curls back. 

“not tonight.”

“yes, tonight. give it to me.”

“i said no, don’t be a fucking brat.” he hisses, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“know you want it.” you whisper, seductive and devious. you can see his resolve slipping, tightening around him. 

before you can say anything else, your hands are scooped up, pinned above your head. he’s right over you now, your hips perfectly aligned, and he’s driving so deep that you swear you can feel him in your tummy. his thrusts resort to a harsh grind, digging into each other with every snap of his pelvis. 

“you want it so bad? huh? fine.” he growls, forehead resting against yours. “want me to cum in you, fuck it all back in? yeah, honey? you gonna keep it all in for me?”

“whatever you want.” you promise, eyes rolling back in your head. “just- please, please do it.” you pant, mouth dry. 

“that’s it, pretty girl, take it all for me.” he buries his face in your neck, nipping at your collarbone. “doing so good.” the words fan against your throat, hushed, leaving you warm from the inside out, brainless. 

when you spill around him, it’s at the same time as he lets go, and he fucks you through your orgasms. you go limp beneath him, taking it, letting it all wash over you, letting him wash all over you. you feel like you can’t breathe, suffocating under the weight of him and the reality of what you’ve just done. again. for some reason, you don’t care, and decide that you’ll do this again and again, anytime he’ll have you. not that you’ll ever tell him that… 

“fuck.” he exhales, rolling off of you carefully, but the overstimulation - and then lack thereof - makes you wince, and he strokes your hip gently in apology. 

“that was better than i thought it would be.” you grin, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

“you know, these are starting to sound kinda backhanded.” he beams, laughing breathlessly, but just as he begins to relax into his bedspread, he remembers. “oh fuck, shit, we need a pharmacy!” lando bolts up so that he’s sitting, scanning the room blindly for his clothes. you giggle and he snaps his head towards you, panicked. 

“no, lando, we don’t.” 

“all of that ‘uh, fill me up, please lando you’re so sexy’ talk means that, yes we absolutely do! fuck, how much is plan b these days?” he’s spiralling now, tugging at his curls. 

“first of all, i’m on birth control. second of all, i don’t sound like that, and most importantly, i did not call you sexy.” you smirk, stretching out your tight muscles. 

“that’s the most important part? woman, you nearly killed me.” lando gasps, slumping back down into bed. 

“‘m sorry, couldn’t resist playing with you a little. good to know we share a kink, though.” your smirk turns into a coy smile, and you swing your shaky legs out of the bed, your feet sinking into the plush rug. 

“oh, yeah? what other kinks are you hiding from me?” lando sits back against the headboard, tucking his hands behind his bed. you have to look away, or else you’ll accidentally fall back into his bed. 

“guess you’ll have to wait and find out.” it makes him quirk an eyebrow, a look of understanding settling over his face. 

“so this is gonna be a regular thing, yeah?” 

you’re putting your underwear back on when he says it, searching for your dress, but his words make you freeze. he sounds hopeful, and it makes your chest pang… wait, is that your heart?

“i don’t… i mean, as you unfortunately know, i haven’t done this before. i don’t know how this works.” you say it so earnestly, so innocently, that his whole face softens, awestruck and boyish. 

“i want it to be a regular thing.” he says it gently, like he’s offering it to you, to the universe. 

“okay. me too.” you whisper back, shy under his gaze. 

“are you… like, do you think you’ll be sleeping with other people?” lando squeaks, doing a terrible job of playing it cool. 

“for so many reasons, no.” you grimace. “but if we’re doing this then i wouldn’t want to anyway.” you say softly. your dress is back on now, but he has you flustered, and you can’t quite get the zipper. 

“lemme help.” he offers, and he’s out of bed and before you in a matter of seconds. his calloused fingers graze your skin as he pulls the zipper together and up, adjusting your dress back into place. it feels so terrifyingly intimate, exciting, and you can’t bring yourself to move away. “i wouldn’t want to either.” he breathes the words quietly into the small space between you. 

“okay.” you don’t even try to hide the way you beam, staring up at him. 

“i’ll take you home, yeah?” 

“yeah.”

-

7.  worth it

and so, begins a clandestine affair, touches in the shadows, subtle glances, watchful eyes. 

one of you calls, the other comes, sneaking through doors that neither of you should enter, leaving bars a few minutes apart, making up excuses to get out of plans. 

there’s the time lando has you bent over the end of your bed, tears leaking into the mattress, slick everywhere. he’s so deep this way, hammering away at the special spot nestled within you that he’s become very familiar with. one of his hands is dragging your hips back to meet his thrusts, the other splayed out across your back, holding you down. 

your phone rings. it’s alex. you were supposed to be a brunch twenty minutes ago. you groan out, frustrated in every sense of the word. 

“answer it, honey.” lando grunts, pulling you towards him even harder. you whimper, shaking your head, words dying on your tongue. “go on, i know you can do it. wouldn’t want alex to worry, would you? let her know you’re okay.” he coos, condescending. 

he’s so arrogant, full of it, and you like the challenge. you can’t let him win, can’t let him revel in how fucked out he has you, so against your better judgement, you grab the phone, fingers shaking as you answer. 

“hi, love. i know, i’m late! ‘m sorry, i’ll be there soon!” you wince at the way your voice shakes. you hope she can’t hear the way you’re panting, or the sound of his hips hitting yours. 

lando slows his hips, hitting deep at such a torturously slow pace that feels a million times better than it already did. your free hand flies back, swatting at him. 

“where the hell are you? i was worried!” alex sounds relieved, but there’s something else in her tone that you can’t quite decipher. 

“i’m on my way, i promise! i was with arthur.” you lie, throwing your younger brother into the line of fire. you know, for credibility. alex is silent for a moment. 

“oh, okay. well, get here soon, please! love you!” and with that, she hangs up the phone. you release a breath you were holding, crying out when lando immediately speeds up again. 

“i hate you.” you choke, grinding your hips into him. lando just scoffs, sliding a hand under your belly, flush against the mattress. he finds your clit, playing with it, urging you quickly towards your release. 

“no, you don’t.” he laughs. “you better cum for me, pretty girl, i think you have somewhere to be.” 

-

“i’m on my way, i promise! i was with arthur.”

alex has to bite back a laugh. she stares across the table, where arthur is having an avid debate with charles and joris. arthur, who had been with her and charles for hours. 

“oh, okay. well, get here soon, please! love you!” alex hangs up the phone, giggling to herself. leo stirs in her lap. 

“what’s so funny?” charles asks her. she shakes her head. 

“oh, nothing, she just overslept.” 

-

there’s the time where he has you hiked up on your kitchen counter, messy curls tickling the insides of your thighs. he’s licking at you ravenously, dragging his tongue up and down, twisting around your clit in circles. 

you’re tugging on his hair, holding him close to where you’re aching, dripping, slicking up the lower half of his face. he’s groaning into you, starved and desperate. it’s been a week since you’ve seen him, had him like this, the longest you’ve done without him since the first time you’d had sex. its untamed and needy and you fear what it means, the way you’re so addicted to one another. 

you also haven’t seen your brother for a week, something you realise when you hear a key turn in the lock, down the corridor. you have seconds to react, the noise washing over you like a bucket of ice cold water. you squirm, pushing a very confused lando away, managing to kick him lightly in the head as you leap from the counter. 

“mon dieu! fuck, i’m sorry!” you gasp. 

“what the fuck is going on-“ you cut him off, slapping your palm over his mouth. 

you glance around frantically, looking for a way out of this. there is but one option available. 

“the balcony! just- fuck, get out there!” you shoo him over to the small window, begging him with your eyes. “please! i’ll get rid of him!” 

you can hear footsteps approaching. you’re sweating now, smoothing down your skirt and your hair anxiously.

charles calls your name, rounding the corner  and walking into your kitchen, just as you pull the window closed again. 

“shit, you scared me!” you fake, clutching your chest. you can feel your heart hammering. 

“i did knock, sorry!” charles looks you over, scanning the kitchen. “are you okay?” 

“yeah, fine, sorry, i must have been out of it. i’m in the middle of an assignment.” you lie. 

“oh okay, well i can always go…” he’s looking at you weirdly, and you fear he knows something, that he can tell. 

“can we get dinner tonight? i’ll book.” you offer, scratching your neck. 

“yeah, that’s great. are you sure you’re okay?” your brother asks, turning to leave. 

“promise, yeah, i’m just so busy with work, deadlines and all that.” you wrinkle you nose, feigning distaste. 

“well you can tell me all about it later, okay? love you.” charles says sincerely, smiling. 

“love you too.” you call, listening for the sound of the door closing behind him. 

you immediately rush for the window, throwing it open, peeking your head out. lando stands with his back against the wall, shivering in nothing but a t-shirt. you look at him sheepishly. 

“get back in here.” you tell him, standing back to give him space to crawl back through. “‘m sorry.” you giggle. 

“you’re lucky you’re worth it.” lando teases, stalking towards you and wrapping you in his arms. his skin is cold against yours, and you huff, try and push him off. “hey, i’m cold!” he pouts. 

“you know, you’re lucky you’re worth it, i could have just let him murder you.” you reason, looking up at him. your hands slide around him, returning his embrace, warm hands skating up under his shirt. 

“you wouldn’t.” he says simply. “i’m way too good in bed.” 

“you keep telling yourself that, norris.” 

“i don’t need to, you tell me more than enough.” 

lando leans down to kiss you, then, nothing all that unusual but it always feels like a step too far, intimate in a way that you two usually aren’t. you kiss him back regardless, because really, you love it. he always tastes minty, divine when you let him lick into your

mouth. 

“i believe we were in the middle of something.” he whispers. 

“remind me.” you breathe. 

-

and there’s also the time where he’s fucking you in his drivers room, the massage table thudding dully against the wall with every hard thrust. 

his race suit is pulled down just enough, your dress bunched around your hips, and he’s slamming into you mercilessly.

the whole thing was a blur, really; you’d always vowed that you would never have sex at a race track, but that promise was old news, now, broken the very second you caught the way he was staring at you. his eyes were hard, unreadable, jaw clenched as he glared at the man talking to you. you were just being friendly, catching up with franco, but lando wouldn’t have it, not after such a shitty race. one harsh snap of his neck towards the mclaren motorhome had you quickly excusing yourself. you knew what it meant. 

“you don’t talk to me at the track but you let him?” lando growls, rutting into you wildly. you cling onto the damp material of his racesuit, head thrown back. 

“was just saying hello.” you gasp out, opening your eyes to look up at him. he’s staring down at you, angry. it’s hot.

“i don’t wanna see you talking to him. you see how he was looking at you? fucker should know who you belong to.” he hisses, sliding his hand between your legs. “you’re gonna cum for me when i say, okay? and you’re gonna be nice and loud, honey. no holding back.” 

“lando i’m-“

“when. i. say.” he cuts you off, punctuating each order with a snap of his hips. 

all you can do is take it, dripping all over him. you can hear it, the wet squelch of him filling you up. 

“should mark up this pretty neck, yeah? let everyone know that you already belong to someone.” 

you barely register what he’s saying, but the words leave you hot, pushing you even closer to the edge and you clamp down around him. 

“squeezing me so tight, bet you’ve wanted me all day, huh, honey? saw you looking at me earlier, pretending like you weren’t when i caught you. couldn’t just asked and i would’ve fucked you right then.” lando grunts. you wail out, thrashing against the makeshift bed and he nods, letting you know it’s okay. 

