#I enjoy the whole motorsport

[zibaldone-di-pensieri]

Me as a Mercedes estimator: goodbye Lewis 🥹❤️

Me as a Ferrari Tifoso: welcome 😍🥰

Me as a Sainz great fan: I'll get my revenge soon or later 😒😡

[verstappenverse]

Between the Laps

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Driver!Reader Enemies to Friends to...

Summary: When a rookie driver finds herself paired with the reigning champion Max Verstappen, sparks fly. Ambition clashes with undeniable chemistry, as their rivalry and relationship evolves throughout the intense F1 calendar.

Author's Note: Here it is, now just shy of 9k words! This fanfic is significantly longer and more narrative-driven than anything I’ve written on here so far. I really hope you all enjoy it, and I’d greatly appreciate any feedback you might have, thanks!

8.8k words / Masterlist

Race Weekend 1 – Bahrain Grand Prix

The paddock was alive with a low hum of tension and excitement, the air saturated with the distinct scent of burning rubber and gasoline.

You had been here before, in different categories as a rising talent in the motorsport world, but Formula 1 was a whole new arena. Walking through the Red Bull Racing garage you felt the weight of the world pressing down on you. This wasn’t just a race, it was your first F1 race weekend, and to top it off your teammate was none other than Max Verstappen, the reigning World Champion.

Max's reputation preceded him. The fierce competitor, a driver with an almost inhuman ability to push his car beyond the limits, appearing to be in a league of his own. Now he was your teammate or, more realistically, you were his teammate. It was his team, his title on the line, and you were just the rookie fresh to the team and to some extent an uninvited guest in his house.

As you stepped into the garage you caught a glimpse of Max. He was sitting with his usual air of intense concentration, eyes fixed on the telemetry data on his tablet as if he could solve every on-track issue with sheer force of will. His dirty blonde hair peeked out from under his cap. For a moment your eyes met, and a flicker of something passed between you. It wasn’t friendly. A short, curt nod was all he gave you before returning to his data, as if you were a distraction not worth his time.

You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the nerves gnawing at your insides. No one said this would be easy. Max was a World Champion, he didn’t have time for rookies.

Your debut race weekend came at you fast, a blur of press conferences, strategy meetings, and practice sessions. The eyes of the motorsport world were on you, and the pressure was immense. You had qualified a respectable eighth, but Max was on pole. It wasn’t just a gap in pace — it was a chasm. Still, for your first race it wasn’t bad, or at least that’s what you kept telling yourself.

Sunday, and the garage was bustling with energy, staff buzzing around like a well-oiled machine. Everyone knew their place. Everyone except you it seemed.

You were sitting in the team motorhome, staring at your race strategy when Max finally broke the silence between you.

“Nervous?” he asked, though the way he phrased it didn’t leave much room for a simple yes or no. His tone was casual, but his gaze remained laser-focused, almost challenging.

You looked up from your tablet, startled. He hadn’t said more than a few words to you all weekend. “Not particularly,” you replied, keeping your voice even.

Max’s lips quirked into a smirk, but there was no warmth in it. “Good. Nervous drivers make mistakes.”

You raised an eyebrow, unsure if this was advice or a thinly veiled insult. “I’ve been racing a long time Max.”

“This isn’t F2,” he replied smoothly.

“I know how to drive,” you shot back, feeling a flicker of irritation rise up inside you.

Max studied you for a moment as if weighing his next words carefully. “Sure. Just don't get in my way.”

And with that he stood up, grabbing his helmet and walking out of the motorhome without another word. You watched him go, your jaw clenched. He was right this wasn’t F2, but you weren’t going to let him dismiss you like someone who didn’t belong here.

The race itself was brutal. Max dominated from start to finish, winning with the same ruthless efficiency that had earned him the title. Meanwhile, you struggled. The car felt unbalanced, the tyres didn’t last as long as you’d hoped, and you made a few rookie mistakes costing you valuable positions. You finished with just one measly point, a disheartening tenth place.

As you walked back into the garage, still buzzing with the adrenaline of the race you could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. Max was already there sitting with his engineers discussing his race. He didn’t acknowledge you, didn’t even glance in your direction.

You slumped into your chair, exhausted and frustrated. Everyone tried to cheer you up telling you it was a good effort for your first race, but the disappointment gnawed at you. You didn’t come here to finish tenth. You wanted to be on the podium, fighting for wins, not languishing in the midfield.

From across the garage, Max’s voice cut through the noise. He was talking to his race engineer, but his words stung as if they were meant directly for you.

“They need to focus on my initial concerns,” he said, his tone casual but firm. “We don’t have time to worry about the rookies issues right now.”

You clenched your fists, the frustration building. It wasn’t just about the race anymore. It was about proving that you belonged here, that you could stand toe-to-toe with him. Max might be the reigning champion, but you weren’t going to let him walk all over you.

Race Weekend 4 - Japanese Grand Prix Qualifying

You stormed into the garage ripping off your helmet in frustration. Your heart was still pounding, not just from the high-speed laps but from the seething anger simmering under your skin. No matter how much you pushed yourself, Max was always one step ahead. The gap felt minimal, fractions of a second, but it might as well have been a canyon.

Max was already there, cool and composed, his pole position nothing out of the ordinary. He was talking with one of the engineers, a slight smirk tugging at his lips like he had already forgotten about the rest of the field. About you.

You could feel your blood boiling. The way he acted so untouchable, so certain of his superiority. Without thinking you marched toward him, your voice sharper than you intended.

"What's your secret Verstappen?" you asked, sarcasm dripping from every word. "Is it the car, or just pure luck?"

Max glanced over his shoulder, his expression unbothered. He raised an eyebrow that infuriating smirk growing. "Luck? Is that what you're going with?"

You crossed your arms, glaring at him. "I’m just trying to figure out how someone so smug manages to stay on top."

He turned to face you fully now, a look of mild amusement playing across his features. "Maybe it's not that complicated. Maybe I’m just better."

The arrogance in his voice was like fuel to the fire, and you took a step closer, your jaw clenched. "Or maybe you’re just used to coasting because no one’s challenged you here. You’re not untouchable, Max."

Max’s smirk faded slightly his blue eyes narrowing as he took a step toward you. "You think you’re the one to change that? Face it, you're good, but you're not there yet. You’re reckless, always pushing too hard. It’s gonna cost you eventually."

His words cut deeper than you expected. They weren’t just taunts they felt like a judgment, like he had already written you off. But you weren’t about to let him get inside your head.

"At least I’m not afraid to take risks," you shot back.

Max’s eyes flashed, and for a moment something darker crossed his face, something serious. "This isn’t a game you know. There’s no room for mistakes here. You’re playing with fire, and if you keep going the way you are you’re going to burn out."

His words hung in the air between you, the tension crackling like static. He wasn’t mocking you anymore, this was something else, something more intense. You didn’t know if he was trying to warn you or challenge you, but either way you weren’t backing down.

"I’d rather burn out than fade away," you said, your voice hard.

Max didn’t reply immediately, but his eyes locked on yours, unblinking. There was something unreadable in his expression, like he was seeing you in a new light, but it was hard to tell if it was respect or frustration.

"Just stay out of my way," he finally said, his voice quiet but charged. Then he turned, walking away, leaving you standing there with your pulse racing and your fists clenched.

You watched him go, the frustration and anger still swirling inside you. He was wrong about you—you weren’t going to burn out. But something about his words stuck with you, lingering long after he’d walked away, like an unwanted echo in the back of your mind.

Race Weekend 6 - Spanish Grand Prix

The race had ended hours ago, but the irritation still churned in your chest. Sitting in the team briefing room, the air between you and Max was thick with tension, as had become the norm. All you could hear was the pounding of your own heart, still replaying the near-collision between you and Max in your head.

Max sat across the table, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. It was like nothing got to him, like the chaos on the track didn’t even phase him. The way he remained so calm, so detached, only made your anger burn hotter.

Most of the engineers finally left the room and the door clicked shut behind them. The silence that followed was suffocating. You couldn’t hold back anymore.

"Next time," you snapped, your voice cutting through the quiet, "try not to run me off the track."

Max didn’t even flinch, he looked at you his expression infuriatingly calm. "You’re exaggerating."

"Exaggerating?" you exclaimed, your voice rising. "You practically forced me off the track at Turn 8! If I hadn’t backed off, we’d have both been out of the race."

Max sighed, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table. "It’s racing. Hard racing. If you can’t handle it, maybe you should reconsider what you’re doing here."

You clenched your fists under the table, every muscle in your body tensing. You knew part of the anger was stemming from knowing there was truth to his words, but you weren't going to admit that anytime soon.

"I can handle hard racing just fine," you shot back. "What I can’t handle is you acting like you’re the only one who deserves to be here. I’m your teammate Max, not your punching bag."

Max’s eyes darkened, and for the first time, you saw something else behind his cool exterior—annoyance, maybe even anger. "Teammate?" he repeated, his voice colder now. "You don’t act like one. You drive like you’re the only person on the track."

You laughed bitterly, unable to hold it in. "That’s rich, coming from you. You’ve spent this whole season so far treating me like I’m not even worth your time. It’s like you can’t stand the idea of someone else being good enough to challenge you."

Max stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. His sudden movement startled you, but you didn’t back down.

"Challenge me?" he said, his voice low but sharp. "This isn’t about some petty rivalry. You’re reckless. You don’t think about the bigger picture. You only care about beating me, and it’s going to get someone hurt—probably you."

His words stung more than you expected. It wasn’t just that he thought you weren’t good enough. It was the way he said it, like he didn’t believe you’d ever be more than a threat to yourself.

"You think I don’t know what I’m doing?" you asked, your voice shaking with anger now. "You think I’m just some rookie who’s out of their depth?"

Max didn’t answer right away. He just stood there staring at you with those piercing blue eyes, like he was trying to figure you out but couldn’t. The silence stretched on heavy and suffocating.

Then, finally, he spoke. "I think you’re talented," he admitted, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. "But you let your emotions get the better of you. You take unnecessary risks because you’re trying to prove something."

His words cut deep, hitting a nerve you hadn’t expected. He wasn’t just criticising your driving anymore, he was questioning you, the way you handled everything. And what stung the most was that part of you feared he might be right.

You stood up, matching his stance refusing to show any weakness. "I don’t need a lecture from you Max. You’re not perfect either."

Max’s jaw tightened, and for a split second, you thought you saw something flicker across his face, hurt? But just as quickly it was gone, replaced by that familiar steely expression.

"Maybe I’m not," he said.

The room felt like it was closing in on you, the air thick with unresolved tension. You wanted to say something, anything, to break through the wall between you, but the anger and frustration clouded your thoughts, you could feel his gaze on your back as you walked out of the room. You slammed the door behind you, the sound echoing down the empty hallway.

Race Weekend 8 – Monaco Grand Prix

You and Max had barely spoken during practice, though the tension was undeniable. He still had that smug look on his face, his confidence oozing off him as you wiped the sweat from your forehead. You could feel your heart beating just a little faster, though you’d never admit it was anything but adrenaline.

As you sat down in the garage, peeling off your gloves, Max passed by.

"Not bad, rookie," he said casually. "Though, I almost expected you to spin out in Turn 4. You were practically kissing the barriers."

You raised an eyebrow, not willing to let him get the better of you. "Almost, huh? Shame you weren’t close enough to see the whole thing. Maybe you could have learned something."

He snorted, leaning against the wall next to you. "Oh, trust me, I got the best view. Though I’m still not sure if you're brave or just reckless."

You gave him a sideways glance smiling "Maybe I’m both."

Max's eyes lingered on you for a second longer than necessary, and you could feel the weight of it. He sat back in his chair, watching you, and the silence between you grew comfortable. You caught him glancing at you again, that smirk back in place, but this time it felt... different.

"You know," he said, voice teasing, "you should smile more often. You look less intimidating when you do."

You glanced up, confused for a second. "I’m not the one people are intimated by."

"Maybe not," he said, eyes glinting, "but you’ve got your own way of getting under people's skin."

"Well, I learned from the best," you shot back without missing a beat.

Max chuckled, shaking his head. "Touché."

Race Weekend 11 – Italian Grand Prix

As the season wore on, things began to shift slowly. You had found your rhythm, steadily improving race by race. You weren’t on Max’s level, not yet, but you were consistently finishing in the points, and at times, you had even managed to challenge him during practice or qualifying. But the dynamic between you remained strained. Max was still focused on his championship, and while the outright hostility had faded there was still an undeniable tension between the two of you.

The Italian Grand Prix was one of the most iconic races of the season. Monza, the Temple of Speed, with its long straights and tight corners it was a test of both car and driver. You had qualified fourth, but once again Max was on pole. It was becoming a frustrating pattern.

After qualifying you found yourself alone in the paddock, sitting on the steps outside the motorhome. You were replaying your lap in your head over and over, trying to figure out where you could have found more time.

“Still overthinking?” Max’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you looked up to see him standing a few feet away, his helmet under his arm.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Just trying to figure out how to be half a second faster.”

Max walked over, sitting down beside you on the steps. “You’re pushing too hard,” he said after a moment, his voice surprisingly soft. “You’re overdriving the car.”

You frowned, not sure if this was another dig or actual advice. “I’m trying to make up the gap.”

“You can’t drive like that here,” he continued, his eyes scanning the empty track. “You have to let the car come to you. If you keep forcing it, you’re going to keep making mistakes.”

You looked at him genuinely surprised. This was the first time he had offered anything resembling constructive advice. “Why are you telling me this?”

Max didn’t meet your gaze, instead looking out at the paddock. “Because I’ve been where you are. I know what it’s like to have everything to prove.”

You paused, his words sinking in. For the first time, you realised that Max wasn’t just being arrogant. He had been in your shoes once, the young driver trying to prove himself in a world that was constantly questioning if he was good enough, if he was ready.

“Thanks,” you said, your voice a little quieter than usual. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Max nodded, standing up and stretching. “Don’t get used to it,” he said with his familiar smirk. “I still want to beat you.”

You laughed, the tension between you easing just a little. “I’ll keep that in mind too.”

The race at Monza was chaotic as expected. The high-speed circuit, combined with the aggressive nature of the drivers made for a thrilling but nerve-wracking experience. Max was fighting for the win as usual, while you were locked in a battle in the top five.

In the closing laps you found yourself side by side with a McLaren, both of you fighting tooth and nail for fourth place. It was intense, wheel-to-wheel racing, and you could feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins. But Max’s earlier words echoed in your head. Don’t overdrive. Let the car come to you.

With a deep breath you backed off slightly, biding your time, waiting for the right moment. And when it came, you seized it, pulling off a clean overtake and securing fourth place. It wasn’t the podium you wanted, but it was solid result.

After the race you were exhausted, but satisfied. It wasn’t a win but it was a step in the right direction. As you walked back into the garage you caught Max’s eye. He didn’t say anything, but there was a subtle nod of acknowledgment. You had his respect even if he wasn’t going to say it out loud.

Race Weekend 13 - British Grand Prix

It was late in the evening, the team had thrown a small celebration after a particularly challenging but successful race for both of you. The atmosphere was relaxed, and after a few drinks you and Max found yourselves sitting together away from the others. The competitive edge was still there, but the rivalry was fading, replaced by something you couldn’t quite name.

You stretched out leaning back on your hands as the warm night air brushed against your skin. Max sat next to you, closer than usual, the dim light casting soft shadows across his face.

“Do you ever feel like it’s all... too much?” you asked suddenly, surprising even yourself with the question. You weren’t even sure why you asked it, but something about the late night and the quiet moment made you feel like maybe you could.

Max looked over at you, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he nodded slowly. “Sometimes. More than I admit to most people.”

The honesty in his voice caught you off guard. You turned to him, genuinely curious now. “Really? You always seem so in control...so unfazed.”

He gave a half-smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s all part of it, you know? The cameras, the pressure... you just get good at pretending.”

You looked at him for a moment, seeing past the champion exterior, catching a glimpse of something more vulnerable underneath. It was oddly comforting, knowing he wasn’t as untouchable as you’d thought.

“Well,” you said softly, “you’re pretty good at it. But for what it’s worth, I don’t think anyone’s really in control. Not out there.”

Max turned his head to look at you, his expression softer, more open than you’d ever seen before. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Maybe you’re right.”

There was a pause, his eyes lingered on yours, and you felt your heartbeat pick up. You quickly looked away feeling the tension crackle between you.

"Maybe you’re not quite as annoying as I first thought," you said with a light nudge, trying to break the tension with a small smirk.

Max laughed softly the sound low and surprisingly warm. "High praise coming from you."

But the way he looked at you in that moment made it clear that something had shifted between you. Neither of you said anything else for a while, just sitting there in the quiet night, side by side.

Race Weekend 14 - Dutch Grand Prix

You leaned against the railing of the team’s paddock area, the noise of celebration and chatter swirling around you. It was hard not to smile. You’d just finished in an easy second, your best race yet. It was a personal victory, a testament to all the hard work you’d put in.

But even with the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, a knot of conflicting emotions twisted in your stomach. You had to talk to Max.

As if he sensed your thoughts, you turned to see him walking toward you, a small grin on his face. It was a mix of confidence and camaraderie, and for the first time in a while, you felt less inclined to roll your eyes.

“Great race today,” he said, his tone genuine as he leaned against the railing beside you.

“Thanks,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “I actually thought I might’ve had a shot at you there.”

He chuckled softly, and you felt your heart flutter at the sound. “You were close. Just need to find a bit more speed in those corners, and you’ll be there.”

You took a deep breath, the earlier tension bubbling to the surface. “You know, it used to annoy me—how you carried yourself, like you were always one step ahead of everyone. Like it was your birth right to be where you are and no one else could catch you.”

Max raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by your honesty. “Yeah?"

You turned to face him, the excitement of the race fading into something more serious. “But now? I get it. You’ve worked your ass off to be the best. It’s not just about talent, it’s about everything you’ve sacrificed. I can see that now. I see it everyday”

He nodded slowly, and the atmosphere shifted between you. “It’s not easy, you know. When everyone expects you to win, and if you don’t, it feels like you’ve let them down.”

The vulnerability in his voice surprised you. It was a reminder that he was human too, grappling with expectations and pressure. “But you handle it all so well,” you said, meeting his gaze. “I respect that.”

A smile ghosted across his lips. “Thanks. That means a lot. I’ve noticed how hard you’ve been pushing yourself this season. It’s impressive.”

You felt warmth spread through your chest at his acknowledgment. “I’ve had to, I can’t just coast along. Not when you’re in the same garage.”

Max’s expression grew serious again. “I know I was... a bit frosty at the beginning. I guess I was too focused on myself to notice how much you were putting in. I don't want this to come across wrong... but it's your first season, and I didn’t want to give you any false hope thinking you could compete with me.”

You frowned slightly, you didn't want to dive into old wounds. “It’s okay. I get it.”

“No, it’s not okay,” he said, shaking his head. “You deserved better. I should have been more supportive. You pushed me too, you know? It’s hard to admit, but you’ve made me work harder, and I appreciate that.”

Your heart raced at his words. There was a sincerity in his tone that softened the rough edges of your previous encounters. You couldn’t help but feel a surge of gratitude mixed with disbelief.

“Really?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, really,” he replied. “You’ve improved more than I expected in such a short time. It takes guts to put yourself out there and challenge someone who’s been at the top for so long.”

The air between you was charged with a mix of emotions. You nodded, “Thanks for saying that Max. It means a lot to hear you acknowledge it.”

He shrugged, trying to downplay the moment, but the corners of his mouth quirked up. “Well, it’s true. Just don’t get too comfortable, I still plan on beating you.”

You laughed, feeling the tension dissipate. “Bring it on Verstappen. I’ll be ready.”

As you stood there, side by side, the competitive fire still smouldering between you, something shifted again—this time, the rivalry felt more like a partnership.

Race Weekend 16 – Azerbaijan Grand Prix

It was early morning Thursday, you and Max found yourselves sitting across from each other at breakfast, still somewhat groggy from travel. The team lounge was quiet, and the two of you were left alone at the table.

“You’re not gonna try and out-eat me too, are you?” Max asked, a teasing smile playing on his lips as he poked at his food.

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t need to out-eat you Max. I’ve already out-qualified you once.”

His eyes lit up in mock offence. “One time! You’re never going to let that go are you?”

“Not a chance,” you said with a grin, taking a bite of your toast. “I’m framing that lap time.”

He narrowed his eyes playfully. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you’re too easy to mess with,” you shot back. "Honestly, it's like a gift."

Max laughed, his genuine smile making your stomach flip in a way you couldn’t quite control. He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I’m just letting you win the mind games. Gotta keep you feeling confident somehow.”

“Oh, so you’re being generous now?” you quipped, raising an eyebrow.

“Always,” he replied with a wink.

The playful banter was natural now, a far cry from the sharp edges and constant tension that had defined your early relationship. There was still competition between you, but now it felt like something that pushed you both forward, rather than tearing you apart.

And as you exchanged another playful jab, you couldn’t help but notice the way both your eyes kept catching each other.

Race Weekend 17 – Singapore Grand Prix

The garage had emptied out, leaving behind only the quiet hum of cooling equipment and the faint clatter of distant tools. A rough race, nothing had gone the way you wanted.

Across the room Max was fiddling with his helmet, but you could tell he wasn’t focused on it. He glanced over at you, then slowly made his way to where you were sitting.

“You okay?” His voice was softer than usual.

You didn’t answer at first, still staring down at your hands trying to shrug off the defeat. “Yeah. Just... it wasn’t my day.”

Max nodded, his gaze steady. “It happens,” he said simply, but there was something in his tone that made you look up.

You sighed, the frustration bubbling over. “I know, but it feels different... I thought I was ready to take that next step the consistency was finally there…and then it just comes crashing back down.”

Max was quiet for a moment and when he spoke again there was a warmth in his voice. “This is a brutal track don't be too hard on yourself. You’ve been doing everything you can, I promise it shows.”

You looked at him, meeting his eyes. “It doesn’t feel like enough.”

Max’s gaze softened, and he took a step closer his hand brushing lightly against your arm. “Trust me, it is.”

The simple touch sent a jolt through you, something unspoken passing between you in that small, fleeting contact. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything Max moved even closer, and in a moment that felt both surprising and natural, he pulled you into a hug.

At first, you were too stunned to react. The sudden closeness, the warmth of his body against yours—it caught you off guard. But then you felt the solid weight of his arms around you, and you melted into the embrace, resting your head against his shoulder. His body was firm, steady, grounding you in a way that made the tension of the day seem to fade.

The hug wasn’t rushed, it lingered, the quiet between you filled with something heavier than words. But the feel of him, his arms around you, his breath steady against your temple was hard to ignore.

You weren’t sure if it was the exhaustion, the frustration, or something else entirely, but suddenly you were hyper-aware of every movement, the way his breath hitched slightly when you leaned into him, the subtle way his hand trailed down your back before settling again at your waist.

Max’s hands tightened slightly around you, his fingers brushing against the fabric of your shirt. You felt his chin rest lightly on top of your head, and there was something in the way his body pressed against yours that sent your pulse racing.

For a moment it was just the two of you, the rest of the world forgotten. You could feel his heartbeat, steady but strong, and the closeness between you felt almost electric. You weren’t sure who would pull away first, or if either of you even wanted to.

When you finally pulled back neither of you moved far, your faces still inches apart. His hands lingered at your waist, and your breath caught when you saw the way his eyes flickered, just briefly, to your lips.

Neither of you said anything, but the way his fingers flexed slightly against your waist, the subtle tilt of his head, made it clear that you both felt it.

Your heart was pounding, the space between you charged. You could see it in his eyes, the question, the pull, but he didn’t act on it. Instead, he gave you a small almost imperceptible smile before he finally let go.

“You’re going to be fine,” he said, his voice quieter than before.

“Yeah,” you managed, trying to ignore the way your body still hummed from the closeness. “I know.”

Race Weekend 18 - Qatar Grand Prix

It was one of those rare nights when the team wasn’t focused on race strategy or technical debriefs. After a relentless set of races, the team had gathered at a low-lit restaurant lounge for a relaxed evening. Laughter and conversation flowed freely around the long table, and for once the entire team seemed at ease.

You were sitting with a few people and one of the mechanics Adam, was regaling everyone with a wildly exaggerated story about a mishap during a pit stop in his rookie year.

Max was sitting a few seats away, engrossed in a discussion with some of the team, but his eyes kept darting over to you, his gaze narrowing slightly as he observed the scene. His shoulders were tense, and the easygoing expression he’d worn earlier in the evening was replaced by something more guarded. It wasn’t like Max to be this quiet at team gatherings, and you were too distracted to notice at first, focused instead on Adam's ongoing tale.

But the shift in atmosphere caught your attention eventually. As you laughed at another one of Adam's jokes you glanced over to find Max staring your way, his jaw set. He quickly looked away, and downed the rest of his drink in one swift motion.

Curious, you turned back to Adam, who was obliviously leaning in a little closer still chuckling at his own story. And then Max was suddenly standing up, making his way around the table and pulling up a chair directly beside you, a smile plastered on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hey,” Max greeted, his smile a little forced but convincing enough. “What’s going on over here then? Everyone seems to be having fun.”

Adam grinned and gave him a friendly nod. “Just telling some old war stories. You know how it is.”

“Oh, I bet,” Max replied.

You noticed it right away, especially the way he seemed intent on steering the conversation. “Adam was just telling me about his first-ever pit stop disaster,” you explained still smiling. “It’s been quite entertaining.”

“I’m sure it has,” Max said, but his gaze flickered to Adam again something unreadable in his eyes.

Adam glanced between the two of you, sensing the shift, and gave you a friendly smile before excusing himself to join another group. You watched him go, then turned back to Max noticing the tension still in his jaw.

“So, you came all the way over here to save me from pit lane stories?” you questioned.

Max shrugged, his expression casual. “I just didn’t want you to get bored. Thought you might appreciate something a bit more... entertaining.”

You turned to look at him, amused. “Uh-huh, or maybe you just didn’t want to be left out of the conversation.”

“Maybe. But I was doing you a favour, trust me. You’d have heard all of Adam’s best stories in the first five minutes.” He rolled his eyes.

"Seriously, what’s up?" you asked, genuinely confused by his behaviour.

Max didn’t respond immediately, instead glancing around the table, making sure no one was listening too closely before he spoke. "Nothing. Just... noticed you were getting along pretty well with Adam. I didn’t think he was was your type.”

You blinked, surprised by the unexpected comment. “Oh?” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “And what makes you think you know my type?”

Max shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “Just an observation,” he said.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Is that so? And what exactly do you think my type is Max?”

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t know." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping lower. “I'd guess someone who doesn’t just talk big but can actually back it up. You know, a real challenge.”

You felt a flicker of heat rush through you at his words, the playful banter quickly taking on a different tone. “A challenge, huh?” you teased. “Funny, I don’t remember you being all that interested in challenges off the track.”

Max's grin widened, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I guess you’ve been paying attention to the wrong things then.”

Your breath faltered, and for a second you wondered if he was going to say something else, if he was going to push this conversation into territory you hadn’t quite prepared for. But then, just as quickly as it started Max leaned back, breaking the moment with a light laugh.

“Don’t overthink it,” he teased with a grin. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

You laughed lightly, shaking your head at his familiar cockiness. “You’re impossible.”

Max just grinned wider. “That's what they tell me.”

For a few minutes you fell into an easy rhythm of teasing each other, the tension from earlier fading completely. Max shifted closer, his knee brushing against yours under the table.

“So, what are you going to do for the break?” he asked, his gaze lingering on your face.

You shrugged, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach at the way he was looking at you. “Probably just spend some time with family, maybe catch up on some sleep. What about you?”

“Hmm, I’m not sure yet,” he said thoughtfully. “Might go back to Monaco, or maybe not. Depends.”

“Depends on what?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Max met your gaze, his expression unreadable for a moment. “Depends on if there’s anything... interesting keeping me around.”

There was a challenge in his eyes that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Or, maybe I’ll just catch up on sleep too,” he added with a wink, steering the conversation back into safer territory.

And before you could respond he reached out for his drink, his hand brushing yours briefly in a way that felt almost accidental. But the touch lingered, the heat of his skin against yours sending a jolt of awareness through you. Your eyes met again, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away, the noise of the restaurant, the people around you. It was just you and Max, the world narrowing down to that single point of contact.

Race Weekend 20 – US Grand Prix

The Padel court was quiet, bathed in the late afternoon sun as you and Max stood on opposite sides of the net. This was meant to be a fun break from the track to let off some steam, but the second you both picked up your paddles it became clear neither of you were about to take it easy.

He’d been chirping at you since you got here, claiming he was going to wipe the floor with you. But you’d heard that song before.

"You sure you’re ready for this?" Max called from the other side of the net, casually tossing the ball up and catching it, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "I mean, you can still back out. No shame in admitting defeat early."

You gave him a deadpan look, adjusting your grip on the paddle. "You talk way too much for someone who’s about to lose."

Max rested against his paddle, flashing that familiar smirk. "I’m just letting you believe you have a chance. Keeps things interesting."

You served the ball with a sharp flick of your wrist, sending it careening over the net. Max responded quickly, returning it with ease. The ball bounced between you, a quick exchange of volleys. His movements were swift, confident, but you weren’t about to let him get the upper hand so easily.

"Nice try," Max said after you missed a ball that bounced just out of reach. "You almost looked like you knew what you were doing there."

"Careful Verstappen," you shot back, repositioning yourself for the next rally. "I’m just warming up."

Max laughed, shaking his head. "If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re getting frustrated."

"I don’t get frustrated," you countered, serving the ball again, aiming straight for his side.

"Oh, you definitely do." He easily returned it, the smirk on his face only growing as you both rallied.

You grinned, already feeling the familiar rush of competition surging through you. This wasn’t racing, but it had the same energy—the need to outmanoeuvre, outthink, outplay. And if there was one thing you and Max did well it was push each other’s limits.

"You're really going to make me run for it, huh?" Max panted as he lunged to return a low ball, his paddle barely grazing it.

You smirked. "Wouldn't want you to get too comfortable."

After a particularly long rally, you smashed a shot just out of his reach, winning the point. Max groaned throwing his head back dramatically. "Unbelievable."

You pumped your fist, grinning from ear to ear. "And that’s how it’s done."

"Okay, okay," he wheezed, though his eyes were still bright with amusement. "I’ll give you that one. But don’t think I’m letting you win."

"Letting me win?" you repeated, wiping the sweat from your brow. "That’s cute Max."

Max walked to the net, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "Alright, you got lucky. One point, I’ll give you that."

"One point?" you scoffed, meeting him at the net. "Try four."

"Technicalities," he muttered, but the grin on his face betrayed his playful frustration. He watched you with a glint in his eye. "You know, you’re a lot better at this than I thought."

"Coming from you that means so much." you said dryly.

Max chuckled, his gaze still lingering on you. There was a moment of quiet, the sun casting long shadows on the court, the air between you thick with a kind of unspoken understanding.

"You’re not so bad yourself," you added, breaking the silence but not the tension. "For a guy who spends most of his free time gaming."

Max raised an eyebrow laughing again. "That supposed to be a compliment?"

You shrugged. "Take it however you want."

His grinned. "I think I’ll take it as a compliment."

Before you could reply, he stepped back, tossing the ball in the air. "Alright, rematch. Best two out of three. I’m not letting you walk away with that win."

"You just can’t handle losing to me can you?" you teased, taking your position, ready for another round. "I’m starting to think you just like seeing me sweat."

He chuckled, but the way his eyes lingered on you for a beat longer said more than his words did. "You’re not wrong."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, but there was no denying the subtle shift in the air. It wasn’t obvious or overt, but the dynamic between you had changed in the last few weeks. The teasing was still there, but there was a different kind of energy between you now, one that neither of you had quite acknowledged yet.

You cleared your throat, stepping back and spinning the ball in your hand. "Let’s finish this then. I’ve got a winning streak to keep."

Max’s grin returned, but it was softer now, less competitive and more… something else. "We’ll see about that."

Race Weekend 22 – Brazil Grand Prix

On race day, the tension was palpable. The roar of engines, the smell of burning rubber, and the hum of adrenaline filled the air. Max was standing next to his car helmet in hand, the pre-race jitters barely showing on his face. You caught his eye from across the garage, and for a moment, the world seemed to quiet around you.

You approached, trying to shake off the strange tension that always seemed to linger between the two of you lately. Max’s gaze met yours, steady but with an intensity that made your breath catch for just a second.

“Ready to lose today?” you asked, trying to keep things light, but your voice sounded a little shakier than you’d intended.

Max smirked, stepping closer than necessary. “In your dreams.”

You tried to roll your eyes, but the proximity made it hard to focus. There was a heat in his gaze and you found yourself holding your breath for a moment.

“Don’t get too cocky Verstappen,” you muttered, the playful tone masking the way your pulse raced.

He leaned in just close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. “I think that’s your job now.”

For a second, it felt like everything had stopped—the noise, the chaos of the track, all fading into the background. But just as quickly the moment passed, and Max stepped back sliding his helmet on.

“See you at the finish line,” he said over his shoulder.

You stood there for a second longer trying to steady your breath, knowing that this race and whatever was happening between you two was far from over.

End of the Season – Abu Dhabi Grand Prix

The season had been a rollercoaster filled with highs and lows. You had stood on the podium for the first time in Canada, a moment that felt surreal after all the hard work. But there had also been heartbreak, a crash in Austria that had cost you valuable points, a mechanical failure in Mexico that had seen you retire from a race where you could have scored big.

Through it all your relationship with Max had continued to evolve. You still raced on track, fighting for every inch of tarmac, but off the track things had changed. There was mutual respect, an understanding that had grown over the course of the season. The animosity that had once defined your relationship was gone, replaced by something more complicated.

The Abu Dhabi Grand Prix was the final race of the season, and the championship was on the line. Max was in a tight battle for the title, and the pressure on both of you was immense.

The night before the race you found Max sitting alone in the team motorhome, staring out at the glowing lights of the Yas Marina Circuit. He looked unusually quiet, his usual air of confidence tempered by the gravity of the situation.

“You ready for tomorrow?” you asked, leaning against the doorway.

Max didn’t look at you, his eyes still focused on the track outside. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

You stepped inside, sitting down across from him*. “You’re going to win it.”*

Max finally turned to face you, a small, almost tired smile on his face. “You sound pretty sure of that.”

“I’ve watched you all season. No one’s better than you out there,” you said simply, meaning every word.

Max shook his head, letting out a short laugh. “You’re not so bad yourself you know.”

You raised an eyebrow.

He shrugged, a playful glint in his eye. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

You had fought hard to get to this point, and though Max was still your fiercest competition, he was also the one person who, you now realised, might understand you better than anyone else.

Abu Dhabi Grand Prix – Race Day

Race day was electric, the air crackling with anticipation. The championship battle had come down to this — the final race of the season, and everything was on the line. Max was in contention for the title, but his rival wasn’t far behind. Every lap, every pit stop, every decision mattered.

You were focused on your own race, but there was an underlying pressure you couldn’t ignore. Max needed you to perform today. If you could help him by holding off the cars behind, or making sure the team strategy worked in his favour, you would.

The race itself was a blur. The car felt good and you pushed hard, determined to finish the year on a high.

As the laps ticked down, the tension in the pit lane grew. Max was leading, but his rival was closing in behind you, and the team was on a knifes-edge. Then, with just a few laps to go, you got the call from your engineer.

“We need you to hold position, keep the cars behind you. Max needs this.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. It wasn’t the call you wanted to hear, but you understood. This was the team game. You weren’t fighting for the championship, but Max was.

“Got it,” you replied, gritting your teeth as you focused on the task ahead.

For the next few laps, you fought with everything you had to keep the cars behind you, giving Max the breathing room he needed. It was arguably the hardest race of your life, the pressure almost unbearable. But when the checkered flag finally fell, you had done it.

Max crossed the line first, securing the championship, and you finished in a solid second place.

The roar of the crowd was deafening, fireworks lighting up the sky as Max stood on the podium, the World Champion once again. You watched him celebrate, a mixture of pride and satisfaction swelling in your chest. You hadn’t won, but in a way you had still achieved something important. You had proven that you could compete at this level, that you could stand with the best.

Later that night, after all the celebrations had died down you found Max sitting alone in the quiet garage, his championship trophy resting beside him.

“Not partying with the team?” you asked.

Max looked up, his face still glowing with the satisfaction of victory. “Needed a minute,” he said, his voice soft.

You stepped inside, sitting down beside him. “You did it,” you said, a small smile on your lips.

Max glanced at you, his blue eyes filled with something deeper than just the thrill of winning. “We did it,” he corrected, his voice sincere.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of the season, the challenges you had both faced, the fights on and off the track — it all hung in the air between you. But there was no tension now, no rivalry. Just understanding.

“You really helped me today,” Max said after a while, his voice quiet but firm. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

You shrugged, trying to play it off, but his words meant more to you than you’d expected. “Just doing my job.”

Max chuckled, shaking his head. “You did more than that.”

You turned to face him fully, your knees brushing against his, the closeness between you suddenly palpable. His eyes were on you, and the look he gave you sent a shiver down your spine.

You met his gaze smiling, the two of you had been through so much together, and now, sitting in the quiet aftermath of victory, it felt like the beginning of something new.

But then the playful smile faded, replaced by a more intense expression. His gaze flickered, dropping to your lips for just a fraction of a second, but it was enough to send your heart racing.

The space between you seemed to shrink. You felt your breath hitch as Max shifted closer, the warmth of his body brushing against yours. His hand moved, almost hesitantly, to your arm, his fingers grazing your skin in a way that made every nerve in your body stand on end.

You could feel it now, the weight of everything unsaid, everything that had built up over the season, all the unspoken moments between you. It was all right there, in the way his hand lingered on your arm, the way his breath caught as his eyes met yours again, more intensely this time.

“You’re not bad at this whole teammate thing,” Max murmured, his voice low.

You rolled your eyes, but the banter was thin now, the words barely a distraction from the way your heart was pounding in your chest. “I guess you're not so bad yourself.”

Max’s smile faded again, his gaze serious, and for a moment, everything else fell away. The garage, the race, the entire championship, none of it mattered. It was just the two of you, sitting there in the quiet.

And then, before you could even process what was happening, Max leaned in.

It was slow at first, as if he was giving you time to pull away, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. His lips hovered just above yours, the space between you almost unbearable, and then finally he closed the distance.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but it didn’t stay that way for long. There was too much between you for it to be gentle. His hand came up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, and you felt your body respond, your heart pounding in your ears.

It wasn’t a kiss born out of victory or celebration. It was something else, something more intense, like all the tension, the rivalry, the unspoken moments between you had finally come to a head. It was raw, charged, and for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning around you.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, Max’s forehead rested against yours, his eyes still closed as he let out a shaky breath.

Neither of you spoke for a long moment. There was a shift now, something irrevocable between you, but it felt right. Like this was where you were always meant to end up.

“You know,” Max murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, “Next year’s going to be interesting.”

You let out a breathless laugh, still trying to catch your breath. “You have no idea.” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder. “Next year, I’m coming for you.”

Max grinned. “I’d like to see you try.”

And as you sat there, still wrapped up in each other you couldn’t help but smile. The season may have ended, but the story between you and Max was far from over.

[missnxthingg]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 - 𝑂𝑁𝐸

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 - Lando Norris x Single Mom!Reader (Best friends to lovers) 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 - Lando and Y/N have always been the best of friends, always there for each other through thick and thin. After years of sharing the paddock and building their own silly little family, both of them just can't hold their feelings inside anymore, even though they're are both afraid it would ruin their friendship. So who'll take the first step? 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 - 4.1 K | 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 - None (so far) 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 - All chapters come with a social media version. Click bellow and find more about this story!

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“My hair is absolutely fine”, Lando complained. He had just woken up from his usual nap before the race and would’ve much rather have used the past five minutes sleeping then getting his hair fixed. Y/N ignored his whining and kept fixing his curls, making sure they fell perfectly into place. “Y/N, I'm literally putting on a helmet five minutes from now”.

“Shut up”, she furrowed her eyebrows and kept herself concentrated on his hair. “You’re gonna look perfect for the pictures before getting in the car with this hair”.

“Y/N L/N, full-time groomer, part-time comms girl”, he joked, making her open a small grin. It’s always nice to have small moments like those in the middle of all the mayhem that is the Formula 1 paddock, specially after so many years knowing each other. Lando and Y/N always found a way to make it even more fun by being there together.

“My job is to get the best image of you out there”, she dusted off his shoulders and winked at him. “Excited to be back?”

“Very”, he smiled at her. “Missed me over the winter?”

“Haven’t had the chance to miss you since you insist on us having a friendship outside work and keeps stopping by my house all the damn time”, she joked, pulling him to walk along with her. “Also, have you forgotten the headache you’ve given me on New Year’s Day?”

Lando went to Bali with his friends on the New Year’s and ended up partying a little too hard, which resulted in Y/N having to work all day as everyone else was enjoying their holiday. She had to stay at her hotel room all day in reunion with his PR team, trying to come up with solutions to his mess. When he found out, he even paid her dinner to apologize for the mess he made.

“I already said I was sorry”, Lando nudged her away with his elbow, making Y/N giggle. Then she toughened up and rolled his eyes at him. They soon were inside the McLaren garage, almost ready to start the first race of the year.

“You can apologize properly by doing great today”, she helped him close his suit, feeling his gaze burning on her face. Lando lowered his sight to pay attention to his friend, making her whole body tingle just with the looks.

“I'll try my best”, he shrugged. And Y/N knew that he was going to be good anyway, even if he didn’t really believe in himself. Lando had done great all weekend, so she knew he was also going to do great on track. She was known to have a sense of when her best friend was going to do good on the race, and today was one of those days. She just didn’t tell him.

It’s been like this since the very first moment they met. Lando and Y/N got to know each other when he was still in Formula 2, but already looking into enrolling in Formula 1 with McLaren. She had just got an internship at the team, working in communications, focused on their social media, and was starting to get into the motorsports world as she worked her way through a degree in college. Lando was also building his career, starting as a test driver and growing into a rookie. With both of them being new into this world, being friends made this entire experience less lonely.

“All good?”, she asked, opening a comforting smile at him to make sure Lando was cheerful enough to kick off the season. 

“Does my hair look good for the balaclava?”, he joked as he took his last pieces of fireproofs to wear. Y/N rolled her eyes and nudged him away. “Yes, curly king”, she giggled, earning a quick hug from the boy, who was now ready to get into the car. He sneaked a tiny kiss on her cheek and buried his nose on her neck. “Good luck, champ”.

“Thank you”, he winked at her, walking towards his engineers to have a quick chat before the race.

Y/N’s job was basically on hold for the rest of the race. She already knew the procedures of the media pen after the race, so all she had to do was wait and cheer for her team. It felt good to be back on track, and beginnings of seasons always give her a little bit more of power to do her job. And Bahrain was a solid start for McLaren, with both Lando and Oscar finishing above P6, getting good points for the team. 

“I knew you were going to do good”, Y/N commented when she saw Lando walking towards her; his suit already hanging low on his hips and with a tired smile on his face after he finished the countless post race interviews. He wrapped his arms softly around his friend as he stole her bottle of water. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you”, he held her a little tighter and immediately felt relaxed next to her. For years, Y/N has been the calm after the storm for Lando. “Tired?”

“Not really. Just a little bit”, she shrugged, as they walked back together to the McLaren motorhome, ready to get her things and walk away from the paddock.

“Want to grab something to eat before heading back to the hotel? I’m starving, and I really could use some time without talking to anyone but you”, he giggled, knowing his best friend knew how to respect his silence when he needed. Also, they had been working non-stop together for the past month, without a single time to just enjoy their time together. It would be nice to do absolute nothing next to each other.

“Oh, I’m heading back to London tonight. I have to be at the airport in… two hours”, she said, looking at her watch with a sad smile. “Little one needs me. She has a ballet presentation tomorrow, and I have to be there for her”.

“Of course”, Lando said, feeling the endearment on his chest with her words. “Ollie has the best mom in the world. She’s the luckiest little girl”.

Y/N got pregnant shortly after she started her second year in Formula 1, after being very careless with a college boyfriend, who took off the second he found out they were having a baby, only helping financially every month, but not being there to help her with anything. On the first years, when she was mostly required to be in England, it worked. But now that she grew on her job and was asked to travel the entire world, it was getting harder and harder to stay away from her daughter. So she always comes for the weekend and goes back home as soon as she can.

“You’re heading back to England tomorrow for the post-race debrief, right? You should come have dinner with us after the ballet presentation”, Y/N suggested.