“that’s right, pretty girl, that’s it. been so good letting me have you. cum for me, baby.” 

baby.

it’s the first time he’s ever called you that. it’s the final push you need. 

he collapses into you as he finishes, sweaty curls plush against your bare shoulder. you’re both panting, spent, basking in the moment of silence.

“thank you.” he whispers, sealing it with a kiss against your neck. it tingles, a foreign feeling settling in your belly, shooting through your veins. 

“you drove really well.” you reply, quiet. his breathing halts, a self deprecating laugh filling the room. 

“don’t do that.” 

“what?” 

“act like you were watching my race. charles have a great drive, that must have been a lot more interesting.” 

“maybe, but i was watching you.” 

your words hit him hard. he can’t help but kiss you. you swallow a moan, and a whole heap of feelings that you’re too scared to tackle. 

“you better go. will i see you in brazil?” 

“yeah, lando. you will.” 

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-

PART TWO IS HERE!

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[hoshifighting]

rival fashion designer!minghao

— synopsis: where minghao flexes his fashion awards whenever your brand competes against him during fashion week. — WC: 3k — WARNINGS: explicit language, smut, reader uses a transparent clothing (just like rihanna in oscar x swarovski), oral (f. receiving) ENORMOUS DICK!MINGHAO, slight face slap, mentions of choking on a cock, penetrative sex—or trying to.

look, you weren’t trying to start beef with minghao. you don’t even know why the dude hates you so much. okay, maybe you said one thing about his fall line looking like it got snatched off the clearance rack at an IKEA. but that was a year ago. and also? you were drunk and kinda bitter ‘cause your show got bumped for his stupid avant-garde puff-sleeve renaissance clowncore shit.

but now, every fashion week is like a personal vendetta for him to humble you. you’ll be vibin’, sipping your overpriced latte in the designer lounge, and this man will just stroll in, decked out in some vintage runway piece that costs more than your annual budget, flashing that “i won best emerging designer again” smirk like it’s a fucking weapon. and then he’ll throw some casual shit like:

“oh, y/n, is that your collection over there? i thought they were setting up for the kid’s line showcase.”

[...]

so this year, you swore you wouldn’t let him get in your head. you’d play it cool, professional, unbothered. except you walk into your studio late one night, the day before your big runway debut, and this man is just there. sitting on your worktable. wearing a pearl-studded harness and leather pants so tight it should be a crime.

you freeze, halfway through the door, holding the iced coffee you begged your intern to grab five minutes before starbucks closed. “what the fuck are you doing here?”

minghao barely glances up from his phone. “your assistant let me in.”

traitor.

“why?” you slam the coffee on the counter, praying your voice doesn’t shake. the audacity of him just existing in your space is enough to make your blood boil.

he stands, slow as hell, like he’s got all the time in the world. he’s tall—annoyingly tall—so when he steps close, you’re immediately at a disadvantage. but you refuse to back down.

“just wanted to check out the competition,” he says, eyes flicking lazily over the chaos of fabric swatches and half-finished sketches strewn across the room. “cute line. very... simple.”

“fuck you, hao,” you snap, crossing your arms. “it’s called ‘minimalism.’ not that you’d know anything about taste.”

he laughs, soft and low, the kind of sound that creeps under your skin and lingers there. “oh, i have plenty of taste. i just don’t need to keep it basic to get attention.”

and here’s the thing: you hate how much he gets to you. he’s a smug asshole with an overinflated ego, but he’s also stupidly talented, and you can’t ignore the fact that his lines always sell out in under a day. or how his press coverage makes yours look like a local craft fair feature.

but what really gets you is how hot he looks right now, with his ridiculous cheekbones and the glint of that tiny silver chain peeking out from under his collar. it’s disgusting. you hate it.

you’re about to throw a cutting remark his way, something about how he’s overcompensating with all that jewelry, but he beats you to it.

“you know,” he murmurs, stepping even closer, “you’d look good in my designs.”

your brain short-circuits. “excuse me?”

“if you ever want to elevate your style...” he trails off, dragging his gaze down the length of your body like it’s a runway.

“you are so full of shit,” you hiss, but there’s no heat behind it, because your stupid traitorous brain is suddenly imagining what it’d feel like to have his hands on you.

he smirks, all teeth and danger, leaning in so close you can smell his expensive cologne. “maybe. but you’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?”

you don’t answer.

[...]

the next morning, you’re running on zero sleep, fueled by pure spite and caffeine, but your runway show? flawless. models everywhere, hair spray choking the air, seamstresses practically sewing on skin ‘cause the deadlines were that tight. and you were doing a thousand fucking things at once.

fixing a hemline here, shouting at a makeup artist there—“no, not clean girl aesthetic, we’re going full grunge today, wake up!”—all while struggling to get yourself into the swarovskied transparent gown you planned to wear for the night.

no bra, because tits were the least controversial thing in fashion. and the way the crystals draped over your skin looking likew pure art. nipples out and proud, paired with modern curls swirled to perfection and makeup that screamed chaos-but-make-it-glam.

by the time your collection hit the runway, your nerves were shredded. but watching the models strut, each piece shining under the lights... fucking worth it.

and then, the finale: your dress sweeping dramatically across the stage as you closed the parade. you bowed to the crowd, letting the cameras and whispers soak in every inch of you, and as you turned to leave, you felt it.

minghao’s sharp eyes.

you caught his eyes just as they traveled the length of you—from the swirl of your hair, to the unapologetic sharpness of your nipples under the crystals, to the shimmer of your dress, down to the towering heels on your feet.

you just smirked to yourself as you headed backstage, knowing full well your collection didn’t just crawl under his skin this time. it slithered under his flesh, wrapped tight around his ribs, and squeezed.

[...]

minghao’s models stormed the runway like it was their goddamn birthright. and of course, you watched. no designer worth their silk ignored the competition, and minghao wasn’t just competition, he was a walking masterclass in making everyone feel like second place.

he closed his show with his usual flare, stepping out like he already knew the applause was his. fast-forward two designers later, and the nominations for the fashion academy awards started rolling in. you didn’t have to look to know minghao had already claimed half the early awards.

you watched him backstage through narrowed eyes as he balanced four trophies—two tucked in his arms, two in his hands—posing for a picture with that smug-ass smile. you knew that pic was already blowing up on his Instagram. your jaw clenched, nails digging into your palm as the last nominations were announced.

and then, plot twist of the year:

your name came up five times.

designer of the year: you.

new vision in fashion: you.

collection of the year: your brand.

runway innovation: your brand.

showstopper of the year: your brand.

walking out with those five heavy-ass awards in your arms? victory tasted better than champagne. your models and team practically swarmed you, hyping you up ‘cause they knew how much blood, sweat, and tears went into this collection.

but what you really wanted... minghao. definitely minghao. minghao, in your line of sight. because after all the times he flaunted his wins like a smug bastard, you wanted him to feel this.

and lucky for you, fate delivered.

you spotted him in the back hallway, leaning against the wall, scrolling through his phone. clearly, he hadn’t heard the last nominees. his head snapped up when your heels echoed through the space.

“oh, hey, hao,” you called out, voice sweet as honey but sharp as glass. you stopped just short of him, shifting the five trophies in your arms so they pressed against your chest. the weight of them pushed your tits up just enough to catch his eyes.

“looks like I’ve got... a plus one on you this year.” you smirked, shaking the awards a little for good measure, the motion making the crystals on your dress catch the dim hallway light.

his eyes flicked down—brief, subtle, but not subtle enough—and then back up, his expression neutral, but you could feel the shift in his ego.

“congrats,” he said, the word clipped like it physically hurt him.

“thanks, babe,” you purred, turning on your heel with a sway of your hips. “see you next season. maybe.”

and with that, you left, letting the click of your heels carry the weight of your victory.

[...]

days later, you were lounging in minghao’s big leather chair, legs crossed up on his table, showing the expensive ass high heels you always wore. his assistant had let you in with barely a question, and you weren’t one to waste an opportunity.

when he finally walked in, his eyes narrowed immediately. “what the hell are you doing here?”

“relax,” you drawled, leaning back like his office was a spa. “your assistant said I could wait. guess they like me more than you.”

he folded his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “didn’t think you’d show your face here after the other night. thought you’d be busy polishing all those trophies.”

you grinned, slow and smug. “oh, i polished them. just thought i’d stop by to see how you’re doing. must be hard, you know—losing.”

his jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. instead, he stepped closer, looming over you. “you done?”

“not even close,” you said, standing up to match his energy. you stopped just shy of his chest, tipping your chin up. “but don’t worry, hao. i’ll let you borrow a trophy sometime if you really need the validation.” you patted his shoulder.

he scoffed, his lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. “you know, i like your attitude.”

you raised an eyebrow. “yeah? you must, considering how much you stalk me every season.”

“maybe that’s why we should work together.”

you laughed, loud and sharp, tossing your head back. “oh, that’s rich. you? work with me? what, so you can take credit for my ideas and call it a ‘collaboration’?”

he tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “i’m serious. we’d be unstoppable.”

for a second, you almost believed him. “unstoppable, huh? what makes you think i’d even want to work with you?”

“because you like the challenge... admit it. you love it when i push you.”

“you’re intolerable.”

“and yet,” he murmured, stepping so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, “you haven’t left yet.”

your laugh came out breathy this time, your pulse quickening as his hand grazed the curve of your hip. “you think I’m staying here for you? please. your assistant let me in, remember?”

“sure,” he said. his thumb traced slow circles against your side, almost lazy. “but you’re still here.”

you were about to snap back with something cutting, something to wipe that stupid smirk off his face, but then he tilted your chin up with two fingers, his gaze locked on yours like a predator sizing up prey.

“stop thinking,” he whispered, leaning in just enough for your lips to almost touch. “you might actually enjoy yourself.”

his lips were soft and plump, moving against yours so fucking good that felt unfair. his hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him, and you couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped.

your hands found his chest, the fabric of his shirt warm under your fingertips as you pushed him slightly, breaking the kiss with a smirk. “you’re bold, i’ll give you that.”

“you’re still thinking,” he teased, catching your bottom lip between his teeth before pulling back.

your hands slid up to his shoulders, gripping just enough to feel the flex of his muscles. you threatened to sit on his table.

his eyes widened slighty, his hands immediately grabbing your ass to lift you up, making you yelp. “don’t!”

“what? scared i’ll break it?” you teased, wrapping your legs around his waist.

he places the needles that were spread lazily on the table, inside of a box. he turned, his grip firm as he carried you a few steps and sat you on a nearby armchair.

“there were needles on that table, genius,” he scolded, his tone sulky but his fingers tracing slow lines along your thighs. “you’d be bleeding before I even got started.”

“aww,” you cooed, dragging your nails down his neck. “you worried about me, hao?”

“no,” he muttered, kneeling, dipping his head to kiss along your jawline, his teeth grazing just enough to make you arch towards him. “just don’t want to ruin my night with a trip to the hospital.”

your laugh turned into a soft moan as his lips found the spot just below your ear. “guess you’re not as heartless as you act.”

he pulled back slightly, his smirk sharper than ever. “you talk too much.”

you pulled him in for another kiss, your tongues colliding this time. when you tried to take control, tilting your head for a deeper angle, he pulled back just enough to make you chase him.

minghao’s hands were firm on your thighs, his thumbs brushing against your skin like he wasn’t about to wreck you in the middle of his office. his eyes dragged down, lingering on the way your skirt was pushed up, the space between your legs bare and unapologetic.

he clicked his tongue, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “no panties, huh?” he said. “came here like this?”