“Am I banned from going to the ballet as well?”, Lando arched his brows, making Y/N's cheeks heat up.

“I mean, I thought it would be quite boring for you”, she shrugged, making Norris laugh.

“Are you joking? Olivia can never be boring. I always want to see her, especially on nice days like these”, he said. “I'll be there. And then I'll take you to her favourite restaurant”.

“She’s four, Lando. Her favourite restaurant is McDonald's”, Y/N rolled her eyes, but he shrugged.

“McDonald's it is!”, he giggled. “I'll see you tomorrow. Have a safe trip back home”.

“You too, Lan”, he pulled her for another quick hug and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

Lando has been there for Olivia since before she was born. After her boyfriend took off, Y/N was left pregnant, completely scared for her future. She didn’t know how to keep doing her job and her studies. Norris was the one who stuck by her side, did everything in his power to not get her fired, or not to quit her job, and pushed her to keep going with her education. He was there to take her to doctor's appointments whenever he could, and he was there to hold her hand when the time came. Lando was one of the first people who ever had the opportunity to hold Ollie in the arms. And for everything he did for both girls, he immediately became the little baby’s godfather. There was no one else in this world Y/N trusted more.

She has been more than special in his life as well. Y/N understood him better than anyone, and was his home away from home. She made him laugh, and she made sure that he felt comfortable, loved and happy all the time. And if things weren’t alright, having her support always made things better. So before she left, Lando took one last glance at his best friend and thought: “How lucky I am to have her in my life”. But he kept that thought to himself, trying hard not to think too much into it. Deep down, he knew there was something more on the way his heart raced every time he looked at her.

For the next day, Lando felt anxious to finally get home and be with his tiny second family. He hasn’t seen his goddaughter since the pre-season started and was looking forward to being in her presence again. It was his favourite way to relax after a full weekend, being with the people he loved the most in the world. So it felt good once the meeting at McLaren back in Woking was over, which meant that now he could go to the ballet presentation and be with his girls.

He arrived at least twenty minutes before the presentation started and found Y/N among the crowd, sitting right in the front, using her Instagram as a pastime to wait until Olivia was on stage. She updated her social media with a few shots from the weekend in Bahrain before she was pulled out of her thoughts by Lando, who found his spot next to his best friend.

“Hello”, he greeted with a beautiful smile on his face. Norris was wearing an all-black outfit, trying not to catch much attention to his presence, not wanting to deal with the public eye in such an intimate moment between family. “Am I late?”

“No, don’t worry”, she smiled softly at him. “Ollie will on go on stage in a few moments, so you’re fine”.

“Good. I’m glad to be here”, he elbowed his friend and got comfortable next to her. “How was your flight back home?”

“It was fine, a bit tiring. I got home just in time to have some breakfast and get Olivia ready to go to school. My mom drove her and I knocked out on the couch until lunch. Then I got her from school, we had lunch at a restaurant, and then I took her home to get our ballerina ready”.

“Cute”, his cheeks tinted in a pretty pink shade. “At least one of us had some proper sleep. I woke up at four, then flew here and went straight into MTC. I got changed there, had a nap, and now I’m here”.

“You should’ve gone home to rest, Lando…”, she started, but he cut her through her sentence.

“I told you I wanted to be here. I always want to be here for Ollie’s big days, you know that”, he assured, and Y/N knew he was telling the truth. After all, he has always been there for her daughter, coming to see her whenever he could, never forgetting to get her gifts on Christmas and birthdays, always calling to make sure his goddaughter knew how much she was loved by him. Lando cared about Olivia as if she was his own daughter.

“I know”, she smiled, searching for his hand in the darkness of the room to give it a squeeze. “You’ve always been here for her big days. But I worry about your health”.

“Oh, shut up”, he laughed. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me”.

Then Y/N noticed that Lando was holding flowers in his hands, and her heart immediately felt full at the sight. He definitely is a treasure in her daughter’s life. 

“You brought her a bouquet?”, she commented, making her friend blush with the comment. “Oh my God, that’s so cute!”

“Of course I did! She deserves it”, he smiled, pulling the bouquet to show it to Y/N. “Do you think she’ll like the daisies? I thought roses were too boring and Ollie is never boring”.

“Obviously. She loves everything you give her”, she giggled, finishing just before the music started and the presentation began. 

Y/N obviously cried to see her daughter dancing beautifully on stage, knowing she was on the right path to provide the best life for her little girl. But her heart actually melted to see Lando’s smile as he sat next to her, admiring Olivia’s movements with a hug smile on his face. 

“She’s really good”, he commented, not tearing his eyes away from the girl. “Look at her, wow!”

Y/N threw her arms around him and snuggled close to his body, hugging him from the side. She just couldn’t contain her happiness by him being there for her family. Lando only tore his eyes away from Ollie to look at his best friend for a second. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and rested a hand on her knee. That was his way to tell her that she was doing a good job.

After the presentation was over, the duo went backstage to pick Olivia to go out for dinner. The little girl was still dressed in her ballerina attire, now with a huge smile on her face as she ran excitedly towards them. But there was only one person she had her eyes for.

“Uncle Lando!”, she shouted, rushing her pace to him, who squatted to hug her. Norris waited for the impact and relaxed once he felt her tiny arms wrapped around his neck. “You came!”

“Of course I came! I wouldn’t miss the best ballerina in town doing her beautiful performance on stage”, he leaned back to look her in the face, the smile never faltering from his face. “You look so beautiful, wow. I’m so proud of you!”

“Thank you”, Ollie giggled, her tiny hands landing on his cheeks, making his smile even wider. Then he pulled the bouquet in his hands and showed it to the girl, who sparkled her eyes at the sight of the flowers. 

“These are for you”, he said, and Ollie quickly wrapped her hands around the bouquet, pulling them closer to her face to smell it. She started jumping in excitement before pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Oh, that’s nice”.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”, Olivia said. “I love you, uncle Lando”.

“I love you too, baby”, he declared before picking her up from the floor, walking towards Y/N, whose eyes were welled up with tears from watching the interaction between them. He whipped it off with one of his thumbs before pulling his best friend for a group hug.

“Why are you crying, mummy?”, Olivia asked, her cheeks pressed between Lando and Y/N’s body. 

“Oh, it’s because you look so beautiful. I’m so proud!”, she giggled. “These are happy tears, I promise”.

“I love you too, mummy. Just as much as I love uncle Lando”, the girl declared, making Lando’s heart warm up with the comment.

“I love you too, Ollie”, Y/N pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “Are you hungry, baby? Uncle Lando is taking us for dinner”.

“And you get to choose where”, he smirked, making Olivia even more excited with the proposition. 

“McDonald’s!”, she shouted, making Lando laugh. Then he looked at Y/N, who had that ‘I told you so’ look on her face. “I want a burger, nuggies, fries and ice cream. Oh, and the little toy”.

“Your wish is my command”.

Lando always bent over backwards to see Olivia smile. He bought everything she wished to eat, and she was stuffed with goodies that made her belly warm. Then she filled him in with everything that was going on in her life, making Y/N sit back, eat her burger, and admire the interaction between them. He had been helping her with food as he listened carefully to every single world she was saying. It was good to have someone else taking care of her, lifting the weight off her shoulders for a second. By the time they were done, Norris held both of his girls' hands and walked to his car, ready to go home with them.

Olivia fell asleep on the way home as they had a very quiet ride, only listening to some of Lando’s chill music. Then he helped carry her inside when they arrived, as Y/N opened the door and got her daughter’s bed ready for the night. She changed the little girl’s clothes and tucked her in bed, not forgetting her signature forehead kiss before leaving. Norris watched it from the door with a tender smile on his face. He pulled his friend by the elbow, engulfing her in a comforting, long hug. 

In the quietness of her house, everything felt perfectly into place. Lando rarely gets those moments alone with his best friend when they are rushing around the paddock. So whenever he sees the opportunity, he takes it. And they stood there, holding each other for a few minutes until he pulled Y/N out of the room. She takes care of both him and Olivia all the time. It’s only fair that he took care of her sometimes.

Norris sat her down on the couch and quickly picked a few items from her room, such as a soft blanket, along with some skincare to take off her makeup and make her relax. Then he sat next to her and patted his lap, just so she could lie down and rest. Lando softly ran wipes across her face, removing her make up before putting a relaxing face mask on her skin. Then he massaged her scalp as she sighed in comfort, enjoying every second of that treatment. He finished the skincare with moisturizer and a little kiss on her forehead, making her smile.

“I don’t deserve you”, she commented as Lando blushed. “Seriously, Ollie and I are so lucky to have you in our lives”.

“I’m just taking care of the people that I love”, he shrugged. “Do you want some tea?”

“I want some wine”, she giggled, making him tag along. “I think there’s a bottle in the fridge and the glasses are still in the same place”.

Lando shot up from his seat, but quickly came back with the bottle, an opener and two glasses. He wasn’t someone to drink much, but he would never refuse this bonding time with his best friend. Still, he poured just a little in his glass before toasting with Y/N.

“God, I’m so tired”, she vented. “I can't sleep when I'm away from Ollie”.

“I know”, he squeezed her knee and Y/N leaned her head into his shoulder. “It sucks having to be away all the time. But I promise you’re doing great in this parenting thing”.

“If you think so”, she shrugged. Most times, Y/N second-guesses herself, wondering if she was being a good mother by leaving her child every other week with their grandmother, only to travel to another country. But she knew that was the only way to provide Ollie with the best life she could have; after all, the salary is very good.

“I know it”, Lando assures. “Olivia is the sweetest kid of all time. She’s kind, funny, very talented and polite. And she absolutely loves you, because you are the best mother in the world”.

“Thanks, Lan”, she smiled at him. “I’m glad she has someone like you in her life. I’m glad to have someone like you in mine”.

“I’ll always be here for you and Ollie, you know that. I’ll take care of you both until the end of my days”, he promised, pulling his best friend for a quick kiss on the crown of her head. “And in the end, everything is worth it, right?”

“Olivia is always worth it”, she assured him, opening the biggest smile. “She’s everything to me. And it’s crazy how much someone can mean to you. But I guess motherhood is always like this”.

“I can’t wait to be a dad. I know I’m going to love it just as much as being a godfather”, he said. “You’re going to enjoy being a godmother someday too”.

“I will be the proudest auntie in the world! Your kid will love me because I’ll pamper them with all the love I can give”.

Deep down, Lando knew he didn’t want Y/N to be the godmother of his children. He has known for a while that he wanted her to be their mother; to be the one he raised a family with through the years. He was very happy whenever he was with her and Olivia, loving more than anything that little family he built with his best friend, so he wanted that to grow even more, maybe with some children of their own.

But confessing his feeling for Y/N tonight, or any night in the near future, wasn’t in Lando’s plans. He would rather just enjoy this little family without taking the risk of losing it for unrequited love. After all, if it didn’t work out, he loses both of the loves of his life.

“Are you staying the night?”, she broke the silence after a few minutes just listening to the sound of television, as they finished their wine together.

“Of course. Did you think I was going to pass the opportunity of cuddling with you?”, he frowned. “I was pissed when McLaren didn’t book us at the same hotel, so I could have an excuse to sneak into your room”.

“Well, you’re the famous driver, McLaren golden boy. I’m just the comms girl. Not all of us can stay at swanky hotels”.

“You deserve the swankiest of them”, Lando said, making Y/N flustered with his comment.. “Come on, you barely can keep your eyes opened. Let’s go to bed”.

He swiped her off her feet and carried her to the bedroom as she tried to laugh quietly to not wake Olivia up. Lando threw her in the mattress as he laughed along, but immediately went into ‘take care mode’ when they were inside those four walls. He chose a comfortable pyjama for Y/N and picked some of his clothes, which he conventionally left in her house for nights like these, then went into her bathroom so they could have some privacy to change.

After they were both dress, Lando hopped into bed too and quickly found his favourite spot: his head resting on her chest, with his arms engulfing her in the most comfortable hug. He felt the tiredness of the weekend crash his body, but he felt relaxed to be in his favourite girl’s arms.

“Does Ollie have school tomorrow?”, he asked, feeling Y/N nod, even with her eyes closed.

“She does, I have to be up very early tomorrow”, she groaned, already feeling too lazy to wake up early tomorrow. 

 “I can take her to school, don’t worry”, he said, wanting to take this weight off Y/N’s back. After all, he could very much take care of Olivia for her, as he had done countless times before. “And then after classes, we can all do something fun, like going to a park or something. Maybe I can take her to a toyshop and she can buy anything that she wants”.

“Don’t spoil my child too much. I don’t want her to grow as a spoiled kid. You’ll ruin her!”

“I will”, he giggled. “But Olivia deserves everything in the world and more”.

They fell quiet for a moment, and Lando was sure that Y/N had already fallen asleep. That until her fingers rolled in his curls, making him hum in satisfaction. He wanted that feeling for the rest of his life. He wanted to sleep next to her every night until the end of days.

And then came the three words he always adored hearing from her.

“I love you, Lan”, she mumbled. “Thank you for being the best friend one could ever wish for”.

Even after being friend zoned, Lando didn’t care about anything else, feeling his chest burning in adoration for his favourite girl. “I love you too, baby”, he whispered back, his words carrying more than he actually wanted to mean. 

⋘ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 // 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ⋙

𝒔𝒐𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝒎𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒂 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 . 𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 - @celestialams @kapsylia @igotnorrrizz @hiireadstuff @bishhhitsaurion @mrsmaybank13 @bborra @sltwins @riccdannyf1 @67-angelofthelordme-67 @ctrlyomomma @lan4cha16 @alltoomaples @ellen3101 @hellyesjaehyun @tastebaldwin @sweate-r-weathe-r @carmenita122 @m0cha-bunny @lqvesoph @itscrzy @fangirlvibez @poppyflower-22 @livelovesports @logischeroktopus @happy-jj @saturnbloom77 @formulaal @secretgal66 @taisferrari-blog @sunsshinesunny @eclipsedcherry @tems13 @readingbringsjoy @timmispeach @kenzeyeballs @alilcloudy @rchitect-2015 @tillyt04 @eringaitskill @Honeyhatty12 @dreamercrowd @demig0d0fapollo @mxmtewnz @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @beyond-the-ashes @ijustgomessitupx @floraav @laiba26mindflay3r @marialovesf1 @sltwins @lizaschronicles @katieschry1 @loveofmylife12 @diaa-20 @urfavsgf @likedbygaslyy @notturlover @c-losur3 @brizzy-xo @gorgrussell @ellasaddiction2 @morketheduck @kravitzwhore @darkacademicvibes @jenna123456789 @crispymcniall @arsyao @phantomxoxo @noobmaster6931 @ohlahlaa @c0rpsecore @rafegirly @darleneslane @annalisenelson @nataliambc @amorydsmt @slytherinholland @hstylesmermaid @harrysdimples05 @xxbaby-dollxx @neilakk @xxx-betty

[formulamar]

she’s a ferrari - pt 2

charles leclerc x yn!ferrari

fc: Addison Rae

summary: as a child, the great-grand daughter of Enzo Ferrari used to spend her weekends hanging around the paddock. but once she went off to university her appearances became rare. what happens when she starts working for Ferrari? and... one of the drivers steals her heart.

READ PART ONE HERE

November 2023

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liked by scunteriafer and 5,209 others

rumorhasitf1: 🚨 RUMORHASITF1 🚨

YN Ferrari stuns for Donne al Potere, an Italian magazine. The interview discusses her plans to work in the motorsport industry after graduating university. It appears Miss Ferrari will be working to develop a female motorsport program 👀 presumably with Ferrari. Additionally, she delves into her passion for motorsport and how it has evolved over the years. The photoshoot took place the weekend of the Austin Grand Prix. Read here: www.donnaalpotere/numerodinovembreynferrari.com

721 comments

ln4s: she is the only woman ever

f1fan6: CAN CHARLES FIGHT

-> f1fan05: unfortunately he can 🙁

lordpercevalfan: I'm sure she's an amazing engineer!! I can't wait to see her grow

scunteriafer: cant tell if i wanna be her or be WITH her

lec4: YESSS YN IN THE PADDOCK MORE

f1fan33: you can tell @/rumorhasitf1 lovesss YN

liked by rumorhasitf1

charlnor: Kendall Jenner is lucky YN didn't choose to be a model because DAMNNNNN

cl16fan: i'm so happy she's doing something she loves and bringing awareness to women in motorsport <3

twitter

🔒ynferrari’s story

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liked by ynupdates and 6,083 others

rumorhasitf1: 🚨 RUMORHASITF1 🚨

YN Ferrari has made her instagram account public!!!! @/ynferrari

900 comments

scunteriafer: OMG OMG OMG

sainzferrari: all the posts with fernando 🥹🥹

cl1644: CHARLES DEEP IN THOSE LIKES… SINCE 2016????

-> norrisluv: looks like he’s been down bad for awhile 😭😭

cl16fan: the highlight dedicated to her custom ferrari this QUEEN

lechairs: all the interactions with charles are so sweet 🥹🥹

sebrarri: UR TELLING ME YN HAS BEEN ATTENDING UNI IN LONDON THIS WHOLE TIME

f1fan97: lando’s comments LMAO

-> lonso14: AND nando’s replies who knew they joked so much omg

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩

formulaamar 🎬: first of all, thank you so much for all the support on part 1 of “she’s a ferrari” i loved reading everyone’s comments 🥹🤍. i hope you enjoy this part just as much!!! the story is not over yet so reblog if you’re interested in a part 3!!! and comment if you wanna be on my taglist 🙂‍↔️

taglist 🌷🏷️: @agmoon03 @janeh22 @kindestofkings @ttokkisbee @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff

[maxarchive]

"A season that brought the best out of the best" Motorsport Magazine, February 2025 Issue, by Mark Hughes

We've seen plenty of demonstrations of Max Verstappen brilliance on his way to a fourth straight title this season. But has he become a yet-greater driver in '24? Yes. But not because of what he's done in the car; that's always been remarkable. Rather, in a challenging combination of circumstances where it would have been very easy for the whole team to have come undone, he has been the glue. He couldn't have been that if his power was not underwritten by the enormity of his talent. It was on display this season just as always – the virtuosity of dancing through the Interlagos rain, the steely focus of keeping a closely chasing McLaren from getting within DRS reach for 30 laps in Qatar, the technical perfection of Suzuka, the defensive masterclass of Imola, etc. But the circumstances he found himself in this season brought out a leader. At 27 years old he's no longer only the dazzling hurricane of speed and ambition. No longer only someone so driven, drilled and practiced that he’s virtually unbeatable in an equal car. No longer only someone of which his friend and Formula 1 driver coach Atze Kerkhof says is as good as he is, "because of a brilliant natural talent and millions of hours of training. He’s only got better. The rough edges have gone and now he’s like a machine. You cannot beat him." No, Max Verstappen is more even than all that now. A driver in their tenth F1 season doesn't get faster. They can possibly access their best stuff more consistently. But he's been doing that almost perfectly for seven seasons now, a remarkable achievement in itself. So where has he got better? Circumstances have demanded an extra dimension from him – and he's delivered it. But in a way which has not buried him, which still allows him his easy delineation between racing and home, keeping his mind perfectly uncluttered to focus on performance.

He prepared like never before for the new season, as team boss Christian Horner revealed at Suzuka in April. "He changed trainer over the winter. He's fit and lean. You can hear how much spare capacity he has in the car. He wants to know not just who's behind him, but who is behind them as well and what times are they doing. He's become very astute at managing the tyre. The way he managed to extend the tyre life here [at the Japanese Grand Prix] was so impressive."

But that's just a detail, a polishing-up. The leadership dimension came from the circumstances of Red Bull's season. Specifically the strains arising from the controversy surrounding the Horner internal investigation in the early season. Then the car's mid-season competitive decline.

The serenity in the cockpit at the start of 2024, as Verstappen continued from where he'd left off in his dominant '23 campaign, was very much in contrast to how things were in the team as the Horner controversy about the employee complaint against him played out and Max's father Jos got involved, opposing the team boss, campaigning for him to be ousted. 

The way Max dealt with the powerplay, which also involved Helmut Marko, the man who had almost single-handedly brought him to F1, was illuminating. He did not align himself with Jos, stayed on good terms with him but went his own way. He did state his unambiguously firm support of Marko – "If he goes, then so do I" – so sending an implicit message to Horner not to overplay his hand.

But then he helped bring calm equilibrium back, just continued with the competitive imperative and remained civilised with everyone, Horner included.

"What I know is that this team doesn’t give up," said Verstappen after clinching the title in Las Vegas. "There are a lot of very confident people and I really enjoy working with them. I know there was a lot of pressure on them. When you come out of a season like last year where we broke every record and then start to struggle to understand what is going wrong, it's important to remain calm as you try to fix it. Every person in the team has their own emotions which you have to deal with. It's also people-management – because everyone acts in different ways to good results or bad results. But that's something I enjoy as well. Because we all have our own character but we all have to work together to the same end goal and I'm proud of how we stuck together through those races where we were a bit lost."

As Jos was saying that Horner remaining would tear the team apart, Max was ensuring that it wouldn't. Probably this didn't come as much of a surprise to his mother, Sophie Kumpen, the former top-class karter who provided much of his genetic make-up. "Max will always want to solve things first by talking," she explained in a Dutch TV interview. "He is a sensitive person. He gets the fierce racing side from Jos. The gentle side from me. But make no mistake, eh. Under the helmet he is a tiger."

Given Max's childhood and the tempestuous marriage surrounding his early home life before his parents split, it's not much of a stretch to imagine where that diplomatic impulse might come from. It's something so at odds with his racing image, someone who is so uncompromising in his desire to win, he's even prepared to cross the line. As he phrased it in one of his own documentaries, "Sometimes you even have to be a dick to win."

The combination of that sociable, easy-going, even tempered guy outside the car (the Sophie side) and the uncompromising competitive monster in it (the Jos side) is a big part of his strength. But specifically, it has been front and centre in how brilliantly well he kept everything so cohesive in the '24 campaign when it had many ingredients which could have decimated it.

Further fallout from the early season controversy came as Adrian Newey announced his departure from the team, just prior to Miami in May. Max admitted it was a blow, but still he stayed focused. Because there was much to focus on – this was not going to be the breeze the early races had suggested it was going to be. There was a nagging trait in the car, one which had started to become apparent in last year's towards the end of the season: as they applied more aero load to it, so it was becoming more imbalanced. The front end wasn’t keeping up and it was becoming ever trickier to get the car into its sweet-spot window with set-up.

When McLaren made its breakthrough update in Miami, Red Bull's limitation was exposed. It was no longer superior, merely competitive. Then, as McLaren further developed its aero elasticity to give it a great front end at low speeds without compromising its balance at higher speeds, it began pulling clear of Red Bull. The middle part of Verstappen’s season – Silverstone to Monza – was all about wrestling with the competitive consequences of that as Mercedes surged into form too.

It was at this point that Verstappen began visiting the factory at every possible opportunity, maximising his simulator time, working with the engineers in trying to find a solution to the car's limitations. "His workload has been phenomenal this year," says an admiring Horner. But without surprise, for as he’s also said in the past, "The more pressure you put on, the better he delivers… his mental resilience is the strongest I've ever seen."

Only at Hungary did the strain that the competitive struggle was putting on the relationship become apparent. There, he was having an untypically scrappy race trying to overcome the car’s limitations on a day when both McLaren and Mercedes were faster. His race engineer Gianpiero Lambiase (aka ‘GP’) is a tough but calm character, gives as good as he gets and in that sense is perfect for Max. There’d already been a terse exchange between them about Max giving a place back to Lando Norris after having passed off-track. When GP admonished him for not bringing in his new tyres sympathetically, it triggered the sullen kid who hates to be beaten and he responded with (the more-severe expletives removed), “No mate, don’t give me that bullshit now. You guys gave me this strategy, OK? I’m trying to rescue what’s left.” The strategy was perfectly good for the limitations of the car and was predicated on having newer tyres in the last stint, even though that involved getting undercut initially.

It was the low-point of his season – the breaking point after he’d carried the load for so long. It’s where the competitive fierceness conflicted with the leadership role, and it took a sit-down with Horner and Lambiase before the following race to realign that. They were in the car with him, they emphasised. He wasn’t alone, even if it feels like that in the cockpit sometimes. They felt his pain. He took it on board, as always completely straightforward in his communication. He likes to feel he can call the team out when it’s not delivering just as they can call him out when he’s wrong. This was one of the latter times. But there’s never any lingering resentment. “He’s emotional,” says Horner. “Partly that’s where the performance comes from. He’s incredibly strong-willed. He’s a thoroughbred and can be very sharp when emotions are running high. He doesn’t hold back.”

As that sit-down coincided with Monza, with the car at its absolute nadir, we were witnessing how close the whole thing was to falling down. Had the relationship not been repaired and the car’s shortfalls continued not to be understood, it’s easy to imagine a scenario where the partnership broke down irretrievably. But actually not only did they rally around Max and give him the reassurance he needed to get out of that negative place the Budapest weekend took him to, but Monza then shone a big light on the cause of the car’s woes. Which they could set about addressing. Together, they emerged from the crisis.

As they did that, we saw a classic bit of Verstappen hard-headedness in Austin and particularly Mexico against his title challenger Norris. The niggle between them had started in Austria back in June, when they’d punctured each other’s tyres as Verstappen fended off Norris’s attacks in a way which stretched the sporting regulations. It was like that again in Austin and Mexico and in the latter event his move at Turn 7, with no attempt to make the corner so as to ensure Norris went behind once more, was outrageous. It brought to mind his quote about what you had to be sometimes. That’s where he draws his lines; it’s about prevailing and about how extreme he’s willing to be. No one is ever going to pass him around the outside, he says. Something that was drilled into him as a kid in karting by Jos.

If there is turbulence in the aftermath he’ll not acknowledge it. In fact he seemed mystified about why Norris was so upset afterwards in Austria, that delineation for him between on-track and off rarely so well illustrated. Criticism for the incidents by the media did seem to sting him, though. “He’s more sensitive than you think,” Horner says. “Inevitably he’s aware of the criticism and some of it, I think, is very unfounded. He’s a driver that drives aggressively; he’s an attacking driver. But so was Senna, so was Schumacher, so was Hamilton, and they all came under the same kind of spotlight at various times in their careers.”

It was the criticism he received after his incidents with Norris in Austin and Mexico which particularly bugged him. He perceived them as attacks from countrymen of Norris rather than as attacks against professional fouls. He knows he’s the best out there and if there’s some nudging over the specified lines of regulation on track involved in overcoming the competitive limitations of the car, then he probably feels justified. That, for some, puts him in the same bracket as Michael Schumacher as someone whose achievements have an asterisk against them. But he’s not racing for their approval.

He’s not even racing for achievements. As he says about more titles, “I’m already very proud to win four. Winning one or seven is the same thing. You’re just repeating. It’s nice to repeat but it means the same thing. The first one is what you are chasing, is the whole reason you are there. You’ve done it. After that, it’s just nice and doesn’t really mean as much. What’s been beautiful is that each of the four titles have had different emotions. This one has been the best as we’ve not had the fastest car. But the first one will always mean the most.”

That indifference to the statistics of achievement means he won’t be trapped into chasing numbers that only mean anything to outsiders. But there’ll be a conflict between his love of racing and his stated yearning not to be racing long before he reaches 40 (which is what Lewis Hamilton used to say too!). That conflict will surely play a crucial part in what he decides to do with the rest of his life. He’s never known any other life, of course, as the boy brought up in the circus. 

As a driver he’s one of the all-time greats, a more formidable all-rounder even than Fernando Alonso, faster, more extreme. But similar. Alonso is the nearest driver in overall traits. But even the great Alonso bows down to the level Max has attained. The number of times Max has not maximised his car since joining Red Bull in 2016 can be counted on the fingers of one hand. Is he the outright fastest over a lap? Often he is, yes. But this is a misunderstood concept. A driver can only get to the ceiling of his ability if the car’s traits, the way it is balanced, allow him to. There are many reasons why it won’t be, especially in this era of thermally sensitive tyres. 

But let’s assume every driver on the grid was magically given a fully competitive car, each perfectly balanced to match the outer edge of their specific style, in how each driver was wired up physiologically. Would Max be the fastest in qualifying? Possibly not. If it wasn’t him, you’d be looking for Charles Leclerc, possibly Lewis Hamilton at the height of his powers. But in the grind of a race and the even grittier grind of a season, would Verstappen in those circumstances prevail? Almost certainly he would, yes.

There’s no weakness. Schumacher had weaknesses, Senna too. Alain Prost was as rounded as Max but not as quick. Before then, we are heavily into the dangerous era – the years which killed Gilles Villeneuve or Jochen Rindt or Jim Clark and mortally wounded Stirling Moss, drivers who, like Senna, could conjure things that left their contemporaries shaking their heads in wonder. None of the current stars, Max included, quite have that. But Max can maximise every situation with unerring consistency like Fangio, like Clark, like Stewart. And if the peaks of his raw speed are not quite as miraculous as some of the past, he runs close to that almost all of the time, probably more than anyone before.

He’ll be missed when he’s gone, when the rewards no longer offset the energy draining irritations.

[rosielovesf1]

podiums + pregnancies

someone knows how to make an entrance (she gets it from her mummy)

word count: 1.5k

warnings: none! (my first post oop)

author's note: welcome to my blog!! this is a bit rough, but i figured it's only going to get better with time so here goes. thanks for spending some time on my little corner of the internet!

y/n was not joking when she said her ankles had left the building. she didn’t know when it had happened, but they had completely and utterly given up on her. 

“Baby girl, it’s just rude at this point,” she said quietly to herself. Despite the discomfort, she was unable to stop the beginnings of a smile when she thought about the little human that she’d couldn’t wait to meet. “I thought we had a deal that you wouldn’t do this to me until my maternity leave started.” 

And that leave was so close she could practically taste it (thank God), but brought with it some bittersweet feelings. In her comfortable seat in the McLaren motorhome, watching the race coverage on the television with papaya headphones secured over her ears, she took a second to enjoy the moment. Her whole life she’d been working towards her dream of being a motorsport journalist, and after a couple of wildly successful interviews with the most closed off of drivers, she was catapulted into the glitzy and glamorous world of F1. In the midst of seeing her dreams come true, she hadn’t expected to fall in love- with the curly haired boy who was currently in a comfortable third place. 

The garage started to buzz with excitement as the end of the race drew closer and closer. y/n gasped as Lando’s position was threatened with five laps to go, but he defended skilfully, pulling ahead on the straight and successfully creating more distance between him and the contender. The mechanics roared, and suddenly there was a flurry of motion as they got ready to cheer their driver to the checkered flag. 

“That’s your daddy!” y/n said, unable to contain her excitement. There was an uncomfortable twinge in her gut when she stood to celebrate him crossing the finish line with the rest of the garage, but it was easily ignored in the midst of hugs and cheers with the rest of the team. Pato found her in the crowd (she was hard to miss at 38 weeks pregnant), and squeezed her shoulders in a side hug. 

“No wonder he’s on the podium, with his lucky charms here,” the McLaren reserve driver said, his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. y/n's smile grew as she took him in- race weekends were always made better by his presence in the McLaren garage. Pato had been one of her very first motorsport interviews while working in IndyCar, and her nerves had been through the roof when first meeting him. Luckily, they’d clicked instantly, bonding over their shared upbringing in Texas, and her ability to draw out his wonderful personality on camera had been a huge help to advancing her career. “Wanna head over there?” 

“Yes! Definitely. But I’m warning you, it’s going to be slow.” She shook her head and smiled fondly down at her bump. “I’ve seen turtles who walk faster than me.” 

“Oh, come on,” he said, steadying her arm as she stepped down from the raised platform where chairs were placed in the garage. “I think you could at least win a race with a snail.” 

“Mean!” she laughed, swatting his arm away as they followed the horde of people surging towards the podium. “You get pregnant, and then we’ll see how you do.” 

“Yeah, I don't think that's in the cards for me,” he said, bumping her shoulder. There was too much noise to continue their conversation as they neared the podium, and they only had to pause once on their journey as y/n breathed through another twinge. This one seemed a little stronger, but she recovered quickly, and Pato shielded her as people jostled for a spot close to the front. Luckily, the McLaren team recognized her fondly and made a path towards the fence, closing in behind her and Pato so they couldn’t be bumped around. 

“God, this never gets old.” y/n said, taking in the roar of the crowd, the feeling of being one in a sea of many. 

“Here he comes!” Pato yelled over the many voices around them, and an uncontrollable smile broke out across her face as her boy pulled off his helmet and ran towards them.

He slowed down as he neared her, wrapping her in a tight yet cautious hug. 

“Doing okay, baby?” he said into her ear, planting a gentle kiss on her cheek. 

“Are you kidding me? You were amazing out there! I’m so proud of you!” y/n squealed, hugging him as tightly as her belly allowed. Cameras clicked around them as she pulled back to meet his soft lips, smiling into the short kiss. 

“Did it for my girls.” He said, eyes bright as he stared into hers. For a second, it was just them, and she felt a warm rush of gratitude for where life had taken her. Dream career, dream love, and a new dream- a child made from the best parts of both of them, arriving in just a few weeks. 

“Go celebrate with your team,” she mouthed, eyes going glossy. 

He looked conflicted but nodded, gently cupping the sides of her face and planting a kiss on her forehead before stepping away. With a giant whoop, he launched himself into the crowd of waiting McLaren employees, clapping hands with some and hugging others. He shot a wink over at her before walking into the building and the cooldown room, and the crowd grew antsy as they waited for the trophy presentation. 

Now that there was a lapse in the excitement, the twinges y/n felt were becoming harder and harder to ignore. She gripped Pato’s arm to her left as a particularly bad one came on, wincing in pain. 

“y/n?” he asked, voice filled with worry. “Everything okay? Is it too crowded?” 

“Yeah,” she breathed out, the pain subsiding within a few seconds. “I just, I keep feeling this squeezing sensation that I-”

They came to the realization at the same time, and Pato’s eyes seemed to almost be more terrified than hers. “You don’t think?” 

“I uh-, I mean,” Pato looked around frantically. Any hopes of further conversation were blown away as the trophy presentation started, and Lando was announced as the third place driver. He walked out onto the podium, a smile on his face and Pirelli hat on, taking his spot on the third place platform. His happy expression only grew as he scanned the crowd, until his eyes found what y/n assumed was an alarming sight- her practically doubled over, hanging onto Pato’s arm for dear life, and Pato looking like he would rather be thrown out of an F1 car than in this situation. 

Others around them started to take notice, and the female employees in particular rushed to her aid, offering bottles of water. y/n accepted gratefully, and looked up in time to notice that her favorite driver was no longer standing proudly on stage, and all of a sudden he was rushing out to find her at the fence. 

“Go back-” y/n forced out. “Fine. Just need a second.” 

“Baby, no.” He said, finding a way to move the fence so y/n could join him on the other side.  He took charge of supporting her- Pato practically sagged in relief- and ran a hand over her hair. “We have to go. Oh my god, we have to go? Is it time?” 

“No.” y/n said firmly. She could feel all eyes of the crowd on her, and even the announcer on the podium had paused his program to watch the chaos unfolding below. “Your moment! She can wait!”

But as y/n's face crumpled in the wake of another contraction, the decision was made for the both of them by their daughter- she was coming, and she was coming now. His hands shook as he guided her inside, y/n groaning more about making a scene than the pain. Pato called out a feeble “Good luck!” from behind and she sent a weak wave his way. 

A staff member inside the cooldown room had already called an ambulance, and Lando guided y/n into a chair before squatting down to press his forehead against hers. 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, rubbing her hands over his shoulders.

“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for,” he said, taking a deep breath to try to stop his hands from shaking as he intertwined them with hers. The combination of the post-race adrenaline and the imminent arrival of their daughter was doing crazy things to his nervous system. “I can’t believe this is really happening. I’m so sorry you spent the day here when you could’ve been comfortable at home.” 

She shook her head at him, her deep breaths the only sound in the space. “No place I’d rather be.” 

He squeezed her hands at that, kissing both cheeks and leaving the lightest kiss on her nose. 

“She’s really coming, huh?” y/n whispered in disbelief, a tear slipping down her cheek.

“She’s really coming,” Lando laughed, not able to believe his luck.

@y/nnorris: our angel on earth. amelia parker hinata norris. 03/16/2024.

@landonorris: my two favorite girls in the world. ☀️ someone knows how to make an entrance (she gets it from her mummy).  ready for #2 whenever you are @y/nnorris 

[theemporium]

[2.9k] when your boyfriend is giving his piano more attention than you, you set out to remind him just where his hands should be instead. (smut)

based off this request

.

It was torture.

Pure fucking torture. 

That was the only way to describe his current predicament, and yet, a sadistic part of him enjoyed it. He enjoyed it far more than he should have. He enjoyed it more than he ever thought he would. He didn’t even know if he wanted it to stop, even if his body was begging for it too. 

The situation leading up to this moment was stupid, honestly.

Charles loved the piano and it was a fact known to everyone. Despite the love and passion he had for racing, it had become a source of frustration in more recent months—something the people close to him knew all too well. And even if he kept loving it, there was times where he needed to step away from the sheets of data and the SIM car set up in the spare room of his apartment. 

There were times he just needed a release. 

And, it came in the form of the piano. 

At first, it was just a simple skill he decided to pick up in hopes that it would be a nice distraction from the endless hours he spent worrying about racing. Then, it became a hobby, a genuine interest to further the skill he had and become better. He was competitive after all.

Then, it became a way of expression. 

The notes flowing as his fingers danced across the keyboard felt freeing. The way the instrument did exactly what he wanted when he wanted it was something he lacked in other aspects of his life in recent years. The compositions were something to be proud of, a mark he could leave on the world beyond his career in motorsports. 

The piano became an outlet for Charles, something he became more reliant on in the last few weeks than he even realised. 

And it left you as a very sexually frustrated girlfriend.

You loved Charles. There was never a doubt in your mind that you loved Charles. You loved and supported what he did, you encouraged him to express himself whether it be in words or notes played on the piano. But, something bitter and resentful bubbled inside you at the fact you were fighting for your boyfriend’s attention, and your competition was a fucking musical instrument.

It just became easier for him to vent out his frustrations in a wordless hobby, and you understood that. But you missed him. 

You missed his touch and the way his fingers would glide over every inch of your body. You missed his kisses and the way they would leave you panting and breathless. You missed the way that when you were with him, you were his whole fucking world.

You missed your boyfriend’s attention just being on you, so you decided to teach him a lesson.

Maybe it was cruel. Maybe it wasn’t cruel enough. Maybe it was exactly what your boyfriend needed to remember the pretty girl he got to call his. 

“I didn’t say you could stop playing, Charles.”

He let out a shaky breath, a shiver running down his spine as his eyes snapped down to the keyboard beneath him. His hands were hovering over the white keys, his fingers itching to move but his brain was blank. Every single coherent thought was lost and he couldn’t fucking remember how to play a chord, let along a song.

But you asked him to keep playing, and who was he to deny his girl?

Even if said girl was currently lying on top of the grand piano he bought a few months back, clad in some lacy number he swore he had never seen before as her hands glided over the body he should have been touching, kissing, loving.

“Play, Charles. Show me what you’ve spent the last few weeks composing instead of touching me.”

He cleared his throat, his brain scrambling to remember the song that flowed so easily for him mere hours ago. But now, all he could think about was the noises that you were making, that you sounded better than any song he could ever compose. He was thinking about how he could listen to your pretty moans for the rest of his life.

His fingers were moving, slower and less confident that he would usually play, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as he watched you closely. 

The slick, black wood beneath you was cold. It was cold and refreshing against your heated skin as you ran your hands down your stomach, your touch feather-light and teasing as you heard your boyfriend let out a strangled moan. 

Your eyes were closed but you could imagine it so clearly. You could imagine the flush on his cheeks, the colour sweet and pink and a colour you wanted to pain the world. You could imagine the dazed look in his watercolour eyes, the same look he got when his head was between your thighs and he had no expiration on when he had to pull away. You could imagine the way his broad shoulders tensed, the stiff movements as he tried to grasp onto whatever self-restraint he had left.

“Cherie, please,” he whispered, almost too low for you to hear. 

Your lips twitched upwards. “Play me your pretty song, baby.” 

He was distracted, and his playing told you as much. He was distracted with the way your fingers glided over your nipples, the way they hardened beneath the lacy material you wore that barely covered them. He was distracted when your other hand slid lower down your body, as your fingers slipped past the waistband of your panties.

He was distracted by the small gasp that left your lips when your fingers pressed down on your swollen clit. He was distracted by the needy whine you let out as your fingers glided along your soaking cunt, collecting your arousal before you finally slid one finger inside yourself. He was distracted by the way your body squirmed and arched as you touched yourself, as you moaned his name with his broken playing in the background. 

Charles was completely enraptured by you. He couldn’t fucking get enough of you. He didn’t care about the piano or his song, he didn’t care about anything other than the pretty girl fucking herself in front of him and the fact his cock was straining in the confinements of his boxers and sweatpants right now. 

He needed you. He needed you so fucking bad.

“Let me,” he croaked out, his eyes locked on the way your back arched off the piano. “Let me make you feel so good, baby. I can make you feel so good.”

Your head turned to the side, your eyes fixated on his glassy eyes and pouty lips. 

“Charles,” you moaned, your face contorting as you felt the coil in your stomach tighten.

“Please, baby, please,” he continued to beg, one hand dropping away from the keyboard to palm the length of his cock over his sweatpants. “Anything you want, let me give you it.”

You tucked your lip between your teeth. “Anything?”

“Anything,” he repeated breathlessly. 

“Make me come, Charlie,” you whispered. “Show me what a good boy you are.” 

The words had barely left your lips before his hands were on you. His fingers were digging into the fat of your thighs as he turned your body to face him, as he pulled you towards the edge of the piano until your panty-clad cunt was inches away from his face.

His fingers ran over the lacy material of the nightgown you were wearing before he pushed it further up your stomach, until it pooled just above your belly button. He looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours as he leaned down to lick a strip over your clothed cunt.

“Fuck,” you groaned as your head fell back against the piano, your eyes fluttering shut as his tongue pushed against the material of your panties. “Charles—”

“I know, cherie,” he murmured, his words hot and breathy against you as his nose nudged against your clit. “I know, I know what my baby needs.”

“Thought you were my good boy,” you goaded, your hands fisting the material of your nightgown as his arms wound around your thighs to lock you in place.

“I am,” he mumbled, his eyes falling shut as he placed kisses along your inner thighs, the slight stubble on his cheeks scratching against your skin in a way that made you arch closer to him. “Gonna show you how good I am.” 

The sound of fabric ripping was the least of your concerns as he tossed them away, the cool air hitting your exposed cunt for less than a few seconds before his mouth was on you. Charles loved being between your thighs, he could have spent his whole life between them if he got the chance. 

And now, with your thighs squeezing his ears and the sounds of your pretty whines echoing through the room, he realised just how long it had been since he had found himself in this position. That between the countless meetings, back-on-back race weekends and constant travelling, that he hadn’t been giving his princess the love she deserved. 

That he had been depriving himself of his favourite meal.

“Charles!” You cried out as his tongue sloppily lapped at your cunt, appreciating groans vibrating against you as your legs squeezed around him. You tried to clench your thighs together, only for him to pin your legs open again. 

Charles was a starved man, and he was fucking devouring you. 

The words leaving his lips were better off being incoherent to you. Phrases mixed between French and Italian that you didn’t quite understand, but it was hot as he lapped and licked and sucked and kissed every inch of your needy cunt until your thighs were soaked and you were certain that you were dripping down onto the keyboard.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you whined, your hands darting down to entangle themselves in his thick curls he had grown out. He let out a needy noise from the back of his throat, one that had his fingers digging into your skin so tight that you were sure it would bruise in the morning, but you didn’t care. “Right there, baby, fuck! Feel so fucking good, Charles, so good—oh!”

Your nails scratched against his scalp as his eyes fluttered shut, as he groaned against your cunt until you were coming. Your body tensed and shook, your moans pathetic and loud and just the way he liked it. His name was like a mantra on your lips, repeated over and over like a prayer. 

But Charles didn’t stop.

The swipes of his tongue were slow and lazy, but he didn’t stop even after you came. He licked up the mess he had made, he pressed your hips into the piano as you wiggled and squirmed under his hold. He enjoyed the dull pain as you pulled on his hair as he licked your wet thighs and needy cunt until you said the single phrase that could make him pull away from between your legs.