“what can I say?” you shot back, shifting slightly so his hands pressed harder against your skin. “i had a feeling you’d end up on your knees.”

his smirk deepened, his fingers tightening slightly as he leaned in, close enough for you to feel his breath. he pressed your legs further onto the armrests, spreading you wider, his hands splayed like he wanted to leave imprints.

his tongue flicked out, close enough to make you tense—but he didn’t touch you. instead, he pulled back, his eyes locking with yours as a smirk tugged at his lips.

he leaned in again, his tongue brushing so close you could feel the warmth from his breath, but once again, he pulled back just as you tilted your hips forward.

“hao..” you warned.

“what?” he teased, his lips hovering over your folds.

your hands gripped the armrests as you glared down at him. “if you don’t stop playing, i swear—”

he cut you off with a broad, strong lick, dragging his tongue from your entrance, through your folds, and up to your clit in one unbroken suck. your head fell back as a gasp tore from your lips.

“that shut you up,” he muttered, his voice muffled as he dipped lower, his tongue swirling around your entrance before moving back up. “needy much?”

“shut up and do it again,” you shot back, your voice sharper than the way your thighs trembled under his grip.

and he did the same. your clit throbbing at the rough skin of his tongue, making you melt on his armchair, he smiled at the sight, he knew how a good head felt after months dealing with needles and sparkly cloths.

his lips latched onto your folds, sucking them into his mouth before he pulls back just slightly, his tongue flicking against your clit in quick, teasing strokes. you let out a pornographic moan, before your clap a hand on your mouth, remembering the team outside the office. he chuckled darkly, his hands tightening on your thighs to hold you still. his lips wrapping around your clit again. this time, he sucked it fully into his mouth, his tongue flicking against it as his eyes flicked up to yours.

“you’re so good at this, hmm—fuuuck!” you said, your nails drowning in the leather of the armchair. “you must’ve practiced on a lot of other girls, huh?”

his eyes narrowed slightly, and his teeth grazed your clit just enough to make you wwhimper. “jealous?” he asked, his voice smug, though he didn’t stop the relentless motion of his tongue.

“please,” you shot back, though the way your breath hitched betrayed you as he did a zig-zag on your bud with the tip of his otngue. “you’re better when you’re silent.”

he smirked against you, his lips curving as he pulled back just enough to speak. “then shut me up.”

your fingers tangled in minghao’s hair, tugging him closer, harder, until his face was buried against your pussy. his groan vibrated through you, desperate, and his hands clamped down on your thighs to steady himself as you rolled your hips against his mouth.

“that’s it... mhmm, just like that...”

he obeyed, his head bobbing as his tongue slid against you in broad, wet strokes, his lips sealing around your clit every few seconds to suck, deep and rhythmic. the wet, obscene sounds filled the room, and your nails scraped lightly against his scalp as you held him there, guiding him exactly how you wanted.

the heat in your core coiled tighter, and you barely had time to register your orgasm hit.

your back arched, your mouth falling open as moans spilled out shamelessly. your hips rolled against his face as you came, and minghao didn’t stop—not for a second. he worked you through it, sucking and licking as though he felt your climax before you did.

he only pulled back when you began to squirm, your breath coming in sharp gasps as overstimulation took hold. his lips and chin were slick as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes glinting as he looked up at you.

“had fun?” he asked, sarcastically.

you gave a breathless laugh, your chest heaving as you leaned back in the chair. “you talk too much for someone who just spent five minutes swallowing my pussy.”

his smirk widened, and he stood, his hands braced on the armrests as he leaned down, his face inches from yours. “and you talk too much for someone who’s about to beg me to fuck her.”

your gaze flicked to his lips, and then lower—to the bulge straining against his pants. “big words,” you said. “let’s see if you can back them up.”

his hands slid to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he walked you back toward the desk—no needles this time. you didn't even had time to register what was happening before your skirt was pushed higher, his fingers brushing over your thighs as he settled you on the edge.

his hand worked his belt, the clink of the buckle making you clench around nothing.

“this isn’t gonna be quick,” he said as he freed himself, the sheer size of him making your breath catch. it was big both in length and girth.

you swallowed hard.

“relax... mhmm”

he teased your entrance with the tip, sliding it slowly against you, and the stretch was immediate, even as he slightly pressed in. your breath hitched, your hands gripping the edge of the desk as he pushed forward, achingly slow, giving you time to adjust.

“ngh—fuck!” you gasped, your voice breaking as he filled you inch by hard inch.

“breathe,” he murmured, his tone gentle despite the tension in his body. mouth glued on yours to make sure he feels your puffs of air.

“trying”

he paused, his hands tightening on your hips as he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. “you’re okay,” he whispered. “just breathe for me.”

you hiccuped, your chest rising and falling in shallow gasps as your body struggled to adjust.

“there you go,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw as he waited “good girl. just like that.”

you exhaled slowly, your body relaxing slightly helping him to slid in further, the fullness stealing the air from your lungs.

your hands gripped his arms, your nails digging into his skin as he finally bottomed out, his body pressed flush against yours.

“fuck,” he muttered, his voice tight as he buried his face in your neck. “you’re—so fucking tight.”

you swallowed hard, your head tilting back as you tried to catch your breath. “you’re—so fucking big.”

he pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours as a smirk tugged at his lips. “think you can take it?”

your breath hitched, and you nodded, your hands sliding to his back as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “try me.”

minghao hips pulls back just an inch before thrusting forward experimentally. the sound that left your lips was somewhere between a moan and a strangled gasp, your nails biting into his shoulders as your body clenched around him.

he paused, a smug smile tugging at his lips as he tilted his head to the side, his eyes flicking over your face. “yeah, knew that’d happen.”

“don’t—” your breath hitched as he moved just slightly, a tiny shift that made you clutch at him even harder. “don’t fucking smile like that.”

his laugh was quiet, he leaned down, his forehead brushing against yours. “why not? you’re almost cummin already.”

“i’m not—” the words caught in your throat as he slid just a little deeper, your body trying desperately to adjust to his size.

“not what?” he asked, his tone playful as he stilled again, waiting for you to catch your breath.

“not—cumming” you managed, though your voice shook with the effort of speaking.

“hmm.” his thumb grazed your clit, circling it trying to soothe your nerves. “then why are you holding on to me likethat?”

you glared at him, though the effect was probably ruined by the way your mouth fell open with a gasp as his thumb pressed down just slightly harder.

your body tensed as he began to move again, sliding in slowly, each inch dragging against you in a way that made your head fall back. the wet squelch of your body adjusting to his girth filled the room, obscenelly.

“shit,” he muttered, his voice tight as he wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you steady. “you’re so—tight. feels like you’re trying to squeeze me out.”

“maybe i am.”

he laughed softly “you’re all talk,” he murmured, his thumb still circling your clit. “that pussy is begging for me.”

“hao,” you whispered, your hands clutching at his arms as your legs tightened around his waist. “i—fuck, i can’t—”

“you can,” he said softly, his lips moving against your neck. “breathe for me, baby. you’ve got this.”

you exhaled shakily, your chest rising and falling against his as you tried to relax, tried to let the tension in your body melt away. his thumb pressed a little harder against your clit, insistent, coaxing pleasure to override the discomfort.

“that’s it,” he murmured, his voice soft as his arm tightened around your waist. “just like that. let me in.”

your head fell back, your eyes fluttering shut as he finally slid deeper, his hips pressing flush against yours. the sensation stole the breath from your lungs, and your fingers dug into his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor you.

“you okay?”

you nodded weakly, your hands sliding up to grip his hair as you whispered, “move.”

he chuckled as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “not yet.”

your eyes snapped open, frustration bubbling in your chest as you glared at him. “hao—”

“relax,” he murmured, his thumb circling your clit again, making you cry out slyly. “i’m not gonna ruin you all at once. gotta make sure you can take it.”

“i can,”

“we’ll see,” he said, his tone smug as he finally, finally pulled back, his cock dragging against you.

“hao, just—fuck me already.”

his laugh was quiet. “you’re not ready for that yet, look—” he roll his hips, making you hiccup again. “but don’t worry—I’ll get you there.”

“how about you?” you ask, feeling your orgasm building up as he circled the thumb faster, your hips rolling slightly, weak, like the cock inside you was to heavy to make you roll them freely.

“i can get off just by looking at this pretty face...” he slaps your cheek weakly, twice, making you squeeze around him. “listen to what i'm telling you… you're still going to model for my brand.” he chuckles.

“i’d rather choke to death than work with your brand.”

“why don’t you choke on something else, then?”

[cheriewritings]

HIIII!!! I saw the requesting process!

can I order

Matcha cupcake

kinder Bueno pancakes

watermelon slushie

Chai with milk

cherry green tea

Matcha latte

character -> oscar piastri

Thank you for the request! This is pretty mild for enemies to lovers, I hope you don't mind! There's also kind of a lot of background things, not just the smut, as I wanted to do a proper setting! Please feel free to let me know what you think!

cw: communication issues, 18+ content, rough sex (kinda), aftercare

Love, Cherie<3

You've known Oscar for a couple months now. You first met the driver at a casual party of a mutual friend. And for some reason, unlike everyone, you seemed unable to hold a civil conversation with him.

Maybe it was the way he looked completely uninterested, when you came up to him, to ask a simple question. Or how he was always calm, no matter the situation, no matter how you felt. You truly didn't know.

But the fact is, every chat, every even slightly pointed glance, the smallest interaction would ignite flames and fighting. And you didn't understand it. You didn't understand yourself and your feelings.

There you are, sipping a cola on ice, in a slight haze, as your eyes take in the stuffy room of a friend's apartment. The movement of the people dancing around seems slowed and a bit blurry.

You're not drunk at all, but rather detached. You've had a bloody awful day, after you had an argument with a family member. You wish to forget, to take your mind off things, to think about only the pleasant things.

It's honestly a perfect situation to get drunk and forget, yet you hold yourself back, knowing that this isn't the thing you should be doing. Moments like that always end up the same, with you barely able to walk, stumbling to your cold, empty apartment, having to clean your own puke the next morning, with a massive hangover.

The world around you seems to swirl, the seconds tangling together into minutes, as you sit alone, swirling the liquid in your glass. You exhale shakily, placing your heavy head on your hand. You close her eyes tiredly, before opening them and looking up, just in time to see him walking through the door.

You want to scoff seeing Oscar, his unnerving calm expression present on his face as always. His eyes meet yours, as if feeling your stare... Or were you glaring?

He raises an eyebrow at you, his face nonchalant as if in a challenge. You straighten up, pulling out of your haze, not willing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you vulnerable.

Oscar almost rolls his eyes at your gesture, reading it correctly. His eyes soften slightly as he approaches you slowly. You don't take your eyes off him, having to look up more the closer he gets.

"Piastri." you say coldly, though your voice cracks slightly, indicating your slightly shaken state.

He observes you closely, his eyes narrowing knowingly, figuring out that you are not feeling too good.

"What's with the sour expression? You look unhappy, it's definitely not just because I'm here."

"Maybe it is." you mutter, but your eyes relax a little, as you give up on looking tough, knowing that he's got you figured out already. "Why do you suddenly care?"