“Please, Charlie,” you whispered, breathless and whiny and greedy for more of him. “Need your cock.”

The noise that left his lips was some pathetic mix of a groan and a whine as he pulled away from you, his lips and chin glistening with your release as his tongue darted out for one more taste. He pushed himself up onto his feet, the piano bench now long forgotten as he quickly shoved his sweatpants and boxers down to his knees. 

His hand slid up your leg, lightly slapping the side of your thigh until you lifted your head to look at him. 

“Turn around, baby,” he murmured, his voice lower and gruffer than it was before. “Show me that pretty ass, cherie.”

Your hands were braced against the piano as Charles placed one hand on your waist, the other guiding his cock deep inside your cunt until he was buried to the prim. You let out a noise of content, the desire for the slight burn of his thick cock pushing into you eagerly fixed after weeks of craving him.

Your head fell back against his shoulder, a desperate noise leaving his lips as his head dipped down to press his lips against yours. And you let him kiss you. You let his tongue swipe over your bottom lip, you let yourself taste your release on his tongue as he deepened the kiss. You let him kiss you until your lungs burned for air and your body craved for him to move.

“Fuck me,” you whispered breathlessly against his lips. “Fuck me like you miss me.”

“I have fucking missed you,” Charles groaned as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. “Missed every single part of you, cherie. You’re fucking perfect.”

“Show me, Charles,” you sighed as your fingers gripped the edge of the piano. “Fuck me on this stupid piano and show me.” 

Charles was a patient man. He was a patient man who had the tolerance and restraint that would make a saint envious. He was usually so collected, so calm and put together even in situations where he didn’t have to be.

But any semblance of patience was thrown out the window when it came to you, especially when it came to fucking you.

The room that was usually full of beautiful notes and passionate music was now replaced with the sound of skin on skin, slapping against each other and accompanied by debauch noises that left a pink tint to his cheeks.

He had one hand pressed against the middle of your back, keeping your tits and face pressed against the cool wood as he fucked you from behind. His thrusts were hard, his tempo was fast and you felt the coil in your stomach tightening faster than you ever had before.

He could feel the walls of your cunt clench around his cock, could feel the slick of your arousal staining his own thighs but he didn’t fucking care. His lips were red and raw from how hard he was biting down, his skin felt like it was on fire and his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. 

And yet, he never wanted to leave that moment. 

The sight of you bent over his fucking piano, your ass jiggling with every snap of his hips and your nails desperately trying to dig into the glossy wood like you needed something to grip onto, like you needed a lifeline to ground you. The way you screamed his name, the way you screamed for his cock and the way he thrusted deep inside you, hitting that spot over and over again until you could feel him in your stomach.

“So good f’me,” he groaned as his hand groped the meat of your ass in his palm. “You were made for me, cherie, my perfect fit.”

“Charles,” you choked out between moans, but your boy knew you better than you knew yourself.

“That’s it, baby,” he whimpered. “Come for me, let me feel you. I wanna feel how good I make you feel, princess.”

The nickname wasn’t used often, but it was more than enough to tip you over the edge. The noises you let out were borderline pornographic as Charles continued to fuck you through your orgasm, as he leaned over until his chest was pressed against your back and his cock was hitting a new, deeper spot with every thrust. 

His lips were on your neck, kisses placed on your skin between whispered French phrases of praise as he finally came, as he released inside you and felt your walls clench around him like you didn’t want his cock to leave you just yet.

You were panting and breathless, your cheek pressed against the grand piano as you let your eyes fall shut at the feeling of his gentle kisses and the soft touch of his hands all over your body. Your lips twitched as you heard him murmured ‘I love you’ over and over again in different languages until he needed to pause for a breath of air.

“Je t’aime aussi,” you murmured back, your pronunciation still a little dodgy despite the time you’ve spent dating the Monegasque, but it made him smile nonetheless.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured as he ducked his head down to kiss your cheek. “I love you more than the piano, you know that?”

You snorted. “Well, I sure hope so after that.”

Charles grinned. “Nothing could ever compare to fucking you, mon amour.”

You peaked a look at your boyfriend. “Nothing?”

“Nothing,” he confirmed.

“Not even round two?” You teased. 

“Depends,” Charles murmured as his fingers pulled at the hem of your nightgown you were still wearing. “Do you have any more surprises for me?”

“I did a lot of shopping while you were gone,” you told him with an innocent smile.

His eyes darkened. “Cancel all our plans for this weekend.”

You raised your brows. “Charles—”

“We aren’t leaving the house,” he told you as he squeezed your hips. “We need to make up for lost time, even if that means fucking you on this damn piano in every single piece you bought.”

“We need to eat, Charles,” you murmured, though the problem sounded just as dumb as it did in your head when he grinned at you.

“I’ll order you food in.”

“And what will you eat?” 

Charles’ smile only widened. “Jump up on the piano again and I’ll show you, princess.”

It was safe to say, neither your friends or family heard from you or Charles until at least three days later.

.

[delulujuls]

brazilian air | as12

hi, i am in my classic f1 era rn and i am currently obsessed with mr Senna god he was so fine and since it's his bday today i thought that im gonna upload this one bc why not

also im like 100% sure that this one will flop but i wanted to upload this anyway, so if you'll find it worth a shot, enjoy then!

happy bday king, 64 today but 34 forever, you'll always be missed

summary: during a month break from racing, ayrton thought that inviting y/n into his family sides will get them along even more. to the surprise to both of them, they got along even better than expected

warnings: sexual content, fingering, female orgasm

pairing: fem!mclarendriver x ayrton senna

After the Sao Paulo Grand Prix, there came a monthly break, even though it was only the second race of the season.

The end of march was very warm, but the weather in Brazil had its own rules. Just as in London there was probably a downpour and the temperature barely above ten degrees, the other side of the globe had almost holiday-like weather.

The 1990 season was the second year when Y/N took Alain Prost's seat at McLaren, thus becoming Ayrton Senna's teammate. While many did not look favorably upon Ron Dennis's decision for various reasons—because Y/N was the first woman in history to have the opportunity to race at the top level of motorsport, her debut in Formula 1, her young age, and the fact of what kind of past Senna had with his previous teammates—with each passing month the doubts started to going away.

The girl handled herself on the track incredibly well, and since McLaren did not disappoint with their cars, she practically returned from every race with points, effectively shutting the mouths of all those who spoke unfavorably about her.

Even Ayrton himself, who was initially the most unconvinced about the boss's decision, also didn't need much to change his mind about her. At first, he approached her with distance, fearing that her joining the team might cause even more damage than when they had Prost in reserve. As it turned out, the girl was not his enemy; often, he himself silenced all those who attacked her and questioned her abilities.

Senna saw that she looked up at him as her authority. She never explicitly told him, but it was evident how she listened carefully to his advice, asked when she had doubts, and consulted almost everything only with him, although she had a whole crowd of people around her.

Ron breathed a sigh of relief seeing that they tolerated each other and there were no forecasts for them to repeat the Senna-Prost scenario. However, tolerating each other was an understatement, because Ayrton would never invite someone to his family's sides whom he merely tolerated. The Brazilian didn't admit it out loud, but he liked the girl. Sometimes he even caught himself thinking about her when she wasn't around, and when she was, he smiled a lot more in her company, whereas McLaren's garage used to be a place of nerves and tense atmosphere for him.

Yes, if someone asked him about Y/N, Ayrton would say she was his friend. Someone he never had after leaving Brazil.

"How do I say in Portugese that I can't eat anymore?"

The girl asked, lying on her towel stretched out on the hull of the motorboat belonging to the Senna family.

Y/N shielded the sun with her hand and glanced at Ayrton, who laughed at her question, sitting next to her and smoking a cigarette.

"It's not funny, your mom wants to fatten me up so that I'm heavier and slower than you on the track."

"Não aguento mais, tô chei", but even if you say it in Portugese, my mom won't listen to you anyway."

"I've never eaten such delicious food, but when we get back, I probably won't fit into my clothes anymore."

He released smoke from his lungs and involuntarily glanced at her when she turned onto her stomach and closed her eyes. Her hair, still wet from bathing in the lake, stuck to her shoulders, and her skin, once pale, slowly began to take on a blush from the sun.

"You look good, so don't worry."

"I didn't say I would look bad, just that I won't fit into my pants anymore."

"As long as you can fit into the car, you'll be fine."

The girl snorted, "Well, in that case, I have quite a reserve."

Y/N gathered her hair behind her shoulder and settled more comfortably, exposing herself to the pleasantly warming rays of the sun. Ayrton glanced down her body and only when the heat from his cigarette burned his fingers a little, he snap out of it. Did he really like the girl, or was it just that he spent so much time with her that he got used to her? He didn't know the answer to that question, but he knew that sometimes he found himself staring at her for a bit too long. Despite being a few years younger than him, she had feminine charms. He also objectively thought that the girl was attractive.

She didn't have much of a different opinion about him either because in her eyes, Ayrton was indeed a handsome man. He was tall, athletic, had beautiful brown eyes and hair of the same color, which often fell in curls onto his forehead. She liked his smile and the way he wrinkled his nose, which, like most of his body, was covered in freckles. But Ayrton appealed to her only as an older teammate, someone who was completely out of her reach, and for whom she was probably just an insignificant kid. At least that's what she thought.

They spent time at the lake until late afternoon, as for dinner, besides Ayrton's parents, his sister with Bruno, his nephew, was also supposed to appear. Upon returning to the Senna family's home, the girl took only a quick shower and threw on a thin, white dress because even though the day was slowly coming to an end, the temperature was still high. They spent the evening on the terrace, and time passed in a very pleasant atmosphere. Mrs. Senna made sure that only delicious dishes appeared on the table, while Mr. da Silva entertained the company with stories and jokes. Although Y/N didn't speak anything in Portugese except for the short phrases Ayrton had taught her, there were no communication problems for a moment. At one point, little Bruno grabbed the radio and turned up the volume, pulling the girl by the hand and inviting her to dance. The girl, already somewhat tipsy from wine, agreed without hesitation and followed the six-year-old, dancing with him barefoot on the still warm concrete. Ayrton's mother and sister sang along with the song, his father clapped his hands, and Ayrton himself looked at the scene with tenderness, laughing and sipping his beer. She took the boy in her arms and spun with him, dancing, to which Bruno laughed out loud. Although Ayrton's family had only met Y/N a few days ago, he was convinced, seeing with his own eyes, how much they liked her. It meant a lot to him.

"Tio, agora tio Ayrton!"

Bruno shouted and pointed at the man when a new song started playing. Ayrton laughed and shook his head, to which his sister started pulling his arm and, to the sounds of approval from the family, he stood up and approached the girl, who put the boy down on the ground.

"Querida senhora," he extended his hand towards her, slightly bowing, "may I?"

Y/N chuckled and nodded, extending her hand, which was met with numerous shouts and whistles.

"I can't dance, I can't dance at all."

She said through laughter when he pulled her closer and placed his hand on her waist.

"Everyone can dance to Brazilian rhythms, trust me."

Ayrton replied with an assuring smile and spinned her around, catching her again after a moment. They danced, understanding each other without words, laughing only when one of them accidentally bumped into someone or stepped on someone's foot.

The girl didn't know if her cheeks were burning from the sun, the alcohol, or the fact that she felt embarrassed by being so close to him. But she felt light and happy enough not to dwell on it. She wanted this evening to last as long as possible.

However, at some point, Bruno fell asleep on the chair, and Viviane took him in her arms, announcing that she would put him to bed and she will also take a rest, wishing everyone a good night. Ayrton's mother, seeing that his dad had had enough beer, took him by the arm and, amid numerous protests, escorted him inside. The girl helped carry the dishes to the kitchen, and when she brought in the last batch of plates, Ayrton's mother hugged her tightly.

Y/N returned her embrace with a smile, wishing her a good night before returning to the terrace.

Seeing the expression on her face, Ayrton smiled too.

"They liked you, but I'm sure you noticed that yourself."

"They are very kind," the girl replied, closing the terrace doors, "you have a truly wonderful family."

Y/N approached the table and took a chair to sit on it, but Ayrton straightened up and patted his knees, indicating that she should sit on them. The girl accepted the invitation without protest and sat on them sideways, embracing him around the neck.

"I'm glad you agreed to come here with me," he said, looking into her eyes, to which she smiled.

"I'm glad you invited me."

For a moment, they looked at each other in silence, she on his lap, with her hand on his bare shoulders, he with one hand on her waist and the other caressing her exposed thigh. He raised his hand and brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear, touching her flushed cheek. The girl smiled at his gesture and closed her eyes.

"You're important to me, you know?"

"I am?"

She asked, looking at him again.

Ayrton nodded, stroking her cheek with his thumb. Y/N threaded her fingers into the hair resting at the base of his neck, stroking it lightly. At one point, without thinking or saying a word, he leaned towards her and kissed her. She kissed him back, touching his cheek with her other hand. Ayrton didn't break the kiss, he just hugged her tighter, pressing their bodies together. Y/N was returning each of his kisses and after a while their tongues started their love dance, rubbing against each other. Even though they were both a bit drunk, Ayrton wasn't sure how much he could afford. However, when she slightly opened her legs, giving him a silent invitation, he squeezed her thigh to which she sighed. He smiled against her lips, continuing to kiss her. He stroked her leg, moving higher and higher with each movement. When he felt the fabric of her underwear with his fingertips, he pulled away slightly, wanting to look at her face and see her reaction, but she pulled him closer again, connecting their lips in a kiss.

"Do not stop"

Ayrton smiled against her lips and deepened the kiss in response. He ran his fingers over her pussy and she purred softly. He began to slowly massage her through the fabric of her panties, but when they began to get in the way after some time, he pulled them off her with a quick movement.

His lips soon moved to her neck, marking it with kisses. She tilted her head, giving him better access to her. Ayrton accidentally slipped the strap of her dress, but neither of them cared. The girl noticed it only when he sucked on her nipple, which made her moan involuntarily.

"You have to be quiet, can you do that?"

He asked quietly, glancing at her ecstatic face. She just licked her lips and quickly nodded. He ran his tongue over her nipple again, his hand still massaging her pussy. When he felt how wet she was, he slowly inserted his finger into her, but carefully watched her face, continuing to caress her breasts with his mouth. He looked at her, wanting to make sure they were both on the same page. However, his actions were perceived with enthusiasm, as the girl tilted her head back, letting out a muffled moans from her pursed lips. Ayrton smiled to himself, still peppering her breasts with kisses. He inserted his finger all the way and started moving it, expertly nudging her inner, sensitive spot. Y/N had a hard time staying quiet, especially when he added a second finger and his movements inside her started getting more precise and decisive. The girl covered her mouth with one hand and grabbed his wrist with the other and pushed him harder into herself, feeling that she was only seconds away from orgasm.

"Ayrton, I- oh my god…"

Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck again and dug her nails into his bare shoulder.

"Kiss me, quick"

He said quietly, his breathing also quickening. She complied with his command and kissed him, making him muffle her moans with his mouth. Y/N came on his hand soon after, squeezing her eyes shut and tilting her head back. After a few moments, the girl sat up straight again, trying to calm her breathing. As she slowly began to realize what had actually happened, the blush on her cheeks intensified even more. She looked at him uncertainly, he laughed seeing her reaction and kissed her on the cheek.

"Don't look so innocent, you're quite a good one."

The girl felt ashamed and closed her eyes, cuddling into him, and he hugged her tightly.

"Promise me that no one in your family will sit in this chair for breakfast."

Ayrton chuckled and rubbed his hand on her back.

"I promise, don't worry about it," he rested his cheek on her head, "We can go somewhere else if you want."

The girl raised her head and looked at him.

"I won't be able to keep quiet, Ayrton. Your parents-" "Don't worry," he interrupted her, taking her panties thrown on the chair next to them and handing them to her hand, "I'll make sure you keep your mouth busy."

[jaslan4f1]

She chose me - Did she?

pairing: Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris x femalereader

summary: Charles, Lando and you and unbreakable Trio but what happens when you find out that they both have feeling for you.

warnings: /

(a/n): English is not my native language so this may contain consistency errors, i would really appreciate the corrections but please, be kind. feedback is also appreciated ♡

It all started because of a stupid interview you had with an mega hyped motorsport podcast.

One of them asked you “So Y/n we all know that due to your job as an f1 journalist you are really close to the whole grid. But our listeners would probably like it if you would share who your fav is”

You chuckled at the question, knowing that this question has just one logical answer.

“Oh I could never choose one. I like them all really, they all have different personalities and I really enjoy spending time with them” you said politely.

The podcaster just looked at you and smirked, knowing that they had some proof which 2 drivers you are definitely more around.

“Oh really we have seen you many times around with Charles and Lando. These two are definitely up on your list right? They have also shared that they enjoy having you around or during post race interviews with you.” You laughed at their statement. “Really they said that? Wow I feel so special. Yes ok fine, Lando and Charles are definitely up there” you had to keep your big smile back thinking about them.

In reality Lando, Charles and you were extremely close. You 3 had your own post race traditions and made movies nights after each qualifying.

You liked hanging out with them you would even describe them as your best friends on the grid.

What you didn’t know was that Charles and Lando weren’t actually that close and played friends in front of you. Both being lovesick idiots for you. They both were desperate for your attention. Lando did not hate Charles but he despised the fact that Charles could be a perfect match for you.

Charles thought that Lando would be a good friend for you but he was too childish for you. Charles was convinced that he was the man you wanted.

- present -

You were sitting in Landon’s driver room because he wanted you to wait for him there after practice 1 ended. You scrolled through your phone and read some comments about your interview in the hyped motorsport podcast. Some people shipped you with Lando some said that you and Charles were definitely an endgame. You shook your head with a smile on your face. “Who got you smiling like that darling” a male voice said.

“God Lan you scared me” Lando chuckled at your words. “You didn’t answered my question” he started walking towards you and sat next to you on his couch. He took your phone knowing that you trusted him and he could see what got you smiling. You watched his face and analyzed his reaction.

“ I think they are right” he suddenly said and turned his head to look at you. “About what part? Shipping me and you or that Charles and I would be the perfect endgame” you teased him.

Landos eyes got smaller, jealousy started growing in him. “Don’t do that” you looked into his eyes. They looked like tears were forming. Did that made Lando emotional? His lips were in a tight line. He didn’t dared to speak out his thoughts. I like you y/n please don’t choose Charles.

You started deep in his eyes. Suddenly the room was filled with tension and hot air. You could feel the need to kiss him. Fuck no that wasn’t right, he was your best friend right?

You could answer your thoughts because in the next moment your phone vibrated.

“Yes” you picked it up still haven’t stopped the eye contact.

“Y/n it’s Charles where are you I have to see you mon amour” the monegasque said.

Landos eyes filled with more sadness but instead of saying anything he took your phone and answered Charles for you.

“Yo it’s Lan we will be there in a minute ok bye” and with that he ended the call. “That wasn’t very nice Lan” you laughed. “Who said I have to be nice all the time”

After 5 minutes you found Charles. He tried to overplay the feeling of jealousy that he felt every time when he saw you alone with Lando. “Hey Charlie” you said and hugged him. Charles and Landos eyes met during the hug. Charles smirked knowing that you were the only one that gave Charles that nickname. Landos blood boiled and his face couldn’t cover that he didn’t liked Charles hands on you.

But somehow you were always the only one who didn’t seem to see the behavior of both boys.

After the hug you 3 went to the cafeteria and ate some post race day snacks. Of course the boys choose something more healthier that fitted into their diet.

“I will use the restroom for a second if you’d excuse me” you said and left the boys alone.

“Did you have a great time with her in your driver room?” Charles asked with a raspy voice. Lando laughed because he nodded with a smirk on his face. “You know little Lando in the end it will always be me” Charles said confidently.

“And why would you think that” Lando laid back into his chair. “Because she already chose me” Charles said and emptied his drink.

“Did she?”

a/n: Hey guys long time, no see. I had some busy months but I’m back and had this scenario stuck in my head since the TikTok sound started trending. Hope you like this one xoxo 💋

[vax-merstappen]

secret keeper (op81)

summary: trying to keep your and oscar's relationship hidden from the public was not easy, especially when the one person you trusted not to say anything may have told the whole grid what was going on.

this definitely got more funny than cute lol but this was probably my favorite fic to write! hope you enjoy!

You were walking through the paddock to meet up with the man who everyone knew as your best friend, Oscar Piastri. You had known each other for years, meeting when your brother had raced against him in a karting series. Though your brother had quit after only a few years of karting, you had grown close to Oscar and continued to hang out with him. When he got to Formula 1, you came to the races that you were able to in order to support your friend.

At least that's what the world thought. You and Oscar had been dating for 2 years before he started racing with McLaren. As a couple you mutually decided to keep your relationship as private as possible. Fans could get nasty and with Oscar's dream of making it to the pinnacle of motorsport, you knew that every single thing you did together would be analyzed if you were to go public. You liked your privacy and Oscar did too, so naturally it made sense to just be friends publicly.

Of course your families and close friends knew that you were dating. You had also informed the members of the team that needed to know, just so they could understand why you were always in the paddock. Outside of that, there were very few people that knew the situation.

So it was shocking to say the least when you passed by Pierre on the way to the McLaren hospitality one morning and he gave you a nod of recognition. "Ah, you're Oscar's friend!" he exclaimed, making air quotes as he said the word friend. He shook your hand and smiled.

"What is that supposed to mean?" you asked, wondering if he somehow knew you were dating Oscar.

Pierre looked embarrassed for a second. "Oh, um, I just meant that you guys seem too close to be just friends? You must be best friends to show up at all these races, he must see you like a sister?"

You cringed inwardly at being seen as Oscar's sister, but were ultimately relieved that Pierre did not know about your relationship. You wished Pierre luck on the race and continued towards the McLaren hospitality. Right before you could step inside, you saw Logan walking towards you.

He smiled before gesturing at you to follow him into the alley between the hospitality buildings. "You better treat him right," Logan said.

"Treat who right?" you asked, again scared that Logan knew about you dating Oscar.

"Oscar," he said and your heart skipped a beat. "If you're going to date him, you better do it right. If you break his heart, Alex and I will break you."

Your stomach dropped. "I, I how did you know?" you stammered.

"Oh, uh, lucky guess?" Logan shrugged awkwardly. "But, uh, don't mess with my boy." He walked away.

First Pierre acting weird and now Logan. Something was up and you needed to find Oscar to figure it out. You beelined into the hospitality to find where he could possibly be hiding. Checking all the rooms, you found that he was nowhere in sight. After asking around, you discovered that Oscar was scheduled to speak with the media at the press conference. You needed to find him before he got on that stage.

You walked as fast as you could without running towards where he was supposed to be. However, you looked to your right and saw yet another driver approaching you. Fernando Alonso himself rushed to your side.

"Hey congrats on the new boyfriend!" he said jokingly, before noticing the panicked expression on your face. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"I need to find Oscar," you said. "Somehow all of you know about us and I don't know why and I'm scared."

Fernando looked you in the eyes. "Hey, it's alright, let's go find him together. He should be at the media stage right?"

You nodded and were relieved as Fernando began to lead you towards your boyfriend. "But seriously, how did you know?" you asked.

"Well I heard it from Carlos, but I don't know how he found out," he revealed. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's fine, Nando, just help me find Oscar."

You finally got to the stage and saw your boyfriend already being interviewed. Fernando gave you one last reassurance that everything would be okay before leaving you to go do his own press duties. You looked to the seat next to you and saw yet another driver.

"I think you make a great couple," George said, smiling at you. The his face dropped. "Oh, I wasn't supposed to talk about it. Shit."

"It's okay," you sighed. "I know that you know now. I just want to know how this happened."

"Well," George said, looking around before dropping into a whisper. "A certain driver may have slipped and said something about it to Alex who texted Logan, Charles, and I who may have said something to Lewis who actually kept his mouth shut but apparently Charles told Carlos, who told Checo and Nando, and Pierre, who told Esteban and Yuki. That same driver also told Daniel who let Max, Lance, and Nico in and then Nico told Kevin and Valtteri and then Valtteri told Zhou."

"How do you know all that?" you asked, amazed that George kept track of all of the gossip.

"The skill of gossiping comes with the job," he said. "But you didn't hear all this from me."

You nodded. There was nothing left to do now besides wait for your boyfriend to finish the conference. While he talked, you recalled a conversation you and Oscar had during the past week.

---

"I can't believe you bring your friend to so many races," Lando had remarked. "I almost thought you guys were dating at first."

You and Oscar had shared a look. You nodded to him to confirm it was okay to tell the truth.

"Well we are dating," Oscar said and Lando looked up from his phone, shocked.

"Oh my god! I was right!" he shouted.

You and Oscar immediately shushed him. "We're keeping it a secret for now," you explained. "Don't want the press digging into our relationship."

Lando nodded. "My lips are sealed."

Little did you know, he had immediately gone to talk to Alex and let it slip that you and Oscar were actually dating. And a few hours after that, he had mentioned it in conversation with Daniel.

---

You had a realization. The only person who you had mutually agreed to tell on the grid was Oscar's own teammate, Lando Norris. And while you had trusted him, he was sort of famous for being a PR problem.

You looked up to see Oscar leaving the press conference. Your boyfriend smiled and walked over to you when he saw you in the crowd.

"Oscar, the whole grid knows we are dating."

Oscar looked panicked. "I'm so sorry, babe. I don't know how this could have happened, let me go figure it out..."

"I know what happened," you interrupted.

"What?"

"We're going to need to have a conversation with a certain teammate of yours."

Oscar rolled his eyes. "Of course it was him."

You two made your way to the McLaren garage and Oscar's face got angry when he saw Lando nonchalantly talking with one of the mechanics. Oscar was generally a quiet guy, but could be intimidating when necessary. You smiled as you prepared to watch the confrontation.

"LANDO MOTHERFUCKING NORRIS!" Oscar shouted. "Get your ass over here right now!"

Lando looked panicked and you could almost audibly hear him say "oh shit" before scurrying out of the garage. Your boyfriend looked back at you with an amused smile.

"Last time we trust him to keep our secrets."

You laughed before pulling Oscar into a hug. Even though Lando had leaked your relationship to the grid, you knew things wouldn't be so bad as long as you still had Oscar by your side.

[godessanonymous]

Blame it on the Vodka - LN4

Request: No.

Genre: Fluffy (i guess)

Triggers: mentions of small injury

Summary: Partying in the Netherlands Lando gets a little injured, after helping him you spend the evening at the celebrations.

The picture of him on the boat inspired me to do this

Blame it on the Vodka – LN4 Martin Garrix had invited you to the king’s day celebration in the Netherlands, load so of people were there, famous influencers and artists and then there was you. Technically you could be categorized under the influencer division, yet you were nowhere as known as most the others here.

The invitation only got to you because you went to school with the DJ.

You were now a nurse working in a trauma center in the sunny state of Florida. A couple of years ago you and a friend started a podcast just for fun and your following on both the Podcast as well as your usual social media grew fairly quickly.

Though you were not even close to some of the people here it, your podcast and work was what made you happy.

The party was loud, you got on a boat around noon and were immediately greeted with a drink and an orange shirt to put on. You scanned the crowd around you once you had pulled the fabric over your head. The boat wasn’t huge, but It was big enough to fit a lot of people you didn’t know.

The whole city was a Party, boats on the water and orange things everywhere. You loved a little bit of partying so chances were you’d have some good fun out here. Able you probably needed a glass or two before you could truly come out of your shell.

You made your way through the dancing bodies, recognizing a face or two and giving people a big smile and muttered sorry as you squeezed past them towards the DJ Desk to greet Martin.

As soon as he spotted you his face lit up. Next to him was a familiar face, be it only from TV. F1 Driver Lando Norris, a glass in hand chatting to a girl next to him. You reached him and he immediately pulled you into warm hug. “How’ve you been? How is life in the sunny state?” he smiled.

“Oh its great! Work never stops, but I am really enjoying life over there. The Podcast has been going well.” You responded. That wasn’t the whole truth, your life was rather busy than chill and enjoyable. You were more or less working two whole jobs. Juggling being in the media and the chaos of the ER weren’t always easy.

“How’s Daniel?” he asked leaving you debating what to say. You and your boyfriend had recently broken up and it wasn’t a pretty one.

“Oh… yeah well I don’t really know” was all you said, pulling a confused look from Martin. “OK well I have someone id like you to meet, you still enjoy motorsport right?” he switched the topic. “Of course I do.” You said, you knew what was coming. He was probably going to call Norris over to the two of you. And that is exactly what he did. “Lando come over here really quickly.”

The Brit, clearly already a couple of drinks in waddled over, quickly excusing himself from the woman he was chatting to. “This is a old school friend of mine, Y/N. I think you two would get along well. She doesn’t know that many people here. Maybe you could put your chatty self to use and introduce her to some people around here.” He said half joking.

The curly haired man looked at you. “Well hi, I’m Lando and apparently I am your tour guide, its nice to meet you.” He smiled. “Well how about we go get you a drink.”

And with that you walked off with him to the bar.

“You strike me as a Aperol Girl.” He thought out loud. You chuckled, he wasn’t wrong. But you weren’t about to go easy today.

“Well you’re not wrong but ill take a Vodka-O, if I want to get through today ill need something strong.

“Alright then, ill take another one of this and a Vodka-O for the Lady please he told the man behind the tiny bar, sliding his empty glass over the counter.

You lost him on your way back towards the middle of the boat. The swimming party had set of and was cruising around in the calm water surrounded by a ton of other small boats with partying people on them. You had found some familiar faces to have small chats with but quickly returned to dancing to the music playing loudly.

At some point you were stopped and checked by some harbor police who wanted to make sure everything was safe.

The alcohol had started to make you feel just the right bit fuzzy.

You grabbed another light drink and walked back to Martin who was jamming out just like the rest. On your way back you noticed a small group of people all standing around one individual. You went closer to investigate whatever was going on.

Getting closer you were greeted with the slightly bloody face of the British man you were introduced to earlier. He was clearly more drunk than you.

“Well what happened here?” You asked. Still grinning he responded. “Weeeelllll, I was dancing and someone smacked their glass in my face and it cut my nose.”

Ok so nothing bad. “Well what do we do now.” Someone you didn’t know said next to you.

“Aright someone get me a first aid kit. That cut won’t need stitches.” You said grabbing a tissue.

“Mind if I have a closer look Lando?” He shook his head no so you stepped up to him and wiped a bit of blood away.

“Well at least its not in your eye.” Someone set down the first aid kit next to you. You quickly went through it checking what you got. Grabbing a little light, some gauze and tweezers you turned back to your patient.

“Aright let me just have a look.” You stepped even closer to him. He was sitting and you were not, so eventough you weren’t as tall he was looking up at you.

You just now noticed the pretty color of his eyes and long lashes that put most girls to shame. Now almost standing between his legs you shine the light at the wound. It looked fairly clean cut, though a small piece of glass was still lodged in the wound.

“There is still something stuck in there, ill have to get it out. Stay still.” You said before you grabbed it with the tweezers in one quick motion. It came out easily, it did also earn you a tiny wince from Lando.

“You look like you know what you are doing.” He said, eyes questioning.

“That’s because I do, I am a nurse.” You responded quickly while searching through the little medical bag for some disinfectant a bandage and some steri strips.

“Aright lets clean the wound quickly. Cover your eyes with you hands please. And this might sting a little bit.” You warned him before spraying to quick sprays of the disinfectant on the wound.

He flinched at the coldness.

In your half drunken state you rewarded him with a little pat on the head, like you would do to pediatric patients at your hospital.

You dried of the wound and leaned down a little further to better place the strips to hold the skin together.

“What a view that is.” Lando said, probably before thinking about it.

The comment made you blush a little. Your shirt was pretty but also warm and not too revealing but given the position you were in his eyes were on the same level as your boobs.

You quickly finished up placing a small bandage.

“Okay you are free to keep partying but watch out for dancing missiles.”

“Well thank you very much for your help miss nurse.” He smiled back.

“How about I say thank you with a dance.” A offer you could simply not decline. He didn’t waste any time pulling you towards a small free space to dance. His steps were a little wonky, but you got there eventually.

In all fairness the man knew how to dance, your bodies were getting closer to eachother with each song and the tention was getting stronger.

Maybe coming here, despite not knowing people, wasnt so bad after all.

[cartierre]

ICED OAT LATTE | ma11

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU marcus armstrong x fem!novalak!reader (fc: sabrina carpenter)

side note: this is a bit on the shorter side but otherwise it felt like just dragging it out for nothing. there are two twitter threads though so i think that kind of makes up for it?

♡ liked by clementnovalak, marcusarmstrong, screamingmeals and 17,347 others

tagged: screamingmeals

y/n_novalak my segment on screamingmeals "y/n's coffee corner" launches this week! try out different kinds of coffee with me, send me suggestions how you like to drink yours and let's have a little chat together! we're going to start off strong with my all time favourite: an iced oat latte 🧊☕️

view all 82 comments

user1 watch y/n become the next emma chamberlain

user2 i don't like coffee but maybe y/n can come up with a way for me to somewhat enjoy it ⤷ user3 y/n should definitely do an episode on how to get into coffee as a beginner!

screamingmeals we never knew coffee could be so expensive ⤷ y/n_novalak i won't settle for cheap coffee beans

clementnovalak first you stole my best friend and now you get your own corner? ⤷ y/n_novalak go cry me a riverrrrrr ⤷ user4 y/n and clem being siblings, part 1933829

user5 i love an oat latte, but warm instead of cold!

♡ liked by clementnovalak, felipedrugovich, marcusarmstrong and 16,283 others

tagged: marcusarmstrong

y/n_novalak i'm the proudest girlfriend on the planet right now. to see marcus race here in st. petersburg makes my heart bloom. happy indycar debut babes! (psa: giving the coffee a 6/10 because it was overpriced)

view all 72 comments

user6 ugh i cannot they're literally perfect for each other ⤷ user7 i'm so glad clem introduced them to each other

clementnovalak for the record: i am still a bit salty you didn't come to my race this weekend ⤷ y/n_novalak should i hold your hand the next time since you're such a crybaby? ⤷ clementnovalak i'm telling maman that you're mean to me

user8 i never know if y/n and clem are being serious or not with their banter ⤷ user9 i have a brother and lemme tell you we're the same

marcusarmstrong with you by my side, i feel like i can achieve anything comment liked by y/n_novalak ⤷ y/n_novalak stop it i'm getting emotional

user10 *crying in single*

♡ liked by clementnovalak, marcusarmstrong, screamingmeals and 18,293 others

tagged: screamingmeals

y/n_novalak we're going into round two! this time on "y/n's coffee corner" we're going full traditional: we're taste testing the cappucino. a classic. the cappucino shines with a foamy top and lots of aroma. you can never go wrong with it. (spoiler alert: it's not marcus' favourite 😱)

view all 67 comments

user11 y/n needs to start a whole blog about coffee

user12 marcus doesn't like a cappucino? 🚩🚩 ⤷ y/n_novalak that's what i was thinking ⤷ marcusarmstrong i'm sorry

clementnovalak the way you only put a heart on yours and marcus' coffee and i got a blop of nothingness is actually hurting my soul ⤷ y/n_novalak you're always mean to me you don't deserve a heart

user13 i have the same coffee machine! comment liked by y/n_novalak

user14 i'm more of a latte person myself, but you can never really go wrong with a cappucino!

user15 back when i wasn't allowed to drink coffee, my mum always gave me her foam on her capuccino because i was so sad that i couldn't get one myself

♡ liked by clementnovalak, marcusarmstrong and 15,948 others

tagged: clementnovalak, marcusarmstrong

y/n_novalak visiting this dickhead this weekend in jeddah because he cried about me not attending his last race

view all 74 comments

user16 imagine being stressed because you cannot decide whether to visit your brother or boyfriend at different places for races ⤷ user17 she's living every motorsport fan's dream

user18 the lipstick stain is so real. men will never understand.

clementnovalak you made it sound like i begged you to come ⤷ y/n_novalak did you not? your messages say smth else ⤷ marcusarmstrong actually he cried because i wasn't able to come ⤷ clementnovalak that is correct ⤷ y/n_novalak okay since when is it "gang up on y/n" day?

user19 marcus using his free weekend to support clem is so sweet!

user20 i just know y/n was exhausted after a whole weekend with clem and marcus comment liked by y/n_novalak

[lxndonorris]

One last time - Charles Leclerc

Y/N x Charles Leclerc Theme: Smut warnings: attempt of oral sex, angry sex, swearing, you're having a special goodbye to Charles' Monaco suit x word count: 3600+ note: thank you for anyone voting, hope ya'll like this!

It's two days after this season's Monaco GP when you find yourself in Charles' apartment in Monaco. The conditions weren't optimal, and some people say, the Monaco curse struck again. Even though, it has been a special weekend for the whole of F1, and most importantly, for your boyfriend Charles. It's his home race, one of his favorite tracks and the whole atmosphere just hits differently. This year, he made sure to stun the whole motorsport world when he wore a special suit. Wearing a red and white suit, the colors of the Monegasque flag, filled his heart with pride, but also, made him look even better than usual.

Charles was so happy wearing it, and sadly, he wasn't able to get a podium wearing it. Imagining him, soaked in champagne, happy as ever, is th eonly thing that's left. However, after the events in Italy, he decided to do something for the people affected, and that's why, he organized an auction, with all the money earned going to people in need. Right now, you're sitting on the sofa in the living room, with Charles preparing everything to take some pictures of his racing gear. The gorgeous suit is lying on a table nearby, including the shoes and gloves. While he is inside the bedroom, gathering some more things, and looking for something to wear, you make your way toward the table, having a look at his suit up close.

"So pretty." You mumble quietly, and as soon as you look closer, your thoughts are drawn back to Saturday, when Charles qualified third. Reaching out, you feel the soft fabric with your hands, your fingertips barely brushing over the sleeves, then the chest, tracing Charles' name carefully. Sinking deeper into this memory, you close your eyes, focusing on nothing besides that certain feeling. A feeling of joy, pure excitement, and pleasure running through your veins. Taking a deep breath, you take in the faint scent of Charles clinging to every fiber of this suit. With your hands still running across the suit, you embrace this moment, as everything around you goes numb.

--

You're back inside the paddock, qualifying just ended and you find yourself inside a press conference. Hearing journalists mumbling and the clicking of cameras, you open your eyes and see your boyfriend Charles sitting on a sofa right next to his rival Max. He is wearing his white suit and a matching cap, with a enormous bright smile. His hands are resting on his thighs, and even though he's playing it cool, you can tell that all of him is as excited as ever. Then, Charles turns his head, and his eyes meet yours. Blushing heavily, you smile, trying your best to not draw too much attention to yourself. Charles, on the other hand, is way more bold. He keeps eye contact, licks his lips, and runs both of his hands across his chest, further down, making sure to briefly touch himself before resting his hands again on his thighs.

Your eyes follow his every move closely, and you know right away that he is in the mood. His whole body is screaming, craving a loving touch. He would always react that way when his body is flushed with adrenaline and excitement. Charles enjoys every moment of this, with a faint fire burning inside his beautiful eyes. All of this won't stop you from blushing. Luckily, all attention is on Max, who's answering questions while giggling to himself. Slowly, you regain your composure and lick your lips as well, however, you know how much he gets turned on by this. Challenged, he lifts his chin slightly, giving you a knowing look.

Just then, the whole crowd laughs at a joke, and this concludes the conference. As everyone is running about, Charles approaches you right away, leaning in to whisper into your ear. "I can't wait any longer." He suppresses a soft moan, and briefly grinds his hips on yours, showing you the desire building up inside him. As shivers run down your spine, you mirror him. "After you, Charles." You breathe against his neck and he separates himself from you just enough to smirk at you. He takes your hand firmly and drags you out of the room. The team is about to meet in half an hour, and he wants you, he craves you, and he's letting you know.

Together, you make your way toward his motorhome, through the whole paddock. Most people are too busy to notice him breathing heavily, and a fiery determination in his eyes. You don't mind him acting that way, quite the opposite. Charles taking charge turns you on. You enter his motorhome right after him and close the door. He lets go of your hand and takes a few steps into the center of the room. You, standing there, take another long look at him wearing that beautiful white suit. He takes off his cap, puts it down, and runs a hand through his messy, sweaty hair before he turns around facing you directly.

"Fuck, I'm hard right now." He grunts and strokes himself, his chest through the suit. You can tell his whole body, all of his muscles are tensing harshly, which makes it even harder for you to think straight. Carefully, you approach him, a playful grin forming on your lips. "Is there anything you want me to do for you?" You say, reaching for his firm chest, placing a hand right at his pecs. He lowers his gaze, following every little move of your hand, while you start to draw circles all over his chest. It feels sensational. You feel all of his muscles tense more and more. Charles' body is filling every inch of the suit, his strong arms, his firm chest, and his beautiful thighs. Then, he lifts his head, and your eyes meet again. "I've got something in mind," Charles growls deeply, his voice rough and husky. He places both of his hands at your waist, pulling you into a hot, passionate kiss. Steadying yourself against his strong, chest, you keep stroking him firmly.

"Mhmm." Charles purrs into your mouth, his hands are now wandering along your waist to the small of your back, stroking you in return. You embrace his warm lips on your own, and kiss him back, once then twice. That's when his familiar scent reaches your nostrils, invading your mind, and your thoughts instantly. This sends tangible shivers down your spine again, much to Charles' amusement. "This feels so good." You breathe into him. He moans softly, and to tease him a little more, you run your hands down his chest, his abs, until one of them finds its way down to his crotch. You feel his excitement bulging inside his gear, and once you brush over him, he chuckles. "Fuck." Charles grunts again and separates himself once more. "I cannot wait anymore." He licks his lips and reaches for your hand still on his crotch, and both of your hands grind on him now.

"Then what are we waiting for?" You smirk and reach for his neck, unbuttoning the collar of his suit. Before you reach for the hidden zipper, you stroke his chest once again, slowly, just to his waist. Charles leans his head back, letting out a low groan. "Amaziiiiing." His voice is even rougher than before, causing you to shudder. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" You pat his pecs gently, and he lowers his head, meeting your gaze right away. "I was waiting for this since I got out of that car." He growls, his hands now firmly on your butt, pulling you into him again. Giggling, you steady yourself against his chest again, taking in his scent even more. His cologne is strong yet gentle enough to not be too much. Getting a little overwhelmed, you close your eyes to regain a firm stance.

"Fuck." You moan now, and you don't even notice him slowly leading you toward an empty wall. However, before your back reaches it, you turn him around, so he's standing with his back to the wall. "Not so fast." You hiss, causing him to smirk approvingly. With your hands still on his chest, you slowly reach for the zipper, with his eyes following your hands closely. "You don't mind, do you?" You say, slowly unzipping his suit. Charles takes a deep breath, one hand firmly on his dick, the other on your waist, trying to hold you in place. He rests his back against the wall, embracing its welcomed support. "Mhmm." You're purring now, and as soon as the upper half of the suit is unzipped, you slide inside it with one of your hands.

You feel him much better now, all of his muscles are bulging through the thin fabric of the fireproofs, just as his nipples are piercing through it. Charles embraces your hand on his chest, moaning slightly once your fingers brush over his sensitive nipples. Knowing his nipples are his sensitive spots, you play with them for a little while longer, making it even harder for Charles to stay focused. "Oh, fuck. So good." He holds back but a quick groan escapes his mouth, giving you goosebumps. As he tries to concentrate, your eyes wander down his beautiful chest, enjoying the sight of all of him craving you more and more.

Just then, you notice his hand grabbing the visible outline of his length firmly, grinding on himself with the palm of his hand. "That's mine." You say, grabbing his wrist to remove his hand. Reluctantly, he lets go of himself, just for you to take his place. "Fiiiiine." Charles grunts, and he looks at you, that burning flame getting even more intense. With both of your hands stroking him lovingly, you notice him getting even more and more into it. "All..most." He breathes. "That's right." You smirk, and he bites his lower lip, holding back another moan. "Fuck." He grunts more angrily, and his hands find their way back to your waist, making sure you're not going anywhere. Removing your hands from him for a second you run a hand through your hair. "You look as beautiful as ever," Charles says suddenly, his voice so soft yet it can't hide his desire for you.

"Likewise." You say, placing a hand at his neck, tracing his jawline with your thumb, enjoying the light stubble at his chin. Then, while keeping eye contact, you start unwrapping him, opening his suit to expose his fireproofs. Together, you help him get out of the upper half of the suit, one arm at a time, and at the sight of his tight underwear, you gasp quietly. Instantly, your eyes wander down to his chest again, loving the sight of his visible nipples, abs, and pecs. You've seen him like this a lot, but white fireproofs just hit differently. Unable to resist, you stroke him again, and all of his muscles react to your slightest touch. His whole body is slowly edging him on, while you keep touching him firmly, your hands encompassing his whole upper body.