Oscar pulls out a chair and sits right in front of you without looking away for even a split second. He takes in the way you're dressed, your expression, your hair, every single inch of you that he can see.

"Dunno. Maybe I just feel curious." he shrugs, with absolutely no shame, studying every single movement of the muscles of your face. "So? What happened?"

You exhale, giving up on trying to chase him away, knowing that while he usually looked like he didn't care about anything, once he settled on something, he stubbornly kept to it.

"It's not a good day for me." you say quietly, finally showing slight sensitivity, meeting his eyes, which soften slightly at your words.

"And so you chose to go to a party, instead of taking care of yourself at home?" he asks and although his tone sounds a bit scolding for some reason, for once it doesn't make you want to punch him in the face. His questions came off more as his way of showing concern.

You would like to keep believing he doesn't care. That he is completely insensitive to everything you feel, maybe even enjoys it when you're miserable. But in this moment, he's anything but that. Even though his words are reserved, the way his honey brown orbs follow yours makes your heart flutter a bit for some reason. His lips suddenly look more full than usual and oh, did he always have such a nice nose?

You open her mouth a bit, a little overwhelmed by those sudden thoughts. You quickly shake them off, trying to focus on forming a coherent response.

"I really don't want to be alone right now. The loud music and people are still better than sitting in my empty apartment right now. Even if it's not the best setting." you manage to say, taking a deep breath. "I didn't have any better ideas."

Oscar keeps looking at you, actually taking your words seriously. Seeing how you sit here, trying to handle your heavy heart makes him soften. He gets up and holds his hand out to you.

"Come on. You shouldn't spend an evening like that at a party. You can stay with me tonight."

Your eyes widen at those words. The guy who'd show disinterest in everything you said, who you'd fight with all the time, saying something so sympathetic? It feels unreal.

Your face heats up a bit, soft hints of a blush barely visible on your cheeks. You blink quickly, trying to calm down a bit, not able to look away from the man standing in front of you.

"We won't do anything you don't want to do." he says quickly, noticing your subtle reaction to his words. "I promise."

To hell with it.

You carefully take his warm hand and get up, stumbling a little, even though you are completely sober. Oscar immediately catches you, steadying you, looking down to meet your eyes, that are still wide.

Still in a slight daze, you let him lead you out of the party and walk down the street with you in the chilly evening air. You shiver a little, as you didn't bother to take a jacket with her.

Without hesitation, he takes his large hoodie off, and helps you put it on carefully, not saying a word. His scent immediately envelops you, as the fabric warms you up almost instantly.

He takes your arm gently and walks you through the empty streets. You press your lips together, utterly confused by the whole situation. Why did he start taking care of you like that?

"Thank you." you say quietly, not wanting to be ungrateful. A few hours ago you'd probably say that you hate his guts, but now... His actions leave you confused.

You walk in silence for a while, before finally stopping in front of his apartment door. For some reason you feel nervous, never having been to his home before. The whole evening made you doubt yourself and every single emotion you ever felt. Even though none of the things Oscar did were that big, they made you feel like a whole different person.

He glances at you and opens the door for you, actually acting like a gentleman for once. Or maybe he's always been one and you were just too busy focusing on his faults to notice? You really didn't know anymore.

He helps you to a seat, even though you are perfectly capable of walking by yourself and kneels down, carefully undoing all the little straps of your shoes. You feel her face heat up once more, looking down at the man on his knees before you, helping you with everything, without you even having to ask.

"Why are you doing this?" you whisper softly, looking at Oscar, who just got up and sat down infront of you. Your eyes are shining in the dim light, you is almost fascinated by the man and his doings.

"Because you need to be taken care of." He answers, softly, looking back at you, with something resembling determination in his eyes. "And I'll provide anything you need, so you can feel better."

Your breathing slows down a little, while your heart speeds up at that.

"Anything?" you whisper softly, your body almost aching to touch him, feel the warmth of his hands on your skin again.

Oscar nods his head and before he can say anything else, you lean closer, gently supporting his chin, while your lips touch his. Without hesitating, he puts his hands on both sides of your head, tangling your hair in his fingers as he takes the lead of the kiss.

You lean back after a few seconds, your breathing shaky, making eye contact with the aussie.

"Just tell me what you want me to do." he whispers to you, his eyes full of affection and warmth you didn't think he was capable of showing.

"Just... Make me forget about it. I want to feel you. Just you."

"Do you want me to be gentle?" he asks, assuming that you need only care and affection.

"The opposite." you whisper, making Oscar's breath hitch slightly. He gets up and lifts you up from the couch, twirling you around a bit, before rather quickly making his way to the bedroom with you. He didn't want to have you on the couch for the first time. This had to be more intimate.

He throws you down on the bed a bit roughly, crawling on top of you. You're still wearing his hoodie over your silver party dress, which honestly turns him on quite a bit.

"My beautiful girl." he murmurs, breathing in the sweet scent of your perfume, as he buries his head in your neck "All for me to have."

He places soft kisses on your jaw and quickly moves lower, to your collarbone, progressively getting rougher. He nibbles and leaves hickeys all over you, marking all the sweet spots that make you whimper and moan.

"O-Oscar." you stutter, gripping his muscular back a bit, before immediately releasing it as the sensations continue.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" he asks quietly, a small smirk on his face "Tell me how it feels, honey."

You bite your lower lip softly at the nickname, not expecting him to get this intimate so quickly, but definitely liking it.

"Feels... Amazing." you whisper, which makes him continue. He takes his hoodie off of you, before lifting up your party dress. His lips curl at your underwear. It's a simple lacy set, nothing too fancy. He doesn't need fancy though.

"Light green, interesting choice." he teases slightly, undoing your bra and sliding it off, careful not to scratch you with the clip. He'd rather leave all the marks himself after all.

His hands move to your now exposed breasts, kneading them in a painfully slow way, before taking one of your nipples in his lips, sucking on it and teasing it with his tongue.

It makes you moan, which causes him to smirk against your breasts

"Eager, are we?" he mutters, his head buried in your chest. Without moving his face away, his hand goes lower, sliding under your panties and feeling your already wet core.

His lips curl at the fact that he makes you so wet, but he doesn't comment on it for now, slipping a finger into you, making more beautiful sounds come out of your mouth. He attacks your chest with his tongue and grazes it with his teeth occasionally, all while working on your slit.

It doesn't take long, before you are close. Your mouth opens slightly as you let out another whiny whimper.

"Oscar... I'm..." she stutters out, looking down at the man who's busy pleasuring her body.

"I know, pretty girl." he smirks "But I can't let you yet." he pulls away, leaving your hole empty for a moment.

He takes his shirt off, making your eyes drift to his muscular stomach. He can see you enjoying the view, which makes him smirk again. Soon enough, he is completely naked, just like you. Still on top of you, he positions himself in front of your entrance.

He leans closer, his mouth close to yours. His dick is of regular size, maybe just a bit bigger than most. Still, you observe him a bit carefully, knowing that you asked him to be rough.

"You can take it, I know you can, baby." Oscar whispers and begins pounding into you. His movements are quite quick, cutting your breaths short, as he thrusts away. You both pant and moan, feeling pure bliss. You never would have thought having sex with him could feel so exquisite.

"God, you're taking me so well" he murmurs, going faster, which makes your moans grow louder "That's right, let me hear your filthy whines."

You both finish at the same time, breathing heavily. He collapses on top of you, making eye contact.

"You did so good for me, pretty girl" he whispers into your ear and rolls to the side, laying next to you, as you catch your breath.

You look at him your eyes turning watery. You suddenly feel even more vulnerable, after sharing this intimate moment with Oscar.

"Why wouldn't you ever look at me? Why were you always so cold?" you whisper, not able to stop yourself from asking the question that keeps disturbing your peace of mind.

He looks back at her, his expression soft, but serious, he wraps his strong arms around you, hugging you tightly.

"Because you intimidated me. I don't think I have ever seen a woman more enticing than you. I don't understand it myself, but I cannot keep my thoughts away from you. And it scared me sometimes."

You don't say anything to his words. You didn't need to. You let yourself sink in the warm feeling of being cared for. You look up to meet his gorgeous brown eyes and peck the tip of his nose, making him smile widely. He immediately responds with a soft kiss, only on your lips. You nuzzle up against him, breathing softly.

Neither of you say anything, simply finding comfort in eachother's presence. Soon enough, your eyelids start feeling heavy and you feel yourself dozing off in his arms.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

heya i love ur writing and i'm a whore for blue jones (mostly just oscar isaac in eyeliner)

but i love the idea of like a really soft blue. like needy but not sexually just in a 'i have a need to be around you all the time' kinda way. pining maybe? cuddles for sure and just idk i love my slimy rat man sm-

also would work for nathan bateman, his grumpiness would make that hella cute. i am surviving off crumbs at this point i will love whatever you do, your writing makes my heart feel fluffy :D

xox love ya

PYGMI I LOOOOVVEEE YOUUUUUUU! <3 <3 <3

Pout

Blue Jones x gn!Reader • Rating: PG pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? • ask-travaganza masterlist •

Summary: Blue's a grumpy baby.

Warnings: Fluff, cuddles, kisses, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 549

Blue had been sitting next to you for more than an hour. Well, sitting might be the incorrect word. His chair was next to yours. He was currently doing his best to sit all over you. 

“Blue,” you mutter, “I am meant to be going over these figures… like you wanted.” 

He grumbles lightly, shifting from where his face is pressed into your stomach, his body curled over and half hanging off his chair. 

You have your left arm resting on him a little awkwardly, in an effort to actually get to your desk to read over the numbers. 

“What was that?” You prod him lightly in the side and he wriggles. 

He mumbles something intelligible and then lifts his head up to look at you, half of his short hair sticks up comedically to the side. 

“Hmm?” 

“Fuck the figures.” He repeats a little groggily. 

“Did you fall asleep?” 

He gives you a soft glare. “Maybe.” 

You can’t stop your chuckle. 

“You’re comfortable and warm and you smell nice.” 

“You have a wonderful way of making compliments sound like insults, you know that?” 

He pouts slightly, but you can tell he’s amused by how he preens a little and stretches his neck. “Come and lay down with me on the sofa.” 

“No.” 

“With blankets.”

“No.” 

“I can rest on you and we both can nap.” 

“No.” 

“Why?” He stretches the word out, his voice petulant. 

“Because,” you lean a little closer, making him think you’re going in for a kiss and then pull back quickly and he scowls. “I am checking. The. Figures.” 

He gives you a frown, lifting his hand up to smooth over his moustache before he speaks. “Where’s my kiss?” 

“Up your ass.” 

He gives you the dirtiest look you’ve ever seen and you giggle. 

“You like this? Like upsetting me?” 

“Very much.” You smile and kiss the tip of his nose. 

He grumbles nonsense and wraps his arms around you fully before snuffling into your chest. “Unfair, so unfair, how could you betray me like this?” 

You kiss the top of his head as you go back to looking over the ledger. 

It’s only a few seconds before he speaks again. “Where are my kisses?” 

“Nowhere, not with that language.” You tease.

He tuts and you can practically feel the eye roll. “May I have a kiss, please?” 

“Now you’re making good manners sounds like demands.” 

“Does nothing ever please you?” He scoffs.

“You please me.” You whisper and you feel him shiver and untense. 

“Don’t go trying to sweeten me with your words.” He shifts closer and kisses your neck softly. 

You smile. “Give me five minutes and I’ll come and lay down with you.

“Thank you,” he breathes deeply. “You do really like winding me up don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” He leans back a little to see your face. 

“You poke out your bottom lip when you frown, it’s very cute.” 

He scoffs again, someone even more indigent this time. “I do not.”

“You’re doing it now.” You say, still looking at the book.

He sucks in his lips quickly and then gives you a firm stare when you smile at him. “You’re so mean to me.” 

“You love it.” 

He pauses for a moment, wriggling and then sighs. “Yes… I do.” 

Thank you for reading!

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[auras-moonstone]

hello there could i request jack x actress!reader where they’re co-stars on a show or film and they obviously have feelings for each other but it’s like “everyone knows about it BUT them” kinda thing lmao they act like a couple but neither of them has brought the subject up

let’s just say they were nominated for an oscar and at the vanity fair after party jack’s talking to a girl when he sees the reader talking dancing a little too close to an actor (who’s literally just a friend) and he just goes up to them like “hey can i steal you for a second? great thanks lets go” and just drags her to a more private part (maybe a romantic balcony?) and he’s like “wtf was that???” and she’s like “well i can ask u the same mr.” and it’s just angry love confession and they kiss (no smut pls!!) please and thank you so much 😁

angry confessions are the best😫 hope you enjoy it! 🫶🏻

you belong with me — jack champion

word count: 1,729

pairing: jack champion x fem!reader

summary: y/n and jack belong together and, while everyone knows it, they acknowledged it. though, at the vanity fair party, the very awaited thing happens.

EVERYONE JUST KNEW Y/N AND JACK BELONGED TOGETHER. And every person who knew them agreed in something—it was very frustrating to see them act like a couple and completely deny there was something going on between them.

The cast of Avatar watched their bond born and blossom. It had been two years since they finished filming that movie, and the cast thought that, by now, they had already admitted their feelings, as they continued to work together after Avatar. And, by the way they were acting around each other throughout the Oscar ceremony, they were sure they were finally a couple.

“Holy shit, Jack, Andrew Garfield is two tables away from us” she said excitedly. “Oh god, is that Margot Robbie? Jack please pinch me I think I just saw Robert Pattinson, also known as the love of my life”.

“I’m not going to pinch you, and your fan girl side is absolutely adorable” Jack said, leaving a kiss on her nose. Y/N laughed and hid her heated cheeks on Jack’s neck.

“I’m so happy for you two!” Zoe told them. The whole table was looking at them as if they were the most adorable creatures in the world.

“What do you mean?” Jack asked confused.

“It was very obvious, you two had always acted like a couple around set. We all knew you would eventually get together” Sam said.

“Oh! No, we are not together. We’re just friends. And we do not act like a couple” Y/N said. The whole table let out a groan.

“I can’t with these two anymore” Stephen sighed.

Jack and Y/N exchanged glances, but said nothing, letting the ceremony continue.

AT THE END OF THE CEREMONY, THEY ENDED UP GOING TO THE VANITY FAIR PARTY. How could they not? Especially after Avatar won an Oscar. They had to celebrate. And above all, Y/N and Jack wanted to get Zoe’s words out of their minds.

“Y/N?” a voice that sounded familiar asked. The girl turned her head around to see one of her ex co-stars, Nick.

“Oh, god. Nick! Hi. It’s been so long” she said excited. He was one of the first people she worked with, and one of her first friends.

“You look amazing!” he said, looking at her emerald dress.

“Thank you, you too” Y/N smiled politely.

“Wanna dance?” Nick asked. Y/N looked around, Jack was supposed to bring some drinks, but he was nowhere to be seen. She was about to decline, when she caught his figure. Jack was talking with a very gorgeous girl, who had her hand on his bicep and was smiling at him in a flirty way.

“Actually, I’d love to” she clenched her teeth, eyes not leaving the scene as Nick led her to the dance floor.

“You okay?” Nick asked. Y/N blinked, finally looking at him. She faked a smile and nodded as they made a conversation.

Hearing Y/N’s laugh, Jack’s head turned around and closed his hand in a fist at the scene in front of him—his Y/N dancing with some boy and laughing at something he was saying. And his hand was on her waist. Her. Waist. Not caring about being polite to the nameless girl—who can’t seem to get her hand off his bicep—anymore, Jack marched towards the dance floor.

“Hey, can I steal you for a second?” Jack asked, not bothering to greet the boy dancing with Y/N. “Great thanks, let’s go” he said before Y/N could even open her mouth.

He led her to the large window at the end of the room, which led them to a beautiful antique balcony. “What the fuck was that?” Jack spat angrily once he closed the door, blocking the sound of the party. The chilly wind of the night embraced them.

Y/N looked at him in surprise, then in annoyance and crossed her arms in front of her chest “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“That… in there” his tone was hard “You were dancing with him, and giggling and flirting… what was that?”

Y/N scoffed “I could ask you the same question, mister. I mean, what was going on there between you and Mrs. Clingy?” her nose scrunched as the image of the girl touching Jack crossed her mind.

“Nothing was going on between me and-” he paused and frowned “Mrs. Clingy? What?”.

“Oh, Jack your hair looks so pretty tonight! Oh Jack, your suit is very stylish and the fabric is so soft! Can I touch it? Oh Jack, have you been going to the gym lately?” she imitated the girl’s pitched voice, while touching his arms “Holy fucking shit, the mice from Cinderella sound less annoying than her”

“That is not what she was saying at all!” Jack rolled his eyes. Lies, that kinda was how the conversation went “What about your boy, then? As if he wasn’t being all clingy, with his arms on your waist and showing you his charming smile, which in my opinion isn’t as charming as the girls on twitter say”.

The girl furrowed her eyes “The girls on-? never mind” Y/N sighed “We were literally dancing! What was he supposed to do with his hands?!” she exclaimed in a loud voice.

“Well, why were you dancing with him in the first place?” Jack asked, his tone matching hers.

Y/N moved her arms frenetically, it was something she did when she got frustrated “He’s my friend! We did a movie together a long time ago, we were catching up”

Jack let out a dry laugh “He sure as hell doesn’t want to be your friend”

“Oh, you read minds now!” she said sarcastically.

“I’m not stupid, I certainly can tell when a guy wants a girl”

“You’re totally wrong, but if he did, what is the problem?”

“There’s no problem!” he forced a laugh. “Why would there be a problem? You can flirt with whoever you want, dance with whoever you want, date whoever you want!”

“Then what is this discussion for?!” Y/N looked at him, she was basically breathing flames when she talked. “There clearly is a problem—you can flirt with girls but for some reason I can’t flirt with boys?? And you have to drag me away to cause a useless fight and can’t even tell me what’s the real reason”.

“So you were flirting!” Jack pointed an accusatory finger at her.

She let out a groan of irritation “That’s what you got from all that?! Really?! Why are you being so insufferable right now?”

“Because I fucking love you!” Jack’s statement was as loud as the beats of her heart when she took in his words. “And I can’t stand seeing you dance with him, looking so fucking angelic. It drives me nuts how he gets to hear you laugh and your sweet voice. I want you to dance with me, I want you to laugh with me, I want the hand on your waist to be mine… and you know what else I want?” he asked, his voice gradually lowered as he spoke, and now it was soft as silk. And his face was only inches away from hers. Y/N was speechless, so she just shook her head “I want to kiss you, and I want everyone to see—especially him”.

“You are so… frustrating” she sighed, now her tone was calmer “He is just my friend, I promise. And I don’t want anyone but you, Jack. Ever since I met you on set, you have been the only boy on my mind. I don’t care how charming his smile is” she said, and Jack whispered ‘not that charming’. “He is not you”.

Jack smiled at those last words. He brought his hand to the side of her face, to pull away a strand of hair that fell from her ponytail “I’m sorry for acting like a jealous boyfriend. I had no right, it just… it pissed me off as much as it scared me”.

“Scared you?” she asked confused, leaning into the softness of his palm.

“The thought of you being with someone else, and losing you before I even got to tell you how I felt… it scared me” he confessed.

Y/N basically threw herself in his arms “I love you, Jack. And I’m sorry too, I also acted like a jealous girlfriend. And if it makes you feel less guilty, I was two seconds away from leaving the place with brunette strands of hair as a trophy”

At that, Jack bursted out laughing “You remind me of that villain bunny from The secret life of pets”

“Jack!” she laughed, pushing his shoulder gently.

“You’re so cute. I love you” he smiled as he left short kisses on her cheeks.

“Just for the record, you are also the least intimidating-looking guy ever. You are literally a golden retriever”

He grimaced “I’m a cat person”

Y/N rolled her eyes, smiling from ear to ear “Just kiss me, dork”.

Jack’s hands grabbed her cheeks as she raised her head to meet his lips. Their chests tightened as they became addicted to the softness of each other’s lips and the taste of cherry that Y/N’s chapstick provided. Her fingertips lost between his long curls as his traced circles on her blushed-covered cheeks.

They cursed the oxygen as they pulled away, breathless and complete mesmerised by the other, as if there were under the influence of some kind of spell. The magic broke with the sound of an opening door, and Y/N couldn’t help rolling her eyes at the sight of the brunette girl.

“Jack! I have been looking for you” her high pitch tone made Y/N’s jaw clench. “Oh, sorry. You don’t mind if I steal him, right?” she asked Y/N, a fake smile plastered on her face.

Y/N mimicked her smile “He’s busy right now. Come back never”

Jack tried not to laugh “Sorry, I want to be here with my girlfriend. There’s a guy on table 5 called Nick who is totally your type, though, you’ll like him”

The girl, clearly confused, turned around and left them alone. Y/N looked at Jack “Can we get out of here? I hate parties”.

“Sure, love. Movie and ice cream?” he asked, grabbing her hand and intertwining their fingers. Their hands, as always, fitted just right. Like they were made to go together, like they belonged together—just like Y/N and Jack.

Y/N smiled and kissed his knuckles “You know me so well, I love you”.

[formulateez]

mission failed (TEASER) | op81 + ln4

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader x lando norris

genre: filthy smut with a hell of a build up summary: the last time oscar and y/n had their fun, lando had to hear all of it. out of playful retaliation, he tries to fuck with them as a joke, but it backfires and he ends up literally fucking with them. word count: definitely something over 4-5k words, it's not exactly finished right now note: for the sake of the plot, oscar and lando share an apartment in monaco and y/n has been friends with the both of them for quite some time now :D

warnings: 100% nsfw, threesome, lots of making out, oral (m and f receiving), just barely any mxm but its not really the focus here, someone gets restrained for a moment, use of pet names, definitely more but i have yet to actually reach the smut part! i also haven't decided if i wanna make it a dp fic or not... :P requested?: no, but @/ay7ton's reblog gave me the inspo for this fic so i felt inclined to write it bc who wouldn't wanna get tag teamed by landoscar :D

extras: dividers and banners made with template from @/cafekitsune !! gif is from @/oqiwans !! // also!! if anyone would be interested in being in the taglist for whenever i get to posting this fic, feel free send me an ask or a dm!! <33

Oscar listens closely for the sound of the door locking, almost guaranteeing a few moments of privacy. You could feel Oscar almost tense up, looking over to your left to glance at Oscar. Before you could have a chance to speak, Oscar's lips already found themselves on yours.