Charles moans multiple times, before he places a hand on your chin, gently lifting your face to meet his own. "You're enjoying that, aren't you." He buzzes, with his chest vibrating. "Oh yeah." You breathe deeply, and he leans into you, kissing you passionately. While you keep stroking him, he strokes the small of your back, making both of you purr in unison. Just then, he leans back again, holding back a long groan. "Pleasee." Charles says quietly. "I can't take it anymore." You lick your lips in anticipation and kiss him one last time, before you slowly get on your knees, still stroking his firm chest. Effortlessly, you manage to pull his shirt out of the suit, and instinctively, he grabs it, exposing his bare skin.

You place a few kisses all around his navel, his abs before you follow his treasure trail further down his body. You're now facing a huge tent formed inside his pants, and you lick your lips in anticipation. Teasingly, you let two fingers slip inside his suit, playing with its waistband before you attempt to pull it down. Just then, someone is knocking on the door. "Shh" Charles hisses. "Be quiet." He runs a hand through your hair. "Charles, we need to talk." You've heard that voice before, it is someone of the Ferrari crew. "Can we talk later?" Charles says, trying desperately to hold back more moans. "I just need to inform you, you've got a penalty." The voice says, and both of you are stunned.

"What?" Charles says angrily and walks toward the door while you get up from the floor. They talk for a few seconds, something about Charles impeding another driver. "Fuck." Charles grunts loudly. "I know. We will handle that." The guy says. "We'll give you another twenty minutes to calm down, okay?" Charles nods in agreement and closes the door. Now he's standing there, running a hand across his face and through his hair, holding his forehead while the other is on his hips. "Are you okay?" You say, and at first, he doesn't reply. But then, he just nods. "What's done is done." He turns his face and your eyes meet again, the fire is burning even brighter now, an angrier, possessive flame, and you can feel a sudden shift in his demeanor.

"I need you, now," Charles growls lowly, and walks towards you. "Do you want me, too?" He asks, and the way he looks at you sends shivers down your whole body. "I need you so much." You smirk, and he mirrors you instantly. This time, things are different, however. Charles is going in, grabbing your waist, and pulling you into another passionate kiss. While you steady yourself against his chest again, you feel his hands encompass all of your body, until they reach your boobs. The way he touches you feels you, gives you goosebumps right away. "Change of plan." He growls and separates himself. Charles takes a step back and you watch him bending down, untying his white shoes.

Even though you enjoy the sight of him looking up at you, he's way too quick. In a mere second, he pushes his shoes aside with his foot, and he takes several deep breaths. "I'm so hard for you." He grabs himself firmly, and while he moves his hand up and down his length, you smirk. "Then come get it then." You challenge him, causing his eyes to burn even brighter. Effortlessly, takes his whole suit off, and you watch it drop to the floor. Now, just wearing his fireproofs, he approaches you again, with his dick imprinting visibly through his underwear. You embrace each other's body right away. Kissing, and touching each other, you make your way toward the huge sofa, and with a playful nudge, he pushes you down onto it, the soft cushions now at your back.

Charles towers over you, looking down at your whole body while running one hand through his hair, the other mindlessly stroking his own chest again and again. His hand runs further down his body back to his length, where it stays for a while. "Come on." You motion for him to come closer, and with a low growl, he climbs on top of you. You're lying down, feeling his body grinding on yours, his length against your thighs. Charles' face is now hovering over yours. "Fuuuck." He exhales, all of that teasing already showing its effect. Teasingly, you use your leg to touch his dick, causing his whole body to get even stiffer.

Charles then comes back to his senses, as he bends down, kissing you multiple times, before making his way down your body. He places kisses all over your neck, your collarbone, and even further down your body. Carefully, he lifts your shirt, touching your chest, and your boobs until his fingers reach your navel, tickling you teasingly. "Charles." You moan softly, and you give in to him. Closing your eyes, you take in his loving touch, his beautiful scent, all of him. Moving your hips rhythmically, you don't even notice him unbuttoning your jeans, and before you know it, Charles pulls them down, including your panties.

"That's good." He groans, touching you teasingly, before climbs back on top of you. You open your eyes, watching him watch you. For a second, nothing moves, until you feel him pulling his underwear down as well. "I want youuu." You breathe deeply, and at that moment, you feel him sliding into you. The most sensational feeling. You love the feeling of his length entering your body and the noise he makes suppressing another moan. Most of the time, he would start slowly, but right now, Charles instantly increases the intensity and pace of his forceful thrusts. "Fuuck, you're so good." He grunts. "Mhmmm." You moan breathlessly, and it takes a while, but you manage to adjust to his rhythm.

You're moving as one now, rhythmically, and the room is filled with your moans, groans, and grunts. After all of that teasing beforehand, it doesn't take too long for the two of you to reach your limits. With one final harsh thrust, all of him goes stiff and rigid, and he lets out a long moan. At the same time, you climax as well, leaning your head back, giving in to him completely.

--

"It feels good, doesn't it." A voice rings through your mind, slowly pulling you out of your daydream. Shaking your head, you try to adjust your vision. Blinking a few times, you're back in your living room, your hand still on the racing suit, you turn your head to spot Charles standing next to you, wearing a shy smile on his lips. "it does." You say, looking back down, feeling the fabric with your fingertips, still tracing the outlines of his name. Charles does the same, following your fingers closely. "What were you thinking of?" He says suddenly, making you blush. "What?" You say, looking at him again.

"I've been calling your name for minutes now, didn't you hear me?" He chuckles, and you try to avoid his burning gaze, to hide your red face. For a minute, you stand next to each other, before you turn to face him. "I was thinking about how good you look in this." You say, and he raises both of his eyebrows. Then, his face softens. "Were you thinking about Saturday?" Charles smirks knowingly, but this time, you don't blush. Nodding slowly, you turn your attention back to the suit. "Would you….would you put it on again?" You say suddenly, catching him off-guard. "The suit? Eh, now?" Charles blushes now and turns his face to the suit as well. "One last time." You say, placing a hand on his chest, stroking him lovingly.

At first, he's seemingly lost in his thoughts as well, but then, he runs a hand through his nicely done hair. "Okay. Just for you." Charles smiles warmly, making you smile. Without hesitation, he takes his tight shirt off, exposing his beautiful muscles. Tilting your head slowly in disbelief, you look at him. "What?" He smirks, and unable to resist, you look down at his firm chest. "You're an idiot." You giggle. "You love me, shut up." Charles snickers and follows your gaze, but then, he pulls his pants down as well, until his underwear is all that's left. Immediately, you think about your daydream, and he looks even better now. He strikes a little pose, winks, and grabs the suit, unzipping it easily.

You watch him put the suit on, one leg at a time, his thighs filling the fabric fully. "Gorgeous." Biting your lower lip, you try to hide a mischievous smirk. Charles, on the other hand, is keeping eye contact, making sure you watch him. Now, the sleeves are hanging down his side, and you approach him, placing a hand on his bare chest. As soon as your finger touches him, his skin flushes with color. You follow the outlines of his abs, around his navel, and up to his pecs to his nipples. "It feels so good." Charles purrs happily, enjoying every part of it. With a little help from you, his big arms slide into the sleeves. Looking at him, you immediately get turned on again, and he's fully aware of it.

You place your hand on his chest again, stroking him one last time through his suit, before you close it. "Mhmm," Charles growls and tilts his head. "Happy now?" He smirks, placing his hand on his hips. Unable to fathom the essence of his beauty, you cannot help yourself but take it all in. Charles wearing his racing gear is always something special, but this suit hits differently. The fabric is flattering all of him, like a second skin. It's tight yet flexible, adjusting to his beautiful body perfectly. To tease you some more, Charles starts to stroke himself now, his chest, his stomach, and even further down to his thighs. He makes sure to let a hand brush over his length, again growing inside this suit.

"Oh fuck, you know it, Charles." You look right into his eyes, and approach him, kissing him lovingly. Together, you move around the room carefully, his body grinding on yours, and you feel yourself getting back into that moment. The faint of his cologne swirls around your nose, giving you goosebumps. "Mhmm." You breathe into him, making him moan quietly. Touching him, feeling his chest, you can tell that he's feeling it too. He must be.

Just then, he stops. "As mucha s I love this." He growls, his voice breaking slightly. "The camera team is arriving shortly," Charles says, caressing your cheek with his thumb. "Too bad." You say, stroking his chest again. Thank you, though." Kissing him again, you help him change into his other clothes, waiting for the team to arrive.

[coimbrabertone]

Offtopic Offseason #3 - Clone Wars Rewatch Thoughts: Part I.

We're deep in the motorsports offseason and I've been on a Clone Wars rewatch for the past week or so. I'm in early season three right now, still before the timeskip, but I've been enjoying it a lot and it's gotten me thinking about Star Wars again, so I wanted to yap about it in a blogpost.

I think I'll even do a part two once I'm done rewatching the whole thing.

For now though, I'm going to talk about what I've watched so far, so seasons one and two, and the first couple of episodes of season three.

So...Clone Wars starts out pretty rough, I'm not gonna lie. The first few episodes are just a bit cringeworthy with annoying battle droid dialogue, the voice actors still finding their footing, and the animation is pretty spotty - I'll talk more about that in a moment - and of course the classic complaints of "Snips" and "Skyguy" and all that.

All of these problems started in the movie - which I most recently watched in 2023 but skipped this time because, well, it sucks unfortunately - but they are still apparent in the early episodes of season one.

The early episodes still have their moments.

The Malevolence arc is pretty competent, Rookies is probably the first legitimately good episode of the show, Cloak of Darkness and especially Lair of Grievous are good, and then from Trespass onwards the show really comes into its own.

That being said, I think season two is better than season one. Season three is another step forward, and from the timeskip onwards I think the show really hits its stride, especially because the updated designs look a lot better and fit with the animation bump.

That being said, already in season two I noticed the animation is getting better.

Season one has that classic CGI cartoon problem where the environments are rather drab, and they can't have too many characters on screen at once since it's expensive to do - and Clone Wars was an infamously expensive show - which led to a lot of battles consisting of...two Jedi and like three clone troopers against five battle droids with two super battle droids in the background. It's an understandable error, and they get much better about it as the show goes on, but it's pretty noticeable in season one.

That's a problem for a lot of CGI cartoons though. Watch Beware the Batman, Transformers Prime, or Jimmy Neutron and you'll notice a lot of these same traits.

Even some of the Barbie cartoons have those problems and it's really noticeable because it's like these blondes in bright pink colors against like a flat brown background. It's pretty trippy.

Alright, enough about the flaws of early 2010s CGI animation.

Here's a two-parter I didn't really pay all that much attention to the first two times I watched it - the first time back when it aired on Cartoon Network, the second time when I rewatched the whole series on Disney+ ahead of season seven - the Zillo Beast episodes.

Before I always just saw them as a pretty basic Godzilla homage - they awaken this giant monster on the Malastare battlefield, they eventually subdue it, but Palpatine wants to study it on Coruscant, it inevitably breaks out, and they have to stop it - but this time, it hit for me for whatever reason.

First there's the electro-proton bomb, and the nuke parallels there - they're obvious enough that I must've picked up on them before but I guess I didn't come to appreciate it - but then even when they wake the Zillo Beast, it never actually tries to leave the hole.

In fact, it doesn't until the Dugs force it out with the toxic gas.

Then the beast is clearly suffering when the shock tanks bring it down.

So, this giant, hurt animal gets sent to Coruscant in the laboratory, and Palpatine wants it killed so he can study its indestructible scales more quickly.

Only then does the Zillo Beast break out and go on its rampage, and even then, the rampage is focused directly on Palpatine.

Then they kill it with the gas bombs, and you can see it suffer as it dies, and the Jedi are so clearly disturbed by all this.

Palpatine, however, immediately tasks the scientist with cloning another one - and apparently that story is followed up on in Bad Batch season two which has unironically given me more motivation to actually watch the rest of Bad Batch than anything else I've heard about that show.

Anyway, the reason why I think this episode clicked with me this time is because this plan has Sidious written all over it, but he's forced to maneuver it as Palpatine.

He keeps trying to justify the Zillo Beast experiments but eventually his patience wears thin, and he just starts threatening the scientist to do his bidding, despite the fact he's supposed to be the kindly old Chancellor here.

Moreover, when the Zillo Beast is after him, it's probably the only time in the whole show that Sidious is in real danger, but he's with Anakin, Padme, and the droid so he can't do anything about it.

The whole show Palpatine is pulling the strings, controlling both the Republic and the Separatists, ensuring no side gets the upper hand.

Except for here, because the Zillo Beast wants to kill him, and he can't do anything about it.

He needs the Jedi and the Clones to kill the Zillo Beast for him, and once its dead, all he can do is task his scientists to clone a new one so he can try again.

It's such a cool thing to do with Palpatine/Sidious and there's a karmic justice to it all because it's entirely his fault too.

So yeah, I used to just dismiss these episodes as "oh I guess Filoni wanted to do a monster episode" but no, there's some substance here and it's pretty great.

It also goes to show that, even before the timeskip, Clone Wars was a really, really great Star Wars show. After the timeskip, it becomes the best as far as I'm concerned.

I'm excited for more Mandalore episodes, I'm excited for the Savage Opress arc - even if his name is even more on the nose than playing the Imperial March whenever Anakin does something evil - I'm excited for the Citadel, and Umbara, and the undercover Obi-Wan episodes.

I'm excited for Maul, for the Sabotage arc, for the Order 66 arc in season six, and I can't wait to finish strong on the Siege of Mandalore which is probably some of the best Star Wars content, period.

That's not even all of it. There's so much good stuff.

I love Clone Wars, it makes me happy.

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Birthday Wishes - Arthur Leclerc

<word count - 1657>

Tonight was going to be the third date you would have with Arthur, and you were beyond excited. You had immensely enjoyed the other two dates you had been on with him, and he truly was one of the sweetest guys you had ever had the pleasure of meeting. 

He had said he was going to meet you at the restaurant, so you got yourself ready so that you could be there a bit early. You didn't want to come across as too eager, but being early never hurt anyone. 

Thankfully, the restaurant was a short walk from your apartment, so you set off in the mild Monaco sunset. When you arrived and walked into the restaurant, you scanned the room, but there was no sign of Arthur anywhere.

You walked up to the front of house, ready to ask for the table since you assumed he wasn't there yet. "Hi, how can I help you?" the kind faced lady at the desk asked with a smile. 

"I've got a reservation for two, I'm pretty sure it should be under Leclerc?" you asked, remembering that Arthur had told you about the reservations. "I think someone is already here, follow me," she said, walking out through the restaurant and taking you to one of the tables near the back.

Then you spotted Arthur, sweetly smiling at you as you approached. His eyes were glued to you through your every move, not able to get over how stunning you looked. He scrambled to stand and greet you as the waitress walked away.

"Hey, wow, you look absolutely incredible," he complimented, pulling you in for a hug and kissing your cheeks.

"Thank you very much," you blushed, never getting used to him complimenting you. "How are you?" you asked as he pulled your chair out for you - just like a true gentleman. "I'm great thanks, you?" He countered, pushing your chair in before sitting back down on his own. "Yeah, good thanks," you nodded, picking up the menu.

Both of you ordered what you wanted, and you were glad to be able to talk to him. "What have you been up to today?" you asked, gazing at him from across the table. "All of my family came over, like my Mom and my brothers, so it was pretty hectic," he smiled, his dimples becoming more prominent.

"Any special occasion?" you asked, knowing that the whole of his family was often very busy within the world of motorsports. "It's actually my birthday today," He sheepishly said, emitting the detail that he'd rescheduled family dinner to come out with you.

"Arthur! You should've told me, we could've done something more special," you playfully scolded with feigned anger.

"Being with you is special enough for me," he quietly muttered, so quiet, in fact, that you barely heard it. You weren't even sure if you were meant to hear it, so you smiled warmly at him.

From across the table, Arthur took your hand and held it in his, your fingers slotting together like pieces of a puzzle. "Happy birthday, Arthur," you said as his thumb mindlessly ran up and down your skin. "Thank you, Y/N," he responded.

A few moments later, an idea popped into your head. "Excuse me for a second, I've got to use the bathroom," you said, standing and walking in the direction of the bathroom. When you were certain that Arthur couldn't see you, you slipped off to the front of house.

"Excuse me, it's my friend's birthday today, and I was wondering if we could do something for it?" you asked, approaching the desk, "I know I should have given notice, but I only just found out it's his birthday, sorry," you rushed, not wanting them to feel pressured.

"Of course we can, you're with the young man in the corner, yes?" she confirmed, and you were excited to see what they had up their sleeve.

"Yes, thank you so much!" you thanked, walking back the way you came to avoid suspicion from Arthur. "Ah you're back, I was starting to think you'd ran away from me," He joked, glad to have you back.

He had dated a fair few girls recently, but none of them could bring him the same sense of calm and contention like you could. It was like a strange feeling of familiarity, even if he hadn't known you long.

"I couldn't run from you, especially on your birthday," you lightly chuckled, taking his hand back in yours from across the table.

The two of you finished your main courses, and your plates were cleared away. You kept on looking over his shoulder to spot if they were coming, but you were trying to not make it look obvious.

Arthur just assumed you'd seen a famous person - you were in Monaco after all. "Look, I know tonight is far from over, but I was just wondering if-" He started, but was interrupted by you starting to sing happy birthday as one of the waitresses appeared in front of you with a cake.

There was a sparkler, spitting sparks of light up in little shoots of orange. Of course, there were the usual candles, their crimson flames dancing in the still air of the restaurant. A few people around you joined in as you sang, the cake being placed in front of Arthur.

His face was lit up, but you couldn't tell if it was the candles or the pure joy in his near Cheshire cat grin. He couldn't help but stare at you through the flames, wondering how he manged to be on a date with someone so thoughtful.

As the song came to a close, you told him, "Make a wish! But don't tell me, or else it won't come true,". Arthur didn't even have to think twice about what his wish was going to be, and he blew out the candles as people around cheered for him.

The other diners in the restaurant resumed the normal operations of the night, and the smile on his face was priceless. Every ounce of joy he had in his body was being put on full display for you to see. "I'll say it now, I don't know what kind of cake this is, so I'm sorry if you don't like it," you nervously chuckled, not having thought that through before.

"It could be my least favourite in the world and I am still going to eat it since you went through the effort to get it for me," he said, not really caring how cliche it sounded as the words left his mouth. "Would you like a slice?" He asked, picking the candles and sparklers out of the sponge.

"Yes please," you chirped, passing him your plate, "But birthday boy gets the first slice, I don't make the rules," you laughed, holding your arms up defensively.

"You're right, but, I think the birthday boy has the complete authority to overturn that rule when there is a beautiful lady in front of him who deserves the cake more," he said, plating up a slice for you and passing it over to you.

"Unfortunately, I can't argue with the birthday boy, so I will just have to deal with the burden of having the first slice," you laughed with feigned hurt, waiting for him to get his slice before starting yours. "And, luckily for you, chocolate just so happens to be my favourite," he said, swallowing his mouthful of pillowy chocolate sponge.

"I didn't get a choice, so I'm glad you like it," you told him. It was the thought that counted, but there was just a certain feeling that getting your favourite cake on your birthday provoked.

"Thank you for this, I really appreciate it," he said, unable to quash the tingling feeling that spread across his chest, and the butterflies that fluttered around in his stomach. He felt this way on your first date, but the intensity increased every time he saw you.

You collared the waiter over to pay the bill, fully prepared to pay for dinner as the present you weren't able to give him since you had only just found out that it was his birthday. "Oh, no, allow me," he dismissed the unspoken offer, gently pushing your hand away from the card reader.

"It's your birthday, the least I can do is get you dinner," you told him, going for the machine again. "And because it's my birthday, I want to treat you," he said, quickly tapping it on the reader with a beep.

"Next time, it's on me," you told him, with a stern yet playful tone to your voice. You had said that after your first date, and your second, but he clearly wasn't one for listening to your instruction.

You stayed for a short while after, discussing what you were getting up to the next day, and when you were both free. "After you," he said, opening the door for you as you walked out into the Monaco night.

"Thank you for dinner tonight, I've had a wonderful time," you smiled, standing beside him under the moonlight. "It's my pleasure, I've had a brilliant time too," he told you, watching as your eyes glinted in the luminance of the moon.

It was almost as if all of a sudden, h was bombarded with these overwhelming feelings of love and wonder. He just wanted you.

"Can- Can I?" He asked, leaning in so close that you could feel his breath on your face. His heart was pounding out of his chest so hard you could practically hear it. "Yeah," you nodded, closing the small gap between you.

Your lips came together, and you could still taste the the decadent chocolate on his tongue. Reluctantly, he pulled himself away and gazed into your eyes. "My wish came true," he grinned, hoping his other wishes with you would come true.

A/N - I was writing Charles' birthday thing last night, but then I quickly realised that it was Arthur's birthday today, so I quickly whipped this up. Sorry if it not great... Requests are open as always! Love you 💖

|masterlist|

[inthedoghousern]

just this once

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!driver!reader

summary: you and oscar are what people would describe as rivals. but a night in monaco, a club, an elevator, and confessions can change everything.

contains: 18+, suggestive content, swearing probably idk, drinking + alcohol, events leading up to sex (?) but nothing too graphic, kinda fluff and angst

5.5k words

a/n: this is too long and there's very little characterization but enjoy i suppose... part II: okay part III: 11:45

You were smiling as you chatted with a guy at the party. The music was blasting around you and the lights were colorful. You were in Monaco, celebrating your first Grand Prix here. Despite being a rookie, you had placed second in the race, an impressive and historic performance, especially since you were the first woman to do it. 

It felt like the whole weekend had been revolving around you. At the track, there was a sea of fans, journalists, and even employees from other teams coming up to congratulate and talk to you. Now here at the club, it was the same, with stranger after stranger wanting a slice of your attention. 

"So how long are you in Monaco?" He asked leaning against the high-top table, with a sly smile on his lips. “We should see each other again.” Before you could answer, you heard a voice behind you. 

"She's cant, we've got more racing to do. It's the job." You rolled your eyes, the familiar voice belonged to no other than Oscar Piastri. 

You and Oscar’s friendship, if you could even call it that, was complicated. What started as kinship during karting years turned into resentment as you made your way up the motorsport ranks together. F4 British Championship, the Renault Eurocup, F3, F2, the two of you were always close competitors, but Oscar always had an edge. You’d be runner-up to his championships, watched as he got a seat in Formula One while all you could do was keep racing in lower divisions and hope you could prove to any team that you would be a valuable driver. 

But now you’ve made it, it’s your rookie season and you’ve finally started to beat Oscar, and it helps when you’re in a Red Bull. Podium after podium after podium, you’ve already blown Oscar’s impressive rookie stats out of the water. As a result, the rivalry between you has only grown bigger. 

“Oh Oscar you actually weren’t involved in this conversation,” you say giving him a fake sweet smile. He claims he can’t stand you, but here he is going out of his way to make your night difficult. Typical. 

You turn back to the guy in front of you. His name was Alex… William…? You honestly didn’t remember and had no interest in finding out, but it was amusing to see him throw himself at you. Amusing that Oscar came over and has to witness it. "I'm actually here for a few more days," you tell him. You pull your phone out of your bag and slide it towards the unnamed guy. “Put your number in. We can set something up later.” The guy smiles, and you fight back a laugh as Oscar still stands at the table with you two. You had no intention of ever texting or speaking to this man again. 

-

The night goes by in a blur. You’ve lost the guy you were talking to earlier and make your way to the bar to order another drink. Your life feels like some sick joke when Oscar slides up next to you and orders himself another round too. “That guy looked like a prick,” he says. 

You chuckle and nod your head in agreement. “Yeah, he did look like a prick."

The media and fans had characterized Oscar as this nice, young, shy guy. But the Oscar you knew was deathly competitive with a bit of a mean streak. 

“Why do you care though?” I ask turning to him, cocking my head to the side. “Care what guys I talk to at parties? I mean, if that dude was Zak Brown, sure, I’d see why you’d stop me from stealing your seat, but….” I taunt. 

"Alright watch it," he said while shaking his head. You roll your eyes, you know that he can’t do anything in retaliation to your teasing. You were the star now, you were his rival [who’s winning] and you were untouchable.

You finish your drink and turn to the dance floor, “see ya Oscar,” you say flashing him a smile. You can feel his eyes burning your back as you walk away.  

-

This club felt like a time warp. As you danced and talked and drank, you saw gridmates and girlfriends walk past, at one point Lando was up at the DJ booth. Your head is fuzzy and you don’t know what time it is. You push through sweaty bodies to the tables surrounding the room, shuffling around to find your things. Finally, you’re able to find your bag, and luckily your phone is still inside, so you make your way out of the club. You need some quiet and fresh air as you sort out transportation back to the hotel. You were throwing in the towel for the night. 

Outside the music was still spilling from the doors, filling your ears with the sounds from the club. You checked your phone, trying to get it to work. Your vision was slightly blurred from all the alcohol, you were probably drunk.

“Hey,” you hear, it’s him, again. Your heart skipped a beat when you heard Oscar's voice coming from behind you. You couldn't help but feel some nerves running through your body. You had just spent the night ignoring him and now he was here. You didn't turn around to look at him, you weren't sure what would happen if you did.

With your phone finally unlocked, you call an Uber. With that task finished, you turn, feeling wobbly, and when you look at Oscar he looks just as drunk as you. “Hey.”

“I’m leaving,” you tell him. 

"I'll leave with you," Oscar responds immediately, sounding annoyed. "Why do you have to leave so soon?" He asked. 

“Leave so soon? We've been here for hours,” you reply. You don’t address his first statement, but your mind is circling the fact he just decided he was coming with you. He didn’t even ask if he could, if you wanted him to, he just announced it. 

"Doesn't mean it's time to go," Oscar said as he stepped closer. He put his hands on your shoulders, his breath smelling like alcohol. "Why don't we go back inside?" He asked. What was he thinking? You didn't pull away, it was the alcohol. You couldn't stop your mind from being hazy, you couldn't help the sensations of his hand on your shoulder. You put your hands on his biceps in response and look at him in the eyes. “No Oscar, I’m leaving.” 

For a moment, everything felt as if it was going in slow motion. Oscar stood there, his hands on your shoulders, as you looked directly at the most beautiful most infuriating guy you had ever known. You spoke firmly, but it was clear that you were struggling. Oscar was drunk and stubborn as always, he wasn't letting this go easily.

“Hmmm?” I muse. My brain is so fuzzy I almost don’t notice his grip on my shoulders tightening. “I’m leaving Oscar. You can share my Uber back to the hotel, go back inside, or do something else. But I’m going.” Oscar said nothing. He was breathing heavily against you, his grip tightening even more. For some reason, his grip felt good.

"I'll go with you," he said, finally, his voice was low. “Alright,” you respond. You stand, he's still holding your shoulders, your hands still on his biceps. You don't know how long passes, but the Uber pulls up to the curb and you both let go of each other. You climb into the back seat and Oscar sits next to you, his body barely a foot away from yours.

The journey to the hotel is mostly silent, but you catch Oscar stealing glances at you.

“Looks like you partied a little hard for P9, no?” You tease. "Shut up," Oscar grumbled, you were pushing him right to his limits. You knew that he was angry, but you couldn't help but poke fun at him. You felt good when you could get one over on him for once. For the rest of the ride to the hotel, Oscar is silent. Every time you look at him, he quickly looks away. It was a side of him that you had rarely seen, the way he looked so unsure and uncomfortable.

-

You both step out of the Uber and walk into the hotel. It's late at night and the lobby is almost empty. Oscar follows you into the elevator, you can feel the heat from his body radiating against you. The elevator doors close and you are in your own little world. He presses the button to his floor: 6, and you press the button to yours: 9. You both stand side by side as the elevator slowly moves up. 

The elevator rises, and just like the car journey, Oscar is quiet. A quiet that feels so much more intimate in this small space with the two of you pressed up against each other. Neither of you speaks, you are lost in the moment. It's almost as if the elevator is going too slow, or too fast? You don't want this moment to end.

The bright lights of the elevator and the presence of Oscar sober you up a little bit, just a little bit. You’re hyperaware of the floor numbers changing, getting closer to floor 6, where you and Oscar will have to separate. Oscar's body felt warm against you. You wanted to grab him and hold him close to you, but it would be wrong. You knew that he would most likely pull away from you. 

This has to be goodbye.

“Why didn’t you want me to leave the party?” you ask. Oscar didn't expect that question. You could see it in the way his eyes widened before they narrowed back to the previous stoic state. "I didn't want you to leave because..." He said before pausing. He took a deep breath before continuing. "I wanted you to stay, with me." He said, his voice quiet. You don’t respond. What Oscar says makes your heart jump into your throat. You weren’t supposed to be having these conversations, you certainly weren’t supposed to be having them with Oscar, someone who you can’t stand. Someone who can’t stand you. It’s the alcohol you tell yourself. 

Ding.

You’re on floor 6. 

The elevator doors open, and Oscar doesn't move, instead, he looks at you.

You look back, your mind is racing a mile a minute. He is just staring at you, waiting for you to speak. You felt the heat of his body, the smell of his breath, and the beat of his heart. The air felt so heavy between you both. “You’re supposed to hate me,” you say quietly. Seconds are passing and Oscar is still in the elevator with you. If he doesn’t get out soon the doors are going to shut and you’re both going to keep going up to your floor. Oscar still wasn't getting off, he seemed lost in a trance. It felt like the world had stopped as you looked at him. He didn't respond to your words, his breath was so close to your face.

“Do you hate me?” you say just above a whisper. You are staring at each other now. The elevator doors close and continue up to your floor, and Oscar’s still in here with you. 

"I used to hate you," Oscar said, his voice was soft, and you could hear no anger in his tone. "But..." he paused, and the elevator continued to rise. The both of you were standing inches apart. "But not anymore." He finished. 

You wanted to grab him. Hold his face. Kiss him. Let him do whatever he wanted. No stop. This has to be the alcohol. It has to be. What would everyone say if they found out you were thinking these things about one of your gridmates? Your competition. Your rival. 

What would happen if you just went for it? Just one kiss. You know you’d both regret it, but just one kiss couldn't hurt...could it?

Ding. The doors open. You quickly step back from Oscar, regaining your senses. You exit the elevator and don’t care to check if he’s following you. You hope he’s not. 

You walk to your room, still not looking back at the elevator. You get to the door and fumble for the hotel keycard in your purse. You can feel the heat rising on the back of your neck as you think about what just happened between you and Oscar. Your hands were slightly shaking, your heart was beating wildly and you felt lightheaded. You finally get the door open and quickly shut it behind you. You stand in the entryway for a beat before throwing your purse down, taking your shoes off, and lying down on the bed staring at the ceiling.

Was he going to say anything to you in the morning? Would he act like it never happened? What if we both act like this never happened? Was he going to knock on your door?

You lay there in bed, your mind racing. The alcohol was slowly fading away from your system, but the memories were still clear in your mind. You were still feeling the heat of his body against yours and the smell of his cologne. You were so conflicted, you should be upset and mad. You shouldn't be enjoying the thought of him coming to your door and saying more. That was Oscar, you hated Oscar, you weren't supposed to want him.

You sit up. You need to go to sleep and just clear your head of this. You wash your face and change, all the while thoughts of Oscar run through your mind. You look at yourself in the mirror, is that what Oscar saw when he looked at you?

You crawl into bed, you are still on a high after the party and the adrenaline from Oscar. You close your eyes, trying to distract yourself. But as soon as you closed your eyes, you could only picture him. You could picture his lips when he spoke, his jawline. You could picture the look in his eyes when he looked at you. Your mind was so focused on his body, what it would feel like, what it would taste like to kiss him. Fuck.

-

Your heart stops when you hear a knock at your door. You don't know what time it is or how long you've been lying in bed fighting sleep. 

The knock came again; louder this time. You get out of bed, your heart beating quicker with every step you take. Was it even Oscar out there? You reached the hotel door. Your breath was shaky, it felt like your entire body was trembling. This was it. Now you were truly in this. You put your hand on the handle, the knocking continued again, more persistent this time.

As you threw the door open, you came face to face with Oscar. He was standing there, in the same outfit as he had been at the party. He was staring directly at you, his breath was warm as he exhaled. You could swear he didn't even blink at this moment, his eyes were just glued to yours.

“Yes?” I ask. "Can I come in?" Oscar says, sounding a little bit nervous, and more sober than earlier. You’re at a loss for words. A few hours (?) ago the only words you exchanged were about hating each other [or rather, not hating each other], and now he was asking to come into your room.

Oscar was still holding his gaze, eyes locked straight on yours. You could see it on his face, there was something he wanted from you, something that he hadn't been able to communicate until now. "Please?" Oscar said, his voice was low. You had never in the 8 years you had known Oscar seen him like this. 

“Okay.” You move to the side, motioning him inside your hotel room. Oscar walks in and for a moment, neither of you spoke. There was a certain level of nervousness in the way he was moving. He didn't make any attempt to get close to you initially, it was like he was waiting for your permission. “What do you want Oscar?” I ask folding my arms across my chest. “Please tell me what you’re thinking, I can’t do this guessing game thing anymore.”

Oscar didn't respond right away, he was trying to decide what he should say. You could see as he processed through every thought, looking at you as if he was holding something back. After a few seconds, the words came spewing out, he didn't want to waste any more time.

"I want you to kiss me. I want to kiss you. I want you. That’s what I want." Oscar finally admitted.

Your arms fall to your sides and your heart skips a beat. Oh my god. Oscar stands in front of you and your body is heating up, your brain is getting fuzzy, this time it isn’t the alcohol. “Oscar I-“ you don’t know what to say. 

It was like time had stopped for the both of you. Your breaths were shaky, the silence was deafening. You wanted to wrap yourself around him. It was all just adrenaline now, just one kiss, that's what you wanted. 

You stand looking at each other. You don’t know how long passes. You want him too. You really want him. You need him. But the rational part of your brain is screaming for you to stop. You can’t be with him, as a female F1 driver what would the world say if you got with another driver? What would your reputation be? They would call you a slut. But as Oscar stands in front of you, those thoughts, those warnings are fading away…

He takes a step closer. You don’t move away. He’s close now, too close, but you don’t care. You could feel the heat radiating from his body to yours. There were just inches between you two now. You didn't care about anything else, everything in your body was telling you yes. It was either now or never, your reputation would be the last thing on your mind in this moment.

He brings one of his hands to the side of your face and leans to kiss you. But your lips don’t meet and he hovers just above. Waiting. He wanted something from you, some signal that it was okay to go for it. You could taste his breath as he hovered above you, how many times had you wanted to taste him? You hadn't realized until now how strong this pull between the both of you was. Even if it was just alcohol, it didn't matter, your heart felt as if it would explode with this excitement.

“Oscar” you whisper. You’re looking at his lips, then his eyelashes, his eyes. 

“Just this once.”

The words left your mouth in a hoarse whisper like it felt too surreal to speak out loud. One kiss wouldn't hurt, you could tell him that was the only kiss you were going to let him have. He let out a small breath, and then the gap between your lips disappeared. He brought his face down, his lips touching yours. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close as your lips met his. As Oscar's hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, it was just you and him. Nothing else mattered. Just the heat, the desire and the love that had been building deep inside of both of you.

He breaks the kiss and kisses your collarbone, then up your neck, and then he’s right next to your ear. “Yeah, just this once” he whispers. You let out a shaky breath, his voice sent shivers down your spine. What was happening? Every minute seemed to take so long in the moment. The way Oscar's voice whispered in your ear, it felt like a sweet melody. If this was wrong, you would never know. The only thing you knew for sure right now was how much Oscar wanted you, how much you wanted him.

His mouth was warm, you could feel the moisture of his lips press against yours. You grab the hem of his shirt and he puts his arms up as you pull it off of him. When you drop the shirt aside you can’t help but stare at his body. His chest, his abs, his arms. You had seen him shirtless before, it was inevitable with the years of training you two had done together. But seeing him tonight like this, just the two of you, it was different. 

As you stared at him, he was just staring back, his hair was messy from the way you had pulled his shirt off. It felt like this was the only moment in the world.

His kisses were gentle like he was still trying to get a feel for the moment. You were in each other's grip as if you were locked together. The heat was building up, and you could feel your body burning up. Oscar's hand moved to your top now, pulling it over your head slowly, letting you feel every sensation as it fell to the floor. The way he looked at you as it fell to the ground...it was as if his eyes were going to burn a hole into you.

You’re usually quick with comebacks. Confident. But as you stand in front of him, you’re not insecure, but you have nothing to say. No words to taunt him with, it felt like your usual self was far removed from what was happening right now. 

You had never stood in front of Oscar so vulnerable before, his hands running up your body, his mouth kissing your neck. He was treating you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, the way he looked at you it was like he was seeing you for the first time. Oscar lies you down on the hotel bed. Hovering over you, one of his hands on your hip, the other pressed beside your head, holding him up. One of your hands is resting on your stomach, and you reach the other up and run it through his hair. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I’m sorry for being so horrible to you. I’ve acted…” you trail off. Why are you saying this? Why right now? It was the alcohol, it had to be. 

As he leaned over you, his breath was warm on your skin as he listened to everything you were saying. Your heart was beating so rapidly, you couldn't stop the words coming out of your mouth, but for once, you felt vulnerable in the right way.

"Don't-" Oscar said, pulling away from you slightly. "You don't need to apologize. We’ve both been… I don’t know…Everything has just been building for years, it got out of control, us. Whatever us was- is. I think I’ve always wanted ‘us’ to be this though."

His words make your head spin. "Us". "Out of control". "Always".

Always makes you laugh though, as you think back to when you first met Oscar.

“You wanted this during our Arden days? At 14?” You know shouldn’t joke right now, but everything is happening so fast, and you grasp for some sort of control over what you're feeling. 

He smiled back at you, he couldn't help smiling. One thing about the way you and Oscar's relationship worked, was it was always full of constant bantering and jabs at each other. It felt right to joke now. 

"I didn't say that," Oscar said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "But sure, you were attractive back then, even if you were a brat. Yeah, I did look at you during those days." 

A grin spreads across your face. What would 14-year-old you say if she knew you had Oscar Piastri on top of you in a hotel room after you podium in Monaco? She would be horrified. The realization was almost enough to pull you out of the moment. It truly was insane. The way Oscar was looking down at you, touching your body, it definitely did feel surreal, as if this was a dream.

"You remember those days?" Oscar asked, his voice soft and low as he shifted down to rest on his elbow, bringing his face down closer to yours. “Of course.” You say, looking at his face. He’s so beautiful. “You wouldn’t let me win a goddamn race.”

He let out a laugh, he couldn't help it, the humor of the situation had gotten to him.

"Damn right I didn't... are you still bitter about it?" He said mockingly, he was back to his usual self. “Nope,” you say with a smile, “because who just got second in Monaco? My first time driving that track in Formula One by the way.” Even in this uniquely intimate moment between the two of you, you are bickering. But it’s perfect. 

"Yeah yeah..." Oscar rolled his eyes. "You got lucky that's for sure, this race was a mess." He was back to being himself, the cocky, arrogant version that you were always arguing with. But you felt a different type of chemistry with him right now compared to the racetrack, this time it felt deeper than your usual bickering. You laugh and your hands are on his face again. Now that you have him like this, above you, relaxed, yours; you never want it to end. 

You smile and start tracing the freckles and moles on his face with your finger. Just this once. That was the deal. You want to savor every minute of this moment. A moment that after tonight, can never happen again. 

Oscar's eyes drifted down and he watched as you traced his face. It felt a little too perfect, the way you traced around everything...the way his breath felt on your skin...the way he was looking down at you with intent, his attention was just on you.

"I like this," Oscar finally said and his voice was hushed.

So do I. Is what you want to say. But if those words come out of your mouth everything becomes too real, and you’re not sure if you could ever stop what was already snowballing between the two of you. You simply hum in acknowledgment and continue to trace his freckles down to his arms, down to his wrists. You even traced your fingers along the top of his fingers. 

It was like nothing else existed at this moment, it was just the two of you, your bodies, and the heat. The heat was all that mattered. You wanted to see all of him. Commit. Go all the way. But even now you were mesmerized: his bare chest, back, stomach. You want to run your fingers through him. 

Oscar could feel your breath trailing on his neck, the feeling of your fingers trailing down his body, along his chest, and down his stomach. He felt as if any more of him was exposed to your touch, he would fall apart. He was like a hot glass ready to shatter, a moment away from cracking. He was at a loss, he couldn't even think of the next thing to say. All he knew was that he needed more.

Oscar looked at you, his eyes seemed to be filled with pure desire. He was leaning closer to you now, he was only inches away, his breath was touching your lips. His hand brushed past the clip of your bra, teasing every little part of you. Your back, your arms...he was taking his time with this. “It’s okay, you can…” you trail off. Yet again, you’re too embarrassed to say it. You can take the bra off. You hope he gets the hint. 

The smile on his face was almost cruel as he looked down at you. Was he really going to take this all so slowly and deliberately? He paused for a moment and then he slowly undid one of the clips. He did it so slowly and so precise, he was taking this at such a methodical pace, he wanted you to feel every. single. moment. A part of you wants to complain. How slow he was being. Both of your lives were filled with speed, in the cars, outside the cars. But most of you doesn't really care that he's taking his time. Tonight was the only night you’re allowing yourself to be with Oscar like this, might as well drag it out. 

He did the same thing with the next clip, and then slowly pulled down one of the straps. You did wonder how long he was going to take, it felt like your bra was not supposed to be an obstacle, but Oscar was making it one, on purpose. He had turned even such a simple task into something that felt so intimate.

The moment your bra finally came off a whole new feeling of powerlessness washed over you. You felt even more exposed than before. Your skin felt more sensitive, and everything felt more real. Each movement from him felt like it had double its usual meaning. Your breath caught as he pulled your body closer to him. The pressure of his body against yours was making your head spin. You felt so close to him, the warmth between the two of you was palpable. With each of his kisses, you could feel yourself growing even more desperate for him.

You could feel his finger tracing the outline of your shorts, slowly moving towards the waistband, finger hooking around the elastic. It was happening gradually, so it hit harder when he finally pulled down your shorts. Your underwear was the last barrier, and if it came off, this would officially be something that could never happen again. You were lying under just a layer of clothing. He was staring down at you with his intent gaze. You could feel every move of his, every muscle shifting, his breath hot on your body.

“You too, yeah?” You say with a nervous, breathy laugh. Your hands travel to his pants. And he sits up and leans back a bit, you sit up as well, and start unbuttoning them. It was almost comical, how slow you were both going in this moment. But it was also incredibly intimate. The two of you were both teasing each other in a game of cat and mouse. He was taking it in steps, he wanted to tease, to play, to show you how much he wanted you.

Your hands began unbuttoning his pants, inch by inch, you were both working in unison in the slow teasing. When you finish and start to pull the zipper down, Oscar quickly stands up to take the pants completely off. He wastes no time in getting back on top of you. You smile and hold back a laugh. 

His hands are on either side of your head and he’s looking down at you again, you two start laughing. If it was like this one night, how would it have been with you two together all the time? Would you have always been like this? A playful, teasing relationship, where you both were always just messing around, playing jokes on each other.

The two of you are so close, his boxers and your underwear are the only barrier between you now. You are one step away from the edge, one step away from doing something you can never take back. But you also wanted to take that step. It felt so close to happening. It was like your bodies were talking to one another, they craved to touch, to be pressed against each other. Each breath, each movement it felt as though you wanted to become one with each other.

The way the two of you were looking into each other's eyes, you could tell it was just a moment away. Oscar leaned in close to you, close enough to breathe on your neck, “Are you sure?” He asks. You nod and don’t say anything.

He chuckles as you nod. "You're so sure?" You smile and roll your eyes. He’s such an asshole. “Yes, I’m so sure.” Even with your response dripping in sarcasm, it’s set your feelings in stone. You want Oscar Piastri. 

Was it the alcohol in your system, was it the buildup of years of tension between the two of you, a mixture of both? It didn't matter, the only thing that mattered now was this very moment, this very moment with you and Oscar on this hotel bed. It was like the rest of the world would cease to exist, all that was important at this moment was the heat between the two of you, it filled you with such a warm, almost calming feeling. You both knew that this was it, there was no going back. But just this once you could let it happen. 

-

part II- okay part III- 11:45