Despite your eyes widening, you don’t hesitate to return the kiss. It’s gentle yet still heated, leaving shivers trailing down both of your spines. Almost as if neither can get enough, the kiss deepens, and Oscar moves to softly push you onto your back.

Oscar's hands roam your body with familiarity, while your hands find a slight grip in his hair. Your hearts nearly pound in unison as you both knew that Lando could walk into the living room at any moment. The both of you fought to keep your situationship a secret, but the adrenaline from the risk of getting caught brought too much excitement to pass up. You find yourself consistently peeking at the bathroom door, almost bracing for Lando to interrupt the moment.

Oscar's lips softly graze your cheek as he starts to trail kisses down your jaw, making their way to your neck. You lightly grip Oscar's hair, silently warning him to not leave any visible marks.

Oscar’s lips briefly tug into a smirk before he softly whispers, “Pretty girl, you know pulling on my hair like that is just going to make me wanna mark you even more.”

You rolle your eyes as you tug him down by his hair to connect your lips again. Both of you were momentarily distracted and didn’t notice that the shower had just shut off.

Panic flashes through Oscar as he hears the door unlock, and he abruptly breaks apart from you. You almost didn’t want that moment to end, and you found yourself wishing that Lando would occupy himself just a little longer. You couldn’t help but want to steal a few more kisses from Oscar. With the way Oscar's final glance towards you appeared, it seems as if he thought the same. The both of you quickly situate yourselves and return to whatever you both were previously doing on your phones.

Oscar debates in his head before opening his mouth to speak. “I had fun watching those two Transformers movies with you earlier. I used to think the movies were kinda corny but they’re fun to watch with you.” You felt a slight blush creep onto your cheeks as a soft smile tugs at your lips. 

“Yeah,” you contently sigh, “I had fun too, usually people don’t really enjoy my taste in movies.”

Oscar returns your smile before taking a step towards you, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. Gently grabbing your waist, his voice drops to a low, intimate tone. “Speaking of which, I was thinking we could continue that fun in my room. Free from the worry of Lando wondering why we’re taking forever to clean up.”

[teneleven12xiii]

Loscar AU where the night before his formula One debut Logan wakes up from a nightmare, it’s alright though, his boyfriend’s there to help him through it.

‘Logan Sargeant graduate to F1 with Williams racing for the 2023 season’

‘Alex Albon to race in Sargeant’s car after Crash’

‘Logan sargeant dropped for Remaining Races’

‘James Vowles; Williams team principal on Sargeant: “He’s reached the limit of what he’s able to achieve in F1”’

‘You’re not going to Monza, Logan, it’s for the best’

‘Not good enough’

‘Bad driver’

‘Failure’

‘Worst driver on the grid’

Logan startle awake, his body drenched with sweat in the cold February night, the distorted voices from his dreams echoing the same words in his head slowly fade out. He looks around the room dazed and confused, it’s still dark outside saved for the moon shining through the curtains of the hotel room. Oscar is dead asleep next to him, his hand laid over Logan’s hips– his fingertips sticking out of the black Mercedes sweater he stole from Logan’s luggage before they went to bed a few hours ago. The sound of the AC humming quietly in the room silencing the sound of Logan’s panicked panting and accelerating heart rate, he takes a few minutes to regulate his breathing and calm down. Oscar stirs next to him, his fist tighten around Logan’s t-shirt and his brown eyes eventually blinks open.

“Logan, What’s wrong?” Logan shakes his head, wiping the sweat off of his forehead,

“Um, I had a really weird dream, or a nightmare I guess,” Oscar sits up, looking half asleep and half worried,

“About what?” Logan chuckles, because now that he has calmed down a bit, the dream was quite ridiculous and improbable.

“It was kinda weird, and a bit long, you sure you wanna hear it?” Oscar smiles at him, nodding, so Logan begins, “it started after the championship in F3, remember I did the testing with Mercedes that year?”

“Uh huh,”

“Also remembered how I said that James Vowels, back when he was still working at Mercedes, how he didn’t want to sign me but Toto signed me anyways? Well in my dreams Vowels was the one who made the decision and I had no funding so I drove for Charouz in f3 while you went to F2,” Oscar nods along, “I won the very last race of the season in that Charouz, I know a miracle,” he laughs when Oscar gave him a look, “I got signed with the Williams Junior Driver program and they paid for my F2 year with Carlin. I got to debut in 2023 with you and Nyck, it was a bad Oscar.”

“Why, what happened? I thought us making our debut together would be good, it’s what we talked about our whole life,” Oscar looks up at him curiously and Logan reaches his hand over and buries it in his soft curls.

“Well, it started off great, then you got better and I got worse, I constantly got 20th for most of the races, I was crashing more than I should. I got one point my whole year and people started to compared us, you were on podium after podium, you were doing great and I was drowning,”

“Oh, Logan, was that your only season?” Oscar asks, concerned whelmed in his eyes and Logan could feel it even in the dark. Logan smiles softly, at times like these he really appreciates Oscar being by his side.

“No. No, they re-signed me for the 2024 season, but the whole season they refused to give the upgrades I needed, it was one shit talk to the media after another. Vowels was courting Carlos Saniz to the media exactly like he did last season, I was forced to sit out when Alex crashed his car in practice. And finally, I got dropped right after Zandvoort,” Oscar throws himself on to Logan, tightening his arms around his waist as they both sink down on to the mattress,

“That’s fucking horrible,” Oscar’s voice muffled by the fact that he has his whole face pressed into Logan’s chest, “But hey, it’s just a dream right?”

“I guess, it just felt so real. It was like I lived through 4 years in just a few hours,” he sighs, draping an arm around Oscar’s shoulders, “I don’t know, I’m just a bit shaken up from real it felt, maybe,”

“Let me help remind you it was just a dream then, because we were teammates in F2, do you remember that?” Logan nods, “and you were never in the Williams Junior program either,”

“Yeah, I never was, was I,” an epiphany washes through him, he feels himself relax in Oscar’s arms,

“Let's go back to sleep,” Oscar reaches over to grab one of the phones off the nightstand, the bright screen flashes at them and Logan has to squint from the brightness. A photo of them at the 2022 FIA prize giving ceremony, with Logan holding his F2 championship trophy and Oscar grinning at him. Their free arms slung across each other's shoulder, Oscar has a similar photo as his lock screen from his own championship win in 2021. The time at the top of the screen shows that it’s only 3am, and Logan stares at the date, 29 February 2024– the season hasn’t begun, Logan hasn't been fired. He’s safe, he’s Okay, it was all just a dream. “Are you excited to make your debut tomorrow, rookie?”

“More than ready,”

[emberunderscore]

FableSMP EPIC the musical AU

whole thing comes from the perspective of Midas (as Quixis specifically) being Scylla, which means Icarus has to be Odysseus, which is also fitting tbh.

this is only based on the released sagas bc i dont have the vibe of the future characters yet (i dont look at a whole lot of snippets). also dont think about any of the blood family stuff too hard - theres nothing weird dw but it just makes stuff complicated with the gods

Monsters

Scylla - Quixis Midas

The ideas of Scylla being human turned monster, Midas is human turned Quixis, which in this universe could be something of a replacement for monstrous, which also works with 

Spooky bitch Midas propaganda

Look at my edit to be even more convinced

Polyphemus - Leviathan/Vorago

Probably makes most sense with Leviathan

Instead of the parent/child relationship with Poseidon they're siblings (ocie is poseidon)

Humans/Dead people

Odysseus - Icarus

Icarus has to be Ody because of Midas being Scylla

The song Monster

The conflicts within the plot work well with Icarus’ own relationships

Eury and Ody see each other as brothers, even though it isn't’t blood. Maybe they’re not blood related in this AU

Eurylochus: Rae

Brothers!!

Rae is seen as the leader of Lodestar, which works well with Eury’s place as the voice of the crew

Penelope: Centross??

prison duo

but it actually works because Icarus would do anything for him. just look at season 3

he's probably not smart enough to be penelope but the agenda is more important than that

Telemachus: Oscar

Ik Oscar isn't Icarus' kid but he is Centross and theoretically Centross would've been the one to raise him anyway

See Legendary

Polities: Athena

Optimist

Song open arms

"everything's changed since polities"

Perimedes: Caspian

Perimedes is the one who stabs Odysseus in the back to stop him from killing Eurylochus in Mutiny

For Rae? Cas wouldn't hesitate

Tireseas: Haley

Dead prophet

who else

Ody's dead mom: Isla

Isla is Icarus' mom??? In this AU??? /s

Gods

Zeus: Fable

Orignially this was Epros but I was convinced to change it

Massive ego

Yellow

Actual reasons in this post

Athena: Enderian

This could also be fable but I dont think Icarus would defy him like how he does

Goddess of the Mind, need I say more

Aeolus: Aurelius

They have the vibes I think

Aeolus is gender and so is Aurelius

There are a lot of options I think

I like the idea of the Winions(?) being the piglins they had in their bunker

Poseidon: Ocie

Ocean

At the beginning Ocie is so ready to kill people, she does not care for human life. Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves

She would do that for Vorago

Canon compliant beef with Icarus 

Circe: Momboo

My first thought was Ven because I'm a fucking dumbass

It makes so much more sense than Ven

Plant lady, plant witch

badass

girlboss

pretty woman

Hermes: Rakai

They have the vibes

One of the very few gods to tolerate Icarus

gender

Apollo: Malitae

Apollo sounds so fruity in god games

Apollo cares most about music in god games which is a form of expression so i think it fits for Malitae to be him

Hephaestus: Nexus

In god games Hephaestus' thing is trust, he's pissed that Ody betrayed his crew

Nexus is the Goddess of Loyalty so it fits really well that she'd be upset about that

Nexus was also a knight so being a god of blacksmithing isn't too far from that

Aphrodite: Soul

Aphrodite cares about Ody's mom's broken heart

If we thing of it in the context of soulbonds it makes sense that Soul would be upset about that

Ares: Netherum

Ares is the only one in god games to match Athena's power, which checks out - major god to major god

Maybe its a bit ooc for Netherum themself

But god of destruction as the god of war. thats something

Would totally step in for Soul

Hera: Perix

In this AU we ignore family dynamics- Perix is not married

Calls Athena "baby" (kinda gay)

Fits the vibe

can you come up with a better idea? no, nor could I (credit to Sardar106 for this casting lol)

Calypso: Ven

They're so "This could never really happen but let us pretend"

"I wish we could've been something"

Look at this post (person who reblogged has better words than me go read that)

thank you for coming to my au talk. please share your own thoughts and opinions (but also remember that i am objectively correct all of the time /j)

Updated after Wisdom Saga

[camillabanilla]

Jaune's short in RWBY Beyond. Miles kills it once again, the emotion in his voice was so raw.

Also HMMMM Ren, Nora and everyone know about Jaune being the rusted knight???? I reallllly hope that we get that reveal scene when we get volume 10.

Also Jaune quickly correcting Oscar about it being Oz who was the subject of fairytales. Guys the merge is imminent 👀 did you notice "Ozcar" tried to sound more like Oscar right after, when previously he had been sounding like Oz.

I'm also loving Ozcar and Jaune bonding in his way. Like what a wild set of circumstances that they kinda share. What a weird thing to have happened twice lol

[imeriayapping]

He doesn't know when it starts or even how.

Well if Logan tried to go back to see all the steps that lead him here he should probably start around 2021 when he first opened MotoGP race when there was nothing else to watch.

He was always hungry for more, watching as much different racing as he could, it's just motorcycles are a bit out of his comfort zone so he never gravitated towards opening a stream somewhere to watch.

Of course logan knew about it, about people in it and thought about Rossi the same way he did about Gordon and Hamilton if not for his own experience of watching than at least for how much lando was talking about him. As the Greatest of all.

It takes him a bit to learn all teams, how everything works and some major events but he gets there, fully emerged at that point.

Logan still doesn't watch all that much content of riders bc he's not interested in their personalities besides what they say about bikes but he catches glimpse of how insane it all is anyway and it fascinates him when he compares it to formula scenery where it's so political and everyone is second away from clawing at your throat.

Guys there are wild and don't have pr crafted personalities that they need just to survive. Next season starts, he gets into f2 and watching gets a bit more challenging on some weekends but manageable on most. And nothing would change if not for one bike that his eyes keep going back to and the guy on it that Logan starts watching press conferences forBc firstly bez is amazing and it's interesting to watch him on track. And secondly he's just so..... different, so open and always smiley.

It's fascinating to Logan because it's almost diametrally different from what he himself is. He loves a good hug don't get him wrong but living mostly alone on another continent from your family and all friends doesn't make for a lot of opportunities to express emotions through touches. Sometimes it feels like he can go weeks without meaningful contact. Also Logan can only watch how outgoing and extrovert marco is never even being close to that, sticking with few people that he knew the best.

It somehow transformed into following him on multiple platforms and watching whatever content motogp or his team would put out. It became kinda embarrassing at the point where he could understand a few Italian words from sheer amount of them that he heard before. It was a bit annoying not being able to understand a lot of stuff but he wouldn't prove "dumb American" stereotype by wishing for guy to speak only in English. Plus the way his voice sounded when he actually did talk in English was very cute, so nothing to be sad about.

Logan started wondering if this what admiration for drivers felt like because he never experienced it before always only motivated by his own desire to win not by those he saw on screens. It was pretty tough to rationalize by himself so he went to the most rational person he could think of (and totally not because it was his only friend on the grid,no) - oscar.

It was usual hangout for them only stained by somewhat awkward logan who didn't know how to approach subject until oscar points out his weird behaviour and makes him talk it all out while listening intently. In the end oscar just answered with short but straightforward "sounds more like you catching an internet crush that anything else" which made Logan spat out million protesters a second only stopped by solid hand on his forearm

"Look you should think it all over and if you still not sure I'll go to MotoGP race next month for promo so you can tag along and actually speak to the guy to see how you feel"It took him a while to evaluate everything and actually come to some form of conclusion but looking back oscar wasn't wrong, it's just Logan never catched feelings in similar way so it was confusing. But looking at it now it wasn't even surprising with how mesmerising marco was, resembling the sun whenever he went with his blinding smile and warm attitude. And Logan wanted to reach out to that shine too

But even ignoring all that he asepted Oscar's offer mostly to watch race itself because in person it would be way cooler than through small screen in shitty hotel room. Logan didn't plan on even going close to bez there because mortifying ordeal of confronting a crush that doesn't know you exist is a bit too much for him but it's not like anything ever goes according to his plan.

So this time what gone wrong was bez himself that catched a cute blonde guy laughing with sun rays in corners of his eyes while talking to someone but standing completely on his own otherwise looking a bit uncomfortable in unfamiliar space. And of course marco went to introduce himself because why waste such chance? Especially when his outstretched hand ready for handshake is met with blush and shuttering before he even managed to say anything besides "hi, I'm bez"

[landoom]

DAY 2 - CURSE

Also on AO3

“Oscar?” Lando asks as he takes the call, surprised to see his teammate’s name on the screen on one of their rare free Sunday mornings. Oscar is not a morning person and he always texts.

“Lando!”

Oscar’s voice sounds strange and it doesn’t take long for Lando to identify the tone as panic. Oscar never panics.

“Lando… Tell me you’re in Monaco!”

“Hum… Yes… Are you stuck outside after a night out or what?” Lando jokes because Oscar doesn’t do nights out.

“Not exactly…”

“Awww… Osc! You can tell Uncle Lando everything you know!” Lando teases but he stops when he hears another voice.

“Cabron! Tell him to come!”

There is no mistaking that accent.

“Ca-Carlos?”

“Shut up, Carlos! You were the one wanting ME to call him!”

“Because we’re in your apartment!”

“Guys?” Lando tries but the two keep bickering so he tries again a bit louder. “Guys!”

“Oh... Sorry Lando so… Hum can you come over?”

“Fast,” Carlos adds.

And okay, Oscar is never that jittery, Carlos is always way more polite and they don’t like each other so why are they together? The situation suddenly seems way less funny.

“Ok… On my way.”

“Thanks.” he hears Oscar say just before hanging up.

***

Less than fifteen minutes later, Lando is knocking on Oscar’s apartment door. He still has no idea of what is going on and neither of the scenarios his brain has come up with during the drive fits.

And still, when the door opens, Lando realises his scenarios are way less strange than what he’s seeing.

Oscar is dishevelled in a way that he even isn’t after a nap. He wears one of his boring white t-shirts but it’s covered in various stains. And he’s looking at Lando like a lost child in a mall.

But that is not even the strangest part… Lando’s eyes follow Oscar’s arm and there, in his hand is another hand that clearly belongs to Carlos.

Carlos who looks as bad as Oscar, just with fewer stains on his T-shirt.

“Come in,” Oscar finally says voice strained.

Lando follows his friends who are still holding each other’s hands. It’s kinda cute in a way. It’s true when they say hate and love aren’t that far from each other. But that still doesn’t explain why Oscar has called Lando in a panic on a Sunday morning.

“Ok, guys… I’m happy for you, really but why am I–”

“We’re not together!” Oscar cuts Lando’s sentence, turning to face him again. Carlos wasn’t expecting the move and he nearly tumbles.

“Hum… You’re holding hands.” Lando points.

“Yes, and that’s the problem!”

“Ok… I’m not sure I’m understanding what’s going on here.”

“We should sit,” Carlos suggests. “Have a coffee and then explain?”

Oscar looks at him like he’s an idiot. So they aren’t in love?

“Do you want me to remind you what happened when we tried to make coffee earlier?” he asks, gesturing to his t-shirt with his free hand.

Lando still can’t connect the dots and he doesn’t like coffee.

“Ok, we can sit but please tell me what’s going on!”

Carlos nods and moves towards the couch, tugging Oscar behind him. They sit next to each other, still holding hands when Lando plops on the armchair.

“So?” he asks, unable to hide his impatience. Nothing makes sense and Lando doesn’t like not understanding what is going on.

Oscar looks at Carlos, eyebrow lifted. Carlos doesn’t react.

“Are you going to explain? As I was so bad at it when I called Lando apparently… ”

“You’re the one responsible for this,” Carlos answers, moving their joined hands.

“What? Are you kidding me? Do you really think I’ve wanted this?”

Lando is startled by the way Oscar has just raised his voice. Oscar never raises his voice.

“Hum… Guys?”

“Sorry, Lando.” they both say at the same time before glaring at each other.

“So…” Oscar finally starts. “We’re cursed.”

Ok, that clearly wasn’t in any of the scenarios Lando imagined.

“What?”

“Start from the beginning!” Carlos says, elbowing Oscar who frowns at the touch.

“Yeah… So, this morning when I woke up, Carlos was there. In my bed. Holding my hand.”

“And I didn’t come here!” Carlos explains earning himself another glare from Oscar.

“Are you letting me explain or what?”

Carlos just shrugs. If Lando’s brain hadn’t shut off at the curse part, he would have found that funny.

“So… Yeah, Carlos didn’t come here by himself and… We can’t let go of each other.”

“What do you mean?” Lando asks, not sure he is processing all the information.

Oscar lifts his hand then and Carlos follows. He tugs towards the left and Carlos follows. Carlos tugs towards the right and Oscar follows. As if they were glued together.

“Oh…”

“That is an understatement.” Oscar deadpans.

“Have you tried to… tug harder?”

They both nod.

“We fell on the floor,” Oscar adds.

“You mean that YOU fell on the floor and made me lose my balance!”

“I fell because you tugged too hard!”

“Guys…” Lando feels the beginning of a headache around his temples. Oscar and Carlos's “hate” for each other was mostly amusing as they didn’t have to interact that much but this is getting a bit too much.

“Sorry,” they say at the same time again and, this time, Lando was expecting the glares exchange that followed.

“So… You’re cursed and you have to keep holding hands… And you called me for help because…”

“It was Carlos's idea. I wanted to call Max as his sister is a witch…”

“Lando’s mother is a witch, too!” Carlos explains, with a proud smile.

“What?” Oscar looks at Carlos and then turns towards Lando “You never told me that!”

“Sorry… Wasn’t sure if you were okay with magic and then the opportunity never came.”

“Ok… I reckon it’s not the right time to discuss this…”

“Ok… I’m going to call her and see if she can help.”

Carlos and Oscar nod as Lando grabs his phone.

***

“Yes, Mum… They are holding hands.”

“…”

“Yes, they’re stuck.”

“...”

“They tried…”

“…”

“Probably during the night as Carlos was there when Osc woke up…”

“…”

“Not really.”

Lando is pacing Oscar's living room, feeling Oscar and Carlos's gazes following him everywhere.

“Ok… yeah… Makes sense…”

“…”

“Oh… Are you sure?”

“…”

“Yeah, ok… I… Yes, of course.”

“…”

“They are not going to like that…”

“What?” Lando hears Carlos say but he doesn’t acknowledge him.

“Ok… And if it doesn’t work?”

“…”

“You’re sure?”

“…”

“Ok. Thanks Mum.”

“…”

“Yeah, I’ll let you know.”

“…”

“Bye Mum. Love you.”

“So what did she say?” Carlos asks as soon as Lando hangs the phone up.

“You… I mean… I’m just repeating what she said here.” Lando precautiously says as he sits back on the armchair.

“Go on. I don’t think it can be worse than being stuck with him.” Oscar says, with another glare towards Carlos.

“I think it could,” Lando answers as he remembers his mother’s words. She seemed really sure of herself and her explanations made sense…

“Lando… Come on!” Carlos insists.

“So… hum… It seems that the curses that link two people physically are always a way to make the people involved realise something…”

“And what are we supposed to realise? That we can’t coordinate enough to make coffee?”

Lando shakes his head and looks down before he continues.

“You’re meant to realise you have feelings for each other…”

“Feelings?” Oscar repeats.

“Oh, I have many feelings for that guy!” Carlos adds, ironically.

“The only way to break the curse is a true love kiss,” Lando concludes.

The silence that follows is deafening.

“You’re making fun of us, aren’t you?” Oscar finally asks, eyes wide open in pure horror.

Lando shakes his head. He was sure they weren’t going to like it. But now that he’s thinking about it, it’s not as ridiculous as it may seem. Like, he wasn’t that surprised when he saw them holding hands earlier. Hate to love and all that jazz. And, he’s close with both of them. He knows how different they can be but when he thinks about it, he can also see how they could complement each other.

”Lando…” Carlos asks, voice strangely low and unsure.

“Yeah?”

“Your mother… Did… Did she say it might not work… I mean… Can she be wrong?”

“She seemed quite sure.”

“Ok,” Carlos says, looking quite defeated.

“So… Hum… I’ll leave you two alone then,” Lando concludes, standing up again.

He notices the pleading eyes of Oscar but there is no way he’s staying to watch these two bickers for hours before they finally get to kiss each other out of desperation and… hopefully, realise that his mother was right and they might be a bit in love.

“Lando…” Oscar says, hesitating.

“Yeah?”

Lando looks at his teammate with what he hopes is an encouraging smile.

“We… Hum… We’ll keep you updated.” Oscar says finally.

Carlos nods and Lando can’t help but notice that it’s the first time they agreed on something.

“Have fun!” he says before seeing himself out.

And as he goes back to his flat, Lando realises he’s a bit envious… Not of the curse of course. But he’d love to have a soulmate, too.

As he thinks that, he remembers he didn’t exactly tell Oscar and Carlos about that part… They will discover it soon enough!

***

The first message comes only two hours after Lando comes back to his flat. It is from Oscar.

“Say thank you to your Mum.”

Carlos’s message follows a few minutes later.

“I hate magic.”

Lando laughs out loud at that, just before another message comes.

“Oscar told me to say thank you.”

Lando just laughs harder. This is going to be fun…

[blerb-f1]

Paddock shenanigans

Oscar Piastri x trad goth!reader PART TWO

This is a Sequel - find part one here

“Oscar, have you seen Y/N since the whole ‘setting your car on fire’ thing?” Mark Webber asked, fiddling with his steaming coffee mug. 

“No. Dr. Roberts returned and Y/N was off training with the FIA. Don't you remember that? You were the one that told me in the first place!” Oscar complained. Mark shook his head. “Right - I totally forgot. I got my hands full of your contract negotiation goin' on. Have you spoken to Y/N at least? I know you got her contact info.”

Now it was Oscar's Turn to shake his head. “Y/N had to hand off her phone. Secret FIA stuff or something. Training's been pretty intense from what I've heard. Almost a Bootcamp. Appears Dr. Roberts really wants to retire about now. “

Before Webber could answer him, however, his phone's special chime went off. A message directed to Oscar, who'd managed to toss his own phone in the bath, had arrived. Y/N was now fully starting at her position coming the Saudi Arabian GP.

The young Australian driver smiled as he read it.

As the GP weekend rolled around, Oscar found himself excited. Y/N was good to be around - or more than that. He couldn't really tell himself. 

The paddock was lively with music blasting, though not that much to his liking. The practice sessions went well for him, less good for Carlos Sainz Appendix. Y/N was the one to order him to the hospital. Oscar himself hadn't had the chance to spot the woman yet, but a chance would surely arise.

The second he finished that thought, Oscar spotted a familiar gloomy appearance.

Y/N stood in the distance, long black sleeves cuffed at the end, puffing up at her shoulders and fluttering in the wind, a dark hat resting on top of her hair. The second she spotted him, she jumped up and waved but also dropped her cup of coffee.

Oscar rushed over to her, ignoring the media, snapping pictures. 

“Nice to see you, Y/N. It's been so long! Should i call you Dr. L/N now?”

Y/N chuckled. “I don't think that's necessary after I managed to set your car aflame. Was McLaren angry at you?” 

Oscar cringed on the inside. The chewing out he'd received afterwards wasn't exactly simply lovely. “A bit. But it's all good, McLaren saw this as a chance to fix the car.” He took a simple look down at the spilled coffee on the ground. 

“Fancy a new mug of coffee? My treat at the McLaren Hospitality?”

“Coffee sounds good. Let's go!”

The Walk to the hospitality was short, letting Y/N sip on her new Latte Macchiato much earlier than she could have hoped to. 

“You look quite simple today. What's up with that?”

“That's pretty direct Oscar. Short answer: I'm a doctor now, can't turn up in a full face of makeup that gets somewhere it's not supposed to. Everything else? This is a Muslim country. Didn't wanna rock up too revealing - not that i usually am.”

“I feel like the bite you spoke of the last time we met is kinda gone Y/N.” Oscar exclaimed.

The woman just pressed her face on the tabletop, sighing loudly. 

“Oh Honey, you wouldn't know. Be happy you're a driver - FIA bootcamp is hell.”

“Hell?” He laid his head to the side, looking like a depressed puppy.

“Sleep deprivation, caffeine overdosing and overworking. They had me going from morning till evening and then last minute studying.” Her fingers were shaking as if the sheer thought was causing her agony. “I am, however, very well-prepared for this job now. Dr. Roberts can retire in peace now. I also got to meet someone great.”

She perked up at that before pulling out her phone. The wallpaper presented to Oscar showed her standing next to a lady in an old-school racesuit, looking quite old herself.

“I got to meet Michèle Mouton! I got to practise driver extraction on her!” With her voice rising high, one could feel Y/N getting excited.

“The rally Legend? That's hella cool Y/N. Though your fangirling makes me think you'd prefer working with her than in F1” Oscar teased her.

“Shut up mate! It's Michèle Mouton! Who wouldn't fangirl meeting her! She was quite happy seeing me enter the world of Motorsport. She even took me on driving laps around circuits and even road track's. Believe me, she scared the carsickness out of me.”

“So our doctor doesn't need a doctor of her own after a car ride? That's nice - i feel like I'm in much better hands now. Have you told the other drivers yet?”

Y/N balled her fists. “Who allowed you to be so cocky, huh? I rescued you from becoming cooked chicken in Qatar. Be grateful.”

Oscar bowed forward. “Thank you, dear saviour. How could i ever repay this favour?”

Y/N pondered for a second before answering. As she turned to speak, her beeper announced itself.  She read the little device before downing her coffee and standing up. “Sorry Oscar, that'll have to wait. I need to check over Ollie Bearman and his dad. Both are nervous wrecks. See you!”

She spoke before running out, sleeves fluttering like a crow's wing. 

Qualifying went well though Oscar couldn't spot the doctor again. Only after the actual race on Sunday did he catch her again - standing next to the medical car still in her racesuit, talking to a few FIA employees about something. Her hair had been put into a tight braid, looking disheveled from the helmet sitting on top. 

As she caught Oscar, she said goodbye to her colleagues before speeding off. 

“Congrats Oscar! I bet it felt great to finally leave Lewis behind you.” She greeted him.

“It sure did - a podium would have been nicer though”, Y/N fumbled around the medical bag slung over her shoulder before procuring a bottle of water of which she quickly downed half. “You came back nice and healthy - so that's all that matters. Want some?” She finished off with a question. Oscar took the bottle, letting the leftover water run down his throat. “Very good. You've been looking a little red again. Make sure to drink enough.”

“Yes Doctor, i will.” He cheekily responded to her. “So what did you want from me as payment for your chivalrous deed? Well, both good deeds now. Nothing's for free when you're concerned. I bet you want repayment.”

Y/N placed her hands on her hips. “Of course Oscar - take example of the Dutch. They even want you to PayPal a Euro if they buy you something.”

“Glad then that i haven't been in Max debt yet.” Oscar smiled at her again. “Want me to repay you in monetary value?”

Y/N sat the bag down on the floor, packing the waterbottle before turning to him again.

“I'd like you to take me out for dinner somewhere. You've got my number, right? I know Mark got you a new phone. So contact me with the time and place. I gotta go now! FIA isn't kind to people being late.” 

With that she zoomed off again, leaving Oscar behind in mild confusion. Had she just asked him to take her on a date? Apparently. He'd better get researching then.

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

Sorry for dissaprearing for so long - at first Exam Season kicked my butt and then writing papers was my 13th reason. Enjoy, i'll try to update more!

[synchodai]

HotD Episode 7 Live Reaction

But if you close your eyes, does it always feel like nothing's changed at all. But at least there be dragons.

I stiil don't like that Seasmoke fell in Addam's lap. Addam should have been the one to actively claim Seasmoke. I just really don't like HBO's insistence on "power is better wielded by those who don't want it."

"I may appear lowborn but I know much and more of service." Those two statements shouldn't have a "but" between them.

Maester Orwyle continues to be the surprise MVP of the greens.

The Master of Laws Iron Rod getting dialogue? The rumor mill works fast in Westeros.

I like that the nobility are putting so much resistance to lowborn claiming dragons. If there's anything that threatens highborn, it's social mobility.

For "20 years the lords of this realm levied insults against my sons," Jace confirmed to be 20. So he's just one year younger than Aegon? Now that wouldn't make sense because Rhaenyra wasn't even married during Aegon's first nameday during that hunt episode. Good to know Jace has been aged up though. He, Aegon, and Cregan are probably all in the same ballpark age.

I love Addam's acting, he's almost as expressive as TGC. But why are the interaction scenes on this show so short? "The family doesn't know how to communicate their feelings" yeah, yeah, but at least write down for them to have SOMETHING to say. Corlys came to this room literally just to say 6 words.

They should have given Oscar Tully red hair to make him stand out from the Riverlords. The scales on his armor are cool, but there should be more to visually signal that this kid is basically a petty king.

The camera following it's actors from the back is kinda...not doing it for me. I don't wanna see their hunched backs, I want to look at the sets and their faces.

"We honor the old ways." Most of y'all don't, though? Only certain houses in the Riverlands worship the Old Gods, one of them being the Blackwoods who are being accused of going against the "old ways." What do the HBO writers think the "old ways" mean?

Out of all decapitations on this series, this one had the least punch. Music and sound design did all the heavy lifting.

STOP SHOWING THEIR BACKS I DON'T WANNA SEE THE ACTORS' BACKS ANYMORE

Also, I can't imagine how this war will end if the Blackwoods aren't black loyalists. With Daemon executing their House head, I don't see them being that enthusiastic about supporting Rhaenyra anymore. Are they just gonna replace Benjicot with Oscar? And Aly is just...gone now? Who's gonna stop Cregan Stark then?

Again, we're just letting whoever inside the king's room even when he says they can't come in? Guards really suck on this show.

Alyn's voice is like honey. I could listen to this man read audio books.

And they just let the Targaryen princess run off like that? The guards on this show really suuuuuuuuck.

Poor Rickard Thorne dragged into Alicent's impromptu camping trip.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEY JACE, LOVE CLASSIST JACE. LOVE AEGON'S DREAM CRITICAL JACE. EEEEEY JACE AWARE THAT WHEN RHAENYRA DIES PEOPLE WON'T ACCEPT HIM. LOVE LOVE LOVE IT. Finally some character drama and juicy interpersonal conflict that makes sense with characters clearly stating their stance through dialogue and we don't have to fill in the blanks as the audience. I was so starved. They actually made what was in the book better with this one.

I like Hugh the Hammer's new storyline, sue me. It's a cliche call-to-adventure fantasy peg, but I like it.

"I need more dragons to end bloodshed." Rhaenyra, what do you think dragons do? Rhaenyraaaaaaa

Beautiful Vermithor shot. And of course they leave all these innocent poor people to the mercy of a merciless behemoth. Ugh, beautiful, blood sacrifice, cruelty, impressive sfx, yessss.

CLAIM THAT DRAGON. CLAIM THAT DRAGON. DO IT NAMED CHARACTER, you have a name and backstory so you can do it!

"Come on!!!" Vermithor: Well...when you put it like that, I suppose.

Nana Silverwing! She looks gorgeous.

WAIT, WHY DID THEY TAKE HER TO KING'S LANDING??? WHY IS KL AND DRAGONSTONE LITERALLY 5 MINUTES AWAY